#learn sap classes near me

[syntaxlevelup1]

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SyntaxLevelUp offers a full stack developer course in Pune with placement assistance, helping you land a job soon after you graduate. Here’s a breakdown of the core areas covered:

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[aldisobey]

🌳WIP Wednesday🌳

Tagged by a true savant of the savory script @heylittleriotact and figure I can add a snippet from the longer fic I’m working on. This bit is set maybe a few weeks after Epilogue everything is still very rough and subject to change. Everything’s a mess right now but we’re having fun because the beat sheet is fun hell yeah.

I’ll throw tags @pluckedstrings @by-ilmater if y’all have anything to share with me! (No pressure). Anyone and everyone tag me in their stuff I want to seeeee. ( @emmg I know you’ve been tagged but I’m taggin ya so you can see)

—————

The Fade sky hinted blue, rolled with ochre clouds, a harsh light, white, flickered source less on the whispering lilac leaves of a massive tree. The trunk black, at times glinting deep purple. Six mean arm spans would be needed to embrace it whole. Roots spread varicose, some thick, others thin, and all creeping half out of ground, crawling far as they might reach. Digging, grasping at the pale mint of the ground below, a fist clenched in ‘earth’, a smell of moss and sap which ran, here and there, chartreuse, cobalt, burgundy.

It twisted, sturdy with mild lean, a spiraling in the bark pattern, and near where crown began it splintered, parted in paths, heart-like. All those branches spread achingly, greedy in the manner of great arteries with their countless capillary offshoots, propagated veins latched diagonal, fell down in lines. Dense with barely a trace of light reaching ground through all the dancing of countless hushed leaves, movements languid, liquid, as if the entire beast were submerged.

A voice could be heard, a faint echo hint, “...and dearest when the season turns we can go skating.” Almost a hum, “Perhaps. You might learn to swim first.” Stronger there a moment, a pause. “Classes are always running should something strike your fancy, for swimming as well. Though that, I think, is something I’d share with you.” Emmrich sat nestled into the tree with Rook’s head in his lap. The space of trunk and root and branch folded around them as if held in gentle palm. The man lay flat, cradled by earth and bone and bark while the lich played at making small braids in the shoulder length waves of auburn hair.

Emmrich’s voice was ever present, rhythmic words and a gentle laugh as he twined bits of glinting fabric in the hair. Gold perhaps. Or silver. At times emerald, sapphire, ruby, but such was Fade that it played with sight and it was difficult to perceive. But the professor kept a low voice talking, pastoral. One with a critical eye would note the diligence, the hunched figure of the skeleton as he bent focused to the work at hand. Those linen wrapped bones were steady. Still as death with every shining strand added.

“Emmrich…” Rook’s voice soft, as if spoken while dreaming.

The necromancer ceased all movement, skull tilting over quick to catch a word, “Yes my love?”

Too pale lips smiled, “You sound…” Rook’s finger’s twitched, made to rise, perhaps to touch at Emmrich’s face, but they were caught. The lich brought his hand to them, laced his fingers with Rook’s and squeezed tight, “...worried.” Words out with a sigh, still blissful.

“Dearest heart, it is nothing for you to trouble over, simply the stressors of being the ‘Young’ Volkarin among my peers. All is well. You are safe here.” Clothed thumb wiped the man’s brow, came back wet. Sweat starting to bead. Rook mumbled something unintelligible, millisecond of a grimace, and then a sigh, “Everything,” Emmrich trailed his fingers on the man’s head, a glancing cooling kiss of linen as Rook muttered, “...feels heavy.”

“Like…” His chest moved a little faster, color in cheek draining. “underwater…” Emmrich gave a start, hand flinching back from Rook’s head. “But…hot.”

“Oh, my darling Rook, rest. Take a breath. Slow. Deep. As you’ve practiced. I’ll return shortly.” And in a swift movement the roots and trunk and earth shifted, took hold where Emmrich had held as he slipped out and away. Rook nudged not an inch, only a few strands of hair falling heavy with their gilding.

Emmrich didn’t walk so much as ‘shift’ from where he’d been, and Fade melded real, soles of his shoes heavy on the stone floor. The bulk form of spreading branches remained above, trunk connecting to roots below, shape only similar now, in all metallic hue, as physical came to view.

[visualtaehyun]

today on- Random new Thai expressions I stumble upon ✨

🦷 เหยิน /yeern/ and other recent slang

So I realized I haven't had time to lurk on twt for the entirety of the Christmas season and all the way into the new year which apparently was more than enough time for me to miss a bunch of new slang expressions emerging. The most confusing upon first encountering it definitely was this tooth one though (no context yet, iykyk, otherwise just keep reading lol). Without further ado- context -> explanation, let's go!

Reminder: not a native speaker but a learner of Thai 🙏

Fig.1: A clip from New's most recent tiktok live, in which fans teased him and he teased back lol Sidenote: am I gonna have to finally give in and download the ticky tock just so I can hopefully catch a mumeow gaming stream live for once? 😭

^translatable auto-subs available if needed, I'm lazy today

✨ Confusion ✨ I had heard the associated คลินิกหมอฟันใกล้ฉัน /clinic maaw fan glai chan/ (=dental clinic near me) before but this clip is contextually confusing enough as is with how absent from socials I've been so off I ran to twt-

Okay then! Context? ✅ We're talking about Teacher's Day and this tweet about P'Zee's character Charan who is an art teacher. Also- the novel's first CharanKhanin NC scene famously has an 'art class/learning art' set-up if y'all didn't know already.

เหยิน /yeern/ though? ❌ I'd seen or heard the tooth meme, as I shall dub it, a handful of times now already so this felt like THE time to finally search it up 😤

/yeern/ means /yeern/ means teen slang /yeern/ what does it mean tooth /yeern/ means

Always good to know I'm not the only lost soul out here 👍 Always hilarious to see a familiar face pop up who's just as confused:

What does /yeern/ mean? Where's it taken from? What is it? What sentence, to do with what, do you use it in? Please help #FayePeraya

A kind fan in the replies helpfully shared this funny BKPP clip from a FEE:D interview (in full here) where PP provides a clueless but enthusiastic Billkin with new slang expressions to bless viewers for the new year with 😂 So let's go through them! By which I mean- let's steamroll through them, considering half of these are explained with even more slang expressions lmaooo

- BK: Any new words? Update? - PP: โฮ่ง / BK: โฮ่ง!

โฮ่ง /hong/ means เลิศ /leert/ (=fab, slay, amazing), ดีงาม /dee ngaam/ (=good, excellent)

- PP: สับ สับ สับ / BK: สับ สับ สับ

สับ /sap/ means ดูเลิศ /duu leert/ (=looking fab), ดูเฟียส /duu fierce/ (=looking fierce) -> addendum: สับ /sap/ = lit. chop, chopped; หุ่นสับ /hoon sap/ = snatched figure

- PP: เสิร์ฟๆ /serve/ - BK: I wish everyone to serve. สับ สับ สับ - PP: No! - BK: What now, huh? - PP: ชีเสิร์ฟๆ /she serve/ - BK: I wish she serves this year!

ชีเสิร์ฟ She served - ทำถึง /tham theung/, ถึงเครื่อง /theung khreuuang/ (=extremely good)

- BK: I hope everyone ฮ็อป's!

ฮ็อป /hawp/ - symptom of someone suppressing a smile, holding back on ฟิน /fin/ (=from the English 'finale' or 'finish'; super happy or fulfilled, on cloud nine, over the moon)

- PP: เหยินๆ - BK: And that everyone เหยิน's--

เหยิน /yeern/ - symptom of someone suppressing a smile with the teeth visible -> addendum: เหยิน /yeern/ = protrude; ฟันเหยิน /fan yeern/ = protruding teeth, buckteeth

- BK: And that everyone will be She served. ...this year-- - PP: มันจะไอ้นั่น - BK: What's that, what's it mean? What does it mean? - PP: It's that thing na~ It's, like, something like that. - BK: It's that thing na y'all. It is That Thing na kha!

มันจะไอ้นั่น /man ja ai'nan/ - phrase from "Auntie Tim Scoops Curry", said to leave out (what is meant) with a basis of understanding

- PP: End with She Served! - BK: She Served kha 💅

The End.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk chaotic post at the crossroads of Thai language acquisition, Thai QL fandom, and my NuNew goggles! If anyone managed to follow this stream-of-consciousness mess then congratulations, you've unlocked my way of 'learning' Thai 😂 ทำถึงมากนะคุณน้า

[germanmadeeasys]

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[coursemba4321]

E-accounting course near me

E-Accounting Course Near Me: The Future of Accounting Education

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Take the first step towards a promising career—search for the best e-accounting course near you today!

[entamewitchlulu]

this is popping off a bit so here's some other things from my college writing degree that pissed me off

when I interviewed at the college and talked to the then-head of the writing department, I told him I had been writing since I was 9 years old and he wrinkled his nose at me and said something condescending about how "when people get started in this degree course we usually have to unteach you a lot of what you've learned". I do not know why I chose to go to that college after that.

there was a creative writing degree available but there were no classes on genre, and we weren't allowed to write anything bordering on genre in class at all. we were only allowed to write realistic fiction because "we don't have time to teach you the rules of genre, and all genre is formulaic".

which like. 1) sure there are formulas involved in genre, and a lot of mainstream publishing will follow certain general arcs, it's nowhere near as rigid as my teachers insisted it was. Like, as an example, the only real "rule" for the romance genre is that it should have a happy ending. anything else is like, whatever you want. This sort of thing would take about five minutes to show you a worksheet about story arcs.

2) why would setting a story in the future or another world "ruin" my ability to learn how to write "properly." It's not like we're learning fucking welding or something where if we don't learn the basics we take someone's eye out. Fiddling with genre tropes isn't physically dangerous. What is the worst that could happen, genuinely. What were they all so afraid of.

3) can you imagine being in an intro to art course and being told "you are ONLY allowed to use acrylics because we don't have time to teach you about watercolors. Mixed media is also not allowed and we won't do any pencil drawing.

Again, like. All they had were basic creative writing classes. They said they were teaching us the basics but then they didn't even give us the option to branch out.

In my attempt to write something I actually gave a shit about in this class I ended up making my main piece a story about a nonbinary kid dealing with the death of zir aunt who was the only one who had understood zir and respected zir identity. My teacher proceeded to tell me the story would have more weight if I misgendered my character until the end of the story so that ze would "earn" zir pronouns.

I cried on the college green for like twenty minutes after that workshop

No I did not know I was nonbinary at that point yet. wonder if that had something to do with it. anyway.

anyway. college writing fucking sucked and almost took away all of my love of writing in general as I struggled to squeeze out some lame ass story that fit the requirements but didn't mean anything to me personally.

On the topic of genre again like. My teachers all wanted us to make stories that "meant something" but in the course of trying to force meaning, especially in ways that I didn't enjoy, sapped all the joy out of writing. Since then I've read dozens of really fucking incredible spec fic short stories that used the trappings of genre to tell some really jaw dropping stories, and I think we should have learned about those alongside the other dry short stories we were forced to write and study. But for whatever reason, there's this deep-seated disgust of genre and genre-adjacent fiction in academic settings.

I truly think the fact that we're such a language-based species, we get all tight assed and weird about writing more than we do about other art forms.

And yea of course it's a skill that can be honed, but it's also an art, and more intro to creative writing classes should be devoted to playing around, experimenting, and making weird shit the way a basic intro art class would be. We need an injection of whimsy.

anyway. That's my two cents.

once i was in a creative writing class in college, and in a bit of humor i wrote the line:

"Um," I said, eloquently.

And my teacher was so adamant that I had to remove it because "um is not an eloquent word, so it makes no sense" and i was like my brother in christ it's called Irony

[12thcommerceclassesnearme]

commerce coaching near me for class 12

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[sapficotrainingtips]

SAP FICO Course Near Me

Exploring Opportunities: SAP FICO Course Near Me

In the pursuit of professional growth, finding convenient avenues for specialized training can make a substantial difference. With SAP FICO (Financial Accounting and Controlling) courses available in close proximity, achieving mastery in financial management has become more accessible than ever.

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The relevance of SAP FICO expertise in today's job market is significant. Completing a course nearby not only enhances your financial skills but also opens doors to diverse career prospects, ranging from financial analysts to SAP consultants.

By enrolling in an SAP FICO course close to you, you're seizing an opportunity to master financial management. As businesses continue to adopt SAP solutions, your proficiency could set you apart in the competitive landscape, driving your career forward in the ever-evolving world of finance.

[kiribaku-fics-whatever]

Roommates

The Quiet Dance by justalogicalruse

"Why don’t we find a place together?" Eijirou had asked him, talking through a mouthful of food.

"What are you on about now, Shitty Hair?"

"After we graduate," Eijirou swallowed, "Why don’t we live together?"

It was a smart idea, Katsuki can acknowledge that. He should have thought of it himself. Their agencies are near each other, rent will be cheaper, he won’t have to put up with some shitty roommate he met online, etc etc. There’s a hundred reasons why living with Eijirou made sense, not one of them being 'I don’t want to lose you when this madness is over'.

---

Katsuki finds himself falling hopelessly in love with his best friend, struggling to come to terms with his feelings and the concept of emotional vulnerability.

Sun Sets Red by Shippeh

Eijirou Kirishima considered himself lucky. He'd been accepted to a good college, he was picking up new friends like flies to sugar, and the random lottery had paired him with a really cool roommate, Izuku.

Unfortunately, the new roommate seemed to come unconditionally with a very bizarre asshole of a dude.

For You in Warm Summer by Dionte

Kirishima got into the school of his dreams on a soccer scholarship, and he was excited. He was prepared for the tough training and classes, but he wasn’t prepared for one thing. His new roommate, Bakugo Katsuki.

Fight Me by mr_todoroki

Bright red, spiky hair. Annoyingly bright smile. Clothes that radiate ‘look at me’ vibes. Neon yellow tank top with black shorts. And those were definitely crocs on his fucking feet.

Yeah, Katsuki hated this guy.

-

Bakugou gets a new roommate.

A Damn Good Pair by PurplePersnickety

Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder what the public would think if they saw Kirishima the way he was at home. He cried at romcoms like the sap that he was, touched every time by the romance-by-numbers formula. He told stupid jokes and waited with eager eyes for Katsuki to laugh at them. He sang cheesy power ballads in the shower in the middle of the fucking day.

He was a dork, and honestly? Anyone who saw it would probably find themselves more endeared by him. Too bad for all those desperate fans that they didn’t get to be Kirishima’s roommate, ha.

Falling on Deaf Ears by boatsyournotes

When Bakugou told people he was Deaf to get out of socializing, he didn't think much of it. A few weeks later, basically the entire campus knows he's Deaf and he's been assigned a roommate that knows sign language. He's ready to hate his roommate and spend the entire school year ignoring him, but there's just something about Kirishima that he can't help but like. Things get complicated when Bakugou hears Kirishima say things he isn't supposed to hear.

but i've got an angry heart by newamsterdam

He’s about to open his door to go to the shared bathroom on this floor when he notices the scrap of paper that’s been pushed under his door. It’s a salmon-colored flashcard, the type that’s sold in 500-packs with multiple colors. Bakugou stoops to retrieve it, frowning at the message he finds written on it.

Hey neighbor, welcome to the house! I heard you knocking things around, yesterday, and I think you maybe punched a wall? Anyway, the landlady gets pissy if you put holes in the wall, but I have a punching bag! You can come over and use it, or I can move it into the hall, if you want!

There’s only one other bedroom on the fourth floor. Now, Bakugou crosses the hall to the bedroom on the right side, slamming the post-it note against the door.

Fuck off and die, it reads.

Bakugou Katsuki is not going to jeopardize his future a second time, and that means staying away from anyone who gets too close. Kirishima Eijirou has never learned how not to be close to someone. Of course, they end up as next-door neighbors.

Don't by Trenchcoatkitten

Kirishima is out of a place to live - and Bakugou gives him a perfect solution

OR

And they were roommates. (Oh my god they were roommates) Basically I just needed these babies being soft and sweet and domestic okay. Light angst cause I'm ~still a piece of garbage~ and I can't help it.

come on crash into me, 'cause i want us to collide by rronanllynch

Bakugou can't figure out why he's suddenly homophobic after he moves in with Kirishima. (Plot twist: it turns out he doesn't have any problem with Kirishima kissing guys if it’s him he’s kissing.)

Based on this absolutely iconic reddit post: https://www.gaystarnews.com/article/straight-guy-worries-hes-homophobic-gay-roommate-ends-falling-love/

shapes in the dark by sobistars

“Hey, Bakugou?”

“I said go to sleep!”

“I can’t sleep,” he reminds him, smiling when Bakugou just grumbles in response. “I was thinking.”

“That’s a surprise. Clear your head, stupid.”

“I can’t,” Kirishima whines. “I was thinking, you could come up to my bunk.”

Teeth and Hearts are Bared by dragontrappedinhumanskin

Newly turned vampire Bakugo is having trouble adjusting, until he runs into a human who knows a lot more then him.

--

Bakugo’s eyes dropped as the man sat down, and caught on white bandages wrapped around the man’s left forearm and the memories of last night rushed through Bakugo’s head.

“Are—” Bakugo gaped and snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting up to meet the man’s gaze, “How are you alive?”

the fool's rush by chonideno

Settling down with each other is naturally what comes after being dorm neighbors for years. It’s time to navigate through adulthood together, to live the daily grind of being pro-heroes, to learn more than they thought they’d like to know about each other, about themselves.

Or how Bakugou and Kirishima find a way to call each other “home” and struggle with the realization that once all their bills are on auto-pay, the only thing they still have to deal with is this pit full of feelings they have ignored for too long.

[enfate03]

Secondhand

Chapter One ♡ Curious

wc: 3k

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Secondhand is both a term for a person’s second lover after their soulmate and the name of the bar you own. Your father had helped you with the funds necessary to buy out a failing old records store, and you had replaced the stacks of music with shelves of alcohol and fit the place out with some shiny pool tables and a jukebox that was just for show. There was even a stage for any performers or brave karaoke-goers to sing on. It wasn’t the most beautiful or popular bar in the area, but it had become your passion project after failing to gain admittance to any decent universities outside your hometown. Instead, you kept the place afloat with the business knowledge learned from attending classes at your local community college, and it was a decent enough profit. More than someone like you could ever hope to earn working for someone else.

But what you like most about it is the people you meet. Growing up you’d never had friends close enough to confide in, but at Secondhand you’re just the nobody bartender; it doesn’t matter to these people if you’re defective or not. All they usually want is some company, and you are more than happy to give it. Almost once a week like clockwork, some sad sap will plant themself in front of the bar for hours, practically begging to spill out their soul. This allows you to hear about all kinds of soulmate experiences, including a particularly wild one about a body-swap that lasted months before the destined pair could finally meet in person.

But none of them had ever been as bad as his.

The man had come in with a white baseball cap slung over his eyes, and his sure footsteps heavily contrasted the slouch of his shoulders. You could see tufts of inky black hair escaping from his hat, but it wasn’t until he sat down that you noticed his pained, yet piercingly clear eyes. He stared off into nothing, even as he ordered a beer from the tap, but a part of you was curious to know what his gaze on your skin would feel like.

Sometimes customers are just waiting for you to ask, and that would uncork the stream of words ready to fall out of their mouths. But this man wasn’t like the others, and you kept your distance from him originally, noting to be careful to cut him off if he were attempting to drown his sorrows.

But he nursed his one beer all night, sometimes startling if you wiped down the counter next to him. At one thirty, after almost three hours of glaring a hole into the wall, he finally broke.

“I didn’t believe her at first.” Your hands stilled any movement at his sentence, waiting for him to continue. “She just—she knew I was a trainee, and I was tired of the way she treated me. We weren’t even eighteen yet! When she confessed to me, I just brushed her off. Barely gave her the time of day.” His fists were furiously rubbing his eyes, and you stayed quiet like a priest at confession. It wasn’t your place to interrupt.

His lips quirked up in a self-deprecating smile, one that made you recoil at the disturbed emotion that sustained it. “It was easy enough to forget about her. I was caught up in my career, in the things I wanted to accomplish, and I knew that even interacting with her could be dangerous. She was the very definition of the wrong place at the wrong time. If she had told me as I am now, I’m sure I would have believed her from the start.”

You couldn’t help it, but his preface bored you. He was making excuses not to you, but to himself. He could assuage his guilt in his own time, but you wanted to get to the meat of his story, “Did she leave you?”

At that, he looked up at you, staring you directly in the eyes for the first time that night. “She’s not dead.”

“Not what I asked.” Your place closes at two, and seeing that it was nearing closing, you started stacking the chairs up on the tables. “But if she left you, she has no choice but to come back.”

Without experiencing it firsthand, you had learned that the bond between soulmates was more than just a connected soulmark. There was a physical response that came from an accepted bond, one that could lengthen someone’s life or cure a migraine by a simple touch. Soulmates that tried to reject their other half without formally undergoing the ritual never lasted for long, usually because the pain kept growing as if a noose were tightening around their neck the longer they stayed away.

“When I woke up on my eighteenth, I saw the mark and knew she was right. But I didn’t try to find her. I was so close to debut. I just expected her to come to me when she could prove it.

“She never did.”

Hearing his story and the finality in his words made you stop in your tracks, wondering what type of pair would stay away from each other for so long. Most people would have killed to find their soulmate at such a young age. It was a privilege that they had somehow met before destiny kicked in. “So, you haven’t completed your mark?”

He rolled back the sleeve on his right arm before holding it up in your view. You were expecting to see someone’s name or an object inked on his skin. Instead, the mark was so faded that it was barely visible, and you couldn’t make out what it was. “How could we?” Your curiosity was answered. His gaze left your skin prickling under its heat.  

Your conversation was abruptly stopped by the chiming of the cuckoo clock that hung from behind the bar. You wanted to invite the man to stay longer, but instead he rolled his sleeve back down, slapped some money on the counter, and left without another word.

The next time the man comes in, he’s with his friends and in seemingly brighter spirits. They all laugh together and some of them even break out in dance from time to time. They monopolize the pool tables while the man strolls to the counter to order some drinks.

“Did she finally come see you?” you ask. For days after he left, you hadn’t been able to get the conversation with him out of your head. The unresolved nature of it made you feel on edge. There was something about how hopeless he felt that struck you as odd considering the man is, at most, in his early twenties. You knew there were pieces of his story missing that kept you from seeing the full picture.

Surprisingly, he shakes his head. “Celebrating something else.” You hand him a tray with six real drinks and one mock drink, and he takes it back to his friends, not sparing you a second glance.

You’re not fooled by his nonchalant demeanor. He’s obviously still hung up on this girl, even if he pretends like he isn’t in front of his friends. In between serving other customers, you watch him closely. Sometimes it feels like he’s overcompensating with his laughter, slapping his friend’s shoulder if something strikes him as particularly funny. But most of the time you catch him lurking in the background, his foul mood omitting a blackened aura that seems visible only to you.

At one point, one of his friends comes over, this one with plumper lips curved into a genuine smile, the apple of his cheeks round and prominent. “Can I request a song?” he inquires.

Usually, the music that plays in the background of the bar is wordless, helping to attain a calming vibe since you have no one to help if someone were to get agitated and start making a mess. But you feel obliged to the mysterious man who’s sharply looking over in your direction as if daring you to turn them down.

“Sure.” You pull out your phone that’s connected via Bluetooth to the speakers and unlock it. “Here, put it on,” You hand it to him, trusting him to find what he needs without help.

Moments later, your speakers start blasting a song you’ve heard before in ice cream shops and ramen restaurants. A nostalgic rock melody plays, the men gathered around the pool table start to cheer, and the one who chose the song thanks you before running to join them. A few more songs play after the original one, all seeming to be by the same group, and the group orders a couple more rounds in the meantime, becoming more intoxicated by the song. You’re glad at least for the extra business but can only relax when they all finally decide to leave.

Once the last man exits the door, you head over to the pool tables to tidy up their empty glasses. Outside you hear one of them shouting, “Heeseung! Are you coming?”

“Go on without me. I’ll catch up,” and then the doors to your bar swing open, the attached bell ringing to signal a new customer. He walks in and this time he sidles over to your side. He’s almost dizzyingly tall, and the tens of centimeters he has over you makes you pinch your pants above the left thigh.  

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” he muses, resting his left-hand beside your right hand on the pool table to hold his weight. He’s drunk considerably more than last time, but besides the high flush in his cheeks, you don’t notice a huge difference in his behavior.

You simply shrug, “This place isn’t quite as busy as you might think.”

“You haven’t heard of us, then?” the man takes out his phone and starts to type with quick thumbs. When he turns the screen to face you, you see an article dated a few months ago with his face above the headline: ENHYPEN’s main singer Lee Heeseung rumored to have based Off My Face cover on a real experience with his Soulmate. Click to read more!

You glance it at before returning your gaze to the man you now assume must be Lee Heeseung, “I don’t read tabloids.”

“Aren’t you curious?” he sets his phone down on the green of the table, screen face up like an invitation for you to snoop into his life.

“Not really.”

Heeseung smirks, and you recognize his ugly expression from the last time you saw him. “Liar.” With that, he shoves his phone back in his pocket and leaves the bar, this time for real. His words make you bite your bottom lip. Of course, you’d like to know more about him! From the songs that played, you’d been able to pick out his voice from the short conversation you’d had, and his sharp gaze made your knees wobble. But you had more than enough patience to wait until he wasn’t right in front of you.

Shaking the encounter from your mind, you check your watch. Only thirty minutes from closing. Screw it, you decide and start cleaning up early. You’ve had more than enough for the day.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” The next morning, you rest your phone in-between the crevice of your ear and shoulder while standing in your apartment’s kitchen, using a spatula to scramble the eggs in the pan. “Did you think I’d forget?”

You hear his rich laugh on the other side and imagine the crow’s feet around his eyes which tend to become more prominent as he smiles. “Of course not, my dear. You never forget my birthday.”

“I know it’s a Monday and all, but I made reservations for us to eat dinner together. Your favorite.” The eggs are finished, and you scrape them onto a prepared plate alongside some toasted bread with jam. Despite living alone, you can barely boil water without setting your kitchen aflame. It’s the main reason why the only food offered at Secondhand is peanuts and salty crackers. “I’ll pick you up at 6?”

You hear sounds of ruffling paper on the other end; your father has been a workaholic ever since you met him although he claims he wasn’t always. He’s not told you much about his life before with his soulmate, the woman he says would have been your adoptive mother that you’ll never get to meet. You secretly don’t believe that if she were still alive, you would have ever met your father either, but it doesn’t make anyone any happier to dwell on it, so you keep that thought to yourself. 

“Six works for me,” he eventually rumbles, and you know he’s a bit displeased to be removed from his work without earlier notice. It doesn’t make much sense to you why he feels that way, since his birthday dinner is an annual tradition at this point, but you try to empathize regardless. “Although isn’t the man supposed to pick up the woman?”

“You know I wouldn’t know anything about that, Dad.” His question feels a bit like a test, but you’re at ease knowing that you’ve definitely said the right answer. The expected answer.

“Alright, then I’ll see you tonight dear.” He hangs up without hearing you respond.

“See you.” You start digging into your breakfast and turn on the TV. Your place is closed on Mondays anyway, to give yourself a break from the busier weekends, so you have time to spare. At some point, you pick up your phone and the thought strikes you to look up Heeseung and the rest of his friends.

For some reason, it feels to you like a breach of trust. These are people that you’ve seen in person. They used your establishment as a place to celebrate in private and by looking them up, you’d be invading their privacy. Despite the nosiness that causes your hands to practically vibrate in anticipation, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

To distract yourself, you put on a movie, wasting time until six ‘o’clock arrives.

When it finally does, you’re dressed in nicer clothes than your usual bartending outfit. Your father has always had a more expensive taste. There were many occasions that he forced you to put on the itchy dresses that otherwise collected dust in the back of your closet. Even though you’re an adult now, you know he’d be displeased to see you in anything less than a blouse and ironed pants. The one thing he would be willing to compromise on is the heels.

Instead of driving yourself in a car you don’t own, you hail a cab in the September chill, and pick your father up en route to your destination. It’s no surprise to either of you where you end up, but he still smiles when the place comes into view. “They have the best steak here, you know?”

“Yes, I know.” The reservations are in your name, and you’re taken to a quiet table near the back. There’s a window that allows you to see down the street as people walk past.

“How’s business at Secondhand, my dear?” You engage in painful small talk with your father and eventually direct the conversation to his own work. A waiter comes by in the middle of it and you both order. He orders a wine bottle for himself, and you turn down his offer for a sip.

Despite not seeing each other for some time, the conversation loses its flame fast, and you’re both anxiously awaiting the meals to come as you look around.

And you see Heeseung. Somehow, he’s already noticed you, but you straighten up in your seat anyway. He’s sat at a table with only a few of his friends this time, including the one that requested a song last night. You turn your head away from him in seconds, trying to act like you’re not flustered by his presence (even though you very much are). A minute later you chance a look at him, and he catches you, in fact, his eyes seem to have never left you to begin with. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announce to your father, standing up rather abruptly and tossing the napkin on your chair. You don’t wait for a response. A couple of paces later, however, you do happen to hear a chair scrap against the floor behind you which makes you quicken your footsteps. You round the corner into the hall with both bathrooms, and immediately Heeseung presses your back to the wall, hands pinned above your shoulders.

Instead of a smirk, this time he has a rather stoic expression. In the moment before he speaks, you use the opportunity to take in the rest of him. He’s dressed more casually than you are, but the sweater that drapes around him reveals his sharp collarbones level to your eyes. It feels like everything about Heeseung could cut you as easily as a knife.

“Are you following me?”

You scoff, cutting your eyes over to the side to check if someone’s nearby. “It’s a public restaurant. I came here for a meal, not your autograph.”

“So you did look me up,” his head tilts to the side, scanning your face. “You read the article?”

“No. But you must be some type of famous if you can pull up a tabloid about yourself in five seconds.”

At your response he drops his eyes. You both hear footsteps of harried waiters only meters away. Heeseung finally pulls his hands away and places them in his pocket. “You seriously don’t care about me? Even after what I said that night?”

You bring your thumb and pointer finger up to his forehead and flick him lightly, causing the dark-eyed man to gasp in surprise and meet your eyes once more. “Heeseung, I’d rather hear it from you.”

Author's note: posting this feels like baring my soul.

[syntaxlevelup1]

How Much Time is Required to Learn Full Stack Development? 

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Full stack development involves working on both the front-end and back-end of web applications. A full stack developer is someone who can manage everything from designing responsive user interfaces to managing servers, databases, and APIs.

Front-End Development

This covers the part of the application users interact with, like layouts, buttons, navigation, and overall user experience. You’ll need to master languages and frameworks like:

HTML, CSS, and JavaScript

Front-end frameworks such as React, Angular, or Vue.js

Back-End Development

This focuses on how the application functions behind the scenes, managing data and server-side logic. Important technologies include:

Node.js, Python, Java, or Ruby

Databases such as MySQL, PostgreSQL, or MongoDB

Understanding of APIs and servers

DevOps and Deployment

A full stack developer should also understand DevOps principles for deploying applications smoothly:

Cloud platforms like AWS, Azure, or Google Cloud

Containerization tools like Docker

How Long Does it Take to Learn Full Stack Development?

The time required to become proficient as a full stack developer course in pune can vary based on your background, learning method, and dedication. Here’s a breakdown:

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[solomonish]

The prompt: having a secret signal for parties that means “Let’s go home now”

With Solomon and/or Lucifer! Your choice!

Ficlet Requests!

I got a little carried away so this is like 1.1k BUT......you love it it's fine. Also I would like to take a moment to acknowledge how amazing the implication of Lucifer being a bit introverted in his Color Night devilgram is.....I eat this stuff up like and all you can eat buffet

Having a secret signal that means "Let's go home now." - Lucifer

It wasn't until the night of Diavolo's surprise color party that you realized - Lucifer was surprisingly introverted.

He was a man of duty first and foremost, always standing near the future king with his face set in a practiced, impassive gaze and his posture impeccable yet relaxed. Even as Diavolo ventured into crazier themes, ones where it might suit the both of them for Lucifer to ease up, he remained straight-laced and unmoving. Any time you approached him and tried to urge him to enjoy the party a little more, he only gave you a small smile and insisted he was fine, urging you to enjoy yourself. Sometimes you stayed, sometimes you were dragged away by the others, as they were always hungry for your attention. When he thought you had disappeared into the crowd, Lucifer's smile slipped immediately.

You used to think he was taking on the role of a strict chaperone despite nobody asking him to. But then you realized - Lucifer was a wallflower.

The realization didn't come with a stroke of genius, and for a while you just sat with the information tugging at your brain every time you were at a party. It wasn't until one night, when you had accidentally eaten some Devildom plant that would leave you in bed the next day, that you found yourself with a plan.

Lucifer had been the one to take you back home, though he did protest for a few minutes when Diavolo first suggested it. He was tucking you into bed now, forehead creased as he scolded you for your lapse in caution, his hands gently smoothing the blanket over you saying something else entirely - something sweeter.

Somewhere, behind the worry and exasperation, you could see relief.

"Why don't you tell anyone when you want to leave the party?" You asked, interrupting Lucifer in the middle of him telling you about the bin he set next to your bed. He did falter, but not without giving you an unamused side-eye.

"I don't know what you think you know, but my presence is mandatory."

"Is it?" Before you could give him a chance to get offended at your poor wording, you added, "I mean, you plan things so well that nothing will go wrong, and Barbatos is more than capable of taking care of Diavolo. Plus, you're here now."

Lucifer sighed. "This was an emergency."

"Yeah, and you're in need of some emergency lovin'."

With the slightest breath of a chuckle, he patted you on the head and walked towards the door. "I'll be close by if you need anything, MC." There was finality in his tone, but there was fondness, too. Your stomach was twisting too much to put up a fight. But, as you both knew, there would always be more parties.

The next party of Diavolo's was more outlandish than the color party. The crumbling ruins around you seemed to pulse with an energy they hadn't experienced in millennia, and you hoped there was not some sort of burial ground around the are because you were sure there'd be skeletons rattling in their coffins. Lucifer seemed as displeased with the idea as you thought, his lips drawn into a tight line.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked Diavolo once he was able to get a moment of his time. Diavolo, ever the carefree spirit, only laughed and moved his arms in an approximation of a dance.

"Well, I heard there was something special about throwing a party somewhere secret where there shouldn't be one, so I tried it out!"

"In the ruins of the old mortuary?" Involuntarily, you shivered. Though you weren't entirely sure what significance it held for demons, the brief mention of the place in your Introductory to Devildom History class left little desire to learn more.

"What? Nobody's been near this place for a long time!"

"Yes, I believe that was the idea." Ignoring Lucifer's obvious chagrin, Diavolo instead let somebody else steal his attention and walked away. Once he was out of earshot, Lucifer sighed, deep and tired. Then he flashed that same, fake smile at you. "Don't miss out on your fun on my account."

You knew him too well to believe he was fine, but you also knew he wouldn't admit the truth so easily. So you gave him a scrutinizing look before nodding, circling around the room to check on his brothers while glancing at Lucifer every so often. He alternated between idly chatting and standing with a watchful eye, looking as composed as ever. But you knew better. When you looked over at him again and caught your eye, you noticed raised your eyebrows twice. Clearly, Lucifer wasn't getting the message, so you glanced over in the direction of the exit. Considering you were a building so beyond disrepair it was practically an outdoor venue, you subtly tilted your head for good measure. He didn't nod, but his shoulders relaxed at the hint, so you stopped Mammon mid-sentence, handed him your cup, and made your way over to him. Diavolo had the same idea, because he was headed towards Lucifer, too.

"Ah, I should have known you two lovebirds would find each other again. So, how are you enjoying yourselves?"

Before Lucifer could bitterly say he was fine, you spoke up for him. "Actually, Diavolo, I was hoping I could convince Lucifer to leave with me again."

Diavolo's face fell. "What? Have you fallen ill again?"

Always at the side of his master, Barbatos added, "I am quite certain the food was entirely human safe to avoid the predicament we had last time."

"No, nothing like that. It's just…" You gestured around and smiled. "A party in the crumbling remains of what was probably an arena for human suffering has sapped a lot of my energy."

Quickly, Diavolo apologized for the venue, clearly bashful over having made such an oversight. You assured him it was alright, but then grabbed Lucifer's sleeve and asked for his approval of your departure. Maybe it was the subtle guilt trip you laid, but Diavolo was agreeing and sending you his well wishes.

On the way back home, Lucifer thanked you and reached for your hand. You could still feel the thumping of the music in your chest, a phantom sensation yet still a reminder of how uncomfortable the experience had been.

"You know, if you ever need to leave a party, just give me the signal."

"Oh? Is that our signal?" When you nodded, he tried to tsk in displeasure, yet he made no effort to hide his grin. "I believe the eyebrows are overkill."

"Well, you have to do them or I won't know what you mean."

Instead of rolling his eyes fondly, he brought your hand up to place a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "You know me better than that."

[cursestothemoon]

Werewolves Of London ( I )

Multiple Part Series

Part I

When Their Eyes Locked 

Word Count: 2016

Fred Weasley x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Summary: Fred can’t seem to stop himself from staring at you. What happens when your eyes lock? 

Warnings: raunchy banter, description of turning into a werewolf (description of pain and screaming), being in pain, Y/n has a very prominent scar on her face idk if this is a warning (personally i don’t think it is but you can never be too careful😌)

A/N: Alrighttttt chapter one guys, pretty exciting😗. It’s kinda slow, really just introducing characters, background, and existing relationships. AH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE ITTTT, also best friend Lily makes a comeback (not Lily Evans)

“Come on! We’re gonna miss it!”

“We’re not gonna miss shit, either it happens here or it happens there.”

“I’d prefer the latter.”

Cedric let out a snort as he looked back at you, his scarf flapping in the wind and nearly hitting him in the face.

The wind was harsh this Saturday evening, overcast and gloomy, as three students were making their way to the Whomping Willow. The trek was meant to be a quiet one, a sneaky departure from the castle, but of course that was never the case. Not when Cedric Diggory seemed to ooze happiness and joy with each step, his smile warming the crisp, cool air around him; not when Lily Mclaggen (older sister of Cormac) had just as much snap as her brother had confidence and especially not when Y/n L/n, a sarcastic lycanthrope, was about seven minutes away from being in the midst of the full moon.

A sickeningly loud cracking started to sound from behind Cedric, making him turn to see you doubled over.

“Lily!”

“Calm down!”

You groaned, “I’m fine, let’s just go.”

Lily hooked her arm around your waist, shoving you toward the Whomping Willow that Cedric had fortunately petrified. You were able to just catch the familiar badger disappear into the hole under the tree. The pain was excruciating, making your knees give way and your body hit the ground as you felt what seemed to be your bones breaking, muscles tearing, skin stretching to accommodate the form of a beastly form. Groans and screams were pulled from your throat as you transformed, your hands scratching at your neck- or any exposed skin really- to somehow try and claw the pain away.

One last blood curdling scream turned into a strangled howl at the bright moon.

The werewolf stood up, shaking off the dirt from the ground, before snapping at whatever was nipping at its tail. A bone-chilling laugh sounded in the dim tunnel before the hyena gestured toward the badger to start making their way to the shrieking shack through the dark tunnel- the werewolf followed, it didn’t like being alone for long.

--

“Let’s go Fred, before Filch catches up.” George huffed out, his chest heaving from the vigorous running his lungs had to endure just moments prior.

His twin stood still, faint breaths passing from his lips the only thing being heard, his honey brown eyes taking in the vastness of the dark navy sky before him.

Fred had always loved the moon.

If he thought about it hard enough, George could still feel the harsh swats to his rear from when their mother found them out in the field behind the Burrow after Fred had insisted on sneaking out to look at the moon.

George groaned, “It’s just the moon, it’ll be there tomorrow, the day after that and I’m willing to bet my left ear that the moon will be there everyday after that.”

“Yeah but,” Fred grumbled, dramatically gesturing toward the sky with his hand. “It’s a full moon tonight, won’t be full tomorrow now will it?”

The attitude was clear in his tone, even more so in his raised eyebrows and pointed look. George conceded with a laugh, muttering out an ‘alright, Freddie’.

A piercing howl ripped through the silence making the brothers jump and look toward where it had come from- somewhere down near Hogsmeade they’d guess.

Fred slowly turned to his brother, speaking just barely above a whisper, “You think it was a werewolf?”

He had the same glint of mischief in his eyes that he’d get when he was younger and itching to tell a scary story.

George only shook his head, “In Hogsmeade?” He questioned. “Surely, you’re daft Freddie, what would a werewolf be doing in Hogsmeade?”

A shrug was his only response, before he added, “Wouldn’t be too surprising now would it? We’ve got a pink toad in Hogwarts.”

---

Your steps were slow and calculated as you made your way to the Great Hall. Cedric had his arm around your shoulder, no doubt trying to subtly check and see if the bandages he wrapped had held up when you changed into fresh clothes, and Lily had a habit of walking one or two steps behind you just after a full moon- you had a habit of stumbling or even losing balance completely during the few days following.

“You’re looking a lot better than last time, walking around and not stuck in the hospital wing.” Lily commented quietly.

Cedric nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s rather boring without your company.”

The comment was meant to rile up Lily, which it did beautifully.

“Right git you are, Diggory, you’re the boring one. You prefects, I swear-”

Lily continued on to grumble about all prefects being the same as you three made it through the doors and to your usual seats- the farthest table to the right, near the large window, and in between a few Hufflepuffs and a couple scattered Gryffindors.

Heat seemed to trail up your shoulder and to your face, the feeling of eyes on you had you inwardly wincing. You never felt too confident the morning after a full moon and it was most mornings that you could feel the heated weight of Fred Weasley’s eyes on you. Amazingly enough, you resisted the urge to turn and meet his gaze instead opting for taking a seat on the bench in between Cedric and Lily and placing your head on Lily’s shoulder lethargically.

On the other side of the room, Lee was slowly chewing on his bite of sugary cereal as he studied the eldest twin.

“You know, mate, you could just talk to her.” He offered up, making Fred rapidly blink as he was brought back to reality.

He frowned, “We’ve been in the same house for seven years, if she wanted to talk to me… she would’ve.”

His eyes seemed to naturally shift back to your form. You were half asleep, head resting on your friend’s shoulder as prettyboy Diggory couldn’t seem to wipe the bright smile off his face so early in the morning.

Fred had always noticed you. In your first year you had offered him your seat in potions next to George because it ‘didn’t feel right’ splitting him and George up on the first day of school- or so you had said before you went to sit next to another first year, Lily.

Second year was when he started to really pay attention to the rather heartwarming- or so Angelina had called it- closeness of your relationship with Lily. You were a sickly child, it seemed almost every month you had come down with something. Fred could remember seeing little twelve year old you sitting near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, head on Lily’s shoulder just as it was now and your face incredibly pale yet a warm smile still gracing your lips.

It was the third year when Fred started to realize his curious looks and sweaty palms were not something that just happened. He liked you. The quiet remarks you made under your breath and comedically uncontrollable reactions had him swooning. Third year was also the year that the infamous duo of Y/n and Lily had turned into a trio, prettyboy Diggory finding a cozy spot attached to your hip. It seemed everywhere you went, Cedric was there too.

It was during third year Fred learned about jealousy.

“How do you suppose she got her scar?” Lee asked in a hushed voice not wanting to be overheard.

Fred thought back to when he had first seen you with the gash trailing down from the arch of your left eyebrow to the apple of your right cheek, passing over the bridge of your nose. Sure he had seen you roughed up before, mundane bruises and scratches he imagines you received from being clumsy or maybe roughhousing with siblings he didn’t know you had (Merlin knows Fred himself had enough marks from his brothers roughing him up, all in good fun of course). This was different- violent, it seemed- nothing friendly could’ve made such an angry infliction.

“Does it matter?” Fred mumbled rather defensively. “She’s still...angelic.” He muttered with little regard as to what he was actually saying- his attention was stolen by the grimace that darkened your face as you shifted in your seat to reach for a box of chocolatey cereal.

George faked a dramatic gag, “Sods been a right sap for that girl for years now, still hasn't done a single thing.”

“Give him time,” Lee laughed, moving to shove Fred’s arm teasingly. “Fred’ll man up eventually.”

The seemingly lovestruck boy rolled his eyes at the two, “Fuck off, both of you wankers.”

--

The full moon and weekend had come and gone, the bitter taste of the start of a new school week was on everyone’s tongue as they made their way to their last class Monday afternoon.

You trudged into the dimly lit potions room, the brooding figure of Severus Snape doing nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

“Afternoon, Professor.” You quietly greeted as you slid into your seat.

The man seemed to only grumble out a response, not deeming a proper return of greeting worthy of his time- though you preferred this, rather not wanting to strike up a conversation with the potions Professor.

Lily clambered into the seat beside you, her usual seat, just a few seconds before class started. Her hair was frazzled and her tie a tad askew, silently you handed her a compact mirror from your book bag- though the smirk on your lips was loud.

“Don’t look so smug.” She teased, hand combing down her hair. “You’ve seen the thighs on Natasha Ravenforth, was I just supposed to deny myself the pleasure?”

Her tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and questioning almost as if she really couldn’t fathom the thought of not snogging the curvy Hufflepuff just before class. You kept silent, though your smile grew as you felt Lily’s eyes trained on you before she huffed and looked toward Professor Snape who was now beginning his lesson.

The class seemed to drone on, a long lecture from the monotone Severus Snape the only thing filling the agenda had the pace of the lesson slowed to an aching crawl. As your ears started to tune out his painful drawl you noticed it. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch or a twitch you just couldn’t shake, you could feel someone’s eyes on you. You turned to meet the person’s gaze, curiosity indeed killed the cat, and you were met with the honey-brown irises of none other than Fred Weasley. He seemed to be looking at you, or just passed you, with his chin resting on his folded forearms. His lack of reaction to you catching him staring led you to believe he was far too zoned out to know what he was doing, that is until he blinked a few times and his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

You didn’t really know him. Fred Weasley seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once, he was elusive and loud and if you weren’t careful you’d definitely find yourself falling for his toothy grin or boyish charm.

Your eyes seem to lock and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the feeling fluttering deep within your chest at the way his facial expression seemed to soften and his head tilt ever so gently as his eyes swam with what you could only describe as- for lack of better words- wonder.

A nudge to your ribs brought you back to reality, Lily’s elbow still prodding at your torso until you turned to face the front of the class again just as Professor Snape was turning away from the board he had stuck his nose to whilst writing notes.

With one glance at Lily you could see the irritatingly smug smirk stretching across her face, her eyes still looking forward.

“Don’t look so smug.” You grumbled, roughly picking up your quill to take down notes.

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

[pan-fangirl-345]

You Have A Visitor!

Summary: Denki needs a boost. Luckily, there’s a visitors day coming up and you, being the loving girlfriend that you are, decide this is a good time to catch up with your boyfriend.

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, because Bakugou, some suggestive thought, and the reader had divorced parents and an alcoholic father, not to mention some low self-esteem. If there’s anything I missed, please tell me!

A/N: I have no idea what the hell made me write this but whatever, I have nothing else better to be doing like the chorus assignment that was due a week ago, and the outline for a paper, and then the actual paper. Oops.

Also, I realized quite belatedly, that I never told you guys that (Y/N) means your full name, both first and last. Sorry about that!

“Hey baby girl,” Denki said, sounding tired.

“Hey, are you okay?” you inquired, flopping onto your bed.

“Yeah, I just got my grades back and I can’t say they’re great. I even studied this time!”

“I’m sure they’re fine, Denki,” you assured him, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted. “It’s been so hard being away from you for this long. And I don’t mean to be clingy, but I could really use a hug from you.”

You could hear it in his voice, he was having a bad day. He was normally very peppy and chipper, but there were days when he just couldn’t muster the energy for it.

“I know Sparky,” you said. “I miss you too. Where’s Kirishima? Can’t he give you a hug?”

“Nah, he’s in the gym with the steel guy from Class B.”

“I was almost 100% sure you were going to say he was with the explosion guy, Bakugou,” you said smiling.

“Can . . . can I FaceTime you?” he inquired softly.

“Of course Denks, I’m honestly a little surprised it took you this long to ask me,” you teased, trying to bring a smile to his face.

“Well, I know how you feel about being on camera.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when I’m talking to you,” you told him.

When he called you again, you answered, smiling at him.

“Hey Denki,” you said.

He looked tired, there were bags under his eyes, and he was flopped against his bed, body riddled with tension.

“Hey love,” he said, giving you a tired smile. “It’s so good to see your adorable face.”

“Right back at you Sparky,” you retorted, smiling at him. “I really wish I was there with you. Maybe I could help.”

“This is helping,” he told you. “Just being able to talk to you.”

“Bad day?”

He nodded, sighing. “I’m sore, I’m tired, I feel like an idiot, and I miss you on top of everything else.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could see you. When’s the next visitors’ day?” you inquired, moving to look at your calendar.

“Like, two weeks from now, on Saturday. Why?”

“I’m gonna come visit you silly,” you teased, smiling at him. “I have to work that Saturday, but it’s only until noon. I’ll come see you after that, yeah?”

“Seriously? You’re gonna come see me?” he asked, sitting up. Little lines of electricity started to run up his body and you laughed.

“Yeah, course I am Sparky,” you said.

“I can’t wait to see you! And introduce you to my friends! And-”

The lights flickered in his room for a few moments before they turned back on.

“Kaminari!” someone shouted in the distance and he flushed.

“Sorry!” he shouted, making you laugh.

“Did you just short circuit the lights in your dorms?” you questioned.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, cheeks bright red.

“It’s okay, it let’s me know that you really are excited to see me,” you told him. “I know that there are a lot of other girls there that are probably prettier than I am.”

“Angel, listen to me,” Denki demanded, making you pause. It was very rare that he ever sounded that serious. “You are beautiful, inside and out, and I would rather spend an hour with you than a hundred years with them, understand?”

“You’re such a sap,” you muttered, suddenly remembering why you loved him so much. “I love you Denks.”

“I love you too, (Y/F/N), don’t ever forget that,” he said, face as serious as you had ever seen it.

“I won’t. Don’t forget that I love you either, alright?”

“I think I can handle that,” he said, flashing you that one million watt smile that you loved to see.

“Good,” you retorted, smiling back at him.

Someone shouted in the background again and Denki sighed.

“I have to go, it’s time for dinner, but I’ll call you again tomorrow night, okay?”

“Okay, I love you Denki Kaminari,” you told him.

“I love you too (Y/N).”

You smiled at him again before you hung up, sighing.

You missed Denki, you really did. It was hard sometimes, dating Denki long distance, even if he was still in the country. He was only about fifteen minutes away, but the security was so tight that it was hard for you to go see him, especially since you worked part time at the local library.

You were proud of him, and you wouldn’t trade him for all the money in the world, but you missed him.

Him and his dumb pickup lines, him and those dumb cat memes he used to send you, him and those awesome hugs whenever you had a bad day.

You had hated Denki when you had first met in middle school. You thought he was immature, way too loud, and you hated how little he paid attention in class.

But then you got paired up for a project and you learned that sometimes Denki didn’t realize he was being loud, or that his quirk was making things go haywire.

Denki had a lot of friends, he made them wherever he went, he was like that, but a lot of the time they were fake. 

You had learned how to help him remember things from class, you were there when he started to get a little too loud, and you were there when he was rejected for the first time.

You remembered tapping his arm whenever his noise level was becoming too much, or kicking him when he was unintentionally making someone uncomfortable, stepping in when someone tried to get him to do something that would get him in trouble.

He had asked you out through your third year of middle school. At first you had thought it was a prank, a dare maybe, but he had been adamant that he really wanted to be with you.

It had been weird at first, neither of you really knowing how this changed things, until you realized that nothing had to change. You could still do what you normally did together, but there was more hand holding and cheesy compliments involved.

He had gotten accepted into U.A., and you had been happy for him, but you would be going to different high schools, and when everything had started to get more dangerous there, you had panicked about Denki. You didn’t get to see him as often, and he had even tried to break up with you, worried about your safety.

But you had worked it out, you had talked about it, you called each other regularly and you sent each other small gifts every now and then when missing each other became almost unbearable.

There were small amounts of time when you worried more than usual, when they had training camps and weren’t allowed to have their phones, or when they had exams and you weren’t there to make sure that he was eating and getting enough sleep, but other than that, your relationship with him was relatively easy, everything considered.

The next two weeks were slow, but talking with Denki ever night made it better than you would’ve thought.

He assured you that his new friends would love you, though you were suspicious about Bakugou, that he wanted you to meet Eri, that everything was going to be fine, and that he couldn’t wait to hug you again.

“C’mon sweetheart, it’ll be fine! The only one you might have to worry about it Mineta, and I can promise that he won’t get anywhere near you,” Denki said, laughing.

“Why hasn’t the school kicked him out yet?” you inquired, nose wrinkled.

“That’s a good question,” Denki admitted. “I guess he just hasn’t done it in front of the teachers enough.”

“I would’ve killed him by now, I feel so bad for the girls that have to deal with him,” you said, shuddering.

“I know you would’ve,” he said, smiling. “But seriously, how was your day?”

“The same as usual, except there was this really cute little girl in the library today who tried climbing the shelves to get to a book she wanted. She was so cute! She got really high up though and I was terrified that she was going to hurt herself.”

He listened to you talk about your day, smiling as you talked.

“I’m really excited to see you tomorrow,” he said when you were done.

“I know, I’m excited too. I can’t wait to see you.”

‘I’ve missed you,” he said, getting a sad look on his face.

“Hey, no sadness remember?” you told him. You wanted so badly to reach out to him, to hold him, to run your hands through his hair while he held you. “I’ve missed you too, but we’re gonna see each other tomorrow. And I promise that I’ll give you as many cuddles as you want.”

“If that’s the case you wouldn’t be leaving the couch,” he said, smiling at you. “If you thought I was clingy before it’s only going to be worse tomorrow.”

“Trust me, if you weren’t clingy, I would be,” you assured him, making him laugh.

“You do realize that no one is going to understand how we’re in a relationship right?”

“Fuck ‘em,” you said. “It’s not really any of their business anyway. It’s a healthy relationship.”

“That’s my girl,” Denki said, smirking.

“You’re gonna be a smug bastard tomorrow aren’t you?” you inquired, making him cackle.

“You had no idea. Most of the squad doesn’t think you exist,” he said. “And when I say that, I mean that only Mina believes me because she walked in on my talking to you one night.”

“We’ll change their opinions tomorrow,” you promised, biting your lip. “I’m really excited to see you tomorrow Denki. It’s been too long.”

“I know! Don’t remind me,” he whined, making you chuckle.

“Do you want me to bring anything with me tomorrow?”

“Just your sparkling personality and enough hugs to hold me over until the time you can visit. And maybe some cupcakes or something, I’m craving sugar,” he muttered, the last part more to himself than to you.

Someone shouted in the background, and Denki sighed. “I have to go, but I love you, and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“I love you Denki, sleep well,” you told him.

“You too,” he said, ending the call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Denki couldn’t stop pacing as people streamed into the dorms, trying to find the people they were there to visit. It was only nine, and he was already anxious to see her again.

He kept checking for her (Y/H/C) hair among the sea of people, even though he knew she wouldn’t be there yet.

He had already told his classmates that she was coming to see him today, most of them playing it off as a ploy for attention and sympathy. Both of his parents were working today, so they weren’t coming to see him, and his little sister had had a sleepover the night before and was probably sleeping it off at home with their cat.

(Y/F/N) had texted him that morning and he had been glued to his phone ever since smiling whenever she sent him a funny picture or a reminder of how much she loved him.

Mina had been waiting for months to meet his girlfriend, and while the others didn’t believe she existed, he was going to be proud to show her off.

He wasn’t anxious about seeing her again, he was looking forward to that, but what if she didn’t like his friends? What if they didn’t like her? What if-?

“Denki!”

His head whipped up at the sound of her voice, and he zeroed in on her.

Was he hallucinating? He was hallucinating, right? There was no way she was there-

She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over.

He definitely wasn’t hallucinating.

“Denki,” she breathed, burying her face in his neck as she twisted her fingers into the back of his t-shirt.

“(Y/F/N), I thought you weren’t coming until noon,” he said, clinging to her.

“I haven’t seen you in like, three months, and that’s all you have to say to me?” she inquired, flashing him that smile that he loved so much as she pulled back a little, just enough to see his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her.

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t hallucinating.

It had been so long since he had touched her, it felt like he had stuck his hand in a fire. She was warm against him and they couldn’t stop smiling at each other between kisses.

“I missed you,” she whispered, burying her hands in his hair.

He slid one hand up her back, touching her face lovingly with the other as they stared at each other, (Y/E/C) eyes meeting amber.

“I missed you too, sweet pea,” he assured her, kissing her again.

“WHAT THE FUCK? FUCKING PIKACHU ACTUALLY HAS A GIRLFRIEND?”

“Shut up Blasty!” Mina hissed, swatting him with her hands.

(Y/F/N) pulled away, cheeks tinged pink as the Bakusquad stared at them.

“You must be Bakugou,” she said, smiling at him. “And, for the record, I’m not a girlfriend, I’m the girlfriend.”

“I told you guys she was real!” Mina shouted, making you laugh.

“It’s nice to meet you all, I’m (Y/N), I’m also Denki’s girlfriend.”

“Clearly,” Sero said, making her chuckle.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Mina said, throwing her arms around (Y/F/N), catching her by surprise, though she hugged back after a moment.

“You must be Mina. It’s so nice to meet you too. I’ve hear so much about all of you.”

“Pikachu, you have some fucking explaining to do,” Bakugou snapped.

“Gladly,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I never would’ve thought you would have the patience to deal with someone like Kami, (Y/L/N),” Kirishima said.

“What can I say? Apparently I have a soft spot for dumbasses,” you said, making Denki protest.

“I can’t be that bad,” he muttered into your neck.

He hadn’t let go of you since you had arrived, there was an arm around your shoulders or your waist, a hand in yours or on your back, and now he had you seated in his lap, his arms around your waist as he fiddled with your fingers.

“How did you even get here this early? I thought you said you weren’t coming until noon.”

“I told my boss that I was going to see you today and he let me out early so that I could spend more time with you. I don’t know how you got him to like you so much, he hates everyone.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Denki pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s because I actually do my job correctly and because I have more invested in that library than the founder does!” you told him.

“(Y/F/N) really likes to read,” Denki admitted. “It’s one of the reasons she’s so smart.”

“I’m an only child with parents who both had to work a lot before they divorced, I had to find ways to entertain myself when they weren’t home and when they were too busy screaming at each other to pay attention to me,” you muttered.

Denki’s arms tightened around you subconsciously.

He had met both of your parents, and hadn’t taken well to your father, who had a tendency to love alcohol more than he loved you. It had made you a lot harder on yourself than you had to be, and your father had hated Denki from the moment they had met.

He thought your mother was a saint though, and she was for putting up with your father for so long.

“Yikes, that sounds rough,” Sero said.

You shrugged. “When you grow up like I did, it makes you used to certain things. I got used to someone always putting me down. I got used to having to do a lot of things myself. I mean, it sucked, and there was a time when I had a bag packed in my closet, but it made me who I am.”

“You never told me about the bag thing darling,” Denki said, frowning.

“I mean, I was . . . eight or nine I think, long before we were ever even friends,” you told him. You kissed his cheek lightly. “Besides, I never had to use it.”

“I don’t think that’s the point,” Mina chimed in.

You shrugged, then said, “Oh yeah, my mother says hi baby. She would’ve come with me, but she had to work. Speaking of parents, where are yours?”

“Mom and Dad had to work today,” he explained, nuzzling your neck softly.

“Right, they told me that earlier,” you muttered.

“You talk to his parents?” Kirishima asked.

“Well, yeah. I mean, we’ve known each other since middle school. I used to go over to his house all the time. I used to babysit his sister with him. They’ve known me for a while, us dating just helped my relationship with them. Besides, whenever your school gets attacked, I always go over there. Makes me feel like I’m doing something useful.”

“I still can’t believe fucking Pikachu has a girlfriend,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Jealous?” you asked, wrinkling your nose. “Maybe if you acted less like you had rabies girls wouldn’t be so afraid to talk to you.”

“What did you just say to me?” he asked, palms crackling.

“You heard me,” you said, interlacing one of your hands with Denki’s.

“Do you wanna fucking go?” he snarled, standing up.

“Not particularly, I was just giving a suggestion. Do with it what you will,” you told him, melting back into Denki, who sighed contently.

“This is the calmest I’ve ever seen him,” Sero said, staring at Denki in wonder.

“I have that affect on him apparently,” you confessed, running your free hand through his hair. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

Denki shook his head. “Too many loud thoughts. Feel bad waking you up to deal with it.”

“Baby, that’s what I’m here for, besides, I’m up a lot of the time anyway,” you chided. “Call me, alright? It puts me to sleep too you know.”

“Mmhmm,” Denki mumbled, kissing your shoulder lightly.

“Cute,” you murmured, kissing his forehead. “You can go take a nap you know.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Denki said.

“C’mon baby, up we go,” you whispered, pulling away from him, hauling him up off the couch. “When was the last time you slept through the whole night?”

“Two weeks ago,” he admitted.

“Denki!”

“‘M sorry,” he whispered.

“Come on, you’re taking a nap, even if I have to-” You stopped what you had been about to say.

Tying him to the bed sounded sexual, and so did sleeping with him. Sitting on him just sounded bad.

“Come on Denki,” you told him. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Wanna stay with you,” he repeated.

“I’ll stay with you, alright? Just please, get some sleep,” you said. “Where’s your room?”

He stumbled his way through the halls, leading you to his room where he flopped onto his bed.

“It’s so you,” you told him, looking around.

He made grabby hands for you and you chuckled, climbing under his covers with him.

“Missed you a lot,” he muttered.

“I missed you too,” you told him, burying your hands in his hair as he wrapped his arms around you.

He relaxed again, and you kissed his forehead as he fell asleep, rubbing your hands against his back.

“Love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too Denks,” you murmured, letting your own eyes shut as you listened to his breathing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are they still in there?” Sero asked as they made their way to Denki’s room.

“She didn’t leave,” Mina said.

“What the fuck are they doing in there?” Bakugou asked.

“I don’t hear anything,” Kirishima said. “This is really unmanly guys.”

“Open the door,” Mina pushed.

“Guys, no!” Kirishima hissed, but Bakugou had already opened the door.

“Aww,” Sero, Kirishima, and Mina muttered, seeing the two of them tangled together under the covers.

Denki’s arms were tight around her waist as they laid there together, her head tucked under his chin, like he was protecting her.

They all remembered the fierce way she carried herself, the way she would’ve defended him against anyone, even himself.

“They’re gonna get married one day,” Sero said, voicing what everyone was thinking.

“He deserves it,” Bakugou murmured, surprising everyone.

“Come on, let’s leave them be,” Kirishima muttered, closing the door soflty.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 11: Intruloceit (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

The sequel y’all were waiting for! (@hoppe-ideas)

Day 11: ‘Choose your own adventure’ day! I chose to continue from Day 9, since I couldn’t very well leave it there.

Content warning: allusions to abuse, Remus being Remus (need I elaborate?), implied past panic attack, mention of bipolar disorder, and of course, Janus’ crippling insecurities. Angst with a happy ending. 

Word count: 4k

*READ DAY 9 FIRST*

Blue: What time are you available?

Green: What is this, a doctor’s office? I’m free after lunch 

Blue: I was merely tr

Green: I know, I know. I’m just teasing you. It’s endearing, my little mocking-nerd. Bring your textbook, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. It’s octopus learning time!

Blue: I will never understand you.

Green: Good 

He drew a crude rendering of the devil emoji, then a heart, and the conversation ended as quickly as it began.

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

Green: What would happen if you injected coca cola into your bloodstream

Blue: No.

Green: It’s just a question!

Blue: I’m assuming you would die.

Green: Damn. Can we try anyways?

Blue: No!

Green: C’mon, for science?

Blue: NO! Why did this question even arise?!

Janus hid a small chuckle, before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. Even if the writing was as much on his arm as it was theirs, it still felt wrong to read it. Felt wrong to admit that he was starting to enjoy their shenanigans.

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

Green: Hey

Blue: Hello, my dear. What is so important that you couldn’t text me?

Green: my mom broke my phone and I’m having an attack

Janus sat straight up, his calligraphy pen clattering to the floor, effectively ruining the large swooping letters he was working on with a splattered gold streak. This was the first message the two had shared that wasn’t either Blue’s notes about homework or Green’s odd creative ideas, or cheesy conversations between the two that Janus tended not to read. It felt like intruding on someone’s life. He hadn’t learned their names yet, and while they always stuck to the same color scheme, he knew at this point he’d be able to distinguish their handwriting with no hesitation. It was his version of hearing their voices, and he’d started growing attached to them. He turned his full attention to the conversation on the back of his arm, feeling a surge of worry.

Blue: I’m on my way, be at the curb in ten minutes?

Green: thanks

Blue: Remember those breathing exercises. Try to stay calm. 

Green: please hurry

Blue: I’m driving as fast as I can, love.

The messages ended there, and Janus didn’t sleep that night.

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

Blue: Happy birthday, Remus. I hope you have an amazing day.

Remus: Are we still good to go for tonight? 

Blue: Of course. I had Roman and Patton help plan most of the date, so I hope you enjoy it.

Remus: Logan, if it’s with you, I will~ 

Logan: You’re a sap.

Remus: And you love it

Logan: Guilty.

Never had Janus felt so alone. It was one thing to have anonymous messages scribbled on your arm, little doodles and good luck wishes, but to know their names? That brought on a whole new round of tears that he hated himself for. Remus and Logan. The names of his so-called soulmates, the labels he could finally put to the personalities. As much as he hated to admit it, waking up had become a whole lot easier since they’d started appearing on his skin. It was something little to look forward to.

It also hurt, just a little bit more. Before he was eighteen, he’d been able to imagine his situation like his parent’s, with a soulmate who would end up hating and hurting him, and it was easy to decide to never communicate when the time arrived. And even if they seemed like genuinely good people, every time he lifted a pen to respond, to announce his presence, he stopped himself, as his father’s words rang through his head.

Why would anyone want you, Janus?

You’re a mistake, and they’ll see that instantly.

Honestly, what good do you even have to offer a soulmate?

He didn’t want them to be true, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever told him differently. His mother avoided his eyes and was silent, his peers treated him like a disease, so those words were the ones he started to believe. So he capped the pen, pulled his sleeve down, and ignored the small feather light tickles as they spread across his arms. 

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

Of course, it wasn’t avoidable forever. 

It was writing on skin, did he think that was something he would never do accidentally? Was he really that stupid? They were going to be so pissed when they found out how long he’d been snooping on their conversations. They’d hate him. They’d never be open to the idea that he was somehow meant to be in their lives. He was done. He was such an idiot.

These were the thoughts raging through his mind as he looked down over himself in shock, spilled amber ink shimmering on his skin. It was an accident; an opening of an ink pod combined with over enthusiastic dancing to the Chicago soundtrack, leading to a faltering concentration and skin covered in staining gold. He’d been sitting cross legged on his chair when the cartridge exploded, and he’d bounded to his bathroom to try and wash it off, but it had only been partially successful. There was no doubt in his mind that they would see it. It had covered a good majority of today’s messages on his arms, smeared across his shins from hurriedly trying to wipe it away, and speckled across his face like the world’s most unfortunate freckles. 

He dropped back into his chair, his music now turned off, and laid his head on the cool wood of his desk. The ticking on his clock was the only sound in the room and he counted each one, mentally marking the minutes as they passed by. Waiting. Five minutes of silent fear had passed before a new anxiety began to rise in him. What if they were his soulmates, but he wasn’t theirs? He’d heard of it happening, ever so rarely, that soulmarks weren’t reciprocated. If that was true for him, and he was starting to become sure it was, they wouldn’t see the ink. They never would. He would be forced to live the rest of his life on the outside, reading their life on his skin but never able to take part. Somehow that seemed a lot worse now that it wasn’t his choice.

Just as he was starting to spiral, a familiar tickle on his arm snapped him back to the present. His head jerked up, hair falling into his heterochromatic eyes as he followed the dark blue script, starting just under the largest golden spill.

Hello? 

And how should he respond to that? He couldn’t think of a fun one liner, a sassy quip, to introduce himself. For the first time in his life, lying wasn’t an option, and he hated that. He grabbed the first pen he could grab, a black ballpoint, with shaking fingers.

Hi. Well, that was lame. 

You’re our soulmate. It was less of a question, more of a statement. Janus took a deep breath, bringing the pen down again.

Yes. 

I’m sorry. What he was apologizing for, he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But it felt right. Apologizing was simply second nature to him.

Whatever for?

He didn’t know how to answer that time, so he did what he always did best, and watched. Waited again, hoping that Blue (Logan, he remembered vaguely), would just drop the subject. This was the most conversation he’d had with someone in a while. 

My name’s Remus. The other dork is Logan. 

The green ink appeared under the blue, and Janus’ heart dropped painfully in his chest. As if he didn’t already know their names. It’s not as if he could say that, though. 

You seem kinda shy. It’s cute 

Let them speak, Remus. 

Both of them went silent, offering time to allow Janus to write. But he didn’t know what to say, how to explain… 

So he didn’t. He yanked down the sleeves of his pajama top, pulling the edges over his hands to hide the now dried golden  ink, and collapsed onto his bed, dooming himself to another night of restless sleep. 

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

If Janus had the choice, he wouldn’t have gone to school the next day. He would have laid curled up under his blanket, struggling to tune out the sound of his parents arguing, letting the world pass him by like an old camera reel. Janus didn’t have the choice though, not when he remembered it was nearing the end of the year and exam season was drawing closer, and then the bickering downstairs became motivation. Good grades would equal an out-of-state college, which would mean getting away from thrown dishes and slamming doors. 

Even so, that didn’t mean that Janus didn’t regret the entire day of school. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when the lunch bell rang and the students shuffled out of the class in a lump, leaving just him and Mr. Sanders behind, as per usual. Just as he reached down to pull his lunch out of his bag (just a handful of cold scrambled eggs he had set aside from his already meager breakfast), the teacher spoke.

“I actually have a meeting today, Jay. You’re gonna have to find a different place to have lunch.”

“What?” Janus recoiled as he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He hadn’t meant to talk back, half expecting a lecture, and was surprised when the teacher’s expression morphed into one of sympathy.

“Sorry, bud. It’s a staff meeting, and I couldn’t find a TA to watch the room over the break. It’s only for today. Cafeteria is open though, I’m sure you can find an empty table there. Or better yet,” He smiled softly, lifting his laptop bag onto his shoulder, “Sit with someone. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Janus picked up his bag as well, rushing from the room without a second glance. He didn’t feel like explaining that the reason he sat alone wasn’t his choice, and he couldn’t help it. He was just tired of being pushed away, so why not make the first move himself. 

The path to the cafeteria was hardly trodden by him, and he tried to take in the pictures of past grad classes on the wall for as long as possible before his time was up. The security guard marching the halls gave him a pointed look, reminding him that he couldn’t stay in the hallways during lunch, so he hunched his shoulders and walked into the lunch room. He cursed the weather under his breath for being so damn hot today; he would melt in his hoodie and gloves to cover the ink. Luckily the splatters on his face blended in enough with the skin tone to be unnoticeable. 

The first thing he noticed is that it was loud. People shouted, trays clattered, and Janus wanted nothing more than to curl up in his hoodie. Social interaction. Gross. The second was that Mr. Sanders had been right, there was a line of empty tables at the back that people seemed to avoid in favor of grouping together in the center. The third and final thing was the overwhelming sense of loneliness that flooded Janus as soon as he walked in. Sitting alone in an empty room was one thing, choosing to sit alone in a crowded room was another. 

For a split second, the teacher’s words ran through his mind, and he wondered briefly if he should join a group, only for his anxiety to immediately shut the idea down with a shriek of are you crazy?!

He chose the closest table to the door that was untouched and sat hesitantly, appetite lost. All he had to do was get through an hour of this, he thought painfully. If he paid close enough attention, he could tune into other people’s conversations, and if he closed his eyes and drifted far enough, he might actually imagine that he was a part of them. 

“Hi!”

Janus’ eyes shot open and he shrunk back as if he’d been slapped. Standing in front of him was a guy he recognized from his math class, bouncing on his heels enough to make his blonde curls fall into his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear, gleaming teeth matching the white collar that stood out from under his blue sweater. 

“Do you want to sit with us?”

His critical glare didn’t deter the overly joyful guy as he gestured over Janus’ shoulder, encouraging him to look. He did, albeit reluctantly. Four people were sitting at the table behind him, three caught up in a spirited conversation. The last one was staring back at him owlishly through thick square glasses, and surprisingly, Janus wasn’t unsettled by the look. 

“Come sit with us!” The happy guy said again, looking like he was refraining himself from just grabbing Janus and pulling him over. His round glasses had started edging down his nose as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Please?” He drew out the word for several seconds. Janus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, nodding mutely and gathering his backpack. His anxiety started again, pelting him with ‘they’re going to hate you’s and ‘this changes nothing’s, but he pushed them down resolutely. It was just the one meal. Tomorrow would be back to normal, eating lunch by himself in Mr. Sanders’ room. And he really couldn’t say no to that hopeful face. 

“Yay! Okay,” He led Janus to the table, dropping into one of the two empty seats and pointing to the one next to him. He took a deep breath before gushing on, “Sit! Okay, okay, okay, so I’m Patton, purple-hair is Virgil but they hate the name so you can just call them V. We all call them V. That’s Logan, and the twins are Roman and Remus. Remus has the white streak, but it’s actually really easy to tell them apart once you get to know them.”

Janus’ blood froze in the middle of Patton’s gleeful rant. Those names… those were all the names that kept popping up over the five months of secret soulmate snooping. That wasn’t a coincidence, right? Most of those names weren’t exactly common.

His eyes shifted to the two Patton had introduced as Remus and Logan, sitting shoulder to shoulder across from him. Remus had halted whatever he was talking so animatedly about in favor of greeting the newcomer, but Janus couldn’t get himself to wave back. Instead he dropped his gaze to their loosely intertwined hands on the table, feeling somewhat lightheaded at the identical golden stains covering both of them. 

So... he ran. He wasn’t proud of it, and he was somewhat certain that he’d made a scene, but he couldn’t do it. His own self doubt was crippling, all his fears rushing him full forced and reminding him just how little he mattered, how messed up his life had made him, how he would only ruin any possible relationship. This was all too real now. They fit so well to the picture he had unintentionally made of them in his mind; navy blue button up tops and slicked back hair, green bomber jackets and mussed up shoulder length curls. Eyes that glinted with barely concealed mirth, a dimpled grin revealing almost razor sharp canines. Two polar opposites, so perfectly built for each other, soulmates. He would just come along and ruin it. 

Screw the sun, he thought, as he sat on the scalding hot bleachers by the football field. To his extreme annoyance, tears had started drifting down his cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped them away from sheer habit. His dad didn’t like tears almost as much as he didn’t like Janus. It wasn’t like they would know it was him, right? All they knew was a stranger had been invited to their table and had booked it before they even got his name. So he could stay a mystery, a fly on the wall, for the rest of his days.

The all too familiar feeling on his arm was more of a curse now than it ever had been. Resigned to his fate, he rolled the sleeve up to read whatever the two were no doubt talking about. 

Hi. 

He looked around frantically despite his better judgment, his eyes landing on a figure standing at the end of the bench, uncapped pen in one hand and one blue sleeve rolled up. Logan regarded him with a careful look, locked in a staring contest that neither wanted to look away from. The other broke first, turning his focus to his steps across the rickety surface as he approached Janus. He took a seat, mumbling something about how hot it was, before scribbling something else onto his arm and capping the pen. Janus tried to fight the urge to look down at his own still-bare arm, but he couldn’t resist a quick peak.

I found him. Bleachers in the north field.

“Why don’t you take off the gloves, at least. It’s almost ninety degrees out.”

Welp. Apparently this was happening. “How did you know?” He whispered, not touching his gloves.

“Remus and I both felt naturally drawn to you as soon as you walked into the cafeteria. We could not and still can not explain it. When Patton followed our gaze, he was more than eager to invite you over. Not that he needed the prompting, I am certain he would have invited you over regardless of Remus’ and my feelings the moment you sat alone,” Logan stopped briefly, taking note of the new green smiley face under his last message, “Your reaction to our names and hands in rapid succession was enough to solidify our previous suspicions. That-” He pointed to the shared messages on their skin, “-was the final proof I needed.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Janus at a complete loss for words, until a loud clang to their right grabbed both of their attentions. Remus was clinging to the railing like a vine, having climbed all the way from the bottom, he realized with a start. The older man crawled over the top and landed solidly, rattling the seats, before bouncing over to them.

“Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi!” He plopped onto the bench in front of Janus, sitting backwards to face them. Consequently, he was slightly lower than the other two, and could see Janus’ usually ducked face for the first time. “Oooh, I like your birthmark! Is it a birthmark? Or a burn? Either way, I don’t care. I like it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Janus snarked before he could stop himself, his self protective tendency rising to the surface. Remus only giggled in response, manspreading a tad more and leaning forward on his elbows. 

“I like him, Logan. He’s feisty.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval.” He was on guard now, he couldn’t help it.

“Remus, stop pestering him. He just met us.”

Remus grumbled under his breath but held his tongue. Logan could silence him, he’d have to remember that for the future. If they had a future. He couldn’t help the sliver of hope since they had actually come to find him… but maybe it was to let him down easy. No clue.

“When did you turn eighteen?” The question shouldn’t have shocked him the way it did; it was a valid thought.

“Five months ago.”

And he waited, expecting the worst at the sharp intakes of breath from both of them. Expected them to stand up and leave. Expected them to call him a creep. Expected them to… anything, really. 

Well, anything except take his hands. Which they both did.

It was like they could speak telepathically, the way they seemed to be so in sync. Maybe that was a soulmate thing. Remus reached forward and weaved their fingers together at the same time that Logan placed his hand over Janus’ left one, squeezing it gently. They were both calming gestures in their own ways, and admittedly the most contact Janus had felt in maybe years. If that wasn’t enough to bring back his tears, Logan’s next words certainly were. 

“Why didn’t you write right away?”

“That’s so much missed time we could have spent together,” Remus chipped in, eyes surprisingly soft. 

“I…” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Better let them see how messed up he is now so they can walk away before he gets attached. More attached. “My parents are soulmates and they ended up hating each other. He’s a jerk, he hurts her and me and I didn’t want that to happen to me and my soulmate. Soulmates, I guess. Then the first thing I saw was you guys talking, and I realized, there’s two of you,” He laughed humorlessly, shrugging nonchalantly, “You wouldn’t be missing out if I never made myself known, and what kind of asshole would I be if I intruded on your relationship anyways? It’s not like I can add anything worthwhile. I’m not… that great of a person. I never have been. I have too much baggage and I’m pretty boring and I only scare people away so if I were you I’d get out while I had the chance.” His cracking voice gave away how he actually felt, and he despised himself for it. In all honesty, there was nothing he wanted more than to be held and loved and wanted. He’d never had that before in his life, was it a crime to not want to be pushed aside forever?

To his utter confusion, neither of them pulled away. He’d just vented to two strangers, and they were still as attentive as before. 

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Remus hummed in a decent impression of John Mulaney, letting his thumb glide over Janus’. 

“So if I’m correct,” Logan stated in a tone that implied he usually was correct, “You didn’t contact us because you didn’t want to burden us, or get yourself hurt.”

“I mean… yeah.”

“I’m going to kill your dad,” Remus chirped all too brightly, “For hurting you. And for ever making you think that we would hurt you.” 

“Remus!”

“It’s true!”

Logan sighed heavily, “Remus is a little extreme, sometimes, but he is harmless. Look, I can assure you that your presumptions are entirely false. We would never harm you, and anything you’ve gone through in your past, what you call baggage, is not a deterrent to us in the slightest.”

“I have bipolar disorder, and a whole wacky past that we’ll get into another time,” Remus added, waving away Logan’s ‘shut up’ face, “And in the fifteen years I’ve known this nerd, he’s always stood by me.”

Janus knew it was supposed to feel better, but learning that the two have known each other since long before they knew they were soulmates suddenly made Janus feel that much more like he was intruding. Remus must have noticed his expression, because he quickly kept going.   

“All I mean is that we have our fair share of baggage, my multicolored friend-”

“Remus!”

“Both of us do. So you won’t be hurting us in any way, shape, or form. And we won’t hurt you either.”

Janus’ own doubts were still raging inside him, but each word they said was adding splashes of water, slowly dousing the flames, much to his dismay. Even Remus’ attempts at humor were delighting him in ways he wasn’t used to. 

“For some reason, the universe wants us together somehow. We’re meant to be in each other’s lives. Aw gross, that sounds like something Roman would-”

“Trusting us will be a slow process, and we understand that,” Logan interrupted smoothly, “You don’t need to believe our words, because we’ll prove it to you. Alright?” 

It took a second until Janus nodded, but he did. He could hardly understand it himself.

“Can you start by telling us your name?”

“Janus.” It was a near whisper, a confession of the name he’d disliked since he was old enough to get bullied by his peers.

“The two faced Roman god of decisions, doorways, and new beginnings,” Logan spouted as if on instinct.

“Janus,” Remus repeated slowly, before a huge grin stretched across his face, “I love it.”

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