#that it would mean i would have one less skip day for when exam season starts and all that

[userjungkook97]

:(

[alicanta77]

pairing: hockeyplayer!mark x reader genre: fluff, angst warnings: some swearing word count: 14.6k synopsis: to most people, mark lee was the golden boy. to you, he was just the dork who tried to eat your red crayon in kindergarten. even though kindergarten was a long time ago, the two of you have never been apart. until one day you both realise that you are heading in completely opposite directions after senior year. mark however, refuses to talk about college, claiming he doesn’t want to think about his life without you in it. but ignoring it isn’t going to make it any less real. → part of the “game, set match” universe

i. the golden boy has a terrible memory

Mark groaned, turning in his spot to march back upstairs once more and grab the textbook that he just remembered he’d left open on his desk. Day one of senior year and he’d already had to go back to his room three times to do various things he’d forgotten. The first time he ran up it was to brush his teeth, the second time was to put his watch on, and now for this damn economics textbook. And out of all subjects it just had to be econ, Mark’s least favourite. If he could he would skip it but, as much as Mark hated econ (the subject made zero sense and his teacher had an unprovoked vendetta against Mark and seemed to take pleasure making his life hell) he needed a good grade in it, otherwise, he faced getting cut from the team.

Mark sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder one last time, checking around to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything, thinking to himself that if he had to come back here a fourth time, he was giving up for the day. He paused briefly in his doorway, grabbing his door and shutting it behind him. He jumped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and shouted a quick goodbye to his mum before heading out the front door.

And it was only once he had shut the front door that he realised he hadn’t packed his laptop. Senior year hasn’t even officially started yet, and it has already gone wrong one too many times for his brain to handle at 7am on a Monday morning. Mark audibly groaned, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against his door, a soft bang sounding from the moment his head connected with the hard wood.

“Damn, already? You know you’re meant to be like this in exam season right? Not quite on day one.”

Mark visibly perked up at the sound of your voice, a small burst of energy running through him as he turned in his spot to see you smiling up at him, eyebrows raised only slightly judgmentally.

“I’m starting the year as I mean to go on.” Mark replied, calmness already flowing through his body at the sight of you. Even though the two of you lived close to each other, you had been busy visiting family and preparing for the start of the school year, meaning that Mark hadn’t seen you in a while. 

“Oh god, I hope not.” You groaned. “Cause if you’re gonna be like this every day, then I am dumping your ass on Hyuck and heading off with someone else. Can we at least try to start senior year in a good mood?”

Mark raised his eyebrow at that in thought.

“I mean... we can try but the likelihood of that positivity staying is kinda minuscule so I-” Mark’s voice trailed off as you suddenly shrugged your bag off your shoulder and began to unzip it. He watched as you reached into your bag and pulled out his MacBook, the now slightly faded watermelon sticker you had placed over the apple sign on the back a year ago staring back at him.

“I thought you’d be needing this? It was on my kitchen table.” You explained, holding it out to him as his jaw dropped. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to remember when he left it there so he could explain it to you, but eventually settled on a quiet “thanks”.

“You’re very welcome. And today folks we have reason one thousand four hundred and twenty seven that Mark Lee would be absolutely hopeless without me.” You cupped your hands around your mouth, imitating a commentator as Mark chuckled while shoving his laptop in his backpack.

“Come on, let’s go.” He muttered, chuckling at your antics as he threw an arm over your shoulders and began to guide you on the path to school.

“I’d like to thank the years of having Mark Lee as my best friend. Without that training, I would never have been prepared for such a monumental moment where I could make that big of a difference.” You mimed wiping a tear away, your fake acceptance speech getting increasingly emotional with every word.

Mark scoffed at you, rolling his eyes as he listened to you go on about all the different occasions where you had saved his butt last minute. And to be fair to you, there were quite a lot. There was the time you burst into his room at just past two in the morning, providing him with coffee while he was at his desk writing an essay that had been due at midnight. He had told you not to worry and to go to sleep, but instead, you’d arrived armed with snacks and enough caffeine to keep a sleep-deprived army awake for the next three days and sat on his bed doing some of your own work, occasionally passing him a fizzy gummy worm while encouraging him he could finish. You had brought countless ice packs to his training sessions, holding them to various bruises that tended to litter different areas of his body. And you hadn’t missed a single game he had played in the past ten years. You claimed you were his good luck charm, and without you, he wouldn’t be able to play well, so you were obliged to show up to every one and scream as loudly as you could.

So as much as Mark liked to pretend that he would be fine by himself, he couldn’t help but smile to himself and think you were right.

He really would be hopeless without you.

ii. econ sucks... like really sucks

For a Monday in senior year of high school, Mark thought it hadn’t gone that badly. Of course, most of his teachers had started their lesson by giving the “this is the most important year and we’re not going easy on you” speech, which basically means that he could probably expect about four essays by the end of the week, but otherwise it had been alright. Mark could even say, enjoyable.

Outside of classes, he’d been able to spend the day, chatting and catching up with the friends he’d missed. He’d heard about where they’d all gone for summer break, and their plans for the year now they were back. Chenle wasn’t planning on signing up for any extracurricular clubs apart from basketball, because he didn’t need to, whereas Jisung was planning on not signing up for anything other than baseball, because he couldn’t be bothered to. Jaemin had decided to join the photography club and was attempting to convince Jeno to join as well. While Jeno seemed to be steady in his decision not to, claiming lacrosse would take up too much of his time, Mark knew that he’d give in soon enough. As tough as Jeno could act, he found it difficult to say no to people, especially Jaemin. Renjun had his plans for his fencing team, being easily the most skilled he was looked up to a lot and was working closely with the coach this year. It was clear how much that meant to the younger boy and Mark was proud of him.

And then there was Hyuck. After you, Hyuck would easily be Mark’s best friend, and unfortunately for Mark, the only other person who knew him better than he knew himself. However, the biggest difference between you and Hyuck is that, while you would use your knowledge to help him most of the time, Hyuck uses it to mess with him almost constantly. But even with the teasing nature of the younger boy, he was always supportive of Mark, especially when it came to his feelings about you.

Mark had never been good at hiding how he felt, he was too expressive. Sometimes that worked in his favour, with people like you who knew how to read him easily being able to tell when there was something on his mind that he needed to talk about. But it also worked the other way, where it was incredibly difficult for him to hide something when he needed to, or wanted to. It had taken one afternoon for Hyuck to figure out Mark’s feelings for you, starting with how Mark smiled the second you arrived, continuing with him offering you his jacket, and ending with Mark watching you right up until the second the taxi you left in disappeared from sight. He had turned back around to see a knowing look on Hyuck’s face, and just knew he was screwed.

Hyuck had been helpful though, never taking his teasing too far, and being there anytime Mark needed to talk. He had also been the one to let Mark know when the other boys had figured it out, telling them where the boundaries were when it came to jokes.

“Look at our senior!” The aforementioned boy’s name drew Mark out of his daydream to look around the cafeteria lunch table with wide eyes. “Half way through day one and he’s zoning out.”

“Thinking about a special someone?” Jaemin asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, Mr Seo. I’ve got econ next and that man hates me.” Mark deadpanned, trying to cover how he was really thinking about you.

None of the boys bought it, the scoffs and sarcastic nods told him as much, but luckily for Mark, they dropped it.

“But you’ve got practice after school right?” Renjun asked, always the nice one to change the subject. “You guys are the first to get back into it aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we are. Ice hockey always starts first.” Mark nodded, bringing his glass of water up to his lips. “Along with lacrosse and soccer we are the only sport to have preseason training.”

Jeno and Hyuck nodded at Mark’s words, both of them understanding the process. Soccer, lacrosse and ice hockey all called their players in before term started to get them back on the field/rink in order to warm them up, ready to go straight into trials and try outs.

“How come you don’t have it, Jaemin?” Jisung asked, turning to the older boy that sat on Mark’s right hand side.

Jaemin opened his mouth to answer but just at that moment a bell rang through the cafeteria, signalling that the boys had ten minutes to clear their trays and get to their next class.

“I have no idea.” Jaemin quickly answered Jisung’s question as the group began to stand, picking up various wrappers from their lunch. They stopped off at the bins, throwing away their rubbish before stacking their trays and heading off.

When they reached the corridor the boys separated, leaving Mark to go by himself, he waved quickly before walking off to his locker. He opened it, grabbing his econ textbook, and paper before shutting his locker just in time to hear the bell go again.

“Shit.” Mark whispered to himself, taking off at a jog down the hall. He couldn’t give Mr Seo an actual reason to treat him any worse. 

He burst into the classroom, relief flooding him when he didn’t see Mr Seo sitting at the desk in front. Mark let go of a breath, thinking he’d just made it. He turned to look for the empty seat that would be his only for his entire body to tense up when he spotted your worried look and Mr Seo sat at the desk in front of yours.

Well that relief didn’t last long.

“Mr Lee.” Mr Seo stood from his seat, walking slowly towards Mark who was standing at the front.

You bit your lip, internally screaming at the interaction in front of you. Mr Seo was staring Mark down as if he was a predator and Mark was a wounded deer that he would take as his prey. Mark mumbled an apology and attempted to move past, but he wasn’t allowed to.

“Enlighten me, Mr Lee, as to why, on day one you can’t be trusted to show up to my lesson on time?”

“Sorry, Mr Seo.” Mark repeated, thinking it would just be safer to apologise than try to answer his question.

Mr Seo was silent for another few seconds, as if he was waiting for Mark to crack, before finally stepping to the side and allowing Mark to pass. It felt as though the entire class let out a breath of relief when Mark sank into his seat and Mr Seo turned his attention to the board in front of him, instructing the class to copy down the notes he was going to write, and then continue from a certain page in the textbook.

Mark opened his paper, fumbling around for a pen, his heart stopping when he came to a dreadful realisation - he didn’t have one.

“Mr Lee!” Mark’s head shot up at lightning speed and Mr Seo stalked his way towards him once again. “If you are about to inform me that you aren’t properly equipped for my lesson either, you are going to find yourself in after school detention.”

“But it’s the first official practice of the season.” Mark protested, not quite able to wrap his head around the fact that he may be kept from it.

“Then you better have a pen.” Mr Seo replied, standing right in front of the boy and punctuating each word precisely.

Mark’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, eventually accepting his fate and preparing to be put in detention. He sighed and slowly blinked once, bringing his gaze back up to Mr Seo to say-

“Mark, is it that one on the floor?” Your voice cut through the tense silence, bringing Mark back to reality so fast he crash landed in the steadiness and tranquility you brought him.

He followed your pointing finger to a black pen that lay on the ground by his feet, he reached down and pulled it up, making sure to show Mr Seo. His teacher simply huffed, seemingly disappointed at not being able to give him detention on day one and continued with his class.

Mark flopped back into his chair, hurriedly taking down the notes before they were wiped off. Only once he had copied everything did he let himself breathe once more. He spun the pen in his fingers, watching it twist and his eyes caught a small flash of white. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Mark turned the pen over, spotting the white symbols again, only to notice that they weren’t symbols at all, but letters. More than that, they were initials.

They were your initials.

You’d had a stroke of genius and thrown your pen on the floor before tapping Mark to get him to pretend it was his. Mark turned around in his seat, catching your eye and mouthing a “thank you”. You simply smiled and winked back at him, before looking back to your work to carry on taking notes from the page in front of you. You dropped your head quickly, praying that Mark wouldn’t notice the major effect he had managed to have on you in such a short interaction.

To your luck though, Mark remained oblivious, swiveling back around in his chair and flipping to the right page in his textbook. He spun the pen a couple of more times, pausing in between spins to admire the two small letters with a dot in between them that claimed the small object as yours. Something as seemingly insignificant as borrowing a pen had managed to make Mark's heart beat at what felt like a thousand bpm. Not to mention how you giving it to him kept him out of detention.

Reason one thousand four hundred and twenty eight that Mark Lee would be hopeless without you.

iii. time flies when you’re stressed af

Mark all but collapsed onto the bench in the changing room, exhaustion from the day creeping up on him. Well... ‘creeping’ might not be the right word, more like crashing into him head on like a truck filled with bricks. 

He’d lost track of exactly how far into the term they were. When he’d asked a teammate earlier they’d informed him that it was week 4, but to Mark it still felt as though it was week 2. The fact that they were further through than he realised but there was still so much to go made Mark feel even more tired than he already was.

It wasn’t as though he’d been expecting this year to be easy, he just hadn’t been prepared for it to be quite this hard. And on top of everything he had both his parents and most of his teachers on his back about applying for college next year.

He’d opened his emails last night to an offer for an athletic scholarship, provided he could get his grades in econ up. It was Mark’s dream school, everything he ever wanted, and yet there was one thing that had always held him back from it.

It was on the other side of the country. 

Mark knew where you would apply, just like him, you’d spoken about going to this college ever since you were a kid. You’d changed your mind on what you wanted to study about five hundred times, but you’d always known the place. And that place was about two hours away from here, in the opposite direction that Mark would be going if he chose to accept before the deadline in three months.

Mark wanted to go to that school more than he had ever admitted to anyone, even himself, but the thought of leaving you behind absolutely terrified him.

Mark reached down for his water bottle, bringing it to his lips to help cool himself down. He lifted his other arm to wipe some of the sweat off his forehead, before putting his water bottle back down and peeling off his shirt. He dropped it next to him, relishing the cold air that swallowed his overheating body.

You wouldn’t assume that playing on ice makes you so hot, but every time Mark left the rink he was boiling. Some more of his teammates began to pile into the changing room, chatting and laughing after a long practice. They headed for their lockers, the showers and all began to enjoy the end of the day. But Mark didn’t feel like relaxing just yet.

---

You were waiting outside, focusing on the notes from your Maths class. Algebra you could do, trigonometry you could do, but circle theorems... no those bastards you burn in hell for all you cared. You ran your hands through your hair, sighing as the numbers refused to add up in a way that made sense.

Eventually you decided you weren’t going to get through it today, snapping your notebook shut and refusing to think about Maths for the rest of the day. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, opening your texts to see one from your mum, asking when you’d be back. You were just telling her you were about to leave when Mark appeared.

You quickly hit send, jumping up from the bench you were sitting at to head over to him. He looked tired, his shoulders were slumped slightly and he walked slower than usual, so you nudged him with your shoulder as you both began to walk home.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, brows furrowed worriedly.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine, just tired.” He replied. You nodded to his reply, feeling exhaustion from the year weighing you down as well.

“I officially sent off my application today!” You announced, thinking that a change in subject would take Mark’s mind off whatever it was that was weighing him down. “It’s weird, I feel as though I’ve barely spoken to you about college. But yeah, I finished all the final details today, now all that matters is my grades. What about you? Have you heard back about the scholarship yet?”

“I really don’t want to talk about college y/n.”

A beat.

Not even a second of a shocked silence between the two of you before you replied with a quiet “That’s okay.” but enough to fill Mark with an overflowing sense of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound harsh I just-” Mark began.

“No it’s fine Mark, don’t worry about it.” You brushed him off but he persisted.

“Please let me, it’s just that college is all anyone is talking about. From my parents to teachers even with the boys and I just, I’ve really liked not having that dark cloud over me when I’m with you. I’d just really appreciate it if we didn’t talk about it.” Mark explained truthfully. Well, mostly truthfully, but is it considered lying to you if he just chose to miss out some information?

You nodded at him, an understanding smile on your face. “Okay, let’s do that then. But on one condition: you keep me in the loop. Tell me if anything happens, I want to be the first person to hear about the scholarship, whether it’s good news or bad.”

“I promise.’ Mark said, his phone that held the acceptance email sitting heavier than ever in his bag.

Now that was a lie.

---

Mark swore he blinked and went to one class and suddenly another week had passed. Yet, here he was, sat in econ during week 5 out of 11 of his first term of senior year. And everyone knew the final three weeks don’t count because the penultimate two weeks are assessments and mock exams for seniors and the final week is just celebrations.

It just so happened that the six weeks left of term perfectly co-aligned with the six weeks he had to accept his scholarship offer. He’d told his mum, asking her to keep it silent while he figured out what he wanted to do. She’d encouraged him to be brave and take it, telling him that he wouldn’t be leaving everything here behind, just placing it on pause for a short while. But Mark was scared that, if he put it on pause, how could he be sure that he would be able to press play again?

The bell went, startling Mark out of his thoughts and causing him to jump and shake his head slightly. He closed his books, piling them up as he climbed out of his chair, stopping briefly to look back and make sure you were following him.

“Don’t forget, essays due this time next week.” Mr Seo barked, making Mark jump once again. He turned around to ask what essay his teacher was referring to, but decided against it, the thought of the verbal attack he would be put through simply not worth it.

Your hand pushed lightly on his shoulder, telling him silently to move and he took your hint, hurrying out of the classroom. As soon as the two of you were in the corridor he turned to you, a worried expression on his face.

“Essay?” He panicked watching as you started to laugh at him.

“I’ll send you the question later.” You told him, patting his cheek lightly as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Reason one thousand four hundred and twenty nine.” Mark thought to himself, making a quick note on his hand before turning back to you.

“You coming to lunch?” Mark asked, watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t. I’ve got Maths clinic.” You told him, your shoulders sagging slightly at the thought of going for extra Maths help during your break.

“Oh right, circle theorems?” Mark guessed, knowing this was the biggest thing you struggled with.

“Yeah, they suck.” You pouted, and Mark had to physically refrain from squeezing those cheeks and kissing the pout off your face. His gaze dropped to the floor, hiding his reddening cheeks.

“I know they do.” He muttered, waving a quick goodbye as you went your separate ways.

Mark decided to stop off at his locker before going to lunch, wanting to dump his books rather than carrying them around for an hour. He stacked his econ textbook next to his history one, quickly making sure that he had everything he needed for the afternoon. He paused, scrunching his eyes as he tried to shake the feeling that he’d forgotten something. He checked his left hand to see if he’d written anything down, confused when his hand was empty beside the note he’d just written.

He shrugged the feeling off, reaching up to close his locker when he caught a glimpse of a piece of paper taped to the inside of the door. Mark rolled his eyes at his own memory, studying the to-do list he had taped there just that morning. There were a few things scrawled there in his messy handwriting.

1. wish jeno good luck for driving test 2. finish essay on stoicism vs epicureanism 3. get new mouthguard for game next sat 4. confess

Mark stared at the fourth thing on the list, the one that had been written and scribbled out. He reached down to the bottom of his locker, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He slowly opened it, his eyes scanning over the letter to you that he had penned out, confessing every feeling he had towards you and how none of it added up to you two just being friends.

He went to put the letter back in his locker, pausing just before dropping it and stared at it hard. Mark had never been good at taking risks, especially when he was risking something he cared about or treasured. But, within six months, Mark’s entire life would be changing, so maybe this was the time to take a leap of faith.

He placed the letter in a side pocket of his backpack and quickly shut the locker before he could change his mind. Putting the letter there was a silent command to himself, that he would tell you before the term was up. That way he could either enjoy the time he had left with you as his girlfriend, or, he could spend the time he had left making up for his mistake so he didn’t lose you completely.

Mark shook his head, as if he was trying to shake the thoughts out of them, moving quickly to the cafeteria to meet the boys. He went through the canteen quickly, grabbing a plate of food and looking for their table. They were easy to spot, their voices travelling through the already noisy space.

“Is it really that bad?” Jaemin asked Renjun, who gave him the most exasperated look Mark had ever seen.

“You don’t know this girl. She's a nightmare and a half.”

Hyuck snorted at this, apparently finding an endless amount of joy in Renjun’s troubles.

“What’s this?” Mark asked, sitting down, Renjun sighing deeply at his question.

Jaemin rolled his eyes at Renjun’s dramatics, turning to Mark to answer him.

“Renjun has a new partner in fencing, and apparently, she can be a little difficult.”

“A little?! This girl is the epitome of difficult.” Renjun snapped back, causing the rest of the table to laugh at his extreme reaction. “Ugh, can we please change the topic.”

“Sure.” Mark agreed, turning to a different boy on the table, the list that was stuck up on the inside of his locker door flashing through his head. “Jeno, good luck today by the way! What time is your driving test?”

Jeno’s head shot up to Mark, his eyes wide as he clearly wasn’t expecting the conversation to be turned to him. “At 3. I’m leaving early for it.”

“Are you missing practice?” Chenle asked, and Jeno shook his head. 

“It’s cancelled today, the soccer team has priority.” He turned and shot a death glare at Hyuck, who simply smiled sweetly back and shrugged innocently. “I still don’t get why you need the lacrosse pitches when you have enough of your own...”

“Enough complaining.” Hyuck ordered, causing a couple of laughs of disbelief at his boldness. “Mark, don’t you have a game next weekend?”

“Yeah, but if I don’t pass Mr Seo’s test next Monday with at least 75, I’m not gonna be allowed to play.” He admitted, various groans and eye rolls emitting from the boys around him, the mutual hatred for Mr Seo filling the atmosphere.

“Is your girl gonna be there?” Renjun asked, and Hyuck nudged his shoulder for good measure.

Mark didn’t even need to reply, the smile that subconsciously made its way onto his face told them enough. He threw his head back, slouching in his chair as the relentless teasing began.

“Okay! Okay we get it.” Mark raised his voice, the boys still laughing at how flustered he was. “I’m in love with my best friend, we get it.” He grabbed his water, bringing it up to his lips for a sip, pausing when he took in how the table had gone completely silent. “What?”

“Love?” Jaemin asked, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“We knew you liked her, but...” Jisung trailed off, the boys putting the pieces together. The way he would always protect you, would drop anything for you without you even asking, would always smile the second you were brought up in conversation.

It was Renjun that voiced the question that they all were thinking.

“You’re full on in love with this girl aren’t you?”

Mark sighed, fiddling with his fingers that were resting on his tray as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“I really am.” He admitted, finally looking up at the younger boys and finding them all staring back at him, their expressions soft and supportive.

“Well, then you better tell her.” Hyuck stated matter of factly, the rest of the boys at the table nodding, the previous teasing manner completely abandoned.

“I can’t. What if I lose her? That’s a risk I’m not prepared to take.” Mark shook his head, his voice fragile. “We’ll be fine as just friends. I’d rather have her as a friend than not at all.”

“No.” Hyuck disagreed, causing Mark to look at him in confusion. “I mean, no. You don’t want that, you just think you do because that’s what you’ve convinced yourself is easier, because you’re ‘just friends’. But you’re never going to be happy with that Mark. ‘Just friends’, is never going to be enough for you. Look, deep down, you know who you are and what you want. Love is always going to require a huge leap of faith, a blind jump over a three thousand foot drop and you might end up heartbroken, but.. you may end up being the happiest person on the face of the earth.”

If the table wasn’t shocked into silence at Mark’s declaration of love, then they certainly were at Donghyuck’s speech. His words struck a chord with Mark, and he found it impossible to tear his eyes off the younger boy next to him. But it was Hyuck’s next words that shocked Mark to his core.

“You will never forgive yourself if you don’t go for this.”

iv. he shoots, he scores, he... slips over

You checked the time on your watch, a silent curse falling from your mouth when you realised you would be late if you didn’t leave. You grabbed your bag, running towards your bedroom before skidding to a stop, turning around and jogging back to your desk.

You slung your bag off your shoulder, opening it and placing all the homework that was on your desk into it. The worst thing to do would be forget that.

“Okay.” You sighed, preparing yourself to leave again.

You took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the kitchen as you’d run out of time for breakfast and grabbing the door. Only when your hand closed around the knob of your front door did your head fall back as you remembered the pencil case you’d left abandoned on your bed.

“Fuck!” You swore, the frustration getting to you.

“Y/n.” A warning shout from your mother in the next room echoed through the house.

“Sorry!” You yelled back, apologising quickly for your language before dropping your bag where it was to run back up the stairs. You entered the room once more, throwing your covers around as you tried to look for the essential object you’d forgotten. “Oh my god, I’m turning into Mark.”

“Rude.” Mark’s sudden voice made you jump as you whirled around where you stood, the boy overhearing your previous mumblings.

“Am I wrong?” You teased him.

“No...” He admitted, his gaze falling in defeat. You followed his eyes to see your pencil case stranded by his feet. A yelp of relief left you as you dove to the ground. “But that’s not the point! Can we go soon please? We have that econ test today and I really need to pass it.”

“Yeah, yeah sorry.” You said, leading Mark out of your house, stopping to shout a goodbye to your mum as you packed the final item in your bag.

You shut the front door behind you and you and Mark began the walk to school, testing each other on econ as you did.

Mark had heard yesterday that Jeno had passed his driving test, causing the younger boy to gleefully laugh at Mark for being older than him but still having to walk to school every day. But Mark didn’t really care, it gave him more time to spend with you.

Even though the two of you took the same route to school every day, somehow, every trip you took felt shorter than the last. Mark wasn’t sure if it was if you’d been getting fitter from walking everyday, or if it was just that time always seemed to pass faster when he was around you. Or maybe it was that, every time it was just the two of you, there never seemed to be enough time together. Mark wasn’t sure if there would ever be enough time, he would always be wanting to spend more time with you, to be with you for as long as he could.

Once again, the gates of the school appeared much too soon for Mark’s liking. You followed him through them, both heading to your lockers to prepare. You had Geography, while Mark had History and then you’d both meet again in period 3 for econ.

“Good luck.” You told him, patting his shoulder. Mark sent you a nervous nod and you had to stop yourself from leaning in to kiss his cheek in reassurance. Your hand lingered on his shoulder, the harsh sound of the bell pulling you out of your trance and sending you jogging down the corridor to Geography, not noticing Mark watching you every step of the way.

---

Mark spun the pen he was holding, the urge to cry over the paper sitting on his desk almost overwhelming him. You were sitting behind him, studying your own exam paper as he panicked. He spun the pen once more, wracking his brains as he looked over the short questions. He’d decided to tackle the essay question first, not wanting to run out of time for it, but now his brain was fried as he was missing a bunch of the early questions.

His hand shook slightly, leading to him grabbing it with the other one to keep it still. When doing this he turned the pen over, his fingers tracing the small letters that spelt out your initials in white. You’d allowed him to keep the pen after borrowing it in week one, and somehow it had become the only thing Mark would never forget to bring.

He took a deep breath, forcing another round of air into his lungs and looked down at the question again. He spared a look at the clock, realising he only had ten minutes left to figure these out. He studied his paper again, underlining key words in the question and taking it step by step.

Gradually he started to realise what he was being asked, coming to a conclusion for the first question and moving on to the second, then the third, then the fourth  He made his way through as many as he could before the bell went, signalling the end of class as well as the end of the test.

“Pens down.” Mr Seo commanded, all of the students following his instructions. 

Mr Seo then walked down in between the desks, picking up the tests one after the other. He finally reached his desk, placing them down in a pile before turning back to the class.

“You will get your results at the beginning of our lesson next week. Mark, you can come at Friday lunchtime to grab yours. You’re dismissed.”

You quickly packed up your things, noticing Mark doing the same as you both rushed out of the classroom. The two of you were supposed to have Chemistry this whole afternoon to do a practical, but the teacher was out sick, meaning you had the rest of the day off.

“Since we have the afternoon off, do you wanna grab a bite to eat?” You suggested, Mark nodding slowly at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, noticing the way his eyes were fixated on the ground, his hands were fiddling with the edge of the pad of paper he was holding and how he was chewing his bottom lip.

“Hey.” You said softly, moving closer to him and placing a light hand on his shoulder. His eyes came up to look at you and you finally saw the nervousness in them that you had noticed in his body language. “You worked so hard for this test, I’m sure you’ve done well.”

Mark sighed, leading you to your lockers. “I hope so.”

“Look, there’s nothing more you can do about it now anyway, so, let’s go get some food and ignore all the work we have to do for tomorrow.” You grinned at the sight of Mark’s face splitting into a smile as he nodded.

---

“Why do we even argue about where we’re going to eat when we both know we’ll always end up coming here?” You asked Mark, not really expecting a reply as you reached for another fry.

Mark simply shrugged, taking a bite out of his burger. You two had done what you always seemed to do: bickered at the school gates for a solid ten minutes about what you were going to eat before once again deciding on McDonalds.

“Be honest.” You began, Mark’s eyes drifting up to yours. “How did you think that econ test went?”

Mark paused, placing his burger back down as he reached for his drink.

“Honestly, I think it went better than previous tests, I just hope it’s enough to be over 75.”

“If is it, will he bring up your predicted grade?” You asked, nibbling on your nuggets.

“I hope so.” Mark replied, his voice slightly muffled from the friend in his mouth.

“Will that help you with applications for college?” You asked casually, hoping that Mark would be happy to talk about it just slightly.

But you had no such luck. Mark shot you a warning look, taking a sip of his drink as you muttered a quiet “sorry” and sank back in your chair.

You knew Mark didn’t want to talk about college with you, but you still felt left out. This was a huge part of your final year and it felt like you and Mark were going through it separately. It felt as though it was creating a distance between the two of you, a space that you weren’t allowed to touch. And you hated it.

“Are you coming to the game on Saturday?” Mark asked, changing to topic quickly as he picked up his burger once more.

“Of course.” You said as if it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.” Your best friend grinned at you, his expression quickly turning to disgust as he watched you dip the fry in your fingers into your vanilla milkshake. “Y/n.... no.”

“Hey! It’s delicious, you just refuse to try it.” You shot back, threatening to throw an untouched fry at him.

“And I never will!” Mark declared, actually throwing a fry at you, that, to your utmost delight, landed in your milkshake.

You threw your head back, laughter escaping you and Mark couldn’t stop himself from joining in. As much as he hated your ugly habit with how you ate your fries, he couldn’t pretend like your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful sound in the universe. Even when he was having the worst day imaginable, your laugh could still make him smile. Nobody else could change his mood to happy like you could.

Reason one thousand four hundred and thirty.

---

Mark’s hands were balled up in fists by his side as he nervously stood in front of Mr Seo’s desk. Friday had come way too fast for his liking, and here he was, about to get his results.

“Now, Mark, we had an agreement.” Mr Seo began, looking up at Mark from where he was seated. He was holding Mark’s test in his hands, studying whatever grade was written there without showing the boy what it was.

“Yes, 75 or over, otherwise I can’t play in the game tomorrow night.” Mark nodded, his hands beginning to shake slightly.

“Well, I’m sorry.” Mr Seo said and Mark sighed dejectedly and he dropped his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Mark’s head shot up from it’s position just as Mr Seo turned his paper around for Mark to see the large 86 that was circled in the top right hand corner. His eyes widened in shock as Mr Seo chuckled at his reaction.

“With the recent work you’ve been handing in during class and for homework, and now these results, I’d feel comfortable moving your predicted grade up to what you need. You did well Mark. Good luck on Saturday.”

“Thank you.” Mark mumbled, grabbing the paper in his hands to make sure it was real. With that, Mr Seo stood up, leaving Mark in an empty classroom.

Mark wasn’t sure if he felt like screaming, jumping or just crying from joy. Not only could he play in the match on Saturday, but if his grade was moved up, then he definitely had a place at his dream college in the coming Autumn.

Everything was falling into place. Well... everything except you.

---

You bit your lip in anticipation, leaning forwards on your knees as you watched Mark skate skilfully around the rink. Hyuck was sitting next to you, complaining every time you stole one of his nachos, but you knew he only bought a large one so you could grab some when you wanted. 

You looked up at the scoreboard for a second, seeing how it still stated that the guests were winning by two goals. The home team, your school team that Mark captains, had put up a good fight, but it seemed as though everything they tried, the other team were ready for. The three goals they had managed to get so far had taken them causing absolute chaos and having no plan or set play to get them. The bright yellow 5 that was digitally spelt out on the scoreboard stared mockingly down at the players on the ice.

The fourth and final quarter was over half way done, with only five out of the fifteen minutes left and it was not looking optimistic. The opposition seemed to always have the puck, and, since there wasn’t long of the game left, they were just passing it around the rink and trying to waste as much time of the game as they could. Mark skated towards one of them, and Hyuck leant forwards, his posture now mirroring yours. You both hissed in sync at how Mark and the other player collided,  resulting in them both being sent to the penalty box.

You stood up, quickly mentioning to Hyuck how you were going to talk to Mark before climbing over various seats to reach Mark. You approached him, sitting alone and knocked on the window. His head shot up, a tired smile breaking out across his face when he saw it was you.

“Please tell me you’ve noticed something?” Mark asked and you nodded. You had a habit of analysing the game and telling Mark what you’d noticed from a different perspective to his. You may never have played the game and on skates you looked like a toddler trying to walk for the first time, but having watched Mark’s games for so long you understood what he was doing.

“You’ve only got your goals when there hasn’t been any logic behind it. The plays aren’t working, they know what you’re going to do, you can’t plan it. You just have to go with your instinct.” You told him, watching as his eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head in confusion. “Don’t think, just play!”

Mark nodded, his eyes wide as he finally caught on and you tapped lightly on the plastic to wish him good luck and turned to head back to your seat. You collapsed back into the chair, a large sigh leaving you.

You and Hyuck watched as Mark made his way back onto the ice, his skates carrying him effortlessly across it. You could see Mark and his team falling into formation, clearly having a rehearsed play in mind that they were trying and you and Hyuck shared a look, knowing it wouldn’t work. Then Mark suddenly tilted his head, as if he heard something, and he sped up, breaking out of his place and surprising his defender.

He skated in circles, distracting and confusing the other team at his absolute randomness. It worked just long enough for a turnover to be caused and the rest of the boys on the team worked on getting the puck up the rink. You lost track of it for a few seconds but found it again when it came into Mark’s possession.

He skated towards his defender head on, not seeming to make any kind of dodges and spun himself at the last minute, whacking the puck into the back of the net.

The sidelines erupted, everyone jumping to their feet and cheering as their team scored. You saw the boys on the ice surround Mark, patting him and congratulating him, but he just tried to talk to them, instructing them on what to do. You took this time to glance at the clock, seeing how they just had one minute to even the scoreboard. By doing that they would go into sudden death, and the next goal scored would win.

The players reset, lining up in their positions as the whistle set them off. The puck immediately went to another boy from your school and you clenched your hands into fists. The puck jumped from person to person, the boys passing it fast, and it eventually came to Mark.

Mark pulled his stick back and you took a breath in.

“There’s no way he could get it in from there.” Hyuck muttered from next to you, and you knew he had a point. He was too far away, but there wasn’t enough time on the clock for him to do anything else. But if anyone could make that shot, it was Mark.

Mark swung his stick forwards, connecting with the black puck and sending it flying. It shot towards the goal, his aim perfect and it sailed past the goalie and landed in the goal. The whistle went, signalling sudden death and you and Hyuck jumped up, screaming as loud as you could.

You were both clutching onto each other, the tense atmosphere making your heart pound. You saw Mark look up to where you were and you waved at him. You couldn’t see his direct gaze due to his helmet, but he seemed to look at the two of you for a few seconds, causing the two of you to point him back to his game.

He tilted his chin, lowering himself into the right position and ready to go.

From them on, everything seemed to move in slow motion. You felt as though you could hear everyone’s heartbeats and their breathing patterns. Then the whistle blew and everything began.

The puck went back and forwards between teams, travelling from one end of the rink to the other over and over again. They’d been in sudden death for four minutes, and it didn’t look like either team was tiring or giving up at all.

You stood up, your heart in your throat as you saw Mark skating around. He came to a stop, looking back up towards your direction and you nodded at him. You thought it was too small for him to notice, but he nodded back.

Hyuck stood up next to you, the rising tension drawing him to his feet as the puck went back into your team’s possession once again. Just like before, it bounced from person to person, not allowing the other team time to tackle, until it came to Mark. 

Mark was furthest ahead, and by far the fastest skater, he took the puck behind the goal, doing a circle and coming out around at a new angle. He was face to face with yet another defender, but he drew himself out, skating backwards for a few steps until he swung the puck out and shot around the defender that was marking him.

You held your breath as the puck flew towards the goal, making a satisfying noise as it hit the back of it.

There was a second of silence, and then the final buzzer went, confirming the victory and you and Hyuck lost your minds completely. Everyone on the sidelines jumped out of their seats, screaming their heads off as well. 

In ten minutes, Mark had managed to completely turn the tide, giving his teammates what had seemed like an impossible win. You let out a laugh of disbelief, clapping and cheering as the players circled the rink, waving to those in the stands.

They soon headed back into the locker room, ready to change out of their kit and head home. Hyuck and you walked out of the stadium, chatting excitedly about your favourite moments in the game. He wanted to stay with you and Mark, but he could see his mum’s car, meaning he had to run. 

He gave you a quick hug before jogging off, a promise to see you on Monday shouted over his shoulder.

You stood outside alone, impatiently waiting for Mark to appear. You always waited for him to change after his games, but after this one, you couldn’t wait to tell him how amazingly he’d done. He’d single handedly won the game for the school.

A silhouette appeared and you could tell from the way they walked that it was Mark. You took off at a run, only speeding up when you finally saw his undeniably attractive features and launched yourself at him once you got close enough.

Mark yelped slightly in surprise, not expecting you to jump into his arms like that, but caught you nonetheless. He dropped his bag by his side and wrapped both arms tightly around your waist as you repeated over and over how proud you were of him.

You felt him smile into your shoulder and you squeezed tighter, reiterating it once more for good measure. You pulled back, not seeing the smile on Mark’s face falter slightly as you did. But you did notice him wince.

Your face dropped, concern taking over your features and you stepped away from him entirely, your hands coming up to hold his face as you asked him what was wrong.

“Mark? Are you okay, where does it hurt?”

“It’s okay.” Mark reassured you. “Just in the second quarter someone banged into me, I guess I’m only feeling it now cause the adrenaline’s worn off.” Mark shrugged it off, trying to act like it was nothing but you didn’t believe him for a second.

You dropped your hands from his face, reaching down to pick up the bag he dropped. “Come on, let’s go home and get some ice on it.”

Mark nodded, and you slung the bag over your shoulder, a white piece of paper falling out of one of the side pockets as you did. 

“Ahhh, sorry.” You muttered, reaching down to grab it, but Mark got there first, snatching the paper up before you could get close. “Whoa, okay I won’t touch it then. What even is it?” You laughed at his dramatic reaction.

“Uhhhh.” Mark mumbled, turning the paper over and over in his hands as he wrestled with the decision whether to tell you the truth about the confession in the letter and how head over heels he was for you or not.

What if he told you and everything went well and you felt the same? You could go back to his as always, put some ice on his shoulder, you’d kiss him on the forehead and tell him to be more careful next time. He’d promise to, but you both would know that you’d end up in the same position after the next game. Then he could hug you, whispering how glad he was to have you while placing kisses wherever he would reach. You’d fall asleep on him, and he would be able to hold you all night, listening to your heartbeat and confessing all night long.

But what if you didn’t feel the same? Mark would still have to walk back with you, you lived too close to go separately, and he didn’t want you walking home alone. But you wouldn’t hug him the same way you always do when you have to say goodbye, it would be an awkward wave, and saying you’ll see him on Monday, not that you’d text him later or see him in the morning. Mark would ice his shoulder alone, and sit in his empty room, the pain in his shoulder nothing in comparison to what he was feeling in his heart.

He looked back down at the letter, the single piece of paper that had the power to break his heart into a million pieces if he let it. His eyes flickered back up to yours, and he shook his head.

“Just some econ notes from Mr Seo that I finished copying up earlier. I guess I didn’t want to be reminded of them.” He scrunched the paper up into a ball as you laughed. 

You began the walk home, stopping only for Mark to drop the ruined paper into a bin as you went. And he walked away, leaving his most personal feelings sitting heavily at the bottom of a trash can, along with not just the possibility of rejection, but also the possibility of you two being together.

Donghyuck was wrong, friends wasn’t what Mark dreamt of, but life without you wasn’t just not enough for him, it was impossible.

v. hey god, are you listening? it’s me, the one you forgot about

Hell had arrived... also known as exam week.

Luckily enough, it wasn’t your actual exams, only two weeks of mock exams that were a chance for you to pinpoint areas you need to work on and practice new essay techniques. So far you were halfway through them and completely exhausted. As much as you wanted to sleep for the entire weekend, you had another week of exams coming and you had to prepare for them.

So here you were, knocking on Mark’s front door armed with books, your laptop and Mark’s favourite packet of watermelon sweets. The front door opened, Mark’s mum smiling widely at you when you spotted your figure standing in front of her.

“Y/n! Come on in darling.” She opened the door for you, guiding you into the house that you knew just as well as your own. “Mark is just in his room, can I get you a glass of water?”

“That would be amazing, thank you.” You responded, taking a second to place your mountain of books down on their kitchen table and take a breath.

Mark’s mum reappeared, handing you the water which you gulped down. 

“It’s getting colder out there.” She commented and you hummed in response, your nose suffering from your short walk over. “God, look at those books! You two work so hard, make sure to get enough rest.”

“We will. As soon as exams are over, Mark and I are gonna go to the playground that night.” You told her, watching as she nodded understandingly. “But after these we’re done for the term, thank god!”

“And have you heard about any colleges yet?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Not yet. I’ve sent off my application, but I’m not applying for any scholarships or programs like that so it’s unlikely I’d hear back before January.” You explained to her.

“That makes sense, apart from the scholarship offer, Mark hasn’t heard anything back either.”

Scholarship offer?

You swallowed, your mind going completely blank for a second before you realised, she must think you know about this. You simply hummed in response, not trusting yourself to speak

“We both know he wants to take it, he’s dreamt of that school for years I just, I think he’s nervous because it would require him to move to Busan. Being so far away from everything would be strange to him.” She stood up, grabbing your now empty water glass and shaking her head. “Now, don’t let me keep you. Get to your studies so you can get to sleep quicker!”

You smiled at her, loading your arms with your books and belongings and making your way up to Mark’s room. Your mind began to whirl with a million different possibilities as to why Mark hadn’t told you he’d gotten a scholarship offer. You couldn’t help but wonder, how long had he known about it? But the biggest issue that was plaguing your mind was, why didn’t he want to tell you about it?

You didn’t bother knocking when you reached his door, knowing he was expecting you and just pushing the door open instead. 

He was already at his desk, hunched over so many papers you couldn’t even tell what he was working on. His head shot up when you entered, laughing at the sight of you drowning in books.

“Here, lemme help.” He mumbled, standing up and heading towards you.

“Laptop! Grab the laptop!” You yelped hurriedly, feeling the item slipping from your grasp.

Mark's quick reactions kicked in, saving your laptop from crashing onto his carpet. It was already reaching the end of it’s life and that old piece of crap had to last you until the end of the year. His fingers traced over the penguin sticker that he had stuck there years ago, covering the apple sign on the bag and his eyes drifted to his own laptop lying on his bed. When he’d got his laptop, you’d told him that you needed to be able to differentiate between the two, and so you’d deicided to choose a sticker for the other person to use to mark as theirs.

You’d gone with watermelon, because it’s Mark, and Mark had chosen a chubby cartoon baby penguin, remembering the night you two watched planet earth and you had fallen in love with the baby penguin you saw, saying that you’d decided you wanted to adopt one. Mark had searched for a penguin sticker everywhere, finally finding the last one left in a store and buying it as quickly as he could. You’d slapped it straight in the middle of your laptop, grinning up at him so wide that he’d forgotten that you had a sticker for him too. That was the moment that Mark knew he would do anything to be the cause of that smile.

You dropped your books on his bed, wincing as one of them bounced off and landed on his floor with a hard thump. You rummaged through them, a happy shout leaving you when you found what you were looking for. You threw the packet of fizzy watermelon gummies towards Mark, grinning as his face lit up at the sight of them.

Together, you organised the pile of books and notes, ordering subjects by the order the exams are in and how screwed you were for it on a scale of one to ten. You settled down, picking up your psych textbook and flipping through until you found the section on Psychosexual development.

“Okay... let’s start with the messed up stuff and get that out of the way.” You muttered, your eyes scanning the page to find things to test Mark on. “How many stages are there?”

“Five.” Mark answered, throwing a sweet to you as he chewed on his own.

“Correct. And they are?” You picked it up, biting into the gummy and listening as Mark named stage after stage.

It continued like this for a while, swapping notes and verbally testing each other on different subjects and going over the questions that you got wrong. Eventually you ran out of common topics between the two of you and you both settled down to do some individual revision. 

The hours passed, both of you taking short breaks and flipping between subjects. You readjusted your position multiple times, shifting from placing having your laptop on your legs with your back against Mark’s headboard to lying down on your back, your head on Mark’s pillow and your laptop placed on your raised knees.

Sometime through the night you had pulled one of Mark’s hoodies over your frame, keeping yourself warm and also surrounding you in his scent. There was something about Mark that was just so reminiscent of the feeling of home. He brought security, comfort and love to your life and you never wanted to lose that. You didn’t know how you would go on if you ever lost him.

So when you opened your mouth to ask about the scholarship, you couldn’t. You didn’t want to upset him, if he wanted to tell you, he’d tell you. You hoped.

You tried to give up on the thought, finding it too distracting from the passage of Plato’s works that you were trying to focus on.

You found your eye lids getting heavy, the long night of constant focus and week of exams had worn you down. It was taking too much effort for you to keep them open, and you allowed yourself to give up. It barely took any time for you to fall asleep, sinking further into Mark’s mattress and drifting off to sleep.

After a short while, Mark turned around to check up on you, his face softening when he saw your passed out figure. He stood up, waking over towards you and gently lifted your laptop off your legs. He made sure to save your work, before closing it and placing it on his desk. He then cleared all your books off his bed, piling them up at the foot of it, and readjusted your legs and position so that he could pull the duvet up over you.

He crouched down next to you, lifting one hand and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Mark sighed, not understanding how someone could look so beautiful and not know it. His feelings grew at the sight of you, any hope he ever had of just being friends with you throwing itself out the window.

As much as he hated to admit it, Donghyuck had been right, just friends would never be enough for Mark, he would never be happy with that. But Mark wasn’t sure he was ready to risk that friendship for something more.

He leaned down, pausing to contemplate his own actions before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. He pulled back just in time to see the small smile spread across your face as you slept peacefully. Mark could have sworn his heart grew in size at that sight.

“Reason one thousand four hundred and thirty one.” He whispered to himself, still looking down at you.

You hadn’t done anything, but, you didn’t have to do anything. You didn’t have to take care of him, or remind him of work, or make him laugh. You didn’t need to do anything special for Mark to be in love with you. You just had to exist.

vi. i guess we’re not five years old anymore

You said nothing as Mark dragged you through the park. You didn’t have to ask where he was taking you, the route being so memorable and the fact that there was only one place around here that you two would visit nowadays. You’d finished your mock exams the day before, luckily both having your final test on a Thursday so you didn’t have to come in until the following Monday for the end of term celebrations. Instead, you’d decided to spend time together, as you always would, but from the moment you saw Mark, you didn’t need years of experience being his best friend to know there was a lot going through his mind.

The playground appeared in the distance, the top of the coloured treehouse appearing through the trees. A small but noticeable grin broke out across Mark’s previously hard face, and you relaxed at the sight of the smile.

This had always been a safe haven for you, an area where, as you climbed the ladder to the treehouse, the world disappeared from beneath your feet and you could recreate it to be anything you wanted it to be.

You felt that world disappear from underneath you once more, watching as it fell away with every step you took, until you were sat on the edge, dangling your feet over the clouds. Mark, however, had a slightly less graceful journey up.

“Argh!” Mark yelped, tripping over his own feet slightly as he struggled to fit next to you. He sat down harshly next to you, the treehouse letting out an ominous groan that had the two of you sharing a worried glance. It had never been the most reliable when you were kids so you were already surprised that it had held out so well. You let out a nervous laugh, turning your gaze back out to the view that summed up most of your childhood.

You sat next to Mark, both of you with your legs hanging over the edge and swinging gently. Mark’s hands rested on the painted wood beneath him and his fingers tapping out a rhythm. You listened to the pattern, finding the repetitive sound calming and knowing that it was probably the beat to a song that had been stuck in his head recently. Your eyes trailed up his hand, noticing the random scribbles on the back of his hand that disappeared under his team jumper.

Mark had never had a good memory. That’s why his skin was often littered with notes to himself that he would write on his hand throughout the day. Things like “buy flowers for mum” or “renjun bday on 23” or “chem paper due wed”. Anything he didn’t write down, he simply relied on you for. 

Your eyes kept wandering, journeying up his arm and along his neck, making a note of the moles that sat there staring back at you. You continued looking upwards until you were looking at his eyes, finding them already watching you.

“God, I’ve missed this fort.” You mumbled, staring out over the view.

“I don’t miss how small this space is, I can’t believe we used to camp up here. Never doing that again.” And you both chuckled at his words and the memories of you both spending nights up here, telling stories and watching the night sky. “I’ve gotta say, I think I’d take us chilling in my bedroom over squished in here.”

“Well, this treehouse was everything to me. When I was up here, I was so safe, it was like, nothing could touch me.” You sighed, swinging your legs over the empty space beneath you. “I could pretend as though I didn’t hate my mum, I was doing well in school, I had friends.”

“You had me!” Mark interrupted indignantly.

“Yeah, well... you were enough.” You smiled, mumbling your words just loud enough for Mark to catch them anyway, his cheeks dusting with a shade of pink as he did.

You began to speak, closing your mouth again as you changed your mind about how to begin. However, Mark noticed your movements, looking at your with his eyebrows furrowed, silently telling you to continue.

“It’s just-” You tried again, pausing briefly to swallow your nerves. You were rarely nervous to talk to Mark about something, and anytime you were it was normally the subject you were nervous about, not who you were talking to. But, for the first time in your life, you had no idea how Mark would react. “Why didn’t you tell me about the scholarship?”

Mark visibly froze, his entire body tensing up as he swallowed harshly before asking with a slightly strained voice:

“How did you find out about that?”

“Your mum told me. But Mark... why didn’t you?” You asked, unable to stop the slight hurt from creeping into your voice. “This is all you’ve ever wanted and I don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me about it.”

“Because I didn’t want you to know!” He spat, the venom in his voice surprising you. Mark had never spoken to you like that before and you took that as a sign that you had royally screwed up.

“I’m sorry I- I shouldn’t have brought it up, I just don’t like that we’re starting to keep things from each other, especially about college you know? Cause it’s-”

“Can you stop talking about college? I don’t want to talk about it y/n, I’ve told you that.” Mark turned to you, the previous spite in his voice completely gone and frustration evident instead.

You tilted your head at him, a breath of helplessness leaving you.

“Well for the love of god Mark, will you please tell me why?” You begged, your voice rising with emotion. “This entire term you’ve not spoken to me about it once, and the one time I asked you said you didn’t want to talk about it. And I accepted that. Until it came out that you only didn’t want to talk about it with me? Why? What did I do Mark? Do you not trust me with this? Do you think I’m going to give bad advice? Why Mark? Why?” By this point you were rambling, much more emotional about the situation than when you had started talking. “I’ve applied to-”

“I know where you’re going.” Mark interrupted you again. “You’re dream school, as you’ve always planned to. And I might be moving across the country, happy now? There’s your answer.”

“What do you mean ‘might’?” You questioned him, stepping forwards as you did. “Mark, you have dreamed of going to this school since you were a kid, why would you even consider turning it down?”

“Because maybe I’m not that kid anymore. I grew up. In case you didn’t notice, we both did y/n.” Mark’s voice was starting to resemble the desperation that was in yours, the hate he felt for fighting with you was ringing out loud and clear.

“I noticed that Mark, did you?” You challenged. “Because you don’t seem to want to accept that we’re both moving on from this place in six months.”

“That’s the problem! We’re both moving on but I’m the one moving away and I-” Mark stopped himself, running his hand through his hair before his voice dropped to a mumble. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go, I- I need to get out of here.”

“Mark-” You tried to speak again, but he had already turned around and was walking away from you.

Mark climbed down from the structure, jumping down the last couple of rungs on the ladder and taking off at a fast walk. You swore under your breath, following his movements and climbing down yourself. You landed on the soft grass and began jogging in order to catch up with him.

“Mark.” You called out for him, praying that he would turn around.

But he didn’t. You sped up into a run, calling his name again but louder. He still ignored you, and now you began to panic. If you didn’t fix this, you really might lose him forever. And you wouldn’t be able to deal with that. You finally caught up with him, reaching out to grab his hand and turn him back to face you.

“Mark!” He tried to turn away one last time, his eyes focused on the ground.

You kept a tight hold onto his hand, tugging on it again as you brought your other hand to his face, trying to lift it so he wasn’t staring at the ground.

“Mark, look at me.” Your voice dropped, much quieter and softer, almost inaudible, yet Mark’s eyes still flickered up until they were focused on yours.

Only then did you see the tears that were rapidly gathering in them.

“We-” Your voice caught in your throat, forcing you to swallow before you tried again. “We can’t pretend like this isn’t happening. This year is going to end, and we’re both going to move out and attend different places when September comes and... we won’t be by each other’s side anymore. Ignoring it isn’t going to make it any less real.”

“I know.” Mark whispered, nodding sadly at you. You hadn’t seen Mark this sad since his pet dog, Marbles, died when he was 13. He had appeared at your bedroom door, hugging his pillow to his chest and asking to stay at yours because he couldn’t go to sleep when she wasn’t at the foot of his bed. The two of you had stayed up all night, stealing popcorn from your family’s cupboards and binged his favourite movies until the sun came up.

Movies and popcorn weren’t going to fix this.

“I just can’t imagine not having you in my life.” Mark admitted, his head dropping again as he finally let go of the feeling that had been caging his heart for the past few months.

His head fell into your shoulder as he stepped forwards and wrapped you up in the tightest hug that the two of you had ever shared. Mark buried his head into your shoulder, breathing heavily as he tried to stop the tears from falling. Your arms squeezed around his neck, one hand moving up to the back of his head and you bit your lip and blinked rapidly to stop yourself from crying as well.

“Me neither.” You murmured, but Mark shook his head.

“No, not in the same way. It’s not just losing my best friend, it’s losing you.” You tried to pull back, to look at him and see what was going through his head because he was starting to not make any sense.

But as Mark felt you try to step back, his grip seemed to get tighter. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers, not again. Deep down he knew that he couldn’t ignore talking about this with you forever, but by not talking about it, he managed to savour some time with you where it was as if the future didn’t exist. He could pretend that the two of you would live across the road from each other forever, that you would always be just within an arm’s length. However, the same way you had to climb down from that tree house when you were younger, Mark now had to face reality. A reality where you wouldn’t always be an arm’s length away.

“You’ve always been here. No matter what happened, how old we were, you would always be here for me, and that mattered the most to me. I can’t play a game if you’re not there, I can’t focus if I don’t know that I’m going to see you later, I feel lost when I spend too much time without you. I’m absolutely terrified to graduate, not just because it means leaving behind everything I know and moving somewhere new, but because I have to do all of that without you, and I don’t know if I can ever settle somewhere where I don’t have you there. This place wasn’t home to me because I grew up here, or because my family or friends were here, it was because you were. Every time I’m with you, you make me feel like I’m home.”

Mark was rambling at this point, just saying anything that came into his mind, and you let him. Throughout his speech his grip on you had loosened, allowing you to step back slightly and look up at him. You were stood in his embrace as he stared deep into your eyes, making sure you heard every word that he was saying.

“I’m losing so much more than just my best friend.” Your eyes widened slightly at Mark’s words and his heart began to hammer so hard it felt as though it was going to burst out of his chest. His throat felt tight with nerves, knowing that the next words he was going to say would either completely ruin your friendship, or make the two of you happier than you had ever been. And Mark seriously hoped it was the latter.

“I’m losing the person I love.”

Your jaw dropped slightly at his words, the word “love” somehow making your heart stop beating and beat faster than it ever had before at the same time. You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him - no, scream it out at the top of your lungs as to how in love with him you were but you couldn’t form any words. You couldn’t translate what you wanted to say from your mind to your mouth.

Instead, Mark’s hands left their previous position around your waist, coming up to gently cup your face. His left thumb gently brushed back and forwards over the skin as he took a deep breath. You still hadn’t said anything but you moved your arms from around his neck to rest on his waist, and your eyes flickered down to his lips before coming up to his again.

Mark noticed this, his own gaze doing the same before he just thought “fuck it” and leaned down. He moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to move away, but he never faltered. He used his soft grip on your face to pull you closer and shut his eyes as he pressed his lips to yours.

Your hands formed bunches as they gripped onto his shirt as you kissed him back, pulling your body closer to his. You wanted to move closer to him, but your feet felt as though they were stuck where they were, the feeling of finally kissing Mark keeping you frozen.

Mark pulled away, opening his eyes and looking down at you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say. You looked up at him, your hands not moving from where they were on his chest as his stayed on your face. Neither of you said anything, neither of you moved, you both just stayed in this position for a couple of seconds as you processed what just happened.

Mark noticed your lack of response beyond a shocked look and bit the inside of his cheek. He was almost there, he just had to utter those eight letters that scared him the most. There was no turning back now.

“I love you.”

The words fell from his lips so naturally he couldn’t believe he’d never said it before. In fact, everything around you felt perfect. His hand fit perfectly in yours, your fingers always slotting together easily, his arms fit just right around your waist, allowing him to pull you in when he wanted, and when he kissed you... Mark didn’t think it was possible for something to feel as right as that had. It felt as though you had been two puzzle pieces, always side by side, but finally you were put together and it made everything feel right. Mark felt as if every part of him had been handcrafted by the gods for the sole purpose of loving you.

“I don’t need one thousand four hundred and thirty one reasons as to why I’m hopeless without you. I’ll always be hopeless without you because I can’t function without you. You put everything into motion, my head, my heart, my entire life. It all revolves around you. It’s you, y/n. It’s always been you. It’s always going to be you, no matter where we go.”

You felt as though your entire life was suddenly spurred into motion, as if someone suddenly hit the play button and the world that played in front of you was the kind that you saw in your dreams.

You stepped forwards, closing any distance between you and Mark. Your hands moved upwards to his neck and Mark’s fell down to gently land on your waist. This time, it was your turn to close the gap, leaning in and connecting your lips to his again. You focus on him, pouring all the passion and love that you felt for your best friend into the kiss, not wanting to step away or pull back for a second. 

You wished this moment could last forever, a pure image of two people, hopelessly in love and finally expressing it.

You pulled away, your lungs gasping for air and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Mark’s grip tightened and his arms wound around your waist, pulling you as close as he possibly could.

“I love you.” You confessed, your voice quiet but your words as loud as screams. “I love you, I love you and I’ve always loved you. You’re my person, Mark.”

If it was possible, Mark held you even closer, burying his face into your neck and breathing you in. He wasn’t just holding his friend, he was holding his love, the one person who meant more to him than anyone else on the planet. And he never wanted to let you go.

You lost track of how long the two of you were there, wrapped up in the other’s embrace, whispering confessions of love and sharing kisses. You were only brought out of your trance when a raindrop landed on your cheek, making you jump slightly. Mark reached up a hand to wipe it off, the two of you looking up at the sky which was covered in dark clouds.

“We should probably go.” Mark muttered, you nodding in agreement as a loud rumble of thunder echoed around you. “Yep, we should definitely go.”

The rain began to pour as the two of you ran back to Mark’s house, hand in hand and never letting go for a second. You burst inside, both soaked to the bone and Mark wasted no time in smothering you in his clothes, watching as you allowed yourself to be claimed as his in the most domestic, yet heartfelt way.

You lay next to him on his bed, legs and arms draped over each other as you both finally allowed yourselves to rest. His hand was stroking your cheek as his other held you close. Your fingers drew random patterns on his chest as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat, the heart that he never failed to remind you how it only beats for you.

“Don’t let go.” He softly begged, kissing you on the forehead.

“Never.” You promised, watching the rain land on the window and thinking to yourself how, every time it rained you would be reminded of this day with Mark The day when everything changed.

Sleep finally took the two of you, drawing you into its dreamland, but not knowing that for once, you two couldn’t wait to leave it. Because, when reality is like a dream, you don’t need anything else.

vii. shit i mean, maybe sometimes life kind of can be like a fairytale

The lights shined down on the two of you as you danced around the gymnasium. The yellow reflected off Mark’s eyes, making it look like stars dancing and it was captivating, making it impossible to look away. He smiled down at you, a smile that you were beginning to become familiar with, and one that you hoped you’d never stop seeing.

Your senior winter formal, the final event of the term. After this, you’d be on holiday and you and Mark could spend every day together, just falling deeper and deeper in love.

Confetti decorated the floor, allowing you to drift through colours of white, pastel blue and light green. The halls were decorated in streamers and balloons, with various strings of lights hung up all over the place.

Mark held you close, as he always did. He still had trouble believing this was real, that he’d been so lucky, not just to love you, but for you to love him back.

“So maybe now you’ll finally talk to me about your plans for the future?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at him as Mark shook his head with a smile.

“I promise.” He said sincerely. Ever since that night in the rain, Mark hadn’t kept a thing from you, instead calling you for advice on colleges whenever he was getting worried. “And I’ve actually almost decided, I just need to make sure you’re okay with it. I’m going to take the scholarship.”

“Mark, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, you absolutely have to!” You breathed, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He grinned at you, his smile brighter than any light you’d ever seen. “I’m glad you think so too.”

You leant forwards, resting your head on his chest as he placed a light kiss on it. He squeezed your hand gently, still swaying you in time to the slow music.

“You’re not worried about us being so far away from each other?” You asked quietly, your words slightly muffled.

“We’ll make it work. By that time we’ll have been together for 9 months. I have some Friday’s off so I’ll come down on long weekends to pick you up and we’ll go for waffles, or you can come up in your break and we’ll go out, and obviously there will be games for you to attend and scream at the top of your lungs for me.” Mark rambled, his confidence in the two of you warming your heart.

“Oh hell yeah, try and stop me. I’ll wear your jersey and give you a congratulatory kiss when you win.” You planned, already picturing the moment in your head.

“When?” Mark asked, grinning at you as you lifted your head off him to look in his eyes. “You’ve got a lot of faith in me to win.”

“I’ve known you a long time. You always win.” You smiled.

Mark didn’t reply, instead just smiling before leaning down to place a loving kiss on your forehead, feeling you move into it. He pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours and staring deep into your eyes. He lost track of time any time he was around you, drowning in the universe you held in your eyes. He looked until he couldn’t take it anymore, leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

It didn’t matter how many times Mark kissed you, he still felt that buzz of electricity that sparked after the first time. Mark hoped that buzz never went away, it was like a shock that reminded him just how much he loved you. The extent to which he loved you felt so big he couldn’t quite grasp it fully, but this always helped to remind him.

Deep down he knew a truth that he wasn’t sure he would ever tell anyone. He didn’t feel the same desperate need to win anymore. He didn’t feel as though his life would come crashing down if they were a goal down when that final whistle went. His sport still meant everything to him, it was still his favourite thing to do and is the reason he’s going to the college he chose, but Mark’s learnt that, at the end of the day, it’s who’s cheering for him in the stands that matters more.

He’ll never lose his drive or stop playing, but winning those games isn’t the best thing he could ever do. Winning you was.

And you were one thousand four hundred and thirty one times more special than any trophy he could ever lift.

[v1olentdelights]

She Doesn’t Like Wearing Socks to Bed

George Weasley x Muggleborn!fem!reader & Cedric x Muggleborn!fem!reader & minor Ginny Weasley x Muggleborn!fem!reader Trigger Warnings: It is very sad, um I think just heartbreak Summary: All you wanted was his time. Now all he want’s is you. a/n: This one took a while lol. I want to thank @myalupinblack for beta-ing this fic (is that how you say that?) and for giving amazing feedback! Love you all, I hope you enjoy reading! <3  -  It is also loosely based on ‘When I Was Your Man’ by Bruno Mars

You had never planned to fall for the brave fiery headed Gryffindor. No one expected it, but for some reason you and George just worked. Well you did, recently things had gone astray. And it truly wasn’t anyone’s fault. George had become preoccupied with quidditch and planning for his shop with his brother. You were busy with tutoring alongside Cedric Diggory and studying for your exams. The worst part was that you saw it all happening, you watched yourself drift away from him. And you watched him leave you behind. 

Spotting the red head down the hall you dashed off wrapping your hand around his waiting for him to finish talking. His hand felt almost limp in yours.

“George, can we talk this evening after supper?” “Um I don’t know if I can. I have quidditch practice and then catch up on homework.” he huffed out digging through his bag. “Well can’t you take off quidditch practice today? I mean you attend every single one and then practice even more.” You knew this would happen, that’s all that happens anymore ‘Oh sorry darling, I’m busy.’ “Darling, I can’t and you know that.” he turned to look at you, you saw the dark circles forming under his eyes. “It is important though.” 

“Y/N I said I can’t.”  he began walking off. “GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!” spinning around to face you, his eyes were wide and his face was a bit red. “Meet me in the library at 7:00pm tonight.”

“Okay, I will see you then.” getting ready to go again. “Repeat it back to me so I know you remember.” 

“7:00pm tonight in the library.”

You had eaten dinner thinking of what to say. Should you tell George that you love him but just not like you used to? Do you tell him you can feel the strain between yourselves? Does he feel the strain? “Hey Y/N!” Cedric smiled as he sat down across from you. “Are you alright?” “Yeah, I’m actually about to go on a walk. Would you like to join me?” He smiles even brighter and you can feel your stomach clench. Collecting your things, you and him drop your stuff off in your dormitories before heading out on your walk. With it being the autumn season it began to get dark and cold outside very quickly. 

“Here, take my sweater.” Pulling on the sweatshirt you examined how it was well worn. The Hufflepuff patch was tearing off and the inside was slowly wearing away. Yet it still felt like the safest place on earth. George's arms used to feel like that. Simply waving away the thought you trudged on with Cedric. 

As it drew closer to 7:00 you steered yourself and Cedric towards the library. You had felt somewhat guilty for enjoying the presence of Cedric. But at the same time did George even care? Trying to shed the sweater quickly Cedric was quick to pull it back up over your shoulders. “Keep it, you know how cold the library gets. Anyways we have tutoring tomorrow and you can return it then, if you want.” pulling you in for a quick hug. As he walks out the door you begin thinking about if he held you just a little bit longer. Sitting there alone with your thoughts was not beneficial, you began to think about all the time you and George would sneak out to the Black Lake and watch the stars. Or the times he would randomly burst into your classroom in 4th year telling the teacher he needed your help with school work; only to drag to a dark corner of the library and shower you with his love. 

But then you thought about all the times Cedric randomly took you to Hogsmeade “for a break so your mind power doesn’t deteriorate too much.” When he would sit next to you during the quidditch games he wasn’t playing in. And how during those times he would hold onto your hand or had an arm over your shoulder. You and Cedric had both convinced yourselves that it was simply something friends did, and for a while that was all it was. You let your mind wander for a bit before selecting a book to inevitably get stuck on the same line. 

It was 7:30 by now, George was supposed to be here. But he was nowhere in sight, it wasn’t unusual for him to show up late. So you let it slip. Then the time slowly slipped closer to 8 and you were worrying, what if he fell? Or maybe something got a hold of him. In such a place as Hogwarts that wasn’t very uncommon. Then as if he could hear your worried thoughts, there was George Weasley, running towards you. In his quidditch uniform, a sweaty gross mess. “I’m so sorry I am late. I didn’t think-”

“That’s exactly it George. You didn’t think!” you scoffed feeling your heart strings being pulled. “I asked you to do one thing, one simple thing! I asked you to not go to practice and meet me instead! But it seems you cannot even do that! I wanted to talk to you about our relationship, I needed to talk to you and have an actual conversation. Not a simple hello while passing in the hallways! I feel as though I don’t even have a boyfriend anymore George, this is taking a toll on me!” you whisper yelled

George stood there standing dumbfounded as you started crying, what was he supposed to do? It was quidditch season, and he couldn’t just skip practice. Looking over your broken figure, he wanted to hold you in his arms and make it better. But then he saw the emblem on the sweatshirt you were wearing, and a new found anger was incited in him. “Well it looks like you haven’t had any problems finding company.” he says sourly. It takes you a minute to register what he said. Looking down at your sweatshirt you find the famous Hufflepuff badger. “Did you just imply that I was cheating on you?” your voice was calm, almost too calm. It made George take a step back. “I-”

“YOU UTTER, INSUFFERABLE, PIECE OF TRASH GEORGE WEASLEY!!!! You know what SCREW YOU! I WAS GOING TO TRY AND FIX THIS BUT WE ARE OVER, I HOPE IT WAS WORTH IT!!” you all but screamed as you walked out the library door as Madam Pince watched it all go down. 

You run off letting your feet carry wherever, you didn’t care as long as it was away from George. Ending up in the courtyard you sat down with you back to one of the benches looking up at the stars. Zipping up your sweatshirt you pulled on the sleeves, while holding yourself together.  How could he suggest such a thing, you and Cedric were just friends. You had never been anything more, now does that mean you were denying that you felt butterflies around him sometimes. No, of course you did because he is “pretty boy Diggory” he was in the Triwizard tournaments. But George also had made you feel butterflies, though as the days went on it became less. What had you gotten yourself into? “Y/N? Is that you?” of course, Ginny came running out into the courtyard. “Y/N, what are you doing out here this late? Have- have you been crying?” she asks as she plops down next to you. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” you sniffled scooting closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder. “Well, that’s alright. I’m here if you need me.” she reminds you as she lays her head on yours. “Thanks Gin.” 

.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•

Over the next few days you had taken time to recover, noticing how not once had George tried to talk to you. He didn’t even look your way. But then again what were you expecting? He had barely had enough time for you when you two were dating. You also hadn’t spoken to Cedric since that day either. You hadn’t wanted George to see you two together and go spiraling, but why did you care anymore? You and him were no longer together. 

So what did it matter that you were now walking over to the Hufflepuff table. So what if  you were sneaking up behind Hogwarts “Pretty Boy” to give him a giant hug. Who cared that all of the Weasley family was watching, who cared that now rumors would now be spread.

But George cared, he was trying to figure out how to apologize to you and try to make things right. Then you were walking across the hall, wrapped up in the Hufflepuff sweatshirt you had been wearing that night. You enveloped one of the people he feared would take you away from him. You dragged Cedric along behind you as you left the Great Hall, and with him you took his heart. Molly wouldn’t be happy, Ginny would miss you, who was to indulge Aurther in his various spirals about muggle things? Who would help believe in Fred and himself? You were everything, not just to George but to the whole Weasley family. 

.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•

It was as if the world hated him. Now that you didn’t want to see him, he saw you everywhere. What made it worse was that every time he saw you, you were either with Ginny or Cedric. Just because you and him broke up didn’t mean you couldn’t hang out with Ginny anymore. But he still loved you, and he knew he screwed up. The problem was now winning you back. 

You were sitting in the courtyard while quietly reading and listening to music on your iPod. It was a Saturday meaning no classes, some students had gone to Hogsmeade while others stayed behind. George saw you on his way out, now deciding to instead stay behind and try to reason with you. Though it seems you had caught someone else’s eye as well, right as George worked up the confidence to walk over Cedric did as well. Taking a step back into the corridor he watched as you looked up seeing him. A smile lit up your face. The same smile that had once been reserved for him. You were on your feet slipping your headphones out and running towards Cedric. Within seconds you had jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his torso and giving him a kiss on the cheek.  Had he missed something? 

Hearing the sound of footsteps behind him saw Luna walking with one of the oddest sweatshirts he had ever seen. 

“Luna?” He quickly cleared his throat once he heard how shaky it was. 

“Yes George?” She smiled politely, while he looked between you and Cedric who looked to be talking seriously, and Luna. 

“Um, are Cedric and Y/N a couple? I mean not that I care, but are they?” The end of his sentence was very timid. 

“I believe so, yes. Are you headed to Hogsmeade as well? I can accompany you if you’d like.”

“I think I am just gonna head back to my room. Thank you for the offer though.”

“Of course.” she smiled while skipping off. Looking back he saw you and Cedric sitting down on the bench, pressed close together.

.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•

You and George had rebuilt your relationship to friendship, but nothing more. You were happy with Cedric, moving into a little cottage together after Hogwarts. George turned down every date in hopes that one day Cedric would do something wrong, or that you would realize you wanted to be with him and not “pretty boy Diggory”. You and Cedric were happy as you were, so much so that Cedric had decided to propose. 

Grabbing the mail from the post box, George threw it on the table to be sorted later. Though something shiny caught his eye. 

Please join us for the wedding celebration of Y/F/N  Y/L/N  and Cedric Diggory

He swore his heart stopped, his breath caught, he had read it over and over again. You were gone and there was really no getting you back anymore. The wedding was in 3 weeks as you and Cedric hadn’t wanted to wait any longer. 

The day before the wedding George had written a letter and sent it, by evening it had reached your small little cottage. Cedric had been locking up the front door when an owl flew by, picking up the dropped letter he began to read.

Cedric,

I wanted to congratulate you and Y/N on the engagement, though I will not be attending. I ask that you don’t tell Y/N about this letter, but simply keep this between us. I know I don’t deserve it, but knowing Y/N this would ruin her. I wanted to let you know a few things before you get married. 

Y/N’s favorite song is Magic Works by The Weird Sisters, though she’ll deny it every time you ask. She loves dancing to it in a very abstract manner, not caring one bit who’s watching.  She loves it when you rub the back of her hand with your thumb. She’ll never ask but she almost always wants to be around you, so maybe when you are able just sit with her. Sometimes she feels lonely but she won’t tell you, but she does this thing with her face where she looks all upset. When you and her get into a fight, don’t say somethin you don’t mean. When it rains, pull her outside to jump in puddles, it makes her feel young again. 

If you ever have a garden, let her help take care of it. She has always wanted a garden, and a cat. If you let her, she will take you on adventures you had never dreamed of. Yet they are better than anything. I hope you understand that if she trusts you, then you are special. She doesn’t like wearing socks to bed, the sound of fireworks, or writing in pencil. She loves random hugs, the sound of a lawn mower, the whistle of a kettle, the way a cat's fur feels against her hand. She loves the way it smells after it rains, and loves the sound the rain makes when it hits the roof. 

Just, don’t forget the simple things mean the most. She is simply unique and lovely in every way. Don’t make her regret choosing you. 

- George Weasley

“Cedric darling, are you alright. You’ve been out here a bit.” You asked, sauntering out into the dining room while looking for him. 

“Hm, oh I’m alright. Sorry I just spaced out.” He tucks the letter into his back pocket. Before coming over and wrapping you in a hug dragging you off to your room. “Let’s head to bed now. It's our last night before we are married! We should be in bed.” he winks at you before slipping the letter into the top drawer of his dresser.

Taglist:  @el-imaskingforyourlefthand @aspensworlds @hufflepuffneville2  @wolfstar_lb @

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

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Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”  

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”  

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.  

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.  

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them." 

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me." 

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever." 

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.  

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.  

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige." 

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.  

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.  

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.  

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.  

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

All Cream, No Sugar

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Here is my sfw fic that was submitted to my friend @writing-in-april​ for the 4th Fic Swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ ‘s Discord! Not my best work because I have been struggling to manage time lately and balance everything with my school and personal life. But I hope it is enjoyable nonetheless!

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It was Thursday. Possibly the worst day of the week. Even more awful than Monday. It always felt like a barricade between the beginning of the week and the weekend. The glorious, lazy weekend. Honestly, now that I think about it...Thursday has the same kind of feel as November.   

I chuckled to myself as I left my apartment. My mind was a special place, and I guess today was no different. Better than thinking about my finals, though. Literally anything was better to think about instead of final exams. That’s why I’m treating myself to a break at my favorite coffee shop. I deserve it, really, after the studying I have been doing all day. At least, that’s what I tell myself so I feel okay about spending all this money on coffee. 

The car ride over there was quick enough. I lived on the outskirts of the city, but this place has the best coffee, and I would drive a ridiculous amount of time to get to it. No matter the distance, it would be worth it. 

And maybe...just maybe…I would see that guy that comes in sometimes. The one with the messy hair and the sweater vests. He was so intriguing. I don’t even know his name, but I always notice when he comes in while I’m there. It was pretty much impossible not to. Hopefully one day I would work up the nerve to talk to him. Maybe that day would be today. 

I walked in the building, and the smell of coffee and sweets immediately hit me. It was so comforting. Almost like a tiny sanctuary away from home, and I was always so appreciative. 

As soon as the little bell on the door rang, the barista behind the counter looked up and shot me a smile. They recognized me quite often. 

“Hey, (Y/N), the usual?” she called from across the floor. 

“You know it,” I said with a wink. 

I took my favorite seat in the shop and looked around. It was pretty empty today, which was just the way I like it. It means less time to wait for my coffee and I can sit in peace. The only thing that would make it better is if that guy came in and I got my big girl pants on to ask him his name. 

After a few minutes, my coffee was brought to me and I handed the waiter some cash for my order, with a good amount leftover for a tip. His smile was bright and thankful, and it made me hopeful for today.

Each time the door opened and another person walked in, my heart skipped a beat. I stopped counting when I got to 10 people that turned out not to be him. It irked me more than I care to admit. 

I was starting to lose hope, staring daggers at the dregs of my leftover coffee. Perhaps I thought I would find him there? I just wanted to see him. 

A tap on my shoulder drew me out of my thoughts. Well, it startled me out of them more like. With a gasp, I jumped and looked up at the person who tapped on me. It was the barista who greeted me and made my coffee. Sophie. My favorite barista to spill all my problems to. 

“You okay? You look like you’re really thinking hard about something.”

I sighed and almost smiled at how ridiculous I was being. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. And I was thinking about something. Can you sit for a minute?”

She nodded, “I’m on break, thankfully.”

Once she took her seat across from me at the tiny table, I wrapped my fingers around the now room temperature coffee cup in front of me. 

“So, what’s up? What could you possibly be thinking about that’s got you looking like that?”

“Um, well. There’s this guy…”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward a bit, as if to ask me to continue. 

“You might have seen him in here before. He comes in as much as I do, which is why I noticed him.”

“What does he look like?”

“Well, he’s tall. He wears sweaters a lot...um…oh, his hair is kind of messy, but in a cute way. And he has this dumb little satchel he carries sometimes-”

“Does he look like that guy?” Sophie asked as she pointed behind me. 

I followed where her finger was pointing by the door and sure enough, he was there. But he was there with another girl I had never seen him with before. She had dark hair and striking eyes, along with a certain air about her that just gave off badass vibes. Of course he would have a girlfriend. And a gorgeous one at that. 

I turned back to Sophie quickly before he noticed me staring. 

“Uh, yeah. That would be him. But I’ve never seen that girl before. It figures, though. Just my luck.”

The pair began walking farther into the shop, talking quietly as they approached the counter to order. The more they talked and smiled at each other, the more my heart seemed to falter. 

“Oh, (Y/N),” Sophie said quietly so only I would hear, “I’m so sorry.” 

I didn’t respond to her. I didn’t have to. The look in my eyes was enough to let her know what I was thinking and feeling. 

Her break was about to be over, so she placed a hand gently on top of mine, and with a small smile, left me there. 

Well, there was only one thing left to do. Get another coffee, and maybe something sweet to drown my sorrows in. 

I took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing my empty cup to throw away when I got to the front to order. I didn’t see them anywhere now. They must have ordered already and found a seat. But truthfully, I didn’t look around for them long. I didn’t want to. 

I ordered a black coffee and a doughnut, and waited for a second for them to hand me my order instead of going back to my table to wait. Sometimes they put too much creamer in the coffee, so this way I could go over to the cream and sugar stand and make it myself. 

Coffee and doughnut in hand, I made my way over to the small fridge they left out for customers to put in their own creamer and milk. I wasn’t really feeling the flavored seasonal creamers they had, so I just grabbed the half and half and started pouring. I didn’t really want any sugar either. I had my doughnut, which I probably wouldn’t even eat to be honest. My stomach was in knots. 

A sudden voice behind me knocked me out of my thoughts. 

“All cream, no sugar, huh? I’m the total opposite.”

I was so startled that my hand seemed to seize up, causing me to jerk the carton of half and half away from the cup. Now there was liquid all over the counter. 

“Oh. I’m so sorry- Here, let me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I still hadn’t looked at who was talking to me, so when the footsteps got closer and I felt someone next to me, I decided I should finally look up. 

It was him. The guy. The one I came here for. Except now he was standing right next to me. 

He grabbed a handful of paper towels and started wiping up the mess on the counter while I stood wide-eyed and in shock. I should probably say something. 

“I’m so sorry. I was...thinking about something and you startled me. I feel so clumsy.”

He looked up at me with a hint of a smile on his face. 

“No, it’s really my fault. I’m not good at talking to people.” 

Once he had finished cleaning up, he threw the paper towels away and turned back towards me. 

“What’s your name? I see you in here sometimes. I guess you could say we’re both regulars.”

A lump formed in my throat that I had to swallow down forcefully. He saw me in here sometimes? He noticed me? Did he ever see me looking at him? Oh no. 

“Um, my name is (Y/N). I see you in here sometimes too. The coffee here is really good, yeah?”

He smiled again, but bigger and more pronounced this time. Nodding his head, he shifted his bag and looked back at me. 

“My name’s Spencer. It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

Now it was my turn to smile. This was going pretty good, all things considered. It’s too bad about that girl he’s with, though. Speaking of the girl, she was walking towards us right now. Fantastic. Just what my anxiety needed. 

“Spencer, we just got a call. Did you not pay attention to your phone?” the woman said in a hurry as she came closer. 

Spencer jumped a bit and started to dig in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and laughed nervously. 

“I have it on silent. Whoops.” 

The woman rolled her eyes and then seemed to notice me standing there. 

“Ohh, I see. You had it on mute so you could talk to this girl you were telling me about, hmm? Better hope I don’t tell Hotch”

Spencer opened and closed his mouth a few times, and I was simply shocked. He wanted to talk to me? Like, on purpose? He told this woman about me?

“I’ll meet you outside, Emily,” Spencer groaned at her.

The woman named Emily smiled at me and winked before leaving. So now it was just me and Spencer, standing awkwardly together. Great. 

“I, um...ignore her. She’s a colleague from work...and apparently my wing woman now.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. So she was just a friend. I had gotten myself all sad and anxious for nothing. Honestly, that’s typical for me though, so…

I could only smile. So much so that it made my cheeks hurt. 

“So, do you have to leave? For work or something?”

Spencer shifted his weight nervously.

“Yeah, I um, yeah I’m sorry. I really would like to stay and talk more. I hope you don’t find it weird I told her about you, by the way. I just notice you in here a lot and I think you’re really pretty and I just-”

He cut himself off suddenly and looked at me sadly.

“I have to go, but here.” 

Hurriedly, he pulled out a scrap piece of paper from his bag and a pen. He leaned over the counter and quickly wrote his name and number on the paper and handed it to me somewhat forcefully. 

“Text me or call me...you know, if you want. Um, I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

He turned on his heel and began walking towards the door. 

“Spencer!” I called across the shop.

Spencer stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me, almost with an excited glint in his eye.

I held the paper he gave me gently in my hand and took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart.

“I noticed you, too.”

[allygodot]

Taking Accountability

My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee. I’m a 27 years old graduate of Chicago Law School living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am a heterosexual Christian, but am an ally to the LGBT community. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. These are all things my followers should know about me, so why am I telling you this? Well... what if I told you it was all a lie? I’m sure this is coming as a shock to a lot of you, and I sincerely apologize to everyone I’ve hurt with my deception. It is my hope that this post will clear up any misconceptions that have been spread about me, whether I spread them myself or otherwise, and that in the future there will be no animosity between us. I don’t expect to be forgiven nor do I deserve it, but if there is one thing I learned from my time in the church it is that all I can do is ask for mercy and hope for the best. But first... I think an explanation is in order. If all that isn’t the truth, then what is? It all starts in college, that nebulous period of my life that everyone keeps asking about and I keep bringing up. Before I went to university, I had always been completely unremarkable. I had always had the kind of fair weather friends who enjoyed my company, but never felt to invested in me. Combined with my status as a middle child, I always felt like I had something to prove to get people to like me. I would say and think whatever I needed to for them to stick around another day, and I’m sure you are familiar with what that means for teenage boys. I acted immaturely because it was what was expected... and anything outside of that was looked down upon it even forbidden. I never thought much of it at the time, but I realize now that I wasn’t allowed much self-expression when I was always trying to conform to their standards. Everything changed when I met him. My assigned college roommate, Anton, was everything my years of conditioning had taught me to distrust. Despite his tall stature, he was emotional and sensitive... even vulnerable. Even so, he wasn’t afraid to be unabashedly himself. The first thing that struck me as unusual about him was his clothing... he almost always wore pastel pink or yellow and I hardly ever saw him without his long, checkered scarf. His nails were always painted with a clear, glittery polish, and I don’t think he ever skipped a shower in his life. His hair was always soft and smelled like strawberry even at a distance... all this to say he immediately struck me as fruity so I wanted nothing to do with him, at least initially. Despite his kindness to me, I would always respond with either the cold shoulder or open scorn, which only amplified the more I learned about him. I discovered pretty quickly that he was a furry, since one day I came home from a day of classes to find a decapitated pink cat head on our couch. He patiently explained the whole culture to me while I glared at him skeptically, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He even brought out his paws and tail and told me he was saving up for a full suit despite my open disgust. Looking back, I still have no clue why he put up with me during that time. Another curious aspect of Anton’s life was his addiction to a certain television series called “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” His room was filled with merchandise from stuffed animals to figurines, and I had nothing but disdain for the tacky and embarrassing decoration. I was afraid that if I ever brought a girl over to our apartment she would notice and make all sorts of incorrect assumptions... I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. I tried on multiple occasions to convince him to hide them in a secret box or something, but he always just smiled and shook his head. I even tried to sneak into his room and collect all the ponies for donation once, but he had anticipated this and hid a playful trap for me... I reached forward to grab one of his overpriced statues and immediately got a face full of multi-colored snakes. I was livid of course, despite it being my own fault for trying to pawn of his collection in the first place, but he wasn’t even phased by my tirade. I suppose he was 6’5” and I was (and still am) only 5′7″... but still, I had at least expected him to be somewhat apologetic if not fearful. Instead, he just laughed and told me I should watch the show with him sometime. I obviously had no intentions of taking him up on his ludicrous offer... until he promised that if I didn’t enjoy the show, he would move all of his ponies into a case that he would throw a big curtain on whenever I said the word. I reluctantly agreed on those conditions, positive that this was a bet I couldn’t lose. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. He lead me into the pony chamber and sat down on his bed, taking out his laptop to pull up his favorite episode. It was “The Canterlot Wedding” two part season finale, and although I initially protested that I only agreed to watch one episode, I eventually relented once he reminded me what the prize was. I was hesitant to sit beside him on his bed and lean over his shoulder to look at the small screen, but he assured me that it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t particularly concerned with how he felt about it... it was more so my own pride I was worried about. Nevertheless, I sat through the whole episode with him despite myself. Although I was disturbed by the tendency for his long and curly hair to gravitate into my mouth while I rested my cheek against his shoulder, I found the episode to be surprisingly enjoyable. The song in particular surprised me with it’s musicality... by the end of it I didn’t want to leave, but I was far too embarrassed to admit that to him earnestly. I told him I was interested in the show purely for the songs and that it could benefit my studies as a music major, but that he still had to uphold his end of the bargain since I was by no means enjoying it. He just smiled and put on another episode, and before I knew it the sun was rising outside his window. I realized just how tired I was and turned to tell him I would be going to bed only to discover he had fallen asleep. I began to suspect that he must have been asleep for several hours, letting the auto-play functionality do his job for him while he rested up for his exams. Although I was scandalized, I was impressed by his tactical prowess... he had managed to trap me in his room, since I couldn’t move from my spot without disturbing his slumber, and he didn’t even have to be awake to do it. Begrudgingly, I spent the rest of his room, until eventually the faint aroma of strawberries lured me into the world of dreams... This arrangement continued for quite some time. When I got home from my classes, Anton would ask me if I wanted to watch some My Little Pony with him and I only agreed so long as he put the curtain over the cabinet next time I asked. He always obliged whenever I asked him to conceal his collection, but eventually I stopped asking for him to do so and only reminded him not to break our contract before every episode out of habit. It became a ritual for the two of us to do this every night, and even once we had finished all of the episodes we would just watch them again. I found that I was becoming endeared to this eccentric man... and as much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell a bit in my chest whenever he would run his fingers through his hair or tighten his scarf around his neck. I told myself it was nothing... but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. I don’t know what possessed me, but one night I thought I would get to know Anton a little better. I started by asking if he was single, which to me seemed like an innocuous question, but the very fact I was asking seemed to amuse him. He told me that he was having trouble finding a guy who wasn’t immediately turned off by all the ponies, and I made sure to snidely comment that he shouldn’t be going out with guys anyway even though it made my heart skip a beat when he said that, as well as mention that if he would just give up his collection there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he asked me the same thing: how was my love life going, especially considering my new hobby? I couldn’t help but get flustered and start making excuses. I told him that there was no shortage of girls lined up to date me, but that I just wasn’t ready to make a commitment yet. I spun a whole story about how a girlfriend would only hold me back... I almost forgot that the standard that Anton accepted was completely different from my old teenage friends. He wasn’t impressed that girls were apparently lining up to get a piece of me... he just seemed amused that I thought such a thing was realistic, much less desirable. He didn’t understand that compulsive need to lie at all... he thought it would be better if more guys admitted that they were vulnerable. That was the first time I’d ever heard someone say something like that... I suddenly felt extremely exposed, and before I knew it my eyes were full of tears. My first instinct was to cover my face with my sleeve and hide my shame, but he was already firmly gripping my arm and holding it in place. He told me that I didn’t need to hide anything from him. He asked me if there was anything he could do to help me... and so for what felt like the first time in my life, I told the truth. It was supposed to be just to try it. I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it, I just thought that if I got it out of my system all of the unnecessary feelings would finally stop tormenting me... but all they did was grow stronger. I kept telling him that I was still looking for a girlfriend and that once I got one this whole arrangement would end, but eventually I realized that there was no point in lying to myself anymore. I wasn’t ever even sleeping in my own room anymore. I hadn’t so much as glanced at any dating websites in weeks. I was committed, whether I wanted to admit it or not... and I didn’t want to admit it. I only wish that I had told him how I really felt when I had the chance... One of the many things we started to share, which seemed the most inconsequential to me at the time, was a webpage. Anton was the owner of a small subreddit dedicated to My Little Pony fursuits, and he asked me if I would be willing to help him moderate. It wasn’t something I felt qualified to speak as an authority on, since even as I became more open about my love for ponies I still didn’t really feel connected to furry culture despite accompanying him to several conventions, but I was willing to do basically anything just to please him. My job was mostly to stop people from publicly “yiffing,” and although it was a grueling line of work it wasn’t thankless. Anton was a poet with words of affirmation. Many of the compliments he paid me were certainly undeserved, but they motivated me more than anything else ever had... but I got too zealous. There was a certain user on the server who for the sake of protecting privacy, we shall call XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX. As a member of the subreddit they were of course a brony and a furry, but what made them stand out was their dedication to the Flutterdash ship. They were constantly posting couple’s cosplays of themselves dressed as Rainbow Dash, but the Fluttershy in each picture was always different. They were also exceptionally sociable and aggressively tried to make friends with everyone on the tiny subreddit... Anton and I included. I wasn’t so keen on pursuing another friendship that could very well ruin my reputation, but of course Anton was immediately taken with the idea. The two of them exchanged contacts and hit it off instantly, and I started having trouble sleeping at night because he was awake in the early hours of the morning texting his friend in another timezone. He always paid me just as much attention as always during the daytime, but once he saw that his new friend was online he would crawl out of bed to go converse with them in another room. He was trying so hard to be considerate of me, and perhaps it was selfish for me to expect that I would always be able to sense his warmth and scent beside me while I slept... but at the time I was blinded by jealousy. One fateful morning, he excitedly woke me up to tell me that XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX had gifted him tickets to a major convention, and that the two of them were planning to cosplay Flutterdash together. He apologetically explained that he would be gone for a few days since the convention was halfway across the country, but sensing the disturbance within me he assured me that he could probably convince his friend to let me tag along as Applejack... she was always my least favorite. It didn’t matter what Anton said to encourage me, because I was never going to accept any consolation until this threat to our sacred relationship was eliminated. I had to find a way to get rid of XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX by any means necessary... In a fit of rage, I whipped out the ban hammer and beat my rival to death with it, metaphorically speaking. It was a blatant abuse of my privilege as a moderator and I am ashamed to admit it now... but at the time all that mattered was covering up the evidence. I knew I had to come up with an excuse for why I had banned them, so I added a new rule to the subreddit: Flutterdash was prohibited. The news was not met with acceptance from the other members of the community. To some more in the loop with the situation, it was obvious that I had only banned XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX because of a petty personal dispute, but others saw it as nothing but an unfair rule. I was accused of being biased towards other ships like Flutterchord or Appledash and that I needed to accept other people’s ship preferences, or even that I was homophobic and couldn’t handle the thought of lesbian characters in my favorite show. Chants of “mods are gay” could be heard across the subreddit from all sides of the debate, and everyone was rallying for Anton to remove me as a tyrannical moderator. Sound familiar? I can’t help but notice some similarities between my situation and Mo the one over at Kristahlia Week... maybe that is why the drama captivated me so.  Anton tried to reason with me, bless his heart, but at this point I had completely devolved back into my screaming teenager mentality to cope with all the rejection. He was obviously disappointed in me for what I had done but he had no reason to believe it would ruin us... he couldn’t have handled it better. It really was my fault that things happened the way they did, but I refused to take accountability. What I told him still haunts my conscience to this day, even six years later. I told him that I never loved him, and that I was only using his companionship to fulfill my carnal desires. I told him that I didn’t care about what he did with his life as long as he didn’t do anything that kept him away from me. I even told him that I still thought he was disgusting and embarrassing. And the worst thing is... in that moment I meant every word. I was so selfish... I genuinely forgot that I loved him and treated him like he only existed to serve me. My actions were truly despicable and I deserved to suffer for it... and I did. For the first time, I saw Anton cry. I should have been there to comfort him like he did for me on that fateful night, but instead I let him run out of the house to go suffer by himself. By the time I realized how horrible I was acting, it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. I came home the next day to discover all the ponies in the apartment finally gone... isn’t that what I had wanted? My moderator status on the subreddit had been stripped away, and I had been banned by all of the members of the group on nearly every social media platform. Another classmate later informed me that Anton had transferred to a different college... and that was the end. I have no idea what happened to him after that, but I can only hope he is doing well. Instead of taking this as an omen that I should improve my behavior, I began to become even more bitter than I was before I met Anton. I acted like my relationship with him was just an experimental phase that was doomed to fail from the start, and soon I was denying that it ever even happened at all. I convinced myself that the problem in our relationship was that I wasn’t supposed to be with men, and so I began to insist that I was straight and aggressively seek out relationships with women just to prove it to myself. I also started searching for strict moral codes that could give direction to my life... which is when I found the Church. I was attracted to their beliefs because they gave a very clear outline for how someone’s life should go and promised ultimate happiness to anyone who could fulfill the requirements, so I began to obsess over meeting those requirements. I wanted a Christian wife that could bear me many children not because that is how I wanted to live my life, but because that is how other people wanted me to live my life... and all I wanted was for others to tell me I was doing something right. The congregation was distrusting if me at first, and although they never said it to my face I know it was because they were aware of my past. Hardly a woman would come near me, and looking back on it I can’t say I blame them. The ones who were desperate enough for a husband to give me a shot were quirky repulsed by my egotistical behavior, which certainly didn’t help my reputation. Throughout all this, I still somehow told myself I was the victim because I didn’t want to admit that I had become the villain again. For a long time, the only person in the parish who would willingly hold a conversation with me was Lana. She was a fellow member of the choir and a devout believer in God, but she was often judged by the rest of the congregation for being an open lesbian despite her faith. She tried to convince me on several occasions that I didn’t have to perform any sort of identity to impress anyone and that I should “just be myself,” but I insisted that I knew what I was talking about. Eventually, she decided my well-being wasn’t her responsibility and gave up on trying to reason with me, but nonetheless she still treated me more kindly then many of the other churchgoers. I believe that my “dark past” is what drew Gabriella to me in the first place. She likely hoped that we could act as covers for each other until she figured some way out of her situation, but unfortunately I was too far gone to be of any help. I convinced myself that she was really in love with me and that she would be walking down the aisle soon enough. Whether or not I was really interested in her or just interested in what she represented I’m still not sure... but she truly was a wonderful person who didn’t deserve to have to suffer through my baggage. When she left me I was truly devastated... so much so that I even began to go through another crisis of belief that I recorded on this very blog. All I have to add is that I no longer bear any resentment towards Lana or Gabriella, and only wish them the best of luck. My relationship with Krissy began almost immediately after my breakup with Gabriella. I was desperate to regain the status I supposed that I had lost along with my girlfriend, so I latched onto the first woman who showed me any sort of positive attention. Her death and my downward spiral are all well-documented on this blog. I didn’t want to blame myself for her passing as well, so I developed a conspiracy to rationalize the whole ordeal. I even tried to act like a completely different person to try to keep the blame as mentally distant from myself as possible, but that didn’t work either. In the end, this is my cross to bear alone. So that brings us to now. What will become of allygodot? The truth is, I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t think that is the most important thing right now. I realized last night when I was looking at that art of Diego and Godot as Happy Tree Friends characters that I desperately wanted to be anyone other than myself... it really opened my eyes to the level of repression that had been burdening me since the incident six years ago. I realized that if I wanted to change, sitting around and thinking about how things could hypothetically be different isn’t going to do anything. If I want to make progress and truly become a better person, I’m going to have to act better, not just tell myself that I am. From now on, I will be defining myself on my actions and not my beliefs, as wise man once said. I hope that soon, I will have become a good enough person to meet Anton face to face again... I still love him after all these years, and even though I expect that he justifiably won’t want anything to do with me anymore, I still think that it is a guilt that needs to be resolved. If I ever come back to this blog, it’ll be as a different Adam to the one you thought that you knew. It’ll be as the Adam I’m trying to become... the true Adam that I know exists deep within me... Not allygodot, but as proudgodot. My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee or Godot. I’m a 27 years old former music student living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am bisexual. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

[bisexualhobi]

The ask that said armys are so “booked and busy” annoyed me so much. Like that phrasing. Who booked you? Why are you selling your soul to hybe for free? Busy? Stop treating it like it’s your job. Stop guilt tripping people into spending their time on bts related things. Just because you don’t have a life outside of bts doesn’t mean I have to do the same. This is what I want to say to those people. Of course, it’s not just them but hybe and bts also push this on their fans. It’s like they become your world. I remember there were days where I couldn’t go even a few minutes without thinking about bts. I now look back and see how unhealthy that was. I became an army when I was a teenager, I was young and impressionable and I used to feel so bad when I didn’t stream so and so vlive or watch all of the bon voyages like others were (which I still haven’t and never plan to). The way the fans do it is subtle and I think they don’t realize it themselves but there is such a culture around just dropping everything you’re doing and consuming as much content as possible. I never fully felt like I was an army cuz I was kind of bad at doing these things. And sometimes I feel like it’s almost a competition between fans to see who knows the most about their faves. I used to procrastinate at everything. I actually remember having a list of things to do and amongst the school stuff was written - watch run episode xx. Like it was literally a task to me and I used to force myself to do it. And I never ended up doing anything and just felt even more guilty. But sometimes it would be the opposite and I couldn’t control myself and binge watch their stuff. I remember genuinely being scared that bts would comeback during exam season. And they did. With fake love of all things I was so screwed.

And I remember you posted about this person on twitter telling people to skip school for NCT or something. It’s things like these that really get to me now that I’m an adult. I wish I could go back and tell myself that no one is forcing me to do this and that I have a choice. It doesn’t make you any less of a fan if you don’t overdose yourself with all of their content. It wouldn’t have stopped me from watching BTS’s videos but I would have definitely felt less guilty all the time. Especially considering the trend that companies have with releasing an overwhelming amount of content in kpop. Go do your homework kiddo. Go watch that movie you wanted to watch instead of brainwashing yourself into liking an uninteresting video of your fav brushing his teeth or something. That doesn’t go without saying that yeah sometimes it’s fun to do these things. I remember my friend freaking out when watching serendipity’s release in the school toilets or staying up late at night to watch the first time they went to the bbmas (I fell asleep). It’s all good fun and I have good memories. So of course at the end of the day you can go ahead and spend your time on whatever you want. But remember it’s your choice not someone else’s. Don’t give up your precious time for nothing.

FOMO is real, and kpop is built around cashing in on that feeling. for real.

i thank god i didn't have kpop when i was a teen (sorry to everyone that is normal and could experience kpop as a precious memory of their teen years) because i would have flunked out of school probably. i have a personality that tends to be obsessive and when i was undiagnosed in high school it was worse. the fact that i could get into kpop until i was 24 makes it better because my brain is now fully developed lol. the problem is the millions of vulnerable and malleable teens that - especially with the pandemic - have no other outlet or leisure activity other than kpop.

ig in general you could make this case for fandom culture at large but tbh no matter how many ppl say it's "racist" to single out kpop the truth is the kpop machinery is especially heinous *law and order voice*

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Last Christmas

AN: Listening to Christmas songs in September is totally normal, right? I was inspired by a couple of songs and I’m procrastinating even though I should really study for some upcoming exams but I had to finish this first. Please enjoy this angsty fluff (is that even a thing?) with one of our favorite Hockey Hunks™.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: There might be a swear word or two and one mention of sex but that’s it

My other writing can be found here

For the first time since the move you finally felt at home and not out of place. To anyone it might only be a regular Wednesday but to you it was more than that. Today marked the day you’d finally managed to clear out the last few boxes, ridding yourself of the only remaining evidence that proved you were alone in a new city, a new country.

You wouldn’t stay alone for long though, your new job was set to start on Monday and you’d always made friends fairly fast so you weren’t worried in the slightest, instead enjoying the quiet that was your apartment for now.

With Christmas less than a month away you’d finally managed to decorate the apartment accordingly and to say you were proud would be an understatement. Picking out a Christmas tree by yourself had been an adult awakening, something you’d always dreamt about. 

When you were younger you had imagined a certain someone with you so you could decorate side by side but that hadn’t been an option in years. Although with the move it could be, but you quickly pushed that thought out of your head.

Locating the box with the decorations - some you’d stolen from home - had taken quite a while but as you held the hand-painted angel that had once belonged to your great-grandmother in your hands all trouble was forgotten. You’d have to climb on a stool or something to get it on top of the tree but for now you carefully set it aside, taking a look at your surroundings instead. 

The string lights made your apartment glow in warm light that only added to the appeal of the city lights shining in through the big windows. The new job had come with a very attractive signing bonus and while the place wasn’t huge, the modern finishes had made you fall in love instantly.

You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed because you’d been so immersed in decorating and cleaning but the sun had long set and your supper had been quite a while ago. The TV was still on from when you’d turned it on for some background noise, not really paying attention but instead focusing on humming along to your Christmas playlist.

You put on some water and quickly changed into a pair of comfortable leggings and your favorite sweatshirt from your time at Dalhousie University so you could spend the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch with a mug of tea and continue the series you’d started to binge watch a couple of weeks ago. You’d only just pulled the hem of the sweatshirt down your body when you heard your doorbell ring.

Who would show up at your apartment unannounced at this time?

You quickly made your way back into the living space and over to the door so you could check the peep-hole, your heart skipping a beat once you realized who was on the other side of the door. For a second you contemplated simply not opening, but while you were many things in your life, a coward wasn’t one of them. 

You knew he could tell that you were home from the music still playing over the speakers and the lights probably escaping your apartment through the slit below the door so you didn’t hesitate long before unlocking the door with shaky hands and swinging it open.

Seeing him again, leaning against the wall opposite your apartment door, was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water at your face. As soon as he realized that you’d actually opened the door he practically jumped from his spot and took two big steps until he was standing a lot closer to you. 

You looked up at him, really looked up at him and with him standing there, looking so much like the Pierre you knew but so differently at the same time you felt yourself being catapulted to the day that changed your life all these years ago.

NHL Entry Draft Day back in 2016.

You weren’t religious by any means and you only ever went to church on Christmas out of a feeling of obligation towards your parents but God had you prayed for Pierre to stay close to you. It hadn’t been fair to him, you were well aware of that but for one day you allowed yourself to be selfish. You knew that he was living his dream, finally getting to play in the NHL like he’d always said he would but you were also thinking about your dreams. Dreams that involved him by your side.

Perhaps you were to blame for this mess. It was you who had fallen for the funny hockey player almost two years ago after all, knowing full well that he had big dreams that didn’t really mesh well with yours to go to university in Halifax, a place your family had gone to for ages.

You’d secretly hoped that perhaps Ottawa or Montreal would select him, even if he deserved to be picked long before it was their turn. But at least he’d be at least somewhat close to you then. When he’d been picked third by Columbus you’d been so shocked that you barely remembered kissing him on live television. You’d watched him get on that stage and put on the jersey but instead of crying happy tears at the sight of his dream coming true, you were crying because you knew that this was most likely the beginning of the end of your relationship. 

There’d be well over 2.000 kilometers between the two of you sometime soon and although you’d prepared yourself for this for weeks it still hurt more than you could ever imagine. But you still smiled at him all these hours later when you finally got to see him again, telling him how incredibly proud you were.

You tried your best to enjoy that summer, knowing full well that it might be your last one with him. With fall approaching he helped you move your stuff to Halifax while preparing for his own departure to Columbus. 

A departure that didn’t come though, because he hadn’t made the roster for the 2016-2017 season and had instead been sent back to play in Sydney, something that had devastated him.

To say that it was hard would put it mildly. You were over four hours away from him and your home and with your new life picking up keeping in touch kept getting more and more difficult. With his travels for the team and your classes you barely saw each other, a series of missed calls and late responses really the only thing that connected you to him. Christmas was the first time you’d seen him in three weeks but you still made the best of it, spending time with him every day and for a little while things were like they used to be.

When he told you that he’d been traded to Boisbriand afterwards you knew that this was it. Pierre had known as well, the defeated look in his eyes mirroring your own and giving him away. 

So you’d said your goodbyes, wanting to end things on a good note instead of going through another string of ‘Sorry I couldn’t pick up the phone earlier but call me back when you get this’ and constantly feeling left out. You’d cried, as did Pierre when you hugged him one last time, him desperately wiping your tears away and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaving.

He’d ruined hockey for you then, the sport you once loved and spent so much time watching. No more time spent at the rink cuddled under your blanket and gossiping with the other girlfriends but you didn’t miss it as much as you missed him. 

You couldn’t even bear to watch him on TV so you’d missed when he scored his first NHL goal during his very first game in the league and all the other ones that followed. It was only when the Blue Jackets had their playoff run earlier this year that you’d finally managed to look at his face on your screen, over two years after you’d last seen him in person.

But now he was here, standing in front of you again.

“I-“, he began before stopping himself, rubbing his hand over his face before dropping it back down to his side and continuing, “I’m sorry for just barging in like this but my mom told me you moved here and I didn’t see it until after the game but I just had to come see for myself. Apparently our families still talk..”

You finally allowed yourself to properly looking at him, trailing your eyes over the features that were once so familiar. He’d grown a bit since you’d last seen him, not just in height but he was also a lot bulkier and more muscular than he used to be, filling out the suit jacket that sat snugly around his shoulders. He must have come straight from the game, hair still a bit wet and curlier than ever, a black pea coat folded over his arm and a duffel bag slung around his torso. You felt a bit out of place in your comfortable clothes compared to his suit that was probably designer but then you scolded yourself because this was Pierre and he’d seen you a lot worse.

“Yeah I know. I ran into your mom this summer when she was in our kitchen for a wine night they apparently have regularly.” You didn’t tell him how hard it had been to not ask about how he was doing and instead make bland small talk before you could finally disappear to your old room.

How could your parents not be friends anymore after your mothers had once joked about wanting a wine bar exclusively for them at your wedding? You didn’t blame your mom for telling his mother either, you knew that she only had good intentions and she’d always wanted the two of you to get back together.

In fact you weren’t completely innocent in the situation either. It was you who had applied for a position in Columbus after graduating this year after all, thoughts of what could be in the back of your mind even if you were adamant about denying it.

“You look good Y/N. I didn’t think it was possible but you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were the last time I saw you.”

You were about to remind him that the last time he’d seen you your eyes had been all red and puffy from crying – which was anything but beautiful – but before you could even get one word out the vintage kettle you had put on the stove to make tea let out its loud screeching noise, indicating that the water was done. You weren’t about to be rude and just Leave Pierre in the hallway just like that so without a second thought you invited him inside before turning around to take the kettle off the stove.

“Do you want some tea as well?”, you asked on a whim, not really knowing what else to do with the stranger that wasn’t really a stranger standing in the middle of your living room. He’d taken his shoes off by the door, apparently still remembering how you much you hated it when people wore shoes indoors and you watched him carefully drape his coat over the back of a chair.

“Sure, thanks.”

You took out a second mug and carefully poured the tea over the tea bags, the scent soon filling the apartment. It was the same tea you always drank during the winter months, ever since you were a little kid. Pierre grabbed the second mug off the counter from next to you and quickly took a peak at the label before giving you a knowing smile. You’d made that tea for the both of you so many times that this felt almost normal, even if your current situation was anything but.

“I’m sorry that you guys lost tonight”, you said to fill the silence that was now falling over the apartment. He looked over with a surprised look, raising his eyebrows.

“You watched the game?”

“Not all of it. I was busy decorating and doing other stuff around the apartment but I turned it on and checked the score from time to time”, you admitted sheepishly, raising the mug to your face in pretense of blowing to battle the boiling hot water but actually hiding away from his attentive stare. He’d looked at you all kinds of ways over your years with him but you had never been nervous because of it, except for that one night with him where he’d seen you naked for the first time and you’d lost your virginities to each other.

Thinking about sex with him wasn’t helping your cause either though because while the first few times had been a little awkward but still fun, the two of you quickly improved and the images of him above you or his head between your legs were only turning your cheeks even more red.

He seemed to drop the subject, thankfully, and instead moved over towards the Christmas tree, admiring your work. You slowly followed him, mug closely clutched to your chest and sat down on the sofa, admiring the way he looked in your apartment instead. The time apart had treated him well and while it was a bit weird to see him with a beard outside of playoffs there was no denying that he looked better than ever.

“I see you still like to live in an environment that resembles hell temperature wise”, he chuckled before he put down his own mug on the couch table and shrugged off his suit jacket. You tried your best not to stare as he popped open the first two bottoms of his shirt before moving on to roll up his sleeves while sitting down a respectable distance away but you were unsuccessful. For the first time you saw his tattoos, as his skin had been innocent and bare up until your breakup but you couldn’t ignore how good he looked with them. Your hands were itching to trace the patterns and because you didn’t entirely trust yourself to be able to control yourself you sat on them to avoid any embarrassment.

You hadn’t even realized that your Christmas playlist had continued playing over the speakers until the familiar opening tunes of “Last Christmas” filled the apartment. You quickly jumped up, reaching for your phone so you could stop the music from playing. It reminded you too much of the last Christmas you’d had with Pierre, now almost three years ago. You’d given him your heart and while he hadn’t exactly given it away he’d still broken it when he’d left.

When you turned back around you noticed the slight blush that painted his cheeks, he’d apparently come to the same realization as you. For a moment the silence was uncomfortable and you were reminded of the time right before the breakup when you didn’t know what to say or do around him, always walking on eggshells for fear of losing him. You’d lost him either way but that was beside the point.

Pierre cleared his throat before speaking up, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Y/N I- I have to ask. Why are you here?”

You knew that you should just be honest and tell him that you were in a way here because of him but you weren’t ready to take that kind of leap just yet. You hadn’t kept up with his personal life for fear of finding something you couldn’t bear and for all you knew he could have a girlfriend right now.

“Well why are you?”, you simply responded instead, leaning back on the couch so you could properly gauge his reaction. You weren’t the one who had knocked on his door late at night.

“Fair enough, I guess”, he huffed before running his hand over his face in the way that had once been so familiar to you.

“When I read that text from my mom, telling me that you lived in Columbus now – that you weren’t thousands of kilometers away anymore I just had to see you. I called my mom to ask if she had your address and you have no idea how smug she sounded when she said she’d text it to me.”

You chuckled at his exasperated expression, knowing full well how his mother could be but stayed quiet to let him continue.

“The team knows about you as well and if I even told you half the shit I had to listen to when I practically sprinted out of the locker room you wouldn’t believe me.”

This made you laugh out loud and when you saw him smile at you fondly your heart skipped a beat for the second time that night.

“What I’m actually trying to say – but failing miserably at – is that I never really got over you and seeing you know only confirmed that. I can’t believe I let you go all these years ago, I was an idiot for thinking I could do it without you because I was absolutely miserable after leaving you”, he finished and you hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying until he reached up to gently wipe your tears away.

“Look I know that we can’t just continue like nothing happened but please bébé, please give me a second chance. I won’t leave you again, I promise.” The fact that he’d used the pet name he’d given you when you first started dating was all it took for you to leap towards him. He wrapped his arms around you as well, creating that perfect cocoon of Pierre that you’d missed so much. When he kissed your forehead this time you couldn’t feel your heart breaking, instead the warmth that flooded your body only glued all those pieces back together.

You knew that there was still a chance that he’d get traded again and that because of his job he’d have to spend quite some time on the road but you’d been miserable after he’d left as well. At least this time you’d know that he’d always come back for you.

“I’m so glad that our mothers love their wine nights and gossip, otherwise you never would’ve knocked at my door and I never would’ve gotten you back.”

“So we’re really doing this? We’re trying again?”, he asked, pulling you back at arm’s length so he could properly take a look at you. You nodded, not being able to stop the big smile spreading on your face.

“Would it be completely out of place if I kissed you right now?”

“Not at all”, you responded before crawling closer towards him until you straddled his lap. His hands reached up to cup your face, thumbs wiping the last of your tears away – happy tears this time – and then he finally pulled you in for a kiss.

Nothing felt more like coming home than kissing Pierre.

The way his lips moved against yours was so familiar that you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss, reaching up for his shoulders so you could ground yourself in him while simultaneously getting lost in the way his body felt against yours. He buried his hands in your hair and his beard was scratching your skin but you didn’t care, instead letting him pull you closer and deepening the kiss until the only thought you could form was IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoustill.

Eventually you had to pull away though, both of you panting at the lack of air and the closeness of your bodies. It had been so long since you’d last felt his breath fan across your face like this, seen the look in his eyes as he looked at you with absolute wonder but it was as if nothing had changed, the two of you easily picking up where you left off.

“You know that our moms are gonna take credit for that, right? We’re never gonna hear the end of it”, he suddenly groaned and you giggled at his exasperated tone.

“I can live with that as long as it means that I get to have you with me again.”

He pulled you in for another sweet kiss before letting you go again, smiling up at you. You watched his gaze shift to something behind you, twisting your body in his lap so you could see what had caught his attention.

“Is that the Y/L/N Christmas angel? Did you steal it?” He stood up with you still in his lap, slowly putting you down before walking over to where you’d set the decoration earlier.

“It is but I didn’t steal it. Mom gave it to me so I’d have a piece of home with me. I’m not tall enough to put it on the top though and I haven’t gotten around to finding something to climb yet.”

“Need some help with putting it up? Here’s another piece of home ready to be climbed”, Pierre said, extending his arms to the sides and taking a step backwards so he was standing by the tree, angel still in one hand. You shook your head at him while laughing but you still moved closer, ready to climb him like a tree like you’d done hundreds of times before.

Still laughing you jumped on his back and he handed you the angel before wrapping his arms around your legs to support you. With combined forces you were able to complete the tree and Pierre let you down so you could both properly admire your work. 

Your dream had come true after all. 

You felt him move away from you before he was standing right behind you again, the famous tune of Wham! playing again over the speakers. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you placed your hands on his forearms, slowly tracing your fingers over the black ink under his skin.

“You’re mon ange Y/N, you know that right? My angel. My someone special.”

Standing on your tippy toes you placed a soft kiss on his jaw before leaning your head back against him, not really knowing how to put your feelings in words right now but you knew he understood by the way he squeezed you tightly, resting his head on top of yours.

This year you’d given your heart to someone truly special.. again.

Feedback is always appreciated 🥰🥰

[mollyscribbles]

Owl House rewatch thoughts

* Hard to say from what little we see of her, but I think Luz' mom might have been less worried about her daughter reading fantasy and more about the "multiple incidents of bringing uncontained live animals and explosives to school" thing.

* If Eda considers Luz' Azura book as being only useful as kindling, it means she's not inclined to view human books as something she can make snails on.  Considering how unique her portal to the human realm is treated, where did Amity get her Azura books?  I've seen people suggest the author travels between realms, but if that were the case, Amity would've been able to get the latest volume from a local store rather than needing to borrow Luz' copy.

* Suggestions for other species that escaped from the Boiling Isles: the platypus and peacock mantis shrimp.

* "Weak nerd arms" ok really identifying with Luz here.

* Really love this take on Chosen One stories.  Because yes, there is an appeal in being told you're special, you're unique in the best possible way, but ultimately this is a story about people who aren't "special" so much as outcasts who do their best with the situation they're in.  Which is something that a lot more people can aspire to be.

* The fact that this was a set scheme(as the multiple fake maps would indicate) rather than a trap specifically designed for Luz indicates that even people who've spent their lives on the Boiling Isles would be drawn to the idea of being a magical chosen one. I bet Amity's not the only one to have an interest in fantasy literature around here.

* Oh wow Amity's first appearance outside the credits is . . . something.  It's easy to forget just how far she grew in one season.

* Eda's not a *bad* teacher, so much as she has yet to learn that teaching requires expanding on a concept you introduce and explaining your reasoning.  "Here is what you can learn from tasting snow" instead of just "here, taste these different kinds of snow"

* Hm.  For someone who despairs at the concept of the school teaching blind obedience, her teaching style kinda relies on it.  Bit of a hypocrite there, Eda.

* Gonna be honest, the first time I watched this and King mentioned Eda sneaking a drink of elixir, I thought it was going to turn out to be a magic-looking flask.

* It seems slightly odd that King's apparently known Eda for a while but didn't have any idea of the curse.  Maybe she was just REALLY good about keeping up with her elixirs pre-series.

* Really like the metaphor for a chronic illness that's kept under control by medication.

* If the Emperor's Coven provides access to all forms of magic, you'd think others aspiring for a spot would be permitted a multi-track education at Hexside.  That might be why none of them seem to be that impressive at magic when they're supposed to be the "best of the best" -- even if they have *access* to all forms of magic, they've only had training in one specific field during the bulk of their education.

* lbr, Lilith's cheating was worse because at least Eda told Luz what she was doing.

* You'd think Willow and Gus might have caught on that Luz didn't have permission for them to come over when she told them to hide from Eda.

* It's nice that Eda realizes raising a kid with a "screw the rules" mindset will result in a kid who breaks her rules sometimes.  Cleaning up the mess she caused is really the correct punishment for Luz; directly dealing with the consequences of her actions but otherwise considering it a lesson learned.

* Reading to kids in the library is an A+ way to shift Amity from "Jerk" to "Jerk with a heart of gold" territory.

* Prediction: At some point, Luz will return to the human world (probably only briefly but Eda won't know at the time) and Eda will come across the "Coping with empty nest syndrome" book Luz got her from the library.  She'll cry.  King will cry.  Hooty will cry.  Every viewer will cry.

* Pretty sure that, given what the world is like, if any of them ended up questioned about their actions during the body swap episode, they could just say "Oh yeah I was body swapped that day. What'd I get up to?" and everyone would consider this a perfectly logical explanation for them acting out-of-character.

* HC that Hexside is fully aware some illusion-track students skip class by having an illusion of themselves attend in their place, but they figure a student maintaining a decent replica of themselves for the duration of the class period requires enough effort to count as a form of class participation, so they just let everyone think they're getting away with it.

* Gus and Willow are really ride-or-die friends.  Always nice to have.

* Probably some of the mystery appeal will be gone from the Human Appreciation Society once a legit human is just attending classes on a regular basis; being able to get definitive answers to questions rather than spending your time speculating would cut back on the draw.

* I love all the details they include on this show -- a lot of other shows would just stick in scribbles while panning past pictures instead of writing out all of Eda's incident reports.

* The pallisman is a neat concept; sort of like a mix of a wand and a familiar, a magical control that will have opinions of its own.

* Given Bat Queen apparently has enough of, um, a biological aspect to have kids, I wonder if that means Owlbert is capable of laying eggs.  Or having eggs with another owl/pallisman if the male pronouns are anything to go by.

* I mean even Phineas and Ferb didn't question Perry laying an egg when he uses male pronouns so could go either way in terms of what Disney would allow.

* Reading the book fair signs, it looks like sci-fi is a popular genre in the Boiling Isles.  Makes sense, since what we'd consider Fantasy would be more contemporary/urban fantasy to them.

* Getting the vibe that someone on staff had a less-than-amicable experience co-writing with a friend to inspire this one. And/or experience with shitty contracts.

* The Hexside requirements also required knowledge of basic runes, but given Luz apparently had no issue with that I'm guessing she just picked those up offscreen.

* "I've seen worse" is the ideal admissions response tbh.  Like . . . she pulled off the required spells and the headmaster has seen decades of students' awkward first attempts.  It probably counts as a good day when no one's admissions test resulted in needing to bring in someone from the Construction Track to repair the building.

* It's very reminiscent of D&D that the majority of the cast has the response of "This is clearly a trap.  Let's check it out!"

* You'd think that carnival fortune tellers wouldn't have the same appeal in a world where it's something you study at school.  Unless it's viewed the same way as those "magic" shows they have sometimes where the tricks all involve chemical reactions.

* Kinda surprised a school that teaches kids fire spells doesn't have some kind of fire suppression system in place.

* Hrm.  Guessing the mind guardian went back and undid their own damage offscreen; otherwise they'd have had to go re-do the repairs before leaving.

* Good they had the wifi and charging cable coming through the portal to explain why Luz' phone still has service and the battery's not long dead.

* Luz, how have you survived this long with your instinct for pushing buttons.  The same as the rest of humanity in a world full of buttons, I suppose.

* Probably if they thought about it, the best criteria for picking Grom royalty would be less who's the most skilled at magic and more who has the most low-key fears. . . . nvm, having a Stay-Puft incident would cause them to reasonably scrap that approach.  Maybe appointing someone who obsesses over grades would have better odds of producing a relatively-simple-to-combat exam paper.

* I'm thinking the letters are written by Eda, who doesn't intend anything sinister by it so much as being the type to cover her bases when pulling off a scam and realizing Luz' mother would need some evidence to indicate her daughter was safely at camp.

* The band-aids clearly have some healing spell built-in, considering they've been used to heal inanimate objects.

* someone on the writing staff has a long-standing rant about Quidditch they've been holding back on.

* I know that normally the humor in the cut from "she's finally growing up." to Luz planning the heist would be that she's doing something that sensible adults would consider to be a bad idea, but if Eda saw her just then she'd wipe away a tear of pride and go "Her first self-planned heist! They grow up so fast!"

* Eda's the one who talks about cheating at stuff, but Lilith has a habit of playing *dirty*.

* I would like to say I appreciate them going with a more serious credit sequence because it was disconcerting with Star Vs when a dark ending was followed by "I THINK EARTH'S A REALLY GREAT PLACE"

* Lilith may have made a 30-years-late attempt to redeem herself, but I really don't trust her.  I don't quite want her dead, but she DID spend decades trying to force her sister to join the Emperor's Coven as a prerequisite for curing her curse.

[wellexecuted]

First Year of Undergraduate Study: Lessons Learned

1) Notebooks won’t work for your year- long modules. They just don’t- you’ll find by the time your first semester has ended, you’ve already got three per module, and they’re all over the place. Unlike a binder, you can’t just clip in and reorder: missed readings completed later, seminars with additional notes emailed to you after class, will become random pages of notes in an (often indecipherable) spider’s web of in- class note taking, jotted information from readings, scraps of essay planning, that will take too much time to unravel. Do yourself a favour, and use folders- whether digital or physical- that you can divide up into weeks, or document types, and reference with ease when it comes to the exam crunch. Plus, you’ll save luggage space, something I’ve stressed, and will continue to stress time and again, will do your back and shoulders so much good as a commuter or big city student.

2) Talk to fellow students in all your classes. Talk to the people around you, for your own sake and theirs. They are just as dithering and clueless as you are- the kids you think are lofty and intimidating are often the friendliest. Making friends in your classes will make the awkward interim between reaching your lecture hall and taking your seat so much less daunting. It will also boost your confidence academically- being surrounded by people in the same boat as you is such a lovely thing, and when it comes to exam and deadline season, you’ll have shoulders to cry on, and like minds to share your ideas with.

3) Come up with your own, personal, deadline- hitting strategy. From the moment you choose your essay title, to the last hurrah of the final read- through, devise a loose method that works for you. Whether that’s starting weeks ahead with a detailed plan, or making brief summaries of readings to incorporate in the lead up to that final deadline, it will be so helpful to you in the long run to understand how you work in this respect. For many of us, it’s a totally new departure! Certainly with my a levels, I was so exam- minded from the get- go that I treated my coursework as secondary, an addition I took upon myself to nail and then pushed to the sidelines upon completion. Having a good, loose but solid method is integral.

4) Invest in a durable, lightweight planner. Even laptop users should have a paper planner- perfect for planning in advance, squeezing in your readings and research, scribbling email addressed, and jotting down room and time changes as they are mentioned. I discovered the Moleskine Weeks in January of last year, and I highly recommend it- it’s so slim and portable (did I mention I’m a commuter student???!!), and gives you your weekly overview on one side and an entire notes page on the other, as well as calendars at the front for the entire year. 

5) Know when to give yourself a break. When you’re tired, sick or burnt out, do not fret over missing a day of lectures- befriend your seminar leader, and like- minded students, and ask them to catch you up. Seminar leaders are so approachable, and willing to send off any missed information. Become familiar with your university’s online database- often, lecturers will post lecture plan documents, and the slides of their presentation.

6) Check yourself when you start skipping regularly. Soon, the realisation that there are no immediate consequences for skipping class will hit. Make sure you’re going more often than you’re skipping: aim for an 80:20 ratio as a means of maintaining academic discipline.

7) Know where, when, and how, you work best. I mentioned in a previous post that now is the time to find your “thing”- your particular method of learning that Makes Things Stick. For me, it’s watching, and taking notes on, content (Crash Course World History being a long- standing favourite), alongside my readings and lecture notes. Not only should you try to come to know how you learn, but also when, and where, you learn best. I know plenty of people who can work for hours, in silence, in the university library- I personally cannot bear the absence of noise. I’ve found that I work best in two hour stints in coffee shops, and at home with some music in the background (Death Cab for Cutie have tonnes of gentle background music perfect for soft indie lovers). When is also a vital factor in your learning: whilst you don’t always have the luxury of determining when you study, it’s great to know when you work most efficiently when the day is all yours. As a self- professed “evening person”, I work the most efficiently between 4 and 10 p.m.- as a first year, I would often try and cram huge chunks of reading at 6 a.m. ahead of my morning lecture, and would suffer for it. This will help you immensely in the long run, and come exam season you will know what, when and where works for you.

8) Maintain your notes. In reading for, and taking notes during, lectures, you are creating a body of content to refer back to later. Treat it as such- read as broadly as you feel necessary, take notes in all of your classes, and do the work to catch up after skipped classes.

9) Enjoy learning, and exploring, your specialist subject. This slew of teaching and learning is the perfect time to enjoy the privilege of immersion- you’ve got tonnes of resources at your fingertips, professors who are absolutely infatuated with their fields, and time is on your side. Enjoy learning unabashedly! This first year of study is an incredible opportunity to find your niche.

[lucidpantone]

Reacting to reactions: Kynicole s4 ep1 (comments edition)

Okay, so you know when something comes out and you need to talk about it with other humans because you can’t hold it in?  This is me right now with the youtube comments on kynicole’s reaction video. I am about to burst 🤯.

**First and foremost lets thank kynicole for doing what most of us aren't willing to do for ourselves which is revisit the trainwreck that is wtFOCK s4.**

Disclaimer: This is long as hell

Ok so literally first comment I see is this:

People!!! Moyo from all the information we’ve been given as a fandom am pretty sure is not blocked. You know that saying, actions speak louder than words?Well let's analyze the actions of wtFOCK(particularly Rutgers) and Noa. I have asked sooo many people about the block question and I always get the same answer “I don’t know”. Which coupled with everything else that has played out tells me a lot. Ok firstly, we are all aware that wtFOCK is yet to comment on or even acknowledge s4. The newsmonkey article wtFOCK did after every season they skipped entirely after s4. You know what wtFOCK did do? They sent out Nora b4 s4 even ended to calm down the fandom. Oh lets send the WOC out to quell the screams from all the fans that are screaming at the injustice of giving this season to Romi(who was a way less experienced actor, who had no previous backstory on the show, who no one asked for, who was white, a legitimate model, and to put it simply didn’t work anywhere near as hard as Noa for 3 seasons). Anyways here is why I am pretty sure Moyo isn't block.

Think about everything we know about Noa as a human being the way he treats the fans, his demeanor and just overall vibe. To me he seems like a very nice person, he writes back to most of you guys when you talk to him. I saw him comment heart emojis to fan accounts that commented on his award acceptance the other day and you know what he said at the award “That the fans are the most important thing”. Now connect the Noa we know from his actions to his own words on the day the main was revealed:

To me this tweet implies whatever he is speaking about involved a choice and the chooser chose to make money over morality. Now lets exam Rutgers actions. He has never publicly spoken about the season and the reason I believe he doesn't speak is because any decent journalist is going to ask him to explain his casting choice. Also your telling me that if Moyo had been blocked after week 4,5,6,7,8 of having the fandom hurl insults at wtfock and also Romi calling a meeting they wouldn't have used their end of the season interview to confirm Moyo wasn’t an option to shut the fandom up? Oh and last week Noa accepted the award for wtfock and Rutgers posted Noa on his story??? Moyo wasn’t the main of s4. Wouldn't it make sense to have a main accept the award? Why Noa? Rutgers is not stupid. I don’t believe for one second that Moyo was blocked. What I believe is that wtFOCK’s leadership who happens to all be white men are to embarrassed to go on the record and say “yeah Moyo wasn’t block but we still didn’t chose him” and that instead of giving the season to Noa who worked his ass off for 3 seasons they gave it to Romi because they thought “her look” was more appeasing to advertisers. Her look was obviously what sold them on her because next to Noa we know who the better actor was and Noa literally landed a feature film to prove that. Anyways everyone needs to stop pushing this idea that Moyo was blocked because if you actually look at everyone’s actions involved its pretty clear to me he wasn't blocked and Rutgers and the team are refusing to confirm what to me is fairly obvious answer because they know they are going to get fucking dragged. Also whoever this commenter is they know what's up. I agree with everything you stated:

☝️☝️☝️Say it louder sis. wtFOCK bypassed Noa on purpose they chose to do what they did to him. I do genuinely believe they regret the decision now because from everything I heard I really do believe they wish they could go back and chose Noa but the damage is done. 

Next YT comment:

You know when early on in the season a bunch of POC said that this season was merely a platform to embolden and give free reign to those who already harbored racial micro-aggression 👇👇👇

Oh surprise, surprise..... this commenter sees no redeeming qualities in both black boys who in their respective remakes are written as being homophobic, with undertones of aggression and as bad friends. Oh and then this commenter points out how poor Moyo treated Kato. Bwahahahaha what?? Yea Moyo insulted Kato but he never accused her of being a drug dealer, or implies she has a drug problem, or racially profiles members of her community or manipulates her with saying I love you as a form of keeping her but Moyo treats Kato badly. GTFO!!! I am sure this commenter is a Mailin stan too and would say Ava isnt someone she would be interested in seeing main either. Wonder what all these characters have in common🤔. This type of commentary is what created the divide that still resides in the wtfock fandom to date. This shit is what tore the fandom apart and eventually led people to leave the fandom or take time off because people went for each others throats as the season got worse and those who defended wtfock at the beginning were eaten alive. Honestly tho I dont want to excuse people’s troublesome povs on race but wtFOCK’s decision to make a season where their white main never fully apologizes or owns her behavior with the appropriate language perpetuates a pattern of bad behavior so am kinda of not shocked no one came out with some insight on race relations after s4 if anything probably with less of an education then they began with because wtfock themselves peddled the agenda that its ok to silence people of color (as they did with moyo at the end of the season, he never says his piece to kato and stays with her) and Kato never takes ownership of her actions and states that her actions stem from some form of racial micro-aggression.

Final Comments reviewed:

I mean.... look I will always adore season 2 & 3 of wtfock. Nothing will ever change that for me but these people ☝️☝️are right. It takes a real fan to be honest with themselves and to me this is the worse season in the universe and it makes me so sad mainly because it could have been the most fearless, ground breaking season but wtfock made a choice. They literally had the opportunity to go big and do something that had never been done before and in the end they choked and paid the ultimate price. What a waste.......could have been amazing the had the perfect actor to main and they fucking blew it because in their mind Moyo wasn't an important enough story to tell 😞.

p.s. I noticed kynicole said at least half a dozen times in her video I still dont get why this wasn’t in Moyo’s pov? Literally said EVERYONE!!!

[fandomrewrites]

Season 2; Episode 8: Raving

Hello all! Sorry I’m updating a day late! But after last chapter you now know who (Y/N) is starting to like; Isaac! I love Isaac and as I was writing season 2 I knew I wanted them to either have a really good friendship or develop some romantic feelings for each other. I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always constructive criticism is appreciated. 

Season 2; Episode 8: Raving

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Isaac Lahey x Reader

Warnings: mention of sex

Word Count: 2,598

Season 2 Masterlist

I was with Scott in the animal clinic waiting for Derek to arrive. Finally, after what felt like hours, though it was probably only about ten minutes, Scott opened the front door. He stepped aside to let Derek and Isaac in.

“What’s he doing here?” Scott questioned the Alpha.

“I need him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“He doesn’t trust you either.” Isaac replies, sending a glare to my twin before looking back at me with a smirk covering his lips.

“And Derek doesn’t care.” Derek quickly says, stopping any arguing. “Now where’s the vet and is he going to help us or not?”

“That depends.” Dr. Deaton answers, making his presence known to the werewolves. “Your friend Jackson. Are we planning to kill him or save him?”

“Save him.” Scott and I answer together.

At the same time Derek and Isaac say, “Kill him.”

Without missing a beat Scott and I send a glare to the two, Scott once again repeats, “Save him.”

We all move to the exam room after Dr. Deaton gets reassured that we will not be killing Jackson. We watch as the vet unlocks a drawer to reveal dozens of glass jars, different grains and petals inside each.

Derek is drawn to the Celtic symbols on each of the jars: a Triqueta, an Awen, Taranis wheel and others. Isaac reaches out to touch one of the jars but before his hand reaches Derek grabs his wrist, stopping him. “Watch what you touch.” The Alpha scolds his Beta.

Deaton takes out one of the jars with a symbol of a shield knot on it and looks at the contents inside.

“What are you? Some kind of witch?” Isaac asks.

“No, I’m a veterinarian. But I do have experience treating an unusually wide variety of animals.”

I scoff, “You’re telling me.”

Deaton sends me a small smile as he places the jar back down. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if anything here is going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin.”

“We’re open to suggestions.” Derek says.

“How about an effective offense?” Isaac asks.

“We tried.” Derek answers then turns his head to the vet, “I nearly ripped its head off and Argent emptied an entire clip into it. The thing just gets back up. If anything, I think it’s getting stronger.”

“Great, just what we need.” I mumble out, rolling my eyes at the thought of the Kanima getting stronger.

“Has it shown any weaknesses?” Deaton asks.

“One. It’s either afraid of water or can’t swim.” I answer, glancing at Derek as he nods in agreement.

“Does that go for Jackson as well?”

I immediately shake my head, “No. He’s on the swim team.”

Deaton pauses, thinking for a moment. He then removes a new item from the drawer. It’s an old, scratched steel pendant. “Essentially you’re trying to catch two people. A puppet and puppeteer.”

He places the odd piece on the table. “One killed the husband. But the other had to take care of the wife. Do we know why?”

“I don’t think Jackson could do it.” Scott speaks up, “His mother died pregnant too. She might have been murdered. I think he couldn’t let the same thing happen to someone else.”

“How do you know it’s not part of the rules? The Kanima kills murderers. If Jackson killed the wife, the baby would have died too.” Isaac says.

“Then doesn’t that mean your father was a murderer?” Scott questions, looking at Isaac with confusion evident on his face.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was.” Isaac simply answers.

I glance at him biting my lip, I can’t imagine having a parent that horrible. And my dad definitely wasn’t great but I would take him any day compared to what Isaac had to go through.

Isaac raises his eyes, feeling my gaze on him. He lightly smiles and gives me a stiff nod, like he’s telling me he’s alright and better off without him gone.

Derek’s voice breaks me from my thoughts, “But the Bestiary said if the bond’s strong enough, it’ll kill whoever the master wants it too.”

“Hold on.” Deaton replies, “The book says they’re bonded. What if the fear of water isn’t coming from Jackson, but from the person controlling him?”

Deaton pulls another jar from the drawer, this one is filled with gray ash. The symbol on it is for Rown. Deaton unscrews the lid and begins lightly pouring out the contents around the amulet he previously placed on the table.

He then continues to speak, “That could mean the same properties that affect a creature like the Kanima will also affect its human Master.”

“And what does that mean?” Isaac asks.

“It means we can catch them.” Scott answers, “Both of them.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

In school the next day I was talking with Lydia by our lockers, “So you have a date?” She asks with a smirk.

I roll my eyes, “It’s not a date. I told him I’m not ready for that but I’d be happy to go with him as friends.”

“Seriously (Y/N/N), whether you believe it’s a date or not, I’m happy you’re getting back out there. You’re gorgeous and need to get laid.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I a not planning on having sex with him. I don’t even want to kiss him.”

“Oh come on! It’s not like Matt is bad looking. Definitely not my type and you could do better. But for a little fling, it could be fun.”

“Speaking of a little fling...” I trail off, my eyes meeting Isaac’s from across the hall. A small smile falls on to my lips when he starts smirking, clearly hearing what I said.

Lydia turns her head to see who I’m looking at, “You and Isaac?”

I bite my lip and tear my eyes away, turning back to Lydia, “We made out. And I honestly wouldn’t be disappointed if something more happened.”

I glance at him again seeing his smirk grow at my words. “But you’re going out on a date with someone else?” Lydia asks, now confused.

“It’s not a date, Lyds. And I said yes, to hanging out as friends, before Isaac and I kissed.”

Lydia held her hands up, “Hey I’m not judging. I bet if you gave more people the time you would easily see that there are more than just those two interested in you.”

“Hmm.” I hum, “Probably, but you’re one to talk. Miss prettiest girl in school.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “I think we may tie for that honor.”

I laugh, “Sure, let’s go with that.” I glance back at Isaac who subtly nods his head and starts walking away, “I’ll see you later Lyds.”

She nods as I walk away, moving towards Isaac. I look around with a small frown on my lips. “Where did he go?” I mumble out starting to move once more. I then feel a  hand wrap around my wrist pulling me into an empty classroom. The door closes once I am safety inside. 

“I for one, think you’re the prettiest girl in school.” I instantly roll my eyes and lightly shove Isaac’s chest.

“That was cheesy.” I reply as I wrap my arms around his neck. Before he has the chance to reply I gently bring his head down to attach my lips to his. We only break apart when the bell rings. I let out a groan at the sound, not wanting this moment to end.

Isaac lightly chuckles and nudges his nose against my neck. He then presses feather light kisses on my exposed neck and collar-bone as I hum in content and my eyes flutter closed. “We should get to class.” He finally speaks up, though he doesn’t break apart.

“It’s my free period. And you’re already late, might as well skip.” I smirk.

He lets out another laugh, his head falling back and blue eyes lighting up. It brings a smile to my face as I watch him, “You should laugh more. It sounds nice.”

His eyes meet mine once more, “Well if I spend more time with you then you’ll probably be hearing it more often.” We share a smile before he leans back down and reattaches our lips.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Later that day, I was once again in the vet clinic but this time without Derek and Isaac. In their place was Stiles instead. Deaton holds up a vial of clear liquid. We step forward to get a better look. “Ketamine?” Scott asks.

“Same thing we use on dogs. Just a higher dosage.” Deaton confirms. He then hands Scott the vial and a hypodermic, “If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time.”

“Ketamine for the Kanima.” We all throw Scott questioning glances and upon seeing our faces he mutters, “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.”

Deaton then places a glass jar in front of Stiles, it’s filled with the same gray ash from yesterday. “This is a sample of what you’ll use to create the barrier. Now, this part is for you, Stiles and (Y/N).”

My eyes slightly widen, “Does it need to be both of us? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get away from Matt for that long.”

“No, but it needs to be one of you.”

I turn to Stiles who sighs, “That sounds like a lot of pressure. Could we find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?”

Deaton pours a little bit of the ash into his hand to allow Stiles to get a closer look. “It’s from a mountain ash tree which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with mountain ash wood which makes it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble.”

“So I spread this around the whole building and neither Jackson or whoever’s controlling him won’t be able to cross?” Stiles questions.

Deaton nods, “They’ll be trapped.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.” Scott says.

“That’s not all there is. Think of it like gunpowder. It’s just powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles.” Deaton continues.

“If you mean light myself on fire, I’m not sure I’m up for that.”

I giggle and shake my head at the brunette boy. Dr. Deaton speaks up once more, “Let me try a different analogy. I used to play golf. What’s interesting about the best golfers is they never swing without first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind. And their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish.”

“Force of will.” Stiles repeats the words the vet said.

“If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it.’

Stiles nods, keeping his gaze locked on the jar of mountain ash, a determined look on his face.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I picked Matt up, having borrowed my moms car for the night. I pull into a space outside the warehouse. As we step out of the car Matt turns to me, “Sorry I couldn’t drive. My dad usually lends me the car.”

I smile, “No worries. I actually really like driving so...” I shrug as I trail off. There is a brief moment of awkward silence. Matt then holds out his hand to me, I lick my lips as I hesitantly take it, readjusting my tank top with my other hand.

Once inside the building the music blasts and my eyes move around to try and spot Jackson or really anyone else that I know.

Finally my eyes meet Matt’s “Did you want to dance?” I question with an awkward smile.

Though Matt doesn’t seem to notice how awkward I seem as he nods his head and moves with me into the crowd.

We bob along to the music, my eyes still moving throughout the room. Once my attention is back on Matt he opens his mouth to say something, but due to the loud volume of the music I can’t make out the words.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks once more, miming drinking from a cup.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” I nod and watch as he moves to another part of the crowded room.

With Matt now gone, I quickly move to blend in with the crowd more. Still dancing to the music so I don’t stick out like a sore thumb.

I finally spot Isaac carrying a limp Jackson, Erica right behind them. I rush over and step into the door with them, “Where’s Scott? I thought he was going to do this?” I question.

“The Argents are here. He said he needed to talk to them.” Isaac replies. Then he glances at me, “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

I groan, “It’s not a date. Though I should probably go find him. You two will be okay here?”

The two werewolves nod in agreement. So I turn to leave the room and try to find Matt.

Finally spotting the photography loving boy I make my way over, “Sorry! I got a call from my dad.”

He gives me a questioning glance as he hands me my drink, “It’s fine. Though I never hear you or Scott mention your dad?”

“Uh yeah. It’s... It’s complicated.” I stutter out.

Matt just nods. Once the drinks are finished he hold out his hand once more, “Let’s dance some more? Try and get closer to the DJ?”

“Yeah, sounds good!” I take his hand once again, letting him pull me through the crowd.

We once again start dancing within the crowd. My eyes are still drifting around looking at the people around us, this time more out of awkwardness than trying to spot someone I know.

“You’re not having a good time.” Matt states.

I turn to look at him with shock evident on my face, “Sorry.” I apologize, grimacing.

“What’s wrong?” He questions.

I shrug, “I just have a lot on my mind.” I pause for a brief moment then continue, “Do you ever feel like you have the best intentions but you’re just making mistake after mistake?”

“No. Unlike the rest of humanity Im perfect.”

I smile at the joke, glad that he’s trying to distract me. But the smile is quickly wiped off my face as Matt leans in for a kiss. I lurch back in surprise, “Oh God. That was the worst mistake ever. I’m so totally sorry.”

I shake my head, “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay but I...” I take a breath and point behind me, “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Instead of going to the bathroom though I quickly make my way back to the storage room that Jackson is locked in. Just as I reach out to open the door, Stiles, Isaac and Erica run through it. Slamming the door shut as soon as everyone, aside from Jackson, is out.

“Find something to block the door.” Stiles says. But before anyone can follow through, the wall next to the door explodes outwards as Jackson crashes through it.

“What the hell just happened?” I question in shock.”

“He’s a lot stronger than we thought.” Stiles simply answers.

We all rush out, the three others trying to figure out what happened to Jackson while I reluctantly try to find Matt once more. Knowing that i can’t hide from him forever, I am his ride home after all.

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: On Golden Girls

Blanche’s rebellious grandson visits, and the Girls help straighten him out. Also, we get more information about St. Olaf.

Picture it...

Blanche is upset and a wreck -- and not, as Dorothy initially assumes, because she has cellulite. Her daughter Janet is attempting to fix her ailing marriage with a second honeymoon to Hawaii, and Blanche will have to look after 14-year-old grandson, David, for two weeks. Dorothy initially grouses about having a teenager in the house while she’s studying for a French exam, but they all agree to help Blanche look after David, including taking him to see Rambo.

SOPHIA: I sat through it twice, you’ll love it. He sweats like a pig and doesn’t put his shirt on.

The next day, the girls prepare for David’s arrival, while Sophia complains about having to put up with Dorothy snoring. Blanche comes home in a panic, saying David never got off the plane. A police officer arrives with David moments later and says he stowed away on the plane while it went onto the Bahamas. David talks to the girls for a grand total of two minutes before skipping out to go hang out a burger joint, despite Blanche’s pleas for him to stay. Sophia says Blanche should have smacked him for his disrespect, but Dorothy thinks the St. Olaf story Rose was about to tell would be punishment enough.

At night, Dorothy is trying to study while Sophia goes about her very noisy toilette (which for some reason involves patting Nivea onto the backs of her hands and immediately scrubbing it off with tissues). Dorothy can’t study with the noise, so both of them turn in for the night. They argue over the amount of topical ointments Sophia’s wearing, and the hacking sounds she makes as she’s sleeping. Dorothy reminisces about how she would crawl into bed with Sophia when she was a kid and had a nightmare. They bid a fond goodnight and finally settle down.

Suddenly, loud music booms through the house, waking everyone up. They run to the living room, where David and a few other teenagers are listening to rock music on a stereo. Dorothy sends the strangers on their way and tells David to clean up. David starts to throw what can best be described as a hissy fit over not being able to have his new friends over, and starts to mouth off to all of the girls. As soon as he gets into Sophia’s face, she lands his with a resounding slap. This quickly shuts him up and sends him running from the room.

Blanche goes to check on David, who’s still reeling from Sophia’s smack. He says he wants to go home, and when Blanche tells them he can’t because his parents aren’t there, David says it’s no different from when his parents are there. He breaks down and tells Blanche how his parents neglect him because they’re always fighting, and angrily rebuffs Blanche’s attempts to comfort him.

The next day, the girls give Blanche a collected list of chores David can start doing. Blanche isn’t sure how it’ll help, but Rose and Dorothy talk about how the chores they did growing up gave them a sense of responsibility. Blanche realizes the way she raised Janet -- not having to do anything, just as she was raised -- may have contributed to David’s current behavior, and decides she’s going to make up for these mistakes by doing what’s best for him.

ROSE: Did they have chores in Sicily? SOPHIA: Are you kidding? They invented chores in Sicily. Crossing the street without getting pregnant was a chore in Sicily. DOROTHY: Rose, never mention Sicily.

One night, Dorothy catches David trying to sneak out and asks him where he intends to go and what he’s going to do. David doesn’t have an answer, but protests all the work he has to do. Dorothy accuses him of wimping out and says life is going to get a lot tougher than some chores at his grandmother’s house. David finally opens up and talks about how upset he is. Dorothy reminds him that he’s surrounded by people who care about him and he’ll always be welcome, good-naturedly negotiating a chore exchange and cheering him up.

Some time later, the girls are having dinner with David, celebrating Dorothy passing her French exam. They also toast David’s improved attitude. He says that it “hasn’t been half-bad” and earnestly asks the girls to let him live with them permanently. Sophia hustles him out for ice cream and tells Blanche to call his mother. Blanche gets Janet on the phone and says David’s so happy at her home that she’s going to keep him. While we can’t hear Janet, she naturally protests. Blanche acknowledges she can’t keep him against his parents’ will, but gives Janet a stern warning about the consequences of neglecting him further.

BLANCHE: If you and Michael don’t straighten up and given that boy the love and attention he deserves, I will kick your uppity butt ‘til Hell won’t have it again!

The girls say goodbye to David, who’s going to join his parents in Hawaii. Blanche tells him to give his parents a chance, and Dorothy reassures him that he’ll always have a place with them. After he’s gone, the girls hope he’ll be okay. Sophia, meanwhile, will be happy not having to live with Dorothy’s infamous snores anymore.

“What are you trying to do, pickle yourself so you’ll live to be 100?”

I’m swiftly going to run out of ways to say “this is the first time the girls do X” but it’s the first season, so there are a lot of first times. While this isn’t the first time we’ve seen the girls with one of their offspring, this is the first time we’ve seen them do some parenting and discuss parenting.

ROSE: I just fixed a special treat for David. It’s the same little afterschool snack I used to make for my own son: A triple-decker BLT, a hearty helping of homemade potato salad, and a great, big slice of double chocolate fudge cake. DOROTHY: Oh, where was he going after school? The electric chair?

It’s actually kind of heartbreaking that it’s in a case of child abuse that we get to see them show off their parenting skills -- but I do appreciate that they cut David some slack and get to the root of his issues. I think a lesser show would just have the rebellious teenager “learn something” from his grandma and her friends and shape up, but Blanche instead gets him to open up about the real problem, which is that his parents are too wrapped up in their own problems to take care of him -- not to mention, as Blanche keeps mentioning, his father’s a Yankee.

I mean, this poor kid is so emotionally starved he thinks his parents would be thrilled to get rid of him -- and that’s unambiguously shown to be their fault, not his. Dorothy’s little speech challenging him not to give up on the people who’re actually making an effort to help him is a believable exchange between a teenager and a teacher. Fun fact: Billy Jacoby, the actor who plays David, was 16 when this episode aired.)

While I know it couldn’t happen within the confines of the show, part of me wishes he really could live with Blanche and the girls. I’m not sure if it was not as common for kids to be raised by their grandparents in the late 80s, but it certainly wouldn’t be unusual today. Still, if anything, this is the first time we get an idea of how hands-off a parent Blanche was, and how much she’d like to make up for that -- that’s definitely something that’ll come up again later in the show. 

For what it’s worth, she strikes me as one of those people who’s a better grandparent than parent, but she does do some parenting in this episode: namely, her harsh correction of Janet, who’s too wrapped up in her own problems to take care of David. Blanche may not approve of Sophia’s more brutal forms of correction, but her going off on her daughter was no less impressive than that slap.

Now I’m gonna go on record to say I disapprove of hitting children. While I don’t have any of my own yet, I don’t believe children should be hit on the face or anywhere else as a punishment or preventative measure -- nor should anyone, if I’m being honest. However, I will say that I don’t think that’s what Sophia was doing. Her smack was more akin to when you slap someone who’s hysterical -- David was clearly whipping himself into a froth and any attempts to talk him down or intimidate him weren’t working, so Sophia administered a little… percussive intervention to bring him back down to earth.

Like Dorothy says later, it comes from a place of caring, and I think Sophia of all characters knows when something like that will help rather than hurt... melon baller notwithstanding. I do appreciate that Dorothy and Sophia’s interactions, both when they’re arguing and when they’re sharing fond memories, shows a healthy dynamic between parent and child to contrast what poor David is going through. There’s not much of a B-plot to this episode aside from Dorothy’s French exam, and much of it centers around the single scene of the two arguing in bed, but it’s by far the funniest scene in the whole episode.

Having watched all of the episodes up to this point -- and spending roughly a week over-analyzing each episode -- I think this is the first time we’ve ever gotten some true St. Olaf stories. Given that Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia have their assigned “tasks” in the episode, the writers decided to give Rose the job of adding a little color and humor to the episode.

They do this by having Rose describe some stories from her home life on the farm, including Alice, the cow you had to milk while sitting on a stool -- as in, she sits on the stool. It’s our first indication that something isn’t quite right about the place where Rose comes from, though we only have her responsibilities as a child to go by. It’s not going to be the last time we hear about it, by a longshot, but it’s a great teaser of the sort of bizarro logic that St. Olaf runs on. And I really want to hear now what the heck happened to Alice that she had to sit on a stool.

By the way, the title is a reference to On Golden Pond, a film which also features a teenage boy bonding with grandparents -- and part of me wonders if this whole plot happened because they just couldn’t resist the reference to another well-known “Golden” thing.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Best part of the episode:

BLANCHE: Is that all you Italians know how to do -- scream and hit? SOPHIA: No, we also know how to make love and sing opera.

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 1

Off we go…

Kristanna Modern AU

Rating: G

Word counting: 2211

Kristoff takes Anna away off her studies – she´s a mess before exams…

So that was about it. Kristoff was sick of watching his girlfriend exhausting herself with struggling towards her exams. Not that she would not make them. He was convinced she would do great finals. But her family had burdened her with heavy responsibility of representing their name with the greatest marks she should get – within the first 10 of finalists – that meant to end her collage degrees “with merit”. Anna was smart and she had great skills to make her way into a bright future, the young man was positive for her. But! If only the family business would not call for her in person, to shout out their greatness just because of titles and medals!

Kristoff frowned on the thoughts. He had seen Anna wrench with worry to fail on her family´s name. She didn´t really like the goal they had set for her – without even actually asking if it was what she wanted – to become a respectable lawyer. Anna had mentioned several times that she would so much more prefer to study some profession on socialised basics. Of course, as a lawyer one should have social skills… Kristoff wrinkled his nose thinking about Anna´s sister being anything less than socialising. It wasn´t that he would not like Elsa as such, she was after all Anna´s sister. But she was reluctant and tentative when it came to events or communicative situations. She like to withdraw herself from any personal attachments. Of course, as a strict and professional lawyer she could not afford to associate to much with others. She had to prevent her person from gossip and speculative turns.

But Anna was the opposite. She needed personal contacts, literally craving for fun and sharing time with friends and colleagues. Anna had accompanied Kristoff several times to events organised by his working team, to sportive events with friends or then to his family celebrating seasons.

No! This kind of profession would be her downfall. He had to do something about this. Kristoff loved Anna to much to watch this fruitless and bizarre process any longer. He understood Anna struggled to get anyone happy around her, even if that meant that she had to step back. But she was the one to definitively be happy. And that was what Kristoff had set his mind for!

Kristoff assumed well enough the effort and nerve taking time the last term of college would require. But how senseless it was, if one had to strive for best marks – just to please others. He thought about his own dreams and goals he had set for himself. Nothing great, it was in comparison. But after all, if he would succeed the next few years, he would make a respectable living to feed a little family. He didn´t have the chance to follow a college career, stepping right into working life after Senior High. But a good life it was, nevertheless. His career as carpenter wasn´t bad. He made a good living, good enough for himself, that was.

He wondered though of what Anna really dreamed about. She had never really set her mind focused completely, all slowed and conducted in pace by her family in the background. Kristoff took a heart and wanted to get her to himself for a quiet moment and challenge this great girl to free herself from a pressure she didn´t deserve at all. He would support her in any way he could. If only she would let him be the one at her side!... But then, Kristoff subconsciously feared the gap between them, financially and socially. He would never be able to offer Anna the life she was used to right now. What if that would matter more to her than their relationship? That was, what he needed to find out. And the thought of her breaking up and backing up to her former familiar life, scared him and tore at his heart. But then, if not now, how long should he prolong of facing the truth?

**********

The sun lit the room in a golden light, inviting anyone for a comfortable stroll in the nice spring afternoon. Early May, warm but not hot, nature blossoming but not yet in full colour. The smell of fresh flowers and kind spring winds rustling around the grounds to caress people’s faces, it was all good doing to body, soul, and spirit.

Anna didn´t really notice much of it.

She sat over her books, elbows on the table, her head laying heavy in her hands. She went through the book beneath her eyes, glaring back up at her from the table desk.

Basically, she didn´t disklike the topic of law and orders. After all, it helped to help people who needed advice and support on law-matters, not being treated wrong. But then, there was so much corruption. When Anna had served in her family´s office, for practical study terms, she had been appalled upon certain undergoing of mistreating the law, putting it correctly for formality reason, but certain cases were not correct from morality point of view. Anna had faced her sister, Elsa, for that matter and asked why they would defend people who had done wrong, admittingly, just to get their rights pushed through. It had been a matter of loyalty towards good friends, and everybody got his right for defence. They would not justify the wrongdoing but help them getting a better way out of it. That was all. It would be still correct.

Anna couldn´t share this opinion. Still, once she got her degrees, she could change her ways and be a good lawyer to people in need, real need. People who might not have much money. She had set her mind of selling her character to money. But her family wanted her in their business. She didn´t like it. Not at all. The problem was, Anna hadn´t the guts to stand up against them. They were family. Her parents were kind people, but then obliged to friends and business. The long year family tradition and their represented name. Elsa was loyal, correct, but in her ways not so people bound. She would handle the cases as such. The customers were customers and to be treated as such. End of the story.

Anna was different. She liked people in general, if not necessarily everyone the same… She hated injustice – that´s why she liked the law-thing. But injustice was in this world and would never be defeated to its downfall. So, that would be an endless enemy. Still, if she could be of little help in a little while, to little people – would it not be worth the struggle and effort?

She got up, got herself a cup of coffee from her kitchen corner and stood with her back leaned against the door frame. Glancing out the window, Anna sighed, and she decided to take a little break and to go for a short walk. The fresh air would do her good and free her heavy brain for sure. It was early Friday afternoon and the weekend beckoned invitingly to free her head. She smiled, put her cup into the sink, and put on her comfy boots. Skipping down the staircase to the front porch, she hummed a melody in anticipation of the sunny spring day. Anna decided to take the time to overthink her situation and later, when Kristoff came around, she would tell him. He had a sobber common sense, always listening carefully to her chaotic referees. He would encourage her in her plans, she was sure. Dear Kristoff, he was such a gift, such a treasure to her life. If only her family could see his worth, looking beyond name and career.

**********

Kristoff parked his Pickup in front of Anna´s flat.

Grinning a last time to the glove box he got out and made his way to the front door, when he heard a familiar voice call his name. Turning around he spotted his sweet ginger-headed gal. His heart leaped, then Anna looked happy. Her cheeks showed a soft red glow and her eyes sparkled at him in delight.

“You´re early!”

“Sorry, if I interfere with your schedule.” He shrugged and stepped down the steps to meet her.

“No. That´s wonderful. Happy to see you.” Anna strode up to him, flinging her arms around his neck, and tiptoeing she perked a soft kiss to his lips. “I´ve been thinking of you all this walk. And it did me good. Thinking of you, and walking, too.” She giggled, smiling up at him.

“It´s good to see you in this cheerful mood.” Kristoff perked a soft kiss to her forehead. “I´ve been worrying, you know.”

“You shouldn´t. I´m fine. But yes, there is something I would like to talk to you.”

Kristoff pressed his lips together. What was it?

Anna glanced up, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Hey, don´t look at me like a sad puppy. Nothing´s wrong, alright? I just need your honest opinion on something that´s roaming my mind. I trust you to be fair to me and don´t push me into something I´m not. You know, that means life to me!”

She was so wonderful. So passionate. Kristoff pulled her close into an embrace and caressed her back with his right hand, while he cupped the back of her head with his left. “Hey feisty pants, sure I will. I love you and I want your best, you know that, yes?”

Anna nodded into his chest and squeezed her arms tight around his waist.

**********

That was so exciting.

Anna loved surprises. She was all agitated and shifting on her seat.

They were on the way to somewhere; she was not supposed to know yet. It had taken her about ten minutes to pack some stuff for two nights. Oh gosh, that was awesome. She gnawed on her lips, wondering where they were heading to. Kristoff had announced that she should pack some comfy things, then something nice for the evening and then casual. Whatever made her feel comfy, that was most important to him. For the night, it was up to her… Goodness, that one had taken maybe eight out of ten minutes… What to wear for the night… At the end she had packed three different pieces. A long silky nightgown, a silky shorty, and a comfy cotton shorty. No idea what mood will be calling then… That was so exciting.

Kristoff had put on his sunglasses and was driving towards west. So, the coast, maybe? Las Vegas? Goodness. Some cosy beach hotel? He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other elbow rested on the open window frame.

“So, do you think we will need to stop in between for the length of drive?” Anna tried to ask as casually, looking out the window, playing with the end of one of her braids.

“Yeah, maybe, in case you need to step out?” Kristoff grinned towards her and smacked his lips. No other answer.

“What about dinner? Shall we have some on the way, or will we reach our destiny before evening?” She tried another one.

“In case you can´t wait? We can stop before. We have the freedom to do what we want.” Another grin.

He was good in this. Really. Still, it was a funny game. And Anna loved playing it. Maybe she would find out. But then, he intended to surprise her with something and she didn´t want to ruin it. She shifted her weight unto the left and leaned her head sideways to the headrest, just to place a soft hand tenderly on Kristoff´s arm.

“Thank you. It´s sweet of you, taking me out that way, you know. It´s not often I get such a lovely treat. Makes me really happy.” Her eyes felt moisty, but she swallowed the knot in her throat. She didn´t want to make a scene. It was just to wonderful a feeling. All of her felt just so happy, so whole, so… loved and cherished.

“That´s nothing, Anna. You deserve it! I hope you´ll like it. I tried my best, believe me. But then, be warned. I can´t afford the Hilton, you know that. But I guess to know you well enough that this is not what you want, right?”

Anna smiled and chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “No. Not at all. Glad you know me so well.”

Kristoff took a deep breath and then shortly turned his head to smile at her. Focusing back on the road, he mentioned to her as casually as possible. “Well then, honey, why don´t you check the glove box?!”

Anna gasped wide eyed, turned to the handle in front of her and opened the glove department. When she reached inside and pulled out an envelope, she gnawed on her lips again, looking sharply to Kristoff, who sat grinning, casually driving along.

Anna opened the envelope and pulled out the tickets for their weekend, and she shrieked in pure delight and disbelief of what she held in her hands. She had dreamed of this for so long and everybody had laughed her off in her family about it. Kristoff had heard her jovial dreaming about it, and he granted her this trip.

They were on their way to Disneyland!

[delaneytveit]

University AU - Lance!Baseball

So earlier I made a post about Lance being a baseball player, and I decided to ignore all of my responsibilities and instead just write this full fledged fic based on that post. Honestly I love the university au and I think I might do more, and have them all like connect. But only time will tell. So without further ado, please enjoy my little baseball au. 

(Also if you were wondering, everything in this that is baseball related is correct, I’m from a baseball family and have spent years scorekeeping for my little bro’s games, ironically this fic got a little away from me because I got so caught up in the baseball aspect of it. I'd apologize but honestly, I miss baseball so much and this gave me the dopamine I needed, so guess you’ll just have to deal with it. *insert Arianna meme about “what about it” here*) 

Lance getting a spot on the team was the second best thing that could have ever happened to him. Lance getting a starting spot on the team, that was the absolute best thing that could happen to him. Every practice, every skirmish, every drill just made him grateful for being a part of the team.

Yeah, the school’s baseball team wasn’t their prize sport, that fell on the football team. But that didn’t mean that it was any easier to get on, and even harder to get play time. So when Lance found out that he wasn’t going to spend his entire first season on the bench, let’s just say the boy saw God.

He just wished his friends were as excited as he was. When he first broke the news he got a few “wow, that’s cool.” or even “nice job Lance” but that was it. There was no genuine surprise or enthusiasm. It hurt, but knowing his friends, he couldn’t fault them. Not when Shiro was literally the starting Running Back for the football team, Hunk being the starting Offensive line, and Allura the starting forward on the girls soccer team. Pidge winning as many science awards as humanly possible, and Keith kicking ass in all his classes. Why would anyone care about some dumb baseball team?

Still he invited them to his first game, and though he hid how much it hurt when they didn’t show he still did extremely well. He made plays like they were second nature, which considering the 10+ years he’s been playing the sport, they basically were.

The longer the season went on, the less it hurt when they didn’t show. His mom, and some of his siblings would, and that’s what really matters. Some of his friends from class did, and that was nice. And his team was always there to keep his head in the game. He was grateful to have become close to so many of them.

Everything was going great, at least he thought they were.

They were having one of their study sessions in Shiro’s room, Keith and Lance studying chemistry while Shiro, Matt and Allura were studying for their Calculus 3 exam, and pidge and hunk doing some lab report for their molecular biology class. Keith was having trouble with one of the problems, huffing loudly every time he got stuck.

“You okay, man?” Lance asked, looking up from his notes.

Keith huffed again, “Yeah, I just can’t get past this fucking thing, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Lance leaned over to look at the problem, the lightbulb in his head lighting up full force when he recognized the question. He spent the next few minutes explaining to Keith how to approach the problem and walking him through it before Pidge interrupted.

“I thought you sucked at Chem!”

Lance laughed, “I do, but I had the same trouble with it, and my tutor taught me how to do it.”

“Since when did you get a tutor? I thought they were all too expensive?” Keith asked

“Um...the baseball team pays for a tutor for whatever class you need.”

“Wait,” it was Shiro this time, “You’re on the baseball team?” the entire room looked at Lance with a mixture of confusion and shock.

Lance reached up and rubbed the back of his neck before sighing, “Yeah, I told you guys the day the list came out.” he said simply, he didn’t know why, but he was starting to feel a little embarrassed about the situation. So he kept his eyes from looking directly at anyone. “I..um...even invited you guys to a few games at the start of the season…”

Pidge broke out into a fit of laughter, “What? No you didn’t!”

He didn’t mean to wince at her outburst, but he couldn’t help it. It hurt. And he was ashamed that he was able to show it so easily in front of his friends.

“Yeah, I did. You said something along the lines of ‘but it's literally soooo boring’” Lance let his shoulders sag before pulling his phone out of his sweater pocket and checking the time. “Honestly, its no big deal, but I do have to go. Got practice before the game tonight.” he quickly packed up his stuff and made a hasty retreat from Shiro’s room, mumbling his goodbyes.

The group sat in the silence for a few too many seconds. Their eyes trained on the door that their friend all but ran out of. How did none of them realize it? How did they not know? Lance, the guy who literally never stops talking, who’s so excited to share his most recent life update. If what he said was true, then what kind of friends were they?

Lance went to as many football and soccer games as he could to support his friends. Was always up for celebrating Pidge’s success, and never failed to congratulate Keith on his recent exam score.

Matt was the first one to speak, “Anyone else get the feeling that we’ve  royally fucked up?”

“What do we do?” his sister asked, it was clear that she was the one who felt the most guilty, she remembered saying just that to Lance. She didn’t mean anything with it, she was just talking, and it was true, she didn’t really like baseball. But he seemed so hurt by it.

Shiro got up and took his phone off of the charger that sat on the other side of his bed.

“Shiro?”

“I’m checking the game schedule.” He said, typing into his phone. “He has a game in two hours.”

Everyone took that as the deciding factor. They were going to continue studying for another hour before heading down to the baseball field. They were finally going to watch their friend play.

It was much too easy for Lance to forget everything that had happened in his friend’s room once practice started. He went through the drills and ran his laps with a clear head, his teammates joking along with him.

He was way too engrossed in practice that he didn’t even notice his friends make their way to some seats behind home plate, snacks in hand.

They watched him through practice, none of them really knowing what was happening.

“They all look the same.” Keith grumbled, “Which one is he?”

Hunk looked at the program he had managed to grab on their way in, “Number 15, damn, apparently he’s starting short stop and plays 2nd and Left field!”

“I’m going to be honest, Hunk” Shiro laughed, “But 90% of us don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hunk joined in on the laugher, taking a bite out of his warm pretzel which definitely needed more salt “All you guys need to know is he’s really good.”

Hunk was right, once the game started, it was clear that Lance was insanely good. The times that a ball was hit to him, you could count on that guy getting out. He never dropped a catch, all of his throws were precise and even from where they sat, they could hear the power the ball held once it hit the target glove.

“Coming up to the plate, Straight from Varadero Cuba, Shortstop and Second Baseman, #15 Leandro Serrano!”

Hunk leans forward, his attentiveness surging everyone else to do the same as they watched Lance swing his bat a few times before stepping into the box. He swings his bat a few more times keeping his eyes on the pitcher as he finally settles into his stance.

The first pitch was much too low, Lance knew it the moment it left the pitcher’s hands. “Ball” he heard the umpire behind him. He waited patiently, the guy wasn’t throwing hard, and honestly if he wasn’t so focused he probably would have smiled. If the guy were to throw at the right height, he’d have no problem launching the ball out into the outfield bringing in one, maybe even two runs and leaving him on second.

The next pitch was a little outside, but he knew if he were to skip this one it would be counted as a strike anyways. He watched as his bat tipped it and sent the ball flying to the left, never crossing the foul line. He took a step back to shake it off, loosen up his muscles before reentering the box and taking his stance back up. He heard the count, 1-1 as he did so.

Somehow, he knew the next pitch was his. Something in his stomach just told him that no matter what, he had to swing. So he did, timing it perfectly he watched the ball make contact and fly off of his bat. The second it did so, he dropped the bat and ran to first, looking up as he rounded the base just in time to watch the ball completely clear the back fence. He never stopped running as he kissed the necklace that hung around his neck and pointed a number one up to the sky, the stands erupting into complete joyous chaos as player after player crossed home plate safely.

No one was expecting to see something like that. To say that the group of teens were surprised was an understatement. They cheered and remained in awe of their friend, who seemed so in his element on the field. The first two pitches made them anxious, but the third, man the third sent all of them out of their seats as they joined the rest of the stands to celebrate what the announcer stated as a three run homerun.

As the game progressed, it became evident that Lance was one hell of a player, catching three fly balls, starting three double plays, and launching a throw from left field all the way to home, just in the nick of time to get the runner out.

In the end, Altea U won with a score of 8 while University of Galran made out with a measly 2.

The group of friends waited outside the locker rooms, still jittery from the excitement of the game.

“Who was it that said that baseball was boring?” Keith joked, poking the clearly excited Pidge in her side.

“Hey! All I know of baseball comes from the few times I would walk in on my grandpa watching it on TV, and it was definitely boring then!”

A few minutes later, the team exited the locker rooms, still dressed in their uniforms, but in a much more casual way. They quickly spotted Lance, his jersey unbuttoned and showing his light blue undershirt, shouldering his bag, with a bat in hand. He was joking with some other guys as they walked before he heard his name.

 “Lance! Lance!” 

“Yoooo, you guys came?” He walked over to them, no one missed the way his eyes held a different, happier kind of light. 

Everyone took their turns hugging him and congratulating him on his game, and he'd be lying if he said he didn’t feel like crying of happiness right now. His friends were here, they had seen his game, they sat in the stands and watched him play. It was such an unreal feeling. 

“Dude, how come you never told us you were a fucking beast?” Matt all but yelled, pulling Lance into a tight hug. 

“No wonder you guys are undefeated, they had no chance!” Shiro exclaimed, clamping his hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

In the end, they decided to go out for some cheeseburgers in honor of Lance’s win. Everyone hopped into Shiro’s car, and those who didn’t - Keith, went with Lance. They had walked to the car in silence, not completely awkward, but one that Keith at least thought was a little unsettling. But whenever he looked up at Lance, that stupid beaming smile of his, it pushed the uneasiness away.

 “...You know...that first hit...that was awesome” He said, sliding into the passenger seat as Lance put his bag in the trunk. He almost thought the boy did hear him- almost. Lance quickly slid into the driver’s seat, buckled his seat belt and started the car before turning to Keith.

“Thanks man, honestly I’m so glad you guys got to see that!”

 The burger place they chose wasn’t too far, and soon they were all taking a seat at a table, laughing and joking. Lance being his goofball self. He had just told the most obnoxious yet hilarious joke that had the entire table keeling over in laughter when the cashier called his order number. Keith watched as Lance got up and walked to the counter, he hadn’t even noticed what he was doing until Pidge elbowed him in the ribcage. 

“Baseball pants, right?” She asked jokingly, sending the entire table into another laughing frenzy and Keith’s cheeks an embarrassing red. 

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

We Sold Our Souls to Instagram

September 2020 // Chapter 2

“No, I’m not going to pick you up.” I shook my head, visibly and audibly annoyed. “You know damn well that I’m not getting behind the wheel. I’m hanging up, sorry.”

Converting potential energy into kinetic, the iPhone X left my hand, skimming across the wave-front of my bed. My hands ruffled through my hair as I inhaled then sighed, absentmindedly channelling the virtues of cellular respiration.

Tired of this perpetual bullshit, my fingers slithered across the Ikea desk before me, eventually detecting the apple of my bedroom’s Eden: a lychee ice Puff Bar. My fingers honed in on the device, ensnaring it, raising it to my lips. A deep breath saved me from the agony of sobriety, the nicotine buzz lasting a moment. Then, it was lost.

Six soft, knuckled knocks rapped at the bedroom door. “It’s unlocked,” I shouted.

A creak later, the door swung open, revealing Adam. There was nobody else in the house anyway. With a global pandemic at large and wildfires blazing on deep into September, neither Ajay nor Cam had seen Dwight House since March. Just Adam and me.

“Yo, we out,” he said, pulling a reusable, black cloth mask under his chin. “Can’t see shit outside but we still drinking, dawg.” Ah, the charming vernacular of a Korean-American friend from the elite suburbs of the East Bay.

“It’s good. What’re we feeling today?” I had actually enjoyed the past six months with Adam—it had been a good bonding experience. Despite his rough tone around me and the rest of the guys, Adam was quite versatile in social settings, weaving between upper-class gentility at investment banking info sessions and middle-aged rednecks at gun ranges. With classical Berkeley-liberal ideologies and Wall Street Journal-reading, center-right-leaning, finance friends, Adam defied social realities.

Adam shrugged. “Could go for some Chimay. I’m feeling classy.”

“Not a bad idea at all, my friend,” I said. It had been awhile since I’d had a good beer like Chimay, and I was getting sick of Coors Banquets. “On the other hand, your timing just might be—a bad idea, I mean. Air looks cancerous outside.” Marmalade light cast by the wildfires of a fuming Earth engulfed Northern California, held in suspense by cool, Pacific layers of atmosphere. It was like we were on planet Arrakis, from Dune, or trapped in the world of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust.

“The air low-key is cancerous. AQI is pushing 180’s right now,” said Adam, raising his eyebrows.

“Looks like an N95-kinda day. I’ve got a spare, you know,” I said, gesturing to a pile of three or so N95 masks by the lamp on my desk.

Adam waved it off. “Eh, I’m good. That’s some puss shit. Let’s just run over to Crafts and Grapes or some shit, shouldn’t take long.”

I shrugged. “So be it.”

Tossing on a pair of five-and-a-half inch inseam Lululemon shorts, I joined Adam as he hopped downstairs.

“Got keys?” he asked once we reached the door.

“Yer, we out,” I said, shaking my keys out from my shorts’ pocket to lock the front door.

“Fuck,” griped Adam. “It’s actually hot as shit out here.” Smoky, red air obscured him from sight as he craned his neck to see me.

“Hence the shorts.”

Adam squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, and jutted his head back and forth, mocking me. “For sure. Forgot your MCAT-lovin’-ass could predict the future. But really though—it’s the middle of September, dude. This shit is wrong. It’s hot as balls and California is on fire and the sky is red and fools are straight-up dying off this COVID shit.”

“And you’re still an idiot,” I said, flashing a cheeky smile.

“Are you qualified to diagnose me as an idiot?”

“Maddie would say so.”

“Hence the pet names.”

“Precisely.”

“We gotta do something about this, bruh. This shit pains me to see,” declared Adam.

“Let’s start by drinking these brews. We’ll recycle the bottles after.”

We walked east on Dwight toward Telegraph, dodging cars as we skipped across the one way street. Adam was quieter than usual, for the most part, looking up from his iPhone 11 Pro Max periodically to comment on something he’d read in the news, or the glum weather. He wore a khaki short sleeve button-up, Kapital raw denim jeans with smiley face patchwork on the back left pocket, and a pair of slip-on Nike Janoski sneakers. The jeans were nice—quite expensive, from the looks of it—but looked baggy on him. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, all of his clothes  wore a bit loose on him, akin to a fiery adolescent who’d picked out hand-me-downs from an older sibling. Who that older sibling might’ve been, I’d never know—with his unwavering demeanor, Adam always seemed like the eldest in the room.

Banking right onto Telegraph, we bore the full brunt of the veiled sun, which, though hidden behind dense clouds of smoke, now revealed its penetrating UV rays. We ducked under corrugated foam polycarbonate sheets, which lined the rooftops of mom-and-pop Telegraph shops, fending off the sun’s cancerous radiation. The insanity of the world mingled with the smoky, copper air, making me delirious. I imagined I was Mel Gibson or Tom Hardy in Mad Max, feigning off flashbacks in the Wasteland. At the corner of Telegraph and Blake street, Adam pushed and held open the door to Crafts and Grapes. Nodding my head at him in small thanks, I entered, squinting my eyes as the light shifted from hazy red to bright white inside. It was a tiny store, with two aisles directly ahead lined with candy, nuts, and other inconsequential (unless you ate too many) snacks, followed by two refrigerators: one in the back, the other on the far right. Cool, wispy air emanated from the cold storage, contrasting with the late summer atmosphere only meters behind us. A bell rang as the door squeaked to a halt, prompting the middle-eastern cashier, directly to our right, to rise from his stool and greet us. We nodded back silently, all three of us clad in masks.

Per usual, Adam took the lead, striding toward the fridge directly back. He popped open one of the see-through doors with his left hand, mapping his way through its items with his right pointer finger. Finding my eyes, Adam shook his head, indicating a lack of Chimay.

“Blue moons?” I suggested. “Mango wheats?”

Adam screwed up his face. “Fuck that. Let’s go with Lags.”

“Sure, why not.”

Adam kneeled and looped his hand through the cardboard handle of a Lagunitas StereoHopic IPA six-pack. We walked over to the register where Adam made small talk with the cashier. Eventually, he tapped his iPhone 11 to an Ingenico payment terminal, finalizing our transaction. Drinks acquired.

The bell jingled as the door shut behind us once more. We hurried home, eager to crack open our drinks, intent on droning out the blistered yonder. Adam tried to explain his enthusiasm for hoppy beers while I pretended to listen. He was distracting me, though; we both knew I couldn’t care less.

Arriving home, my keys found their way to the door, and we found our ways to the couch. A tenor beep resounded through our living room as Adam’s iPhone connected to an old speaker via bluetooth. “Street Lights” by Kanye West filled the air, followed by carbon dioxide bubbles freed by an unlikely liberator—the bottle opener.

Let me know

Do I still got time to grow?

Things ain’t always set in stone

That be known let me know

I found myself back in the hand-me-down BMW 330i, with her, the white wire packed into the lightning port of my iPhone, transmitting cosine waves that replicated the robotic voice I was listening to in my living room.

“Stop!” she cried, thrusting herself back against beige, leather seats. She wanted me to press the brakes. I had to stop the car, right, stop the car. Where were the brakes?

She was beautiful, of course.

Dark, brown hair fell over eyes of the same color, guarded by double-lids that I wish she hadn’t paid for.

Hardly anyone would notice the difference, but I did, and it hurt to know that she didn’t love them.

I loved them, unconditionally, but she loved the brakes.

Needed to find them.

We’d shared a large bowl of Marafuku’s acclaimed Hakata Tonkotsu DX ramen. I’d let her eat most of it, sneaking my chopsticks in for bites at intervals.

“Pennsylvania?” I shook my head.

“What, you’ve never been?” She tilted hers. “You’ll love it. Come with me.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, smiling. “My MCAT summer is coming up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll help you study for it. Duh.”

“I’m sure Brandon would love that.”

“Will he? All the way from San Francisco?”

“He’ll make the trip.”

“Not if you do,” she said, melting my mind.

I was dizzy, sleepy, lost, a newborn. Vulnerable. And I couldn’t seem to find them.

I’m just not there in the streets

I’m just not there

Life’s just not fair

Life’s just not fair

Sonorant chimes reverberated in my ears as Adam clinked his glass bottle to mine. “Cheers,” he said with a nod.

“Cheers,” I echoed. Leaning my head back, I swallowed, allowing the cool liquid down my esophagus and into my gut.

“You good?” he prodded.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking a little. I cleared my throat.

“Pretty hoppy, huh?”

I took another sip, licking my lips after. “Quite. I suppose we knew what we were getting ourselves into. You know, given the ‘StereoHopic’.”

“You right.”

“Yeah.”

“Yo,” said Adam. “On another note—might be going in on an addy deal with Grace if you’re tryna hop in.”

I scratched my head. While I wouldn’t have any major exams in the near future (although midterms for my biochem course [MCB 102, for my fellow pre-med students at Cal] were slated for October sixteenth), I certainly had errands that might be eased by a twenty milligram dose of extended-release Adderall. There’s nothing like a thorough room-cleaning session when you’re high on stimulant drugs.

The first time I ever tried Adderall must’ve been during my freshman year, back in 2017. Midterm season was approaching—come to think of it, that was around this time that year—and our generous friend, Grace, was kind enough to grant me a ten milligram pill of instant-release Adderall. Grace and I, along with Adam and perhaps Ajay, too, were partaking in a midnight study session at Moffitt Library, which was open twenty-four-seven—prior to the pandemic. I popped the pill, chased it down with a Javiva drink from Peet’s, and got to work.

Twenty minutes later I began to feel its effects as the amphetamine altered monoamines in my brain, releasing surplus dopamine into my many synaptic clefts. Optimism filled me to the brim and my vision bent inward. I saw nothing but the iPad in front of me, my mind enamored by golgi apparatuses and various protein structures. The stimulant saturated me with a profound appreciation for all thoughts that meandered into my head; a giddiness originated in my heart, spreading down my arms, my legs, and outward across my skull, contracting then expanding once more. It was artificial love.

Eventually, I was distracted. Grace’s dilated pupils stared into mine as she chattered away  about Lin-Manuel Mir-something and a hurricane in Puerto Rico. After a second or two, my attention snapped away from cell membranes, landing instead on her words. The words of a girl from Colorado with a soft spot for the snow. I’d met Grace via Adam during Orientation Week and she’d quickly become one of my favorite people.

Gingerbread specks stippled her face like a George Seurat painting, fractal constellations arising as my eyes outlined her cheekbones. Gaps between long, chocolate locks revealed sepia collarbones, lined with descendants of the freckles on her face. A white Nike Alex Morgan soccer jersey overlaid the loose sweatpants that hung from her hips, held up by drawstrings I almost hoped would fail, concealing proportions that emulated golden ratios. Stained, white, laceless Vans hugged unpainted toes that tapped together when she spoke. Lips that scorned the artificially enlarged mouths of Instagram influencers communicated messages I was only barely beginning to listen to. She was the love interest of a nineties’ coming-of-age motion picture. But she wasn’t mine.

You know, I thought Adam might’ve loved her, but it was hard to tell when he was cycling through hookups with three different girls at a time. Come to think of it, I didn’t know if Adam loved anyone. A talker, yes; a charmer, certainly; but a romantic, I really didn’t think so.

He spent a lot of his time with her, no doubt. And she cared for him—anyone could see it. But she knew as well as I did that his head wasn’t in it. He wasn’t looking for love. He wanted to graduate, make money—to be someone. Sex seemed like nothing more than a physical need to him. I don’t think anyone would’ve described Adam as an emotionally vulnerable guy, and I don’t think anyone thought that emotion was what he kept those girls around for.

But at the same time, anyone could’ve seen what I saw in the way he bounced when she was around. Anyone could’ve heard the way he spoke about her. She meant something to him. But when you asked him about it, he’d brush it off; she wasn’t his type, or he had commitment issues (jokingly—but hey, grain of truth in everything).

Maybe she was his distraction from ambition—his distraction from latex-wrapped, emotionally removed nights and Wall Street Journal mornings, just as she was my distraction from cell structures.

For a good hour-and-a-half, Grace entertained me with conversation regarding natural disasters across the West; Broadway musical comparisons between Hamilton and Sunday in the Park with George; and the latest updates on Cal’s women’s soccer team, of which she was a huge fan. The Adderall certainly kept me focused, although not necessarily on my coursework.

“Let me know,” said Adam, tipping the bottle into the corner of his mouth. “I’m boutta text her back.”

I looked up from my lap at Adam. Right, I thought. “Sure, I could be down. Why not. Think you can pick me up two? I have some errands to run.”

“Twenty milligram XR work?” he asked as he tapped along the screen of his iPhone.

“That’ll do.”

The room went quiet for twenty to twenty five seconds as I was confirmed as an accomplice in the drug deal.

“What’s she been up to?” I asked.

“Hm?” he noised, raising his eyebrows without looking up.

“Grace,” I said. “Haven’t seen her much.”

He shrugged. “Not much, I guess. Drinking a solid amount though, from what I’ve seen.”

“Makes three of us.”

“Yeah,” he said, feigning a smile. “What about yours?”

“Maddie?”

“Yeah.”

I took a deep breath—inhaling, holding to the count of four, exhaling. “Not much of a difference, to be honest.”

“It’s not her fault, you know.”

“I know,” I breathed.

“Then talk to her.”

“It’s not like that,” I mumbled.

Adam paused.

I stared at my feet. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

He squinted. “The fuck you sorry for?”

“You know.”

He waved his hand aside, brushing it off. “I’m not tripping. Talk to her. Before I do it myself.”

I forced a smile. “Maybe it’s better off that way.”

“Here,” he said, handing me a two-foot-tall bong and lighter from under the coffee table. “Take it.”

Couldn’t stay away. My fingers gripped the paraphernalia as he withdrew. My heart quickened as the impending drug interaction approached. When it reached my lips, I lit, then inhaled, holding to the count of four, and then some. Blurry feelings rushed my mind as states of sufferance gave way to sedated nebulas, teaching me forgetfulness.