#hopefully on my next re-read i’ll be a more careful study and figure out how to write that series in a way that pleases me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phykios · 3 years

Text

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12).

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog.

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation.

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.”

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut.

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass.

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other.

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets.

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…”

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks.

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.”

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up.

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…”

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements.

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.”

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.”

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?”

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun.

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.”

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response.

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?”

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.”

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper.

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise.

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release.

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all.

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene.

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says.

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…”

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea.

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?”

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--”

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much.

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.”

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit.

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses.

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles.

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door.

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen.

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom.

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street.

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing.

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things.

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.”

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else?

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says.

“Who are you working with?”

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question.

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?”

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand.

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks.

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile.

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice.

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…”

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared.

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear.

Annabeth, behind him, coughs.

“S-sure. No problem.”

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him.

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend?

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice.

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far.

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?”

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps.

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly.

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…”

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?”

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock.

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before.

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his.

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could.

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.”

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan.

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today.

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor.

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit.

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision.

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…”

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.”

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him.

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together.

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together.

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all.

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time.

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him?

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode.

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust.

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner.

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks.

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops.

He squints at one of his doodles.

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar.

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books.

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response.

Percy approaches the table.

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra.

Percy picks up the book, squinting.

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself.

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares.

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look.

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?”

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness.

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch!

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?”

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance.

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes.

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?”

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes.

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask?

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.”

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says.

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.”

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.”

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head.

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21.

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music?

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth.

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly.

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill.

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it.

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…”

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake.

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window.

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos.

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.”

Jamie looks up.

There’s a four year old staring at her.

“Hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks.

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her.

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.”

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers.

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.”

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit.

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him.

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin.

She really should have just stuck with German instead.

#my fic #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #percy should be a classics major and here's why #the percy major for the stem hating author #also i feel like i have to say:#1) classics conferences are not like that #2) if only it were that easy to get the bm to return looted antiquities 🙄#pjo fic #percabeth fic #percy jackson

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oikawa-tuwu · 4 years

Text

Study (gn!Reader x Akaashi)

Rated G, 1.4k words

Not Home for the Holidays Masterlist

“I can’t find my leather briefcase.”

You were dusting in the study when he approached you, one of your new guests, with the polite manner and glasses.

“Excuse me,” he said, softly. “Is there someplace where I can work? Just a desk and some quiet would be perfect.”

“Actually,” you say, and set down the feather duster you were using. “Right here you can.”

It had been a difficult decision to keep the study, a little room with dark wood and packed full of bookshelves. After all, keeping it meant there would be one less bedroom, and that meant less income for the business. But, in the end, you kept it as it is, citing that it would be a good escape for doing the more monotonous business aspects of your job, or for instances like this.

There’s a desk in the corner, tucked between two bookshelves, and you gesture to it. Your guest sighs, and thanks you, and hauls his luggage over to it, so you take that as your cue to leave and continue dusting in another room.

A few minutes later, dusting done, you pass by the study once more. However, you hesitate by the open doorway. There’s a sound coming from the room, like the sound of someone mumbling and muttering to himself. It’s hushed, frantic, so you decide to check on your guest to make sure he hasn’t worked himself into an early grave. You’ve seen too many young professionals check in for some peace and quiet and an escape from their work life, only to be knee-deep in papers and emails a few hours later. Best to check on him now, you figure, rather than finding a limp body to drag to dinner in a few hours, so you lean against the doorframe and take in the scene: your guest, holding his head in his hands, muttering something to himself over and over again, his luggage, open to the world, clearly rummaged through, pens and highlighters and laptop accessories scattered about.

“Everything alright in here?”

He jumps at the sound of your voice. He turns to face you, and, having taken off his glasses at some point during his obvious breakdown, you can see the bags under his eyes and his frantic expression unhindered.

“I can’t find my leather briefcase,” he says.

“And this briefcase is important?”

“I’m an editor and everything I was supposed to edit while on this vacation was in that briefcase. So yeah. Important.”

Anxiety, apparently, is contagious, because now you’re also worried for this man, that familiar unease settling in your gut. “Where was the last place you saw it?”

Your guest fiddles his fingers, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. It’s strange seeing this juxtaposition, seeing him go from a man that looked so well put together before with his neat sweater, polite words, well-styled hair, to him now. His hair, sticking a little strangely to one side, probably from running a hand through it, the top button on his collared shirt under his sweater undone.

“I was carrying it in my luggage, but I took it out on the train to start on some paperwork… I might have left it on the train or I might have left it at the coffeeshop I went to after the train or in the taxi I took to get here from the coffeeshop-”

“Let’s go, then.”

The man blinks, pausing for a brief second, before saying, quite flatly, “What?”

“I have a car,” you say. “If these papers are so important, let’s go track them down. Or I have a fax machine-”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I’m supposed to be the one keeping Tenma on track, and if I have to ask him to re-fax everything, he’ll hold that over me for weeks.”

“Then let’s go.”

Your guest blinks again, but this time, you can see a decision being made somewhere in that brain of his.

“Let’s go,” he repeats, sliding his glasses back on his face. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up in your car, driving down the road in silence, with Akaashi Keiji in your passenger seat.

He introduced himself, somewhere in between finding your keys and scraping a layer of snow off your windshield, so at least now you know his name. Unfortunately, his name is the only thing you know about him.

Hopefully he doesn’t try to murder you.

You glance over at Akaashi again. He’s looking out of the window, not at you, only the tight frown on his lips and impatient finger-fidgeting giving away how worried he really is.

Feeling your gaze, Akaashi glances over at you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you’re about to murder me.”

Akaashi’s lips quirk into a little smile. “If I did, I wouldn’t have a ride back to the inn. Consider yourself safe.”

“That’s a relief,” you say, half as a joke, half not. “So, you said you’re an editor? What do you edit? Anything I might have heard of?”

“Maybe. Zombie Night Zom’bish?”

The name rings a bell, but no plot or characters come to mind, so it's safe to assume that's probably one manga you decided to pass on.

“Sounds familiar, I haven’t read it though.”

“That’s probably for the better,” Akaashi mutters, and for some reason that makes you snort. “Tenma is a good mangaka, don’t get me wrong, it’s just…”

“Not exactly highbrow?”

Akaashi nods, albeit a little hesitantly. “Let’s just say I’m glad that it’s ending soon.”

And just like Zombie Night Zom’bish, it looks like your trip might be ending soon, because just a second later you pull into the parking lot of the taxi service, putting the car in park outside the entrance. Akaashi, in his usual polite nature, thanks you, before sliding out of his seat and heading towards the entrance to check if they happened to have his briefcase.

Apparently it’s not there, because Akaashi gets back into the car empty-handed and frowning.

The coffee shop is next, a slightly longer trip, so you debate where to turn on some music to help with any awkward silences. Thankfully, your worries are unfounded, because you aren’t short on conversation. While you wouldn’t describe Akaashi Keiji as talkative, necessarily, he doesn’t seem to be not not talkative, either. He answers your questions politely, maybe in less words than you might have, but he also asks a few of his own, too, and as you approach your destination, it feels less like a weird Uber situation and more like two friends sharing a ride together.

“So after the zombies is volleyball? Why volleyball? I feel like that’s a bit of a tone shift.”

Next to you, Akaashi smiles, and you start to think that maybe his smile should be labelled as a driving hazard, because you’d much rather be staring at it than the road in front of you. “Tenma and I both played in high school,” he says, unaware of your plight. “So we both have our reasons for caring about the sport.”

“Were you any good?”

Akaashi makes a noise that can’t exactly be categorized as words so much as a fluctuating tone. A sound, in your personal experience, that is made when someone wants to say yes, but doesn’t want to sound cocky about it. “My team was good at least. We made it nationals somewhat consistently. My best friend actually ended up going professional and is on the national team now.”

“Damn, I didn’t know I had a celebrity in my car.”

Akaashi laughs. It sounds different than his earlier laughs. A little less contained, a little more surprised. A little less… polite.

A hint that there’s something more there, something underneath that layer of professional courtesy and courteous greetings.

What else, you wonder, is lurking just below that surface.

The coffee shop doesn’t have the papers either, and your last destination takes a disappointingly short time to get to, just down the street. Akaashi returns from the train station with empty hands as well, as slides into the passenger seat with a disappointed sigh, muttering something about blackmail and faxes.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your briefcase,” you say, as you turn the car engine over to head back home. “We made a trip out for nothing.”

Akaashi makes a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a hum. He starts to say something, but hesitates. A second later, he tries again, a cautious, “I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”

You look over at him, and you see he’s already looking at you, a little smile on the corner of his lips. Not his polite smile. Something truer, more comfortable.

“After all,” he continues. “I got to talk with you.”

Hi hi hi sorry this is two days late. Fun headache/earache things making it hard to get writing done, blah blah blah. Thanks for reading, I’ll see you on Christmas day for Oikawa’s!

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #akaashi keiji #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of Being Ladybug 9

Previous Master List

The cons of not believing

(- - )

Tim looked at his phone in surprise. He’d been in Paris for only a week to help train the Miracles, and already Bruce was calling him? Was hell freezing over? Did someone die?!

“B?” Tim whispers, not wanting to wake up Stephanie. There is silence on the other line. Tim frowns and moves to the other room so he can turn on the video.

“Bruce?” he asks again, now looking at the brooding older man. He looked like Joker just shat in his coffee.

“Tim… I… when you were younger… how… what could I have done to support you more?” Bruce finally bit out. His pauses long and his eyes drawn together. Bruce was looking to the side and was speaking quietly. Tim recognized the room as Steph’s before she moved into his room. A new sibling? AH! Bruce had been petitioning to have the previous Ladybug brought under his custody. He’d been blocked and turned away every time. It seemed Diana was extremely excited to be teaching a new Ladybug, had in fact claimed her as her sister. Bruce had been told that he had enough children and that he didn’t need to “corrupt” another one.

“Is the new sister having a hard time adjusting? Shouldn’t you be asking Dick?” Tim asked, relieved no one died…again.

“… Marinette is fourteen and about to graduate high school this Christmas. She was tossed to the side by her family for some unknown reason. She was torn from her friends and responsibilities. Since receiving the Miraculous at thirteen, she has hardly had a minute to breath, let alone figure herself out. And when, by all rights, she should have had the time, Diana takes her, shaves all her hair off and tells her “[W]ith every hair that falls, a part of Marinette must die. As your new hair grows, Maria will grow as well.” She wasn’t allowed to sew or draw or bake or cook. She wasn’t allowed to do anything that had any connection to her previous life,” Bruce’s hands and jaw were clenched.

Tim frowned again. What?!

“Marinette trained from dawn to dusk, but was never allowed out of the house, nor to shadow her on missions. She was to study, to train, and to sit quietly and behave herself.”

“You’re kidding?! No wonder her friends here are so worried! They’ve been trying to contact her!” Tim growled. He felt ready to go hunt an Amazonian.

“What would you suggest I do? She thinks further ahead than anyone I know, has strategies and back-up strategies and back-ups for the back-ups. She has social anxiety, with a history of being bullied. She skipped grades and then stopped for some reason. She had the same teacher for years, despite having been bullied by classmates. I just… I need to hear from someone who is closer to her age and had similar problems. What can I do?” Bruce wiped his hand down his face. He looked so tired.

Tim sighed and thought back to when he was fourteen. He’d been Robin for three years by then already. What could he have used? More time together? More friends? More sleep? Did any of this help his new sister?

Tim shook his head, “I don’t know, B. I was more interested in being Robin than being a teenager. Time with you was always good. Sibling time with as well. Maybe call Dick. He’s always been the best adjusted out of all of us.”

Bruce just nodded, gave his half smile and was about to sign off when a light went off over his head.

“Tim, one last thing. Please look into the school and classmates for me. Something tells me Marinette was being held back against her will.”

Tim frowned more. He nodded before signing off and sending a message to the Miracle Team that Marinette would be able to speak in the next week and would video chat with them soon. He was about to text Jason when Stephanie called for him. He put his phone down and walked back to bed.

( # , # )

Richard Grayson was used to getting calls at weird times. But two in the morning and from Bruce’s civilian phone? He sent a quick prayer up that no one died and answered.

“What’s up, B? Miss me already?” He asked cheerfully.

Bruce looked tiredly at the camera, “Dick. I need some advice to help your newest sister adjust.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Bruce finally got custody! That’s good. But he looked so exhausted. He wondered what happened.

“Adjust to what, specifically? The fighting? School? Is she moody? What’s going on?” Dick asked. When did he become the one to give PARENTING advice to his father?

As Bruce talked about what he’d learned from Marinette’s journal, Dick became more and more angry. He was a guy, but even her knew that you never cut a girl’s hair without permission!

“Sounds to me like she just needs to believe that this is real and permanent. Just be there when you can. Talk to her about decisions and let her work the way she is used to on missions. Thing’s will fall into place after that” Dick said pragmatically. There really wasn’t much to do but be there. He wished he could be there to help in person, but India had recently fallen prey to the mouse Miraculous. He and Starfire were there to capture the thief that was misusing the Miraculous.

Bruce sighed and nodded, before hanging up. Poor Bruce. Dick would do his best to get done here and head home. He was excited to meet his new sister! He sent a message to Jason and Tim, warning them of the new sister and to be nice if they caught her on the video chats.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce sighed, exhausted. He hadn’t meant to call the boys yet, but this was not something he wanted to go in blind to. Diana had made a lot of mistakes with Marinette, and she deserved better than that. Bruce had only glanced through the journal to get some insight, but it seemed Marinette suffered from Imposter Syndrome, social anxiety, abandonment issues… And Diana, who only exasperated the problems. Keeping her locked away, training her to exhaustion, taking her hobbies and passions, killing any and all aspects of her personality. Bruce had thought Marinette was just shy. This though. He frowned. Had he known about this he would have treated Marinette very differently. Maybe an hour of sleep would help him clear his head. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred stared blankly at the ceiling. Something wasn’t adding up. For all that her parents were busy people, they seemed to love their daughter a great deal. He couldn’t imagine they had just randomly abandoned her for being a hero. Not when they hosted Chat Noir for dinner one night. Not when they seemed so proud of their daughter with every award she received. Something was off. Alfred wasn’t a detective, but he would find out what had truly happened if it killed him.

{ J }

Jason stared at his phone, re-reading the message from Dick. A new sister, huh?

‘Che, poor kid. Dealing with B all on her own. I’ll have to make this quick,’ he thought as he lifted the binoculars.

He was currently in Germany, following a suspected Miraculous user. The information about the Horse Miraculous stated that they could open portals anywhere. And recently a string of missing women from Cologne was becoming very concerning. Especially when companions and eyewitnesses all claim the same thing: a glowing yellow circle opening in the air and the woman vanishing through it. Jason watched silently as Cass walked down the street below. The tracker and her own training would hopefully keep her alive long enough for Jason to find her and the rest of the women. Nothing below. Maybe check the other side? Just as he was getting up, he felt a fist to his head. And then black.

*!!*

Luka looked at his phone. Marinette was finally in contact again? The day Black Canary had landed, they had bothered her from dawn to dusk to talk to their old leader, but were stonewalled, as her new guardian didn’t think it was a good idea to be constantly reminded of her failure. The team had shouted that it wasn’t Marinette’s failure alone, but the whole teams. And more over, the League’s, as they never took their calls for help seriously. Canary was pretty quickly chased away by them, and another trainer was sent. Green Lantern 1 and 2 were a great help for Kaefer, but the rest of the team didn’t see any real benefit from them. And they didn’t care in the least about Marinette. They didn’t last very long either. It went on like this for a year. Trainers came and went, all of them parroting the same thing. Luka had a new reputation now, as the trainer wrecker, on the team. And as a civilian? He became completely cold and closed off. Only his teammates saw any warmth from him. But even Juleka was being steadily pushed to arms length. Paris did this to Marinette. And none of them, not her friends or her family, even cared.

<(**)>

When Marinette woke up the next morning, she knew immediately that she wasn’t alone. Looking out through blurry eyes, she saw the figure of a man standing by her window. He was turned away, looking outside with the sun streaming in. She tried to remember how she got to her room.

A knock at her door had her quickly closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep. Bruce went to the door.

“Master Bruce. I thought you and Miss Marinette might enjoy some breakfast.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Will you be joining us for breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I have an errand to run in town this morning. But I will be sure to return for lunch. Do try not to burn the kitchen down.”

“You can sit up now, Marinette. I heard the change in your breathing earlier.”

Marinette cracked an eye open. Why? She sat up on her bed and looked up at her current guardian.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Bruce gestured at the end of the bed, carrying a large tray filled with waffles, fruits, yogurt and coffee. Marinette shook her head mutely.

After Bruce set the tray on the middle of the bed, he sat down and looked her in they eye.

“Marinette, what I said last night still stands. I want you to feel at home here. This isn’t temporary. Two of the oldest boys are already calling you their newest sister. Marinette, most of my children are adopted. In fact, only one of my kids is related to me by blood. I wanted to bring you here from the beginning, but lost the custody battle to… Anyways, you’re here now. I want you to feel at home and remember yourself. To have a safe place to just be.”

Marinette felt her eyes watering again. Was this… was this real? But her parents had promised to always be there too, hadn’t they? Marinette nodded. Eventually everything would come to an end. But for now, for just this moment, she would allow herself to be comfortable.

“Okay? Okay. So, I wanted to talk to you about school and extra curriculars. Your work schedule… “ Bruce pulled a notebook out of his breast pocket. Her eyes widened. He… He wanted HER opinion?

“No school” her voice was barely above a whisper, her hands clenched in the blankets and her head bowed. She missed his nod of understanding.

“No school. Just distance education with tests and exams taken in the principle’s office. But I am more interested in what you might be interested in taking in University. Are there any particular courses that interest you? Is there a career path you’d like to follow? We will have to start the applications right away if you want to get in for the Spring term. And what about extra curriculars? Dance? Ice dancing? Gymnastics? Parkour? Sewing? Singing? Music? Most of the kids all learned piano from me at some point…” He was looking in his notebook and tapping his pen against his pants.

Wah…? Marinette felt her jaw drop.

“Am I overwhelming you? It’s okay to take a few days to think things over and let me know…” Bruce looked at her face, jaw slack and eyes wide. Marinette just nodded.

“Breakfast?”

Tag List

@maya-custodios-dionach @dur55 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kill-the-purses @annabellabrookes @a-marlene-s @queenmj10 @loveswifi @elmokingkong @aestheticnpoetic @animalgirl05 @northernbluetongue @lilacandcream @yin-390 @silvergold-swirl @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @goblinwhoships @weird-pale-blonde-person @ @moonlightstar64 @krispydefendorpolice @kuroko26 @ladylupa @jardimazul @welcometopradasa @thatrandomfandomgirl @imanerddealwith @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @loysydark @nataladriana9

#Of Being Ladybug #cons of #maribat #bruce wayne #Marinette deserves better #marinette wayne #marinette fu #daminette #minor lukanette #BatFam

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nerdgirlnarrates · 4 years

Note

Hello, I’m wondering if you’d care to share or if you have shared your thoughts on studying effectively for med school. I’m concerned about having to learn copious amounts of information.

I am so sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this. Truthfully, I was thinking a lot about what to say, since I’m not sure I’m the best person to give advice; I am an average-at-best med student. But, I have asked a lot of people who are stellar students what they do, so I’ll share some of the themes I’ve noticed, and if you want I can make another post with a lot of specifics about how I study and why that does or doesn’t work.

1. As you said, one of the biggest adjustments, if not the biggest adjustment, between undergrad and med school is the sheer volume of information. Each exam covers more information than an undergrad exam would, and this means you need more time to review. But you don’t have time to review: you have a billion lectures every day instead. So what’s a student to do?

The solution is to do a maintenance studying every day. This is not the hardcore studying you might do before an exam, just a little something to keep the material fresh. For some people, maintenance studying may be using anki, a free flashcard app on desktop (and $25 for iPhones 😒) that uses a spaced repetition algorithm to show you flashcards only as often as you need. You can check out r/medicalschoolanki for tons of information and tips on how to use anki as well as a lot of premade decks. Try not to get overwhelmed - you don’t have to be doing every single deck. Experiment until you find what works for you. I will caution that you have to be really diligent with anki, because it’s very easy to let flashcards start piling up (for example, I am currently 5000 flaschards behind 🙃). If you aren’t digging anki (and many don’t), you might opt for re-reading your notes at night instead. Or maybe you use an outside resource as your second pass: skim the relevant pages of First Aid, watch a Boards and Beyond video, etc. There are tons of different resources, so talk to people about what they recommend and think about how you like to learn. I’ll make another post on the resources (that I know about) to give you some ideas.

There are a lot of ways to do maintenance studying, and it may take a while to figure out what works best for you. That’s totally fine! You have time to find your own method that is effective and efficient.

2. Practice questions. This one surprised me, because I never really had to do practice questions in undergrad biology. But in med school, I started missing lots of questions that I had all the information to answer because I wasn’t making the right connections. Practice questions help you synthesize information and reinforce pattern recognition. Plus, it’s easier to remember something once you’ve missed a question about it.

If your school or lecturers offer any practice problems, try those out. You can also look at outside Qbanks like USMLE Rx. Outside Qbanks are especially helpful if your school uses NBMEs, but I’ve found they’re helpful even if you have in-house exams.

3. Stay healthy. Stay healthy, stay healthy, stay healthy. I think this gets overlooked a lot in medical school, so I really can’t emphasize it enough. You cannot do as well on exams if you’re sleep-deprived from pulling all-nighters. You cannot focus as well if you’re not eating enough. It’s really hard to care about studying if you’re miserable and lonely. You are a person first and a student second. If you don’t take care of yourself as a person, you can’t take care of yourself as a student. So try to make sure you’re sleeping enough, that you’re eating and drinking water, that you’re exercising, and that you’re socializing and doing things that make you happy.

It can be really difficult sometimes to take care of yourself when you feel totally overwhelmed with your workload. Maybe you even feel guilty setting school aside to do other things (I definitely do). It’s okay not to be on top of it all the time: you may go a week just eating take-out, or you may go MIA for a few days before an exam. That’s alright. But as much as you can, try to make sure your needs are met before you worry about school. Setting boundaries helps: have a set bedtime and mealtimes, set aside an afternoon or a few hours every day or whatever for hobbies, etc. Not only do these things help with your health, I think they help you as a student too because you actually have the energy and drive to study.

Sometimes taking care of yourself is treated as a weakness or a sign that you don’t care enough about medical school. That is not true. You are not any less of a medical student for wanting to be happy and alive.

4. Get help if you need it. Get help if you even think you might need it. And I mean all kinds of help: school, making friends, your mental health, whatever. Asking for help is smart: it shows that you care about yourself and about your studies. I had a pretty rough first year of medical school and ended up leaning on pretty much everyone I knew. Here is an incomplete list of people I asked for help:

my friends from undergrad

a friend who goes to a different medical school (love you for listening to me mope endlessly @betweenironyandsilver 💛)

my medical school small group

an MS2 who said “let me know if you need anything” one time

three upperclassmen who had been TAs

a therapist

a family friend who’s a doctor

a few other medblrs (shout-out to @coffeeandserotonin and @tachycardic--tendencies who gave me great advice)

a faculty adviser

my parents

It was a lot of people. Not all of them were helpful, but most of them were. And I am definitely doing better for having reached out.

This was super long, but hopefully it was also helpful. Let me know if you have any more questions, and I’ll try to respond faster next time. Good luck with school!

#medblr #studyblr #student #med school #med student #my content #my answers

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nyrator · 4 years

Text

more rambling thoughts

mannn, I’m good at rambling, though I expect everyone’s used to it by now

So, talked with a local friend today about RN, getting advice and such. Mentioned it on twitter, but my main focuses of RN should be the following:

increase legibility/flow of text

fill in negative space better/learn better paneling

incorporate art with words better

be more comfortable with what I share

Been always wondering how my text would show up, and then realized- it needs to be bolder. I don’t know how to do that except to re-make the font with a thicker brush, or maybe just use the bold font and re-fill the template and print out a new font (I’d have to erase the old font data on the website I use to make fonts which irks my OCD, but honestly it should be fine since I still have the original template anyway)

in terms of negative space/paneling, yeah, my backgrounds are a bit too barren and I feel like I can only draw characters, and get too lazy/intimidated to work on the backgrounds, so hm. I really like Kabi’s simple yonkoma panel format, but I’ve chosen to do a more varied one, so I just need to get better at doing it.

Also, mannnn, narrating over art is very hard for some reason. It’s one thing to tell a sequential story, it’s another to draw things that represent something you’re narrating. I feel like I’m almost rushing things too much too, when I should make things longer and elaborate- but I guess that’s what later chapters will hopefully be like. But yeah, I write the text out, then I just draw blanks on what to actually draw for it. I need to stomach myself to be able to read more Kabi for reference (god waiting until January for her next work to come to English is painful...), find more autobiographical manga maybe and study them.

I’ve spoken with people about personal issues/the complex I’m scared posting publicly, both because I don’t want people to think less or weird of me, and because the content I want to draw I’ve considered taboo, something you’re not meant to speak about publicly. It’s weird talking about it to people and realizing how silly it sounds out loud, but man, it’s really weighed heavy on my conscious. I’ve seen Kabi speak so openly about it though, and seeing her draw things publicly that I’d be much too mortified to ever draw, and it makes me wonder if I could as well, I suppose.

The answer I’ve figured out is, just do it, but do it privately- Or at least, contain it to the main galleries and not reblog it. Debating keeping it a website-exclusive thing, or having a separate Twitter dedicated to RN. I’ll probably wait until July to decide and think things through. But that way, only people interested in the comic will see it. I just hope that kind of content doesn’t devalue the comic itself.

A lot of my friends have NSFW accounts, places I don’t visit but can only assume about, and I don’t judge them any differently, so wouldn’t it be the same for me if I did this? Yet I can’t shake my insecurities, probably from a lifetime of punishing myself over this silly complex. Is it normal, is it sick? I just don’t know.

Maybe acceptance is all I need, accepting myself that is. Accept it’s a part of me and embrace it, or just be comfortable with it and not care what others think.

Sometimes it feels like I’m living a lie, or leading people on. It’s not related to the complex, but I think about identity issues too, seeing what people face. And I’ve accepted what I am for a long time- an identity of “let other people decide for me, it doesn’t matter what I am”, but I’ve grown to feel more and more like it’s a lie, that I’m just tricking people for no good reason acting like that. Such a passive way of being me is bound to hurt people sooner or later, I imagine.

Acceptance is weird, but maybe one day I’ll accept myself. I sometimes wonder if that’s part of my issue- not letting people see the real me, and being afraid to get close enough for them to find out I’m something different. Even streaming is intimidating to me because of this- revealing flaws of myself, my accent, my voice and the way I talk (or inability to talk coherently is more like it), revealing my appearance to people in things like facecams on stream, it’s intimidating, but maybe I should try it and just move on from this mindset. At least get back into shape and work on my appearance, after the virus I’ve not been maintaining myself properly since I haven’t been leaving the apartment

It’s really hard to do things and keep at it- Finishing projects, maintaining body, learning new things- I still tell myself, “I should learn C or C++, I should learn Japanese”, and I’ve been telling myself that for years. Focus is a tricky thing, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to learn it or if it’s too late to learn to ‘focus’.

#text stuffs #nyrants

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smileyjaeminies · 5 years

Text

Τhe athlete with the cute eye smile

Synopsis: Trials and tribulations follow high school life as it seems. Jeno is troubled and anxious regarding his upcoming game. With the stakes getting higher and higher, how will you all cope?

Word Count: 3,9k

Genre: slow burn, angst, fluff

Warnings: none

Member: 00z, ft. Yangyang

A/N: I re-wrote this climax three times… I just hope I chose the right one. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. I’m looking forward to 2020… Are you?

~Series Masterlist~

In the weeks that followed, you managed to piece together bits and pieces about Renjun’s story. You never got a whole explanation and honestly you didn’t need one. You just wished you could help him feel better.

Finally in sync, you and the boys managed to forge a shield of protection around Renjun. He wouldn’t say, as he didn’t have to, but he was surrounded by people that clearly cared about him and that was enough.

As time passed, your relationship with the boys only grew. Time spent together was always time well spent. Yangyang and Jeno knew how to make you laugh like no other, Jaemin made you feel like the baddest bitch and Renjun was the only one you could spend hours of silence with. Even Donghyuck seemed to finally be able to stand you, his witty remarks only making you laugh instead of getting angry.

Elena would join you sometimes, as you followed each of their schedules. She and Renjun would paint together, or she would join you on the bleachers as you cheered at Jeno’s games. Yangyang was reluctant to have you both on dance practices but he let his guard down after a little convincing.

At the moment you were waiting for Jeno to pick you up from the library. As the only person with a car, he would drop you off home sometimes after a late practice or study session. You had offered countless times to pay for gas money, but he would get angry every time you brought it up, so you learned to just go with it.

Seeing his familiar black car, you walked towards him. You got in the car and shot Jeno a smile. He returned the smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s up? Tough practice?” you asked.

Jeno kept his eyes glued at the road and nodded slightly. His expression was very serious and you could tell something was eating at him.

“Can you turn on the radio or something?” he asked.

“Sure” you said, right as a mischievous idea popped up in your head.

Instead of turning on the radio, you connected your phone to the sound system of the car. Searching around Spotify for the perfect song, you finally found it, clicking on it and turning to Jeno, smiling like crazy. You had just stopped at a red light and he turned to you as the first notes of ‘Do you want to build a snowman?’ started playing.

Jeno burst out in laughter as you playfully knocked on the car’s dashboard and sang your heart out to him.

“Go away Y/N!” Jeno said and you sang the rest of the song together.

Driving through the streets of your small town, you finished the song and Jeno’s mood got significantly better.

“Do you have to go home? Can we go get some ice cream first?” Jeno asked.

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to spend more time with Jeno, hopefully help him feel a lot better. You wished you could, but after glancing at the watch on your wrist you realized you were already late.

“Jeno, I can’t. You know how my dad gets… We’ll go tomorrow, okay?” you tried.

“Right. We’ll go tomorrow, after school.” Jeno answered.

“Jen… Tomorrow’s Saturday” you pointed out, as you pulled up in front of your house.

“Right. Saturday. No school. I’ll pick you up at 5?” Jeno offered.

You reached for his jaw and turned him to face you. You searched in his eyes, trying to figure out what was troubling him. He returned your stare and you saw that he was anxious, anxious and tired.

You tried to brush it off, leaning in to give him a hug over the center console and a light kiss on his cheek.

“Tomorrow, 5 o’clock. Don’t be late Lee Jeno” you said, getting out of the car and into your house.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you were face timing Elena and talking about your day. When she offered to come binge watch Stranger Things with you next afternoon, you had to decline.

“So is it like a date?” Elena asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“No, Elena, it’s not like a date” you said. “We’re just going out”

“Going out it is then. I see” Elena answered.

“You are impossible, you know that?” you asked.

“Definitely. I like to think that it’s my charm” your best friend answered.

You scoffed. “Sure it is” you mumbled to yourself.

“Babe, I gotta go, we’ll talk tomorrow” you told her.

After a few quick words, you ended the call.

Lying in your bed, you chased after Morpheus, but sleep was unwelcome to you that night. You tossed and turned as Elena’s teasing tone made you more and more anxious. Surely, you had gone on many one on one “dates” with the boys, Jeno included. So what about this one proved to be so different?

Answers lied just out of your reach and it was so weird for you to be stressing over this. Jeno of all people. Jeno, who made you feel welcome since the first time you really talked to him at the club. Jeno, who always wanted to find reasons to make you smile. Jeno, who hated the thought of you walking alone at night and went out of his way to drop you off home.

You were confused and stressed. You looked at your ceiling, desperately trying to put your thoughts in order. Your phone buzzed softly on your bedside table, making you jump. The screen blared its light as it took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust.

The name on your screen made your heart beat faster.

Jeno-jam

I can’t sleep

You

I can’t either

Jeno-jam

Shit, did I wake you up?

You

No, Jeno, I just told you I can’t sleep

“Idiot” you muttered under your breath.

Jeno-jam

Just, try to get some sleep, okay? It’s real late.

You

You’re awake too

Jeno-jam

Touché.

If I promise to sleep, will you?

You

… Maybe

Jeno-jam

Goodnight, Y/N

You

Sleep well Jeno

You locked your phone and placed it back on your nightstand. You got comfortable under your covers and finally, Morpheus’s arms were there to greet you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you were finally feeling calm and collected. You sat down, got some homework done, you went to your dance practice and your whole day flowed as usual. After grabbing lunch with some of your friends, it was time to head back home.

After taking a much needed shower, you got ready for your outing with Jeno. Nerves starting kicking in as the clock got closer and closer to 5. The well-known ‘ding’ of your phone made you jump as you read Jeno’s message. After bidding a quick good-bye to your parents, you walked out of the door and into Jeno’s car.

This time, Jeno’s mood was significantly better. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, Jeno turned his head and you ended up kissing the corner of his mouth.

You both flushed at the contact, but Jeno managed to compose himself as you rested back on your seat and buckled your seatbelt.

“So… Timmy’s?” Jeno offered, naming one of your favorite ice cream parlors.

“You know it!” you confirmed, smiling back at him and brushing of the awkward moment.

Jeno turned on the radio and you shuffled through the stations, trying to find something that clicked. Miraculously, you stumbled upon Billie Eilish’s ‘Bad Guy’.

“I love this song!” you and Jeno said at the same time as you sang and danced.

You quickly arrived at your destination, both shuffling out of the car. You reached the small shop and Jeno kindly opened the door for you.

“What a gentleman!” you teased.

“Oh, shut up” he said, pushing you in front of the display.

Your eyes lit up, looking at the variety of flavors before you. You were completely overwhelmed and all the choices seemed delicious.

“You go first, I need to think this through!” you told Jeno and he smiled.

“I’ll take strawberry, thank you” Jeno politely ordered.

You looked at him, bewildered. “How can you decide so quickly? And such a plain flavor too! Bleh.”

Jeno laughed and ruffled your hair. You gave him the stink eye but he hardly seemed to notice.

“Nothing can go wrong with strawberry! Strawberry is always a win! Besides, I’m pretty sure I still have the taste buds of a five year old child.” He said.

You quietly hummed at his answer, still pondering your own choice as he paid.

“Okay then, I’ll go with lime please!” you announced to the employee.

“Are you sure about that? It’s pretty strong!” she warned you.

“I’ll take my chances then” you answered smiling at her.

You walked to the cashier, taking out your wallet, but she informed you that Jeno had already paid for your treat. You got your ice cream and headed to where Jeno was sitting, leisurely scooping small bites out of his ice cream.

“That, was not necessary.” You told him sternly.

He only looked back at you, a cheeky glint in his eyes and an easy smile on his lips.

“Fine. FINE.” You said as you took a small bite out of your own ice scream. You shuddered at the strong flavor, but enjoyed it all the same.

Easy conversation flowed between you and Jeno as you enjoyed your ice creams. When you both finished, he offered to take a walk at the nearby park and you accepted. A comfortable silence reigned over both of you, but the question of what was eating at him the previous night still lingered in the air. You mustered up all your courage and asked.

“So… Just the tough practice yesterday? Or is there anything else going on?” you asked, testing the waters.

Jeno took a few seconds before he replied. With a big breath, he began.

“To be honest, it’s been a rough couple of practices. Coach is pretty anxious about the game coming up next week. We’re all anxious too, that’s why we keep making mistakes. I just… I’ve been thinking. About basketball, about school, about everything really. And the more that I think, the more nervous I get. Nothing seems quite right and I don’t know how to tell what is. Does that even make sense?”

You also took a few moments before answering. You tried to collect your thoughts to form a truthful answer and one that could help him as well. Jeno led you to a bench at that moment, waiting for your answer. As you both settled in, you turned to look at him before you started talking.

“I get that your coach is stressed and I’m sure he’s just pushing you because he knows you can cope with the long hours and hard work. He believes in you, I’m sure about that, just as he believes in all other players on the team.”

“But if you’re having doubts about basketball that’s okay too. If you think you can find another path that is more fitting than this one, then I’m sure you’ll thrive in that as well. All it comes down to is doing something you’re passionate about, something you love.”

“I know everything seems iffy right now but… You don’t have to decide. We’re still too young to have our futures all figured out. You have the time to make mistakes, in fact, this is just the time to do it. I know it sounds stupid but… Try not to let it stress you out. Just keep looking and I’m sure the right thing will come up sooner rather than later.” You finished.

You stayed quiet for a few moments, as you saw Jeno taking in your words. Your eyes never left his face, while he never met your stare, only looking ahead.

“Sorry for the speech, I-” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, don’t apologize. It was perfect. I don’t know how you do it.” He said.

“Do what?” you asked.

“Always know the right thing to say. Honestly, it must be magic or something” he replied.

“It’s not… I’m just doing my best.” You said.

“Come here” he said, opening up his arms.

You shuffled next to him, burying your face in his shoulder as he squeezed you to his side.

“Let’s just stay like this for a while, ‘kay?” he asked and you nodded.

A comfortable silence enveloped you, but you could hear the gears in Jeno’s mid turning. After a while he spoke up.

“You’ll come at the game next week? For good luck?” he asked and turned you to look at him.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You answered and he graced you with a smile that finally reached his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days passed quickly and before even Jeno himself knew it, his big day had arrived. After wrapping up your classes, you raced back home as to get back in record time to wish Jeno good luck before the game.

As you ran into the basketball court, your phone rang in your back pocket. Seeing Jeno’s name pop up on your screen, you couldn’t help but smile as you accepted the call.

“I’m walking towards the locker room right now” You said, skipping the pleasantries.

“Good” he answered and hang up immediately.

You saw him walk out of the locker room and you jumped into his extended arms without a second thought. He held you close and spun you around as you laughed into his shoulder.

“I’m terrified. If I freeze out there, it’s going to be so embarrassing.” He told you.

“I see the escape route, you want to get out of here?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

He shook his head without a second thought. You knew he wouldn’t leave, but your heart swelled with pride to see him so determined.

“I have to do this. And I will. Right?” he asked, uncertainty clear in his voice.

“Right.” You answered, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He beamed back at you, eye smile and all and you couldn’t help but hug him again.

“You better get going, I think we only have a couple of minutes left” he said into your hair, without breaking the hug.

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you out there” you said finally, walking back into the court.

Your eyes skimmed the bleachers, looking for your friends. At last you saw both Renjun and Jaemin, waving their arms at you like those inflatable things on gas stations. You laughed and shook your head while making your way to them through the crowd.

“I saved you a seat right next to me!” Jaemin announced proudly.

“Nice to see you too, Nana” you said, hugging him and then Renjun.

“Oh good, the princess is here” you heard Donghyuck mumble.

You did your best to brush it off, pretend you didn’t hear it. You greeted him, but he only nodded as a reply.

“Where’s Yangyang?” you asked.

You were surprised to hear Donghyuck’s voice reply.

“He’s running some errands with his mom, couldn’t help it. He’s going to be here though. He always is.” He said with certainty.

Well that was a side of Donghyuck you didn’t get to witness very often, one he kept saved only for his loved ones. You know this was the real him, deep down just a person with so much love to give but too awkward to know how to give it.

“I have a good feeling about this” you mumbled to no one in particular.

Donghyuck turned to look at you and nodded. Even if you didn’t get along well, you were unified in these moments, because Jeno needed you, all of you.

And before you knew it, the referee called for everyone to be seated as the two teams emerged from the locker rooms. Again, you were all on your feet, Jaemin working the hardest to catch Jeno’s attention. Finally successful, Jeno looked at all of you as you waved and clapped, showing a shy smile.

The game began. Basketball was never really your thing, you were more of a volleyball girl yourself, but as you watched both teams fight for dominance on the court, you were amazed by their skills and passion. At the end of the first half, the other team sadly had the advantage by 10 points.

Just as the game was about to resume, Yangyang called Renjun to help him find their seats.

“I’m gonna go get him, the idiot never learnt left and right” Renjun announced and walked off.

Renjun came back in record time, Yangyang not far behind him but clearly out of breath. All of you mumbled your hellos but none of you could really avert your gaze from the game before you. Just as Yangyang sat down, the opposing time scored another three points and everyone grunted in dismay.

“Things aren’t looking so good are they?” Yangyang asked and all of you shook your heads grimly.

“Come on, Jeno” Jaemin mumbled under his breath.

As if Jeno miraculously heard him, he dribbled the ball surely, passing by one of his opponents and shooting from the three point range. The ball hit the basket, wavered a little and finally went in.

Jeno looked shocked at himself, as it was the first three points his team had shot in the second half, and the bleachers went crazy. Everyone was screaming and cheering, including you.

Jeno turned to look at the bleachers to find everyone smiling brightly at him. That was the only fuel he needed to push forward.

The second half passed by in a blur as your school’s team seemed to move in complete coordination. They hardly made mistakes and the other team seemed threatened. The second half ended with your team winning by 3 points.

For the third half, everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats. The players we getting tired, but there was no stopping now. With new found determination, both teams stepped back on the court. It was a full blown battle. As one team scored, the other did its absolute best to retaliate. You could feel everyone’s nerves around you as the clock ticked the seconds away.

With another three points from one of Jeno’s teammates, the game ended and the crowd erupted in cheers. The two teams we still shaking hands when Donghyuck pushed past you and raced towards to court. The rest of the boys followed his lead, but you stayed behind.

In the time you had been talking with the boys, you had learnt to discern their “boys” time and time spent together with you. They were, after all, friends long before you came along; it was to be expected that they wanted to spend time just them five. This, was one of those times.

You watched from the sidelines as Donghyuck flung himself on a sweaty Jeno, keeping him close as he congratulated him. Jaemin pushed Donghyuck playfully, hugging Jeno as Renjun and Yangyang were blubbering away. Donghyuck was talking animatedly with his hands and Jeno was smiling so bright, it made your heart melt.

The crowd had mostly dispersed as you made your way through the court. The boys were walking out, probably expecting to find you outside as you made your way to the hallway that lead to the locker rooms. Jeno noticed you and made his way to you, beaming like a spotlight. Enveloping you in a hug, you laughed at how tight he was holding you.

“You did it, you were so good, you did it Jeno” you repeated in a low voice.

Jeno pushed you back, taking a look at your eyes. You looked at him, both smiling like idiots as he leaned in and kissed you.

You gasped into the kiss, while he held your head in place and connected his lips to your own. You were frozen and you had no idea how to react. He broke apart and you just stood there like an idiot, wondering what was wrong with you

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, omg I’m so sorry. I’m a mess, it’s the adrenaline from the game I-” he said but you cut him off.

“I’m sorry, I… This isn’t what I was thinking” you started.

“It’s not what I was thinking either! I don’t even know why I did that, I’m so sorry.” He repeated.

“Okay, stop apologizing. It was just a kiss okay?” you said.

“Right. Right” he replied.

You were about to speak, when your ringtone cut you off. Your dad was calling you to pick you up. You brought your finger to your mouth as you answered the call and Jeno kept quiet as you told your dad you’d come at the front in a second.

You hang up quickly and turned to Jeno once again. You had so much to say and you felt like no words were right at the moment. You leaned in and hugged him once more.

“I’m so proud of you” you said, and run off.

You avoided the rest of the boys as you ran outside and made it in your dad’s car. His attempt at small-talk was thin, as it had always been between you and your dad. Too late for your own liking, you found yourself back in the safety of your own home. You changed quickly and put your music on full blast. You didn’t want to think. Not right now. Right now, thinking would only drive you crazy.

You danced, sang, jumped and screamed a little before your mom came rushing into your room, screaming at you for almost bringing the whole house down. You took a shower in an attempt to relax and got ready to watch the new episode of one of your favorite shows before going to bed.

As you settled in and readied the episode, your phone dinged with a text. You were not surprised to see Jeno’s name pop up on the screen. Your mind brought back the feeling of his lips on yours, his hand in your hair. You shook off the thought, opening his message anyway.

Jeno-jam

I’m so fucked up. Y/N, honestly, you don’t know how sorry I am. I have no idea why I did that. I had thought of a million excuses but none of them is true. I wasn’t thinking. At all. I don’t want to risk out friendship just because I’m a fucking idiot…

I just don’t want to lose you.

You leaned your head back against the headboard trying to gather your thoughts. Of course this wouldn’t change your friendship with Jeno… Would it?

Jeno was a whirlwind of emotions. He was the soft pain on your stomach from laughing too much, tears falling on your cheeks. He was pecks on the cheek and long hugs. He was excitement and anxiety, he was power and fragility. Jeno was loyal to a fault. Jeno was quick to anger and easy to tease. Jeno was bright and kind, and loving to everyone around him.

You already knew the answer in your heart, before your brain could forward it to your fingers.

You

Jeno, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. ;)

Jeno-jam

Y/N, this isn’t funny.

Oh.

OH.

Okay?

You

I’m watching ‘The Crown’, do not disturb me Lee Jeno or I will have your head

Jeno-jam

Yes ma’am.

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years

Text

Aten Pt. 3

How much longer will this fic be? Idk, but I’m having fun, so here we go again!

Went ahead and just uh...sort of created my own canon re: the tablet. Look, if the movie writers could do whatever they wanted with it, so can I lol. No rules, no right, just me doing whatever I want with canon.

We get nsfw at the end because I couldn’t help myself lol. Definitely gonna be a part four and maybe more?? Because I’m not done with these two yet.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

He was bored. Horribly bored. It was silly, he knew that. After all, they’d only had two dates. To be so attached this much already was ridiculous, foolhardy.

Yet he lay on the couch in the employee lounge, doing nothing except feeling lonely and trying to get his sandals off his feet, using only his feet to kick and tug at them.

Larry walked in, and sighed. “Important business, huh? You ever lose your hands, you’ll be set.”

They shared a brief look, and Ahk broke.

“I miss him,” he grumbled. “And it isn’t his fault; he needs to keep up his studies, and I’m being childish and silly and stupid and-”

“And you still miss him despite all that, and that’s okay,” Larry interrupted, lifting Ahk’s legs so he could sit on the end of the couch, letting Ahk’s legs sit on his lap. “It isn’t a bad thing. Just means you really like each other, and that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is,” Ahk replied. “But this is...fast. Too fast? I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had anything like this. Flings, sure, but nothing concrete. Nothing where we both wanted...”

“More?”

He nodded, and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You aren’t going to mess anything up,” Larry soothed. “You two have barely gotten started, so don’t go worrying about an end that you might not even have.”

“I suppose you’d know,” Ahk said. “I mean, you’ve been in a...well.”

“You mean my divorce? Yeah, that’s a sort of ending for a relationship. But a whole different level than where you two are. Don’t worry so much; you and...what have you been calling him? He told me, but I won’t want to get it wrong.”

“Aten,” Ahk replied. “Because he warms me like the sun used to.”

Larry smiled. “You really are falling hard, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Ahk admitted softly, blushing as he pondered what Aten was up to with the group project. Was he tired, frustrated, stressed? “I’d rather learn to fly beside him though, instead of falling until I hit bottom, you know?”

Larry nodded. “I get it. And I think you two will be just fine. Physically, at least, we know for sure you’re good together. I mean, I presume, from accidentally walking in, and-”

“I’m so sorry about that,” Ahk said, blushing even more. “We really will start locking the door, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Larry laughed. “No harm done. And if you needed anyone else to have uh...proof that you two are getting along, well, I saw it. You have anything planned for tomorrow night with him? On the couch or off of it, I mean.”

“Stop!” Ahk found himself giggling. Giggling! When had his afterlife ever held so much joy? It was wonderful. “A movie, maybe. I do want to get to know him, not just his body. I figure that might be an okay time to sit and relax, talk some.”

“I can try and get you some movies,” Larry said. “Unless you both really want to watch the movie on whales playing in the theater here. But he likes classic older movies, I know that much, so if you want me to...”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not. I’ll find some DVDs for you, make sure the player in here is up to snuff. Not sure it’s ever been used, if I’m honest,” Larry replied. “We’ll get it all set up, and you two can have a movie night for the next few nights. Sound good?”

Ahk nodded. “Thank you, Larry. For all of this.”

“Not a problem. I like helping you two out; you’re good, sweet kids.”

“We’re both adults,” Ahk laughed. “We do act a bit like love-sick teenagers though, I suppose.”

“If anyone has a right to moments like that, it’s you,” Larry said. “You deserve a chance to just relax, have fun with someone. I know you don’t really ever stop being royalty, but...some time off, maybe. Or time where you don’t have to think about it, or act like it. He knows and likes you for you, not the pharaoh he read about on your informational plaque.”

He lifted Ahk’s legs and stood, setting them gently back on the couch. “I’ve got some other chores to look after, but I’ll try and check back in on you, okay? You good alone in here? Not gonna pine too much?”

“No promises,” Ahk snickered, but inside his heart was heavy. How quickly he’d gotten used to Aten’s attention and presence, to something that was too new to be love, but tasted sweetly of it, and that he couldn’t get enough of.

He was glad he hadn’t promised as the night progressed. He languished alone in the lounge, trying to think of anything other than Aten, his voice, his smile, his hands, his lips.

Finally, he broke down and retrieved the pen and paper from his things in Larry’s locker. He hadn’t written love poetry as others his age had for their lovers, though he’d thought about it once or twice. He couldn’t match the beauty of the tablets displayed in the hall near his exhibit, bearing love poetry that took one’s breath away.

But he had to try, or his heart would burst. And hopefully, Aten would be as kind and receptive to it as Ahk expected.

He hid the final draft with him in his sarcophagus. He knew Larry wouldn’t judge him for it, but for now, it was for his and Aten’s eyes only.

***

He nearly fell out of his sarcophagus in his rush to leave it the next night. He was ready for it, to show Aten the poem, to have movie night with him, to sit and snuggle and talk. It was all terribly romantic, and he loved every bit of it.

But Larry was the only one that greeted him at the main desk.

“It’s okay,” Larry reassured. “He’s just got a bad cold, and he was very worried you could somehow get sick, so he didn’t want to come in-”

“I’ll go to him then,” Ahk interrupted.

“Ah,” Larry mumbled. “You’d have to ch-”

Before Larry could finish his sentence, Ahk dashed to the lounge, changing into his sweatshirt and pants at the speed of light, leaving his royal garb tossed on the couch.

He panted as he arrived back at the desk, feeling to ensure the poem was still safe in the bag of his things that he’d taken from Larry’s locker. He wasn’t sure he’d need any of it, but better safe than sorry. “I’m changed.”

“So I see,” Larry laughed. “I told him I was sending over a surprise. He misses you too, so this will cheer him up. All he could talk about when he called me earlier, actually. He hated the idea of not making it in tonight. I doubt you can get sick though. Anyway, I called you a cab, and you’ll have to be back-”

“I could spend the day with him,” Ahk interrupted. “There’s a...how to word it. A setting? On the tablet. Only I can change it, as the guardian of it. It leaves the magic...on? I don’t know how else to explain it, and I know it has something to do with running on the power of the moon and the sun then, but-”

He waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter right now. What it means, is I could spend the night and day with him, and I promise to be careful and safe and-”

“Slow down!” Larry held up his hands. “I’m not arguing! Though I am curious...you never wanted to change the setting ever before? To see what would happen if you left everyone alive all day?” I know it won’t affect everyone else now, but...”

“I wanted to save it for emergencies,” Ahk replied. “And this is one!”

“Okay,” Larry smiled. “Tell you what. You go change it, and I’ll get the DVDs I brought in your bag. I’m sure he’s got some way to play them. Go on, get it done!”

He ran again, nearly sliding past the open door to his exhibit in his haste. The changing of it was easy enough. An incantation and the flip of a square on the tablet, and a moment later he could feel it was done as the tablet glowed briefly. He felt more energized, more alive. It was wonderful.

Now, he had a boyfriend (or something close to one, since they hadn’t said that word yet) to go look after.

He browsed the DVDs as he rode in the cab. The Clock, Funny Face, An American In Paris, The King and I...movies he knew, and had seen once or twice, but only while on display near the theaters in other museums, the times they had displays on famous films and plays.

The selection only sort of mattered anyway, and Larry had done fine enough. Ideally, they’d be able to sit and talk while the movies played in the background, though he couldn’t fault Aten if he fell asleep. He remembered sickness like that, in a vague way, that left the body weary and weak. So long as they were together, he’d be happy.

Aten’s apartment building was plain, but he remembered other students at other museums speaking of living in such conditions. When school was the priority, any roof (particularly a cheap one) would do.

He used the buzzer in the front hall, and hoped Aten was still awake enough to hear it.

“Larry?” Aten sounded utterly miserable.

“Not Larry,” Ahk replied, and smiled at the happy if tired laugh that answered him.

“No way! Come on up...oh god, I’ll be dressed decent by the time you get up here, I promise.”

“Decent or indecent, you’re perfect either way,” Ahk said before charging up the first two flights of stairs. By the third, he had slowed down. By the fourth, Aten’s floor, he was cursing the invention of stairs.

He leaned against the door, trying to look like he didn’t feel horribly out of breath and exhausted from only four flights of stairs, and knocked.

“Hey! Ah, the stairs got ya. Happens to everyone; they take getting used to,” Aten said as he ushered him in.

“Do they punish you by not putting in an elevator? Are they unaware that the technology exists?”

Aten laughed, then coughed hard.

“Go sit,” Ahk instructed, setting his bag on the small table in between the kitchen and the living room (really just one room, though the table wasn’t a horrible line of demarcation.) “I’m here to take care of you.”

“You might get-”

“I don’t think I can get sick,” Ahk interrupted softly. “And even if I do, you can just return the favor later and take care of me.”

“Deal,” Aten sighed as he flopped onto the couch, looking absolutely adorably cuddly in his own sweater and sweatpants. “Sorry I’m not great company tonight. I feel like shit. Do you have an ancient Egyptian cure for that?”

“No, but Larry apparently bought you cough syrup,” he said, pulling a bottle out of the bag. He hadn’t seen Larry sneak it in, but it was certainly a sweet gesture. “That’s as close to a cure as you’ll get.”

“You don’t know any magic cures for colds?”

“Sorry, my love,” Ahk said as he brought the bottle and DVDs over to the coffee table by the couch, and sat by Aten. “Even we didn’t figure that out. Not with or without magic.”

“Love?” Aten smiled.

The blush left him feeling overly warm, and he looked away. “Sorry, that’s-”

“Really sweet, and just fine,” Aten interrupted, and grabbed his hand. “My DVD player is really out, and kind of shitty, but why don’t we throw something on and you can cuddle with me. I think that’s a cure for a cold, I read it somewhere.”

“Did you now?” Ahk teased as he went to put a DVD on, grabbing one at random. “And where was that? What journal?”

“Very highly respected one,” Aten replied with a grin. “Love-based medicine journal. I think you’d like it.”

He sat at the DVD player for a moment more, and giggled. “Sounds reputable. You’ll have to read it to me sometime.”

“To you?”

“Sure. I can spend the days and nights here now, if I want, and I might need a bedtime story,” Ahk said as he moved back to the couch, the beginning of the movie flashing on the screen of Aten’s TV. “I mean, I said just tonight and tomorrow to Larry. But I think, even after the tablet is fixed, there’s a way for me to arrange it so the magic continuing into the day only affects me.”

There was, and he knew it for sure, but that was his secret to hang onto for now. Larry might not go for it right away, and he wanted to give him time to warm up to it.

“You...so there’s a way to use it so you can stay alive during the day too? You get to spend the night?”

“If you’ll have me,” Ahk replied, wrapping an arm around him. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No, not at all. I want you to stay,” Aten said, then sniffled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you can’t help it. Relax, rest. You need it.”

They sat for a bit then as the King and I played, Aten eventually laying so his head was in Ahk’s lap, and he could run his hands through that reddish-blonde hair, watch the light from the one small lamp hear them catch it.

Aten sighed softly, and stretched carefully, not unlike a cat.

“You like that?”

He nodded. “You’re gonna put me to sleep if you keep playing with it like that though.”

“You need the sleep,” Ahk replied. “I’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry.”

Aten buried his face in Ahk’s stomach and his heart leapt. It was so cute it hurt.

“This is way too early to say this, but-”

“Why?” he interrupted. “Why is it too early?”

Aten moved his face back, and looked up at him. “Because in other relationships, it was. I scared them off, I think. I don’t mean anything by it, like we don’t need to run to get married right now or anything, but I mean...okay, I do mean something by it, and that’s that I love you and I love that you seem to love me and I really hope we keep loving each other like this, even though I know nothing’s perfect all the time.”

He took a breath, but Aten coughed and kept going.

“And I know that means we might fight over stupid shit, or have days where we’re both too tired to do anything other than sit near each other, and I know that this has to be a certain way because of who you are and what you have to do, and I’m more than ready to do whatever I have to so that all works out. I’m ready to work to preserve something that feels like it’s gonna be so good, even better than it already is.”

His breath was gone then, as he gently moved Aten up close to him and kissed him. Aten’s arms were around his neck, and he could feel how warm the sickness had made him.

“Dizzy?” he smiled as he let Aten lay back.

“In a good way,” he replied. “I take it that meant...”

“That I love you too, and whatever and however we make this work. If I had my way, I’d never switch the tablet back, and we’d do this right. Staying together, not having to worry about my getting back to the museum at any point.”

His statement hung in the air for a moment as Aten’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. That’s...for me? Really?”

“Really,” Ahk said. “...you’re actually dizzy right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and closed his eyes. “But that’s just the cold or whatever this is fucking up my inner ear, not you, I promise.”

“I know, don’t worry. Maybe I should put you to bed though. We could save the movies for another night.”

“No, I’m good,” Aten said, his eyes still closed, and immediately yawned. “Ignore that, that’s uh...a weird cough.”

“Sure it is,” Ahk said, and started to play with his hair again.

By the time the movie was over, Aten was snoring softly in his lap, turned slightly on his side. He need to be in bed, properly, that much Ahk knew for sure.

Moving him, however, was a less than easy task. He didn’t wake so much as opened and then promptly closed his eyes again as Ahk worked to sit him up, then to drag him off the couch and down the hall to the bedroom, passing the alarmingly small bathroom as they went.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, and I’m so strong,” Ahk teased as he attempted to drop Aten gently on his bed.

“You are so strong,” Aten mumbled, half-muffled by the part of the comforter smashed against his face. “I love it. C’mere, I wanna feel your muscles. Lemme feel.”

“You can do that tomorrow; you need sleep now,” Ahk said as he pondered if trying to move Aten so he was laying in the bed, not just flopped onto one side of it would be worth the trouble. He was at least on the bed, after all, and apparently comfortable enough.

“Nah. Gotta feel ‘em, right now,” Aten rolled over, his eyes barely open as he reached his hands out for Ahk.

“You’re too tired, it’s making you silly.”

Aten grumbled something, and rolled back over, sighing into the comforter.

He bit back a laugh. It was adorably pathetic, the poor thing. “Shall I help you actually get into the bed? I bet you’d be more comfortable than you are now.”

“Eh.”

“I’ll let you snuggle with me if you properly get in the bed.”

Aten scrabbled forward and then up and over so he was finally at one of the pillows on the bed. “I did it.”

“Yes, you did. I should go get you the medicine-”

“No. Just want you,” Aten interrupted. “That’s good medicine.”

“You and that love-based medicine journal. Dangerous reading, it seems,” Ahk joked as he lay down beside Aten.

The way Aten immediately leaned over to kiss him, hard, then moving to lay on top of him was no joke however. It was good, the best, though he knew he needed to stop him. As much as they both might want it, what Aten really needed was rest.

But he let it go for a few moments, finding it impossible to stop from moaning and whimpering under Aten’s kisses and touch.

“Fuck,” he murmured after a particularly searing kiss, that left him grinding his hips as hard as he could against Aten’s. They were both hard, and he wanted desperately to get both of their clothes off, to be as close as possible.

But that wasn’t what they should be doing, and he tried again to speak up, only for it to turn from a “I know you’re tired, why don’t we pick this up in the morning” to a “fuck, please don’t stop” as Aten moaned against his neck, bit down just so on his shoulder, whining and sighing as one of his hands moved to pull Ahk’s legs around him.

Finally, he managed it. “Love...hang on.”

Aten stopped immediately, eyes open wide. “I’m sorry; are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t. You’re sick, and you should be asleep right now. I can see you’ve got your second wind, but we can always finish this in the morning.”

“But you’re close, aren’t you?” that was a wonderfully wicked smile that broke only to kiss him again as Aten’s hips moved against his. “So am I.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he tried to say, but it turned into a gasping sigh. “You...fucking hell. You really want to finish this, now?”

Aten was wide awake now, he could tell that, those deep, dark gorgeous brown eyes looking into his in such a way he couldn’t break the connection of the gaze.

“I want this. As much as I want all of it. To be with you all through tomorrow, to sit and talk and do whatever else we want. To keep seeing you whenever I can, to keep doing this whenever we both want to and can. As much as I want you, for you. The man behind the crown that plays with my hair and drags me into bed when I don’t feel well, that loves me.”

The tears that fell were happy ones as he let himself rock against Aten again, kissing him softly, sweetly. They came within moments of each other, limbs intertwined, his legs pulling Aten as close as he could possibly be.

“You...fuck, sorry, I....” he could hardly catch his breath as they calmed, hips still jerking every now and again against each other. “You need to sleep now.”

“You’re right,” Aten sighed, and kissed him. “So do you. You get to sleep, actually sleep for once. You remember how?”

“Funny,” Ahk smirked as he untangled himself from Aten, to try and find a towel to clean them up. But the bathroom only had room for the toilet, bath, and a medicine cabinet. “You don’t have towels?”

“They’re in here. I don’t have anywhere else to put them, so they’re in my dresser.”

Ahk came back into the bedroom, and frowned as he retrieved one from the third dresser drawer. “I don’t even want to know how much you pay for this little space.”

“Man, even I don’t wanna know that. I try to forget about it until I have to pay it each month. I mean, I budget and shit so I’m never short, not yet at least, but at the same time...it’s nice pretending I don’t know that number,” Aten chuckled, and reached for the towel.

“Let me,” Ahk swatted away his hand, moving the waistband of Aten’s sweatpants so he could clean him. “You sit there and rest.”

“Tired of resting.”

“You’ve been sick what, one day? And you’re sick of resting already?” he teased as he used the same towel to clean himself, enjoying the way Aten’s eyes trailed down as he slipped his sweatpants nearly off his hips.

“Sick of being sick, sick of resting. And we should change, pants at least, or we’ll both feel gross in the morning. Fourth drawer has all my lazy clothes in it.”

The hamper for towels was set right by the hamper for clothes, just before the door of the bedroom, and Ahk tossed the towel in before searching the drawer.

“Oh...my darling,” he giggled as he pulled one of the few Ahkmenrah-branded items from the drawer. A pair of sweatpants bearing a tablet pattern, to be specific. “This is adorable.”

“Hey, they said that money from the sale of those goes to maintaining your exhibit. I couldn’t not get them,” Aten replied. “And I bet you’d look cute in them.”

He changed with a smirk while Aten watched, then tossed a pair of clean grey sweatpants over to him.

The dirty ones didn’t quite make it to the hamper, but neither of them cared. He actually felt tired, of all things, and it was all the more wonderful a feeling because it came with falling asleep beside Aten, in the dark of his tiny bedroom.

He hadn’t even thought of tomorrow’s plans, and he didn’t want to. It might come too soon then, and before he knew it he’d have to be back at the museum.

For now, it was just them, the dark, and the softness and warmth of the sheets and comforter, as he slept, truly slept, for the first time in thousands of years.

#text post #LeeH writes #NATM fic #ahkmenrah fic #ahkmenrah x oc

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

Yours Truly [Part Seven]

Summary: Fourth of July is a family affair on the Pratt farm; something new sparks between Chris and Sadie. Pairing: Chris Pratt x OFC, Chris Evans x OFC Word Count: 1775 Warnings: Mentions of divorce and abandonment. A/N: This fic was previously posted on my multi-fandom account; in honor of OC Appreciation Day, I figured I would queue it all up for your reading pleasure throughout the day! This was a collab with @captain-s-rogers , and I will link her chapters at the end of all of my posts! Some GIFs were difficult to find again, so if there’s no credit, they’re from Google Image Search or from the original post.

July 4

Caroline,

Happy Fourth of July! Honestly, I don’t know who’s more excited for fireworks, me or Layla!

I’m including the pictures from the birthday party with this letter. We had so much fun! Layla said it was her best birthday ever, and that’s all I need to know. Her friends seemed to enjoy it, too, and Chris and his parents were happy with everything, so that’s good, too.

Chris’s parents are super nice, but they want to take Layla for the rest of the summer. Chris told them no, that he didn’t want to be away from Layla, and he doesn’t want Layla to be taken away from me. In light of some other things that were said, he’s going to talk with me later about what happened exactly between him and his ex-wife, while Kathleen and Daniel take Layla into town for a few things for the barbecue later on. They’re all at breakfast right now – I was invited to go, but I think some family time might be better for them.

We watched Chris’s rally last night, and I actually saw you! Looking powerful and professional as always. You’re rocking this job, C, I just know it. I’m hoping there are some more details in your next letters that come about what’s going on with you and your boss. (I’m a horrible influence, I know.)

There are more things I want to tell you, but I just can’t get them onto paper. Telling you always makes things real, and I want them to be real but they still seem so overwhelming to put on paper – maybe it’s time for a phone call? Miss you much, bestie!

Yours truly,

Sadie

After addressing, sealing, and stamping the envelope with the letter and pictures in it, Sadie left it in Kathleen’s trusted care to take into town and drop off for her. The post office would be closed, but the big blue box was always open.

Once Layla was gone with her grandparents, Sadie set to work in the kitchen preparing food for the mid-afternoon cook-out. Chris helped her by slicing up some vegetables for a tray while they talked.

“How was breakfast with your parents?” she asked.

“It was good, and much needed, like you said. Not that I’m happy admitting you were right,” he teased.

Sadie laughed lightly. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Hopefully you’re not upset, but I agreed to let Layla go up to Minnesota with them for a week when they head back. I’ll fly up the last couple of days to visit and bring Layla back with me.”

“Why would I be upset?” Sadie frowned. “She’s not my daughter, Chris, she’s yours. They’re her grandparents. Even if you had decided to send her up there for the rest of the summer, I would have been disappointed but not mad. It’s not my choice to make.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, piling a handful of celery sticks onto the tray. “I guess we could go ahead and talk about Emily.”

“Only if you want to.”

He let out a deep breath, deciding where to begin, exactly. “She left almost a year ago. Layla had just turned four, and I could tell Emily was getting restless. She wouldn’t talk to me about what was wrong, just grew more and more distant. Finally, one day, she told me she had met someone else and she was leaving. I told her,” he took another deep breath, “I told her that I wasn’t going to allow her to take Layla, to which Emily replied that she hadn’t planned on taking her.”

Sadie’s eyes grew wide. “I’m not saying that leaving you is any better, but how could she leave her own daughter behind? And willingly, at that.”

“Emily didn’t want kids when we started dating. By the time we were married, she had changed her mind without any convincing from me, and when she got pregnant with Layla, we were both ecstatic. It didn’t take long for her to remember why she didn’t want kids, I guess.”

Sadie’s eyes welled with tears; her heart broke all over again for both Chris and Layla. She tried to stop the tears, but it was to no avail.

“Hey, don’t cry, Adie,” Chris said, using Layla’s name for her as a means to cheer her up. He set down the knife and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. “We turned out all right. We got you.”

“I know,” Sadie sniffled, “and I know it’s not about me. It just makes me so angry and so sad. You and Layla both deserve so much better.”

“You have a big heart,” Chris said, running his hand up and down her arm. “That’s what makes you so special to us.”

Sadie leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m not going to save you deviled eggs just because you’re flattering me, you know.”

Chris laughed and went back to the vegetables. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Sadie laughed, too, and dried her tears. “Change of subject, but I might like to stick around while Layla’s gone, if that’s okay. Look for some jobs in the area.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re welcome to – hey, if you find one close to here, you’ll be around for harvest.”

“Come to think of it, what do you farm? I mean, I’ve been here for a month now, and I assumed it was wheat, but we’ve never actually talked about it.”

“Sunflowers,” Chris smiled, blushing a little.

Excitement beamed bright across Sadie’s features. “I love sunflowers!”

“Well, you’ll have to at least come around during harvest. I’ll make sure you get some good flowers.”

Their conversation flowed easily after that, with witty banter and flirty teasing. By the time Layla, Kathleen, and Daniel returned, it was as though they were old friends, comfortable and familiar.

The air smelled of bug spray and firecrackers by the time night fell. They were all full on hamburgers, hot dogs, and a variety of fruits and veggies – not to mention the desserts that Kathleen and Sadie had baked.

Layla had frosting smeared across her face, and her hands were sticky from a slice of watermelon. When they all set out lawn chairs to watch the fireworks the neighbors down the road were shooting off, she crawled onto her father’s lap and leaned her head against his chest. She was asleep before the fireworks even started.

“She had a long day,” Sadie commented.

Chris nodded, kissing the top of Layla’s head. “That she did, and I don’t think she was fully re-energized from her birthday.”

“I think you’re right.” She leaned her head back and sighed, watching Layla sleep. “I’m going to miss her next week. I haven’t been here that long, but it seems like it’s been forever.”

“Yeah, it does,” Chris said.

Sadie studied him for moment before turning back to the fireworks. There was a note of relief in his comment, and Sadie couldn’t help but feel encouraged for it. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was feeling something more than what would normally be considered professional or even friendly when it came to the relationship with Chris.

She was in the midst of accepting that these feelings were actually happening when Chris confirmed that she was, in fact, not the only one feeling that way: he reached over and slipped his fingers through hers. Sadie tried not to smile too big, squeezing his hand a little in acknowledgement of the gesture.

The next morning, Sadie’s heart was still on a high from the night before. Holding hands with Chris while the fireworks exploded over them wasn’t something that she had expected to happen, especially within seconds of coming to terms with her own developing feelings.

She hummed all the way through making pancakes for breakfast, cleaning up the patio from the Fourth of July celebration, and doing the dishes that had been abandoned the night before. She smiled to herself through the laundry and through Layla’s counting lesson. By the time lunch rolled around, she was more than a little excited to see Chris come in from his outdoor work with Daniel that morning.

Chris, it seemed, was just as excited at the prospect of something new as Sadie felt. The two of them shared blushing glances and secret smiles all throughout lunch. They didn’t say much to each other, but he did wink at her on his way through the back slider when he returned to the fields.

After lunch, Kathleen laid down for a nap, and Sadie set about getting Layla packed for her trip.

“If I’m not leavin’ till tomorrow, why do I have to pack my clothes now?” Layla groaned, leaning on the edge of the mattress.

“First of all,” Sadie smiled, “I am packing your clothes, not you, little miss. Second of all, it’s good to be prepared.”

“It’s not ‘cause you want me to go away?”

Sadie zipped up Layla’s bag and sat on the bed, pulling Layla into her lap. “I never want you to go away, Layla, but I can’t keep you here all the time, either. That’s selfish.”

“You promise you’ll be here when I come back?”

“Of course! Me and Daddy are going to be so bored with you gone!”

Layla grew quiet and pensive, so Sadie set her back on the floor and double-checked around the room that she had packed everything.

“Are you taking your monkey or your goose to Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“Goose,” Layla answered definitively. The pensive look returned to Layla’s countenance, but this time she verbalized her thoughts. “Sadie, are you gonna kiss Daddy?”

Sadie turned to Layla with her brow raised. “Kiss Daddy?”

Layla nodded, excited now that the subject was out in the open. “Yes! He was so sad when Mama left, but he’s happy now! And he says you’re a blessing, to both of us. And I know you was holding hands last night.”

“Oh, Layla …”

The little girl took Sadie’s hands. “It’s okay with me!”

“Oh, it is?” Sadie chuckled. “Can you keep a secret, sweetheart?”

Layla nodded. “Yes. Is it about Daddy?”

Sadie nodded, too, and crouched down in front of her. “And about you. I wasn’t sad before I came here, but I was kinda lonely. And I’m not, now that I’m here with you and Daddy.”

Layla flung her little body into Sadie’s hug. “That’s why you have to stay forever!”

Sadie hugged Layla tightly, not saying anything, but thinking, if only for that moment, she would be fine staying there forever with Chris and Layla.

Part Eight

#chris pratt #chris evans #fanfiction #oc appreciation day 2020 #new to this blog

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saintedfury · 5 years

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A Saintly Muse | IC Drabble

Summary: Devin comes to the rescue.

a/n: @ashandnovels posted a request for smut to her inbox, so I decided to try and deliver.

A Saintly Muse

Devin, any chance you’d be free to do me a massive favor?

Furia tapped the message into her phone and waited. She wasn’t the only one trying to solve the issue, but she might be the most certain that someone would respond affirmatively.

[SMS] Always.

The reply, as well as the speed with which he sent it, made her grin.

You’re a saint.

[SMS] You just figuring that out?

She texted him the address. “I’ve got someone on their way,” she announced to the room full of artists. A sigh of relief rolled through the open airy space. She realized that perhaps she should have mentioned the what of the favor she was asking.

No. But it’s definitely more than just the purple.

I hope you’re good with having a lot of people staring at you.

[SMS] And what did I just volunteer for?

I found a figure drawing class. We need a model. Ours had an emergency come up.

[SMS] Sounds relatively painless.

Sí. Though you might catch a chill. Furia grinned at her phone. But I swear I’ll warm you up after if that happens.

[SMS] You never mentioned compensation.

You know me. I take care of my friends.

[SMS] Be there in ten.

She slipped her phone in her pocket. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Going to wait for him downstairs.” Her announcement received a few affirmative nods and relieved looks. Several phones were put away and people went back to unpacking their supplies. Others went to setting up the dais in the center of the room.

Once outside, she pulled the collar of her coat up a bit, to help fight off a bit of the chill in the icy weather. Slush was everywhere, and every car that neared announced it presence with a mushy, wet sound. It just made her feel the cold even more. Fat, wet flakes fell and stuck to everything. Furia could even feel a few of them melting in her hair, turning to cold drops that slipped down to her scalp until she couldn’t feel them anymore. Letting her head tip back, she watched the dark swirling clouds move over head. They looked far more ominous than the chunky flurries that fluttered about the downtown street on a crisp breeze.

“Getting your fill of snow?” an amused voice called out.

Furia turned and smiled at Devin. “Something like that.” She pulled herself away from the wall and greeted him into a hug. Stretching up on her toes, she kissed him softly. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It could be interesting.”

She grinned at him, but didn’t let him go quite yet. “I’m sure I can talk them in to letting you leave the sunglasses on, too.” Her laughter widened her smile.

Devin went straight for the ribs, earning a squeak, but also freeing himself from her embrace.

“Troublemaker,” she scolded. Her hand found his. “Come on. The studio’s upstairs.”

Whatever it was about elevators, they were still a thing for her, because once the door closed, she inched back into Devin’s personal space. He didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, his arms draped around her, encouraging her to move even closer. The kisses that followed began playfully enough, but swiftly deepened. When the car chimed the arrival at their floor, they were both a little flushed and perhaps eager to shed their coats.

Furia let him enter the studio first, then grabbed onto the collar of his jacket from behind to help him out of it. She hung his coat over hers near the door.

Nearly twenty heads turned with their arrival, all of them zeroing in on Devin with measured and inspecting glances. There were some nods, a few raised eyebrows, and more than a few blushing smiles from the men and women gathered for the session.

“Devin, everybody. Everybody, this is Devin. He volunteered to fill in for Bartholomew.”

A chorus of welcomes, thanks, and other assorted sentiments followed.

“I’ll show you where you can change,” Furia offered, slipping her hand around his elbow and giving it a little tug.

“This is a bigger class than I expected,” he said over her shoulder.

“The classes are free. So, they end up drawing a bigger crowd.” She kept her voice low, as if they had suddenly stepped into a library, though she couldn’t determine why.

They could only walk single-file down the hallway, it was dark and barely wide enough to accommodate Devin’s broad shoulders. The changing room wasn’t originally meant for that purpose, as he would probably be able to tell by the fact the closet was lined with cleaning supplies on the far wall. There was a hanging rack and a cushioned chair, but the room definitely was not designed as stripping room.

Furia led him into the room, because it was the only way she’d be able to get back out without having to shimmy herself across the width of his body. Since he was nice enough to come by and sit for them, she didn’t want to make it embarrassing for him by sending him out there all hot and bothered. Though as soon as the idea popped into her head, she kind of really wanted to do just that.

She bit her bottom lip and let him enter. “There’s a robe right here,” she said, pulling the door part way closed to show him the hook on the back of the door. “Hopefully, it will be long enough.” Her gaze moved from the pale purple robe to Devin and back a few times, before stopping on him finally.

“I’ll make due,” he assured her.

A part of her wanted to offer to help him out of his clothes, but self-control got the better of her. Though she did not leave without stealing another quick kiss. It deepened more than she’d intended, when he caught her face in his hands before she could pull away. If he wanted more, she’d acquiesce contentedly.

When it did break, she patted him on the chest. “Don’t take too long. Artists get testy when they are kept waiting,” she teased, giving him a wink.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Furia wandered back down the hall, thinking that perhaps calling someone she knew might not have been the best choice, at least not for the two of them. More than likely she was going to spend the next hour thinking about everything but her lines while ogling him. She even considered moving her spot, so that she’d be behind him. Of course, that wouldn’t help either. Then she’d just spend the entire time thinking about how she’d want to nip her way down his spine.

Get a hold of yourself. The scolding voice in the back of her head, really wasn’t all that convincing. You’re an adult. Furia chuckled at herself. She knew damn well that age wasn’t a factor in whether or not she could keep her mind focused on the art while staring at a man she knew biblically. Having been there, ridden that did not preclude her from wanting to find herself in his arms again. Hell, whenever she’d drawn anyone she slept with, having them sit for her in the buff always ended the same.

This time around it was almost completely guaranteed, since she’d set it on the table with the invitation. She hadn’t cleared up the argument in her head by the time Devin peeked around the threshold of the door.

Furia held out a hand and gestured to the dais draped in warm looking blankets and pillows in a muted gray. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said with a playful smirk. When he neared his pedestal for the afternoon, she tugged at the collar of her dress to remind him he needed to leave the robe behind.

“Of course,” he replied in a delicately amused way that suggested he might not be wholly comfortable with the idea. Even so, Devin made a show of it; one that enraptured Furia and several others. His hand moved slow as he tugged the tie loose. When his robe shifted open, her tongue peeked out over her bottom lip.

It wasn’t her that gasped when he flicked the fabric over his shoulders and let it slide down his arms and to the ground with a flutter, but she understood the sentiment. Devin was a beautiful man, dressed and not. He was definitely a subject apt to be captured from every angle in a mix of mediums, which he would be today. She bit her bottom lip, appreciating the way he draped his long frame across the little stage set out for him.

All she could think of was that line from that movie: draw me like one of your French girls.

“Comfy?” she asked once he seemed to have found a spot that worked for him. “You’re going to have to be still for a while, so find a position that works for you.”

He nodded and shifted around until he was hunkered down against the pillows that seemed to be bearing him aloft like a cloud. His smile, though, was anything but angelic. “This work for everybody?”

He received a myriad of hummed and more coherent positive responses.

“Just remember to be still,” a gruff voice from the back of the room called.

“Got it,” Devin replied.

“Do you have any ear buds for music or something?” Furia asked as if she’d only just remembered how boring sitting could be. She couldn’t listen to music when she did it; she always moved with the beat no matter how hard she tried. “I’ve also got audio books,” she added.

“Let’s go with that.”

Furia set her sketch pad aside and dug through the bag at her feet. The headphones would automatically sync with her phone when she took them out of the case and handed them over. “Any particular genre?”

“Surprise me.”

Devin might regret that choice. A cheeky smile spread across her lips and she bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t resist toying with him just a little. Shaundi had found the hottest read recently and Furia thought this would be the perfect time to share it with Devin.

Once he nestled the little devices in his ears, she started the book for him on the first chapter, skipping the title or the introductory information. It would begin calm enough with delicious, rich language teasing and stretching his mind into a thoughtful location before veering it toward something more lush and surprising.

Furia sat back again and resettled herself. Pulling the book back onto her lap, she tapped the end of a charcoal pencil against her bottom teeth as her thorough study of him bordered on freely ogling. Her hazel eyes moved from the tips of his toes to the sunglasses perched atop his head; she took in every inch of him in a new way. While she’d made lengthy appreciations of his body before, she’d never noticed that bulging curve of muscle at the top of his knee or the way the accent of his abs curved toward at the bottom of his ribs like a tiny little smile-shaped dimple. His gaze was direct, focused on her she realized when her eyes met his. She couldn’t help the smile that shifted across her lips, there might have also been a trace of a blush on her cheeks at him having caught her studying him—even though that was the entire reason he was there.

He flashed her a quick wink. Furia couldn’t help but wonder if the way he had his hips shifted might just prove uncomfortable and leave him with a cramp. His attention proved as focused as everyone else in the room, though Devin stared at her and they all stared at him.

The pink on her cheeks probably deepened a few shades, if the warmth of her face was any indication. She bit her bottom lip as she finally set the tip of charcoal pencil to her paper lightly. It was intense, yet somewhat unnerving to find him looking at her every time she glanced up.

Swallowing at a nervous lump in her throat, she straightened her long legs out in front of her. Gravity played along, letting the fabric drag down toward the floor, baring them to the high mid thigh due to the extreme slit in the loose skirt.

Noticing the shift in his gaze, she decided that two could definitely play this game. There was nothing innocent or accidental in the way she shifted her legs against one another, how she crossed and uncrossed them, or the trail that the end of her pencil drew over her decolletage as she studied him time and again. All the while, he just laid there like the undeterred specimen of loveliness that he was, allowing himself to be captured in every inch of his glory by a dozen and a half strangers.

The hours flew by with minimal progress on her sketch. Furia usually didn’t have this problem, of course, it wasn’t every studio sitting that she had the subject staring at her like he’d seen her naked, or might be remembering her that way.

As the time moved toward a close, some artists packed up and left. Others lingered after gathering their materials to finish up. When the time was called by the studio manager, Devin was allowed to finally move. When he sat up, Devin discovered why Furia had offered the exchange she had. Clearly, by the way his motions slowed, his muscles were likely screaming. Furia knew the sensation; she’d sat once or twice herself and it had been murder each time.

“Doing all right, Osito?” she asked. Furia was in no rush to pack up. “A little stiff?”

“You didn’t warn me about that,” he countered.

She grinned at him. “Sorry about that. I was more worried you’d balk at lounging about in your birthday suit in front of a room full of strangers. Didn’t even think about the downside of being completely still for a few hours.”

By the time, he got to his feet and pulled his robe on they were almost alone. A few artists lingered, as did the studio manager, who was leaning in the doorway.

“I can lock up for you, Ray,” Furia offered, closing her book and setting it on the low chair she’d claimed before the plans of the day included another boss.

“Appreciate that.” He turned almost instantly and headed for the door.

“The running joke is that Ray has a second life that he runs off to after every studio,” she told Devin, explaining the reason the man so easily abandoned them there. “Some of them are convinced he’s a hit man or some kind of crime boss.” Clearly the idea amused her, if her smile were any judge.

“And here I was thinking you were just trying to get me alone in order to take advantage of me,” Devin said with a hint of a pout.

“Oops, you found me out,” she purred, strolling toward him with her hands clasped innocently behind her back.

“Did I?” His hands found her waist and pulled her close. She hummed against his lips when he kissed her. “Is there another class any time soon?” Apparently, he was good with the prospect.

Furia shook her head. “Nope. Not until tomorrow at 9 in the morning.”

He just hummed in reply as she ran her hands up his bare arms.

“So, I could keep you here all night long as my own private muse.”

“Oh, well if that’s what the art requires, how could I stand in the way?” He was so close, she could feel the shift of every word against her lips, but he just held the scantest bit of distance.

“You are so damn adorable,” she chuckled, pulling gently at the back of his neck to get his lips on hers.

His arms pulled tight around her as her fingers buried in the hair at the back of his head. Furia melted into his embrace, her body molding against the warmth of his. She could lose herself in this, his touch, his kiss, but maybe not until she locked the door. At least she realized it before someone just wandered into the studio.

Breaking the kiss, she relaxed her hold on him. “If we’re staying, I should probably lock up. Sitting for a crowd is one thing.”

A little grumble hung in his throat. He’d been lying naked thinking about having her legs wrapped around him for hours. What would another minute hurt? “Hurry back.”

She stretched up and pecked him before slipping out of his arms. “You know it.”

“Can I peek?” he called over his shoulder, noticing her sketchbook.

She stopped and spun in place. “Um. Maybe later,” she said, not sure there would be a later. She felt a bit weird denying his curiosity, but she was trying something new, something she wasn’t quite confident in. Besides, she hadn’t finished him yet, which is surely what he wanted to see. Confident he wouldn’t sneak a peek, she turned back to handle the door. At a jog, she rushed back into the studio to find that Devin had laid himself out on the dais again like an angel resting on stormy cloud.

With a grin, she admired him, then opted to even the playing field. Gathering her dress up in her hands, she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor near the robe he’d worn into that room. Her eyes didn’t leave his, except to place soft kisses near his ankle, then another on his shin. She nipped at the inside of his knee as she crawled toward him with a slow, measured pace dripping with intent. Devin sat up and took her face in his hands, bringing her lips back to his again for a kiss.

Furia moved to his insistence, letting him lead. She pressed against him when he pulled her down with him. Held him close when he rolled them over. His lips trailed down her neck, then traced a line that could have followed the neckline of her dress if she’d still been wearing it. It felt like the same path she’d traced multiple times that evening already, only softer and interspersed with sharp nips that left her cooing.

“Thought about doing that for the last hour. You and that damnable pencil,” he scolded. His fingers teased behind her back, making quick work of the clasp. He leaned over her and slid the straps of her bra over her arms. His fingertips grazed her skin with a hint of reverence, an artist in his own right appreciating his subject. His eyes moved over her hotly and all she could think of was feeling his mouth on her body again.

“Devin,” she sighed. There was a trace of wanton need in her tone, which she didn’t even try to disguise. Her fingers threaded through the hair just above his ears.

Perhaps because he heard the plea in her voice, or just because he couldn’t resist the allure of her bare skin, Devin blazed his own new trail along the curvy swell of her breast. His hand skimmed her ribs, cupping and squeezing her breast as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple. The pressure of that gentle suck, the flicker of his tongue, then the graze of his teeth just intensified the wantonness she’d been tending the entire session while he’d been laying there in front of her on display.

She buried her hands in his hair, more in encouragement and a desire to anchor herself in that sensation. “I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on since you walked out here,” she admitted

“That explains why you kept inching your skirt higher and higher,” he countered. The flat of his tongue pressed over her flesh.

“I was hoping you’d notice.”

He straightened against her, the heat of his body searing against her skin. His kiss demanded her full attention. “How could I not?” He brushed her hair away from her face, cradling her head and teasing his tongue into her mouth.

Furia had no answer to that question, save to keep kissing him. Her leg slipped over his hip and she shifted against him. He’d managed his self control for the last hour, and now with the studio emptied and the door locked, Devin had abandoned every single shred of it. He grabbed her ass and pressed hard against her, wrenching a low moan from her. She moved in tandem with him, until he broke the kiss.

With a bit of a rush, his mouth teased down her body. Anticipation coursed through her with every spot he kissed or tugged at with his teeth. He knelt between her legs, his hands tugging at the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips, then raised her legs to help him strip away that final barrier between them. He caught one of her legs, and rested it against his chest. Soft wet kisses pressed against her ankle, along the length of her calf. He concentrated on her knee longer than she thought absolutely necessary, but his attentions were enticing.

She leaned back and allowed him the chance to tease her. As he crept along the length of her thigh, she let a hand sweep over her own skin. In its own way, it was another taunt targeted at him. Teasing her nipple to a taut peak earned her a sharp bite to the inner thigh, which prompted a vocal keen. It was the most delightful kind of oneupmanship. When he reached the apex of her thighs, her nails skimmed over her ribs, leaving pink trails in their wake.

Soft kisses quickened her breath and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he hovered there, teasing her with every breath and the promise of his proximity. A smile played across his lips, then he planted a gentle kiss right over her clit. She couldn’t help but shudder. That first gentle touch opened a flood gate of sensation. He touched her softly, languid licks and little pecks. The more vocally she responded, the more adamant and pressing his attentions became. She came with his fingers curled inside her and his lips wrapped around that engorged bundle of nerves that exploded in a flood of sensation; her hips moved of their own accord riding out a wave of pleasure against his tongue as he worked her over her peak.

A growling satisfied chuckle crept along her belly, paired with kisses. His hand did not abandon her body until she pulled his mouth back to hers wordlessly.

He settled himself between her legs, and despite the lingering softness in her limbs, she draped one leg over him and pressed her body against the length of his hard cock. Sated, yes. Desperate for more, also, yes.

“You know,” she laughed, when his lips were on her neck again. “I thought I’d at least get you home first.”

“Your mistake.” He leaned over her. “Over estimating my ability to resist you.”

Furia shook her head, she didn’t believe the claim, or maybe she just couldn’t. When she moved beneath him, he moved with her. “And it had nothing to do with the fact that almost everyone in this room was gawking at you.” He let her get him onto his back and she settled herself on his hips. With a slow shift, her body teased his arousal and with a little circle, she pressed her clit against the head of his cock. “I’m pretty sure your fan base might have grown this evening.”

“That’s not the only thing,” his hips rose playfully.

“I’m aware.” She abandoned him for a scant moment, stretching to the edge of the dais for her bag. Her own capacity for teasing, shortened considerably when he looked at her with that dark frenzy. “Guess we should address that, sí?” Sitting atop him again, she pressed more of her body against his.

For now, the condom stayed in her hand. She leaned over and kissed him hard. Her body hitched against his with a sense of desperation. She wanted him, wanted to feel him inside her, but she continued to deny them both.

His hand tightened in the hair at the base of her neck and he pulled her mouth away from his. His breathing was fast and deep when he pressed her forehead to his. “Fuck, Furia,” he growled, finding her gaze beneath the curtain of her dark waves.

“We’re getting there,” she teased with a laugh.

“I want you.”

She rolled her hips in a very deliberate motion. “I know.”

“Fuck me.”

Her lips found his again, and she gave in. Shifting enough to get her hands between them, she worked quickly to roll the condom down the length of him. She never broke the kiss, working blind. Lining him up, Furia sank down on him. The snap of his hips broke her slow, teasing motion and stole her breath. Clearly, he could only handle so much taunting, but she could not complain—Devin felt divine.

When his hips shifted downward, she moved in tandem, rising to make the inevitable meeting of their bodies all the more dramatic for both of them. Once she sat upward to show off her body for him, Devin’s hands held her thighs so tight she knew there’d be sweet bruises there in the morning to remind her of the pleasure they stole together that night. They’d be a tempting reminder of him, of how he made her feel, and what they’d shared.

She pressed her hands to his chest, which gave her the leverage to dramatically curve her body into every upward thrust of his hips. “Dios, Devin,” she growled. The way they moved pushed her closer, her hips pressing and grinding against his, chasing a fleeting tenuous sensation that would explode into uncontrollable convulsions of pleasure. Inching closer and closer, he seemed to sense it, or maybe he could just feel the tightening in her body. His hands moved over her skin in soft touches, sharp scratches, biting pinches. Then finally one hand clasped over her breast, massaging. When he teased at her aching nipples, the spark shattered with a silent scream brought the near constant wail of her moans.

The sporadic movement of her hips, the twitching of the muscles in her thighs, all belied the orgasm that shook through her. Furia collapsed against his chest, his arms encircling her immediately. His mouth found hers, and he fucked her though the irregular motions of her aftershocks. All the while, she moaned and whimpered against his lips, kissing him with frenzied abandon. Once a relaxed sense of control returned to her body, Devin rolled them over again.

Leaving a trail of kisses down her neck as he put a bit of distance between them once more. The angle he found, threatened to pull her apart again. Greedily, one of her hands scratched down his torso and found its way to her clit. Devin smirked at her, pulling one leg over his shoulder, which only made his stroke that much more pointed and seemed to direct every stroke against that searing spot inside her that throbbed. She knew she’d come again, maybe even before him.

Her eyes never broke his gaze. All flushed with a sheen of sweat glistening in the kind, soft light of the studio, he was as beautiful as ever. He felt even better. His lips pressed to her ankle, then nipped at the bony protrusion there.

“Oh, damn,” he growled when he felt it. The quiver that started around his cock, then spread through the rest of her like a Furia-sized earthquake. Their moans mingled in that open space, reverberating back to them. Her leg slipped down his arm as he leaned over her, thrusting harder and deeper with his own release, as if he could somehow fuck her right through the dais with enough determination. She clutched at his shoulders, keening incoherently.

He slowed, eventually stilling inside her. His body relaxed against hers, as their lips met again. This time the kisses were languid, decadent. She savored every lick, every taste of his mouth. Her fingers threaded through his hair as they laid there, still joined, at least for the moment. The heft of his cock inside her shifted as he softened.

There was a hint of reluctance, when his hand slipped between them and their bodies peeled apart. Both of them whimpered at the sudden, regrettable distance. Furia didn’t move at first, she just watched him sit up, then walk across the room and back. When he reached the dais again, she stood on the step, which almost evened out their height difference, and kissed him long and deep. He held her gently in his arms, touching her naked body lazily. She knew it wouldn’t take much for him to stir her up again, but she thought it might be best if that not happen here.

“Are you hungry?” she whispered against his lips.

He broke the kiss moments later to reply. “I could eat.”

The way he said it made her giggle. “Bet you could.”

His tongue flicked against her lips.

“How about I feed you, then you can have another helping of dessert?”

His arms tightened around her waist, and he lifted her off her feet. Moving her away from the dais, he set her on the ground not far from where some of her underwear had ended up. “Sounds like a plan. Your place, then?”

“Yeah. You can drive,” she said, wearing a telling smirk.

“No, not this time,” Devin chuckled. “Tonight we’ll have to see how you drive with my hand knuckles-deep.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she taunted, slipping out of his grip to dress.

He pinched her on the rear, earning chirrup and a little hop away.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she warned.

“Never,” Devin promised.

#IC Drabbles #A Saintly Muse #Badger Scribbles #ashandnovels #Beware Smut ahead

4 notes · View notes

she-is-tim · 5 years

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I love hating you | Elu enemies to lovers AU | Ch. 4

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Lucas is an angry, closeted and frustrated gay teenager, while Eliott is the handsome, smart and popular guy in school. They hate each other… but not forever.

I don’t think I deserve this

Saturday morning was cloudy and cold, but Lucas couldn’t be happier. He started the day by doing his chores that was listed on their chalkboard Mika hanged in the living room. They kept switching the tasks, so no one gets bored of it. Later the day he joined Lisa on the couch, she was watching some weird documentary, but Lucas couldn’t care less, he was on his phone basically all afternoon, chatting with Eliott. Thankfully Mika was working, so he wasn’t asking questions about his happy behavior.

srodulv Idriss and Sofiane keep trying to peek over when I’m texting you They are being annoying

lucallemant I kinda get them, you should be focused on studying, not texting me Not like I want you to leave

srodulv You would be missing me, and I can’t stand a sad hedgehog

lucallemant Too much confidence you got there, Demaury

srodulv I think I have good reasons to be sure about some things ;)

lucallemant How do you know the boys, btw? Idriss is older than us for sure

srodulv I am older than you too I had to repeat first year of high school

lucallemant What? I had no idea

srodulv Things happened in my life, so... It’s not important, but I was going to their school in first year But we are friends since middle school

lucallemant Well, at least now we’re in the same year

srodulv Haha That’s true Okay, I gotta go now, these two are driving me crazy

lucallemant You can do it! Saturday is almost over

srodulv And I’m missing you so damn much

lucallemant Stop being so cheesy We spent hours together yesterday

srodulv It’s never enough time with you

lucallemant G O T O S T U D Y E L I O T T

srodulv Yes, ma’am

Lucas smirked at his phone for a few more minutes and put it in his pocket after Eliott didn’t say anything else. He loved to talk to him all day long, but he was with friends and he had to study too, so he couldn’t be selfish, asking him to keep texting. He might not be the smartest kid in school, but he knew that Eliott didn't do much studying all day, since he kept replying to him within seconds.

Monday came way too slow, Lucas spent his sunday with studying and doing homework. He wasn’t on his phone much, but Eliott was also busy, so it wasn’t a big deal. In the morning he packed up his bag and left for school with Manon. They were planning to meet up in the common room before classes, just to chill and eat breakfast. The girl spent almost an hour in the kitchen this morning to make sandwiches for them, she was carrying it in a basket, while Lucas had two bottles of soda in his hands.

“Seriously, Manon, It’s just monday, why are we having an indoor picnic?” He asked, his hands were numb from holding the bottles.

“We are halfway done with the common room, this is a little celebration.” she said excitedly and walked into the room, holding the door open for the boy.

They joined the others at the table, it seemed like they had some serious topic to talk about. Lucas put down the bottles and went to the shelves to get plastic cups for everyone. Meanwhile Manon put down paper plates and the basket full of sandwiches. The girls seemed to be really happy and continued their talk while eating. Lucas sat down next to Manon, chewing on a sandwich. Since friday he could only think about Eliott. He kept seeing him when he closed his eyes, he could clearly remember his smell and the feeling of his fingers on his skin.

When his phone started buzzing, he felt his heart beating faster. Eliott haven’t texted him since sunday and he missed him so much. He was right back then, Lucas was one really sad hedgehog without him. All those feelings he had for this boy were overwhelming. He unlocked his phone, checking the message he got, but it wasn’t from Eliott, it was his mother.

From Mom For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgment; [2 Peter 2:4]

Lucas took a deep breath and inhaled slowly. The girls were too busy talking about some sports event that will be on this friday, so they didn’t notice his reaction. He haven’t recieved a bible verse from his mom since a while now, it usually meant that she is doing bad. He knew that the nurse his father was paying took good care of his mother, but it was still frustrating to think about her feeling bad. He also haven’t seen her since months. Son of the year, clearly.

He excused himself and walked out of the common room. Students were already walking on the halls, so he decided to go to the bathroom and tried to call his mother. He spent there 10 minutes, but she wasn’t answering. Lucas got really worried now. He quickly looked for the number of his mom’s nurse and called her. He was walking around in the bathroom until she picked it up.

“Hello?” her voice was soft, calm. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong.

“Good morning! I am Lucas Lallemant, I wanted to ask about my mom.” he explained, talking a bit too fast, but hoped that the lady understood his words.

“Oh, Lucas! I haven’t heard from you in a while.” she said softly, this was still not convincing the boy that things were okay. “Your mother is reading right now, we just had breakfast and she took her medications. But why is the sudden call?”

“Nothing...” Lucas mumbled, feeling bad because panicing over such little stuff, but also because he haven’t met his mother in a while now. “Nothing, I just wanted to know if I can visit her after school.”

“That is a wonderful idea, I think she would like that. She’s feeling much better lately, we talk a lot and she told me a lot of stories about you.” she answered softly, which made Lucas’ heart feel warm. Knowing that his mother was able to talk and tell stories of his childhood meant that she was really doing better.

“That’s great, I’ll go there around 17:00 after classes.”

“We will be waiting.”

“See you then.” he said and hung up, letting out a relieved sigh.

He leant to the wall next to the bathroom stalls and looked out the window. Everyone was slowly coming inside from the yard as their classes were about to start. He was looking for one face, one messy hair in the crowd, but he couldn’t find him. Eliott might have already gone to his class. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Stop thinking of him, Lucas.

He walked out of the restroom now, ready to start his day. On his way to the lockers, he met Imane, she seemed to be looking for someone. Lucas stepped to her, smiling softly. Imane was a great friend for him and they always studied together for biology. She was sassy and confident, almost the exact opposite of Lucas.

“Hey! Are you looking for someone?” he asked softly. The girl looked at him, a small smile playing on her face. Okay, this seems suspicious.

“Yeah, I was looking for you actually.” she said and handed him a carefully folded paper. “My brother gave this to me. Eliott asked him to get this to you.” she explained with now a wide smirk. Lucas felt his face burning, stomach turning. He couldn’t find the right words to say both because he didn’t wanted Imane to suspect anything and because he was deeply worried why was Eliott sending him a letter, not a message.

“It’s not what...”

“Don’t bother.” she said raising her hands. “It’s not my business, I just didn’t know that you are friends with Eliott now.” she said crossing her arms, looking curious. “I mean you were talking shit about him like a month ago.”

“We were just assigned for a school project.” he mumbled, lies coming out of his mouth without thinking about it. It was so natural for him to cover things in his life to make situations easier. “It’s probably just a note I left at his place.” he shrugged, trying to play cool.

“Okay then, I was just asking.” she said.

“Why didn’t you gave it to me earlier?” Lucas asked now curiously. They were all in the common room, she could have handed it to him there so she wouldn’t need to look for him.

“I figured it’s something that the girls shouldn’t know.” she said seriously. “I mean... Daphné is still a bit gone for that guy, they wouldn’t let you breathe if they would know that you are close with Eliott.” she said.

“And you also don’t wanna let them know that your brother and him are friends, right?” the boy asked now with a half smirk, while Imane rolled her eyes. “I totally understand. Say thank you to Idriss for me.” he said and walked to his locker now.

He slowly unfolded the paper, it was a drawing and a note under it, well actually two drawings. One of them was a sad hedgehog, looking at his black phone screen, the other one was a sad raccoon with a suitcase in his hand, waiting at the train station. Lucas felt his stomach turning, looking at the letters under the drawings, slowly reading the sentences.

“Dear Lucas

I am so sorry I haven’t texted you for a whole day, but something happened with my family and I had to leave Paris. Hopefully I won’t be away for long, but I am not gonna be able to use my phone. I’ll let you know when I get back. Damn, I wish I could have say goodbye to you in person, but I really had to leave quickly, I barely had time to make this letter, but I feel like this is what you deserve. Don’t worry too much, okay? I can’t stand a sad hedgehog, you know that. And maybe you can surprise me with something when I come back. I am going to miss you... I am already missing you

Sincerely A very sad raccoon”

His handwriting was beutiful, that is the first thing that got to Lucas’ mind, then he kept re-reading the sentences, trying to take in all that information. So Eliott had to leave urgently, that’s fine. He had no time to contact Lucas, which is also fine. Then he fucking decided to draw and write a letter to him. This guy was far too much into romantic stuff and Lucas was there for it. He put the paper in a safe place inside his bag, making sure he won’t lost it. He smiled as he walked to his first class. Eliott cares about me.

After his last class, he was packing his stuff from his locker into his backpack. He wanted to reach the first bus to visit his mother. He was preparing himself for that all day. His mind was filled with imagined conversations, fearing that his mother will question him for not visiting her. He was really nervous, but also excited. He wasn’t in a good relationship with his father, but he always loved his mother even when she couldn’t be the mom Lucas wanted.

As he stepped out of the building, he almost bumped into his friends. Arthur and Yann had to listen to some stupid story Basile was rambling about. He stopped speaking when they saw Lucas. The short boy smiled at them, being frustrated on the inside, because he knew he wont make it to the first bus now, not like he had to wait much for the next. He just really wanted to see his mother.

“Hey, Lulu! Haven’t seen you all day.” Yann said, pulling his friend into a quick hug. Lucas sighed, enjoying the moment of his best friends kindness.

“Yeah, I was pretty busy with classes and helping the girls in the common room.” he explained, hugging back his friend before he pulled away, Arthur gave him a fist bump.

“You were with the girls?” Basile asked with sudden enthusiasm. “Were Daphné talking about me?” his eyes were wide open, hoping for a positive answer. Lucas totally forgot that his idiot friend is now having a crush on his sweet Daphy. Of course he liked and supported Basile with all heart, but he also wanted the best for his blonde, overexcited friend, which wasn’t being Basile’s girlfriend.

“About you? No, I don’t think so.” he said honestly.

“See, Daphné doesn’t give a fuck about you, dude.” Arthur said, he was always there to tell the truth to Basile. “You gotta find yourself a girl that can appreciate you.” he said, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. The short boy smiled fondly at them, it was nice to hang out with the boys like this. He haven’t had much time to do this before because he was too afraid they will notice he’s different.

“We were actually planning to go to my place and order pizza.” Yann said now, looking at his best friend. “You should join us.”

“I would love to, but I am actually going to visit my mom.” he said softly. “I am already a bit late.”

“Oh, did something happen?” Yann asked with a worrying tone in his voice. He was always there when Lucas needed help because of his mother and the boy couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“Nothing in particular. I just haven’t seen her in a while.” he said honestly. “But you guys have fun.” He smiled and fistbumped with them, then walking to the bus stop.

The afternoon with his mom was really nice, she wasn’t lost in her thoughts like she used to. Lucas told her about school, how classes going. He was talking about the common room and how she made friends with the girl group. It was nice to tell all this to someone who had no idea about them, he noticed how much he adores the girls and their friendship. Of course his mom asked if she like liked any of the group, but he said no confidently. They are like my sisters. And his mother seemed to be satisfied with that answer and didn’t ask more questions about her son’s love life. Lucas had no idea how much he needed this mother in his life. A caring, understanding and nice person who he can tell about his days, his friends, his classes. He wished he had the strength to tell her about his sexuality... or more likely his thing with Eliott. Is there actually a thing between us, though?

It was late, almost 20:30 when he left his mom’s house, getting on the bus. He read Eliott’s letter again, staring at the drawings for long minutes. This heavy feeling in his chest didn’t wanted to go away, he was really worried and missed this handsome guy, his stupid texts, his soft words. He remembered how they almost kissed twice. He got goosebumps just by thinking about it.

Days went on so slow Lucas felt like he was suffocating. He spent most of his time with studying or helping out the girls, anything that could keep him occupied to not think of Eliott. But when the nights came, everything rushed him at once. It was killing him slowly. He felt like he’s never going to come back.

Somewhere around wednesday the boys started to talk about a party, then the girls were talking about it too, because Emma was hosting it. Lucas felt like it will be a good way to drink and forget his emotions, so of course he agreed to go with them. Since he haven’t heard from Eliott since 4 days now, all he wanted is to get drunk and not feel anything. He hoped that Arthur brings weed to the party, he was his savior all the time, even if he didn’t know that.

He tried to put on some nice clothes, dark blue jeans, grey t-shirt and a denim jacket. Usually he would just put on a hoodie or his favorite blue jacket, but he kinda wanted to look good today, no specific reason. He tried to get his hair in some sort of shape, with very less success, so he just dropped the case within ten minutes. When he was ready, he texted the boys and left the flat. Manon was already there, helping Emma all afternoon to set things up.

Lucas was on the bus, checking the group chat with the boys. They were going crazy, because Yann told them that the girl he likes accepted his invitation to the party and they probably gonna meet up tonight. The boy smiled at his phone, congratulating to his best friend. He looked out the window, he was almost at the stop that was the closes to Emma’s house, when he got a message, it wasn’t from the boys, it was an instagram DM. His heart skipped a beat, his lips were dry, his stomach turned in that few seconds when he opened the app to see the message.

srodulv I got off the train, waiting for the bus. Do you wanna meet up? I need you

Lucas was struggling for only a few seconds. Eliott was so direct, no teasing, no playing around, he straight up said he needs Lucas. He got off the bus as soon as it stopped and thankfully could catch the ride to the other direction before it left the stop. He felt so many things at once, not knowing what to think. His hands were shaking, but he had to text back to Eliott, so he won’t be thinking that he left him on read.

lucallemant On my way

He wanted to scream at the driver to go faster. He didn’t know what was going on, but Eliott wasn’t feeling good, he could tell even through text. When he got to the right place, he jumped off the bus, he didn’t see Eliott anywhere, so he checked the time. It usually takes 20-25 minutes with bus to get to the train station from this part of the city. Eliott only texted him 14 minutes ago. The waiting was pure agony, he walked in a few meter radius up and down. His hands were sweating and shaking. He jumped when his phone started buzzing, but it was only the group chat with the boys.

Arthur Hey, Lucas, you should be here by now. Where are you, dude?

Yann Is everything okay, bro?

Basile Don’t fuck this up, man! There are hot chicks!

Arthur Lulu?

Yann Can’t you just answer? I see that you read the messages

Arthur What is wrong with you?

He sighed and closed the chat for now, he couldn’t deal with his friends, not now when he was about to see Eliott. His stomach felt so tiny, he barely could breathe, he kept licking his lips, because they were so dry. He should have sit down, but he couldn’t stop his legs, if he settles, all the emotions will rush at him at once and he either cries or throw up. Not a good way to welcome his handsome... what is Eliott to him exactly? He shook his head.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he only noticed the bus when it left. He stopped his moves and looked at the boy standing in front of him, just a few meters away. Eliott put down his suitcase, he seemed exhausted, so tiny. He was hunched, pale, even more than usual. His eyes were red and the circles around them looked much darker, like he haven’t slept for days. He was looking at Lucas, hands in his pockets, like a scared animal. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but then closed it, looking down.

Lucas was feeling so many things at once. He felt joy, because he missed this boy so damn much and it was good to have him back. He was worried, since Eliott looked like he have been through hell. He also felt insecure, because he didn’t know what was going on his head. When the tall boy looked at the ground, Lucas made his decision. He looked around, making sure no one was on the streets. It was getting late, friday night and this was a really calm part of the city anyways. He then started walking, almost running, jumping on Eliott, wrapping his arms around the slim body.

Eliott was shocked first, but then he pulled his hands out of his pockets, sliding them on the short boy’s back, burying his face into his neck. Lucas stroked him gently, enjoying the smell of Eliott he missed so much. They were standing like this for long minutes, then Eliott pulled back just a little, still keeping the small one in his arms. He touched his forehead to Lucas’, looking into those deep blue eyes.

“I missed you so damn much.” he whispered, voice sounded harsh, like he haven’t drank anything for a long time. Lucas slowly put his hands on his face, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m here now. No more sad raccoon or sad hedgehog, okay?” he said softly. Deep inside he felt like Eliott needed soft, reassuring words right now.

“Okay.”

“I’ll stay with you.” he whispered, stil stroking the other one’s face.

Eliott looked at him, deep into his eyes. He looked like he was crying not too long ago and that was breaking Lucas’ heart. He couldn’t bare seeing him like this. He looked so small and volunerable now, almost like a lost raccoon. He took a deep breath, slowly reducing the distance between their lips. Eliott noticed this and closed his eyes, holding the boy closer by his waist.

Their kiss was slow at first, tasting each other, making sure it’s okay for the other to do a bit more. Then they got out of hands, tongues dancing between opened lips, hands going everywhere, not knowing where to grab. It was strong and passionate, full of deep feelings. This long time apart made them crave for the other, wanting more and more. For long minutes it was just them, no one else existed on this world. Everything around them ceased to exist, the buildings, the street, the bus stop, all of it. They were in their little bubble of happiness. Then suddenly rain started pouring, getting them wet.

They both pulled back, just a little bit to look into each other’s eyes, laugh like kids. Eliott seemed to be better now, his eyes were glowing with excitement. He gave a soft kiss on Lucas’ wet lips. Their hair was dripping, their clothes started to get soaked as the rain was going on more wildly. The tall boy grabbed his suitcase with one hand and Lucas’ wrist with the other, starting to run towards his apartment building. The small boy laughed , trying to keep up with the speed of Eliott.

The door slammed behind them loudly, Eliott let go of his suitcase, wrapping both of his arms around Lucas, kissing him wildly. The boy giggled into the other’s lips, sliding his fingers into his wet hair, pulling him even closer. Their clothes were sticking to their body, making them feel each other more. They started to slowly dance towards the bedroom, trying not to stumble while still kissing and holding onto each other. Their kisses were sloppy, full of giggles, teeth bumping into teeth.

Somehow they managed to get into the room, falling on Eliott’s bed after taking off their wet clothes, only leaving on their underwear. Lucas was laying down, Eliott above him, kissing his neck now while his hands were stroking his sides. The boy shivered, letting out a little moan. He had never felt so good with anyone, not like he ever tried this with boys, but he knew that this was special, that Eliott was special.

Hours passed, now they were just laying in bed, Eliott was resting his head on Lucas’ chest, tracing little circles on his skin with his fingers. They haven’t talked, though the short boy had a lot of questions, he knew that he can’t force him to talk. It was nice to just lay like this, quietly, peacefully. Forgetting about the stupid party, about his friends, focusing himself on this gorgeous man in his arms. He played with Eliott’s hair a little. It was still a bit wet.

“I thought you are not gonna come.” Eliott mumbled into the silence after a while, Lucas opened his eyes, fingers still playing with the other’s wet hair.

“I wasn’t thinking... I was worried, you were so serious in that text.” he said slowly, kissing the top of Eliott’s head softly.

“I don’t think I deserve this...”

“What do you mean?” he asked now concerned. He didn’t like how the tall boy was talking about himself. Usually he was the most confident person Lucas has ever known. He can’t be saying things like this.

“Laying here, in your arms.” he said, raising his head to look into the boys’ eyes. “I am not good enough for this.”

Lucas sighed, he put his hand on Eliott’s face, stroking it gently, rubbing his red, puffy lips with his thumb. He had so much to say, but couldn’t really put it into words, so instead he just gave a slow, lustful kiss to him, making sure that he gets what he’s trying to say. You deserve this. We both deserve this. We need each other.

Eliott gave in after thirty seconds, leaning on Lucas like a hungry predator, grabbing his waist as he deepened the kiss with him. His tongue asked for permission and when he got that, he spent long minutes exploring the other one’s mouth, pressing their body together, skin touching skin. Their bodies fit so well like they were made for each other and in that moment Lucas felt like that was the truth.

They fell asleep like this, legs and arms entangled, Eliott resting on Lucas, wearing only boxers. Both of them were happy and they didn’t wake up until 11:00. Lucas slowly opened his eyes, not being sure first where he was, then he felt the heavy body on himself and started smiling. He buried his face into the messy locks, taking in the smell slowly. It was so unbelieveable that he was waking up in bed with Eliott Demaury. A few weeks ago he didn’t even wanted to hear his name and now he was holding him, smelling him.

“You really like sniffing me, huh?” Eliott said suddenly, scaring the small boy a little. He looked up, smirking at him. “You are such a curious hedgehog.”

“And you are one really annoying raccoon.” the boy said, making an angry face that got the other one to laugh.

“You are so adorable.” he said, kissing his lips softly. “I never wanna leave this bed. I wanna stay here with you forever.” he mumbled, caressing Lucas’ cheek gently.

“We can stay here... I don’t wanna leave either.” he said smiling, kissing Eliott’s palm. “I haven’t had such a good sleep in a really long time, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” the tall boy smirked, kissing his neck gently, biting it even. “So only the sleeping part was good?” he asked playfully. Lucas chuckled and run his fingers through Eliott’s hair.

“You know that is not what I meant.” he said softly, kissing his forehead, then his nose.

“What did you mean then?”

“I feel good with you. I can’t really explain this... this week was absolute hell without you... I know that it’s stupid and I tried everything to get over my feelings, but...”

“No, don’t say that.” Eliott said, suddenly leaning over the small boy, hands resting on the bed, looking at him with those stormy blue eyes. “I don’t want you to get over this. I wanna plunge into it... I don’t care if it’s a bad idea... I don’t care how, I just wanna be with you.” he said seriously, even shaking a little. Lucas wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him down for a lazy, gentle kiss.

“I want this too. I’m not sure if I am ready for it... especially not in public... but as long as you kiss me, touch me or look at me like this... I don’t want anything else in this world.” Lucas whispered into his lips, looking into his eyes. A bright smile appeared on Eliott’s face, making his dark circles disappear, he looked so young, carefree and happy. The small boy totally loved that smile, he would do anything just to see it again. He pulled him back for a soft kiss. I could get used to this.

#Skam France #Elu enemies to lovers AU #I love hating you #Eliott Demaury #Lucas Lallemant #Elu #Eliott x Lucas

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washipuppy · 5 years

Text

Where is my mind (this time)?

Personal stuff? On MY Tumblr? Yep, it's happening. I need to ramble, and where the feck else am I gonna do it but Tumblr?

I was supposed to go in for an Autism assessment today with my therapist. It's been constantly on my mind it all week, to the extent that I think I might actually ne worried about it, and I have no feckin idea why. It's not a test.

Anyway, it was cancelled and re-scheduled for next week. I took the day off work for it too, since it was gonna be a couple of hours, but I went back to work because I'll need to take next Thursday instead. So I guess I'm having another week with this oversized, unresolved question-mark dangling from my neck.

Background will (hopefully) be under the cut so that most of you aren't bothered by all this:

Background 1 - My therapist is kind of flakey.

Like many people, I have a therapist that I picked entirely because I'd been without one for several years (since my last therapist retired) and I needed to do something about the tail-spin death-spiral my brain was in. I don't get to see them too often, because I work 8:30 - 5:00, 5 days a week and they tend to cancel my appointments on me thr day they happen, but I'm too tired and worn down by existence to get another one, so it is what it is.

Background 2 - I'm not trying to be weird, please stop calling me that.

Lotta people seem to think I'm Autistic. Including said therapist, who I noticed was asking me the "Could this person be Autistic?" questions during our last session. Shortly after which I realised I recognised the "Could this person be Autistic" questions without the word ever being used. I've considered the possibility, but although I have a some traits that are associated with ASD (non-verbal episodes, repetative hand / body movements when anxious, low social situational/emotional awareness, eye contact avoidance...), I have a pretty intense imagination and I can be spontanious. If I decide I want to go shopping after work, I'll do so. If someone wants to spend time with me and I don't really have a reason not to go (e.g. a prior commitment or not wanting to spend a lot of money on something I won't actually enjoy), I'm gonna go even if it's last minute. Because they asked me specifically (General invitations offered to "the group" don't elicit this, and I'm way more likely to bail on those) and I want to keep being asked to go to things; If I say no too often, people will just stop inviting me to things. So if I'm asked to go see a band or an expo or whatever and the cost isn't too bad, I'll go. Besides, what good will it actually do me if I get confirmation that I am Autistic? It's a bit late for it to make a difference to my development, the damage has already by and large been done. I didn't see how it would actually help my life now to be diagnosed.

Background 3 - The culmination of a cascade of f**kups.

For a while, I've suspected I might have ADD/ADHD (just gonna use ADHD from now for this). It started on Tumblr, oddly enough - I follow several people here who also have ADHD and post bits and bobs about it, all of which make me go "Yes, that is a thing that is me." But I tried not to think too much about the growing idea that I might have ADHD myself despite almost everything I ever saw or read about girls having ADHD described me perfectly - From the childhood maladaptive daydreaming through to the mental breakdown in university and inconsistent job performance - because I think of myself as something of a hypochondriac* and It's trite to say "Oh, I've got ADD, I'm so easily distracted!" when the world at large is horrible and distracting.

That is, until last year. See, I left a job I didn't like in 2018 and got one I quite liked in 2019. Thing is, even though I like this job, I'm still fucking up with an alarming frequency and I can't seem to stop. I don't know why it happens or how to make it stop, and I don't know how to make myself think or be more careful or even understand how I'm doing something wrong enough to stop. It's so incredibly frustrating and distressing to know you're going to fuck up, and to try to spend your time mitigating the inevitable**. The thing that made me think I should probably actually get myself checked out, however, was my partner. I've been forgetting a lot of things lately, getting confused, been struggling to keep things right in my head - after driving across the city for an event that had in face been re-scheduled next week, my partner sent me a comic strip from the ADHD Alien that basically outlined my exact mental stateand life. It was his own gentle way of saying "I don't exactly understand what's going on with you, but I think this might be what its called". More importantly though, it's something that, if I really do have it and can be diagnosed with it, we can actually do something about it and getting it managed would actually help my life.

And now, the thrilling culmination...

So. I figure "Feck it, 2020 is the year of getting my brain sorted out or something," and I talk to my GP about how to go about getting assessed for ADHD. My response is more or less a shrug with a side of "Speak to a mental health professional about that." So I speak to my therapist. I know ADHD often comes with ASD, so I figure okay, maybe we'll kill two birds with one stone and see about getting them both assessed.

Turns out she was going to suggest doing an assessment for ASD as well. I initially thought ADHD was in that too, but nope - misunderstanding on my part again. So I need to get off my goddamned backside and track down a way to get tested for the thing that can actually be managed and mitigated, while my stupid head spins its wheels over the thing that probably won't do anything but confirm how different/ not different my brain actually is.

Whatever it is, I worry it's getting worse.

*On a related note, my partner's atitude to his health is so different to my own. I always think I need to prove that something is wrong to my GP before anything can even be looked at. For example, I'm tired a lot, to the point I slip into micro-sleeps / blackouts at work. We thought perhaps I wasn't sleeping well due to the hole in my face being a disaster zone, which I talked to my GP about. A blood-test later revealed that my iron intake was within normal levels, but it was low within normal levels (i.e. I'm not anemic, I've just got a low iron count). So I worked on upping it with more red meat and iron suplaments. No improvement, either in my being tired levels or my iron intake levels (And my sinuses are as clear as they ever get, which is still not good). So stronger Iron checks and a test for celiac disease that I still need to get the results for, despite the fact that I'm about 98% sure they won't show anything. Basically, I'm working to prove that whatever's wrong with my sleep, a sleep study will probably be needed to assess.

My partner pointed out that I could just... go do that. On my own. I don't need my doctor's permission to check to see if I have apnea or some kind of sleeping condition. I don't need to prove I have something that warrents a sleep test, I can just go get a sleep test.

**There's also the distractions that aren't helping. I'll always find something - I made so many paper roses until that was finally burned out of my system, I went through a pad of post-it notes in a few months trying to take down distractions and put them asside before re-focusing on the task before a minor hiccup interrupted that technique, I've opened new windows on my browser and immediately closed them because I'm trying NOT to get distracted, but even if I don't put an obvious distraction in front of myself, I'll stare blankly into space and daydream instead of focusing.

#Autism #ASD maybe? Or not!#I don't get to know that yet!#vent #rant

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insomniac-dot-ink · 6 years

Text

Universe Falling

genre: sci-fi fantasy, wlw

words: 7k

summary: A young scientist starts communicating with the night sky, a love story across the universe

So it looked like I was going crazy. Actually, legitimately crazy.

Not the fun kind of crazy when your great aunt takes off her wig and dips it in the stew at family dinner in order to make your uncle shut up about his problem with bell-bottom jeans. Not evil crazy like your math teacher making everyone re-do their multiplication tables eighty times in a row after one kid swore.

It was crazy crazy.

My name is Francine Wesley.

And this is how I started talking to the night sky.

————————————–

When I was twelve years old I had a transfer student ask me if I was a pirate. I’m not sure if she meant it in a bad way or not, she hadn’t learned the pecking order yet- which was me and then everyone else up ahead. She asked me if the bandage over my left eye meant I was going to get a parrot and sail the seven seas.

I wish.

It was the year of the second surgery on my left eye, trying to correct it before the smudges at the edge of my vision started to devour everything else. My glasses were -25 and took up 55% of my small face at that age.

I was 12 and playing pirates and princesses with people who didn’t know why I couldn’t catch the ball when they threw it at me.

My father bought me my first official telescope that year, the year my grandpa passed away and left me all of his star charts and a broken down radio. I fixed the radio, I built the ladder up the tallest tree in my yard.

I traced the charts he left with my fingers, taking out a magnifying glass and looking and looking.

————–

They say math is the handwriting of God, that it breaks the world down into patterns and sense and definable movements.

I wasn’t sure about that, it felt more like God’s bad treasure map, one he put a lot of effort into making particularly unreadable sometimes. My mom was a math teacher, so it both helped and didn’t help at all. I hated most my other math teachers, they taught it wrong, I wasn’t fond of imaginary numbers, I never liked pi more than the average person, infinities were a headache. That didn’t stop me from beating all the boys at pop quizzes by the time I was in algebra one.

It was easier for me I think, smoother, faster, they said I was the quickest girl this side of the Cherry Creek. I didn’t know how to respond.

I didn’t like math, but I did like being told I was good at something, I did like what I could do with it, numbers and movements and the whole universe laid out. It got easier every time I did it.

That was the year that Cindy Claire took me to her birthday party, lifting me from the depths of social rejection, she said I was too pretty for the boys to be that mean. She wove flowers into my hair and asked if I liked anyone. I told her I didn’t know and we watched a movie with the captions on right in front of the screen.

That was the nicest thing anyone had done for me and Ratatouille is a beautiful movie when you’re barely looking.

She had a button nose and a splattering of freckles that curled and crawled around her body like paint flecks. I wanted to lick it up and watch her eyes light up, green as green fields and as wild as the western sky.

I entered a math tournament, she came and got asked out by every boy there, she laughed and said she already came with someone. I might have burst from joy if everything else inside me didn’t ache.

She grabbed my hand and said we were best friends and by that time next year she was dating the man she was going to marry and I was staring at the constellations in the sky like they were freckles. It’s easy to be in love with the sky and it’s easy to feel like breaking.

My dad was teaching me how to read his books under bright lights and a giant magnifying glass, my family always said I was like him- for better and worse.

———————-

I was seventeen when I had my license taken away, I only had it for one year but my mom told me she wouldn’t risk it. Not with a -30 prescriptions.

I was my father’s daughter and she wouldn’t see me driving myself off the side of the road when a blizzard rolled in. I lived in Northern Massachusetts, it snowed a lot that year.

I went to prom with Billy Eccleston, he didn’t know my middle name and I didn’t know his, but we sat in the back of his van and made out until my mouth went numb. I told myself this was probably how it was supposed to feel.

He tried to push my dress down and I wrinkled my nose and told him I was waiting for the right moment (and this wasn’t it), he rolled his eyes and reached for my glasses next, I bat his hand away. Now I was waiting for marriage.

He snorts and asked if I was still ‘actually getting out of this town soon?’ I nodded because this is why I accepted his prom invitation in the first place. We both wanted out- we could almost relate.

We both sigh at nothing and he kisses me again as I look over his left shoulder and watch the lights dance behind the cityscape.

I applied to 8 colleges and go into 6, my mom cried and my dad patted my head and I asked if I needed anything else- anything at all. He told me to get a dorm on the first floor and that he’d be there every weekend.

I cry, just a little bit.

———————————-

Everyone thinks it’s black, black like a setting sun or black like an airtight empty room. That it’s the night, the moment when you close your eyes and every color in the world is snuffed out.

A dark curtain, the thickest shadow over the world. But it’s not. It’s white.

Bright terrible light that floods and fleets into my vision, wavering colors and streaks of pure white, distracting as it is nonsense. I grit my teeth, it’s my sophomore year of college and I am squinting at the board and screeching in my head.

I was in the front row of the lecture and the professor was writing formulas on the board like his hand was on fire. I had a growing headache in my frontal lobe, I tell myself as I narrow my eyes at the board that I just needed to go to sleep, that it would be better in the morning.

My lip trembles and I take out my phone to get a close up of the board with my camera, trying to write and zoom at the same time.

“Any questions?” The professor asks as he turns around sternly, “this last one will be on the test.”

I flinch, was it too much to ask the world to iron itself out into a flat surface instead of a series of smudges and blurs? I see the professor turn in my direction and my stomach drops as I try to fix my expression.

Professor Chadwick was the ‘hardest bitch’ in the department as they called him and I couldn’t keep asking to come closer to the board in the middle of class. Soon I would just be licking the ink off of it to figure out what he had just written.

‘WRITE BIGGER’ is always on the tip of my tongue, but I just take another picture and wait.

“Got that?” He lets out a slew of theory before pointing at the clock as class comes to a close.

I’m almost up and out of my chair faster than a snap, I hurry to the board and finish taking pictures.

“Miss Wesley,” I jump at his voice. I barely turn my head as the five foot eleven man comes up to me, portly and round with a heavy dent in his forehead. He pats me on the back, “I saw your last test.”

I gulp and my lips pinch together, “uh, is this about Mrs. Dubois contacting you? Because I promise it won’t be distracting, I’ll just keep it on my desk.”

“I don’t care if you need five enhancers miss Wesley, that was some damn fine math.”

I raise my eyebrows, “thank you. I… studied?”

He chuckles, “you’re quick.” He pats my shoulder again, “and Mrs. Gregor says she likes the way you think. How would you like to intern for the department this summer?”

I blink only a couple times, “really?”

He nods with a sniff, “I see bright things in your future.”

My mouth was a little open and resist making the joke that I would be seeing a lot of bright things in my future too. I just nod instead, “thank you! Yes, I’d love to.”

That is the year I start working for Professor Chadwick and the university, it’s also the year that the government declares me legally blind.

—————————–

I had seven coworkers, two interns, and one sandwich place next to the observatory.

I was turning 28 in March and I hadn’t had a boyfriend since the last disaster of 2021. I was with sitting my back to the computers and a sandwich in my hand dripping mustard onto my lap.

The radio was on, playing ‘Winds of Fire’ as loud as it possibly could as I hear Sai Bhatia tapping her foot like she wanted to start a miniature cockroach band on the floor with it.

I moan loudly into my sandwich to let her know that it was both alright to take a break and hopefully expected. I had a feeling she resented me, but I also had a feeling that my next door neighbor was trying to summon ghosts in my driveway, so I wasn’t always a great judge of circumstance.

I was 27 and that still felt like it meant something.

“Woah,” both me and Sai pause as we hear a voice gasp from the other room. “Woah!” I sit up straight, “Dr. Wesley,” he says shrilly, “oh man, Dr. Bhatia!”

My skin was prickly as I stand up straight, “Rory, my boy, use your words.”

I hear some stumbling and chair screeching from the other room, “come look at this!”

I navigate my way into the next lab room, Rory, our grad student intern was standing next to the ROSTA computer and gesturing. I squint my eyes down and look both ways.

“Can you read it to me?”

“Yes, but you’re going to have to take a seat for this.”

I shake my head, “let’s get to the reading first, then we can see if any chairs need to be involved.”

“Let me see,” Dr. Bhatia clicks her heels over in a few strides, “did you locate the nearest asteroid cluster wavelengths?”

“No, but this electromagnetic field is enormous, and… weird? Really read. Listen to this,” he starts reading off the numbers and I perk up.

I only start leaning forward and my thoughts start racing, “This is saying it’s only a couple light years away, how the hell is that so close?” I turn to him, “Have we ever seen this before?”

He makes a couple non-committed gestures and points, “I’ve recorded it, we have to send this immediately.”

I nod quickly, “I’m going to scan some journals to see if this has ever been recorded before, how fast is it moving?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “but the camera picked up on some objects in it too.”

“Comets?” Dr. Bhatia was glancing over the numbers too.

“Dunno.”

I ruffle Rory’s bright red head, “hang in there kid.”

“Promise I’ll keep looking!”

I laugh and crack my knuckles, “let’s get to work.”

That was the first night, and it was a very long one at that.

—————–

Rory left around 3am, he said he needed to get back to his girlfriend, but even I could tell there were bags weighing his eyes down and a slump to his shoulders. And that was saying something.

Dr. Bhatia left just before dawn, not because she wanted to but because she hated the only donut place that delivered to our facility and someone had to eat a proper meal she said.

I was waiting expectantly for my Krispy Kremes when it hit six in the morning on a chilly fall day. I heard it first.

A radio buzz, bursting and calling as if this was a 1950s spy movie and the Russians were trying to jam our equipment, my eyebrows spike. I go to turn on the audio function to read the recent findings and digital images.

I pause when I start hearing the same repeating numbers: 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100

I furrow my brow, “what the hell?”

I bend down and try to squint at one of the digital pictures from our probe, I make a face. It was a very pink, a very large and pink blur.

Our mother university had called and told us to keep on an eye on the phenomena, it might be just a series of comets with some odd readings, but I was staring at something entirely different now. I couldn’t quite make sense of it, or make it out. But it was pink and bright.

01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100

I shouldn’t be getting numbers in this way.

“Okay computer,” I say stiffly, “but why?”

I sit down to start looking for the main patterns in the data as the numbers keep repeating and repeating.

—————————

I was going crazy, legitimately crazy.

There was only one pattern in the repeating readings of the magnetic field that made any sense, it was binary, of course it was binary. And it didn’t make any sense, why would our computer translate coordinates into binary?

Why would it read it out over and over? Our stuff was either breaking OR, unfortunately, the sky was somehow writing ‘hello’ to me.

Which was either first alien contact or a very sad local news article: bravely differently-abled scientist makes her way to the nut house.

Sky’s. Didn’t. Say. Hello.

Especially comets, what even lived in comets? There was a lot about the universe we didn’t know and the sudden small chance this was it sent a giddiness through my veins like no other.

It was new. It was never seen before. I don’t go home that night.

————–

I wake up on my desk the next morning in a puddle of my own drool and in front of a whole slew of numbers and a binary-language program open on my computer. Alongside a whole box of Krispy Kremes as the site of a tragic graveyard massacre of crumbs.

“What are these?” I hear a new voice enter and I wipe at the crust in my eyes.

“We’re being visited by aliens, haven’t you heard?” I yawn, “they’re very pink.”

“No, I mean, really, what am I looking at?” Dr. Chadwick had returned to the facility.

I crack my neck and stand up, “hell if I know.”

“Haha.”

“Just a little joke for your morning doctor.”

He sniffs loudly, “please come in here.”

I find my glasses and lurch my way to the room that I had just spent the last eleven hours in. I clear my throat, “Did you see the readings? It’s like the computer is possessed or something.”

“And by that you mean possessed by an angry ghost that erases our equipment?”

My eyebrows shoot up, “what?”

“Tell me what you see? And no, that isn’t a joke invitation.”

I lower my face into the paper and see nothing but an empty blackness. It was empty, a nothing, a black picture.

My head falls down, “what.. What?”

I was going crazy.

——————————-

I try not to be at the office the next day. Or the next.

I take some time off to scroll through my tinder notifications and visit the nearest pool to just sort of stick my feet in and sit in the sauna room until I melt. It was funny I left my small town in Massachusetts just enter another smaller town in Maine.

Who even went to Maine?

Scientists and bad decisions.

All of the data from the night before had been scrambled, we had still sent off the original points of magnetic radiation, but we were told it was just a phenomenon. An off reading.

I still had a couple handwritten notes, sloppy, large, and with one word in the middle: HELLO.

Fuck, hello. I tried that one on a few of my tinder matches and it didn’t quite feel the same after hearing it from the sky. Aliens existed and so did English binary in space apparently.

Or ghosts that knew computer binary and possessed equipment. Stars that could speak. The end of the world? And I was that one scientist who had to warn everyone about the danger and yet no one would believe me.

The film tagline: The Blind Girl Saw it All! But No one Could believe their eyes. The stars were speaking now, and they were pissed. Disaster movie 2028.

I lie on my belly in the sun and listen to an audio book about magic and intrigue. It was my second time trying to finish the Wheel of Time series and I was halfway asleep in the grass.

Something buzzes inside me: I should send something back, I blink a couple times. I should definitely try and send something.

Said every normal person right before they are eaten by space monsters.

I roll over and crawl over to my porch, it was time to break out my old CB radio that my grandfather left me. I take my time arranging the frequency and sitting on my roof that night, thinking, writing.

I tap out one clear, dotted message: hello.

I knew it wouldn’t carry very far, but somehow that wasn’t the point for me. I wait.

————————

It was the next day when I hear Dr. Bhatia in the next room. “I’m leaving.” She says loudly, “I’m not doing this again.”

I lift my eyebrows and turn around toward the computer room. “More weird numbers?”

Her heels click as she walks in, “it’s getting closer. I emailed the data points away quickly this time, but the second time I looked they all came up blank.”

I wrinkle my nose, “we’re being haunted.”

She sniffs, “And I’m not going to be the first brown person eaten in the movie.”

I laugh, “it’s okay. I’ll be the blind girl that tragically stumbles into the queens nest first and gets fed to her young.”

Dr. Bhatia snickers to herself, “yeah. And then Rory saves the day, it’s a blockbuster.”

We laugh together and I’m hoping the passive aggressive PhD comparisons fades. Even if I did get magna cum laude a year ahead of her- just for the record.

She pats me on the back, “go home too.”

“No way,” I stand up and crack my back, “finding new and unusual things is why I’m in the field. I’m like Velma from scooby doo, but sexier.”

“Sure,” she leans over my chair and points at my glasses, “an appropriate comparison.”

I grin, “extra hours never hurt.” I sing and I can make out her shaking head.

“I’m calling maintenance tomorrow to check for pigeons in the observatory dish again.”

I laugh, “I love talking to pigeons you know.”

She pats me on the back and the only thing left to do was hurry over to the next room, I turn on the audio readings and take out a pen. I jot down the numbers faster than the computer can speak.

It reverted once again from its usual numeral coordinates back into ones and zeroes. It was happening again.

But it was different.

Night number two: ‘can you hear me? Can you hear me? Can you hear me?’

I use the lab radio this time: yes, yes, yes. Yes.

The hard drive is all blank in the morning. Everything from the emails to outdoor cameras in the parking lot were left blank.

Maintenance was sent in twice, Rory jokes that the FBI was coming next with Scully and Mulder.

I tell him he’s Mulder already and that apparently makes his week and he makes coffee for me first for the rest of the night. But my skin is crawling, I wait for them to leave again.

Our equipment was breaking or I was talking to something, I consider bringing in more experts, new pairs of eyes to watch me contact it. But I have feeling it wouldn’t speak then, and I have a deeper fear that I didn’t want anyone else to see it anyway.

I wait until 3am, tapping, looking, waiting, the computer starts reading binary again, I translate quickly through my other computer.

‘I’ve seen you before, I’ve seen you before, I’ve seen you before.’

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. So this is the part of the movie where the alien comes down and uses me as it’s first meat puppet.

But it was also the part of the movie where every part of my being lights up.

‘Where? Why are you deleting our files? What are you doing? Who are you?’ I had prepared all of these binary questions the day before.

I only get back one word: ‘again. Again. Again.’

I hold my breath and write down as much as I can with pen and paper. The equipment is blank as a newborn baby the next day but I have the one word: again.

——————————-

November 10th 2028: the messages start. And it’s not possible, it should not be quick or easy or fast.

I knew something was wrong. But the binary in the sky comes back just as I type out a new message on the lab radio.

‘It’s been so long.’

‘How long?’ I ask, ‘Where are you?’

‘Too long.’

‘What do you see?’

‘You. It’s been so long.’

‘That’s kind of freaking me out.’ I finally tell whatever it is the truth.

‘Haha.’ I get back some sort of strange binary laugh. ‘I don’t mean to. You’re so small this time.’

‘Now you are really freaking me out. Why are you deleting the data?’

‘Goodnight my love.’

I don’t sleep that night or the next day or wonder why ‘my love’ was written in my notes as if my fingers were going through an earthquake. Of course, I could finally add: ‘at least the sky loves me’ on my next dating profile.

——————

November 11th 2028:

I ask first this time.

‘Do you have a name?’

‘Of course.’

‘Can you tell me?’

‘You may call me Heaven’

I sit up in my chair and my mouth hangs up, “Oh fuck,” I swear up and down and suddenly stop being an atheist for a second.

‘Heaven?’

‘Haha.’ I get back the same metallic laugh.

‘Heaven?’ I send again.

‘No.’

‘You made a joke.’

‘You are very funny when you are surprised.’

‘Can you see me?’ I write first.

‘Can you see me?’ Is the return.

I send a very short message, ‘let’s just say ‘no.’

‘You may call me ‘Texca’ until we meet again.” I translate the name over and over again until it looks like I got it right.

‘Texca?’ I send out quickly, some part of me knows it shouldn’t be this quick. It was light years away.

‘Yes. What is yours?’

‘What do you mean by ‘until we meet again?’ It was a long message to get out, it was almost five in the morning now.

‘That is a very long name.’

‘Haha. My name is Francine.’ I tell her quickly and the response is immediate.

‘Francine, Francine, Francine.’

‘Please,’ I type, hoping that weird ghost/deities/aliens knew begging. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Francine.’ Is written back, ‘goodnight my love.’

I lie on the floor and trace lines in the ceiling. I was surely losing it, but they would have to come shut me down before I stop.

——————-

November 12th 2028.

‘Francine.’ She (I now call it she) messages first.

‘Good morning!’

‘It really is.’

‘Is it morning where you are?’ I try to decipher where she is.

‘It’s always morning when I see you.’

‘Oh.’ My hands hover over the ‘dot dot’ button. ‘Are you making more jokes?’

‘No.’ Texca writes.

‘Can you really see me?’ I write again.

‘Yes,’ it says, ‘yes, yes, yes.’

‘How?’

‘You are very much a scientist.’

‘You know what a scientist is?’

‘I know what you are.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Up above.’

‘Okay?’

‘You’re confused.’

‘Yes!’

‘Haha,’ it said again and I sigh heavily, ‘give it time my love.’

‘I am frowning. Do you know what a frown is?’

It took a good ten minutes for me to translate the next couple messages, I groan when I find the right combination.

‘:)’

‘An alien with a sense of humor,’ I write back and stretch out as I savor my time in the ethers of nonsense. Of the impossible.

‘A human with one too.’

‘How are you doing this?’

‘Keep looking.’

‘Where?’ I sit up completely, ‘where?’

‘Goodnight my love.’

I put my head in my hands, hunch over and then groan so loudly I think it echoes off the lab walls.

I’m looking for something in a forest of weeds it feels like, no up, no down, just roots and questions.

———————

“So,” Sai Bhakti was sitting with her back up straight a pastry in her hand, “I hear you’ve been keeping long nights.”

I put my elbows on the table and lean forward, “can’t we talk about Game of the Thrones or something? We’re out of work for once.”

She cracks a smile, “I just hear you’re talking to ghosts.”

I sniff, “The ghost of the second monitor? I guess so.”

She pushes a pastry over to me, “God. We really did need to be kicked out of that office. Thank God for maintenance days.”

I bat a pastry back and forth in my hands, “do you think there’s a chance… I dunno, it’s not broken?”

She makes a face at me, “how? It’s erasing data points.”

“Well,” I frown, “there’s a lot in this universe we don’t understand.”

She leans forward, “like ghosts.”

“And aliens.”

“And bigfoot.”

I snort, “bigfoot is definitely involved.”

“You know,” she tucks a piece of long dark hair behind her ear, “you’re right. We don’t have to talk about work.”

We both stare at each other for a second and she leans back, I clear my throat, “how’s your husband?”

She shrugs, “the usual burden.” I raise my eyebrows and open my mouth, she puts her hand up, “lovable burden.”

I listen to her describe the problems of laundry day and having to share a bathroom with a man who cuts his toenails on the counter. But he made her dinner every night even on the nights she didn’t come home, so she assures me it’s working.

I nod, she starts eyeing me, “and you?” She narrows her eyes, “you’ve been more… chipper.”

“I’m always chipper,” I defend, “like a cheap socialite at an invite-only event.”

She smiles, “how’s the love life doctor?”

I stick my tongue out, “I can be chipper without another person involved.” It surely wasn’t a person anyway.

She studies me, “eat your pastry then.”

I take a bite and sigh into the sky, “okay. I mean. Something is… going on.”

“Something?”

“Something. But not like, dating something. Just something.”

“Ooh,” her features get sharp, “one that rhymes with one night hand?”

I couch on my own spit, “oh my God.”

“I’m not that young Fran.”

I crack a smile, “I mean. There have been a couple long nights,” I say mysteriously, “but nothing happens. And I think… I mean, I don’t know much about her.” Like if she had a body or ate or walked or breathed air.

I take a deep breath, “But she seems to like me? A lot?”

Sai hums loudly and sits up, “and how do you feel?”

I pause for the moment and stare up at nothing, “good?” I say slowly, “confused.”

“Ah, does she like you more than you like her?” She taps her chin again.

I tilt my head to the side, “I don’t know her.”

She shrugs, “then give it a chance.”

I smile down at my hands, “I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew her.”

Sai laughs softly, “is she odd?”

“The oddest.”

“Good,” Sai slaps her hands on the table, “you’ll match.”

I blow a stray piece of hair away from my face, “local pirate falls in love with the sky.”

She gives me a strange look, “come again?”

“Nothing.”

I wait for maintenance to check our equipment and I hope nothing changes.

————

November 15th 2028

‘How are you Texca?’ It’s the first night I have alone again.

The response is immediate, ‘where have you been?’

‘I thought you could see me?’

‘I was so worried.’

‘I’m here now. They were checking our observatory. You’ve caused quite a stir.’

‘I’m close.’

I sit up completely straight in my seat, ‘oh?’

‘I’m so close my love.’

‘Where? Where are you?’

‘Above,’ it says again and again, ‘I have something to tell you.’

‘Please,’ I say quickly, ‘yes, I am listening.’

‘I know you don’t remember.’

‘Remember what?’

‘But I am Texca,’ there is a long pause between those words, a buzz that comes across the speaker as the computer seems to almost fritz. ‘I have always loved you.’

My mouth is hanging open and I feel like the world will become completely white and empty after that second. ‘Why?’

‘Always,’ ‘always, ‘always.’

A screech comes over the speakers, the two programs working together to translate the binary into words starts showing numbers, symbols, nonsense, gibberish.

‘Always, always.’ It forms a simple elegant formation. And one last word, in English, no filter. ‘SOON.’

I hold my breath and wonder if this is when I walk into the alien queen’s lair and get eaten. I knew then that I would go willingly.

“Soon,” I whisper the word to myself like an electric thrill, something was happening, something I could never explain.

I fall asleep sitting against the cool wall of the observatory and try to make sense of things I see in the telescope, blurry shapes. Something pink.

———————

I wake up the next morning and the computer was smoking, Rory was dancing from foot to foot and trying to explain it to Dr. Chadwick.

“I didn’t do it!” He says shrilly, “I promise, I promise professor, please don’t fail me.”

Bob just sighs, “someone get maintenance in here again. And figure out what these damn numbers mean.”

“Wait,” I limp back up and feel the bruises on my body from spending the night against the wall.

Bob turns around, “and if it isn’t our favorite Cinderella. You do own a bed, don’t you? God knows I pay you enough.”

I shake my head, “wait.”

“Dr. Wesley didn’t do it either!” Rory defends quickly, “in fact, I did do it.”

“That’s very kind kid,” I make my way over and fumble for the audio button, “let me hear the numbers.”

“64.2008, 149.4937.”

I wipe at my face and stand up straight, I knew it in my gut. “Oh.” I blink, “someone get a map.”

“You think the numbers are for here?” The doctor asks and I nod.

“How do you know?”

I turn around, “I have to go.”

“Doctor?” Bob Chadwick turns to me, “are you alright, wait, Fran.”

I wave listlessly, “I’m taking a few days off.”

I don’t stop as they call after me, I knew it then. There was no going back.

I leave them a long note and all my coupons for the local restaurants.

————————–

The plane ride was $200 for one way since I was buying at last minute, I choose first class because why the hell not. I was treating myself as I chased strangers that were either playing the longest game prank ever. Or something else.

I was going to Nome Alaska on a Tuesday night.

The trip over is a dreamless hush of sleep that leaves me feeling empty and anxious in every crevice of my body. I was chasing something that erased data points and communicated in binary and had been watching me.

Which might say more about my mental state of being rather than things in the actual realms of possibility. But I had to go, I had to find out.

I get off at Anchorage in a wobbly daydream of consciousness and board a second tiny plane.

I sit between an old man with his cat under the seat and a teenager who talked on the phone with his mom before we took off. He was visiting his dad and she was worried about the spider bite he got last time he was there.

I almost start crying after we take off, I don’t know why.

We arrive at seven in the morning, the old man shakes me gently awake as we land and there are tear stains dripping down my cheeks again, I wipe my face and don’t say anything as I enter Nome Alaska.

It was another world if I had ever seen one, small colorful houses and empty streets. It was the middle of the winter so no one was out of their houses and very few visitors made it this far out.

I was lucky it was warmer than usual, but it still numbed my cheeks and shook my teeth to their roots as I stepped outside. I hurry to get inside the airport and pick up my simple bag- a large radio inside.

I took a long look out the airport window before tugging a hat further down on my ears and finding the nearest tourism desk.

A smiling yet surprised looking woman greets me, “Welcome to Nome Alaska! What can I do for you?”

I lift my chin up, “just a little help.”

“Will you be needing lodging miss?”

I just nod before taking a deep breath, “Yeah. Also, I have a question.”

She leans over the desk, “go right ahead.”

“Where is the best place to the see the sky around here?”

———————————–

I booked a room at a motel named ‘Linda’s’ met Linda and took a very long walk until my toes went number, which wasn’t very hard at all. I was living in Maine so I wasn’t not used to the cold.

But Nome Alaska was a different type of cold altogether. It wanted to eat you alive and leave the bones to freeze.

I kept walking.

The tour guide gave me some helpful tips: there’s a lot of great places with natural beauty around Nome! The snow and trees and little squat rural houses.

And snow.

I didn’t mind the snow and there were more stars here in this tiny chunk of the world than in all of Massachusetts combined. Nome had a glittering sky that went on in all directions, it was mostly all a big blur to me, but a beautiful one nonetheless.

I use my camera and magnify and magnify, following the path as far as it will go.

I follow it until I find a low hill with a view of the city just behind me, I sit down. I wait.

———————

November 20th.

Nothing on the radio, I call Dr. Bhatia, she says the equipment has returned to normal, though they had to throw out monitor two.

A woman at the local dinner refills my coffee five times and someone buys me a piece of cherry pie.

I pet someone’s Husky malamute in the street and wait.

———————

November 21st.

The sky is so big sometimes I’m afraid it’ll swallow me whole when I look up into it. I start shaking at night, the tear stains pepper down my cheek each morning I wake up.

There is silence at the other end of my radio and I wait. Perhaps there was a lead leak into my local water back in Maine. I dream of mad kings and beautiful pink princesses that never wake up from their enchanted slumber.

————————–

November 22nd.

Someone takes me out snowshoeing and the first winter storm rolls in that night, I don’t see any sky for days.

Linda’s says she’s going to stoke a fire in the common room if I want some strong whiskey and a game of poker. I lose thirty-two bucks that night and any sense of purpose.

“What are you doing here miss?” The man at the poker table asks twice.

I just shrug twice, “I dunno.”

They hum at that and then I lose thirty-three bucks that night.

——————–

November 25th.

The storm clears up and I don’t know how to tell the local residents that I am both Jewish and not here for Christmas. They are having a small parade in the city center nonetheless and every other person I meet tells me to come. I watch a tiny girl bundled up to her neck sing a Christmas carol as high pitched as a silver bell.

I clap, and I wait.

The sky is so large I’m afraid if I don’t hold onto something then it will suck me up into the vast cold above, sometimes I try to let go though and let it happen.

I’m afraid I really have lost my mind.

———————

December 2nd.

“They’ll be an aurora tonight,” Linda tells me that morning and I perk up, just a little bit.

“Oh,” I blink a little bit, “really?”

“I feel it. Yeah, will you still be around for that young lady?”

I hum, “I’ll try. I’ve booked a flight home on Thursday.”

She gives an old wizened smile, “shame. My son really liked your singing voice.”

I wipe my face and adjust my thick glasses, “that’s why I don’t drink whiskey anymore.”

“It’s always nice to have more people out this way!” She wipes the counter down and watches me, “for whatever reason they arrive for.”

I shrug listlessly and give an almost-smile, “early mid-life crisis.”

She chuckles, “hope it was a good one!”

I laugh, “it was.”

I wander around the city all day and hug the first loose dog I see, “do you know where you’re going sir?” I ask the dog as I pet his ears and he laps up my face.

Neither of us has much of an answer.

—————–

December 3rd.

I hear it before I see it. A buzz, a whistle, something like a whisper and a clanking sound all at once. “Told you, stranger!”

A crowd is pointing and picking up cameras, it’s night and I had missed my flight home, I start walking in the opposite direction of the crowd.

The buzzing and chiming increases like a soft caress eating away at me. I look up.

“Texca?” I call out into nothing as I hear it, the something. “Texca.”

There is something pink on the horizon, I start running, my eyes are prickling. I see the same hill I had found the first night I had arrived here.

I stumble and hobble through the snow, climbing and clawing my way to the top as I keep the colors of the night just in front of me. I can see their smears of greens and blues kissing the earth.

I squint and call, my voice rising in the wind. “Are you here!?” I raise my arms up, “were you real…?”

Maybe I already knew the answer. The greens shift to blue and yellow before my eyes, and pink, pink like flowers, pink like cats noses, pink like the universe.

I gasp and see something morph and shape above me, large enough so even I could make it out, large enough to steal my breath away. The night sky was alive with one word: my love.

The tears start freezing on my cheeks as they won’t stop flowing, “it’s been so long.”

I reach my shaking, hungry fingers up and grasp at the light. I see it, a figure, a being, something I couldn’t describe. Maybe we all were made of souls and stardust and perhaps soulmates exist in feral untamed universes.

Even if they must cross the galaxy to meet again.

My fingertips grace over something warm and I am overcome with something morphing out of the nothing. “My love,” a whisper, like a wish and a prayer and the rev of a car engine. “You came.”

I am enveloped in warmth and something drips down my body like melting candle wax, I close my arms and wrap my arms around the light.

“Hello, my love.”

And the sky devours me whole.

------------------------

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brvckin-blog · 6 years

Text

in all forms except physical i can write an intro, know that ( ! ) i’m mikhia, you can call me mikki if you want tho idc lmao, i’m eighteen, and i live my life by the word of park sooyoung. in her name we pray, amen! i’m always tryna come up with some kind of witty intro but LMAO that never happens and probs never will so this is it.......... this is what y’all get! if you wanna plot then read this shit and gimme a mf smash of that heart and i’ll hit you up! or, if you prefer plotting on d.iscord then you can find me over at YUKHEI’S WHITE GIRL LAUGH #5355 just like tell me who you are when i add you!

▶ BASIC INFORMATION

breckin rhee isn’t as innocent as he seems. on the outside they’re just another twenty-one year old junior who’s looking to get through college with a degree in biology, but let me be the first to tell you there’s more than meets the eye. although they were ingrid’s party buddy, they were the one who held her still while she was bound and gagged. hopefully nobody finds out what they did!

▶ BULLET POINT BACKGROUND

the following overview contains triggering topics such as abuse, drug use, manipulation, and murder. if any of these topics make you uncomfortable then please click away as your well being is a lot more important than the background of my character. however, just as an fyi, none of the topics are talked about in depth, just more-so mentioned!

growing up it was just breckin and his dad living in a big, isolated house at the end of a road where no one really cared to get to know one another. he never knew what happened to his mom, but he also never asked. him and his dad didn’t have the kind of relationship for that; him and his dad were never close enough to have personal conversations.

the two of them only spoke a handful of words to each other by the time the boy was ten and had been completely raised by a nanny. but then everything changed when she just didn’t show up one day and his dad decided to play the role of a parent for once. and, just like with his mom, he had no idea what happened to his former parental figure.

he was shit at it (go figure) and constantly yelled at breckin, even pushing him around and smashing his toys just cause he felt like it. he didn’t understand what he had ever done wrong and a part of him thought that this was just how every parent treated their child.

when he was twelve, he ended up finding an old camcorder and instantly fell in love with filming everything around him. it all looked so beautiful through a lens; untainted. but he was young and kids can be dumb. he ended up recording over one of the tapes inside and when his dad found out, he completely lost it.

apparently breckin had taped over an old home video of his mom, one that his dad watched frequently, and it became the catalyst for events that would change his life forever. it was the first time his dad was ever physically abusive towards him.

he doesn’t really have much memory of the event, but he does remember being at the top of the stairs filming before everything went black. he found out later that his dad had pushed him down the stairs, but it was ruled an accident and he was put back into his care after he healed.

things only got worse from there with his dad constantly telling him that he was a monster, that no one would ever love him, and that no one would care if he died. these things clawed their way down his throat and found a home in his lungs until he felt like he could no longer breathe.

as he got older and a little colder, he started fighting back and it ended up just being a big brawl between him and his dad all the time. they would literally beat the shit out of each other multiple times a week until, suddenly, it all stopped when he was sixteen.

his dad remarried and the woman brought in two younger children. then, suddenly, his dad was someone else entirely. it was like the bitter old man had been replaced by the most wholesome being in the world. he acted like a completely different person and it pissed breckin off. but it also inspired him in a way; it changed his outlook on the world around him entirely.

so he changed his personality too, became the picture perfect son who played sports and got good grades. he held up his image well, but the monster his father always told him he was never went away. it just waited under his facade until the perfect time to strike.

it was after his first real girlfriend that he decided he liked hurting people. he liked breaking their hearts because it made him feel like a god. he was the perfect boyfriend, dating girls and boys and anyone that was dumb enough to fall for his tricks. he would make sure that he was all they thought about, that they were sure they were in love with him, and then he would rip the rug right out from under them.

nothing made him happier than watching them cry and beg him not to do this. they looked so ugly and broken and he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful. he liked seeing people at their most vulnerable, got off on humiliating them.

it was around that same time that he also got into drugs, cocaine specifically, and it helped to perk him up; it helped to make him not look so dead inside. he was a great actor, but the eyes are the window to the soul and his held nothing inside.

with his new life planned out, breckin made the decision to go to college and major in biology with the hopes of getting into med school and becoming a doctor like his father. in some weird way, it was almost like he wanted to be just like him, to show him that he was only monster because of him.

it was at his high school graduation that he found out what really happened to his mother when she suddenly showed up trying to act like everything was ok. in his mind, he had already come to terms with her death, deciding that his father more than likely killed her. but the truth hurt a whole lot more. she had just left........ left him with a monster who didn’t love him. and, not only that, but she had a whole new family with two children (his half siblings) and one of them was even close to him in age. it enraged him and, so, the next morning he cut the brake line in her car and killed her off permanently. she was dead to him so dead she would stay.

when he left for uni, he constructed a backstory where he was the son of a pastor who graduated as valedictorian and blushed when complimented. none of that was true, but it didn’t matter. everyone would believe him and would never question it so it didn’t matter.

at freshman orientation, he found his first victim and really set everything back into motion. he began dating anyone and everyone before ultimately cheating on them, and breaking their hearts in the worst possible way all while holding up his perfect little persona until the end.

it was a cruel game, but he was able to keep others quiet about who he really was either through blackmail or through them being so humiliated that they left school and moved away.

over the years though as he’s gotten busier and has gotten closer to graduating, he’s really been too exhausted to keep up his facade as much so he’s basically half himself and half good church goin boy lmao!

▶ LIST OF SECRETS

obviously no one knows about these (unless we’ve plotted something out surrounding them) so keep these to your ooc self beetch! i honestly just wanted to throw ‘em down here because my memory is shit!

breckin plans on going to med school after graduation so, in preparation for becoming a doctor down the road, he will oftentimes practice on willing peers who are looking for a little extra cash.

he has a weird obsession with death but, more specifically, what comes after. it’s something that no one knows the answer to so he has taken it upon himself to try and figure it out. how, you ask? think flatliners. he hooks himself (and other people occasionally) to a machine then injects them with a drug to stop their heart. they die, the two minute countdown begins, then they’re resuscitated. he’s been getting a little too brave lately though and letting himself flatline for longer periods of time.

even though those two things in particular could get him not only kicked out of school, but ruin his chances of getting into med school, there are others that would pretty much bury his entire reputation six feet under. since he was in his early teens, breckin has been living a sort of double life. he pretends to be a nice boy who only has good intentions, but he couldn’t be more opposite. he loves breaking hearts, hurting others, and humiliating them. more often than not, he dates people solely for that.

even though he doesn’t need the money, he loves attention so he started up his very own little artistic porn blog on tumblr (throw it back to when that shit was still allowed). he began when he was a freshman and has accumulated around forty thousand followers in that time. he never shows his face or anything but he posts pretty racy photos and sells pictures, videos, and audio recordings to those that are willing to pay.

breckin has a very packed schedule between studying pre-med, playing sports, and keeping up with all of his other extracurricular activities that he doesn’t find much time to do normal things like sleeping, eating, etc. this has pushed him to find other means to sustain him that mostly include divulging in various drugs of choice.

▶ POTENTIAL PLOT IDEAS

these are just barebone ideas that could and should be expanded on. but, again, they’re only ideas and i’m really open to plotting just about anything? especially if you have smth in particular that you really want filled, please don’t be afraid to come to me about it! all plots are also open to any muse of any gender!

TEAMMATE(S) — breck is really into sports (specifically more aggressive ones) so if your muse plays any such as: football, lacrosse, hockey, etc then hmu! we can do full blown rivals, playful rivals, mates who just help keep each other motivated to do their best, etc.

HALF SIBLING — if you read the background info then you’ll know that breck’s mom pretty much disappeared then showed back up with two new kids who are his half siblings. however, one of them is pretty close to his age so it’d be cool to have them around? especially considering the fact that he ended up killing their mother yikes! even though they obvs don’t know that it could make for some good writing to explore them finding it out in the future!

ROMANTIC(?) — i’m talkin fwb, exes that he’s played, one night stands, etc. considering the fact that his schedule has only gotten busier and busier, he doesn’t really have time to date around like he used to but he still has needs, damn, so essketit!

PARTY BUDDY — breck likes to party a lot and likes to get fucked up so he needs some friends who’ll humor him and who can keep up with all of his wild shenanigans.

DRUG DEALER — with the amount of shit he does (both personally and otherwise) he could keep your character completely funded himself lmao! hes got a lot of money so let his dumbass give it to you!

NEIGHBOR(S) — breck doesn’t live on campus cause fuck that hes too old for it and he hated it anyway so he lives in an apartment which means your muse? could be his neighbor idk this is super vague but we could do a lot with it just trust me!

SECRETS(?) — considering a couple of his secrets are a little out there it’d be kinda cool to have someone in on them. like, with his whole experimenting on people thing and basically killing them then bringing them back to see what they experienced ya....... could be fun literally someone gimme it!

#liarsintro #anyway..... gas me up :)#☆ — ❛ out of character. ❜

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believingispowerfulmagic · 6 years

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“The Nanny” Chapter 33: Cleansing

“I am honored that you chose me,” Cecilia Vidrio said, pressing her hand to her chest as she smiled. “Though I’m still in a state of disbelief.”

Regina smiled as she motioned to the drawings in front of her. “We were very pleased with your ideas for the nursery and we have the utmost confidence in your work.”

“We’ll pay for whatever you need and you’ll work with little interference from us,” Robin promised.

“Just the occasional check in, just to make sure you’re okay and to see if you want or need anything,” Regina clarified.

Cecilia nodded, her dark curls bouncing in her ponytail as she studied their offer. She appeared to still be shocked that they had chosen her, which Regina understood. This meant more than just one job for her. If Robin and Regina appreciated her work, they would then tell other people about it and recommend her for other jobs. They could also possibly support her work, including possibly being a patron. Cecilia’s life certainly was about to change.

After spending the last hour talking with her and getting a better feel for her style as well as her, Regina was certain it couldn’t happen to a nicer person.

“Is there anything you need from us?” Robin asked her.

Cecilia studied the paperwork they had given her, looking a bit lost. “I don’t…I don’t know. It’s all so much.”

Regina smiled, taking her hand. “That’s okay. You can go home and look everything over, process it. Then if you have any questions, you can always call us back.”

“That sounds good,” she replied, starting to stand. “Thank you again. I really appreciate this opportunity.”

Robin stood as well though Regina had to remain seated, knowing that if she tried to stand, they would be waiting for a long time. She leaned over the table as she shook Cecilia’s hand before watching as Robin escorted her to the door. “We look forward to seeing your final product. Both Regina and I know you will create an amazing nursery for our twins,” he told her.

“I will,” Cecilia promised. She then waved at Regina before exiting the office.

“I like her,” Regina said, rubbing her stomach. The twins were asleep, giving her a break from their kicks. “She’s got a good energy and her drawings were absolutely beautiful.”

She picked up the drawing that had first fascinated her several weeks ago, the beautiful rendition of Cinderella in watercolor. The whimsy and bright colors were going to be perfect for their nursery. Regina couldn’t wait to see it when it was done.

Robin sat down next to her, admiring the painting as well. He then kissed her cheek. “Are you and the Beans hungry? How about we go get something to eat?”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, reaching her hand out. “Care to give me a lift? Otherwise, we’ll be getting dinner by the time I stand.”

He chuckled, standing up as he took her hand. Robin was a strong support as he helped her lift herself to her feet before pulling her into his embrace. “I’m always willing to give you a hand.”

“Thank you,” she said, hugging him back.

Robin wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the door. “So, where do you want to go? Granny’s?”

She shook her head, feeling in the mood for something her beloved eatery didn’t offer. After all, there were only so many BLTs a person could eat. “I actually want Italian. Can we go to Tony’s?”

“Of course we can,” he said, opening the door for her. “I just need to make one stop and then we’ll head straight to the restaurant.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “Emma and Killian are entertaining Roland for us once Mary Margaret leaves. We have all the time in the world.”

He nodded, stopping as they passed Johanna’s desk. “I’m taking Regina to lunch. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“I’ll hold your calls,” she said, smiling at them. “Have a good time, you two. And it’s nice to see you again, Regina.”

“You too,” Regina replied, getting on the elevator with Robin. He pressed one of the buttons and the doors closed as he pulled her close to him.

She giggled, playing with his tie. “Someone’s in a mood.”

“I am,” he replied, giving her a coy smile. “Maybe I’ll call out after lunch and we can go have dessert at home.”

“Are you dessert?” she asked, her mind already flashing to the two of them in bed.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m hoping so.”

The doors dinged as they opened, letting them out on a floor lined with cubicles. He took her hand and they walked down the hallway. She glanced around, noticing signs regarding accounting practices as well as posters with finance jokes. The clicking of calculators echoed around them and she smiled. “Is this the finance department?”

“Yes, it is,” he replied before pausing. He grew hesitant. “Are you okay being here? Do you want to wait somewhere else?”

She chuckled, shaking her head though she was touched he was worried about her. “I’m fine. It’s actually comforting to be back in a finance department. I’ve missed it.”

“Do you think you’ll want to go back to finance?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her again as they resumed their stroll between the cubicles.

“I think so,” she said, thinking of the catalogue she hadn’t yet shown him. She was still weighing all her options.

“You think you’ll miss taking care of kids?” he asked.

She chuckled, rubbing her stomach as one of the Beans kicked her. “I’m not stopping. I’m just now a mother rather than a nanny.”

He kissed her forehead. “You’re an amazing mother. And no matter what you do career-wise, you’ll have my support.”

“Thank you,” she said as they stopped outside an office. She noticed the name on the door said Elinor dun Broch and figured she knew what the conversation was about. “You’re offering her the job?”

“We already offered her the job. She’s already accepted. I just wanted to stop by and congratulate her,” he explained. “Everything is going to happen really fast from what I understand.”

“What about her children? Are her sons okay with moving halfway through the school year?” she asked.

He glanced at the door before lowering his voice. “From what I understand, she’s going to split her time between here and California until they graduate. They’re staying with some family while she’s gone.”

“I don’t know if I could do that,” Regina replied, trying to imagine being away from her children for such long periods of time.

Robin rubbed her arms, giving her a soft smile. “Everyone is different and different plans work for them. Hopefully we never have to face that scenario but if we do, I know we’d figure out what’s best for our family and ourselves.”

She smiled now, loving how he was able to comfort her. Regina hugged him, though her stomach kept her from getting as close as she would’ve like. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulled back and grasped the handle. Before turning it, he smiled at her. “I’ll only be a moment. There’s some chairs nearby if you need to sit though.”

He disappeared into Elinor’s office as she waddled down to the chairs. Sinking into one, she sighed as she rubbed her stomach. Both twins kicked at her and she smiled. “Your papa will back soon, little ones. And then we’ll get you some food.”

She leaned back against the seatback, still thinking about Elinor and her decision to split her time between the two coasts. Despite Robin’s reassurances, she still couldn’t help but wonder what she would do in such a situation. Regina knew what she was like as a nanny but she was still trying to figure out who she was as a mother. She called herself Roland’s mother but it still felt as if she were responding to him as his nanny than his mother, that she hadn’t changed anything. But she didn’t think she would respond to the twins the same way. Or maybe there was no difference between how she nannied and how she would mother. Maybe she had always just been treating Grace and Roland like her children.

All Regina knew was that she wouldn’t be able to tell until the twins were out of her womb and in her arms.

She glanced around at the table next to her and noticed that there were some job postings resting there next to a table tent that read Share with your family, friends and colleagues! Regina picked a couple up, looking them over. They certainly looked right up her alley, especially as she was looking to get back into finance. She was hesitant to join another company after Blanchard Financials but Sherwood was nothing like that place, so she knew she would enjoy working here if she so chose. While part of her wanted to get a job on her own merits and not because she was dating the CEO, she believed her experience and talent would speak louder than her connection to Robin. He wouldn’t be her direct supervisor either and while he technically would be paying her again, it would be for business work rather than to be his girlfriend and the mother of his children. It all seemed like a win-win scenario to her.

However, her due date was fast approaching and Dr. Ludgate had warned her that she would most likely go into labor early. Regina didn’t know if it would be fair to apply for a job she might not be able to take just yet or one she would start and then go out on leave. Perhaps it was best to take some of the courses Storybrooke University offered online, have her twins and then re-evaluate where she was once they were a few months old. Glancing over the jobs, she figured there would always be openings at Sherwood—she had no reason to rush.

“I really wish you the best of luck, Elinor,” Robin said, stepping out of the office. “Our loss is the West Coast’s gain though.”

Regina folded up the job postings and put them in her purse as he approached her. He smiled, holding out his hand. “Ready to go?”

She smiled, taking his hand. “Yes, I am. So are the twins. We are all hungry.”

“That won’t do,” he replied, helping her up. “We need to rectify that immediately.”

They laced their fingers together as they headed back to the elevator. Regina glanced around the different cubicles and offices on the floor, knowing one day she would report there as well. She was certain of it.

Continue reading on AO3 or Wattpad

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #the nanny oq

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Love, Snow

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 14050

Summary: Baz receives a secret admirer note, and starts the strangest correspondence with someone he doesn't know. How does he deal with this on top of his long standing crush on the football quarterback?

Read on AO3

AN: Confession: I misread one of my requests as "first kiss" and got too excited by this idea to re-check the request before I wrote 14k+ words. Oops. I'm very stupid. But hey I ended up writing a really fun AU and I still wanna share it so I'll publish it on it's own. I promise I'm still working on requests and will publish them asap. I hope this fic is a good enough explanation/apology for making those people wait. Very, very sorry. I hope you enjoy this for now :)

So this is like low tech "Love, Simon" and it's stupid but I love it. Also everyone is American because I really wanted the stereotype of "crushing on the high school football quarterback" for Baz. It's so stupid and cheesy I couldn't resist. Also big thank you to @carryonmylovelies for her unending support and the title.

———————————————-

Baz

“And that’s another touchdown, putting the score over with just 3 seconds to spare!” The student announcer shouts into a goddamn microphone. “Way to go #61, Simon Salisbury!”

Everyone jumps up and cheers. It’s way too loud. I wince, curling in on myself more. I do clap politely though. It was a good play. Even though this is just an exhibition game to kick off the year.

Salisbury rips off his helmet, throwing it up in the air with a triumphant shout. His bronze curls are sweaty and plastered to his forehead. He’s smiling in that way. Open mouthed, laughing, blue eyes sparkling. I savour it while I can, because soon all the other jocks crash into him in a big testosterone pile. They’re hollering like madman and congratulating Salisbury with pounds to the back. Christ, I hate how much I wish I was down there.

“Wow, Salisbury did a good job, again,” Niall chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter.

Dev glares at me. “Why do you come to these games if you’re always being such a downer, Baz?”

Because this is the only time I can stare at Simon Salisbury’s tight pants covered behind without anyone noticing, even if it is at a distance. I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m bored.”

“Oh, have you finally run out of books?”

I snort, pushing my glasses further up my nose. “I’m never out of books.”

“Yet here you are.”

I don’t answer that, because I don’t want to explain. I figured out I was gay three years ago, and I only finally accepted it six months ago. What’s even worse is that I’ve liked Simon for that long. Three years of pining after the most popular boy in school. Have I mentioned that my life is absolute hell?

The game slowly wraps up. The teams shake hands, the crowd slowly disperses, and I’m still sitting on the bench, just watching him. Of course he has to high five every single teammate before they go, and then he meets up with his friend. Despite Simon Salisbury being more popular than a lollipop in a daycare centre, his best friend is not another muscle bound jock. In fact, Penelope Bunce is actually my only legitimate academic rival. She has frizzy purple hair and glasses like a sassy librarian. Simon hugs her so hard she’s lifted off the ground. They laugh and smile together, and I’m so fucking jealous.

“Baz? You ready to go?”

I’m snapped out my daze by Niall. He looks at me with crossed arms and a raised brow.

“Yeah,” I reply, zipping up my coat, “let’s go.”

We walk down the bleachers. I can’t help but sneak one last look at Simon, with his arm around Bunce and a big dumb smile on his face. Fuck my life, I’m so screwed.

———————————————-

Watford High is like any other high school. Loud, smelly, and somewhere I desperately wish to escape everyday. I only like the academic aspect, and even that is occasionally lacking. I walk through it briskly, dodging other students on my way to my locker. I’m getting my algebra textbook when he decides to walk by.

“Hey, Baz!” Simon says with a grin as he walks by with Bunce. Why does he always do this? Taunt me with his perfectly messy hair and sunshine smile and big blue eyes? Of course he’s also wearing his letterman jacket that perfectly fits his broad shoulders.

“Hello, Salisbury,” I reply, keeping my voice very neutral, thank God.

“See you in English, yeah?”

“Yes, see you.”

He keeps walking. I (hopefully) subtly watch him keep doing. He’s saying something close to Bunce’s ear. It must be something stupid, because she immediately smacks him over the head. He pouts at her adorably. I rip my gaze away before I start blushing.

I’m pathetic. Here I am, mooning over a guy who I could never have. He’s popular, and a football jock, and straight. He was dating the bloody head cheerleader until the end of last year. He’d never be interested in me.

I walk as fast as I can to English and sit next to Niall as usual. Salisbury is sitting a few desks back with Bunce to his left. They’re murmuring over something. I do wonder what they’re talking about, but I focus on the front of the class. I won’t let my stupid crush affect my studies.

Soon enough, Ms. Possibelf starts her lecture. We’re studying Hamlet, something I’m already extensively familiar with thanks to my English Professor mother. I first read Hamlet when I was 12. I could do this in my sleep.

“And here we can interpret romantic undertones of Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship,” Ms. Possibelf says, pointing the quote on the slide.

“Ms?” One girls says, raising her hand and speaking before she’s actually called on. “I think it’s kind of silly to say Hamlet and Horatio were together. They were obviously just friends because gay people weren’t around back then.”

I raise my hand immediately. Ms. Possibelf gives me a look that’s both “yes, yes I know” and “don’t kill her, Basilton.” She does pick me though. “Yes, Baz?”

“Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship can be interpreted many ways, and romantic is certainly one of them. Considering that many scholars have theorised as such it’s a viable conclusion and something that should be presented to the class. Also, Shakespeare was very likely bisexual himself as he wrote sonnets that many believe were meant for male lovers. Which makes a romantic attraction even more possible. And finally, just because homosexuality was frowned upon in the era does not mean gay people were non-existent. To think so shows an ignorance of history.”

The girl gapes at me for a second, but it quickly becomes a glare. Others murmur and roll their eyes. Niall sighs but with a mildly impressed smile. I keep my back straight and head high. I’m at the top of the class, and I’m not afraid to show why. Mind you, that’s probably why my only friends are my cousin and the other boy I grew up with.

“Thank you, Baz,” Ms. Possibelf sighs, “you make excellent points. Now, let’s move on to the role of Horatio as the bard.”

She continues with the lecture. I ignore the constant death glare I’m getting from my history ignorant homophobe classmate. But I feel other eyes on me as well. A few desks back, from my left. Cautiously, I look slightly in that direction. Salisbury immediately looks up towards the ceiling, but he wasn’t fast enough. I know he was looking at me. Probably just to gape at the weirdo nerd like everyone else. My heart aches. Fuck, I despise my emotions being dependant on someone else, on Salisbury. I turn back to the board. If I can’t stop my own stupid feelings, I can at least ignore them.

———————————————-

I don’t see Salisbury for the rest of the day. English is the only class we share and he has football practice almost every lunch. It gives me fewer opportunities to look at him. I’m not sure that if that’s a negative or a positive, unfortunately. Before I know it, the day is over, and I’m free of this prison. I head towards my locker as fast as possible

“Hey man,” Dev says as he catches up with me, “still coming to my house, yeah?”

“Of course, it’s Friday. Got the good vodka?” I smirk at him. He rolls his eyes and nudges my shoulder.

“It’s never good and you know it, asshole.”

I open my locker, absentmindedly placing my textbooks inside. “Well, there better be salt and vinegars chips, or I’m-”

“Hey what’s this?” Dev picks up a piece of poorly folded lined paper, the only messy thing in my otherwise pristine locker. My name is written on the front in chicken scratch handwriting. He hands the strange thing to me. “Think this is for you, cuz.”

I pluck it from his hands, then unfold it with careful fingers. But I almost immediately drop the paper. The words on it warrant such a response.

Hey Baz I think your really cute :) - Snow

“Oh shit, man,” Dev chuckles, “you’ve got a secret admirer!”

Fuck. My. Life.

———————————————-

“I think you’re overreacting,” Niall sighs before taking another swig of the near empty vodka bottle. We’re going to need a new one next week.

“I am not,” I snap, “and stop hogging that thing, you vodka hogger.” He rolls his eyes and reluctantly passes the bottle. I take a good drink, head draped back over Dev’s spinning desk chair.

“It’s just a little note. Someone thinks you’re cute. That’s a good thing!”

“No it isn’t! It’s obviously some sort of prank, some idiot who think it’s funny to tease the class weirdo.”

Dev groans through a mouthful of chips. “If I hadn’t grown up with you, I’d wondered when you became so self deprecating. But I’m pretty sure you were born like this.”

I throw the bottle cap at his head. “Shut up, dickhead.”

He, in turn, throws a bag of Doritos at me. Jokes on him though, I’m hungry. I eat an unnecessarily large handful of his chips with unflinching eye contact. He glares at me from his bed.

“Look,” Dev sighs, “you’re overreacting, man. It’s probably just some freshman who’s too nervous to talk to you.”

“Like I want to talk to some freshman,” I grumble.

“Then just ignore it! Whoever it is will leave you alone. It’s just one note.”

My lips twist. I don’t like the idea of that. First of all, leaving it alone could give this Snow the wrong idea. What if she thinks I’m interested at all? That I think anything about this is cute? (Okay, it’s a bit cute. Even though Snow misspelled “you’re”) Secondly, I like to have the last word. Leaving it unanswered is like accepting defeat. And I never, ever accept defeat.

I turn in the desk chair to face Dev’s disgusting little Ikea desk. (Seriously, it’s white laminate and covered in food and pencil lead stains.) I take a piece of printer paper and a pencil. Time to start writing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Niall slurs from behind me.

“Crafting a response,” I reply.

“To a secret admirer note?!”

“Yes.”

From my peripheral, I can see Niall looking at me like a mad man. I ignore him. He flings his hands in surrender, walking towards Dev.

“Nope,” he says loudly. “I’m too drunk for this. Dev, you deal with him.”

“Why do I have to deal with him? I’m just as drunk as you are,” Dev groans. I ignore him as well and keep thinkin of what to write.

“He’s your cousin.”

“So just because we share blood, he’s my problem?”

“Yes.”

I growl and whip around in my chair. They’re sprawled on Dev’s bed with the vodka bottle between them. “Can you two stop talking like I’m not here?!”

Dev and Niall look at each, then back to me. They each take a long swig of the vodka and flop back down. They’re still speaking but quiet enough so I can’t hear. So I take that as, “no we won’t, but we’ll at least won’t be loud enough so you can hear.” I snort. They’re assholes, but they’re at least slightly considerate.

I go back to my letter. I’m not sure how long it should be. Long enough to convey my message I suppose. But what to say? Fuck it. I just start writing.

Dear Snow, Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not interested in a relationship. (Well, with anyone but a certain football player, unfortunately, but I can’t write that.) I hope you find someone who can return your affections. Have a nice day. - Baz

There, perfect. Concise, simple, and exactly what I need to say. I’ll have the final word. And whoever this person is will back off. My life is already a living hell, what with Salisbury and school and everything else, so I don’t need more stress. I fold it carefully and write “Snow” on the front.

“Done,” I say. “I’ll leave it in my locker grill tomorrow and hopefully Snow will find it and this will be finished.”

“I don’t understand you,” Dev grumbles.

“Just hand me the salt and vinegar chips, ass.”

I flop down on the bed with them, and we start discussing which teachers we want to stuff down a toilet. And I try not to think about the boy I’m crushing on or the girl who seems to be crushing on me. My life is getting really unnecessarily complicated.

———————————————-

I leave Snow’s note just slightly sticking out of my locker grate. Far enough out for the “Snow” part to be visible, but not too visible tath any old passerby will notice. I can only hope that the real Snow picks it up instead of some random asshole. I’m probably overestimating the inherent goodness of Watford students. I stare at the paper for a long moment, wondering if this is actually the right thing to do. But I know I haven’t gotten this far by questioning my intelligent decisions.

I walk away from the locker physically, but my mind is still slightly stuck there for the rest of the morning. Between every class, I let myself sort of wonder what’s going to happen. Will Snow be angry? Sad? Yell at me for breaking her heart? I don’t care. Well, I care a little. I’m not a monster. I’d feel bad for her. I know far too well what it’s like to want someone who doesn’t want you back.

Even in English, while I’m subtly looking at Salisbury, I wonder if someone is doing the exact same to me. I miss parts of the lecture because of it. This is not good. I hate being unfocused by something I can’t control.

And I’m certainly not walking past my locker on purpose, even though it’s nowhere near the cafeteria. There’s going to be no change there. No change at-

Except that the note is gone. And there’s a new one written on pink paper sticking out of the grate.

I don’t rush towards it of course, I have dignity. Slowly, and perfectly casually I take out the note. Part of it has been scribbled out hastily, and something else has been written in its place.

I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I just think you’re really cool and cute. I won’t leave anymore notes. I’m sorry I hurt you :( - Snow

Fuck. She thinks I’m cool? Me?! And who uses emojis in a written message? It’s sickeningly adorable. Whoever this Snow is, I sort of wish I could meet her. And maybe that she was a he. At least he would be more a possibility than Simon ever could be.

“What’cha got there, Baz?”

I jolt hard enough that I nearly bang my head against my steel locker. I stuff the note in my pocket.

“Nothing, Dev,” I reply. “What are you doing here? This is nowhere near the cafeteria.”

“Lost a pencil somewhere here.”

“Yeah, right. Come to see if my secret admirer left another note?”

He shrugs up to his ears. “Maybe. Wondering if you're stupid idea worked, too.”

“It's not stupid.”

“It's a little stupid.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Shut up.”

We walk together towards the cafeteria. I distract Dev by talking about our least favourite relative, so by the time we're there he's not even thinking about Snow or the note. He and Niall eat shitty grilled cheese together while I stew. Which is good, I don’t need their unhelpful input right now.

I look over Snow’s note again and again. It’s so...gracious. No anger or even self pity. She only cares how that she made me feel bad. So, Snow is a very nice person. That’s even more infuriating. And it feels wrong to just leave her hanging, letting her think she’s done some sort of irreparable harm to me. It was just a sweet note. It’s not her fault I’m gay and hopelessly in love with someone else.

I rip out a sheet from my notebook. The message comes easily enough.

Snow, Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me. I’m perfectly fine, and I did like your note. I simply have my own problems that are not your fault. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. The truth is that I’m..

I pause, pencil frozen over the paper. I’ve never announced anyone about my sexuality. Not even Dev and Niall. This feels weird. But...Snow should understand why it’s not her fault. She’s only been nice to me so far. I don’t want her to feel like it’s on her.

The truth is that I’m gay. So there was no chance to start with. I hope you can find someone that at least can be interested. - Baz

I fold it again. There, simple. I’ve just written down my second biggest secret for a stranger to read. A nice, gracious stranger, who seems to care about my feelings before her own. Who’s entire view of me hopefully won’t change with the knowledge I like men because she doesn’t really know me. And even if it does change, who cares? She’s not my friend, or my cousin, or my mother.

Yes, this is smart. Very smart...

———————————————-

Now that I know Snow responds to my notes, waiting is even worse. The afternoon goes by in a relative haze. I heard the lessons, but I don’t really absorb them. Everything post lunch seem irrelevant in comparison to the note. It’s not until the end of last period that something breaks me out of the fog. Or rather, someone.

“Hey, Pitch.”

I look up to Penelope Bunce. I’m a bit surprised. This is the first time she’s spoken to me in something that’s not during an intellectual argument in class. Though her tone is still calmly aggressive.

“Hello, Bunce,” I reply.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m...fine, how are you?”

“Fine.” Then she just glares at me. Well, half studying, half glaring. She’s looking at me up and down like I’m a specimen. What on Earth is her problem?

“Penny!” Salisbury rushes towards us, taking Bunce by the shoulders. He’s smiling brightly and apologetically. Wait, why is he here? This isn’t his class. I guess he’s here to escort Bunce. Or the universe is torturing me. Either is possible.

“Hey, Pen, we should go,” he says. He looks at me with his big smile and my heart melts into my shoes. “Hi, Baz! How’s it hanging?”

“I’m well, Salisbury,” I say, digging my nails into my palms under the desk to keep calm. “Bunce and I were apparently having a conversation.”

“Yeah, conversation.” The way Bunce says conversation makes me nervous. Her tone is colder than the Antarctic. What is her problem?!

“Oh awesome,” he chuckles awkwardly (it’s really cute), “but we have to go. Homework and stuff, right Penny?”

Bunce glares up at him. He raises his eyebrows and jerks his head towards the door. Either he really does need to go or he really wants to get away from me. Probably both.

“Fine,” she mutters, “let’s go. Bye, Basilton.”

“Bye Baz!” Simon says, running after her. I give one quick wave. What the fuck just happened? I’d say that was the weirdest that’s happened to me this week, but bizzare love note correspondence is still slightly above bizzarely tense conversation with your crush’s best friend.

I shrug it off, taking my books and going to my locker just like normal. But to my great surprise and reluctant delight, there’s a piece of pink paper sticking out of my locker. Slowly, carefully, I unfold it.

So you are gay? That’s cool, it’s really not a problem. Actually it’s great! I’m a guy. So if that’s the problem and you still want me to leave notes, I still think you’re cute <3 - Snow

Oh...this complicates things. But...

Fuck it.

Before I can overthink too much, I take out one of my post-it notes and scrawl my message across it. I don’t need full sheet of paper for this.

I wouldn’t mind more notes, I suppose. - Baz

I stick it in the grill and walk away, not even putting away my books. Fuck fuck fuck, what the hell am I doing? And why is my heart beating so fast?

———————————————-

It’s official: I have the weirdest pen pal in the world.

For the past week, Snow and I have followed the exact same pattern we created on that first day. I write something and leave it in my locker grate. He replies by the beginning of lunch, and I reply by the end. Then I pick up his final note at the end of last period. It’s a strange, silently agreed upon system. And it’s quickly become the highlight of my day.

I’m ignoring my sandwich in favour of reading the latest one.

Mr. Halvik really does sound like a nightmare! Who has you wander around with spot plates filled hydrochloric acid?! You could call him a PERIODIC failure :D (I don’t know science, forgive me.) I’ll punch his stupid face for you if you want. Omg I’m so glad I’ve got Ms. Reynolds. She gives us broken cookies at the end of class cause her husband is a baker who brings home the bad batches. I’m definitely not complaining. And hey, just wondering, what’s your fave food? Feels like something I should know :) - Snow

“Dev, he’s still smiling, I’m frightened,” Niall says with annoyingly exaggerated fear.

“Be not afraid child,” Dev replies. I flip them both off.

Niall tries to peer over at the paper, but I pull it away. “Are we not allowed to see your secret love notes?”

“Nope,” I say flatly. “Hence the ‘secret’ prefix. And they’re not love notes.”

“Yet you are smiling. You only do that when you’re reading something you love. So...”

“So, shut up.” I glare at him over my glasses. He doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t speak either. Good man. He knows when to leave something alone.

I flip open my notebook, and begin to pen my response.

Thank you for the sympathy, Snow, but I don’t think physical violence will be necessary. I’m waiting for the day someone burns their skin off with the acid. Then maybe Halvik will listen to my concerns. Broken cookies sound far, far better than potential chemical burns. If I had room in my schedule I’d certainly transfer to that class. To answer your question, truth be told, I have a massive sweet tooth. I love overly sugary coffee and mint aero bars. I wish I had one to go with my sandwich. And I’m wondering the same thing, what is your favourite food? - Baz

I sigh, reading it over for good measure. Each of our messages have gotten progressively longer. Mostly stupid jokes and complaining about teachers. This is the first time he’s asked something about my interests. I smile a bit more.

He hasn’t said anything about who he is, so I assume he doesn’t want to be known. Therefore, I’ve quashed my usually inquisitive spirit and haven’t asked. I don’t want to scare him away. Weird...I think I actually like him. But, what about Simon?

“Hey! Back off, dude!”

We all turn our heads towards the shouting. From where the three of us are sitting, we can see a man in a profile staring down the resident asshole who’s name I don’t bother to remember. Someone with bronze curls, a determined expression, and donning a letterman jacket. Number 61. Speak of the Devil, I suppose.

“Chill, Salisbury, we were just having fun,” asshole replies.

“Fun isn’t pushing some freshman around. Leave him alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or, I’ll do to you what you’re doing to him.”

There’s a long pause. The cafeteria is completely silent, everyone watching with bated breath. I grip my pencil incredibly hard. I know Simon can take care of himself, of course. (He’s the goddamn quarterback. He could flatten most people.) But my chest still aches, because I don’t want to see him get hurt or in trouble. I wish I could help him. Or at least have someone to hold my hand while I fret. Someone like Snow.

“Pfft,” the other guys scoffs, “whatever. You’re such a spoilsport, Salisbury.”

The idiot walks away with hands in his pockets. Simon glares at him as he walks away, then kneels down to help the freshman to his feet.

“Hey, you okay?” he says in his soft, perfect voice.

The boy nods. Simon flashes that sunshine grin, and my heart skips at least two beats. He’s such a hero. Always putting himself on the line for others. If we lived in a fantasy book, he’d be the protagonist, the mighty golden saviour. (I’d probably be the weird loner, or the dashing villain. I have the face for it.)

The freshman says his thanks and scurries off. Simon visibly sighs and puts his hands in his jacket. I can’t help but stare. He looks happy, relaxed, and- Oh shit he’s looking at me. His big blue eyes are staring right back at me, blinking in probable confusion. I immediately look back at my note for Snow, praying the heat in my cheek isn’t the blush I bet it is.

Maybe that’s why I like Snow. I can just read his words and edit my own towards him. No chance for awkward moments when all you have is paper. It’s easier, I suppose. Because I don’t even look back at Simon, but I keep looking at the paper. I really am a coward deep down.

———————————————-

I pick up Snow’s note at the end of the day, but I don’t read it until I’m alone on the bus. (Dev and Niall get off before me. And our usual Friday night get together has been cancelled on account of Dev’s procrastinated history essay.) It’s not that long. His final notes tend to be on the shorter side, leaving a new conversation for us to start tomorrow.

Oh man I love mint aero bars too. They’re fucking amazing. I hide them under my pillow because my mum thinks I eat too much candy too lol. But my favourite food is easy, sour cherry scones! Especially with lots of butter. My mum makes them. They’re my fave thing in the entire world. We eat them for dessert every Friday. Sorry if it’s too intrusive, but I’ve got another question, what’s your fave movie? I just wanna know all I can about you :D - Snow

Christ, as if my heart needs more strain after Salisbury’s near brawl today. It feels both scary and wonderful to have someone this interested in me. Even if it’s someone I’ve never met in person. And he’s offering information about his homelife, opening himself up. How is he so confident like that? I’ve never opened up to anyone, other than my family or Dev and Niall. But...if Snow can do it, so can I.

I start writing immediately.

I’ve never had a sour cherry scone, nor have I heard of them before, but they sound delicious. I’ll have to try one some time. I’m glad we can agree on mint aero bars. My friends think they’re disgusting but they’re obviously idiots. The questions are not intrusive by the way. I actually like them. On my favourite movie, I’m sorry to say it’s quite boring by normal standards. It’s not technically even a movie, but an hour long TV broadcast. It’s the BBC’s 1986 production of “Oedipus the King”. My mother is a professor of both English and Greek literature. She had me watch it far, far too young, so I used to be scared of it. But now I love it. We rewatch it constantly. I know, very boring. What’s your’s? - Baz

I fold it up, tucking the paper inside my bag, where it will remain until Monday. A hurricane of butterflies occupy my stomach. And it will remain there until Monday as well.

When the start of the school week actually rolls around, my brain is buzzing for all of class. I barely catch anything the teachers say. I only remember to look at Salisbury a couple of times in English. He’s furiously writing and rewriting something in his notes, mouth adorably twisted in determination. When he looks up at me, he smiles warmly, and I hastily go back to looking at my own notes. I know he’s just being polite, but still, I’m already occupied with thoughts of Snow. I don’t need more distraction.

As I’m walking to lunch, I see a large piece of paper sticking out of my locker. It takes all my self control not to run towards it. Cautiously, I open it. And as I read the first few sentences, I chuckle in disbelief and a fair amount of happiness.

That doesn’t sound boring at all! That sounds lit. I mean, I’ve never seen Oedipus, but kings are always great and I love Percy Jackson. If other people call you boring they’re fucking stupid. I’m def gonna watch it soon :D My favourite movie? Man, get ready for a long ass note.

He proceeds to write a mostly page long rant/analysis of “The Incredibles”, including lots of the emojis and some more personal information. And I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

Fuck, I think I have another crush.

———————————————-

How have you never read Harry Potter?! Holy shit you have had a deprived childhood! My mom first read me Harry Potter when I was 11. Tbh, it was her way of trying to make up for the fact that my dad wasn’t around. Not like she needed to. It wasn’t her fault the asshole left. But it doesn’t matter, Harry Potter is fucking awesome. I have every book. You should really get them. Btw, Oedipus is really cool but really fucking dark. Like damn, he married his own mother? He loses both his eyes!? Jeez the greeks were twisted motherfuckers. Still cool to watch though. Thanks for telling me about it :D Question: If you could go to space, where would you go? - Snow

Growing list of things I know about Snow: 1. He’s in Ms. Reynold’s science class. 2. His prefered joke is stupid pun. 2. He loves sour cherry scones because his mom makes them. 3. His favourite movie is The Incredibles because it’s “fucking brilliant”, and it was the first thing that made his mom smile after his dad left. 4. His father left when he was 11 to travel abroad and has never come back. Apparently he only sends birthday cards. Usually on the wrong date. 5. He’s plagued with almost as much insecurity as me, both from his father’s absence and general teenage anxiety over being good enough. 7. His favourite singer is Troye Sivan. 8. And now, he loves Harry Potter.

So eight things. Considering we only started exchanging weird letters two and half weeks ago, that’s pretty good. It’s more than I know about Simon, since all I know is that he plays football, he’s unbelievably attractive, and he stands up to bullies. Nothing about his favourite food or absentee father. Somehow, Snow feels more real even when I’ve never seen him in person.

I start my own response, hunched over my desk.

I’m sorry for my lack of young adult fantasy knowledge. I suppose since you’ve watched Oedipus, I’ll give Harry Potter a chance. I just read mostly philosophy and textbooks. Reading narratives has never been my thing. But I’ll try. I’m glad you liked Oedipus though. It is quite dark, but I think my mother is correct in that it’s one of the most important stories in western literature. She-

“Basil? It’s almost time for dinner, little puff.”

My head snaps up at my mother’s voice. Like always, she knocks twice before opening the door anyway. I stand up and hide the paper behind my back. She sticks her head through the door. Her curly black hair is piled on her head. The smile on her face is slight but still warm.

“Mother,” I sigh, “you’re supposed to ask to come in.”

“Sorry, sorry, I keep forgetting,” she says, still smiling. “Dinner is in a few minutes so finish whatever you’re hiding behind your back.”

I inhale sharply. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gives me an unimpressed look with her own grey eyes, another way in which we’re far too similar. “Basil, you’re not as subtle as you think you are. Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s truly worthy of that impressive blush you’ve been spotting for two weeks. Including right now.” I press a hand to my overheated cheek. Godammit. She grins smugly. “Dinner is soon. Please wrap it up.”

She closes the door with slam just hard enough to make me jump. Shit, well, I guess I’m not that sneaky. I huff and go back to my desk.

She’s very knowledgeable in those fields. Though she’s not as knowledgeable about me, I suppose. I’ve already told you I haven’t come out to her, but now I’m wondering if I should change that. We have a wonderful relationship and I just don’t want her to think of me differently. I don’t know what your sexuality and parental situation is like, but do you have any advice? I suppose that’s my question of this letter. Sorry if it’s asking too much. Also, I’d go to Mars, to study it and live there. I'd enjoy the quiet. - Baz

I fold up the letter before I can overthink it too much, as usual. Maybe it’s asking too much of Snow. Maybe he hasn’t come out either. But I suppose it’s worth asking. He’s the only one who knows about me and who could give advice. I don’t like needing it though.

“Baz! Dinner, now!”

I sigh, jumping up from my seat. “Coming, mother!”

———————————————-

“Homecoming? Blech.” Niall sticks his tongue out as we walk past the banner a student is hanging in the main hallway.

“Not into school spirit, Niall?” I ask with a smirk.

“Not in this case. Homecoming is just fake prom in September. And it’s not even celebrating the football game because the game has to be held later. Why is it being held later anyway?”

“Field cleaning issues,” Dev chimes in.

“That’s dumb.” He and Dev stop by their computer club room. They want to see if it’s actually worth their time, while I don’t care. “See ya after school, Baz. Your turn to buy the vodka!”

I nod once firmly. “See you.”

Then we’re split up, and I’m perfectly ble to speed walk to my locker. I’m still scared over what Snow is going to say. Maybe he won’t say anything at all. Maybe I’ve scared him off with my deep seated fears and insecurities. He just thought I was cute. He never asked for my bullshit.

I stop in front of my locker, and let out a long sigh of relief when I see a corner of paper sticking out of the grate. Good. Haven’t scared him off just yet. I grab the note and stick it in my binder. I’m alone this lunch, so I’ll be able to read it in peace at the library. I’m glad to not have Dev and Niall pestering me.

I turn the corner quickly, and immediately smack into something hard.

“Shit!” I shout, falling right on my ass.

“Ouch,” the other person grumbles. Crap, I know that voice, and I know that mess of bronze curls.

Simon looks up at me with those big blue doe eyes and my breath hitches. He gives me a big smile and I nearly asphyxiate. “Oh, hi Baz.”

“Hello, Salisbury,” I reply. “Practicing your football tackles in the hallway now?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, just not looking where I was going. Really sorry about that. Here let me help.”

He starts gathering up my books. When he reaches for my binder with Snow’s note, I make sure to snatch it quickly. It’s probably best for one of my crushes to not read my secret note to my other. Christ, what is my life?

We stand up at the same time. Salisbury hands me my books, which I kindly take. He just looks at me for moment, eyes roaming up and down. I can’t tell whether he’s actually looking at me kindly or I just want him to.

“So,” he says, “where are you off to, Baz?”

“Library,” I reply cooly.

“Oh cool! I’m headed that way too!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Were you not just heading the other way? Hence walking into me?”

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his feet. Almost as if he’s nervous. But Simon, perfect popular kid, can’t be nervous, especially around me. “Yeah, but I’m turned around. I’m told I have a terrible sense of direction.”

I tilt my head to the side, silently wishing to every God that Simon Salisbury wasn’t so damn adorable. “Alright, understandable.”

He looks back at up at me with his goofy grin. I start walking, and he follows. It’s better to walk side by side. That way I won’t be tempted to keep staring at his face.

“So how are you doing in English?” He asks with genuine interest.

“Fine,” I reply. “And you?”

“Eh, not great. I’m not that good at English. Or any subject, really.”

“Your infographic on chosen one heroes of fantasy last week was quite brilliant.” Shit, why did I say that? I’m so obvious. It was a good project though.

He chuckles, shrugging up to his ears. “Thanks. Penny helped a lot with it though. I’d flunk out of all my classes if it wasn’t for her. Then I wouldn’t be able to play football and that would be awful.”

I snort slightly. “Truly a fate worse than death, I see.”

“Yeah!” He replies without a hint of irony. “I love football. The game is fun and stuff but I also like the outlet y’know? Bashing and hitting stuff.”

“That’s how you feel better? Smashing into things?”

He shrugs again. “Yeah. I mean, people who tell you that slamming and bashing into things won't make you feel better haven't slammed or bashed enough.”

I snort again, and it turns into a laugh. He laughs as well. It sounds like happiness. “I’ll take your word on that. I’ve never played football.”

“Yeah, I guess you haven’t,” he chuckles. “Speaking of which, are you coming to the homecoming game?”

Shit. I freeze up, muscles in my shoulders tightening. A few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes without hesitation, because I could stare at Simon more. But now I have Snow in my head as well. It feels like going to that game would be, betraying Snow almost. Or at least forgetting him favour of someone else.

“I’m not sure,” I reply genuinely. “Possibly.”

“Oh...” Surprisingly, Simon sounds disappointed. Why? Why is my presence important?

“It’s just that I may have school work to do. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Not going to the dance either?”

I would, if someone in particular asked me. “Probably not,” I say truthfully.

“Oh, cool. I might go, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have to go? Being the quarterback and all.”

He shrugs again , Christ, he does that a lot. “Technically yes. But I don’t know if I’ll want to. Not sure I want to Penny and her boyfriend’s third wheel. Have to go to the game though, obviously.”

“Of course. They’d lose without you.” Oh fuck, oh fuck, I said that before thinking. Shit, I hope the slight blush I can feel isn’t too obvious. I keep my head down in a futile attempt to hide it.

“Thanks,” he says. “Uh, here’s the library.”

I look up. He’s right. There’s the library sign. “Oh, so it is. Suppose I should go...study.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shuffles his feet again, and it’s still painfully cute. He runs a hand through his hair too. I can’t help but think about how much I want to do that myself.

“Well, goodbye, Salisbury.” I turn on my heels and start walking briskly. The sooner I’m away from Simon, the sooner my heart slows down and I can think properly.

“Hey, Baz,” he calls out. I look back at him without thinking. He’s chewing on his lip. And when he speaks, it’s stalling with a slight stutter. “Um, y’know I...I’m, um. I...” He sighs, shoving his head in his letterman jacket. “I just, it’s been nice talking to you. I-I hope you do come to the game. It’ll be fun.” He looks down. “Uh, I’ve gotta go. Have fun studying, bye Baz.”

He speed walks off, leaving me standing there very confused. That was one of the strangest conversations of my life. Was Simon actually nervous? No, he’s always so confident. Must be a fluke, a bad day. And...he hopes I come to the game? Why? I’ve been to most of his games. Does he think I’m some good luck charm? Or...does he really want me there?

I go into the library. It’s mostly empty. I take a seat on one of the couches, knees pulled up to my chest. I take out Snow’s note, slowly unfolding it.

Don’t beat yourself up too much, Baz. Coming out is hard. It took me ages to tell my mum and she’s probably the most accepting woman on the planet. It’s about putting yourself out there, and that’s always scary. Why do you think I’m leaving you notes with an anonymous name instead of just saying hi? It’s terrifying to put yourself on the line. But I think you can do it. Maybe you don’t come out to your mum first though. Maybe start small. Tell your friends? That might be easier. I don’t know, it’s up to you. But just know that I believe in you. I know your braver than me. You can do it. You’re brave. - Snow

I fold it up again carefully, taking a deep breath. Could I do it? Be brave? Maybe, if Snow believes in me. One person. Is that all it takes? It feels like it. As if this strange day could get any stranger. I start writing my response.

I’ll think about that. It may be easier. Hell I think I could do it today. But just for the record, I think you’re brave. You’ve opened up to me in these letters and that takes guts. Just because I don’t know your name doesn’t mean I don’t know you. Sure, you could be playing me, but this seems like a very long con for a high school student. You’ve already put yourself on the line a lot. I hope you personally feel more brave soon. Because I already think you are. - Baz

I tuck the note away in my binder, then lean back in my seat with my eyes closed. Today is too much to process. First Salisbury and his oddness, now Snow and his kind words. How can I be so happy and so conflicted all at the same time?

———————————————-

“C’mon hurry up, Baz!” Niall shouts. “I wanna get buzzed!” A teacher glares at him, and Niall smiles apologetically.

“I’m coming,” I yell back. “Hold your horses, Jesus.” I pluck out Snow’s final note of the week. It’s the shortest one he’s left me since the first one. And it only says a few words.

Good luck :) <3 Snow

And I smile.

———————————————-

“Fuck Ronaldo, marry Messi, kill Rooney,” Dev says, counting off the soccer players on his fingers.

“What?!” Niall snaps. “Why kill Rooney?! He’s an amazing player!”

“He’s also an asshole.”

“No he isn’t!”

“Yes, he is,” I interject, trying to push my glasses up before they inevitably slide again. We’re all laying down with our heads hanging slightly off the edge of my bed. The vodka bottle is partially empty and abandoned on the floor. “He insults everyone on the field and got arrested for drunk driving.”

“Lots of people have done both,” Niall grumbles.

“Yes, and lots of people are jerks. Keep up, Niall.”

My friend grumbles and stuffs more Doritos in his mouth. Dev snorts, earning orange chips getting thrown at his face. I pick at my nails. I keep repeating Snow’s words in my head. You can do it, you can do it, you’re brave.

“Hey, guys,” I say shakily, sitting up so they can only see my back. I need to hide my face right now. “I, uh, have to tell you something.”

“Is it that you stole my teddy when we were five and blamed it on Niall? Cause I already know.” I flick Dev’s foot and he snickers.

“Shut up.” I do a deep inhale and exhale, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to will my hands to stop shaking.

“I’m gay.”

Everything is silent. I’m holding my breath, and Dev and Niall haven’t said anything. They haven’t run off or yelled at me, so I suppose that’s good. I’m really not sure how this is supposed to go.

“Okay,” Niall says slowly, “cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” Dev unhelpfully adds.

I whip around to face them. They look completely neutral. Anxiety bubbles in my stomach. “That’s it? ‘Cool’? Do you have anything else to say?”

Dev furrows his brow. “What else should we say?”

“I don’t know! Are you mad? Hurt? Disgusted?”

Niall sits up, and his look of concern twists at my heart. “Do you...want us to be or something?”

I sigh, hanging my head and rubbing my eyes behind my glasses. “No, I suppose not. I guess it’s just what I expected. Happens when you’ve been stewing in internalised homophobia for three years.”

“You’ve been sitting on this for three years?” Dev says, also genuinely concerned. “Shit man, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just fucked up.”

“Hey, don’t worry, we’re all fucked up in our own ways. We can just be fucked up together.”

I look at both of them. They’re smiling, filled with equal mischief and kindness. Behind all the teasing and prodding, they truly are good friends. I’m glad to have them.

“I suppose being fucked up together is more fun than fucked up alone,” I say smoothly

Dev slaps my back hard enough to make me cough. “Exactly!”

Niall reaches down off my head and brings up the vodka bottle. He holds it up high. “To being fucked up!” He takes a swig and passes it to Dev.

“To Baz being gay!” He says before his swig.

I roll my eyes and snatch the bottle. “To friends.”

The two of them chuckle as I drink. We fall back down on the bed, staring up at my ceiling. I truly feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. They know, and they’re okay. I’m okay. The whole world has not imploded because I’m queer. What a novel concept.

“Hang on,” Nial says, “that person you’ve been exchanging weird letters with, is that a guy? Do you like him?!”

Okay, now my world is imploding.

I groan and cover my face. Niall laughs loudly. “You do like him!” he shouts.

“Maybe,” I grumble. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he looks like!”

“Well, do you want to know?”

I shift uncomfortably, arms crossed over my chest. “Maybe. I like writing to him. What if meeting face to face ruins everything?”

Niall shrugs. “You’ll never know if you don’t see him. Is he worth the risk?”

I sigh and close my eyes. I know the answer, but I hate that it’s so obvious. “Yes, I think he is.”

“Then you should see him. I support you! Go gays!”

“Please don’t say that ever again.”

“How about ‘pro homo’?” Dev chimes in with a shit eating grin.

“Nope, that’s even worse.”

“How about-” I slap a hand over Niall’s mouth.

“I’m just going to stop you right now.”

Both of them start snickering. I roll my eyes and get up to go to my desk, leaving the two laughing straight boys to their potato chips. There’s something I need to write down.

Well, I just told my friends, and it went well. They’re okay with it and are already teasing me mercilessly like usual. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without you. You make me feel brave, Snow. You’re quite amazing. Thank you, very much. I do hope to meet you someday. Sincerely, Baz

I refuse to use a heart, and ‘love’ feels like too much right now. But I am very sincere. I fold up the note and stuff it in my school bag for Monday. Dev and Niall haven’t moved an inch, still stuffing their faces with junk food.

“How are you both still hungry after dinner?” I ask.

“I’m a bottomless pit,” Niall says through a mouthful of cheese puffs. “And y’know, come to think of it, it actually makes sense that you’re gay.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Oh really? Do I look gay or something?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You’ve just never looked twice at a girl. I always thought you were just snobbish and picky.”

“Well, I am. Just not about women. Mostly about books.”

“Duh. I already know that.”

“Maybe you’re book-sexual,” Dev interjects with a giggle.

“I don’t want to screw books.”

“Now that would be a nasty papercut!”

We all burst out laughing. And it feels like that no matter what happens with my mother or Snow or Salisbury, I’ll be alright.

———————————————-

Leaving this note in my locker is very nerve wracking. I’m so distracted all morning. Ms. Possibelf’s words go right over my head. It takes me ages to notice Salisbury staring at me. When I flick my eyes over to him, he immediately looks away. What’s up with him? Keeping an eye on his football good luck charm? I wish he’d leave me to stew in anxiety in peace.

Second period is even worse. I’m jittery as fuck, leg bouncing underneath my desk. Dev kicks me in an attempt to stop it, but that doesn’t help at all. And my mind is still swirling when the bell rings. I’m off down the hallway at a very, very brisk pace. As I’m walking, I vaguely notice Salisbury running very fast down the hall. Huh, must be late for football practice.

I stop in front of my locker and...there’s no note. What the fuck?

“Huh, mystery man hasn’t left a note?”

I jump slightly at Niall’s sudden appearance. “When the fuck did you get here?”

“I saw you and literally walked just behind you. You’re so oblivious right now, dude.”

“Shut up.” I glare at the locker, like this is all it’s fault. “Do you think I freaked him out or something?

“Well, if he did get scared off, then he’s a fucking idiot and doesn’t deserve you.”

I turn to face, a half smile pulling up my mouth. “You really think that?”

He rolls his eyes. “Duh, of course. You’re my best friend.”

“Hey! What about me?” Dev strolls up next to us, looking mock offended.

“I can have two best friends, can’t I?”

Dev shrugs and bumps their shoulders together. “I suppose so. Now, can we go eat? I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” I sigh, “I’m hungry too.”

We walk off down the hall together. I look at my empty locker once more, and a storm of worry swirling in my gut.

Lunch passes the time quite well, It’s easy to fall into easy conversation with Dev and Niall. We talk about teachers, homework, soccer players, as usual. They do a good job of making me forget about Snow. But out of the corner of my eye, I can’t help but notice Penelope Bunce glaring at me. Even when I turn to look at her she keeps staring. What’s her problem now? I know we’re both vying for top of our class but I’m not sure that deserves such an intense death glare. It’s not my fault I’m brilliant.

Afterwards, the three of us walk down the hall, deep in a heated discussion about Ronaldo’s next season.

“I swear,” I say, “he’s going to break his record this year.”

“Uh, Baz-” Dev says from just behind me.

“Don’t fight me on this, Dev, I know I’m right.”

“Baz-”

“He’s doing far too well for anything else to happen!”

”Baz!”

I spin on my heels to face him. “What?! I’m trying to make a point here, let me finish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I assumed you’d want to stop for that. ” He points to his left. I look, and I nearly drop my books.

Right on my locker, for everyone to see, someone has taped a single rose. And there’s an envelope sticking from the grate underneath.

I walk towards it slowly, like approaching a ferocious animal. I take the rose off first. It looks fresh, obviously bought just today. The petals are still as red as blood. Still slowly, I take the envelope. It hasn’t even been sealed. But I recognised the chicken scratch handwriting across the front that says “Baz.” With shaky fingers, I take out the paper. It’s folded in thirds. When I open the top, the words are short and direct.

I want you to meet me too, and I’ll do you one better than someday. Go to homecoming with me? :) Love, Snow

The last third of the paper falls open, and a homecoming ticket is taped to the bottom.

“Holy shit,” Dev whispers.

“Oh my god,” Niall oh so helpfully adds in.

“Looks like you’re going to homecoming, dude.”

I don’t reply, because my brain has completely short circuited.

———————————————-

Three days. It’s been three days since Snow left his invitation. Homecoming is tomorrow. And yet, I still haven’t responded.

I’m sitting on my bed, staring at Snow’s rose, turning it over in my hand. What the hell am I supposed to do? There’s no social protocol for how to respond to your anonymous secret admirer asking you to a school dance. And there’s certainly no instruction manual on how to deal with being conflicted over your anonymous sort of crush and your three year long one. I just wanted to meet him, not go on a date with him. At least, not yet. Niall and Dev think I should say yes, but they don’t know about Salisbury.

This is all so annoyingly complicated. I’ve liked Salisbury for years, ever since I first realised I liked boys period. But now here’s Snow. Someone I’ve never met, yet I know so much about him and he knows so much about me. I suppose I finally have to choose one. But is there even a choice? When one of them is impossible and the other is literally offering to take me out? It seems obvious. Yet...here I am.

“Basil? Are you still up here, sweetheart?” My mom says through the door.

“Yes, Mom,” I reply.

“You missed dinner.”

“Sorry. I’m still not feeling well.”

There’s a short pause. I can just barely hear her sigh. “May I come in?”

Shit. I put the rose under my sheets. “Y-Yeah, sure.”

She opens the door and walks in gracefully, as usual. Her hair is tied up, and there are food stains on her shirt from where my baby brother probably tossed food on her. She sits on the edge of my bed, hands folded in her lap.

“Feeling any better?”

I shift uncomfortably in place. I don’t like lying to her. “A bit. Just...worrying about things.”

She moves closer, putting a hand on on my blanket covered knee. “You know you can talk to about anything, right sweetie?”

I chew on my lip. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, if I may be so bold, does this ‘worrying’ have anything to do with those notes you’ve been writing?”

Oh fuck. I inhale sharply. When I look at her, she’s just smiling. It’s simple and kind but doesn’t stop my rapidly beating heart. “How did you know?”

“I accidentally found one.” She takes a crumpled piece of paper out of her sweatpants. “I was cleaning up, and it must’ve fell out of your bag. I only read the first sentence, I swear. Once I realised it was something for you I stopped.”

I take the paper. Yes, it’s one of Snow’s notes. But an innocuous one, thank God. It’s just him gushing about how much he loves Troye Sivan. Luckily, my mother is not up to date on pop culture and won’t know what someone liking Troye Sivan tends to mean.

“Oh...” is all I manage to get out.

“Have you been passing notes in class?” She says slyly. “I hope you haven’t been ignoring your teachers, Basil.”

I chuckle. My mother, always the academic. “No, not in class.” I look at my lap, fingers fidgeting. “It’s, actually been in my locker. We leave them there for each other. Sorta giving letters back and forth.”

“Ah, I see. Very...unusual.”

“Yeah, I know. It started as a secret admirer note and sort of weirdly spiralled from there.”

“Secret admirer?” She moves closer, grinning wide. “So someone likes you?”

Fuck. I can feel my stomach churning. My fingers fidget frantically. I keep looking down, because looking right at her would be too overwhelming. I know what I’m going to say, but it takes a few moments for me to find the courage. But I’m brave. At least, someone told me I am, and I want to believe him.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, “he does. And...I like him too.”

There’s a long silence. This feels a lot worse than Dev and Niall, and a lot scarier. I’m still as statue, just waiting for my own mother to either reject or accept me.

“Oh,” she replies, voice also low, “it’s a he?”

“M-hm.”

“And...you like ‘hes’?”

It’s strange to hear my usually eloquent and quick tongued mother speak so cautiously. “Yeah, I do.”

“I see. Do you...only like ‘hes’?”

I curl my lips in, and nod slowly. Christ, I feel I’m going to throw up. I’m even picking at my nails, something I haven’t done since I was eleven. But I’m so damn nervous I can’t help it. Suddenly, I see a pair of slender hands wrap around my own, stopping my assault on my skin. She holds them firmly, and it certainly feels reassuring.

“It’s okay,” she says. I can almost hear her smile. “Baz, it’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry, I’m not upset, I never would be. I love you, no matter what.” She tilts my chin up. Yeah, there’s her smile, and I’m very relieved. “You’re still my little puff, who loves playing the violin and debating Greek philosophy with me until you’re blue in the face.”

I chuckle and squeeze her hand. She squeezes back, then tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. She’s been doing that since I was small. I sigh in comfort and relief.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just, I didn’t know how. And I wasn’t sure-”

She immediately wraps her arms around me. I hug her back tightly. “Sh sh, it’s alright, Baz. It’s okay, little puff. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you. Of course I’m not mad. I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me now.”

I embarrassingly sniffle. I’m fucking crying, because I’m more pathetic than I realise. I don’t know why. Relief? Happiness? Repressed pain? Who fucking knows. Mom pulls back and holds my face. She wipes away my stupid tears with her thumbs. Because she’s always such a mother. And a good one at that.

“Thanks for understanding,” I say weakly.

She laughs softly and smiles wider. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. Now,” she claps my shoulders, “tell me about this secret admirer.”

I groan, head tilting back. Of course. She’s a mother, which makes her naturally nosy. “Mom, please.”

“C’mon! You said that you’ve been exchanging notes with him? Is he nice? Should I get dinner ready for him?”

“Well, don’t get cooking yet, Mom. I don’t know who he is, really. Hence the ‘secret’ thing.”

She sighs, tucking my hair again. It does feel quite comforting. “Well, if he makes you happy and you like him, then maybe he shouldn’t be secret.”

I twist my mouth. Unfortunately, she’s right. Snow does make me happy, he’s more of a possibility than Simon, and I want to meet him, more than anything. Plus, y’know, I do love to wear suits.

“I guess,” I chuckle, “I’ve got to write something.”

“Okay. Want me to heat something up for you?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

She grins and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re welcome, honey. I hope this all works out for you.”

With one last hand squeeze, she leaves my room. I let out a long sigh of relief. Man, that went way better than I thought it would. I want to tell Snow about it. And I suppose I can, tomorrow at homecoming. I pull a sticky note from my bedside, and I write three words.

Yes Love, Baz

———————————————-

I pace back and forth in front of the school. I keep checking Snow’s note from lunch over and over again to make sure I got it right.

Meet me at the south entrance at 7:30

Well, my phone says it’s 7:34, so Snow is late. I try to suppress my worry, fiddling with my sleeves and tie instead. It’s my favourite suit, because I'm the kind of person who has a favourite suit. Greenish black with a bit of silver with a blood pink tie. I hope Snow likes it.

Ugh, my feet hurt. I sit down on the bench, staring at my jittering shoe. Maybe he won’t come and I’ll just sit here forever. Maybe I’ll just die here. Honestly, that would be perfectly okay with me right now. Saves the embarrassment of waiting for a boy to never show up.

“Hey,” a breathless voice says from above me.

Wait, I know that voice. I’ve had it’s tone memorised since I was 15.

I look up to find a pair of plain blue eyes, with soft bronze curls hanging in front. Despite being breathless and a bit sweaty, he looks good. Actually, he looks positively stunning in that grey suit.

“Good evening, Salisbury,” I say smoothly.

“Hi, Baz.”

That’s all he says, then he just stares at me. What is his problem? “Um, I’m sorry I can’t talk right now. I’m waiting for someone.”

He bites his bottom lip. I wish I didn’t find that cute. “Yeah,” he sighs, “I know.”

My eyes narrow in confusion. What? Why would Simon know I’m waiting? Only way he would is if...

Oh.

Oh my god.

If I wasn’t already sitting down, I would be falling over right now. The world is sort of spinning. I’m just staring blankly at Simon, mouth open wide enough to catch flies.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, “you...you’re Snow.”

He smiles sheepishly, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah. Surprise.”

I keep gaping at him. It’s all I can manage to do. Simon Salisbury is Snow. My secret admirer and long standing crush are one and the same. I just simply can’t believe it. My worlds are colliding in the weirdest, most amazing ways possible. I’m so stunned that I barely notice Simon sits down next to me.

“Hello? Earth to Baz. You okay there?” He chuckles.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the shocked fog my brain is clouded in. “Yeah, I’m just...I’m a bit astonished. Just, you like me?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought the ‘I think you’re cute’ note and all the ones after made that clear.” His wide, smug grin is so annoyingly attractive.

“But why?!” I blurt the words out before I realise it. I’m still too stunned and confused, as well as filled with the usual self loathing times a hundred.

He goes wide eyed and scoffs in disbelief. “‘Why?’ I mean, God Baz, why not? You’re fucking incredible! You’re like, the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. But don’t tell Penny I said that.” We both chuckle, then he sighs, running a hand through his wild hair. “You’ve always amazed me with that big brain and sharp tongue of yours. And when you tore down that homophobic girl in class? I was so blown away that I wanted to run up and talk to you after class but I was so damn nervous. I-I’m not great at talking, and it just gets worse around you. And I still wasn’t sure you liked guys, and it would be a disaster if you didn’t. So...”

“So, you left the note?”

He sighs, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It started as a joke from Penny, but then the idea got into my head and, well, I’m very impulsive. I didn’t expect you to...y’know, respond. Then I guess it became easier talking to you on paper when you didn’t know who I was than in person. I just, I get so flustered around you because you’re so cool.”

Both my brows shoot up to my hairline. “You actually think I’m cool? You...weren't kidding in the second note?”

“Uh, yeah!” He looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re so cool and brilliant and, like, fucking beautiful.” His cheeks go very red. “Or, handsome, I guess. Gorgeous? Just...I mean that I like to look at you. Too much actually. Penny finds it annoying in English class.”

I think about every time I looked away from Simon, to look at the board or talk to Niall. And now I imagine him staring at me every one of those times. As well all the times I thought he was gaping at the weirdo. He was never gawking, he was gazing at me, just like how I gaze at him. The thought makes my stomach do wonderful, terrifying backflips.

I realise I’ve been gaping at him for an inordinate amount of time, and Simon now looks incredibly nervous. His whole face is completely scarlet and he’s staring at his wringing hands.

“Look,” he says with a nervous timbre, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I tried once before, when I dropped you off at the library, but I chickened out. The stupid notes were just going so well and I was terrified I’d ruin it if you knew it was me. I’ve liked you since last year, hence why me and Agatha broke up, and I didn’t want it to end. I know you think I’m just some dumb jock. If you don’t want it to be me, I understand. I’ve been hiding from you all this time and that’s shitty. Just, you said you wanted to meet someday, and I decided to take a stupidly big chance because I was so excited. But if you’re not interested or you’re mad I get it, and I’ll go.”

He’s jittery, eyes darting from me to the ground, foot bouncing up and down. Holy shit. He’s actually nervous. For years, Simon has been this unattainable perfect golden boy. But here he is, anxious and scared as all fuck, and I realise he’s just another awkward teenage boy. Just like Snow told me. Which means, all this time, Simon Salisbury has been just like me.

With all of this absurdity, I can’t help but laugh. A short breathy chuckle, that turns into a loud howl. I double over holding my forehead. When I look up, Simon is looking at me strangely. Some mixture between confusion and sadness.

“Did, did I say something funny?” He asks like he’s actually not sure, but is expecting a bad answer.

I sigh. Christ, this boy is adorable. I take both his hands in mine. He inhales sharply but doesn’t pull away. “Simon, I’m absolutely, positively fine with it being you. As a matter of fact...” I gulp down the nervous lump in my throat. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was 15.”

His beautiful eyes bulge out, and his grip tightens. I watch his jaw fall open so wide he’ll catch flies. “You’ve had a crush on me? S-Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“On me? Simon -me?”

“M-hm.”

“Not just Snow?”

“Nope. I was actually agonizing for days over whether or not to accept your invitation and give up on, well, also you. Guess all that angst was for nothing.”

We both giggle. I want to make it my mission to hear him giggle everyday. Simon lets one of my hands go, but laces our fingers together with the other. His fit perfectly between mine. It feels unimaginably incredible.

“What big messes we both are,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, “I suppose we match.”

“I really think we do.” He sighs again, rubbing his neck and messing with his curls. “Wow, just...well, you asked me so it’s only fair I can to.” He looks me right in the eye unflinchingly. “Why the hell do you like me? Simon, not just Snow.”

I smile as kindly as I can. “Because I don’t think you’re just a dumb jock. You’re kind, brave, smart, and gorgeous to boot.” He looks very cutely bashful at that. “The notes just let me get to know you better and make me like you more, even if I didn’t know it. I found that Snow was very nice, interesting person through them. But I’ve also been pining after you, Simon, for years. I just didn’t think I ever had a chance. I didn’t even realise you were gay.”

He shrugs with a sheepish look. “Well, I don’t think I’m gay. Not totally. But I know I like you a lot. So I guess I like guys, but honestly it’s mostly just you.”

“Wow, I’m so honoured,” I say, only half kidding.

Simon grins, wide and filled with teeth. Suddenly, he stands, pulling me up along with him. “So, wanna get in there? Rhys is DJing and I asked him to play some Troye.”

I run my fingers over the back of his freckled hand, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “You sure? Everyone will know, that you’re- well, that you’re at least somewhat gay.”

“There go my job prospects.” I give him a deadpan look, and he sighs and tilts his head to the side. “Don’t worry, okay Baz? I’ve wanted you for quite awhile, so as long as I’m doing gay stuff with you, I really don’t care what anyone else thinks. Are you good?”

I smirk, then tug his hand to pull him closer. “I’ve wanted you for even longer. So yes, with you, I’m good.” I reach for his face, and when he doesn’t pull away, I cup his cheek, swiping over one of his beautiful moles. “You make me brave, Snow.”

He flushes down to his neck, and I’d tease him if I wasn’t pretty sure I was in the same state. We both smile, then walk towards the entrance.

The gym is decked out in green and purple, the school colours. I think it’s quite ugly, honestly. Even though the shitty dance music is deafeningly loud and the bustle should be distracting, everyone turns to look at us. I can feel all their wide eyes on our joined hands. I’m overcome with urge to run away, to avoid their prying gaze. But then Simon squeezes my hand, just once, and I feel okay.

“Want some punch?” Simon shouts over the music.

“Yeah,” I reply, “that would be great.”

We walk over to the table covered in drinks and food. Simon scoops some of the red liquid into two cups. He clinks our plastic together like we’re fancy or something. I chuckle. Yeah, this is nice. I like this a lot.

“Holy shit!” Two people next to us say.

Simon looks very confused. I’d be angry if I didn’t know those voices. “Hello, Niall. Hello, Dev,” I sigh.

The two look between us in utter disbelief. Their jaws practically on the floor. It’s quite funny.

“Mystery guy is Simon Salisbury?!” Dev says.

“Yeah,” Simon replies with his sunshine smile. “Hi, Niall and Dev. Nice to actually meet you.”

“Wow,” Niall chuckles. “You accidentally nabbed the quarterback, man. Nice.”

Simon laughs good naturedly. I scoff and knock his shoulder. Dev gives me a nice but slightly painful slap to my back. They’re such an assholes. Supportive and wonderful, yes, but assholes all the same.

The song changes to something slow. I recognize it as one of my aunt’s favourites, Nick Cave’s “Into My Arms.” Dev and Niall rush off to find their dates. I put down my glass, and look up to see Simon down his in one gulp. He tugs me towards the dance floor, and I follow, trying to not explode because I’m about to dance with Simon fucking Salisbury. Shit, I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.

It becomes quickly apparent that Simon doesn’t know how to dance. He lifts his arms towards me, then quickly drops them. I sigh with a mock exasperation. I take one of his hands in mine and wrap the other arm around his waist. He inhales sharply, and his eyes go adorably wide.

“Put it on my shoulder,” I whisper.

Simon nods and complies. His hand feels unnaturally heavy to me, as my brain is still fully processing the unbelievable reality that Simon wants to touch me. That he wants to be this close to me in something other than my imagination. The song is so soft that we barely have to move. I don’t mind. Not when the literal boy of my dreams in only a few inches away.

My eyes catch something over Simon’s shoulder. Well, someone. A short purple haired girl with sassy librarian glasses and a deep scowl definitely directed at me.

“Your friend is glaring at me,” I say close to Simon’s ear.

Simon looks not so subtly behind him and sighs heavily. “Yeah, sorry about that. Penny is still trying to accept that I like you. She thinks you’re an asshole.”

“Well, she’s right, I am.”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I know. But you’re also really smart and pretty.”

“Oh thank you.” I try to sound sarcastic, but my voice still cracks with embarrassment. Simon notices if hia smug smile is any clue. “Was her dislike of me the reason for that strange conversation in last period weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” he sighs with affectionate exasperation. “She’s overprotective. I think she was trying to intimidate or glare you to death for brushing me off. Didn’t work obviously, since you didn’t know I was Snow.”

“Hm, I suppose. Wouldn’t have worked even if I did know.”

“Well, neither of us knew that at the time, now did we?”

We quietly giggle for a moment. Simon sighs, and lets his head fall on my shoulder. I try not to tense up from shock and elation. I let myself relax, just sinking into the sensation of Simon’s head resting on me and the soft melody of the song. But one thing is still bothering me.

“Hey, Simon?” I whisper.

“Hm?” He doesn’t move off my shoulder.

“Why did you go by ‘Snow’? Seems strange.”

“Oh.” He pulls back, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “It’s, uh, actually my middle name.”

I can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Your full name is Simon Snow Salisbury? Seriously?”

He chuckles, cheeks going red. “Yeah, blame my Mom. She thinks everyone in our family needs a weird middle name.”

“Obviously.” He looks embarrassed, and of course my heart twists. I sigh and push a curl off his forehead. “I’m not one to talk though, what with the name Tyrannus.”

Simon snorts this time. “Yeah you’re really not.”

We go quiet again. Simon’s blue eyes roam over my face, and my pulse picks up when I notice them focus on my mouth. Fuck, I’ve spent three years thinking about that, but that’s a very far cry from it actually happening. I gulp own the lump in my throat.

“Is it my turn to ask you something now?” he says quietly.

“I suppose,” I reply, trying to control my voice.

He looks me right in the eye. “Can I kiss you?”

I take a deep breath, squeezing his hand a bit tighter than probably necessary. “Simon, I-I certainly want to, but just so you know...I’ve never, done that, before.”

His face morphs into an adorable lopsided smile. He slowly moves his fingers across my shoulder over and over. I can’t suppress the shudder that runs down my spine. “That’s okay. It’s actually pretty cute.”

I scoff. “I’m not cute, I’m hot.”

“Oh, very.”

That only increase my terrible blush. He’s still looking at me with his sweet, understanding face. And it sort of obliterates all my defences. “Truthfully, Simon,” I say quietly, “I’ve just been waiting. I’ve...only ever wanted to kiss you. Pathetic, I know.”

“Hm, not pathetic. Still very cute.” He curls his fingers around the back of my neck, taking a miniscule step closer. Christ, he smells incredible, like something brown and sweet. “So, can I kiss you?”

I take a small breath, trying to steady my nerves. I let my eyes slide shut and lean a bit closer. My voice is barely a whisper between us. “Yes.”

My heart is pounding in my ears. I stay there, waiting. The seconds stretching out impossibly long. I almost pull back, embarrassed at my stupid eagerness and teenage fantasies.

But then he kisses me.

Is this a good kiss? I don’t know, I don’t have a comparison. But it certainly feels amazing. Simon’s mouth is soft as it’s firmly pressed against mine. All my senses are overwhelmed with him. His warmth, his sugary scent, his fingers pushing against my nape. I can tell that he’s done this before. He’s doing this thing with his chin that makes my brain melt. I try to copy the way his lips move at first, but I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. So I let Simon take the lead. The rest of the world disappears. And I’m fine with that, because I’m kissing Simon Snow Salisbury. Nothing else matters.

He does pull away eventually though, obviously. Our foreheads stay pressed together as we both let out quiet sighs. Simon lets go of my hand and wraps both arms around my neck. We’re pressed together, and part of me never wants to let go.

“Hm,” I chuckle, “I just noticed something.”

“What?” He mumbles into my jacket.

“You’re shorter than me.”

He half giggles, half scoffs. “Yeah. You’ve never noticed?”

“No. I guess I always thought you were above me, the perfect popular guy and all. Turns out you’re actually beneath me.”

Simon more scoffs this time. I feel him lightly kick my foot. “Asshole.”

“Mm, you like me.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He somehow pulls me closer, even though we’re already pressed together. “I never would, though. Regret this. Regret you. I choose you.”

I sigh, leaning my cheek on top of his wild, sweet smelling hair. “Me too, Snow. Me too.”

———————————————-

I’m jittery as fuck. I’ve never really paid attention to a football game before, and it’s surprisingly tense. Watching everyone go back and forth, trying to gain that little bit of ground to get closer to the end. And if I thought watching Simon getting bashed around was hard when he was just my crush, it’s agony when he’s my boyfriend.

“Stop chewing your nails,” Bunce mutters. “He’ll be fine.”

I glare at her. We’re sitting together on the bottom bench on the seats Simon reserved for us. Dev and Niall are somewhere higher up. “Excuse me for being concerned.”

She sighs, patting my shoulder. “He’s got a thick skull. Hence why he’s so good at at this. Just calm down.”

I chuckle, then look back out at the field. Watford’s team is setting up again. Simon is at the back, squaring his shoulders. He catches my eye and smiles. I smile back, unconsciously tugging his letterman jacket closer around me. It’s a bit small but very warm. I’m not sure I’m going to give it back.

Simon shouts some words I don’t understand, then they’re off again. A huge of mess of boys in massive padding rushing into each other. I keep my eyes on Simon. He bobs and weaves past others, then jumps up and down like a mad man. Someone tosses him the ball, which he obviously catches. He runs off like a shot with everyone chasing after him. Fuck, there’s 8 seconds left on the clock.

“C’mon, Snow,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

4...3...2...1-

“Touchdown!” The announcer proclaims. “Salisbury brings in another victory for Watford!”

I’m running before I realise it. My overly romantic lizard brain is just shouting, get to him, get to him now! He rips off his helmet and tosses it to the side like always. But this time he’s running towards me as well. We meet in the middle, crashing into each other with far more force than probably necessary. I hold him up by his waist and he hangs on to my neck. We’re laughing like idiots as we spin around.

“You were amazing,” I say against his ear. “You’re so amazing, Snow.”

He grins beautifully, and suddenly pulls me down into a hard kiss. He’s sweaty and gross and certainly needs a shower, but I seriously do not care right now . I kiss him with all the desire and admiration I feel for him. Because I’m so damn happy.

“Woohoo! Get it, Salisbury!” One of his teammates shouts.

Simon pulls away to sigh and roll his eyes. “Sorry. Jocks, y’know?”

I chuckle, weaving our fingers together. “Yes, I certainly know now.”

The teammates come up to ruffle Simon’s sticky hair, congratulating him in that typical gruff, masculine sports way. Bunce, Dev, and Niall come onto the field too eventually. Bunce gives Simon a big squeezing hug.

“Y’know, you scared the hell out of Basilton,” she says with a grin. I glare at her for the second time tonight.

“Apologies for worrying about my boyfriend’s brains getting bashed in,” I add in.

“Aw,” Simon coos, “you’re worried about me.”

“Duh. If you die, who am I going to make out with?”

Niall and Dev laugh while Buce gags. Simon kisses my cheek though, so I don’t really notice or care. The three of them start chatting their shared/much hated humanities class. Snow sighs and puts his head on my shoulder.

“I’ve gotta shower,” he mutters.

“Agreed. Is the team getting celebration ice cream?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He looks up at me with his big blue eyes and my knees go weak. “Wanna come with Penny and me? I’m allowed to bring two people.”

I squeeze his hand. “I would like that very much. Meet you in the parking lot?”

“Awesome.” He leans up and presses another peck to my cheek. “See you in a bit, babe.”

In an overly sappy act I’d never do with anyone else, I rub my nose against his. It feels so stupid and so right. “See you, babe.”

We kiss deeply one more time, because we’re young and stupid and horny. And, at least on my end, probably in love. We’ve only been actually dating for two weeks though, so it’s too soon for me to say that, obviously. But...I do hope to say it soon. And for him to say it too.

Simon runs off and I watch him go, putting my hands in his coat. I don’t feel cynical, or anxious. I just feel...happy. And considering how long it took to get here, I deserve it. Simon and I both do.

We’re living such charmed lives.

———————————————-

AN: Aw, young, dumb, and in love. Good for them <3 Hope you enjoyed this teen romcom fluffy bs. I certainly had fun writing it. I'm really sorry for misreading the request though. That's my bad. I promise the request will be fluffy and cute af and def worth the wait. And if anyone wants to request, go here and drop a number in my inbox :)

#carry on #snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow #penelope bunce #niall #dev #fluff #light angst #love simon elements #mysnowbazfic

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