#i never pretended school was hard but I also changed my approach after third grade

[fourdiagnosesinatrenchcoat]

Magic by William Goldman

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 15: Sleep Deprived

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto

WC: ~3320

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: AU backstory for the purposes of I Wanted To.

A/N: This is just. I don't even know guys. I started writing and then it got bigger and bigger and I couldn't stop. It's just. A Lot.

~

Kakashi has not been able to take care of his sensei’s child the way he should, the way the boy admittedly deserves; and yes, absolutely, he takes that fault personally but also doesn’t do anything about it because really… what can he provide for this child besides instability? He’s hardly in the village anymore, though Sandaime has hinted that, if Kakashi asked, he could be assigned missions closer to home. Instead, Kakashi does what he can without bothering Naruto or letting the boy realize that he even exists. He ensures the bills are paid up in six-month increments, and has the utility companies know to charge to his personal account anything he misses due to being out on mission. He provides non-perishable groceries, placed in the pantry late at night every month or so: oats, rice, dried or tinned meats, beans and legumes. He’ll bring a small selection of vegetables with him at the same time, (no more than three or four items, so they don’t rot before Naruto feels obligated to eat them) usually pilfered from Gai’s garden so he knows they’re not poisoned.

And whenever he’s in the village, he makes a stop at Naruto’s apartment at least once to check in on the wards wrapped into the walls and window frames.

This is how he learns about Umino Iruka and the interest he’s taken in the village jinchūriki.

~

The wards when he gets to Minato’s son’s apartment this time are different. Odd. Not… well, actually, they might be stronger; Kakashi glances at the walls with the sharingan and finds himself mildly impressed. Whoever placed these wards knew about the ones Kakashi put up, and modified their own to augment and strengthen Kakashi’s.

Kakashi says modified because he’s seen these styles of wards before, but never used like this. The key in the front door jingles a bit, like the person unlocking the door knows Kakashi’s in here and is giving him time to leave. Kakashi takes the out for what it is and slips out the window, closing it quietly behind him. He stays plastered against the wall beside the window for a moment, however, wanting to get a glimpse of who’s taking care of his sensei’s kid in Kakashi’s stead.

The door opens and Naruto—gods, how old is he, seven? Eight?—barrels by the figure in the doorway with a grin and shoots straight for the pantry.

“Naruto-kun, take your sandals off first. I mopped for you just earlier this week, I’m not doing it again so soon.”

One arm balancing a paper bag of fresh groceries, a leather school bag over the same shoulder; hitai-ate and vest both neat, but his sleeves and pants legs are scuffed; and his fingers carry the faint dusting of chalk that hours of holding ingrains and a quick wash won’t wipe away. A teacher.

“Iruka-sensei, I can mop later; I’m hungry now!”

“I won’t ask you twice.” The man—this Iruka-sensei—walks barefoot through the apartment and sets the grocery bag down on the kitchen table. Naruto hangs his head and goes back to the door, and once he’s out of the room, Iruka looks at the window Kakashi is peeking in, scowling initially. The scowl lessens when he sees the Konoha ANBU mask, and he nods, but makes a slight shoo gesture.

“What’re we making tonight, sensei?” Naruto bounds back into the room, barefoot as his sensei.

“I’m thinking of teaching you breakfast for dinner,” Iruka says. “Miso soup, tamagoyaki, steamed salmon; how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great!”

“And if we make enough, you’ll have enough for the morning, too,” Iruka ruffles Naruto’s hair. “Go grab out the rice and we’ll get started, okay?”

Kakashi leaves. Iruka-sensei seems to have only good intentions.

~

Iruka is a new teacher, one that (if the very quiet rumors are to be believed) didn’t initially want to be the jinchūriki’s homeroom teacher. Something changed his mind, clearly, and now he’s spending every moment outside of class with the kid.

Every. Moment.

Kakashi notices the third time he’s in the village after meeting Iruka—notices how tired the man seems. He follows the teacher from just before dawn when he wakes up and heads out to Naruto’s apartment and fixes him breakfast. Kakashi watches Iruka herd Naruto around the apartment, brushing teeth, getting changed, gods Naruto where’s your homework I told you to put it right back in your bag last night after I helped you with it. Then they’re out the door and one of them locks the deadbolt while the other activates the wards (Iruka always double-checks the wards if Naruto does them) and they walk to the Academy together.

Iruka spends the day in the Academy staunchly refusing to play favorites. If Kakashi didn’t know that the man had made Naruto eat breakfast while searching for a clean shirt for the child to wear, he’d swear Naruto was Iruka’s least favorite student—based solely on the amount of yelling.

But the two of them have lunch together, talk and hang out during recess unless Iruka shoos him away to play, and then they walk together to either Iruka’s or Naruto’s apartment after school. Sometimes they’ll go out for ramen, or to one of the training grounds to work on a technique they started in class which Naruto needs more time to fully grasp. Iruka is a patient teacher, especially one-on-one, and even though Minato-sensei’s son doesn’t perform well on the tests in school he learns the techniques after class and gains the appropriate muscle memory.

Which is admittedly much more important than the grades Naruto earns. Iruka won’t say as much, but it’s obvious that he agrees when his teaching style puts emphasis on practicals rather than paper tests. Kakashi approves.

After a day of minding twenty-five ankle-biters, an afternoon of extra training for the village jinchūriki, and an evening of making sure Naruto is fed and happy and his homework is completed to the best of his ability, Iruka then helps Naruto get ready for bed. Against the kid’s token protests, they’ll read a story together (Kakashi suspects Iruka does this because Naruto’s reading skills are lacking, but he could also very well just be doing it because he enjoys it—the man’s motives are enigma to him) and Iruka will tuck Naruto in. He stays at the apartment until he knows Naruto is asleep, tidying up here and there or even just leaning in the bedroom doorway watching the jinchūriki’s chest rise and fall.

Only when Naruto’s asleep will Iruka leave, activating the wards and locking up after himself.

It took only two times of Kakashi watching these kinds of days go by before he realized that Iruka knew he had been watched all day. As he passes the tree outside of Naruto’s building, the only one that reaches high enough to afford a glance into his apartment, Iruka looks right up into the limbs where Kakashi is crouched, waves, and continues back to his own home.

(He had been underestimating Umino Iruka’s awareness. He’s intrigued.)

(But anyway.)

Once he’s home, Iruka rushes through grading and lesson plans and adjustments. He makes lunch for himself and Naruto for tomorrow. Cleans, if he remembers; showers, if he has any energy left. Then, Umino-sensei crashes hard around one or two in the morning.

All to start over again at five-thirty the next morning.

It can’t be sustainable. Kakashi is morbidly interested in how long Iruka planned to keep up this kind of schedule.

~

It starts out with checking out during lunch. Kakashi is lounging in the trees on the Academy grounds, pretending to read but listening intently to Naruto ramble on about some new topping Ichiraku is introducing on Friday and please Iruka-sensei can we go? Then the soft click of dropped chopsticks against a bento box made Kakashi look down to the pair sitting at the base of his tree.

“Iruka-sensei? Are you—?”

“Oh, I’m. I’m alright.” Iruka laughs it off, fumbling for his chopsticks. “I was just thinking too hard there.”

“You shouldn’t do that!”

“Hu—?”

“You tell me not to think too hard all the time,” Naruto pouts. “That I’ll hurt myself.”

Iruka’s laugh crinkles his eyes and he tips his head back. “Gods, Naruto, I’m sorry—no, not—um. Listen, forget it, okay? Ramen, on Friday, right?”

“YES!”

And it was forgotten. Except, Iruka is unconsciously rubbing his fingers together beside his hip and Kakashi can see it. Something happened to force the drop—likely, he lost feeling in his hand briefly.

~

Kakashi’s out of the village as it gets worse, but he hears all about it from Shikaku and Inoichi when he gets back. They’re in the hallway outside the Hokage’s office, talking in low tones like they were discussing an attack on the village.

“What could cause such a serious mood shift?”

“Genjutsu; one of the other teachers sabotaging him; another student practicing poorly.”

“Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi asks.

Both men look at him as he approaches. He’s still in his ANBU armor, but the mask is in his locker. It’s an open secret he’s in ANBU; only his codename is high-clearance.

Shikaku nods. “Shikamaru’s complaining about the man’s temper being shorter than usual.”

“My Ino confirmed this behavior shift. We’re understandably worried, if someone if trying to use an Academy teacher to attack the kids—”

Kakashi shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“And you would know?” Shikaku prompts.

“He’s taking care of Naruto,” Kakashi shrugs. “It’s probably catching up with him, finally.”

“What is?” Inoichi looks honestly confused.

Kakashi tilts his head and then realizes. “Ah. That’s right. You’re both married. You have a way to share the responsibilities.”

Sakumo hadn’t ever been irate with him, but Kakashi can remember him being tired. He lifts his hand and walks away. “I’ll see if I can’t have a talk with Iruka-sensei,” he says, as though he speaks with the man on a regular basis instead of just waving back from his shadowed space in the tree at night when Iruka leaves Naruto.

~

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Iruka for weeks. When he gets back, it finally comes to a head.

Kakashi is perched outside Iruka’s apartment where he and Naruto are preparing their dinner. Naruto, still talking a mile a minute, hardly notices that Iruka is dazed at the counter, his hands going through the motions of peeling carrots and separating pieces of broccoli without being fully cognizant. He’s much paler than the last time Kakashi peeked in on them—all except for the bags under his eyes; those couldn’t get much darker if they were black.

He flinches forward as Iruka drifts to the side. Naruto catches his teacher before Kakashi can take a step, and the clang of a knife hitting the floor is more than a little startling. Together, they stick Iruka’s hand under running water from the tap, and then Naruto disappears further into the apartment and returns a few seconds later with a first aid kit.

“What was that about, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka takes a bit to answer. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he says. “I’m a bit tired, that’s all. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Naruto says. He finishes caring for his sensei and then says, “How about I go get some take-out, and then we can clean up and you can go to bed?”

Iruka smiles tiredly. “We can bring the take-out to your place, okay? I’ll clean up when I come back home.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Naruto,” Iruka puts his unbandaged hand in Naruto’s hair. “I’d rather make sure you’re fed and well-rested for school tomorrow. That’s what's important.”

“You’re important, too, sensei,” Naruto says.

Kakashi can’t help but agree.

“Let’s go get some ramen, and we can argue about this later.”

Kakashi flashes away to Ichiraku to put in their order and pay. It’s the least he can do, right?

Later that night, Iruka leaves Naruto’s apartment and like always, lifts his head to wave up at Kakashi in the tree. Only, his eyes roll back with the movement of lifting his head and his knees collapse under him and Kakashi makes it just in time to keep the sensei’s head from hitting the ground. He catches Iruka with one hand under his back and the other cupped behind his head and eases him down against his raised knee.

As soon as Iruka is horizontal, his eyes flutter back open. “Oh, ANBU-san,” he mutters. He’s dazed and foggy, but tries to stand up on his own anyway.

“Sensei, are you well?” Kakashi asks, knowing the answer but needing Iruka to admit it.

Iruka waves him away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

It’s more than that if you’re slipping into micro-sleep, Kakashi thinks, but lets the man stubbornly stand up. He’s still holding his hands out, ready to catch him again, when after five paces Iruka tips sideways and falls again. Kakashi keeps him upright this time, arms tight around his waist and back.

Iruka stays under for a few seconds this time, and when he wakes he leans more heavily into Kakashi’s armor and groans. “What’s happening?” he murmurs.

Normally, he would stay and look after Naruto all night, but this seems more important. “Umino-sensei, I’m going to see you to the hospital now,” he says.

“But… Naruto?”

Because of course Iruka figured out that Kakashi—his ANBU persona at least—stays close to Naruto at all times. “Together, our wards are top-notch, sensei,” Kakashi says. “He’ll be okay for a night.” He slips Iruka onto his back, pulling his arms over his shoulders. Iruka’s light breath huffs past his ear as he says, “Hold on.” Then, they’re gone.

~

Iruka wakes up much later, Naruto tipped against his hospital bed, snoring. He feels so much better after however many hours of sleep he’s gotten. He wonders briefly why he’s here, and where the ANBU that brought him here is. If Naruto is here, that ANBU is likely closeby. Iruka lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and settles back down on the pillow to sleep some more.

When he wakes up the second time, it’s because he has to pee so bad oh gods. It’s night time and Naruto is gone—Iruka tries not to feel disappointed. His legs shake under him when he tries to stand to get to the restroom; whatever’s wrong with him, it’s making him weak as a newborn but he will not embarrass himself by not making it to the toilet. He pushes chakra through his legs, and, finally, blissfully, makes it.

He gets a good look at himself in the mirror as he’s washing his hands. His eyes are puffy and red, but he has some color back in his skin. His hair could use a wash and some heavy conditioning—he hadn’t had time for that in awhile. All in all, it’s not bad; but he’s still wondering why he’s here.

Iruka leaves the restroom and is halfway across the room to his bed when his chakra flares unexpectedly. He stumbles, collapses, and feels his eyes blur and begin to roll back.

Before his head can hit the tile, he’s caught and cushioned by Naruto’s ANBU. The ANBU gently picks him up, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, and it’s like Iruka weighs nothing as the ANBU stands and carries him back to bed.

“Thank-you, ANBU-san,” Iruka says, flushed. “I promise I’m not usually so weak.”

The ANBU fusses with the blanket and covers Iruka back up. He (Iruka assumes they’re a he, the voice and height lead him to believe it but he’s been wrong before) seems frustrated, in the way that ANBU show frustration: by being busy, and then by being absolutely still. He’ll make sure the water pitcher is full, and then stand silently by the window for a few seconds. Pace the width of the room from window to door and back, and then stand at the end of the bed.

“What’s going on, ANBU-san? Is Naruto—?”

“Uzumaki-kun is safe, healthy, and well-cared for,” the ANBU says, cutting him off. “You are a godsend to this village, if only to care for the uncared for.”

Iruka glowers. “Someone had to do it. He’s seven years old and living alone and has lived alone his entire life. I couldn’t—”

“I’m aware,” the ANBU holds up a hand to stop his rant. “Believe me, if I could have done more, I would have. But an ANBU is no role model, especially not me. I’m glad he’s had you. That said.” The ANBU somehow matched Iruka’s glower through the mask; he was suddenly glad for all the time spent in Sandaime’s office around the ANBU that he can pick up on these micro-aggressions for what they are.

Iruka folds his arms and waits for the ANBU to continue.

After a heavy sigh, the ANBU says, “Sleep deprivation.”

“I—what?”

“What you’re here for. You’ve been running yourself into the ground, sensei. You slept for twenty-two hours, and you’re still not fully recovered. The medics say it could take up to a week of proper sleep for you to feel normal again.”

Iruka flushes and ducks his head. “I… But, that doesn’t…”

“How much sleep have you been getting? Three, Four hours a night? And then you’re exhausting yourself all day looking after pre-genin and then Naruto.” The ANBU folds his arms. “This isn’t sustainable.”

“I know that. I just.” Iruka groans. “I don’t have time for—” He scrubs both hands across his eyes. Now that he’s actually gotten some sleep he’s really tired. “No one else takes care of him, not the way he needs it; he’s just a kid! It bothers me enough that he lives by himself—”

“Your immune system was compromised when you arrived, sensei.” The ANBU snapped, quieting Iruka’s tirade. “Who’s going to take care of Naruto the way he deserves if you’re stuck on your back with a perfectly, normally treatable form of the flu? What will happen to him if you critically injure yourself due to a micro-sleep at an inopportune time and find yourself off-roster for weeks? What then, sensei?”

The silence is heavy. Iruka picks at a stray thread in the blanket on his lap.

“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice small. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking that far ahead, I guess.”

The ANBU nods. “At least you’re aware now.”

There’s a long, awkward pause as Iruka wonders what else there is to say.

“You have a spare room in your apartment, yes?” the ANBU breaks the silence.

Iruka nods, slowly, not sure where this is going.

“Maybe…” the ANBU continues slowly, “maybe changes in Naruto’s living arrangements can be made. If Naruto were living with you, could you agree to a better sleep schedule—one with which you can better take care of yourself and Naruto?”

Iruka could kiss this man.

“Yes! Yes, please, I’ll—yes! I’ll take him, even if it means I have to lose him as a student, I’d take him as a foster.”

The ANBU chuckles. “I’ll speak with the Hokage. If he says no, well… There’s nothing saying that Naruto himself can’t choose where he lives, is there?” Then his micro-aggression is back, leaning over the foot of the bed with his arms wide. “My only stipulation is that you take better care of yourself. A sick guardian can’t very well keep up with any child, let alone a jinchūriki.”

Iruka nods. “Deal.” He covers a yawn with his palm and asks, “Can this taking care of myself clause start now, with me asking you to leave so I can go back to sleep?”

“I’m not leaving,” the ANBU says, standing back up straight. “If you’re to be the guardian of our jinchūriki, you’ll need to get used to the ANBU guard, sensei. But please, get some sleep.” He chuckles lightly, “I think I’ve caught you enough in the last thirty-six hours, don’t you?”

[northlight14]

A love for love

Description: Roman loved love. He always had, even as a small child. So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

TW: panic attack, mention of making out but nothing is actually shown, cursing, questioning, unrequited love, let me know if I should add anything else

Ships: unrequited royality, platonic roceit, dukeceit

Genre: high school au

Prompt: prompt 6, aromantic (prompt by @pridewrite2021)

Roman loved love. He always had. Even as a small child, he'd watch wide eyed as Prince Charming leaned down and gave sleeping beauty true loves kiss, something so powerful that it was able to break an evil witches curse. He'd stayed up till early hours in the morning, squealing with excitement as he read about two warriors able to take on an entire army, motivated by their want to keep the other safe and stealing glances at each other as their metal swords collided with the enemies weapon. He'd sing his heart out when a romance song came on the radio, gushing about their love interest with such emotion that Roman adored.

Yes, Roman loved love.

So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

The earliest memory Roman had of this was when he was in first grade. Two of his classmates ran up to him giggling as they sang "Savannah has a crush on you!" Instead of feeling that overwhelming joy like the ones described in his books and music, he felt a deep cutting disgust in his stomach. Roman felt less like he could conquer the world and more like the world was going to swallow him whole. Rather than singing any great love song that he'd sang so many times in his room or in the car, he began crying instead while the two girls looked at him in confusion.

"It was just because I don't like her." Roman told himself.

But this feeling of being out of place only grew as his fellow classmates gushed about their boyfriends and girlfriends, crushes and which cartoon character they find cute. Granted, they were in second and third grade, so the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" roughly translated to "they let me borrow their crayon at break once and now we're in love and going to get married." However, this love for love spread like a virus and Romans desire to fit in only grew. So, during a sleepover with his friends, Roman looked upon the TV, at the princess Aurora and decided 'She'd make a good crush.' Before announcing it to the crowd of toddlers, the words immediately sounding wrong as he spoke them, as if he'd spoken them in a foreign language. He decided that night to never speak of his supposed "crush" ever again. Roman liked Aurora with Prince Philip much more, anyway.

Roman was in fifth grade when he was talking to one of his best friends, Valorie. The two of them just laughing and joking when his friends approached.

"Who's your girlfriend, Ro?" one laughed, putting his arm around Roman. And he knew it was a joke. He knew that. But it still felt like the arm hadn't wrapped around his shoulders and instead knocked all the air out his lungs in one hard punch. This moment lingered in his mind like a haunting apparition, quickly causing any friendships with girls to become strained. First only talking occasionally while in class or on the yard, to only talking when his guy friends weren't around, to only texting outside of school to nothing at all. Roman mourned these friendships but it had been made clear that boys and girls couldn't just be friends and the idea of people thinking he was dating any of these people made him feel like a caged bird.

Later that year Roman decided, despite his love for love, he didn't want to date. The reason for this being...

"I'm just more focused on my career."

"I just don't see the point in dating right now."

"I've never really liked anyone so what's the point?"

"I just like being more focused on myself."

And any other excuse he could possibly come up with, repeating them as many times as he needed to to believe them. Roman had always been a good actor, after all. But, of coarse, with this supposed decision came "reassurance" from adults, as if they had the ability to see the future.

"You just haven't met the right person, yet."

"You'll change your mind one day, when you get a bit older."

"All kids say that at your age."

"Roman isn't interested in dating YET."

These invalidating promises made Romans blood boil the more he heard them. It was as if he was yelling while trapped in a soundproof box, unable to escape. But, despite what seemingly everyone around him was saying, Roman knew deep down that romance just wasn't for him.

He also remained thankful that this love for love hadn't infected his friendship too much.

That was until seventh grade when what was originally a few cases of a love for love became an epidemic. It seemed that all anyone wanted to know was "do you have a crush on her?" "Did you hear that Lily and Reese are going out?" "Do you find her attractive?" This soon made its way over to his friends as they talked about how hot the girls were and teased each other relentlessly about who they liked. Roman once again felt like an outsider in his friend group. His friends conversations about their girlfriends may as well have been spoken in Latin.

Then the day came when his twin brother, Remus, came out as gay and started dating a guy named Janus. It then occurred to Roman.

"Maybe the reason I haven't been feeling anything for all these girls was because they were girls! Maybe I like boys instead!" Roman had never been a very logical person but this definitely seemed to make more sense. If he didn't like women then that surely must mean that he liked men instead, right? Because otherwise...otherwise Roman didn't know what that meant.

So Roman tried. Really God damn tried to find boys cute, to fantasize about dating them, to relate to gay experiences. But all he was met with was the same foreign and hollow feeling he'd felt when he lied about having a crush back in 2nd grade. Roman quickly began feeling his love for the concept of love diminish.

So when Roman entered grade 9, he decided to put anything to do with his romantic feelings (or lack there of) in a little box in the back of his mind to deal with later. Instead putting his passion and good acting skills to use by joining his schools drama department. The moment he stepped foot on stage, he felt himself come alive. The crowd, the praise, the creativity, it was addicting.

And it was only made better with the more friends he made. There was one person who he grew partially close to. Patton Heart. The two quickly became best friends, often hanging out outside of rehearsals and texting non stop. And, for the first time in what seemed like years, Roman was happy and comfortable.

That was until 10th grade. Roman way lying on his bed watching Netflix on his phone when a message from Patton came through. Roman clicked on the message and was caught massively off guard as he read it.

Patton: hey, Roman. So I've been thinking a lot lately. In particular about us and about you. And over the past few months I've started to realize that I have a really big crush on you. You're really handsome, funny and talented and I love spending time with you. It's totally ok if you don't like me back, but I figured it's better to be honest.

It should've been it. The moment when one of the main characters confesses their feelings for the love interest and they proclaim they feel the same way. Sparks fly and their hearts beat faster with excitement. It all becomes so clear when they hear that confession in movies and books.

But this wasn't a movie.

Roman felt time stand still as he read the message, his hands shaking so much he didn't think he would be able to respond even if he knew how to answer.

He couldn't breath. Why couldn't he breath?! The edges of his vision went fuzzy as he desperately gasped for air.

"Patton's great." He thought through his suffocating panic. "He's funny and charming and sweet. You should like him. Why don't you like him? What's wrong with you?!" Romans thoughts yelled as he tried desperately to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Not sure of what else to do, Roman ran to Remus' room, hoping he'd know how to respond.

Roman knocked on his brothers door and Remus responded with a very annoyed "come in" after a few beats of silence. Remus and Janus were sat on Remus' bed and Roman could tell from their slightly red lips that the two had been making out. But he wasn't in the headspace to even pretend to care that he'd interrupted them right now.

"Ugh, what do you want?" Remus said, clearly too irritated by his brothers presence to notice his distress.

"P-Patton just messaged me s-saying he likes me and I don't know what to say." Roman barely stuttered out, trying desperately not to cry in front of Remus and his boyfriend.

"Aw, cute. Roro finally got a man." Remus joked but Roman was definitely not in the mood for that kind of humor.

"Do you like him back?" Janus asked, calmly, clearly taking more notice of Romans distress.

"Well, I do. But not like that."

"Ok, so just tell him that. It doesn't have to be this whole thing. Why are you getting so upset?" Remus said, looking at Roman as if he was stupid.

Which, to be fair, Roman did feel very stupid right now.

"He's my best friend. I don't want to upset him." Yeah, that was the reason Roman was freaking out. He just didn't want to hurt Patton. That was it.

"Well, just say you don't want a relationship right now or some shit. Besides, he's probably more worried now because you've taken so long to answer." Remus pointed out. Yeah, Roman was never coming to Remus with his problems ever again.

"Yeah...ok." Roman said. Slowly, he walked out the room, noticing Janus looking at him curiously but deciding not to focus on it.

Roman: I'm really sorry Patton, but I don't feel the same way. We can still be friends tho. It doesn't have to be awkward between us. Especially because I really like being friends with you.

Patton: Yeah, that's ok. This is kinda what I was expecting to be honest. But yeah, I still wanna stay friends.

A few days later Janus came over again for dinner. Afterwards, Roman went into the living room and sat on the couch, scrolling through Instagram.

To his surprise, Janus followed after him and sat next to him. "So, how are you feeling after a few days ok. Broken his heart yet?" Janus teased.

Roman huffed out a laugh. "Uh, yeah, we agreed to just stay friends. Which I'm happy about but it's also really weird. I honestly don't know where we go from here which sucks because I really like Patton. Just not like...that." Janus nodded in understanding.

"You must care about him a lot if you had a panic attack just because you didn't want to hurt his feelings." Janus said. Roman just shrugged in response. "So, does that mean you like someone else?" Janus asked.

"No...I. I don't know. I've...I've never really liked anyone. I don't think I ever will. And people say I'll change my mind but...it isn't like I've made a choice. I've felt like this my whole life and everyone around me has had a crush on someone by now. I just... don't think I was built for romance. Which I know probably sounds stupid but that's just how I feel." He said, so honest it almost hurt.

Janus nodded slowly, taking in what Roman was saying. "It doesn't sound stupid." He said before pausing, as if considering his next choice of words. "Roman...have you ever heard of the term aromantic?" He asked.

"No." Roman answered, looking at Janus curiously.

"It basically means someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction. So they don't get crushes and stuff like that." He explained.

Roman felt his heart leap and for once it wasn't because of a fight or flight reflex. "Wait, that's a thing?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, a surprising number of people identify with it. I don't want to assume anything but I thought I might mention it just from what you've told me and what Remus has said in the past. Plus that panic on your face yesterday reminded me a bit of when I tried to force myself into romantic situations with girls." Janus smirked to himself.

That night Roman researched more on aromanticism than he did for his science test. The more he searched, the more it just made sense. Of coarse, he still had a long way to go towards self acceptance. Roman could feel himself already starting to mourn the idea that this was a choice he'd made ages ago and he was going to feel romantic love one day. It was an odd feeling, realizing that even though he knew deep down it wasn't a decision and he'd always hated when people made those comments, a part of him took comfort in adults promising that he'd change his mind one day. He was also horrified to realize that he didn't know what his future was supposed to look like now without romance. After all, media seemed to show single middle aged adults exclusively as depressed and lonely. But as he scoured through wiki articles to tumblr pages to memes, he knew this was a good start to unlearning any nonsense society had been shoving down his throat.

The more Roman learned and the more people he talked to online about it, the more he started to feel his love for love increase. But instead of it being centered on a prince and princess in a movie, two in love warriors keeping each other alive in a book or a cheesy love song on the radio, it was a different type of love Roman was finally starting to feel the more he accepted himself.

Self love.

Reblog’s >>>> likes

[yandere-society]

Sugar Rush

Synopsis: You thought the breakup had gone well, but your ex-girlfriend Yoonji didn’t seem to get the message. When you go out with friends to party on Halloween night, you encounter Yoonji in an unexpected way – and you discover just how far she’ll go to get you back.  

Pairing: Min Yoonji x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Yandere themes, blood/mentions of blood, stalking, restraints, safeword violation, torture, suicide mention, gore

Headline: Woman In Sumo Wrestler Suit Assaulted Ex-Girlfriend In Gay Pub After She Waved At Man Dressed As A Snickers Bar

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Ooh – gah!”

“Y/n?” Mia pokes her head into the kitchen. Her pupils are pure black, and she looks to be crying blood. “What happened?”

“Ugh, I think my mom sent me these roses and I pricked myself on a thorn,” you reply, sucking on your bleeding finger irritably. You lay down the card that came with the bouquet, which reads See you soon! “You look great.”

“Thanks! I’m a student.” Mia steps forward to reveal a school uniform shirt, sweatpants, and flip-flops. 

“Uh…”

“Cause I’m stu-dying, get it?”

You snort. “Very nice.”

“What are you? You haven’t changed!”

You sigh. “I don’t think I’m going to dress up.” You can’t shake Halloween’s association with her.

“What? But 66 Below has their ‘free drink for a costume’ thing going on. C’mon, why not?”

You shrug, looking at your bleeding finger. Roses always seem to have it out for you. “It was our anniversary.”

“Wait, is this about Yoonji? Y/n, you broke up with her! If you regret it so much, get back together. The girl was head over heels with you, I’m sure she’d be down.”

You shake your head. “I’m not getting back together with her. Definitely not.” You and Yoonji were together for three years, long enough that you had started wondering if it would turn into forever. As time went on, however, you began to notice unnerving little quirks in her behavior. She was scaring you, and you ended things soon after. “Besides, she was always so neurotic that I would cheat on her with a guy.”

Mia rolls her eyes. “Biphobia at its finest. Well, fuck Yoonji. It’s been months – now get dressed. It’s Halloween, and we’re going out! Besides, Aisha is meeting us there.”

You laugh. “I don’t have a costume.”

“I have an extra that I brought with me – it’s an unnecessarily sexy angel, it didn’t fit my sister. Try it!”

Angel. That was Yoonji’s name for you. You sigh, dragging yourself away from the traitorous roses and following Mia down the hall.

Soon enough, Mia is putting the final touches on your makeup. “Ooh, you’re glowing!”

“I don’t know why you sound surprised when it’s your fault,” you retort before catching a look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re wearing a white silky babydoll dress – the kind that you’d only wear in the bedroom. She’d love it. You’re sporting white fishnets and feathered wings, with a golden headband resembling a halo to complete the look. Mia has done your makeup expertly, with lots of rose and gold, so that you look perfectly angelic. You add your favorite rainbow earrings for some added pride. Still, the outfit…

“Isn’t this a little… risque?” Yoonji would never let you wear something like this out.

“I don’t want anyone else laying eyes on my angel,” she would croon in your ear. “You’re all mine. I’ll never let anyone else touch you.”

“It’s Halloween, Y/n, as long as the goods are covered you’re set.”

You peer out of the window. The sun has set, and groups of kids are out in spades for trick-or-treating. You used to love Halloween – it had always been your favorite holiday, long before you and Yoonji made it official four years ago.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

She stared at you for a long time. “Do you promise never to cheat? You’ll be loyal to me alone?”

You laughed. “Of course! I like you, I want to date you!

“In that case…” She leaned forward and kissed you. Her vampire costume meant you got fake blood all over your lips. “Happy Halloween, angel.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Mia nods. Her black contact lenses are… well, they’re not unintimidating. You’re glad to be able to spend this Halloween with her, and not worry about your ex-girlfriend.

66 Below has long been your and Mia’s favorite LGBTQ bar. With its live music, pride flags, and vintage decor, you feel as though you’re stepping into an extra-queer period piece.Yoonji never liked it; she thought it was too crowded. Tonight, almost everyone is dressed up in costume, enjoying 66 Below’s 'first drink free’ policy.

“Mia! Y/n! Over here!” Mia’s girlfriend Aisha gets your attention, waving at you from a booth. You’ve never encountered a more loving couple, and you know Mia’s planning on proposing to her soon. Aisha is dressed as… “Wait, what is she wearing?” You ask as you and Mia join her. Aisha looks like she printed a graded school paper onto white clothing, complete with red marks and typos. Over her heart is a big red F. In response to your quizzical glance, Aisha points to the F.

“Geddit? I’m a failing grade! I specifically wanted to be a final exam, but…”

You laugh. Mia and Aisha must have coordinated that. You scan the bar and note you’re not the only angel. There’s also some devils, ghosts, animals, anime characters, Iron Man, a Snickers bar, two Harry Potters, and – of course – inappropriately sexy children’s cartoon characters. You love Halloween.

“Y/n, c’mon, let’s grab drinks,” Mia says, but her eyes seem unwilling to leave Aisha’s. Their love reminds you of yours… or, what you thought was love. Towards the end of your relationship, you began to realize Yoonji’s idea of love was very different from yours.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get yours. What do you want?”

“You sure?” When you nod, Mia reels off her order. You approach the bar, smiling at your favorite bartender. “Hey, Jaewon!” 

“Do mine eyes deceive me, or is that Y/n beneath the halo?”

Jaewon pretends to be blinded. He’s dressed as what you can only assume is slutty Mario.

“Shush, you. I’ll have an IPA and a margarita, please.”

“Sure thing.”

As you’re waiting for your drinks, the person in the Snickers costume slides into the seat next to you. “Nice costume, angel.”

You stare at him, a brow raised. If you weren’t at a gay bar, you’d think he was flirting. “Thanks, Snickers.”

“Who are you here with?”

You nod at the booth, where Mia and Aisha are now kissing intensely.

“Y’all poly or are you third wheeling?”

You laugh. “The latter. I’m not the relationship type.” Not anymore. Not after you realized how you were so easily manipulated into thinking Yoonji’s behavior was love. But the way she would kiss you, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, tangling her hand in your hair…

“Yeah, I get you. Couples’ costumes are scary by default to me,” the Snickers jokes. “Perfect for Halloween. I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“Y/n. Are you here with anyone?”

Namjoon glances around. “I was here with my buddy, but I think he left to fuck one of the Harry Potters. Which is funny, now that I think about it, since he was dressed as Dumbledore.”

You snort. “Oh my god. Well, if you want a group to join, I’ll be third-wheeling over there.” Jaewon reappears with your drinks and a wink.

“I might just take you up on that, angel. Happy Halloween!”

“Hey!” Mia says, finally coming up for air. Miraculously, her bloody tears have stayed put. “Who was that guy you were talking to? He seemed cute!”

“He’s probably gay,” you remind your friend. “He was sweet, though, I invited him to come over if he wanted to – his friend left him. Is that okay?”

Mia and Aisha glance at each other. “Actually, we were wondering…”

You look at the two suspiciously. “Yes?”

“There’s this event happening at 4Sooth,” Aisha says, referencing another bar downtown, “Where the best couples’ costume gets a cash prize. We were thinking… well, zombie student, failing grade…”

Oh. Why did you come here in the first place, then?

“Yeah, you guys totally have a chance!” You offer with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. “Should we go there?”

“The thing is…” Aisha looks at Mia, who shows you the event announcement on her phone.

“Well, the other prize is a night in the ‘Halloween Suite’ at the hotel next door, y’know?” Mia says quickly, a note of pleading in her voice.

Ohhhh. “Right, okay. So… I’ll just stay here, then.”

“Are you sure?” Mia asks anxiously. You can see her on the fence between guilt and excitement.

“Yeah, it’s fine!” You insist. “I’m good at making friends. Have fun!” Just because you have to be alone on Halloween, doesn’t mean Mia and Aisha can’t have a good time.

“You’re the best, Y/n, I owe you!” Mia gives you a quick kiss on each cheek before she and Aisha head out. As soon as they’re out of sight, your smile slips from your face and you sigh, nursing your beer. It’s Halloween, what would have been your and Yoonji’s fourth anniversary, and you’re alone at a bar. Pathetic. You turn to costume-watching, admiring the Big Bird, Dorthy from The Wizard of Oz, a sumo wrestler, and several queer or genderbent characters from all sorts of media.

Namjoon, the Snickers, is looking at you from his seat at the bar. He raises a quizzical brow at the now-empty booth, and you roll your eyes and shake your head in response.

He purses his lips, tipping his glass in acknowledgement.

Wonderful. A bar of candy pities me. You wave, motioning for Namjoon to come join you. You were both alone – why not?

Almost as soon as you lower your hand, several things happen at once: a blur of tan crosses your vision; you hear a loud BANG, and feel a sudden, incomprehensible, searing pain shoot through the back of your head; something warm trickles down your face; there are lips against your ear, whispering words you can’t understand; far-off shouts and screams; and the world goes dark.

“Told you that you’d cheat… you’re just a whore for them… but now you’re all mine again.”

“Mmnn…” you groan, blinking hard. Your head hurts – everything hurts. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re lying on something soft. Did you go to bed? You move to rub your temple, but your wrist is tugged back by… rope. Rope? Your eyes widen and you begin to struggle furiously against the restraints, yanking until you feel your hands are going to detach themselves. “What the fuck?” Your wrists are tied to bedposts. Shit. Were you drugged? Was it Jaewon the bartender? “HELP! Somebody! Help me!” Your shoes are gone, and – oh, no – your white dress is stained and splattered with blood. Yours? When you try to pull yourself up, your vision floats before you. You can feel warm blood trickling down your head, tickling your scalp. You fall back onto the pillow, trying to force your vision to focus. “Help me…”

Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps, and a voice that makes you freeze.

“Looks like I nabbed myself a pretty little angel. Talk about fallen from grace, right?”

Your cries for help freeze in your throat. “Yoonji?”

And in walks your ex-girlfriend, the blow-up sumo wrestling suit deflating around her. That flash of tan… so she was there, at 66 Below. Her pristine black bob hasn’t changed in the last few months, and her makeup is perfectly done. As the suit empties, she steps out of it, wearing her favorite outfit of black tights and skirt with a cream blouse.

“Let me go,” you croak. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in her fist. Your fighting spirit seems to have evaporated in the face of the woman you once loved. It doesn’t make sense… or does it make too much sense? You knew she was possessive – it’s why you ended things. But this? “Yoonji… please. Please.”

Yoonji pretends not to hear you, instead walking around the bed to inspect your restraints. Of course, now that you’ve collected yourself, you recognize her bedroom. In fact, it’s not your first time being tied to these same bedposts.

“Red. Yoonji, please, red,” you try desperately, hoping the safeword might make her relent. For a moment, her cool expression falters. It’s quickly replaced with raw fury.

“You want to try calling red?” She snarls, looking right at you. “You cheated on me. You broke up with me!”

“I never cheated!” You cry, kicking out at her in vain. “You always thought I was cheating on you – I didn’t do anything!”

“I saw you,” she replies, raising a hand and bringing it down hard on your cheek. Your head jerks to the side and you can taste blood. Your face is on fire, it must be, how can it hurt so badly? “It’s our anniversary. I saw you wave at that candy bar.” Another slap leaves your jaw aching. “Fucking whore, do you flirt with every man you see? Girls like you can never be faithful.”

“We’re not together anymore!” You yell, pulling hard on the ropes. They’re much stronger and more coarse than any Yoonji has used with you before, and you bite back a yelp of pain at the rope burn. Your head hurts so much, and your chest is heaving with anxiety. Is she going to kill you? “You’re insane. Let me go – they’ll find out I’m gone. They’ll call the police.” After you and Yoonji broke up, you moved in with Mia. Surely she’ll be concerned when you don’t show up.

Yoonji laughs softly. It’s the way she would laugh when she had a secret. “Well… you did text your housemate to tell her you were going home with the Snickers bar. She’s not expecting you – and that contest is going to keep her at the hotel all night anyways.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. How does she know? “What text? Where’s my phone?”

Yoonji lazily fishes your phone from her pocket. “You really haven’t changed your password?”

“Give that back! Let me go!” You twist your hips and kick hard in her direction, scoring a tiny victory when your phone goes flying from Yoonji’s hand. In the split second that she’s leaned over to retrieve it, you try to see if you can feel any slack at all in the ropes binding your wrists. Yes! There’s something. Maybe your situation isn’t hopeless after all.

Your spirits fall by the wayside when you see Yoonji rise with a terrifying smile on her face. “What a frisky angel, you like to kick, don’t you? Maybe I should tie those lovely legs too.”

“No- don’t touch me! Yoonji, c’mon…” your voice breaks when you see her pull a length of rope from her closet. “W-what are you going to do with me?”

“What am I going to do with you? Exactly what I’ve always wanted to. I’m going to make sure no one else will ever touch you again. You’re mine, angel, you always have been.” Yoonji reaches for your legs and you kick wildly, desperate to escape. Your heart feels like a racehorse in your chest, and sheer adrenaline numbs the throbbing pain in your head.

“Stop… struggling!” Yoonji hisses furiously as she makes a grab for your foot. “Ungrateful bitch. Why are you always trying to get away from me? All I did was love you!”

Now. You slam your heel into her chin, and her head snaps upward with the force of your kick.

For a second you feel like she’s about to crumple to the ground, but instead she lowers her gaze to stare into your soul once more.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Yoonji massages her jaw, and when she speaks, blood drips from between her lips. She begins to pace around the bed, avoiding your kicks. “Bad angel… maybe you’re just a devil in disguise, huh? I always knew you were a dirty fucking liar. And you didn’t even say thank you for the roses.”

The roses? Your eyes widen. See you soon. They were from her? “Fuck you,” You say in response, surreptitiously tugging and relaxing the slack on your right hand’s rope. “I never cheated. You were just scared that I could love men and women. Well, guess what? I loved you! For years, until I realized you never loved me back.”

“What?” You see horror cloud Yoonji’s face. “You fucking bitch. ALL I did was love you!”

You shake your head, determined to keep her talking. She’s out of range of your kicks for now. If you could just get your hands free…

You feel suddenly woozy. Are there two… no, three Yoonjis? Shit. Now is not the time for a concussion.

“You never loved me. You were obsessed and insane. Don’t you hear yourself?” You say, your volume increasing. You know the walls are well-insulated, but she’s still in an apartment complex. Maybe the neighbors will hear? Another tug on the rope. You twist your wrist, and for a second you can feel it loosening. “You only wanted me so that no one else could have me!”

“You’re lying.” Maybe it’s a reflection of your bloody dress, or the blood dripping from her mouth, but for a second her eyes seem to shine red.

You shake your head. You’ve almost got a hand free. “You’re the one who’s lying, Yoonji. You’re lying to yourself.” Dizzy again. “You – ngh – you can just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.” Almost got a hand free. How long has it been?

Suddenly Yoonji is looming over you. “Ah, but you forgot.” She spits at you, and a mouthful of scarlet blood hits the white pillowcase. Some of it splatters on your cheek. You keep tugging at the tie around your left hand. It’s much tighter than your right. She’s rummaging in her bedside drawer, and that look in her eyes… you’re scared. “I might’ve let an angel go, but you decided you’re not an angel. You’re a devil. And where do devils belong?”

“Uh…”

“That’s right.” Yoonji shows you what she’s retrieved: a lighter. She walks around the bed to the bottom right corner of the duvet. “Devils like you should stay in hell.”

“Yoonji. Yoonji, what are you –” She lowers the lighter to the duvet, and you see the cloth begin to smoke before a small flame forms on the bed, flickering but gaining in strength. “YOONJI!”

“I told you, Y/n.” Her voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it as she wipes more blood from her chin. “I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

“C’mon, please, this is too much,” you say, your voice bleeding into hysteria as you thrash around, trying to kick the burning blanket away from your body. The fire begins to grow, and in your frenzied movement you accidentally burn your foot. You jerk away, yanking at the ropes on your wrists. You’re wearing fishnet stockings – if those catch fire, it’ll travel all the way up your body in a flash. “Let me go! Let me go, you psycho!”

Yoonji makes a pouty face. “Poor baby. Let you go… or what?”

“Please!” You shriek as the fire grows, the smoke now visibly rising from the bed. “Yoonji, I’m sorry, please, please…”

“I missed hearing you beg, my love. What a delicious Halloween treat. And if you need to blame anyone…” Yoonji pauses and smiles. The blood has gotten between her teeth, giving her a terrifying undead look. “Blame that Snickers bar.”

With that, she leaves the room and closes the door behind her. Fuck. You tug furiously at your right hand, where the rope has significantly loosened. You can feel the heat from the flames, dangerously close to you. “C’mon, c’mon…” You’re not going to die here, what a terrible headline. Who would write your obituary? You fight through another wave of dizziness. “Fucking hell!” With effort that leaves your muscles trembling, you wriggle your right hand out of its ties, and it quickly flies to your other hand. Maybe you’ll survive.

Unless she locked the door. Yoonji is four floors up. From that height…

You quickly work through the knots on your left wrist, which Yoonji tied so tightly you can’t feel several of your fingers anymore. Faster. Your nails are broken from tearing at the rope, and at one point the nail on your middle finger catches and gets stuck fast in the rope. The fire has spread to the carpet, and thick, black smoke is billowing up. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for the pain – it’s nothing compared to burning alive – and yank your hand back.

“Gah!” It’s a furious pain, for so small a point. The fingernail is ripped off your finger and hangs there as your nail bed bleeds freely. You force yourself to keep moving, to undo the knot or rip the rope off completely but the pain makes it hard to breathe…  or is it the smoke quickly filling the air? With movements made jerky by panic, you at last find a loose end and pull it through the knot. The rope around your wrist loosens and you’re able to slip your hand out. You’re not going to think about the fact that you can’t feel three of your fingers or move them properly. You’re free. You look around wildly, rushing for the door. You rattle the handle, but it’s locked. You can try to kick through it? But what if Yoonji is on the other side of the door, and shoves you back into the flames? The window next to the bed is locked too. But… You bend down and, straining, lift her entire bedside nightstand up. As soon as you stand your legs wobble and threaten to collapse, and you feel blood continue to drip down your neck and back. You stumble, almost to the window, but–

“Ugh-” You lose your grip and the nightstand crashes to the floor, almost on your foot. At that moment, you’re tempted to break down completely. What if you just… gave up? If you go through the window, you’ll probably die in the fall. Through the door, if you can even kick it down, and Yoonji will surely be waiting for you. You could just stay here, where at least death is a merciful certainty.

No – what are you thinking? You have to live. If you die, Yoonji will be free, and you won’t be able to tell your story. If you die now… she wins.

You adjust your stance and, arms trembling, lift the nightstand once more. The air is getting harder to breathe, you don’t know how much longer you have. You heave the nightstand at the window and it crashes straight through the glass, smashing down onto the street four stories below. Wait – the street. It must only be a little past midnight, because you can see some teens and adults still walking the street in costume. Passersby!

“HELP!” You shriek, waving your hand. You’re cut and bleeding in several places from flying glass, and you surely look fit for Halloween.

Wait. Hang on. One of the adults laughs and points up at you. “Great costume!” he yells.

“No, no, no…” the smoke is getting thicker, the fire closer. “Please- please help!” What you need to be a strong yell comes out a broken sob. “There’s a fire! Please help me!”

Two groups seem to realize it’s not just a Halloween prank, and you see some people whip out their phones to call the police. Several more rush forward, but clearly have no plan other than to stand beneath the window.

The police will take too long. You blink through the smoke, which is now visible through the window. You will not burn alive. And you won’t let Yoonji walk free, not after this. You brush the broken glass away from the windowsill and carefully step onto the ledge, a bleeding angel in the night. Your wings and white dress glow in such contrast to the walls that it looks like you’re flying.

You hear gasps and screams, and a “Don’t jump!”

Idiot. As though you have a choice. No, you only have one choice left, and you’re making it count. “My name is Y/n L/n,” You yell, forcing down a smoky cough, “And the person who killed me is Min Yoonji!”

No time to think. You step forward off the ledge, closing your eyes. Forty feet isn’t that far to fall, maybe you’ll make it.

Fucking Snickers bar.

[unsaidmar]

One, The meeting.

Plot: Both Spencer and Olivia mourn their losses. Maybe doing it together works best.

WC: 2k, I get carried away.

CW: Brief mentions of death.

A/N: Hi y’all! I’m very excited to share this. I submitted it for a creative writing assignment last week and I thought I would share it here too. This is the first time I post what I write and I kinda want to make this a series.

Olivia knew pain was lighter on the shoulders when carried with someone else, she was completely aware of the fact that pushing her friends and loved ones away was the last thing you’d want to do when grieving. Didn’t stop her, though. Opening up was a conscious effort she had to make.  

Lia had been gone exactly 467 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last.  Her mom had told her that pain didn’t have an expiration date, that she shouldn’t worry about getting over Lia’s death sooner than she was ready to, but nothing could help the feeling in the back of her mind, the little voice that reminded her that the world did not stop spinning when she left. Even if she felt like it did.

Mornings were almost automatic at this point. Get up, make an effort to look better, grab an excuse for breakfast, promise mamá you’ll get something else on the way to work, drive mindlessly to the place you knew like the back of your hand. The Grey Roots was special, it seemed to transform people’s perspective as soon as they walked in, it was full of memories and knowledge. That much was true for Spencer Reid.

Maeve had been gone exactly 278 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last. The team did their best to navigate around Spencer’s grief, always taking hints the he dropped. A fake smile that meant “we can ignore my loss today”, a shrug accompanied with the ghost of a smile that meant “today I’m feeling better, but I’m not expecting it to last”, and the words “I’m fine, I promise”, that roughly translated to “this is manageable today, so don’t ask me about it”.

The love and sense of protection the BAU had over Spencer was instinctual, which was hard when he seemed to be a thousand miles away while standing right there. Morgan had said that if isolation was what he needed right now, isolation he was going to get, but always with the promise of his friends running straight to him if he needed the comfort.

On his days off, he tried coming to terms with the loss. Loss was a tricky thing, Spencer thought. By definition, it was the state or feeling of grief when deprived of someone or something of value, so if it meant the absence of something, why did it feel like loss went with him everywhere?

The Grey Roots was a landmark in the man’s life. Maeve had recommended he visit the museum while they were corresponding, which he was more than happy to do, always trying to find a way to feel closer to her than he could actually be. Now his visits changed in nature, he was there to reminisce. To try and get the optimistic feeling of loving her to come back.

The stranger that usually walked around the museum with files in her hands went unnoticed for a while, but to her, Spencer had never gone unnoticed. She had been watching him his last four visits, visits that were a lot closer together than the usual visitors liked, which naturally, sparked her interest. She was drawn to him, always turning her head to check if he was there and her eyes lingering for a beat too long to try and come up with an excuse to start a conversation.

Olivia cared very little about dating and would usually turn down people’s advances, but as he sat there, earbuds in and basking in the sunlight the botanical garden side of the museum had to offer, she couldn’t help but hope he was one of those ballsy men that usually approached her. Apparently, the gods felt bad for Ollie, because as Spencer stood up to go, a book slipped out of his bag onto the floor. Oblivious to it, he kept walking.

“Thank the fucking gods” Ollie whispered to herself as she made a beeline for the book. Trying to reach the tall guy, she elbowed her way through the people walking in front of her and tapped him on the shoulder. Play it cool, dork.

“Hey” she said trying to get her breath back. “You dropped this back there” She tried not to fixate on the way his curls looked with the sun shining directly on them, or on the way his eyes took in her presence.

“Oh, thank you so much” He rushed out, grateful that he didn’t have to lose the last thing that connected him to Maeve and cursing himself for being so careless.

Make conversation, now. Say something. Anything. “I take it that’s important, you look relieved” she giggled to try and appear chill. Failing miserably, of course.

“Um, yeah. It was.” Beat of silence. “It is. It was a gift” He answered looking down at his feet, holding on to the book like it might disappear if he doesn’t.

Now, genuinely relieved she could spare him the disappointment, Ollie looked up at him. “Then I’m really glad you didn’t have to lose it” She replied, mirroring Spence’s thoughts, which made him smile.

To the doctor, looking at her felt almost offensive to Maeve’s memory, like she could see him staring curiously at this kind stranger whose eyes were enticing enough to make him forget how to talk. His best friend JJ was the best at reading his expressions and figuring out what he was thinking, she was smart enough to know Reid felt guilty for wanting to move on and leave the pain behind, so she made sure he knew that no one expected him to act like a widower forever, not even Maeve. After all, no one tells you how long you’re expected to mourn a loss, there’s no unspoken rule of appropriate sulking time. 278 days later still felt like too soon and just about enough at the same time. Strangely enough, he wanted to keep talking to this girl, and it would have to start with an introduction.

“I’m Spencer”

“I’m Olivia, but please call me Ollie” or call me anything you want.

“Ollie, good” he let out a giggle that was uncharacteristic of him to say the least. Mainly because he had never made it this far into a conversation with someone as pretty as Ollie. “You work here” It wasn’t a question, he noticed the plaque pinned to her shirt that read Dr. Olivia Vega, Conservator.

“Yes, I’m one of the conservators here. I know I might not look like it, but I promise I know my stuff” This observation prompted Spencer to give her a once over and he smiled at how right she was. She was wearing black cargo pants and a simple lavender t-shirt she seemed to have cropped herself, her arms were covered with little tattoos and her dark hair had streaks of purple in it. She was a sight to see, and hadn’t she been so kind and smiley, Spencer would’ve been intimidated by her. “My mom always says I look like I dropped out of high school to form my own punk band” She added, interrupting his train of thought. “I kind of agree with her now that I think about it, but I have a doctorate in history and that’s not very punk”

“Well, I’m a federal agent but I look like my grandpa, so I’m right there with you”

You do not look like a grandpa. “A federal agent, huh? The wall-climbing, gun-shooting, vest-wearing kind?”

“Sometimes, yes. But I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit so the work I do revolves around profiling people, we try to narrow down the suspect pool by studying the way the crime was committed and making educated guesses about what kind of person would do that and the possible motives behind it. I also have doctorates, but not in history” He said, glad he could sound cool in front of what appeared to be the coolest human ever. Maeve doesn’t mind you moving on, he repeated to himself.

“Judging by the fact that you didn’t introduce yourself as ‘Doctor so and so, but you can call me Spencer’ I think you’re nice and not full of yourself” Ollie joked. “I would have been super intimidated if you’d lead with that”

Is she a witch or am I thinking out loud? “You should see the people I work with. I look like a 12-year-old boy compared to them” She erupted in laughter, causing Spencer to blush. “I’m not kidding, they call me ‘kid’ and ‘pretty boy’”

They got that right, you are pretty. “No way, my older co-workers call me ‘kid’ too! And I’m their boss. The least they could do is call me Doctor Kid.” She pretended to pout.

A mom with a stroller trying to walk past them made the two realize they were still standing in the middle of the path, so entirely entertained with each other that they didn’t notice the third-grade class that had just passed them. As if the realization had struck them both at the same time, they looked back at each other, both of them trying to stretch the interaction as long as they could.

“Do you, maybe, want to have this conversation somewhere else? Perhaps not in the middle of the crowd?” She asked hopefully.

Taken aback by the offer, Spencer agreed and followed her back to her office, that looked exactly like he would expect it to. A bunch of framed pictures with friends and family covered the wall to his left, she had a jean jacket full of pins hanging behind the door and a bunch of miscellaneous books on a bookshelf right behind her desk, all of them with post its sticking out and what he assumed were her bookmarks.

After offering him coffee, they talked about all the things they had in common and relished on the things they didn’t. It was refreshing to get out of their heads and talk about something other than what stage of grief they were in. Spencer was glad that Ollie had approached him first, otherwise he wouldn’t have met her or even know she existed. A text from Penelope brought him back to reality and he sighed at his phone when he read it.

“I have to go, we got a case” He said, annoyed.

Ollie tried to mask her disappointment with an airy laugh, “Oh those fucking serial killers, so rude of them to interrupt our conversation”

Come on, Spencer. Say you want to see her again. Maeve doesn’t mind. Faster than he could process, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I want to see you again” He declared; eyes wide, afraid he came on too intense.

“Well, what a coincidence. I want that too.” She smirked, thanking the gods for all the love they seemed to be showing her today. She took a bright pink sharpie from her drawer and scribbled her number on Spencer’s palm. “Please, don’t wash your hand before you save the number”  She hoped she hadn’t blown her cover as the chilliest most relaxed person ever with that one sentence that sounded like she was begging him to call her. He took out a little white card from his bad and handed it to her.

‘SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit’. Two phone numbers were displayed along with the FBI logo. Which made Ollie look up to question it.

“Bottom one is my personal line; top one is the work phone” He anticipated the question.  

The shit eating grin he was wearing did not go unnoticed by her friends back at the BAU, but he brushed them and their raised eyebrows right off. This whole thing with Ollie was his to keep. At least for the moment.

That night, even though spent in a dingy motel a few minutes out of Redding, Pennsylvania, Spencer slept better than he had in 278 days. He wasn’t an outgoing person at all, he didn’t ask for numbers, he didn’t agree to have coffee in some stranger’s office, he didn’t text bright pink numbers sloppily written on his hand. But maybe the way they met was a sign that he should, maybe, no matter the outcome, he wanted to see where this led. Not even sure what this was.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I didn’t wash my hand” sent at 2:13 am.

“I mean, I did. Just not until I texted you” sent at 2:13 am.

Back at her own apartment, Ollie made a mental note to go visit Lia so she could hear all about the handsome man she had met. Following the advice her therapist had given her, she took out the notepad she had devoted to the letters she wrote her and started writing what she would give anything to be able to say to her face.

[nunukim-182]

Guilty [Revin Fic]

"Red! Good morning!"

"Red, did you see the Justin Timberlake concert yesterday?"

Two of the most popular kids at school, Wendy and Bebe, came up to me.They are my friends which I met in third grade, and they were popular and cool. All the boys and girls look up at them. And also, I was between them. Speaking of me, I am in the cheerleader team, and I’m the most hottest girl in my class. I had to maintain my dignity, and show myself to the most popular quinces. I could not break my fantasy about myself. and...

"Red, hi!" While I was talking to my friends, I looked back. Kevin Stoley. My childhood friend, and the class-famous geek boy. The faces of my friends are not unusual. Everyone's expression is, "Do you hang along with that nerdy kid?" 

Red, I wanted to talk to you, Kevin said. I hurriedly ignored him and continued talking with my friends, his voice beginning to grow smaller and smaller, and I focused on my friends’ conversations to avoid thinking of him.

Looking back a long time later, I looked around. He was not there. My friends forced me to lunch. I can’t stop thinking about Kevin Stoley. 

I am the worst person in South park.

I hurried back home, shrugging off the story of my friends playing. I pulled out the Star Wars DVD in my drawer and put it into my PC. I watched each of the scenes of the eighties’ crude CGs. I felt calm in my mind. In fact, I like Justin Timberlake and pretty, shiny things, but I also liked SF-related items and cosplaying. I knew that if I show my nerdy side,my reputation would fall to the bottom at school. So I had to act like I’m not a nerd. I was really envious of some kids who showed their nerdy ways. They've lost popularity, but they absorbed in their own favorites. If I could have lived without being seeing other kid’s reactions of mine...

I couldn't stop thinking about Kevin Stoley while watching the movie - our first meeting was when we were four. His dad was a huge movie fan, so we’d always went to theater once a week, or rent a video at home to watch a movie together- mostly a space opera movie. I didn’t understand the scenes and the plots because I’m too young, but we focused when they fight with a Lightsaber. When the movie was finished, we played together and went home. Kevin always played as Han Solo, and I was Princess Leah. It was so fun. 

I want to go back to those days.

I wish I could talk to Kevin again.

Wouldn't he is better than the girls who acts like two-faced Bitch?

While I was thinking about this and that, a text came.

[Hey, can you come out?]

Clyde Donovan. He was putting on airs because he won the most cutest kid in girl’s vote. I thought he was not cool. He's a little dumb. And the fact every girls know that Clyde Donovan like Bebe Stevens.

And you want to see me? Do he wants to hook me up?

I thought I can meet him once, and I pauzed the movie and went to the place where he called.

Stark’s Pond. It was the place where Kevin and I seeing stars through telescopes when we was first grade. I'm with a little- short fatass in a place of memory. It's the worst of the worst.

Clyde Donovan didn’t know the truth. He won the first place because the girls cheated the results for using him buying shoes. Also I cheated,too. The shoes are so pretty, so I have to get them somehow.

"Red. I wanted to meet you once. Do you want to date with me?"

What the fuck is he talking about? Besides,I don't really feel he likes me.

"Why? Don’t you have liked someone before?"

"Is there a reason for dating somebody? Oh! And I'll buy you shoes, too. My dad bought some good shoes today. It’s new."

That was a stupid answer. Yeah, you want to hook me up cause you think you’re so cute. Or did he want to make Bebe jealous? And in my head, angel and the devil are fighting. The conscience that I should never date with this fatass for Kevin's sake, and the other side, the sweet devil whispered to me that I can get new shoes every day if I date with Clyde.

Eventually I had to raise the devil's hand.

The news of the Fatass Clyde Donovan and Red McArthur dating spread quickly.

The girls were horribly envious. I know why they envy me. Because I can get Brand new shoes for Clyde every day. And the fatass keep his promise. Clyde sent me shoes every day. This was also possible because Clyde was a well-off kid in the South park.

But I haven't seen Kevin's face since I shaked my hands with the devil.

I can’t feel I’m dating well. In my mind, I should have dumped this fatass and met Kevin Stoley. I don't want to hear this pig's crappy-third-rate drama filtring...

In any situation, Kevin and Clyde’s actions always compared. When we have dinner together, when we have a cheesy conversation...Kevin would have done better. Kevin would never have done this. Already my heart was full of Kevin Stoley, the Geeky kid.

Walking at the hallway with the girls, I noticed Kevin's face while he was talking to Bradley. Kevin looked pretending to be okay but dark. You must be upset and angry. I understand. What I did was really cheap to be blamed for. The pile of shoes only made me feel like I was strangling. I don't want to date with this pig anymore.

I took out my phone to contact the fatass by text message. Surprisingly, the pig had a text message first.

[See you for a second.]

Why did Clyde want to meet me now?

I went to the place where he asked. The backyard of a school It's a place where Goth kids smoke. They weren't there. Clyde taked time to say something.

"Let's stop dating now. "

Hell yes! I was so happy that I almost flew into the sky. That's what I was going to say! But if I like it too much, I'll have a bad reputation, right? 

"Yes. I don't care if you think so."

"Uh. You'll meet a nice guy someday. "

The Devil's contract for such a week was fortunately over. Later, when it turned out that Bebe was in the lead of cheating, I only knew that Clyde was in a big betrayal and had a huge fight with Bebe. But I don't care about their love affair. I had to pay attention to myself for now. I took out my smartphone to contact Kevin. I had to talk to him, this pig has nothing to do with me.

At that moment my hand stopped. Will Kevin ever be happy about this? Or will he get angry at me?

It was complicated. I've been avoiding Kevin because of his falling popularity and geeky ways, and I didn't know if he'd accept me or not. But I certainly wanted to talk.

I didn't avoid Kevin because I didn't like him.

I'm just fear of my bad reputation.

I'm sorry I've been acting like a dick all the time.

I like Kevin.

But I couldn't send a message because I didn't have the courage to say these words. In the end, I decided to keep it in my mind.

I'm a coward.

A month has passed. Kevin's face brightened up. Still, he never greeted me as first as before. Did he give up on me? I didn't feel very good. I wanted Kevin to come up to me again. Maybe he's trying to distance himself, just like me in the old days.

It was a moment when I learned what Kevin felt about me in the past. I thought I should have told him quickly. But if I starting hang out with Kevin... Everybody will think it’s weird What do Wendy and Bebe think of me?

I hated myself for thinking like a nerdy kid about Kevin. I wanted to be honest. I couldn't even tell anyone. But I didn't want to ask my mom and dad for help. I could see the answer what they say. Mom was a redneck, so I could see exactly what she was going to say, and Dad would gloss over it somehow. Adults are not helpful.

I have to change!

I'm not going to hide it anymore.

At this rate, Kevin might get farther away.

When I came to my senses at that moment, I was standing in front of Kevin breathing hard. Next to him, his friends - Francis, Bradley and Dogpoo - were looking at me with a look of "What's going on?". Kevin's face began to turn red. Kevin's expression looked a little complicated. He looked at me and was at a loss what to do. I took a deep breath and shouted at his shoulder.

"Kevin! See you at Stark’s Pond today! After dinner!"

"Huh?"

“What ‘Huh?’ Kevin! I'm serious! Don't hang out anyone tonight! See you at 7.pm!"

Leaving Kevin alone in confusion, I hurried out of school. Heavy snow was falling in the gloomy sky. White, big snowflakes bumped into me. The snow on my hot face melted and cooled my face. I'm sure he will come out. But what should I say?

But I got my mind. I have to finish everything. Whatever I hear from Kevin...

The snow had almost stopped and was falling little by little. It was freezing cold. I could hear the sound of snow stamping from behind me. I could tell who it was, but I didn't want to look back. I wasn't confident.

"Red."

The voice almost similar to Craig stuck in my ear. the voice that speaks timidly without confidence. When his voice became confident, it was only when he talked about Star Wars, Star Trek, and science and math. If he act having a little confident, he wouldn't have been treated like a nerd. Kevin is stupid.

Whether he knew what I was thinking or not, Kevin approached me and began to speak softly.

"Now you want to talk to me? I've been waiting, Red."

Until you talk to me again, I don't know how long I've been waiting... Kevin blurted out the end of his words. I hated that. Why didn't he just talk to me first if he waited so long? I looked at him, who spoke so confidently. He was blushing. It must have been because it was cold, I wanted to think like that. When I saw his cute, red face, my face began to heat up. I felt like my heart pounding so hard. Where do I start with this? I sorted out all the complicated thoughts in my head step by step.

"I've wanted to talk to you, too."

I really wanted to talk with you, like in kindergarten, like in early elementary school, I wanted to see the stars again and watch a movie with you, I wanted to talk a lot about nerdy things. I wanted to stay with you all the time - my lips trembled every time I said. I couldn't stop crying. Hot tears trickled down the cheeks. The wind made my eyes freezing cold.

"I didn't want the others to think it was weird, so I ignored it even if you say hi to me. And it's not because I want to date Clyde before, he's giving hot shoes to me! That's why I dated with him. So... so..."

I'm sorry.

I felt relieved. It’s like feel when you put in a mint candy and take a picture of cool water. How will Kevin react? Maybe he will pissed off. Or he will leave here cursing at me saying two-face bitch.

But Kevin was too sweet to do that.

"I already knew."

Did he know that? So he was been patient and waiting until now. I feel so guilty.

"And I'm not mad at you, Red, no, Rebecca. I'm telling you, I was upset when you was dating Clyde, but I've never been angry with you, Rebecca Mcauther."

Kevin is a liar. It was a stupid sound. It was impossible that his favorite child acted like this and he wasn't angry. I grabbed him by the collar.

"Don't fuck with me! Tell me the truth! You're angry, aren't you? I've been avoiding you because my classmates treat you like a pussy! Why aren't you angry? Besides, I caused a scandal with Clyde Donovan! Are you a idiot? Get angry! Get mad! "

I looked at Kevin's face and let go of his collar again. I just made a sudden advance. Kevin carefully opened his mouth again.

"But I don't want to say bad things to you, Red."

I've liked Red since I first met you in South Park, and I thought I should put up with it if you could be happy. I want Red, Rebecca McArthur to be happy.

Every time he opened his mouth, my heart felt like it was melting. Kevin is sweet  and kind as I expected.

"Would you like me, even I act being dick to you again?"

Kevin answered my question right away.

"Yes. Everyone makes mistakes. And I like Red whoever you is. Even you’re not hot.”

This is why I couldn't hate Kevin Stoley. Everybody like me because of my appearance and popularity, but Kevin was the only kid who covered my shortcomings. So that’s why I kept Kevin in my mind. When people left and came back from me, Kevin Stoley was always be my side ever since, who could always listen to me and share my favorite things without laughing at me.

Kevin held me in his arms around me without saying a word. His short height didn't cover me up, but I hugged him tightly. A moon and a few small stars were shining on us in the black South Park sky. If time had stopped like this. It's cheesy, typical, and like a third-rate drama, but I whispered quietly in his ear.

"I like you, Kevin Stoley. You are like that shiny, little star.”

Kevin said in a small, but soft, sweet voice that I had ever heard.

"...I love you too, Red Mcarthur."

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

okie it’s my first time writing this in Korean and I wanted to show my fics to you guys! I had translated this for 4 hours. Google translations are suck and I thought I had to do this.

[ghosttotheparty]

say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

10. also on AO3 chapter nine

Lucas ignores Jens’t texts as long as he can. Which isn’t really that long. There are only three when he finally opens them. 

One from Sunday afternoon: Lucas, I’m sorry

It was sent about five minutes after Lucas left the flat, and Lucas had seen it in his notifications, and then he ignored it, pressing clear. He tried to focus on the painting, but his hand was a little shaky. He tossed the painting into the corner of his room when he got home (very late), not bothering to make sure it was dry. It’s still there.

Another from Tuesday night: Can I talk to you?

He’d ignored this one too. What is Jens going to say? What is there to say? Jens pretended not to know him, had lied to all of his friends, had lied to Lucas, and it seemed almost easy for him, seemed effortless to be this boy, this Jens that Lucas doesn’t know.

And the third from morning: Will you still come today?

Which reminded Lucas that it’s Thursday.

He didn’t open the text, didn’t tell Jens he would, even though he decided to subconsciously. And just as the sun begins to set, just as the sky turns cotton-candy-coloured, he set out to leave, nervously checking his messy curls in his mirror, even though he’s supposed to be mad. 

Something tells him he won’t be able to stay mad for long, though, as he makes his way to Jens’s dance studio. Maybe its that even though he’s mad, there’s still a flutter of excitement in his stomach, still looking forward to looking at Jens’s face, even if he’s glaring at it. 

The flutter grows until there’s a flock of birds in his stomach when he sees Jens standing outside in his grey hoodie, the hood covering his dark hair, talking to his friends. Lucas stops, his hands in his pockets, and he watches him, seeing how different he is now than he was on Sunday with the guys. He seems lighter, more playful, as he laughs when the red-haired girl throws her arm around his neck and rubs her knuckles against the top of his head. Jens pushes her away, into the tall, brown-skinned boy who lifts her up as another girl watches, laughing. Lucas has to fight a smile when he sees Jens laugh softly. 

The boy lets go of her but she clings to him, her arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala, and he shakes hands with Jens, bumping their fists together before turning away, and the girl waves over his shoulder. Jens bends down slightly so the other girl can press a little kiss to his cheek, and he waves back before she joins the others, jumping on the boy’s back so he’s carrying both of them. He doesn’t seem to struggle too much, though, both girls seem fairly petite, and he’s tall, with broad shoulders that they both grip as he moves down the sidewalk. 

Lucas’s eyes travel from the three to Jens and he sees Jens’s chest move as Jens sighs. Jens is watching them too, though his smile falters until it’s gone. He looks up at the sky, and Lucas considers how to approach him, hesitating, but then Jens is looking at him, his mouth dropping open slightly and his eyebrows raising in surprise, and Lucas moves forward to meet him. Jens’s hood looks like it’s framing his face. 

“You came,” Jens says as Lucas steps in front of him.

“You asked me to,” he replies quietly. Jens looks at him for a silent second, looks into his eyes, before looking away, over Lucas’s shoulder and then to his right, looking at all the dancers around them, though the number is dwindling. 

“Uhm…” He reaches out and gently grabs Lucas’s arm, pulling him toward the alley. He stops at the entrance, turning to look at him, and lets go of him abruptly. “I don’t really…” His eyes search Lucas’s, flicking back and forth between them and Lucas’s heart soften more than it already was. 

“Just—” Lucas doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to say. “Just explain… what’s up.”

“I—” Jens swallows and looks away. “I’m not good at this.” 

“Try.” Lucas sounds colder than he intended. “Please.” 

“I really like you.” 

Lucas doesn’t allow himself to smile and doesn’t say anything. 

“And you do know me,” Jens continues. “You know the real me, you’re the only one. And I don’t want to fuck everything up by…” He gestures aimlessly, looking away. “Fucking up.” 

Jens sighs shakily and looks into his eyes again. 

“They know Jens,” he says after a few seconds. “You know… Jens Jens.” He shrugs awkwardly and Lucas can’t fight the smile anymore. It crawls across his face, a soft smile that Jens watches, and when Jens smiles hopefully, Lucas steps closer, reaching up and wrapping his arms around his neck. His eyes close when he feels Jens’s hands creep over his waist to the small of his back, and Jens pulls his closer, taking a deep breath. 

“You’re not supposed to forgive me that easily,” Jens says quietly after a few seconds, and Lucas laughs into his neck. 

“You make it hard to stay mad at you.” He pulls away, slowly detaching himself, and presses a quick kiss to Jens’s jaw as he does. Jens drops his hands, looking at Lucas with the softest of smiles on his face. 

“I don’t have weed today, but…” Lucas nods at the dumpster. 

“Okay.”

Lucas smiles and makes his way to it, pulling himself up to sit against the wall, and watches as Jens pulls his bag over his head, tossing it next to Lucas. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Lucas asks as Jens pulls himself up as moves his bag away so he can sit next to him. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Lucas thinks for a second, his mouth twisting to the side. 

“Are you Jens Jens when you’re with your ballet friends?” 

“Hm.” Jens drops his head against the wall. “I think I’m… the same amount of Jens as with the guys, just…” He pauses, wincing as he thinks. “A different kind?” 

Lucas nods, and Jens continues, turning slightly so he’s facing him.

“Like there’s one Jens with the guys and friends from school, and another with my ballet friends.” He looks down, furrowing his brow and Lucas reaches out, running his fingers down the back of his hand before lacing them with Jens’s. Jens looks at their hands, moving his around Lucas’s twisting Lucas’s ring. “But I only see my ballet friends once a week for a few hours, unless there’s a recital coming up, so I’m not that Jens that often.” 

“Hm.” 

“So it’s not really like I’m pretending, or faking a personality when I’m with my friends, you know?” 

“Just not showing the whole truth?” Lucas says, and Jens smiles, as he remembers their past conversation. 

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever be Jens Jens with your friends?” Lucas asks as he plays with Jens’s fingers. 

“Mm… Maybe. I’d like to.” He’s quiet for a second. “I don’t really know how it would happen, though, like if one day I just… started acting weird. Real. They’d think it’s weird.” 

“Yeah. I’m not Lucas Lucas with my friends back home. Maybe I’ll just show up and say Antwerp changed me.” 

Jens chuckles quietly. His fingers twist in Lucas’s until he runs his thumb over the dark purple polish on Lucas’s nail, not saying anything. 

“You make me feel real,” he says quietly, almost under his breath.

Lucas smiles and looks at him, and then Jens pulls his hand out of his, pulling his hoodie up over his mouth, and his eyes squeeze shut as he yawns. Lucas begins to giggle and he drops his head onto Jens’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Jens says breathlessly. 

Lucas laughs harder. 

“You ruined a really good moment,” he says against Jens’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” 

Lucas pulls back to see Jens looking at him blearily.

“I’m just...so tired,” Jens says, and he sounds tired. 

“Why?” He pulls Jens’s hand back into his lap, running his thumb across his knuckles. 

“Ugh.” Jens drops his head onto Lucas’s shoulder now, and Lucas lays his head on top of Jens’s. “I told you my grandpa’s visiting right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ve been staying out late every night, just wandering and skating to avoid him.” 

“Hm. Why?” 

Jens sighs. 

“Because he’s shitty. He left my mom when she was a kid and only came around a few years ago.” 

“Oh,” Lucas says, wrinkling his nose. 

“And he kept complaining about Lotte.” He sounds sad.

“Lotte is…”

“My little sister.” 

“Why would he complain about her?” 

“Mm.” Jens pauses and Lucas waits, tracing the veins that he can see on the back of his hand. “She has autism. And he hated that she wouldn’t hug him, or look at his eyes.”  He’s talking slowly. “Sometimes she doesn’t talk, and he kept saying she needed to act her age.” A beat of silence. “She was only, like, five.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Yeah. And he kept talking shit about the ballet, kept telling me it;s for pussies. He slapped me when I talked back once.” Lucas squeezes his hand, angry at this mad he’s never met. “And kept telling my mom that Lotte and I would be better off if she found some guy to marry.” “This guy sounds like a real piece of shit.” 

Jens snickers softly. 

“Yeah. So I’m avoiding him completely. I think I’ve gone home at like midnight for the past few nights.”

“Mm. You still need to sleep.” 

“I am!”

“Not enough, especially if you’re waking up early for school.”

Jens groans dramatically and lifts his head, looking at Lucas. 

“It’s not good for your grades. Or your dancing, you need energy to dance,” Lucas says knowingly, raising his eyebrows, and Jens smiles. 

Jens lets go of his hands and Lucas watches as Jens moves on the lid of the dumpster, until he lays his head on Lucas’s lap. 

“You’re gonna sleep right now?” Lucas asks, amused, as Jens adjusts his hoodie. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Lucas’s hands are raised until Jens is settled, looking up at Lucas, and he drops one hand to Jens’s waist, sliding it over the thick fabric of his hoodie and the other to Jens’s head. He traces his fingertips over Jens’s face, his hairline, to his brows, over his closed eyes, down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, which curve into a smile, and around his chin and jawline. 

“What are you doing?” Jens asks quietly. 

Lucas traces his cheekbone before answering. 

“Drawing you.” 

Jens’s smile grows and he reaches out, grabbing Lucas’s hand from his waist and lifting it to his face, pressing the back of his hand to his cheek. 

“Lu?” 

“Mm-hmm?” Lucas smiles even though Jens can’t see it. 

“I missed you,” Jens whispers, and turns his face, pressing his lips to Lucas’s hand. 

“I missed you too,” Lucas breathes. It feels like his heart has almost stopped beating. 

He knows the moment Jens falls asleep, Jens’s grip on Lucas’s hand loosening enough that Lucas pulls his hand away without disrupting Jens, and he slides it to his chest, just barely able to feel his heartbeat. It doesn’t seem to bother Jens when Lucas keeps tracing his face. He does it carefully like Jens is a piece of priceless art. (He is.) Lucas listens to Jens breath, the long, quiet inhale and the sharp, heavy exhale, and feels it on his skin when he traces the curve of Jens’s lips. He pulls his hand away eventually, and puts it to his side, looking at Jens’s face fondly, studying him. The way his lashes spread like fans, the mole next to his eye (which Lucas would kiss if he could), the slight, almost unnoticeable stubble on his jaw. 

Striking. 

Jens takes a sharp breath and exhales slowly before turning his head and rolling his body, and Lucas slips his hand over Jens’s waist. Jens’s hands move as he takes another breath, one coming up next to his face and absently gripping Lucas’s hoodie, the other wrapping around himself, his fingers brushing Lucas’s. Lucas runs his fingers over the back of his hand softly so as not to wake him up, and Jens’s spread, letting Lucas lace them together, Lucas smiles down at him.

Jens turns his face into Lucas more and his hood hides his face. Lucas lifts his free hand and pushes it back gently until he can see him again. 

---

It’s totally dark out by the time Jens wakes up, and by that time, Lucas had drifted off as well, his head laying on the wall, his fingers still laced with Jens’s. He wakes to a buzzing sound and Jens saying, “Oh, shit,” under his breath as he pulls his hand from Lucas’s and reaches into the pocket of his hoodie. Lucas laughs softly and watches as Jens answers the phone, dropping his head back onto Lucas’s lap. 

“Hey, I’m—” He’s interrupted by a muffled, rapid voice on the other end that Lucas can hear, and Jens’s eyes widen and he grins. 

“My mom,” he mouths and Lucas copies him, wincing as Jens tries not to laugh into the microphone. 

Lucas slides his hand to Jens’s chest as Jens listens and Jens holds his hand over Lucas’s, trailing his fingertips over his skin. Lucas shivers slightly. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Jens says, closing his eyes, and Lucas snickers, lifting his other hand and running his fingers over Jens’s forehead before slipping them under hid hood into his hair. 

“I understand—” Jens gets out before he’s interrupted again. After a few seconds, he tries again. “Mom, I know, I understand, I’m sorry. I won’t stay out this late again.” 

Lucas presses his lips together, suppressing laughter. 

“Okay… Okay, I love you.” Jens opens his eyes and looks at the sky. “Okay, I love you.” After a second he pulls the phone away and drops his hand on his stomach. He looks at Lucas.

“Too late.” 

“It’s pretty late.” 

“Yeah.” Jens sits up and Lucas’s hands fall away. They look at each other, smiling softly. Lucas wants to kiss him. 

“I think that was the best I’ve ever slept.” Jens sounds groggy, his words slurring together like he’s tipsy. 

“Yeah? I’m the magic pillow?” 

“Mm.” Jens smiles and closes his eyes, quirking his eyebrows up quickly. 

But if he kisses him now, he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop. 

“Am I gonna be able to see you before next Thursday?” he asks as Jens pulls his bag over his shoulders and jumps down. 

“I don’t know,” Jens says, lifting his hand, and Lucas takes it before hopping down. Jens doesn’t let go. “My mom just said she wants me home to spend time with my grandpa.”

Lucas wrinkles his nose as they move into the sidewalk. Under the streetlight, Jens stops and turns to look at him, their fingers linked between them. 

“I’ll text you if I’m free at all,” Jens says. 

“Okay.” 

And Lucas really, really wants to kiss him. 

Like a lot. 

“Bring a skateboard on Thursday, I wanna take you to a park,” Jens says, oblivious to the turmoil in Lucas’s mind. 

“Your favourite park?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Just one wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“And maybe bring a jacket, I think it’s supposed to rain.” “I will.” 

It’s like they’re both wasting time. 

“I’ll see you later?” Jens says, not making any moves to leave. “Maybe?  Hopefully?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas says quietly. 

Just one. For now. 

He lifts up to his tiptoes and raises his chin, leaning in, and presses his lips to Jens’s. Only for a second. And he pulls away. 

Jens’s eyes are half-closed and unfocused, his mouth hanging ajar. His lips are just beginning to curve into a small half-smile when Lucas squeezes his hand and steps back. 

“Bye.” 

He hears a quiet “Bye,” in response as he walks away, and he smiles to himself. 

He’s still smiling when he gets home, still smiling as he brushes his teeth, as he changes into an oversized t-shirt and shorts, still smiling as he turns off his lights, still smiling as he lays on his back, and as he looks at the ceiling, and as he falls asleep. 

[lunarrwolf]

black butterflies [colby brock]

fandom: sam and colby/traphouse

pairing: colby x self

word count: 1,864

part(s): one two

summary: after a prank gone wrong, colby and his friends meet another youtuber during her meet and greet in hopes it will cheer her up

A/N: this is a self-insert because it’s a fic that was started for my own personal pleasure. it was supposed to be shared last year on my fan account after a poll was done but never was bc i ended up not feeling ready to do so. i figured since i‘m ready to share it now, it would be best to do it here since it’s pretty detailed

TWO

She was going to be okay, right? She didn't need Casey to be there every step of the way. The redhead wasn't even needed for the business over in California. She always did perfectly fine without her longtime friend in all the solo videos. Casey was only there for a fraction of the recorded moments. Besides, the argument that night made it clear that she only ever pretended to enjoy the spooks that came with being a part of the channel. There was never any pure joy or thrill that usually came with experiencing such things with your friend. Yet those were half of the best memories Kirsy had with her since the beginning of the channel. They'd been best friends since eighth grade, and yet one prank likely destroyed a friendship of seven years. It was a sad fact that she had to suck up and admit so it wouldn't ruin the trip. So far the only bright side was that her best friend since her sophomore year of high school was going to be keeping her company.

“Please don't tell me you're sulking.” She blinked, realizing she was thoughtfully staring at the half packed suitcase on her bed. She turned her head to the doorway that had a twenty-four year old leaning against it.

Aiden met Kirsy during a school talent show that she was chosen to film. He was one of those viewers always looking for new people to subscribe to, and he found her page only weeks before the show when she had around 1,000 subscribers. He helped a lot with photos and editing, and was the only person who was a real friend for her out of the new ones she made after her channel became widely known. After Casey left, he stepped up as what he described as the 'better best friend’.

She sighed at the raised eyebrow adorning his face and sat on the bed, crossing her legs. “I have a right to sulk, jerkface.”

“Jerkface? You've had better insults than that.” He straightened his posture and walked over to the girl, sitting on the other side of the suitcase. “Was it fair to spring a horror movie on her less than a week after her return from vacation? No- no it was not. But she was in the wrong to just leave you like that. You apologized several times, and has she responded at all? No. And why?”

“I really don't want to have one of your sometimes vulgar speeches right now-”

“Why hasn't she replied?”

Kirsy sighed and hung her head back, letting silence sink in for a brief moment. “Because she’s a jealous supporting character who only stayed because I ended up making money from my videos?”

Aiden raised his eyebrows and leaned back against the mattress, “That wasn't a statement.”

“Well what is it that you want me to say?!” She lifted her arms in exasperation, throwing herself back only to realize that the half empty trunk was still there. She groaned, hiding her face in the side of the object as the young man beside her rolled his eyes.

Once he became familiar with the ginger himself, he was an eyewitness to all fights and disagreements between the pair, as well as the resolutions that came along with them. After the second or third time, he started to observe the way they interacted with one another. Kirsy used to have a tendency of going too far with what she said or did but stopped when she saw how it affected people, which is why this last prank really surprised him. On the other hand, Casey was someone who held grudges and would say the opposite of what she meant when she was upset by something. Her temper raised more than others he knew, and after such a long vacation from the type of content his friend makes, it probably pushed her off the edge. It wasn’t right to pull a stunt like that but it was less right to refuse to resolve issues or just be civil after the other party puts in so much effort to fix a wrong.

They may have become friends when he was a senior and they were sophomores, but he considered Kirsy his closest. She was the type to either not be fazed by other people or bottle things up if she was; there was never an in-between. He watched her bemused as she kept her face on the side of the suitcase, reaching for a pillow to throw on top of her head. “I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to stop being so depressing.”

“Depressed is my default.”

There was a beat of silence after her muffled reply, then laughter broke out in the empty room. She lifted her head from underneath the pillow to see Aiden trying to keep himself from laughing too hard. He didn’t know if it was because of how she sounded or because of the fact she said it so casually, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing her friend enjoy himself over something she said did make her feel better. So - she threw the object back at him and sat up. He dialed it down immediately, chuckling when they made eye contact. “I’m sorry but while that wasn’t the thing I was looking for, it was something. And you need to realize that you can’t control what other people do and how they handle things. You can, however, control how you handle shit. Now I say you finish packing so we can get our asses to fucking California and you can show me off to all of your west coast kids.”

She stared at him for a short moment before pointing at him, “See? Vulgar speech.” He rolled his eyes and she grinned, hopping off her bed to go to her closet.

The young man followed suit, staring at the mostly black attire. “Alright- you better pick the cutest alternative clothes you have if we’re going to be meeting cute boys.”

Kirsy rolled her eyes immediately, not surprised at all with her friend’s judgement and eagerness for them to find boyfriends. Or even just someone for each of them only for the time they would be over there for the trip. “We’re going to Los Angeles, Aiden. Where is there going to be a cute guy who’s also not going to end up being a jerk?”

-

The former blonde eyed the boy going over how they could approach the vlogger when the time comes.

Colby didn’t want to come off cocky or dismissive by bringing up their channels. He also didn’t want to seem too eager since they all now watched her videos just as much as she did theirs. It felt like there was a lot riding on this. It was different than if they would run into each other at a convention somewhere, and he didn’t fully know why. At least, he would always tell himself he didn’t know. “Her meet up isn’t for another two days- why are you freaking out?”

He slumped over the counter, planting his head down into his folded arms. His roommates and closest friends all watched him with knowing looks as he tried several times to brush off the subject. He met each of their gazes, “I’m not freaking out. I just want her to meet some nice people.”

“Her fans are nice people.” Corey cut in, jumping up to sit on the counter across from the kitchen’s island.

The dark brunette only attempted the same trivial action, waving a hand to dismiss the sentence as if it wasn’t a fact. He knew how great a community the girl built up. She always talked about wanting to grow her own family and have that connection with so many people; not one based off of fandoms she was in but based on her own content and genuine following. He was one of those members, only he kept it more low-key than his friends in order to let her have that part of her dream. What Corey said rang, yet at the same time- “Ones she can talk to. I’m sure she would love to meet someone who understands.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you like her.” Jake stated, raising an eyebrow at his friend, daring for him to deny it. It was something he was ready to do the moment the words left his roommate’s lips.

It just didn’t make sense to develop feelings of any kind for something you’d never met or even spoken to - did it? They were two YouTubers who started at different times, somehow never ran into one another at conventions, and she was a fan of his and his roommates long before she started launching her own career in this industry. He never followed the account she had that was mostly dedicated to him but he remembered liking countless posts and reading some of the captions directed at him that he never replied to.

He did notice how similar they were - sense of style, music taste, outlook on life and the many hair color changes - but it couldn’t have stirred anything up. Maybe he just knew that they would get along well if they met in real life versus just knowing that the other existed. There didn’t have to be a whole situation where he developed a crush on a girl who made a fan account for him and showed up in his mentions a lot. Someone who was a fan of him and his content for years before he even acknowledged her; and that was before she started her own channel and brand. At the same time though, before she stopped tagging him in edits and posts, every time she would respond to his posts and such were done without sounding like an actual fan. From the few times he would catch her comments, she made it seem as if they were friends. And her replies always matched his own feeling and hope of someone understanding what he would mean.

The self proclaimed ‘emo god’ of the group could only voice his denial before announcing his leave of the kitchen. After so long, his closest friends knew exactly how their comrade behaved when he was attracted to or was beginning to like someone. They knew he was going to be in denial for at least the two days leading up to all of them seeing the twenty-two year old off screen.

When Colby reached his bedroom, he threw himself on top of the large covers on his bed, placing his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. The ding that indicated a Twitter notification sounded in the silence, and he fished his phone out of his pocket. He saw that he’d been tagged in another post and decided to check it out, expecting it to be art or some selfies for the trend his fans started. It was the latter, although it ended up being a tag from Kirsy’s account. He looked at the photos thoughtfully before pressing the heart on the screen.

Maybe there was another reason for going to her meet up.

[dredreadsdrawing]

Oc-tober day 5: Old

For Day 5’s challenge, I brought back what I believe to be my first trans character haha. This will start as cringe plz bear with me. Im copy pasting the Quickie I had planned for a post in my writing blog.

PunchLine: Quickie Summary

Just suddenly grew nostalgic of this story lol. Notes before delving into the plot:

-        I literally started this story’s concept when I was in 5th – 6th grade and first watched Ouran High School Host Club. My kid brain was mad at Haruhi for not taking advantage of her passing as a boy so I made what started as a self-insert oc that gradually transformed into my first trans character ever. Whack, lol.

-        Just a side thing, most of my damn stories have playlists and I swear, All Time Low/All American Rejects songs are exclusively this story’s official soundtrack.

-        The main character’s name is super…. Wow lol. Please bear with me I might change it, just… this was a story I started making when I was 11 and really liked ‘unique’ names instead of conventional ones >X,,D

-        Please have mercy on my tiny weeb soul.

Lolol ok, plot start naw. Keep in mind I was very influenced by anime at this point of my life so I started this in a stereotypical Japanese setting but made it more Americanized over the years. Big oof.

Protagonist (I called em Echo lol) is a hella poor girl living pretty much by herself in a shitty apartment. Her aunt is her caretaker but she’s never home and she doesn’t work. Echo has to work a job herself to make money for food. She has a quiet personality, long, terrible hair with split ends everywhere, and a boxy frame. She works doing lots of manual labor, adding to her poor health.

Because she’s always been quiet, no one knows who she really is. She’s just ‘that poor girl who never talks’,  and they mostly leave her alone. One particularly shitty night however, after getting fired without her pay, she gets caught by some hotshot popular dude and his cronies with her work uniform on. Kids aren’t supposed to work. He takes a picture and threatens to turn her in if she doesn’t follow him. He’s just looking for some easy fun with a docile girl he can make do anything. She’s done being docile.

In true anime fashion she beats the hell out of these dudes, trash talking them the entire time. She’s merciless, bashing them all black and blue until they pass out. Only once everyone but the main instigator is down does she take his phone. “I have back-ups!” The boy exclaims through broken teeth. She looks at him and posts the image onto his feed herself. She’s done going to school anyways. She destroys the phone, laughing, and he loses consciousness. She gets up and dusts herself off.

She had a spectator. Some dude had watched the whole thing from his fancy car. He thinks he could use someone like her.

The following week goes as expected. She’s expelled. Her aunt came to act as a concerned guardian in front of the school but left immediately after. She took Echo’s savings. Echo is laying in her mattress on the floor, pretty much wishing to be dead when a knock on the door breaks her concentration.

Oh boy. It’s the spectator dude with two other boys (one of em may end up being cut lol). He has a proposition. She join their prestigious team from some fancy school for something (idk I initially had her join a mob lol but these kids are still in highschool. Maybe their fighting club?) and they’ll pay for her tuition and living expenses. But there’s a catch. The team is boys-only and she has to crossdress. She signs up immediately anyways lol. From now on, she will live as a boy (so I will use he/him pronouns).

Hmm… mayhaps the reason Echo has such a ‘unique’ name is because he chose it himself. Like the edgy teen he is. Cries.

Echo packs his stuff and goes with em. He hears the specifics about his new group. Eric is the leader, who’s father founded the group. He clearly puts on an aura of being tough and in control, but his delivery is too forced. The spectator dude that found Echo is his co-leader, a guy who actually knows what he’s doing, but doesn’t want to overthrow Eric because he thinks it’s funny seeing him struggle. He is a dick lol. Depending on whether or not I’ll use him, the third dude is Eric’s best friend from childhood meant to be the soft one who helps Echo settle at first.

Moving on, I don’t have a coherent timeline of events, just scattered things that will happen. For sure, Eric and Echo keep butting heads, mostly because Eric tries to control Echo and the group as a whole too much, and Echo is like ‘dude, your demanding for perfection only makes me want to screw things up more to show you how unhealthy your expectations are. And also cuz youre cute when you’re mad.’

Eric has a legacy to live up to. He’s the classic worrywart trying to live up to an image and failing. Echo was brazen at first with his trying to mess Eric up, but he softens as he realizes how much it effects Eric. They eventually hear eachother out and come to a compromise. That’s the start of their friendship.

Then, a year later, comes Kimmie. She’s Eric’s childhood crush. She’s short, she’s plump, and she has a rude attitude. Eric’s been a simp for her since he was a kid. He tries way too hard to make her see him as a romantic partner; she’s the reason he grew out his hair when he heard her casually mention she likes it long.

What’s his reason for liking her so much? When they were kids, Eric was plump too, but unlike with her, kids would pick on him because he always just took it. She defended him a lot, and her fiery personality mixed with her ability to hit kids and get away with it made her feared. He idolized her ever since.

She reacts to this as well as you’d imagine a childhood crush staying just a crush is handled. Meaning she clearly sets up walls around him and tells him he’s not interested. Echo, however, catches her eye.

After a P.E session, Kimmie follows Echo to his usual changing place and catches him with his top off. Kimmie knew Echo was a ‘girl.’ Kimmie explains she had seen Echo before his transition. Echo laughs it off, finding her brazenness cute. “So what now? You wanna tell the school?” “… I require you for something actually…”

Kimmie is dating Echo now. Eric is devastated. Kimmie flaunts Echo around like a trophy, breaking many girl’s hearts that had previously asked him out. Echo has to follow her around as a part of their deal, but he doesn’t mind it. The more he learns about her, the more he likes her.

Eric tries to confront him about it along with his friends. Eric’s approach is…. Well… “You’re faking this, right? You don’t like girls, you’re not really a boy!” “Dude, I like what I like. Deal with it.” This response further punches Eric in the gut as everyone laughs nervously.

Some big event comes and Echo is Kimmie’s plus one. Eric doesn’t want to attend it so he stays in the mansion. Echo is feeling the guilt of the situation more with each day that passed. At the event, him and Kimmie have a great time, but when they escape the crowd and are alone, she tries for a kiss. Echo doesn’t proceed. Kimmie is disappointed, but Echo explains.

“I know the real reason you wanted to date me. It’s the same reason you touch my chest so much, why you wanted to see me in a dress, and why you told Eric you like long hair. Kimmie, you like girls.” He steps away from her. “And I can’t be your girlfriend in disguise.”

Kimmie is floored. She begins to cry. Echo is right. She’s a lesbian but she never wanted to accept it. She kept telling herself she’d find the right boy, and when Echo came, it felt so perfect. She thought she could just slip in and pretend that she was straight. But she isn’t.

She apologizes. She says, however, that she truly does like Echo now. Echo sighs and rubs their neck. “You can’t like me Kimmie… I’m not…” Kimmie thinks it through. “But… you were a girl before! The only reason you’re dressed like this is because of the contract!” “Yeaaaah… but I kinda like it now. This feels…. Better. More me.” Echo grins with confidence. “I’m a man now.”

Kimmie takes Echo’s figure in and sighs. “Ew. I can’t be date a man.” They laugh and break up, Echo going back home. Kimmie returns to the party and is spotted by one of Eric’s friends. He asks where Echo is and she tells him everything. Echo is going home, him and Kimmie just broke up. The friend tells Kimmie some comforting words before running away to the hall to call Eric and tell him the good news. Kimmie is available again, and he can be more aggressive this time!

Eric is slumped in the couch after binging Netflix and eating a pint of icecream. When he hears the news, his mind is stuck on only one piece of information. Echo is coming back home. Instead of feeling happy about Kimmie being available again, Eric realizes Echo is coming back after a break up. His worrywart tendencies has him picturing a comedically sobbing Echo, ruthlessly broken up with by Kimmie, wondering how he could continue to live without her. He cleans up the couch and by the time Echo enters, he’s saved him a spot on the couch and his own pint of icecream. Echo laughs but sits right beside him, accepting the comfort, even if Eric doesn’t know the full story. They have a nice night together, and by the morning, Kimmie’s sexuality is revealed thanks to a picture she posted in her social media celebrating with a girl she kissed.

She’s officially out and happier for it. Eric congratulates her when they run into eachother in the hallway. She’s surprised he’s not as sad as she expected him to be, but she’s touched by how genuinely kind he’s being to her. They stay friends, and even get closer thanks to Kimmie now putting her walls down again.

Movin on to another story event, Eric’s mom has been away for most of Echo’s stay, but she comes back. Eric has made it clear that Echo should stay away from her, and never let her know his transition. She somehow finds out thanks to some mishaps anyways. When the contract is revealed, she is ASTOUNDED that her boy would force a GIRL to live as a MAN. She’s putting a stop to this! She takes Echo away for a weekend spa treatment, girling Echo up, talking over him through the whole thing, never listening to his complaints and only reassuring herself that Echo is safe now and free to be pretty and feminine once more! It’s the proper way!

Needless to say Echo is uncomfortable.

The more Eric’s mom talks about herself and her own life, it’s clear that her way of thinking stems from some issues she had as a kid, being forced to work and to give up feminine things, but Echo doesn’t feel like she did at all. And though Echo enjoys some of the spa things, and doesn’t much mind being put in a dress, he just… prefers a suit. Would rather stay at home training with the group. Would rather keep his hair short as opposed to the length Eric’s mom proposes him to grow it at. It’s a bunch of little things, but they culminate in solidifying to Echo… he just wants to stay a boy. He’s not being forced to be one. He genuinely likes it.

When they return from their trip, Echo is in a skirt and heels. He is dolled up with professional make up and styled hair. The group ogles him, but as comments get thrown around about how good Echo looks as a girl, Eric can’t feel the same. He just feels it’s too… off. He doesn’t bring it up, he’s afraid he’ll hurt Echo’s feelings. All his mom’s mutterings got to him, and Eric feels guilty for forcing Echo to live as a man. 

During dinner, he reassures his mom and Echo that they can get rid of the contract and Echo can live in their house and attend their school clause free.

Echo stops him right there.

“I don’t want to be a girl. I’m a boy.”

Eric and his mom are confused. They try to reassure Echo, but Echo continues. “No. No offence ma’am, but all weekend, you have talked over me, never listening to what I have to say. I don’t want to be a girl. I am not like you. I do not share your experiences nor your desires. I like being a boy. I like being called a boy. I like dressing like a boy. I want to be known as a boy.”

Echo gets up.

“I’m going to go change now. But before I go, I want to keep the contract. I have no problem with any of the conditions.” Echo looks at Eric and smiles. “I like being a part of the group and competing with you guys.” He’s flustered by his sincerity. Echo leaves. For the rest of the day, Echo is unbothered in his room, but when night comes, Eric goes up to bring him some food.

Echo didn’t really wash off the make up very good (damn that high quality stuff), and his hair is a mess. But he’s in comfortable clothes and he brings in Eric so they can hang. They talk about trivial stuff at first, spend an hour playing a game, and when it’s 3am, Eric gathers the guts to talk about it. That he’s glad Echo stood up for himself, and he sees him as a boy too. Echo bursts into laughter, teasing Eric.

“So that’s what you were so nervous about. I thought you were planning to ask me on a date.” More flustered Eric. “W-Why would I-“ Echo gives him a half hug that stops him, hiding his own blushing face. “Thanks…” Eric hugs him back. It’s yet another sweet moment before they finally get together…. In some other event in the future mwahahaha. Idk, I haven’t decided yet when they confess and actually start going out ;p cries.

Welp, there ya go. This is a story I still cringe at because of how anime it starts but damn these chars got me. I love Echo, Eric and Kimmie ;o; I’m sorry I’m a sucker v-v

[greenninjagal-blog]

Wishing On Stars

So, fun story! Remember that quick one shot I made [Idle Threats] that was not quick at all and featured Deceit punching a guy in the face? Guess who made a sequel!

Word Count: 4958

Pairings: Brotherly Thomas and Deceit

Summary: Dee’s world is shifting and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @felicianoromano @jemthebookworm @holliberries @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @treasureofpriam

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dante Ethan Ekans has never thought of himself as dumb. It’s simply not something he’s ever allowed himself to consider the possibility of. So what if his grades sucked and he couldn’t even buy a candy bar at the market with his unweighted GPA? So what if he wasn’t in any honors clubs or wearing nerd glasses or correcting his teachers in class? So what if he had never found a grammar error in his textbooks or maxed out his library card (can those be maxed out?)?

Dante Ethan Ekans—ugh just call him Dee—was not, is not, and never will be “dumb”.  He’s fought for his grades and lost, he doesn’t have time to waste on honor clubs, and its not like he needs to give his teachers anymore reasons to hate him. Since when has anyone actually read the textbooks? And he’s never really found a good book that keeps his attention past the third chapter.

But that’s never meant that he was dumb.

And fuck Dr. Logan Ackroyd for making him question that about himself.

Dee leans forward on the rickety structure, pressing his head into his arms into the cool metal bars as he does. He wants to stare up at the stars, wants to bury his head in his arms and sleep, he wants to tear the the packet of papers in his right hand to shreds and then feed it to Dr. Ackroyd with a sneer.

The stars over head twinkle, because that’s all the stars do. Dee had learned at the lovely age of six, no amount of wishing on the stars was going to change how reality had panned out. Stars were just lights in the sky with no ability to bring his dad back or obscure the burn marks on his face. 

The papers crinkle in his hand, like a campfire, like a car crash that once again ruined his life. Or is ruining. Or, perhaps, is in the process of ruining? It feels like it, like everything good and great that Dr. Ackroyd had promised was collapsing on him and suffocating him all over again.

“I know you can do it,” The teacher had said.

And Dee really hates him for it. Really hates Mr. Walker for that car accident he was in and for not coming back, hates Dr. Ackroyd for showing up with his gaze of steel and his stupid ties and his “equality under the law” reign that’s dragged Dee from the cave everyone had exiled him too and let him enjoy a bit of light. 

Sure, Dee can do it. He can also throw himself from the top of this old playground set and fracture his arm or something so he doesn’t have to go back to that stupid room and see that stupid teacher ever again.

The stars blink down at him, and maybe they take pity on the boy who aced Dr. Logan Ackroyd’s midterm test last week, because Dee thinks they look a little less distant than before.

He knows he’s not dumb. He knows that the formal red pen on the test, the long line, the circle and the next long line mean something great and amazing is on the brink of happening. He knows that Dr. Logan Ackroyd is to blame for it, because the man has no time for jokes and no time for nonsense and no time to waste leading Dee astray.

He knows the man means well.

He knows that he hates him for it.

Since when did anyone look at Dee and “mean well”? Since when did any teacher look at him and see something worth believing in? Since when had Dee wanted them to?

Dee knows when: since at exactly nine hours and nineteen minutes ago when Dr. Ackroyd had called him to "please, wait a moment, Mr. Ekans! Its imperative I talk with you." And Dee like a fool (which is completely different from being dumb, thank you very much. Dee very much was a fool), had paused just short of fleeing the classroom.

(Kyle Phillips had shoulder checked his way by him, the healing purples of his black eye just visible under the layer of concealer his mother had applied that morning and he had worn away through the day.)

Dr. Ackroyd had taught up to the bell, or at least he had talked up to the bell. Dee and the rest of the class had stopped paying attention after 2:15. For a terrifying second Dee had felt a cold hand clench his heart and the voices in his head whispered that this was it, the end, Dr. Ackroyd was finished pretending to be nice to him.

"I hope you don't mind if we walk while we talk," Dr. Ackroyd had said (and it most certainly was "Doctor" because the man had snarled something about several PHDs the last time a student had mistakenly called him Mister Ackroyd. To be honest it had been a little hard to make out while the man was foaming at the mouth). Dr. Ackroyd had gathered all of his teaching notes, several stacks of worksheets that needed grading, and his laptop into a bag and pulled it over his shoulder. 

"You have a younger sibling to pick up at Mind Elementary, correct?" The teacher had asked, "I happen to have a colleague I am meeting there as well. To prioritize our time, it would be efficient to talk while we walk.” 

And Dee hadn’t had a reason not to agree so instead he nodded and let the teacher lead the way.

On their way out of the building, they had run into Mr. Hart who had wished them “a wonderful rest of the day, and oh, Logan, text me when you’re both at the restaurant!” Dr. Ackroyd had waved him off with a soft smile and two seperate promises. Dee hadn’t seen any sign of Resource Officer Roman Prince anywhere, and he was silently grateful he didn’t have to watch the adult man sulk because Mr. Hart showered Dr. Ackroyd in love the second he entered any room. Dee had made sure to avoid that growing drama like the plague. It was a soap opera in the making.

They had carefully trekked out of the school building and down the walking path that lead to the student parking lot and then branched off to the sports fields and to the Elementary school. Dee normally tried to procrastinate the walk for a good fifteen minutes to avoid the drivers that like to play chicken with the kid walking on the sidewalk while they waited for the traffic to ease up. But no one would dare try to run him over with the new substitute teacher by his side.

(The rumor was that Dr. Logan Ackroyd could stop a truck moving at 100 miles per hour with just a look, and Dee wasn't immune to propaganda.)

Dee had focused on how nice of a day it had been outside, how the sun was shining so it wasn’t too cold, how the grass peaking out of the cracks in the sidewalk were rather resilient and how many breaths he was taking and was that too many? Was he annoying Dr. Ackroyd? Should he take less? Could he? How important was it for him to breathe?

"Mr. Ekans," the teacher had said, "I'm not exactly one for beating around the bush with these types of things. Patton often tells me I am too blunt, while Roman criticizes my delivery. However, I believe the best way to approach any subject is straight on to avoid deluding you with false pretenses."

Dee had wanted to state the hypocrisy: the teacher rambling on about how he should just say something instead of talking around it. But his heart rate had increased with every word which in turn caused his mouth to dry and his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. 

“I finished grading the midterm you took,” Dr. Ackroyd had said.

It had been so much worse than any of the thoughts had been swimming through his mind. His chest tightened, his breath silently disappearing and his lungs refusing to work the way they were supposed to. He had wanted to apologize, had wanted to melt into a puddle on the sidewalk right then and there and safe himself from the embarrassment. He had wanted to avoid the part where Dr. Ackroyd tells him so plainly that he never should have risked his reputation for someone as worthless as Dante Ethan Ekans.

But Dee was only human, only a child, only normal. He stared hard down at the sidewalk at the patches of squashed gum that students had spit out in the past while waiting in traffic, at the tuffs of grass peeking up through the grass, at the loose rocks that his scuffed yellowed shoes tapped against.

“Speaking quite frankly,” the teacher had continued, “I was impressed--”

And Dee had really stopped breathing. His chest had heaved, the gasping word billowed past his lips before he could think to keep it back. “What?”

Dr. Ackroyd had reached up and tentatively adjusted his glasses. “I was relating how impressed I was with your test. As I predicted you are far ahead of your class-- far enough that I put in the request to have you moved up to my higher level class.”

“Wait what--” 

“Additionally, your performance exceeded my expectations. You exemplify more dedication to learning than any other student I have seen in a good three years, Mr. Ekans. I entered your missing work last night and you far exceed the requirement for the Science Honor Society. I took the liberty of reaching out to Mrs. Hydrus on your account--”

“Stop!” Dee had blurted out. His mouth tasted like ash, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his head was still ringing from being completely blindsided by the information he had just been given.

Dr. Ackroyd had paused, taking span of three steps to adjust his glassed once again and peer down at Dee. “Pardon? Is there something the matter?”

It was horribly pretentious when he said it like that. In retrospect, Dee groans into his arms and wishes he could invent time travel solely to go back and stop the two of them from ever meeting, from ever having that conversation, from ever existing. Logically, what the teacher had been saying was amazing news, the news of a lifetime: he had gone out of his way to do things for Dee that no other teacher had done and it honestly hadn’t ever occurred to the doctor that he hadn’t needed to do it at all.

“I can’t,” Dee had told him kicking a rock on the sidewalk. He didn’t elaborate, because it hurt so much to get two words out, he couldn’t imagine getting anymore out. He had wondered absently when he had allowed the rose bush to grow around his own neck, allowed to prickly, pesky thorns to embed themselves in his throat, when those blood red petals that had matched the flushed color of his face.

Dr. Ackroyd had let him walk another ten paces in silence-- as silent as it could get with pop music blasting from the cars stuck in the afterschool traffic and the game of honking that was going on distantly from the parking lot (that Dee was pretty sure Kyle was a part of).

“You can’t,” The teacher repeated, but he hadn’t sounded angry or offended. It had taken a moment for Dee to place the tone: somewhere between confused and curious. “I’m afraid I do not understand. As your teacher, I have assessed your ability and professed that you are certainly capable of keeping up in my honors class, and Vice Principal Joan has already confirmed that your school schedule can be amended around the new class with very little impact on your current learning courses. Additionally, the honors club for science has very few requirements: no more than three unexcused absences-- which you have none of--, at least an eighty-five average in the class-- which you now have a ninety seven--, and--”

“--and a grade point average of 3.0.” Dee had finished for him.

Because it wasn’t like at one point Dee hadn’t been looking into honors clubs. He knew collages looked into club activities, and that most honor clubs had scholarships that came with admittance to said honor clubs. 

“Also, Kyle Phillips,” Dee had said lowly, “is president. He gets the power to veto any applications he doesn’t like.”

It had gone without saying that Kyle and him weren’t on the best of terms. The black eye incident hadn’t even blown over yet and it had been a whole week. When Kyle had found out that Dee hadn’t really been punished for punching him, he had whined to his mom, who in turn showed up at the school and demanded that Dee be expelled.

VP Joan had refused on some grounds or other, and it ended with her threatening to sue the entire school system. VP Joan had calmly told her that she was welcome to take them to court, just let them know the date. She had stormed out of the school.

And so far it looked like she wasn’t really going to push it, but VP Joan had pulled Dee into their office and asked him to lay low for a little bit. 

Dee had dragged a hand through his unruly hair, “I guess it doesn’t help that Mrs. Hydrus doesn’t like me much either.” 

It had gone without saying, again, that it wasn’t just Mrs. Hydrus. All the teachers didn’t like Dee much. The “why” was still something Dee was trying to figure out.

He had offered Dr. Ackroyd a parody of a smile. “Sorry that you wasted your time.” 

And that should have been the end of it. That was usually the end of it. One of Dee’s apologies, a short tense silence, a backhanded comment that always, always, felt like a slap in the face and Dee left standing alone once again. When had Dee stopped expecting something better from people?

And why did Dr. Ackroyd keep upsetting these expectations of his?

The teacher had hummed to himself, staring at the distant elementary school. The brick building had a faded look to it: something that had stood for a thousand years and would stand for a thousand more, something that had seen hundreds of kids grow up and move on, something that should have been remembered fondly.

All Dee remembered was the fact his scars matched the pattern of the brick by the southern entrance from the number of times his cheek was grounded into it, and the way a deflated kickball felt slamming into his face repeatedly. He remembered the look on the nurses face when she told him to stop crying over the blood on his face, the annoyed expression from one teacher or other when he came in late covered in bandages. He remembered the librarian who always brought up the car accident when he saw her, always saying what a shame it had been, always ripping the scab off the wound before it could heal over and ten year old Dee trying not to scream at her for it.

“Mr. Ekans,” Dr. Ackroyd had said suddenly. “I have never once wasted my time on anything. I do not plan to start now.” He had picked at the packet of papers in his hand before hands before handing over it to Dee. Dee had taken it without really knowing what was happening.

“What?”

“I’m going to get you into the Science Honor Society Club.” The teacher had told him as if it were really just that easy.

Who knows. Maybe he really thought it was.

“I’m going to do all I can, Mr. Ekans, so I expect you to do as much as well. Bring your grades up.”

“What?!” Dee had stopped in his walk, blinked, and then repeated, “What?!”

“Surely you heard me the first time--”

“I did!” Dee had said hotly, “What do you think I’ve been trying to do this whole time! Bringing my grades up is not-- it’s not that--” He had spit the word between his teeth, “--easy!”

And Dr. Ackroyd had raised an eyebrow at him, in that way of his, “I know you can do it.”

Dee squeezed the test packet in his hand leaning forward on the old playground structure again. There it was. That voice, that absolute conviction in the teacher’s tone. At the moment it had filled Dee with a horrible fiery anger that send him storming away from the teacher and leaving him behind on that sidewalk. 

He had picked up his brother. He had gotten home and did the dishes and made dinner and done everything that wasn’t open his backpack and look at his homework. Then when he had finally caved and pulled the four pages worth of good marks from his bag, he had immediately thrown that stupid test in the trash, taken it back out, flipped through it, ripped several of the pages, crumpled them into a ball, thrown it out again--

And at half past the Little Dipper, Dee was in his backyard on a playset that should have succumbed to the natural selection a decade ago, with the test in his hand and his ears ringing from a teacher who had such absolute faith in Dee’s ability he had managed to make Dee doubt the very law of his life.

(Like Newton’s law of Gravitation, or Murphy’s law of Perversity: Dee’s law of Loneliness.)

((It has a ring to it, didn’t it?)

Dee had been alone for all of his life, alone in his corner of the boxing ring there to be beaten again and again as others used him as a stepping stone to something greater. There had never been anyone cheering for him in the stands, any coach hollering advice at him, any water boy reminding him to drink in between rounds of the fight. It had been him and him alone.

All at once Dee becomes aware of the noise behind him, the dramatic shift in the balance of the playset he had been sitting on that causes the rusted metal screws to whine and the floor to shake. Dee yanks his feet up onto the platform and hugs the metal bar he had been leaning on and tries to remind himself that a four foot fall was not going to kill him.

Then the shaking stops and Dee chances a look behind him to see exactly what idiot chose to come outside and play on the goddamn kids play castle that Dee had already claimed brooding rights on for the night--

“Thomas?”

The eleven-year-old totters on the platform, less than a foot away, on his hands and knees and in socks that have several chucks of the playground mulch stuck to them. The kid looks at him with those wide eyes, a sheepish smile, and he unapologetically shifts so he’s sitting across from Dee. 

“Hi, Dee!”

“What are you doing out here?” Dee asks, “Do you know what time it is? What about mom--”

Thomas picks a piece of mulch off his socks, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Dee had known Thomas since he was eight and Thomas was just a year old. He knows all the kids ticks, the way he picks at his fingers when he’s nervous and lying, and how he hates the cowlick in the back of his hair and how he hates when Dee leaves him alone with their mother, but never says anything because he feels guilty. 

He knows that when Thomas says he can’t sleep its a lie, and he still can’t bring himself to be even a little upset.

“Go back inside, Tom,” Dee tells him.

“Why aren’t you coming in?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Go to sleep.”

“Fine!”

And because Thomas has known Dee since he was one and Dee was eight, he leans forward until his head hits Dee’s shoulder.

There’s a pause between the two of them, where Dee goes as still as he can, feeling the pressure of his little brother’s head right there on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the absolute trust, feeling the frustration fade right out of his bones. 

“What…” Dee says, impossibly soft, “are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” Thomas answers equally soft.

The test papers in his hand crumple again, when he squeezes his fingers into his fist to wake himself from the dream he’s been living for the past week since Dr. Logan Ackroyd walked into his life. The reality doesn’t shatter around him; its distressing, worrying, and stupid, because Dee doesn’t think he’s known what to do in this upside down world.

If he accepts it, he’s going to lose it. If he fights it, it will destroy him. In the boxing ring of his life, Dee’s alone, lonely, abandoned and losing. The past week has just been setting him up to knock him back out of the fight and is it wrong for Dee just want to want the final blow to land, already?

“Whats that?” Thomas says.

And because Dee doesn’t lie to his brother, he flattens the front page out and spreads it for the moon to read. “My test.”

“Did you do good?”

“I did.”

“Then why are you sad?”

Dee doesn’t lie to his brother.

He’s not like his mom when she says “it won’t happen again” or like Thomas’s dad who says he’ll “be back in a little bit” and just to “tough it out” until he shows up like he isn’t gonna leave again in a week, a day, a few hours. He isn’t like Thomas’s friends who say they’re not scared of his brother, and he’s not like his own teachers who tell him that they “don’t give out grades, kids earn them”.

So instead he drives his chin into his chest and tries to speak around the lump in his throat. “I’m not sad.”

“Why are you angry then?”

“I’m NOT ANGRY!” Dee snarls, maybe a little more angry than he means, and he doesn’t regret it for a good one, two nanoseconds.

Three nanoseconds and Thomas flinches. “I’m sorry!” 

And then Dee recoils, because fuck, he raised his voice, and this was Thomas and He raised his voice at Thomas. 

The playset shifts dramatically underneath the two of them, wobbling like Thomas’s last loose tooth seconds before it fell out. Dee’s hand flings to the metal bar, and Thomas grabs the wall opposite of him. There’s a squeak of fear from them both, something shrill enough that Dee’s sure a light at the house across the street flicks on and off and a call to the police is probably being debated (and ultimately discarded, because no one called the cops for Dee’s broken arm three years ago or someone took a metal bat to their mailbox or the rock to the window, or, or, or.)

The playset wobbles, and they both cling to their respective parts, and they both stare at each other. Dee and Thomas.

At some point it stops shaking.

At some point, both their breathing evens out again.

At some point, Thomas says, “oh,” and they’re both quiet. 

Dee can hear the crickets sing, the too-early morning breeze dancing through the wind chimes on someone’s porch, the soft even breaths of his little brother. The test scatters on the ground a few feet below them, picked up by the little wind and tossed across the little yard. Somehow it makes the whole world feel confined to this little bubble where it was him and Thomas and this stupid space that Dee had forced between them.

“I’m sorry,” Dee says and its different from the times he’s said it before, all the times his teachers dragged it out of him and all the times the other kids had claimed one as a person victory. This time he means it, because it’s Thomas.

“It’s stupid,” Dee says because he doesn’t lie to his brother, “It stupid and I hate it.”

Thomas, sweet, wide-eyed, little Thomas, waits for him so say more.

“It’s stupid that I’ve made it this far and I can’t go any farther. I hate it. They said that everyone had a chance and then they drew the line right in front of me, like “oh not you”. I hate that everyone has always ignored who I am and what I can do, what I’ve done-- and Thomas? It sucks. I’m so tired of it. I’ve tried so… so very hard to do the right thing every single time. They tell me to apologize, and I do. They tell me to try harder and I do. They tell me that I’m not going anywhere--”

Dee savors a breath, and forces it out just as quickly, possibly a little hysterically, “I don’t wanna be here for the rest of my life, Thomas. I can’t be here forever. It will kill me.”

Thomas at eleven years old is too wise for his age. Because he doesn’t tell Dee that he’s not going to die, he doesn’t tell Dee that its going to be alright, he doesn’t say anything at all.

Dee feverishly wipes at his eyes, because heaven forbid the stars see him cry. 

(They’ve seen him do that enough already.)

“Dr. Ackroyd made it seem so easy,” He says barely more than a whisper in the silence of the night. “I’m really scared it might be.”

The metal feels warm to his touch, burning hot and he clings to it like a lifeline that will light his entire body on fire and turn the rest of his skin to match his face and shoulder and arm and, and, and.

“I’m really scared that it’s gonna be that easy after all, and that I’m going to make it out of here and that I’m going to get to college and that it will be the same exact thing all over again.”

“It won’t.” Thomas says, loud enough that Dee has no choice but too focus back in on him. The moonlight is playing with his pale skin and making his eyes shine. Or maybe those are tears. Is he crying? Or is Dee?

Thomas, wise beyond his years, too wise for his eleven years. Thomas says it won’t be like this out there. Thomas says he’s going to have a chance. Thomas agrees with Dr. Ackroyd.

“It won’t be like that, Dee, I promise.” Thomas says. “You won’t let it be.”

Unwavering faith.

“I know you can do it.” 

He brings a hand to his face again rubbing those tricky, telling tears off his face. He sniffs, his ears prick, and his throat stings just a bit. How ridiculous is it, crying at half past too-late, and with his little brother watching him. He thinks of how Dr. Ackroyd must be somewhere probably asleep because that’s what normal fucking people were supposed to be doing--

And stupidly Dee thinks of that boxing ring of his life and thinks of Thomas standing in his corner smiling at him like he is right now, watching him take hit after hit and watching him get back up each time. And he thinks of that Science Teacher watching him with those calculating eyes, pen in hand and analyzing his opponent’s every move and crafting the plan of retaliation---

Just asking Dee to make it to the next round, to the break where he can get to the moment where he remembers why he’s fighting in the first place.

Thomas lets go of the wall, and carefully leans forward again. The playset squeaks slightly. Thomas stops just an inch away from Dee. When he calms down he reaches the last bit forward and hugs him. Dee can feel him shaking, can feel them both shaking.

And then the playset comes toppling down.

They both let loose twin yells of panic-- Dee blindly grabs to his side and pulls Thomas forward, covering him with his arms. The metal screeches, something wooden cracks and Dee feels absolutely, terrifyingly weightless for a full second. 

They hit the ground heavily: Dee, landing on the platform base at an odd angle and Thomas landing on him at an odder angle. Dee loses his grip on his brother he rolls to the side. The air, what little bit of it was left ejected from Dee’s chest, and several part of his back and his arms and his legs are left whimpering with promised bruises.

And they’re left lying there, trying to catch their breaths in the wooden and metal wreckage, staring up at the stars.

And they’re left there, alive even after everything around them had come down around them.

“You okay?” Dee asks the second he’s sure he’s not dead.

“Yeah,” Thomas says equally out of breath. Dee watches him raise his head, slightly, a stupid shiny grin on his face and flushed cheek in the moonlight, “You?”

It’s not that easy, bringing his grades up. It’s not like flicking a switch, or knocking over a domino, or starting a car engine, or, or or. But he’s got a couple people (Dr. Ackroyd, Thomas)  in his corner, and something that he wants (Science Honor Society).

And the stars twinkle overhead the same way they’ve always done

“It’s so... fucking late.” Dee chokes out a sopping wet laugh. It tastes like salt and despair and something completely awful that he absolutely hates: hope. 

Dante Ethan Ekans has never thought of himself as dumb. 

He’s not.

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Potential (9/11)

Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Ten x Rose University AU

This chapter: ~5800 words, teen

Notes: This was written for the lovely @thegreenfairy13 as part of the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange. Also tagging @doctorroseprompts.

There’e going to be one more chapter and an epilogue after this one :)

AO3 | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | epilogue

Rose woke up in the middle of the night to something solid landing on her chest. Heart hammering, she jolted upright and blinked wildly, batting at the thing on top of her. Her fingers met with sleek fur as an annoyed mrrrp sounded from her stomach and two luminous eyes glared at her accusingly.

“Jesus,” Rose sighed. “You scared me, Pip.”

Pippin crawled back onto her chest and began the process of finding a comfortable spot. More than once, his arse was shoved into her face and she leaned away from it. He eventually plopped down and began purring contentedly, the vibrations of his body making Rose drowsy.

Until she remembered where she was, and that she’d invited herself to sleep over at James’s house without his permission.

Her gaze shot to the couch, but it was empty. Rose plopped her head back against the recliner. Well, at least he hadn’t woken her up to toss her out of his house. Though he was far too polite to do that anyway.

Rose sighed, but settled back into her chair. She was tired and it was still dark out. She might as well try to get a bit more sleep before having to see James and give him an awkward apology.

She reached up to rub Pippin’s soft little head, then pulled her blanket closer around her shoulders. No. Not blanket. Blankets. Plural.

Glancing down, Rose realized that she had somehow become covered by the blanket James had been sleeping under mere hours earlier. Something twisted inside of her at the thought that James had covered her with a blanket.

She inhaled deeply and hummed when she realized her new blanket smelled like him. She tucked her hands under her chin, bringing the blanket with them, and she fell back to sleep surrounded by James’s comforting scent.

When she awoke again, the sky outside was a light gray color. While the recliner wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, Rose felt well enough rested that the day wouldn’t be a sleepy struggle.

She froze when she realized she’d awoken because she’d heard footsteps. She closed her eyes and stilled, pretending to sleep. Moments later, James paused at the entrance to the living room. Slowly, she cracked open one eyelid. Through her lashes, she saw him standing a few feet away, just looking at her.

A thrill of… something shot through her. She was a little self-conscious, but at the same time, she’d watched James sleep the previous night, so turnabout was fair play. (Never mind the fact that he didn’t know she’d been watching him. Then again, James didn’t know that she knew he was watching her now either.)

He began to move closer, and she shut her eye. Her body was far too tense to pass as sleeping, but she hoped James didn’t notice. She was hyper-aware of him so that when he rested his hand on her arm, she wasn’t entirely surprised.

“Rose.” His voice was soft and gruff from sleep. His hand rubbed up and down from her shoulder to her elbow. Even though their skin was separated by two blankets and her sweatshirt, goosebumps still prickled across her body. “Rose. Wake up. Ro-oooose.”

Her heart clenched at the way he crooned her name, his lilting voice turning it into two syllables. A pang of longing went through her as she wished she could wake up every morning like this. Well, perhaps not exactly like this—she’d prefer a bed to a recliner—but she wanted to wake up with him.

She made a show of slowly beginning to stir, and she was pleased when he kept rubbing her arm. She never wanted him to stop.

When she cracked open her eyes, all coherent thought left her mind. His face was inches away; her eyes skated across the freckles that speckled his cheeks and nose. Then they darted down his lips, which were pulled in a lovely little smile that made her tingle all over.

She smiled sleepily. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

But soon embarrassment cleared her head and warmed her ears and cheeks. “Sorry for sort of inviting myself to spend the night. But you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, and I didn’t want you to wake up alone, so I just sort of…” She broke off with a shrug.

“I don’t mind. I…” His cheeks pinkened. “I’m glad you stayed.”

They looked at each other shyly for a minute before James stood up.

“We should get moving. Want breakfast first, or would you prefer me to take you back to your flat right away?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I can call for an Uber.”

James shook his head. “Please. I insist. After all you did for me yesterday… Please?”

Rose nodded, then said, “Breakfast would be great.” She rooted around on the floor where she’d set her phone last night. “What time is it?”

“Seven,” he answered, right as she hit the home button and saw 06:58 flash on the screen. “You’ve still got some time until you need to be at the school for your Shakespeare class.”

Silly though it was, Rose was pleased that James remembered when she had classes. And that he was thoughtful enough to wake her with plenty of time to spare so she could go back to her flat for a shower and a change of clothes first. She hadn’t relished the idea of spending the day in the same clothes as yesterday.

“Toast and eggs all right?” James asked as Rose lowered the footrest of the recliner.

“Yep.”

She followed him into the kitchen, where Pippin and Merry were crunching over their bowls of food. James moved around the space, gathering a frying pan, eggs, and butter.

“I’ll mind the toast,” Rose offered when he grabbed a loaf of bread from the pantry.

Together, they worked to make a nice but simple breakfast. Rose slathered butter and raspberry jam over their toast while James expertly fried and flipped the eggs, not breaking the yolks as Rose often accidentally did.

The conversation was sparse as they ate, though it was by no means uncomfortable. On the contrary, Rose was perfectly at ease as she sopped up the remnants of the runny egg yolk with the last bit of her toast, not caring that her fingers got messy.

James had left the crusts on his plate and was cradling his nearly-empty mug of coffee in his long fingers.

“I’ll cut the crusts off for you next time like my cousin does for her five-year-old,” Rose teased.

James stuck his tongue out at her, but his cheeks had turned pink. He didn’t look embarrassed though—in fact, he was smiling faintly—and Rose shrugged it off.

“When you’ve finished your tea, we can leave,” he said, gulping down the last of his coffee.

He began to clear up their dishes while Rose drank her tea as quickly as possible without scalding her mouth. Then he walked her to his car, his hand on her lower back, and drove her home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” James promised, idling outside of her building. “Thank you so much, Rose. I—” He hesitated, his mouth working silently for a moment, before he eventually said, “I’m incredibly lucky to have you as my friend.”

Rose wished he was out of his car so she could give him a hug. “I’m lucky to have you as my friend, too. If you’re ever having a bad day and want to talk or just hang out, let me know. I’ll always be here for you, James.”

His responding grin was dazzling, making her breath catch. With a cheerful wave and a two-fingered half-salute, James pulled away from her building and drove off.

oOoOo

After that, something shifted almost imperceptibly between herself and James. Rose couldn’t put her finger on what had changed; all she knew is that things seemed more intimate between them.

They used the impending approach of the third exam and finals week as an excuse to study more often, but their study sessions frequently found them talking about non-chemistry-related things.

They shared pieces of their pasts and talked about their futures. Rose’s heart raced with delight and anxiety when they both talked about the following semester and the rest of their time at the university as though it was set in stone that she would be around to see it. And as though they planned to still spend time together.

She appreciated his confidence, and used it to attempt to kindle her own fledgling optimism. Rose was doing superbly on all of her assignments and lab work; any time she showed James a new score that was near-perfect, he beamed at her as though she was holding a winning lottery ticket and scooped her in for a congratulatory hug.

It was hard to not feel hopeful, especially when the Excel spreadsheet of her chemistry grades kept changing, projecting that she needed a lower and lower score on her final exam to get a passing grade in the class.

“You are doing so well with this unit, Rose,” James praised on their last study session before the Thanksgiving break. “You’re amazing! Look at this!” He took her quiz from her and waved it in front of her nose, as though she hadn’t been staring at the circled 95% at the top. “Amazing!”

“Finally some of this seems to be making sense,” Rose said, still grinning with pride. They were in the final few chapters of the class, learning about molecular geometries and shapes and how things were bonded together, something she’d been worried about until she realized her artistic background would help her immensely with visualizing three-dimensional orientations of molecules.

“This is more than making sense. This is understanding. You’re getting it, Rose. You’re truly understanding what’s going on.” He then pulled a sour expression and whined, “You’re rendering me obsolete!”

Rose rolled her eyes and nudged her elbow into his ribs. “Oh shut up. I’m still going to need your amazing brain to help me get that 62% I need on the final. Besides, I’ve grown quite fond of you; you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

James blushed, but smiled.

“Right, so I think that’s enough studying for today,” Rose said. “It’s a holiday, which means no thinking at all for the next few days.”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly what’s supposed to happen during break,” James argued.

“Is too. What time should I get to yours on Thursday?”

James pressed the tip of his tongue to the backs of his teeth as he gazed at a point above and beyond her shoulder. “Hmm… It’s gonna be more of a late lunch than an actual dinner. So probably around two or three?”

“D’you want help cooking?” Rose asked, remembering past Christmases where her mother and various relatives all worked nearly-nonstop in the kitchen before the meal. “I can get there earlier. I don’t mind. I’d be eager to see the whole process of Thanksgiving.”

“Really, it’s just like Christmas,” James said. “Turkey goes in first, then the sides are made at different times.”

Rose tried not to let her disappointment show as she forced a nod. James’s eyes went a bit wide.

“But it’d be really nice to have some help,” he said quickly. “I’d love for you to come earlier. It’d be nice to have an extra set of hands.”

“If you don’t want me there…”

“I do,” he said firmly. “Come by in the morning. Say… nine or ten?”

“Sounds good,” Rose said, and she gathered her school bags and headed to her flat.

The university had closed for the holiday beginning on Wednesday, and Rose spent the day catching up on all of the chores and errands she had been putting off. She cleaned every inch of her home and began to browse the Internet for Christmas gift ideas.

As the evening approached, Rose sent James a text. “Need/want me to bring anything tomorrow?”

His reply came back immediately.

Just yourself.

Btw, want me to pick you up?

Bus routes are few and far between on holidays. And Uber rates are expensive.

Rose chewed on her lip, trying to decide. On one hand, he was right; using public transportation tomorrow would be a hassle. But on the other, she didn’t want to inconvenience James by having him drive all the way to her flat only to turn right around and go back home again.

Seriously, I don’t mind. What are best mates for, anyway?

“For living vicariously through your cat babies,” she teased.

Rose Tyler, you wound me.

“Oh, you know I love you.” Rose froze at the natural response, then quickly deleted the words before she could accidentally send the text. Instead, she typed, “You know I’m kidding. And yeah, if you really don’t mind, getting a lift from you would be great.”

Excellent. I shall see you tomorrow around nine-ish.

Also. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow. And as we’ve just established, Uber rates are insane.

So if you want to spend the night at mine, you’re more than welcome to.

If you want.

“Mate-date sleepover?” Rose hesitated, then added the winking emoji and sent the message.

Small dots popped up on her phone, but they disappeared seconds later. Then they reappeared. This happened half a dozen times, and Rose was about to reboot her phone, thinking it was glitching, when it buzzed in her hand.

Exactly! He’d added a grinning emoji.

She would have traded her soul to know what he’d been typing and deleting for a full minute.

“Sounds great. See you tomorrow!”

oOoOo

Preparing dinner with James was magical. They worked seamlessly around each other, checking on the turkey and basting it, boiling potatoes, cooking veggies, and occasionally stealing pieces of the various fruit pies to sample.

It was as though they were always meant to be doing this. Hosting holidays together.

James was in a tight pair of jeans and a snug t-shirt that showed off his lithe body. Rose stared openly at the flex and ripple of his muscles as he worked. His forearms. His pecs. His shoulders. His back.

Her body ached to touch him, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against him until there was not even the slightest sliver of space between them. She wanted to know how his body moved with hers. She wanted to know where her hands would settle as they kissed. She wanted to know where his would settle.

“I’m sure the potatoes aren’t that interesting,” James said, bumping his hip into hers. That made the heat in her belly flare sharply. “Thinking deep thoughts?”

Only about how much I want to snog you. And maybe shag you.

“I truly am as dull as you said. Boiling potatoes are the height of fascination,” she said dryly.

He giggled, a giddy sound from high in his throat. She loved that sound. She wanted to hear it every day, wanted to be the person who made him make that sound.

He stepped closer to her and stabbed a fork into the potatoes. The warmth from his body radiated into hers, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.

“Still needs some time,” he murmured, his mouth right beside her ear. His breath was hot and he was so, so close now.

And before she could respond, his lips landed on the side of her neck. She hummed low in her throat and tilted her head to the side, giving him more room. He took advantage of it and began pressing delicate kisses along the arch of her jaw. She lifted her hand and threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him in place. Not that he was going anywhere.

“James,” she breathed.

“Rose,” he replied. She felt him smirk against her, then his teeth scraped across her skin.

She shuddered in his arms, then turned. A cocky grin was on his lips, but it slipped when she lifted herself onto her toes and yanked him down for a kiss. A real, proper, full-on kiss. He sighed into her mouth and melted into her.

Rose wrapped her arms around his shoulders to hold him close. Finally, she thought. Oh, God, finally. His lips were soft and a little dry, and they moved perfectly with hers. They found a slow, lazy rhythm and kept it, unhurried.

His arms draped loosely around her waist, hugging her gently to him. One of her hands went to his jaw, his cheek, holding his face tenderly while her other hand fisted into his hair. She enjoyed the motions of his jaw as they kissed.

When she scraped her nails across his scalp, he let out a knee-weakening groan that made her core begin to throb.

With a noise that was a cross between a growl and a hiss, Rose walked him backwards a few steps until he collided against the wall. He smiled beneath her mouth, but let her pin him to the wall.

His hands dipped under the hem of her shirt so his fingers could map out the expanse of her back. She shuddered as his fingers caressed her skin, then settled at the base of her spine. His fingers clenched and released, mirroring the motion of his mouth against hers.

He was a fantastic kissing partner. His lips pulled and gave way, dominated and submitted. His breathing was ragged and he kept letting out tiny, needy noises that made her press herself closer. Their hips were flush, and they were rocking and grinding and writhing together, stoking the fire that was roaring through her veins.

The oven beeped at them, and James faded away from her, taking the solid length of his body away from her touch.

“No,” she whimpered, grasping for him.

He grinned at her, looking entirely put together and composed while she thought she might scream with frustration.

The oven continued blaring.

Only it wasn’t the oven.

Rose’s eyes snapped open. Her body was hot and tense, and an unbearable ache throbbed between her legs.

“Fuck,” she grumbled, then she fumbled for her phone to silence her alarm.

She flopped back down onto her bed and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. That dream had felt so real. Now, not only was she turned on and alone, but her chest twinged with sorrow and longing that she’d never actually kissed James. Or had him kiss her while holding her like she was the most important person in his world.

“Fuck,” she repeated. She swung her legs off the side of her bed and got up to take a long, cold shower.

James arrived a few minutes after nine. Rose carried her overnight bag down to his car, then flung it into the back seat and slid into the passenger’s seat.

When they got to his home, Rose chucked her bag into the spare bedroom that she was desperately trying not to call “hers”. Then they went to the kitchen to begin food preparations.

There wasn’t much to do at first, and Rose boosted herself onto the countertop to watch James season the turkey and pop it into the oven. She took the time to observe him. His jeans weren’t as tight as they’d been in her dream, but they still gave her a very generous view of his arse. He was wearing a jumper though, which, to Rose’s disappointment, hid the movement of his upper body from her. It was probably for the best.

“You all right?”

Rose snapped her gaze up from where she’d been rotating between ogling his bum and his exposed forearms. Her face heated, but she ignored it and instead forced a smile.

“Fine,” she said. “Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep all that well last night.”

“Feel free to make yourself a cuppa tea,” he said. “If that’ll help.”

Her smile turned genuine, and she hopped down from her perch to make tea for the both of them. It was nearly automatic, the way she dumped milk into the mugs then added honey and a lemon wedge to hers and several scoops of sugar to his. But when she turned, he was looking at her with a soft, unreadable expression.

“What?” she asked, self-conscious.

He shook his head faintly. “I… Nothing… It’s just… You remembered how I take my tea.”

Rose frowned. “Well, yeah.” Then she shot him a teasing smirk and said, “It’s milk and half a bag of sugar. Not that hard to remember.”

He giggled her favorite giggle, looking absolutely delighted. Her chest felt warm but slightly hollow, and it took everything in her to not slam him against the wall and snog the breath out of him.

“What time are your other guests going to be arriving?” Rose asked. “And how many people are coming?”

“Anywhere from noon to three,” James said, shrugging. “I gave very loose, vague timelines for today. It’s going to be a low key gathering. And at last count, there were gonna be eight other people, in addition to you and me.”

While they waited for James’s guests, they broke out a board game and passed the time playing Risk. They finished two rounds before the doorbell rang. Rose cleaned up the game pieces while James greeted his guest and let them inside.

“Rose, this is Jack. Jack, this is Rose.”

Rose glanced over and saw a handsome, dark-haired man grinning at her from the entry to the living room. He was quite fit, and Rose took a moment to rake her eyes up and down his toned, muscled body. She flushed when she realized he’d caught her looking and was now giving her a once-over.

“Hi,” he said with a wink and flirtatious smirk. He stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Jack Harkness.”

“Jack,” James said, frowning. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying hello,” he said innocently.

Rose bit her lip around a chuckle as she walked towards them and grasped Jack’s extended hand. His grip was warm and firm, and after he shook her hand, he brought it to his lips for a kiss.

James glared at Jack’s back, but he turned and stalked to the front door when the bell rang, heralding a new guest.

Over the next hour and a half, all of James’s guests arrived, pulling him in and out of the kitchen to greet them. Rose assured him she didn’t mind; after all, it wasn’t that hard to boil potatoes. Some of the guests entered the kitchen to offer their help (especially Jack), and Rose made idle conversation with them as she worked on the mashed potatoes.

“I feel bad, leaving you to do the cooking. You’re not even the official host,” James said when he realized she’d finished the potatoes and had the veggies heating up.

“I told you, it’s all right,” she said. “Besides, if I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have offered.”

James gave her a relieved smile and squeezed her forearm in thanks.

“Though I’m making you carve the turkey. I don’t feel like getting my hands that dirty.”

James stuck his tongue out at her, but conceded.

The ones who hadn’t ventured into the kitchen on their own, James brought to introduce to Rose. She worked hard on remembering everyone’s names and how James knew them, but the information faded fairly quickly.

The meal wasn’t as awkward as Rose had thought it would be. Despite only having met them a couple hours ago, she managed to make easy conversation with everyone.

Everyone but James, that is. She’d initially planned to sit beside him at the table for dinner, and had put her glass of wine next to his to informally reserve her seat. But when she’d disappeared to the kitchen to help James bring the platters of food out, a blonde woman had sat in her place. She remembered this woman’s name: Reinette. She was the French girl who had somehow landed herself in James’s intermediate French class.

Oh well, she thought to herself as she plucked her wine glass from the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said, frowning. “I didn’t realize someone was sitting here.”

“It’s all right,” Rose said brightly, moving to the opposite end of the table.

Minutes later, everyone was seated and passing around the dishes of food. The conversation was steady as everyone worked through the heaps of food on their plate. Jack had ended up sitting beside Rose, and they talked to each other quite a bit.

Rose couldn’t help but notice that Reinette and James were engaged in conversation for the entire meal. He was laughing and beaming at her, angling his body towards her to give her his full attention.

Something hard and uncomfortable dropped into the pit of her stomach as she watched Reinette cover his forearm with her hand, squeezing and rubbing his arm. And James was leaning closer to her touch, which made the feeling worse.

Rose pulled her gaze away from them and tried not to let her hurt show. How had she never seen James interacting with another friend until now? What she’d mistaken for flirting and attraction must have just been his overly-affectionate personality. All the times he’d grabbed her hand or let her take his were normal for him. Nothing special.

She utterly ignored James and his dinner companion for the rest of the meal, choosing instead to throw herself head-first into the conversation around her. Someone had turned the television on and had flipped it to a sports channel, where an American football game was playing.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Jack asked her, nudging his foot against hers.

“Not really,” she admitted. “Er… I know they have to take the ball from one end to the other. And they get different amounts of points depending how they did it. But that’s about it.”

Jack laughed good-naturedly at her, as did a few of the other people sitting around her, and he began explaining the basic rules to her.

Everybody took their plates to the kitchen after the meal was over and stacked their dishes in the sink, per James’s request.

“I’ll load the dishwasher later,” he’d said.

Stuffed and sleepy, Rose joined a few people on the floor of the living room to continue watching the football game. There were cheers and boos at seemingly every play, and Rose found herself joining in the longer she watched.

Meanwhile, James had settled onto the sofa with Reinette plopped beside him. To make room for another two people on the couch, they were pressed so tightly together that Reinette was nearly in James’s lap.

Rose continued to ignore them, just as she ignored the acidic taste in her mouth at the sight of them. Instead, she leaned against Jack and sipped her drink as she continued to watch the game.

Try as she might, Rose couldn’t entirely block out James’s conversation with Reinette. They talked about politics, both American and European, and the places they’d travelled to. Rose hadn’t realized how much of the world James had seen.

“My parents loved to travel,” James told Reinette wistfully. “We vacationed every summer in a different country. When I moved with my aunt to America, we would take vacations to various states.”

“Why did you move with your aunt?” Reinette asked, furrowing her delicate brow.

“Er… my parents passed away,” James said awkwardly.

“Oh!” Reinette clapped her hand to her mouth. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

She wrapped her arms around one of his, hugging it tightly to her breast before she leaned up to brush a kiss to his cheek.

That was when Rose stood up and stalked into the kitchen under the guise of getting more wine.

Her chest ached as she poured herself her third glass of the afternoon and downed half of it in one go.

Seeing James with Reinette made it so heartbreakingly obvious that she was way below his league. He and Reinette were able to talk about travel and politics and other sophisticated things much more eloquently than she ever could.

Somehow she’d managed to convince herself that James had romantic feelings for her when instead he was simply an affectionate person. She should have realized she wasn’t anything special to James, and she’d been stupid to think she was.

She’d gotten her hopes up that maybe he might be a little bit in love with her. Now her hopes were crashing down and shattering at her feet, and it hurt.

Working on autopilot, Rose set her newly-emptied glass of wine to the side and moved to the pile of dishes in the sink. Trying to convince herself she wasn’t avoiding James, she gave everything a cursory rinse then arranged them neatly into the dishwasher.

It didn’t matter; he found her five minutes later.

“Rose!” He sounded like he was smiling hugely, and she irrationally wanted to throw a spoon at him. “There you are! Thought I’d lost you.”

“Nope,” she said, trying to infuse emotion into her flat voice. “Just washing up. Figured I’d get a load started before the food was too caked on.”

He sidled up beside her and bumped his hip into hers.

“You’re making me feel like a shoddy host,” he teased. “First making all the sides, now doing the washing up.” Then he went over to the opposite side of the dishwasher to help her finish.

“You can go back to your guests,” Rose murmured, carefully arranging the utensils.

“No thanks. I need a break.” He paused, then lowered his voice and admitted, “I’ve only just escaped.”

Rose’s head snapped up to look at him. He was scrubbing his hand at the back of his neck with a sheepish grimace on his face.

“Escaped?”

He loosed a long breath then said carefully, “Reinette’s been… very friendly. She’s been hanging off my arm all day. I’ve barely been able to chat with my other friends. And I’ve tried to hint to her that I’m not interested, but…” He shrugged and turned to root under his sink for dishwasher detergent.

Rose’s heart lifted itself out of her stomach and back into her chest.

“Am I a rubbish host if I hide in here for the rest of the day?” James asked, tossing the detergent pod into the dishwasher.

“Hmmm…” Rose tapped her finger against her chin. “Probably.”

James rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You can sometimes be too friendly for your own good,” Rose said.

“How can I politely tell her I’m not interested?” he asked with a sigh. “I thought I’d been obvious.”

“As an observer, it didn’t look like you were uninterested,” Rose supplied.

James’s jaw slackened and a look of horror crossed his face. His cheeks went red as he began to stammer, “Wait… but… she… I… Rose!”

“I’m just sayin’,” Rose laughed.

“Really?” he squeaked. “‘Cos I’m not. Interested, that is. I’m not at all interested in her. Not in the least!”

Rose giggled at him, amused by how flustered he was. But she couldn’t help the happiness and relief bubbling up inside of her.

James pouted. “Well what about you and Jack?” he asked petulantly.

Rose stopped laughing. “What d’you mean, me and Jack?”

“You two have been very… cozy today.”

“He’s a nice guy,” she countered, watching James carefully.

“Yeah, he is. I just… I feel like I should warn you. He goes through women very quickly. Men, too, as it were. Just so you know.”

James had his hands stuffed into his pockets, but Rose could see they were clenched into tight fists.

“Thanks for the warning, but I’m not interested,” she said.

James brightened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

He beamed at her, and she couldn’t help but return it.

“In that case… I, er, was wondering… Do you… Would you like… I’d like to… Do you wanna maybe…”

“What are you two kids getting up to in here?”

James jumped a little, and he turned to glare at Jack. Rose didn’t know whether to be upset at Jack or to kiss him. While he’d been stuttering his way through fragmented sentences, judging by what they’d been discussing, Rose was fairly certain James was trying to ask her out on a date. If he was, she was thrilled, and hated Jack for interrupting. But a small part of her also wanted to flee from the room. There were still three and a half weeks left before she would know for certain whether or not she could stay at the university. With her luck, she’d start dating James only to find out she’d lost her scholarship.

“Oh, nothing. Cleaning up, that’s all,” Rose said brightly, hating the way James’s face fell then shuttered off.

“I saw your pile of board games, and a group of us wants to play something. There’s too many of us to play individually, so we’re pairing up. Do you two want in?”

“I do,” Rose answered.

“Brilliant! I still need a partner,” Jack said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I think you’d work well with Reinette,” James suggested. “If she still needs a partner.”

“I think she was hoping to pair up with you,” Jack said pointedly.

“No doubt,” James grumbled. But he stepped up beside Rose and rested his hand on her lower back. She nearly rolled her eyes at the possessive motion, but a larger part of her was thrilled. “I’ll be Rose’s partner.”

Jack eyed them both carefully, then winked and left the kitchen. Rose made to follow, but James gently gripped her forearm, stopping her.

“Rose. Before… I wanted to ask…”

“Stop,” she interrupted, her heart galloping. “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, ask me after finals.”

James’s brow furrowed, confusion and hurt warring on his face.

“Please. Just wait and ask me after finals.” Rose tried to explain with her eyes, because she felt too pathetic to tell him how worried she still was about not being able to stay in school. And she didn’t know how to confess that she was already head-over-heels in love with him, and that it would kill her if she got a taste of a relationship with him only to have it yanked away.

To her eternal relief, a kernel of understanding dawned in his eyes, and his gaze softened. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“After finals,” he agreed quietly.

Then he lifted her hands to his lips, planted a sweet, tender kiss to her knuckles, and guided her to the living room.

[bngjwn]

hi yes i’m very late i know i’m Sorry  bUt pls enjoy this gif of yoongi being the cute baby he is because it’s gonna be rare for you to see jiwan like that hfjdgfdjk ANYWAYS hello !! my name is liv ( she/her ), i’m 19 and in the gmt-4 timezone, and i bring to you my son BANG JIWAN. now, he’s not the most sociable or outgoing guy out there, but he has his charms i promise. he’s been through a lot in his life and nowadays he’s just ,, dealing with things as they come his way lmao you can find his unfinished stats HERE and i don’t have a plots page just yet but i’m literally open to anything !! i might have one up in the future, though jkdjdshjs under the cut i’ve gathered some information about jiwan, so if you wanna plot with us just like this post and i’ll come bother you uwu let’s get to it !!

tw: mentions of alcohol & drugs, death, jail-related themes

┅ ☆ ★ ✮ ∟ ‖ min yoongi. 26. cismale. he/him. ‖— extinguishing cigarettes on snow , black tattoos on pale skin , feeling the wind against your face. 」did you hear that BANG JIWAN is planning on attending the next race ?! i won’t lie, i’m pretty excited to see their BLACK ASTON MARTIN VANTAGE in person. i know people say they’re really  SELF-RELIANT , DISCERNING & PHLEGMATIC , but don’t you think they come off way too UNFORESEEABLE  ,  BLASÉ & CONTUMACIOUS ? i hear they’re always blasting RENEGADE by STYX ? oh well, they’re a member of the HELLCATS so i guess i shouldn’t complain.

╭ ⌑ past.

jiwan was born in gwangju, south korea, and his childhood was what most people would consider nice. he had nice things -- nice clothes, a nice house, nice friends, nice opportunities... it was really a shame his parents weren’t just as nice

he was often put under pressure by his parents ( two successful business people ), who never really understood why their son was so closed off like that. he got very good grades at school, but he was always that shy kid no one talks to. he was that child the teacher always forgets is in their class, and that was okay. he liked being by himself; didn’t feel like he needed anyone else, even at such a young age

jiwan played by himself, studied by himself, went out by himself. he liked to sit alone in the park and just watch as people walked by. sometimes people thought he was weird, but he just enjoyed his own presence; always had, and that was a fact. maybe he indeed was a little weird, though

he tended to never initiate conversations with anyone, but would follow along with no issue if someone came up to talk to him. that’s the only reason why he was able to have a small circle of friends all through elementary and high school

things changed in high school, in which jiwan got involved with the wrong people and started doing things his parents definitely wouldn’t be proud of if they knew about it; they were only happy their son was finally socializing and being a normal teenager

well... not so normal, since his outings with his friends involved a lot of alcohol, drugs, getting his first tattoos ( in secret ) and irresponsible car rides on the outskirts of town. around that time, jiwan fell in love with the way the wind hit his face when he went shotgun in one of his friends’ cars or just drove himself, smiling brightly for what felt like the first time in his life, loving the adrenalin it gave him

in the middle of his third year in high school, his parents died in a plane crash while flying to an important business meeting in another country. jiwan suddenly found himself as an 19-year-old orphan with nothing on him besides his excessive quietness. he cried at their death and felt horrible for all of the bad things he’d ever thought about them ( and thankfully not said ), but he also felt angry in a way he’d never felt before

frustrated with the loss of his parents, he went out with his friends and drank his ass off, accidentally starting a club fight that got him into a lot of trouble

he actually ended up being dragged to the police station after that, being sentenced to a year in jail, completely unable to bail himself out because of his heritage money being frozen by the bank

needless to say, jiwan wasn’t happy at all to be going to jail right after his parents died. he had so much resentment inside himself, so much hatred but at the same time he went back to being the quiet guy he was before he got involved with the wrong crowd

somehow, no one messed with him during his time in jail. he was still only 19, but the way he portrayed himself to the outside public was something that made people feel intimidated, somehow. none of his “friends” from before the accident happened came to visit him while he was locked up, which he pretended not to care about, but deep inside, he felt a bit hurt

being in jail taught him that he really couldn’t trust anyone besides himself. if he was an individualist before, it got even stronger after he got out of jail a year later

it was tough to get his heritage money back, going through a lot of paperwork with the bank, but when he finally did get it back, he used most of it to buy himself a nice car and then ride off towards busan -- he had visited the city once before and felt immediately drawn to it

in busan, it wasn’t too tough to settle down, since he still had a bunch of money left, so he quickly found a small flat for himself, which contrasted a whole fucking lot with his fancy ass car, but, you know... priorities

he went back to being the quiet one among everyone else, getting random jobs here and there, riding on his car by himself and experiencing the happiness it gave him without anyone by his side -- it was literally the only thing keeping him alive. it was nice, he never really minded being by himself, and it was a big surprise when a group of guys approached him one day, telling him they had seen him riding just out of town and wanting to know if he’d like to join them to form a group of people who also raced. it was very out of the blue, but jiwan accepted. he had nothing to lose anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

╭ ⌑ present.

jiwan is part of the original members of the hellcats, way back when the gang was just starting off, so he’s often seen as some kind of inspiration for people who have joined later on ( even if he himself doesn’t quite understand that )

he’s a full time racer, not having any other side jobs because it’s just too much effort and he really can’t be bothered to overwork himself for some cash he very obviously doesn’t need -- everything he earns goes straight to upgrading his car or just maintaining it in general

he’s a very good racer, has lost a few races in his lifetime, but never got super crazy over them like some people in his gang get

jiwan’s still living in the same fucked up flat he got when he moved to busan; he doesn’t think it’s necessary to buy something bigger

╭ ⌑ personality & extras.

he won’t tell anyone this, but his car’s name is actually kiki

jiwan doesn’t often talk about his feelings, since he tends to keep everything to himself, but if he trusts someone enough ( which is hard ), he’ll definitely have some deep conversations with them about anything and everything

he doesn’t have anything against anyone. he’s a peaceful guy. yes, he has some resentful feelings inside himself, but never lets it show. most of the time, he will appear calm and collected and like he doesn’t give a shit about what’s happening around him

he’s had some pretty bad things happen in his life and by now he doesn’t get impressed by too little; he’s become indifferent to most things

in the love department...... he doesn’t do very well. he mostly sleeps around and has casual flings or just friends with benefits and no strings attached at all, but when he falls in love with someone, he falls hard, and becomes someone else entirely, always trying to protect them and make them feel loved. it’s really a contrast to the person he usually appears to be

tbh, he’s only ever been in one serious relationship, which ended pretty badly, and even if he didn’t hold a grudge against his ex ( doyeon ), the fact that he still does to this day just sends him and he can’t help but bite back

that being said, he doesn’t initiate any fights, but if instigated, he will retaliate

btw he’s not very competitive so he’s really only in it for the racing part lmao it pisses him off sometimes when other people in his gang get really fucking mad when they lose a race. like. calm down greg it's soccer

doesn’t care about the rivalry between the kings and the hellcats. if you’re nice to him, he’ll be ( moderately ) nice to you. if you try to shoot him on the foot, he’ll do just the same to you

he actually has a black ragamuffin called bomi. in his most stressful days, he likes to go home and allow her to claim his lap as his favorite spot to sleep on. the image of him with his cat is probably the softest thing anyone’s ever going to see, so he tries to not show people that lmao

however DEEP deep inside ( really deep ) he’s just..... very soft. cares a lot about his friends and will do anything in his power to keep them safe and content. you just gotta earn his trust first

[serpentsangel]

Can you write boyfriend!reggie imagine where the reader tells reggie to say “Ily” back but it’s hard for him bcs his reputation and they end up breaking up and she ends up dating sweet pea GOSSIP GIRL VIBES WHEN CHUCK DIDNT TELL BALIR ILY BACK :’)

“I Love You”: Reggie x Reader Imagine

I decided to split this into two parts!!!! I hope you enjoy this first one.

Words: 1,742

Warnings: Light swearing and heartbreak 3

You and Reggie have been dating for a fair bit, or at least it seems that way, Reggie was never able to hold a stable relationship due to his flirtatious nature but somehow, just somehow you managed to entice the jock enough to get him to be faithful. And yes, you’ve had your doubts but Reggie couldn’t be sweeter than he already is. Which is why it makes your stomach turn when you realized he has yet to repeat the words back to you. “You’re over-thinking it, (Y/N). Maybe it’s the anniversary blues.” Betty says, as you wrap yourself in endless blankets, eyes stained red with the drying tears from the night before. “Plus, as much as you want to believe you’ve changed Reggie, there’s always going to be a part of him that’s too proud of his masculinity to say soft words like that. Just give it time.”

And time you gave. Your 3rd year anniversary with Reggie is approaching, along with graduation. Maybe it’s the sadness in your heart consuming you, the sadness that this may or may not be the last time you see him depending on where either of you go to college. Reggie, already a prospect for a sports scholarship all over the country and even in Canada but you? Your parents got you to work at their production company for a year or two before going to college. A destiny you were bound to have before you could make your own choices. 

Taking a deep breath, you approach Reggie at his locker and getting up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He jumps back slightly, a little surprised at you being there. “Woah, you scared me.” A small smile plays at his lips as he gives you a quick peck. Taking a look around, as if to check if any of his teammates saw him give public affection to his girlfriend.

“Is everything alright?” You ask and Reggie, as he has been doing lately, brushes it off and shuts his locker. “Homecoming is coming up. Are you ready for the game?” You change the subject, hoping that trying to take an interest into his hobbies would somehow allow him to pay more attention to you. It’s the time of the year where all the seniors are packed with applications and final projects that none of their minds are set straight. Especially with homecoming, no one could focus on anything else.

“Yeah. I’ve heard that a lot of scouts for schools could be there and yeah.” Reggie sighs as he squeezes your hand, smiling down at you with begging eyes.

Your hand drops to your sides as you sigh. Holding onto your books in your arms, Reggie’s eyes fall. “You have to cancel another date night? I understand. I’ll just see you, whenever I guess.” You walk past him as your shoulders bump. Another date night cancelled because Reggie needs as much practice as possible for the big game and though you understand, this is important for him, but he’s been blowing you off for sometime now and you can’t think of the last time you two properly spent time together and you wonder if he even remembers that your anniversary is coming up. Most likely not.

Another night of you being cooped by the bar at Pop’s, stirring your milkshake absentmindedly as you eat fry by fry and stare into the distance. You don’t notice a tall figure, clad in all black with the exception of a flannel, slide into the spot next to yours. “(Y/N)?” Your ears perk as you look up and see Sweet Pea, one of the Southside High students that transferred over to Riverdale High when their school got shut down. “You’re here alone?”

“As I always am.” You raise your hand and ask for the food to be packed for home. “What brings you here? No Serpent duties tonight?” You question. You were one of the few students that opened their arms to the Southside students when they first arrived. Reggie? Not so much. Funny enough, it was how the two of you met, when he first cascaded down the staircase and you sassed him to the point Veronica had to hold you back before you punched the guy.

“Nah, I’m too busy right now applying for college. Especially because I’m trying to get into medical school and trying to keep my grades as high as they are until grad.” Sweet Pea looks around, usually whenever you’re here Reggie is at your side but today is different. “Where’s Reggie?”

“Flaked me. Again. He’s worried that the stress from school will ruin his game for homecoming and he needs to be at the top since scouts and whatnot are going to be there.” You pick up the food and slide a few bills on the counter to pay for your order. “I’ll see you around Pea.” You leave with one forced smile before heading home, only to sit in the darkness with your thoughts clouding your mind. You check your phone every few minutes to see if Reggie has replied to anything you’ve said, and as you expected, he hasn’t but it still hurt. Maybe you are over thinking it a little, just maybe. So you promise yourself you’ll try to be the supportive partner for as long as you can.

- HOMECOMING NIGHT –

It’s the night of the big game. Your heart racing as you cheer from the sidelines with the rest of the Vixens. The one night where all students can forget about all academics and just bask in the school spirit one last time. You’ve managed quite well to forget the pain you’ve felt from how distant Reggie has been and you could spot the scouts out easily and could tell Reggie was at the top of his game. He’s playing better than ever but, then you remember, it also happens to be your anniversary and you haven’t heard a single word from him. 

As the cheerleaders take a break, you sink back into your seat, fiddling with the pompoms. “Everything alright, (Y/N)?” Betty asks, taking a seat next to you as she notices you eyeing Reggie. “What happened this time?”

“It’s our anniversary. He’s forgotten. I mean, does he even know I exist anymore, Betty? He’s barely looking me in the eye, he barely talks to me anymore and when we do he dares not to show any kind of affection. I don’t think he even loves me anymore.”  You look up at Reggie, he spots you but looks away as quickly as he does.

“Has he, you know, said the words?” You shake your head. You truly felt like what you have is special and people would tell you so. Even Reggie has said it before, that he’s never felt so strongly for someone but thinking back at it now, it all just felt like lies to keep you by his side. Everything you ever knew was slowly crumbling but you weren’t about to let it defeat you. You were determined to get him to say the words he’s always choked up on saying.

And as expected, the Bulldogs won and you felt proud. You let the Bulldogs celebrate with each other first before Reggie makes his way towards you, rather slowly. Archie sprinted up to Veronica and engulfed her in a big hug whereas Reggie looked like he didn’t want to be there. He smiles softly at you, leaning in for a kiss but you turn your head, so instead of your lips, he kisses your cheek. “Babe, is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong, really Reggie? You’re just going to pretend that you haven’t ghosted me for the past three weeks and have forgotten what today is?” You feel your throat close up, but you suck it in, you have to be the strong one here. Don’t let him see how much he has hurt you.

“It’s Homecoming?” Reggie says, confused as to why you could be angry at this day. “Babe, we just won! All the scouts look happy and I’ve played the best I have in my entire Bulldogs career, why can’t you be happy for me?”

“It’s our Anniversary, Reggie. Our third year anniversary!” You shout. Archie and Veronica noticing and having to be pushed away by Betty to give you two space. “I knew that dating you, the big cocky jock captain was going to be dangerous and people warned me that I’d end up getting my heart broken but I couldn’t help the way I feel. We know that this is something special and I want us to last Reggie but I can’t help but feel that you don’t want the same. I love you, Reg. I do but I don’t think you reflect these feelings.”

Reggie sighs, taking a step closer and whispering to you. “I do, I just…”

“Then say it.” You demand. “Say that you love me, Reggie. Look me in the eye and say the words.” A small crack in your voice rings through, paining your heart just as little as it is hurting Reggie. In his mind, it races a million miles an hour and he lifts his head to look around, wanting to push those words out but the pride he feels for his reputation always blocked the way. “Unbelievable.” You scoff. “You’re so fucking worried that people will see you as a weak little bitch just because you say ‘I Love You’ to your girlfriend. I can’t deal with this anymore, Reggie. I can’t keep giving you the benefit of the doubt. I can’t keep sticking around this way if you wouldn’t do the same for me.” Your words catch his attention, worry clouding his eyes as he knows whats coming but he still couldn’t muster up the words to say anything. “It’s over, Reggie. I’m done. Hope your scholarship was worth it.”

You throw your pompoms to the ground as you turn to run away back to your car. Betty and Veronica starting to go after you but they couldn’t keep up. Sweet Pea, witnessing it all, gets up from his seat but he too couldn’t get an escape route out. Reggie stands there frozen, as he plays the image of you running away over and over again. There’s no turning back now. You were gone. And there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

[orthonas]

Blog 4: Introspection

So I’ve been thinking about myself lately, like who I am and why I am and stuff. I guess I did that before now but I never really wanted to write any of it down. In a way I think it’s probably important for everyone to think about this kind of stuff at least once in their life. Consider what they are, why they are the way they are, what are they going to be, and most importantly, are they happy with that?

I guess I’ll start with trying to think about what I am if I’m going to go through with everything I just listed. It’s hard to describe yourself, at least it’s always been hard for me to describe myself. I feel weird saying good things about myself and focus on the negatives a lot, but my life is made up of a lot of negatives I guess. I’m not trying to like get sympathy with that either, I feel like a lot of insecure people get accused of trying to guilt trip others into saying nice things to them or something along those lines but I like to think that there’s nothing malicious about it. Just people being insecure, you’re usually your own worst critic and all that.

I’d say appearance wise I’m not great, pretty far from what I want to be really. My body is weak and inflexible and super unhealthy. My shoulders are too broad and you can see my veins through the skin on my arms. My hair has the consistency of straw and is all stringy and gross looking most days. My face is nothing special. And on top of that I have a man’s body, I’m more effeminate than some guys which I’m lucky for but I have male genitals, no breasts, my face is male looking. It hurts to look in the mirror and see a guy and I hate it. Good things about my appearance would be my hair can look decent on good days, I’m more effeminate looking than a lot of guys which is something towards passing as a girl, and honestly I don’t know what else to say about myself. It feels a bit weird to start with appearance, it doesn’t seem like much of a self examination in the sense of who I am. But in a way my appearance reflects that, and it makes sense to start with the outer layer and work in.

So I guess next would be how I act, and honestly I don’t like the way I act. More and more I think about who I am and what I do and I don’t like it. On the days I don’t do anything and waste away I feel useless and worthless, not someone worth keeping around. And on the days I go out and do things I rarely do them well, always in half measures. Fearing any sort of hard work for some inconceivable reason. I guess I”m just lazy. And how I act around people, I’m usually too shy to talk to anyone unless they approach me or unless I have a good reason to talk to them. And even when I do talk to someone I think I come off as overbearing or obnoxious and pushy. I think it’s in part because I get really excited to talk to people, I feel starved for affection, to talk to people sometimes and I just pour everything out the first chance I get and that’s offputting. But I can also be seriously annoying or rude or just flat out mean sometimes too and I hate that part about myself. And sometimes I’m too distant, I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing or messing up something between me and a friend. And even more terrified of having already done so and that friend hates me. Like what if they just put up with me, they pretend to like me because they feel like they have an obligation to keep me around? Or even worse I’m just the spare friend, someone you talk to at school sometimes but you would never want to spend time with if you had the choice. And that stops me from maintaining friendships, from really trying to reach out and talk to others. But everytime I try that the people I know are busy or something like that, and it feels like my worst fears are confirmed. I’m probably too needy of a friend, too clingy, but it hurts all the same to not be able to spend time with the people I like.

So why am I like this? It’s hard to say really, a huge multitude of reasons to breakdown and analyze. When I was growing up I was an awful arrogant bully and maybe the way I am now is justice for how I acted. I hate my younger self honestly, they were a little dick. After I got into 6th grade I guess I just retreated into my shell, I didn’t know how to make friends or talk to people so I didn’t. I don’t know what my reputation was back then or if I had a reputation, it was probably more likely that no one noticed my presence or cared for it. As the years went by I became more and more withdrawn, I had a couple friends and made some in my different classes but I would always let them go for the next year. I was alone for a lot. Luckily for me in 9th and 10th grade my friend group now really got together, like we all started hanging out and playing dnd and it was nice to finally have a group to call my own. To have people I didn’t have to worry about texting or talking to or any of that. I still did worry though, I barely ever initiate conversations and I’m usually ignored. It’s sort of funny cuz even now that happens and I think it’s really fed into my self esteem issues. It’s no fault of there’s though I’m not blaming them, I say stupid things a lot. Things that aren’t worth responding too and I can’t just expect them to want to talk to me about dumb things I guess. It’s still something that when I think about it makes my insides feel like they’re on fire though. I really only talked about my social anxiety but I think I have other issues that I don’t really feel like getting into now honestly so maybe another time.

So that leaves what do I want to be. And I think about this a lot, everything I think about are more nebulous dreams than any sort of hardset goal. Lofty wishes that will probably go unfulfilled because I lack the conviction to go through with them. The goal or dream or expectation or whatever you want to call it would be my dream to be a girl. And I guess with that dream I could say I’m a girl, I’m a trans girl. But I want the stuff that goes with that I want female body parts I want people to see me as a girl I want to be able to transition without my friends and family ostracizing me. I want to be a normal person, not a freak of society. I wish so bad that I was born cis, female or male I don’t care just with a body that I didn’t hate as much as I do now. And I guess in my dream I’ve gotten there, I might not have gone back in time and become cis but I pass as a woman, I have the parts I want. I’m happy that way. My other major dream is to have money, I guess that sounds shallow but god is it daunting to think about how all I have to look forward in life is being another cog in the workforce, and that’s it. Work my entire life away at some shitty job and never go anywhere or do anything. My life now isn’t worth that price and I’d rather just end it if I needed to. My third dream and the most attainable feeling so far would be my dream to be an author, a famous author with well liked books would be nice but I’d settle for being a minor author with a decent fan base. I want to write a story that people like, that people enjoy, that I enjoy. And once I write the stories I want maybe I could write something worthwhile, something that’s not fantasy or sci-fi but something that people will remember or take something away from. A way for me to really convey how I feel.

So I’ve said what I want to be, what I am, and all that. And I have no idea how I’ll ever get there. I’m stuck the way I am now and unless I really start trying to change I don’t think anything will happen. I’m like a leaf being swept away by a current, unable to do anything but just float along in life. Never doing anything worthwhile or noteworthy. Barely even surviving. And certainly not living. So I don’t think I can say I’m happy right now. It’s hard to say I feel anything a lot of the time, I just feel empty.

[themelbournetone]

Top 10 Albums of the 2010s [Countdown]

Written by: Ziggy Cross

The world has changed a lot in the last ten years, but luckily for us, music still exists. Without further ado, here’s the 10 best albums that were the soundtrack to our decade:

2010 - THIS IS HAPPENING, LCD SOUNDSYSTEM

This Is Happening is the third and “final” album by New York dance band LCD Soundsystem, released before their 2011 split (ending with the legendary 4-hour Madison Square Garden farewell show).

Following up their sophomore LP, Sound Of Silver, was always going to be a huge task, and This Is Happening holds up well, while also having an insanely ink-able title. It isn’t the group’s best album, it’s sure as hell a good way to start off the decade.

Highlights include the albums opener Dance Yrself Clean, I Can Change, and All I Want (which might sound strangely familiar to fans of David Bowie, who was a friend of LCD’s frontman James Murphy).

Notable mentions: Tourist History - Two Door Cinema Club, The Suburbs - Arcade Fire

2011 - THE ENGLISH RIVIERA, METRONOMY

The English Riviera is the third album from English indie pop band Metronomy. This is their most commercially successful album to date, including notable singles The Bay, and The Look. Most of this album was made solo by founder and producer Joseph Mount, with occasional assistance from the band members who have joined him along the way.

The album strongly rewards repeat listens, with tracks that might seem bizarre at first becoming certified bops after enough plays. The whole album is filled with some outrageous sounds from an extensive library of hardware synths. On the track Some Written, Mount brings out profound kazoo talent, as well as some impressive clarinet use in the following track, Love Underlined.

2011 was a huge year of development for the indie pop genre, with more bands embracing an electronic sound. It would seem that all the stars aligned for this release, and put them on the map. Metronomy is a band who have built a reputation for pushing limits, while managing to stay approachable enough for a wide appeal. They’ve got some pretty weird tracks if you’re willing to test the waters, but The English Riviera is without a doubt the best place to start.

Notable mentions: Torches - Foster The People, This Modern Glitch - The Wombats

2012 - BLOOM, BEACH HOUSE

Bloom is the fourth album from Baltimore dream pop band Beach House, and is their highest charting album to date. The album is packed with luscious synth and melancholy soaked guitar, reverberating in every direction far and wide. 

The track list is impressively solid, and while a lot of tracks may appear quite “same-y” at first listen, they are nuanced enough to allow for some great repeat listening. You always know what to expect when you’re listening to Beach House, and they never fail to please.

Bloom is filled with some incredibly memorable tracks, and some highlights include: lead single Myth, with its incredibly powerful guitar build and grounding synth line, Lazuli, with its catchy vocal stacking and driving synth arpeggio, and New Years, with it’s ear worm of vocal melody that will stay in your mind for all of eternity.

Beach House have established their own brand of melancholy, and Bloom is probably their best showcase of that. Along with many of the other great releases from 2012, this one is for those whose hearts play in a minor key.

Notable mentions: Dark Eyes - Half Moon Run, Bored Nothing - Bored Nothing

2013 - TROUBLE WILL FIND ME, THE NATIONAL

After the wild success of The National’s 2010 album High Violet, I’m sure many fans wondered what the band would do next. Trouble Will Find Me features wall-to-wall lyrical and instrumentational masterpieces. This is a *seriously* solid album.

The album has a great mix of ‘great-the-first-time’rs, and plenty of ‘this-will-hit-hard-on-listen-twenty’s too. Believe me when I say, every listen of this album will  leave you with a different ‘favourite song’.

Standout tracks include: I Need My Girl, a love song written by Berninger about missing his wife and daughter who stayed at home while he was on the road, and Don’t Swallow The Cap, a medium tempo alt-rock doomer anthem with the same understated power of LCD’s All My Friends.

Trouble Will Find Me also serves as a perfect warm up for the bands latest (2019) release I Am Easy To Find, if you’re that kind of fan. But I mean come on... even the titles match!

Notable mentions: The Bones Of What You Believe - CHVRCHES, Overgrown - James Blake

2014 - ABOUT FACE, #1 DADS

About Face is a special kind of album. Melbournite and all round musical genius Tom Iansek (also of Big Scary and No Mono) never fails to release pure magic into this world. His work truly is the hidden gem of Melbourne’s music scene - and those who have found it could not cherish it more.

Behind it’s quiet front, About Face holds the emotional force of a B-52 fighter jet. The production and gentle instrumentation will move you with force, there isn’t a single unremarkable track.

It should also be noted how impressive the lineup of collaborators on this album is; Tom Snowden, Ainslie Wills, Airling, AND that incredible saxophonist on Camberwell (you know what I’m talking about 😉).

It’s should come as no surprise that this album was nominated for an Australian Music Prize. While it did lose to REMI’s Raw X Infinity, at least we can have some comfort in knowing that Tom did win the prize the year before, for the wonderful Big Scary album, Not Art.

Notable mentions: There There - Washington, The Dew Lasts An Hour - Ballet School

2015 - CARRIE & LOWELL, SUFJAN STEVENS

“I don’t know where to begin...” where do you even start with an album like Carrie & Lowell!? How do you follow up an album that ended with one of the most powerful 25+ minute epics ever made? (I’m talking about Impossible Soul, if you haven’t heard it in full, drop everything and listen now - and if you have heard it, enjoy this shorter Car Seat Headrest cover)

Upon it’s release, Carrie & Lowell was hugely successful with critics, and was often cited as Sufjan’s best work yet. This album is quiet, I can’t count the number of times I've fallen asleep to this album on the train home from the city.

Despite it’s soft production, this album hits hard with it’s lyrics, something Sufjan now has now had over 20 years experience perfecting. Standouts include Should Have Known Better, Blue Bucket of Gold, and Fourth of July (see Sufjan leading a festival chant of ‘we’re all gonna die’ with the power of 10,000 suns here).

This album holds a warm place in many listeners hearts, and is well deserving of 2015′s top spot.

Notable mentions: Pretend You’re Mine - Pearls, The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us - Beach Slang

2016 - 22, A MILLION, BON IVER

Notable mentions: Not To Disappear - Daughter, Light Upon The Lake - Whitney

2017 - GO FARTHER IN LIGTHNESS, GANG OF YOUTHS

Standouts include slow burner Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane, anthemic Atlas Drowned, past punching What Can I Do If the Fire Goes Out?, and once in a lifetime worship anthem to Nietzschean affirmation Say Yes to Life. 

Read our review of the album here.

Notable mentions: Zone - Cloud Control, Visions Of A Life - Wolf Alice

2018 - FUTURE ME HATES ME, THE BETHS

Notable mentions: Lush - Snail Mail, Evening Machines - Gregory Alan Isakov

2019 - LOW GRADE BUZZ, HUNTLY

Notable mentions: You Deserve Love - White Reaper, First Body - Two People

[unusualite]

My Body

I don’t recall a time where I wasn’t being hassled about my weight. Really. I have this memory, I think I was in third grade, I was in my room, browsing my drawers, and I found this old pair of shorts, they were purple with some kind of flower pattern,  I tried them on, and I remember feeling so proud that they fit I went to my parents room to show them. Now, I don’t remember exactly what I thought, but it was something along the lines of me not being too fat. I was 8.

However, the official diagnosis didn’t come until fourth grade, that was the year I got the label. Overweight. From then on, it’s a blur of diets and zero weight loss. I must have gone through 10 nutritionists in a span of about 6 years. From friendly diets, to not-so-friendly diets. This one time in eighth grade, I spent an entire month eating turkey scallopini and lettuce with balsamic vinegar. To this day I can’t eat turkey scallopini.

Now, I have a very vivid imagination and spend most of my days thinking up scenarios, about dream outfits, celebrities, my future life, anything and everything. And whenever I would think of the future, I would picture myself skinny. Whether it was in two months or two years, I would picture myself skinny and would include the period of time where I lost the weight. It was ninth or tenth grade when this changed. I had a revelation of sorts. But before this revelation, something happened.

I don’t know how long before, but sometime prior, my brother picked me up from school and there was this woman, who was his friend, and also, a personal trainer, I knew this because two of my friends trained with her. I’d never seen her around before and they weren’t acting like a couple, so I found her presence strange, a few minutes into the ride, small talk gives way to the intervention that followed. They denied it, but it was what it was, an intervention. The woman, let’s call her Melanie, started talking to me about losing weight and exercising, eating properly, the whole jazz. I was trapped in the car, so I had no choice but to listen. Now this is the part where I tell you I saw God in her place and changed my ways and now I’m a VS Angel, right? Spoiler alert, it’s not.

Melanie told me about how she herself used to be overweight and how she became the epitome of fitness, and how much better she felt afterward. She asked me if I disliked my body, I answered honestly, I said “No”, and then she went on to tell that I just think I’m okay with it, that she thought that too, and then she lost weight and discovered this new life, wearing clothes she didn’t wear before, not hiding or being ashamed of her body. Again I told her I didn’t relate to any of that, I liked my body, I wore my skinny jeans, shook my booty when Daddy Yankee came over the speakers. After that she asked me if I would feel the same way if Emily (one of my best friends and fellow member of the #growingupfat club, who she was training at the moment) were skinny, would I feel as good in my body, if I were the only one in my group to be fat, would it still be okay with me? At this point I was done with Melanie, yes I’d be okay with that, hadn’t we established that a million times?! Not long after we arrived home, where I exited the car and probably ignored my brother for days.

Looking back on it, I realize something that was probably what subconsciously triggered my realization, and it was that while Melanie spent 20 minutes trying to convince me I hated myself, the only thing she managed to do was convince me that she hated herself. And what I realized a while later, was that, I loved my body.

One random day, I was looking in the mirror, buck naked, and thought, “Huh… I like what I’m seeing.” I never actively thought about my body, I just did what people told me to do, to diet and lose weight, I never actually took into account my own opinion, and in that moment, I started to. From that day on, I was no longer VS Angel in my fantasies, I was just me, and I loved it.

This is the period my mom probably hates the most, since I wasn’t even trying to pretend to care about my weight, numerous family members approached me about it, and none of them believed me when I told them I liked myself the way I was, not my mom, and not my brother, who would instead get this look on his face, as if he thought nobody could ever love me. It’s okay, I knew one day someone would. I’m gonna be honest with you though, I wasn’t living a healthy life. I ate poorly and more than I even wanted to. I was consistently gaining weight, which wasn't okay and I knew it. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I had to change my habits, lest I die of a heart attack. Still, I wasn’t ready to.

This is something for all the concerned loved ones out there, a person will loose weight only when they’re ready. Offer help, other advice, don’t push. Also, know your place, bodies are all different, not everyone can have Kendall Jenner’s body. No matter how hard you exercise, or how well you eat, some of us, will always have love handles, and that’s okay. My point here is, that I am currently on a diet, or rather, changing my eating habits for the best, I can’t really call it a diet, since I don’t follow it very well, I eat way better, but still live my life (re: I still eat pizza). I have since lost 20 pounds, and have 15 or 20 pounds (I don’t know how much, we’ll see when we get there) to go.  I won’t lose 60 pounds in order to gain it all back, nor do I want to, I’m losing weight because I was very overweight and rising, my lifestyle was skewed and I needed to straighten it out, and I won’t have a “bikini body” when I’m done, I’ll still have my love handles and my big thighs and cute belly (sadly no ass, I was not blessed with that), it’ll be my body, healthier.

I have spent the past three years preaching self-love and telling my friends that hating their bodies wasn’t the way to loose weight. And they didn’t believe me, sure maybe they believed I liked my body, but they sure as hell didn’t think accepting theirs would make it any easier to change it, they argued that loving it would be settling and then they wouldn’t want to change it. I couldn’t exactly prove it to them, since, you know, I hadn’t lost weight, but now I can, and have since realized why it was that loving myself helped me changed my habits.

In the process of this diet, I haven’t really felt caged, again, I follow the diet very freely, so figures, but the fact is, most of the time I follow it, and then when I’m with my friends I break  it. I’m just living my life, not really thinking about it, and yeah the process has been slow, but it works for me. And that’s just it, the diet is a part of my day, not all of it, losing weight has a designated space in my head, it doesn’t occupy all of it. The same way a love based of passion alone eventually runs out, a diet fueled  with self-hatred too lasts very little. If you don’t love your body all you think about is that, you lose weight and you gain it. Having a “beach-ready body” isn’t going to stop you from comparing yourself to others, it’s not going to magically vanish the need for validation, and when it doesn’t come, in comes the binging, and up goes the scale. It’s a vicious cycle, and if your self-value is based off external stimulation, then you’re gonna have a hard time keeping yourself stable, in all aspects of life, not just body image.

If you have lost weight and found your happiness, I’m glad, if you haven’t lost weight and have also found your happiness, I’m glad. If you haven’t found it though, a number on a scale won’t change that, such a thing can only come from within. Nurture your self-esteem, everyday find something you like about yourself, and if you need professional help, there's no shame in that, we could all do with a few sessions every once in a while. Let’s stop hating ourselves, okay?