#the whole “’you have to earn your parents’ love / acknowledgment & it shouldn’t be like that’ hits very close to home

[tulsa24]

episode 4 was the shortest (or at least it definitely felt like it) but damn if it didn’t make me feel the most

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟷

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“...you can do what now?”

“Hire someone to date you,” your friend, Ava, repeats. She chuckles and waves you off dismissively. “Come on, [Name]. It’s the modern age. People are always coming up with new things these days. I’m willing to bet there’s an app or website out there for practically anything.”

You blink in disbelief. Granted, there is all kinds of crazy shit going on in the world, and you’ve heard of companionship services before—like escorts or sugar baby arrangements—but to hear that something like this is trending nowadays is still undeniably a shock. 

“Here, look,” Ava gestures, pulling out her phone. “I was curious, so I downloaded the app the other day just to check out.” 

“Uh, don’t you already have a boyfriend?”

“He knows I was just browsing. I showed him too, and we scrolled through some stuff together. A lot of the profiles on here are wild,” she laughs. “It’s crazy what people advertise they’re willing to do. Get a load of this guy. He says he’s down to meet your family and make a total ass out of himself just so that he lowers your parents’ standards and the next real boyfriend you get will look way better by comparison.”

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. “I can’t tell if this is actually real, or just some new meme template.” 

“Of course it’s real! I think you’re underestimating how lonely people these days are. There’s definitely a lot of money to be made in this industry. Just look at how much people are willing to blow on their favorite streamer, even though they’ve never met them a day in their life. Dating’s gotten a lot more complicated lately, so I guess some people just want to skip past the troublesome parts and experience what it’s like to be with someone.” 

You furrow your brows. The whole thing sounds incredibly sad when you think of it that way. People would rather pay for a fabricated relationship than put in the time and effort towards building something real? Loneliness is starting to sound like an actual epidemic nowadays. 

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t judge people without understanding where they’re coming from,” you acknowledge. “It’s not like I know what they’ve been through. Times are changing and all. It sounds like this is actually starting to become pretty mainstream.” 

Ava nods chipperly. “Yep! I mean, I love my boyfriend, so I’m definitely not the target audience, but maybe it’s what some people need to gain a little boost of confidence and get back into the dating scene. I doubt everyone uses it in a romantic sense too. There are people out there that just want a bit of company every now and then. Isn’t it nice that they have someone to spend time with this way?” 

“Yeah… I guess that’s true.” 

Honestly, you’re still struggling to fully wrap your head around this. You understand the premise well enough, but you can’t really get past the part about accepting payment just to provide someone with a fabricated experience. Then again, you suppose that’s the case for most things nowadays. People are willing to spend the brunt of their earnings on in-game purchases for video games and other things that aren’t tangible in the real world, because even though they aren’t necessarily organic, it still provides them with some satisfaction. 

Long story short, it’s not up to you to decide what does or doesn’t make someone else happy, and you suppose as long as it’s executed in a professional manner, there’s nothing wrong with meeting new people this way. 

“Hey, I’ve got a great idea,” Ava suddenly perks up. “You should join this app! You’re super pretty, smart, and nice. I bet you’d have loads of guys lining up to hire you as their girlfriend!”

“Me?” You blink repeatedly, shuffling backwards the closer she leans in. “I mean, I just don’t think I’m the right person for the job. If it makes people happy, then I support it, but deep down, I worry I’d feel like I’m exploiting someone’s feelings just for a few extra bucks. Morally speaking, I’m not so sure I like the idea…” 

“It’s not exploitation,” she insists. “People know what they’re signing up for. At the end of the day, it’s a buyer-seller relationship. Someone pays for the service being advertised, and they receive it. As long as you’re not ambiguous about what you’re willing to do for the amount that you’re charging, people know what to expect. Of course, I’m sure there might be the occasional asshole here and there, but if they do anything inappropriate or violate the terms, you can report them through the app and they’ll be banned from using it.” 

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that. Some extra money would be nice. You’re a university student with all sorts of loans, so it’s not like you’ve got excess cash lying around. And it’s also true that you’ve been looking to apply for a new job lately, since your old manager was a total ass and you ended up quitting. 

Still. A girlfriend-for-hire? Someone like you? It’s just really difficult to imagine. 

“I actually think it’d be a good experience,” Ava goes on. “You’ve never really put yourself out there before. I know everyone dates at their own pace and stuff, but you shouldn’t have to be afraid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet some cool people and want to date them for real. And even if you don’t end up going for them, you still make some money, so either way, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

You chuckle weakly. “Yeah, I just don’t know. I feel like I’m better suited for traditional jobs. But thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m glad you think people would actually be willing to pay to date me.” 

“Girl, you seriously need to believe in yourself more,” Ava sighs. “I’m telling you, you’re a catch. But at the end of the day, it’s your call. You shouldn’t force yourself into anything if you feel uncomfortable.”

You smile and nod in agreement, and sensing your discomfort, Ava decides to change the topic.

But for some reason, you feel a twinge in your chest, and it’s hard to keep your mind from wandering.

Later that same day, you’re lounging on the couch, mouth agape, having just downloaded the app on your own phone. 

“What the hell am I doing…?” 

You tell yourself that it’s just simple curiosity. Yeah. That’s all it is. Ava piqued your interest earlier, and now you just want to scroll through in more detail to get a better sense of what kind of people use this platform. 

The app is called ‘Partner For Hire’. The name isn’t particularly inspired, you have to admit, but you suppose it communicates its point rather effectively and leaves no room for ambiguity. Ultimately, this is a transactional relationship, and it’s probably for the best that clients know what to expect. 

You can use the app as either a buyer or seller. Meaning that you can create your profile and advertise your services, or simply list yourself as a prospective client and what your hobbies and interests are. In that sense, it’s kind of similar to most dating apps, since you have to take a flattering photo to go along with whatever blurb you’re providing. Of course, just because you try to solicit someone’s services doesn’t mean there’s any guarantee they’ll accept. This is an app where you can run everything yourself, and of course the company takes a cut of your profits, rather than an agency that matches you with a client regardless of whether you want to accept the job or not. 

There’s definitely a lot of flexibility, and you can easily choose who you want to pretend to date. If someone is interested in hiring you, they submit a request to be able to contact you, and once you accept, you can message them directly and establish the terms of the dating contract, such as the length and what particular services will be provided. 

You scroll through the list of boyfriends/girlfriends being advertised on the app, and honestly, it seems like there’s a decent amount of money to be made. Of course, a lot of that comes with building a good reputation and improving your ratings and visibility so more people will want to hire you, but it actually seems like a decent amount of people are able to make a living off this sort of thing. 

You bite down on your lower lip. Should you really go ahead and just do it? Like Ava said, there’s probably not much to lose. All the transactions are managed on the app, so you can easily report people who try to skip out on paying. Clients have to link their banking and personal info, so they’d be taking on a big risk by trying to scam people. You’re sure it might happen from time to time, but based on the reviews you’ve read, the company is really good at enforcing their policies and making sure everyone gets paid.

The money seems good, and it would definitely help take some pressure off your student loans, but ultimately, the biggest thing you’re struggling with is your moral compass.

People are willing to spend money for this kind of thing, and that’s entirely their choice to make, so it’s not like you’re extorting them or anything. Still… you wonder if it’s actually okay to profit off of someone else’s loneliness. You’ve never worked the kind of job that requires you to cater directly to another person’s emotions, and it kind of freaks you out.

But maybe Ava is right. There are all sorts of people in this world. Maybe some of them are just curious to try the app out. Maybe others just want to get their families off their back by pretending like they’re dating someone for a little while. There’s no way to discern everyone’s motivations, so perhaps there’s really no point in thinking about it at all. 

Most importantly, this could be a good thing for you. Life has been stagnant recently, and it’s true that you usually hesitate to put yourself out there. You’ll never learn what you do or don’t like if you keep on avoiding everything. This could be a chance to learn a lot about other people, but also, to learn more about yourself. 

Yeah. It’s time to stop overthinking for a change and just try something new. 

Thus, feeling unusually determined, you spend the rest of the day setting up your profile (finding nice selfies was the longest part of the whole ordeal), and with a resolved huff, you post it and officially go live on the app. 

You’re not really sure what you were expecting, but needless to say, there isn’t any immediate feedback. It probably takes a while for people to stumble across your profile, and even then, there’s no guarantee they’ll want to go out with you. 

I guess I was getting worked up for no reason. Certain people might find success with this kind of thing, but it’s probably not as easy as it looks. 

You scratch your cheek, suddenly sheepish over how needlessly excited you got earlier. You’re not used to stepping out of your comfort zone, so you must have gotten a bit carried away. 

For the rest of the evening, you set your phone aside and come back to reality. You get some homework done, make dinner, and by the time you’re ready for bed, you’ve pretty much forgotten about the whole thing altogether. 

That is, until you check and see that you’ve missed a notification.

“Huh? Someone viewed my profile and wants to message me?”

You’re undeniably taken aback. Not just because it’s happening a lot sooner than you expected, but also because it means that contrary to what you first thought, people are interested in you. 

Having minimal experience when it comes to dating and romance in general, you have to admit, the thought of being viewed as desirable is immensely flattering. 

Curious to see who wants to hire your services, you click on the user’s profile.

His name is Isaac, and he’s twenty-one years old, set to complete his undergraduate studies at the end of the year. He goes to a different university than yours, thankfully, because you can’t help but feel like it would be incredibly awkward to bump into him on campus after pretending to be his girlfriend. He’s studying to become a doctor, which means he’s still got a lot of school ahead of him, but you’ve always had a lot of admiration for people who are willing to commit to their goals and work hard. 

Also, even though you don’t want to sound shallow or anything… he’s really, really attractive. 

You frown. Granted, there’s more to a person than their appearance, but based on how he comes across in his profile and what his future career is, he doesn’t strike you as the type of person who would struggle to date someone.

But again, you can never know what’s going on in a stranger’s life. And there’s no real way to find out why he decided to join the app.

Apart from speaking to him directly, of course. 

[𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬?]

>>[𝐘𝐄𝐒]

After a momentary delay, the screen loads into a messaging interface, allowing you to see what Isaac sent you and respond to him directly.  

You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like he’s not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you can’t blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your life—even now, as an adult—so you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times.

All of a sudden, you don’t feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesn’t feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, you’d be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling. 

More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now. 

You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like he’s not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you can’t blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your life—even now, as an adult—so you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times. 

All of a sudden, you don’t feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesn’t feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, you’d be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling. 

More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now. 

[𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞]:

You’re admittedly a bit nervous, especially since you want to do a good job and avoid letting him down, but mostly, you’re feeling excited. All of this is uncharted territory for you, after all. Never in a million years would you have imagined taking on a job like this. 

And you really shouldn’t have.

You don’t know it yet, but this will be the cause of many, many regrets. 

Shit. I’m starting to have second thoughts. 

Even now, you still can’t believe you’re really going through with this. After talking to Isaac and ironing out the finer details, you agreed to join him for a family gathering and pose as his girlfriend. You expected for him to have quite a few requests, but luckily, he seems pretty laid back about the whole thing. The better portion of your conversation was spent on getting your stories straight so as not to incur any suspicion, and since you’ve always been a good student and a hard worker, you promptly memorized everything there was to know. 

And now, it’s finally time to put this plan in motion. 

“Hey,” Isaac greets. “[Name], right?”

It’s the evening, since his parents are hosting a dinner party. The event is supposed to be pretty casual, but you still dressed up semi-formal in the hopes of making a good impression. He never explicitly mentioned how strict his parents are, but since they’ve been on his case about getting a girlfriend, it never hurts to go the extra mile. 

"Hi, Isaac,” you smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.” 

“You, too,” he nods. He’s considerably taller than you, and every bit as handsome as his picture suggested. Unless his personality is god-awful (which you probably would’ve picked up on after messaging him for so long), you’ve got a good feeling that most girls would be interested in him.

Still, everyone is different. He might have really high standards, or maybe he wants to focus on his studies, or perhaps it’s just a case of having never met the right person. Whatever the reason may be, his parents shouldn’t be pressuring him to date someone, and if you have the means to help him out, you’ll happily do it. 

“You look really nice,” Isaac says. He tilts his head to the side. “I hope you didn’t feel like you had to dress up to impress anyone. The most important part is that they believe I’m seeing someone so that they finally ease up a bit.” 

“Oh, I just did this for my own peace of mind,” you reassure. “I made sure to memorize everything you told me in advance, so I’m confident I can convince them that we’re the real deal. Even though this is technically my first day on the job… I promise not to let you down.” 

You blush, feeling rather flustered. The idea of being someone’s hired girlfriend is still a lot to wrap your head around, and you certainly don’t want to make empty promises, but you have every intention of giving it your best shot. Isaac is in a stressful situation, and you’re resolved to do whatever you can to fix it. 

“Can’t wait to get this over with,” Isaac sighs. He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to step inside the car. “Don’t worry. I know you might be feeling a bit uneasy, but I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I won’t hold it against you if you have 911 ready on speed dial until we get to my parents’ house.” 

“I trust you,” you insist. “I’ve heard good things about this app, and it sounds like they take safety seriously. They’ve got your information in their system, after all. Plus, I can tell that you’re a nice guy. It’s just a gut feeling.”

“I appreciate it,” he smiles. “Anyways… I guess I’ve stalled for long enough. You can probably tell that I really don’t feel like going. But the sooner I get them off my back, the better.” 

“I’ll be the best girlfriend you can ask for,” you beam. 

It’s a promise to him, but also to yourself. You are committed to taking this new job seriously, and for the rest of the evening, you will do whatever it takes to blend into the role that’s been thrust upon you. There’s no reason to get worked up. At the end of the day, all of this is pretend. It won’t be anywhere near as complicated as a real relationship.

Right?

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[annemagus]

natural love potion; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader Timeline: HBP / 6th year Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.

—

“Are you done with my potion?“

“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“

It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.

They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.

“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“

The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.

"G'morning."

“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.

“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"

The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.

“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.

“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“ 

Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“

"What?" she chuckles dreamily.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.

Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“

“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“

“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.

"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."

And boy was he really the Potions Master.

The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.

Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.

"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."

He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.

"Don't you love me back?"

"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"

If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.

Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.

Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.

"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"

"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"

—

Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.

"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.

The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.

"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."

"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.

"Always here for you, mate "

"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."

The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.

The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.

“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”

"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."

On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.

Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.

"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.

"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."

Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.

"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.

"Nothing, Professor."

The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.

"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."

The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.

As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.

"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.

"Can I come with them?"

— 

Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.

The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.

As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.

He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.

The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.

He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?

Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.

“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.

“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.

“I think we can go inside now.“

The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.

Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.

“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.

“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“

“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.

“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“

“No! I’m coming with you!“

“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“

“I could never! I love you.“

Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.

“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“

The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off. 

She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"'Mione?"

"It's me."

"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."

"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"

The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"

Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.

Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.

“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“

Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.

“Why are you at my seat?”

“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.

“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“

“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”

“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.

As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.

Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.

As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.

“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.

Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.

"Quit staring, you creep."

Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."

What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.

"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."

Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.

The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.

"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"

Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.

"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."

It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.

Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.

He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.

“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.

“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“

“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.

“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”

“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”

“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.

"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”

He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.

And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.

If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.

Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.

Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.

So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.

He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.

"Weasley! Weasley!"

They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.

The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"

To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?

"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."

He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.

"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."

So Harry did listen.

In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.

He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.

And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.

Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.

So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.

He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.

Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.

"Hi."

"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.

He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.

Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?

But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.

So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.

Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.

"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"

"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."

That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.

Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.

With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.

"Harry?"

"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"

"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"

"Worse than those."

And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"

"Love . . . I'm falling in love."

Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.

She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."

—

(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader​ @harrypotterxx​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 16

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

May passes into June and they quietly acknowledge that it has been one year since the day Mulder walked into the autopsy bay. They spend their weekends watching movies, making love, and hanging out with the Gunmen, Missy often in attendance as she and Byers become somewhat of an item. Every other Sunday they have lunch with her mother, Mulder meeting Bill by way of an awkward phone call and a promise that they will come out to visit San Diego sometime soon. The moratorium on weekday overnights fades away and the days they spend in each other’s beds begin to outnumber those that they don’t.

One day in early August, Mulder laments how lonely Priscilla gets when he’s gone for the night, crying and following him from room to room when he comes home and plaguing him with guilt. Scully suggests that he bring her over with him, setting up a litter box and food bowl in an unused corner of the living room. Without the daily need to care for a cat, he spends more and more time at her apartment, his suits taking over half her closet and his T-shirts occupying one of her drawers. He still has his fish to feed and so they can tell themselves that they don’t technically live together, though it’s been weeks since anyone slept at his apartment. The excitement of new love gives way to the familiar comfort of domesticity, questions about their lives prior to meeting morphing into what they’re having for dinner and whether someone can pick up toilet paper on the way home from work. They each visit the doctor for a full workup and, everything coming back clear, stop using condoms, relying on the progestin shot Scully goes in for every three months to prevent pregnancy.

Far from boring, they find worthy sparring partners in one another, debating everything from whether the moon landing was a hoax to the merits of String Theory, arguing their points of view passionately before they agree to disagree and then let their clothes fall to the floor. They discover the things they love best about one another; Mulder’s unrelenting curiosity and Scully’s bottomless compassion, as well as those they like the least; his forgetfulness when he’s focused on something and her tendency to shut him out when she’s upset. Whether completing a crossword puzzle together or watching Jeopardy, they embrace the ways that they are different and how they balance one another out; his creativity to her order, her planning to his impulsivity, his acceptance to her skepticism. Yin and yang, tall and small, bold and tempered; there is a completeness in their union that makes them each feel whole.

Even in their intensity and their commitment, Mulder has never again uttered the words ‘I love you’ and Scully has never said them at all. Far from a red flag or a hesitance to be vulnerable, they simply don’t feel the need to express it aloud. She knows he loves her when he drives forty minutes out of his way to pick up her favorite donuts or reads the latest issue of JAMA just so he can discuss the articles with her. He knows she loves him when she indulges him in theoretical discussions on the mating rituals of Sasquatch, not bothering to point out that the creature doesn’t exist, or wastes entire Saturdays watching movies that were bad enough to earn Razzies because he finds poorly made films entertaining.

Scully has never met Mulder’s parents, accepting his explanation that his mother is cold and his father distant, which is why she feels caught off guard when he calls her at work on a Tuesday to tell her that his mother had a stroke, and he is on his way to the hospital. He doesn’t ask her for anything, but she leaves work anyway, approaching the reception desk of the emergency department with a level of calm only a doctor is capable of.

“I’m looking for Teena Mulder, she should have been admitted within the last few hours,” she says to the young woman behind the desk.

“Yes, she’s here,” the woman answers, “but visiting hours don’t start until 4:00 and someone is already with her now. Are you family?” The woman looks at her expectantly.

“Um, no, I’m not,” she replies, not bothering to explain that Tenna Mulder is her boyfriend’s mother, who she’s never met.

“You can take a seat then,” the woman says with a well-practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

She finds an empty seat and pulls in a deep breath, taking out her cell phone in hopes she can reach Mulder, though cell reception in hospitals is notoriously bad.

“Excuse me, are you Dana?” someone says from a few seats away, and she turns to see an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with receding dark brown hair and tired bags under his eyes.

“Yes,” she replies, eyeing him skeptically as he rises from his seat and takes the one just beside her.

“I’m Bill Mulder, Fox’s father,” he says, offering his hand.

She takes it, scanning him for similarities to Mulder and finding none, other than his complexion and hair color.

“Oh, hello, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Mulder,” she stumbles, a bit confused. As Mulder tells it, his parents are divorced and not on friendly terms.

“Please, you can call me Bill,” he says with a small smile, and she nods. “Fox is with her now, though I don’t think she’s awake,” he offers.

They sit in awkward silence, Scully realizing she has absolutely no information with which to start a conversation. Mulder has told her nothing about his parents, aside from the details relevant to his sister’s abduction. She doesn’t know what Bill Mulder does, or did, for a living, or where he lives. Just when she’s considering going home, Mulder emerges from a set of double doors.

He was clearly looking for his father, but when he sees Scully his eyebrows knit and his chin puckers in relief. She stands and he scoops her up, squeezing her so tight it hurts.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispers hoarsely into her ear.

They part, hands clasped, and he addresses his father.

“Mom just woke up, you can go see her soon, but since Scully is here I’d like to take her back first.”

Scully gives him an incredulous look.

“Mulder, I’m sure your mom doesn’t want to meet me for the first time from a hospital bed,” she pleads.

“I know, but I want you to look at her chart. I just want to make sure that what the doctors are saying is accurate,” he says with desperate eyes, and she nods.

He leads her back through the double doors and into a room where a tall white-haired woman is reclining in the bed, an oxygen cannula tucked under her nose. While she saw little resemblance between Mulder and his father, the likeness to his mother is almost jarring; her stately nose and hooded eyes curating in Scully an immediate fondness for her. She blinks slowly at them, confusion furrowing her brow.

“Mom, this is Dana,” he says, and her expression shifts into one that is slightly pained.

She attempts to speak, one side of her mouth rooting for words that she can’t quite find.

“Hi Mrs. Mulder, I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances,” Scully offers, “I’m a medical doctor, Fox asked me to take a look at your chart, if that’s okay?”

Teena nods and closes her eyes, and Scully goes to retrieve her chart from near the door. After she’s looked it over, they say goodbye and return to the lobby to find Mulder’s father.

“Go ahead, Dad, I’ll see you in there,” Mulder says, and then walks Scully to her car.

“So, what do you think?” he asks as they stand next to her open car door, worry crumpling his features.

“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, Mulder. Her stroke was significant, you can see that by the degree to which it’s impacting her speech and gross motor function. It shouldn't get any worse, but she’ll need to go through rehab, and likely need some in-home care for a bit until we know the long term impact. It’s very possible that she’ll be able to continue living independently, but not right away.”

Mulder heaves a big sigh and nods. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit, but I think I’ll be home before you go to bed.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” she replies, bringing her palm to his cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you, again, for coming down here. You didn’t have to.”

“Mulder, of course I did,” she says with concern. “I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”

He kisses her one, two, three times, pulling her close for a beat, clinging to her for dear life.

“I love you,” he chokes out, and she hugs him tighter.

“I love you too,” she replies, her chin tucked tight into the crook of his neck.

When he releases his grip on her, she brings her hands to his jaw, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks.

“We’ll get through this, okay? We’ll figure it out,” she assures him, and he nods tersely.

———

She’s in bed reading, Priscilla curled up on her stomach, when she hears the thunk of the deadbolt.

“Mulder?” she calls out, and he pokes his head through the door.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll be in in a minute,” he says, then disappears again.

He returns ten minutes later, shower-fresh and warm. She sets her book aside to envelop him in her arms, his head finding a home on her chest as his arms snake around her ribcage.

“How is she?” she asks as she strokes her fingers through his hair and down his neck soothingly.

“The same,” he says with a defeated tone, “they might release her to rehab tomorrow.”

“And how are you?” she asks, giving his neck a little squeeze.

He groans. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“About your mom?”

“No,” he says, propping up on his elbow to look at her, “about life, I guess.”

She lifts her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t want to toil away in the BSU for the rest of my life, Scully. If I die tomorrow, what will I have to show for it?”

She frowns at him sympathetically.

“You make a difference in the BSU, Mulder. You help catch murderers, prevent further loss of life. It may not seem like it because you’re so far removed from the people it impacts, but you do.”

He flops back onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

“You’re probably right, but it still feels pretty pointless.”

“What would you rather be doing?” she asks gently, rolling on to her side to face him.

“Honestly?” he steals a glance at her before continuing, “investigating The X Files. Making progress in understanding what happened to my sister. Working to expose those who are responsible for the coverup of secret government operations.”

“Maybe you should talk to AD Skinner, try again. Maybe The X files could be reopened,” she says softly, brushing her palm over his arm.

Mulder shakes his head. “Nothing has changed, Scully. They won’t let me operate without a partner and no one wants to work with me.”

“I’d work with you, but that’s against bureau policy,” she says with a small smile, and he looks at her with an affectionate gaze.

“I’m sure you’d have a field day debunking all my work,” he says coyly.

“I would never,” she retorts sarcastically.

He rolls back towards her, pulling her close with her head tucked under his chin.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, his voice full of emotion.

“Well you do have me, so there’s no point in thinking about it,” she replies.

He sighs deeply, reaching past her to turn off the bedside lamp, and they sleep.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 3

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

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

The dinner was an interesting affair. Everyone was gathered around a large table that could easily fit several more people. Marinette was sitting between Damian and her mother; on the opposite, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass took the seats. She was glad that they were all people she knew well enough. It was overwhelming. Before, Christmas was always just her and her parents. Occasionally, Nona came too. And there was this one time when she was five when her great-uncle visited. This was much too crowded. 

Damian gently squeezed her hand, reassuring her that it was alright. She ate some, but the nerves made her lose appetite quickly. She was in Gotham. Celebrating Christmas with her husband’s family. Husband… She was going to have a panic attack. She wasn’t ready. 

“Habibti. It’s okay. Everyone here’s a friend.” Damian whispered into her ear, seeing she was spiraling. “Nobody is going to judge us on anything.”

“But I didn’t make any gifts for the Kents. And I didn’t know your eldest brother had a daughter! And I’m a total klutz. I will probably knock over the tree and it will fall and set the house on fire and you will end up homeless or someone will get hurt and then your family will hate me and the Kents will hate me and I…” she kept whispering faster and faster until she was finally starting to feel the need to breathe or pass out. The jury was still out. 

Seeing her daughter’s panic, Sabine also grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Honey, let’s go get some fresh air.” She said loud enough for people close to them to hear before leading Marinette outside. Nobody batted an eye when the pair passed them. 

Once the two were in the back garden, Mari felt her legs give up under her and if not for her mother, she would have probably collapsed. The woman held her tight and led the girl toward the bench, which was luckily not covered in snow. 

“I’m so sorry, Maman. I don’t know… I just felt so overwhelmed. There were all these people and I was really meeting my husband’s family and friends for the first time and I guess I was not prepared for all this…” She was speaking fast. 

“Don’t worry sweetie. I understand. Did I tell you how, when I met your Nona for the first time, I accidentally flipped her over my shoulder and pinned her to the ground?” Sabine asked, smiling understandingly at her daughter. 

“No! Really?”

“Yes. Well, in my defense, she surprised me with a gun that shot candies.” 

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at that. It did seem like something her Mémé would do. 

“She was shocked at first and I was afraid I hurt her. Instead, after that, she decided that I was apparently worthy of dating her boy and gave us her approval.” 

“So… the moral of this story is that I should flip Talia over for them to accept me?” Mari asked with a cheeky grin. 

“That too, sweetie. I can even lend you something from my bag if you want a more… permanent effect.” 

“Maman!” 

“Fine…” Sabine grumbled goodheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about fitting in or how they will perceive you. I’ve seen how that boy looks at you and I approve.” She smiled. “That’s all that should matter.”

“Thank you maman. I’m glad you’re here.” She hugged her mother as the two sat together on the bench, enjoying the evening chill until the cold became irritating instead of refreshing.

-------

When the two returned, the dinner was nearing the end. Marinette noted seven burning holes on the ceiling but didn’t comment. There was also a plate on fire next to Jason that he seemed adamant not to acknowledge. Also, Mar’i and Jon were levitating above the table and playing rock paper scissors, except they used the props. Silently, Marinette walked to take a seat next to Damian. Her mother went over to talk a bit with Bruce about something.

“Um… Why is Jason’s plate on fire?” She asked, very much confused. 

“Tt. He wanted a souffle on fire.” 

“We’re already at desserts?” The girl asked, surprised. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cass staring at Tim and Stephanie with a strange gaze. It wasn’t hostile, but rather, she couldn’t really name the emotions present. 

“Yes. I saved you some maracons. You love the strawberry ones, right?”

“You made me prefer lemon ones.” She smiled. “The subtle sourness really brings out the sweetness.” 

“Of course it does Angel.” He smiled. “Sadly, we sit next to Brown, who will devour anything with sugar in it.”

A devious grin appeared on Mari’s face. “Really now?” She reached over into her purse to pull a small box where she kept the power-up cookies for her Kwami. “Tikki… will you mind if I give her a burnt-red one? You know which…”

For a moment, it looked like the Kwami wanted to protest, but then the small goddess noticed the plate of cookies was empty. “Go for it, Marinette. It won’t hurt her.”

“Stephanie! I’ve got a spare macaron I can share,” she smiled at the blonde girl. 

“Gimme!” She almost leaped like a gremlin, her eyes in a slight daze.

“Uh-oh. She is experiencing a sugar rush. I think she ate the whole plate herself,” Tim spoke from his seat, eyes slightly worried. 

Mari handed over the macaron and watched as Steph ate it. It took only a moment for her face to flush red and tears to appear in her eyes. “Water!” She said with a hoarse throat. Tim handed her a glass, but when she downed it, the burning only increased.

“Oh no! I forgot to warn you! It was made with ground hot pepper instead of flour… silly me!” Mari said, keeping the cute smile on. “I would advise milk.”

When Stephanie ran to the kitchen, followed by Tim laughing and Cass and Damian smiling, the older boy turned to Marinette. “You are devious.” 

“She shouldn’t have eaten so many cookies,” the girl shrugged. After that, she actually started to enjoy the evening. It might have started a prank war later on, but for now, she was safe. 

---------

After dinner, the crowd moved to a large living room where adults took seats on the couches or chairs while most kids and teens sat on the fluffy carpet. Alfred was walking around and handing the wine glasses to adults and hot chocolate to the youngsters. Clark opted for hot chocolate as well, which earned him a round of teasing. 

Since everyone was staying the night, there was no need for designated drivers. When Tim and Stephanie tried to get their hands on alcohol, Alfred slapped their hands. More laughter followed. 

Marinette sat there, cuddled into one armchair with Damian, observing everything and looking cute. 

“...I’m just saying, Bruce. You could smile a bit more in costume too. It wouldn’t kill you.” Clark finished a short speech.

“Work and homelife should stay separate,” Tim spoke up from his spot on the floor.

“Which doesn’t stop you from smiling. You’re not a Buckingham Palace guard.” Lois pointed out.

“To be frank, you could smile a bit more often, B.” Dick supported the enemy.

“It would be bad for the image,” Bruce mumbled. “If anyone saw Batman smile, it would ruin my years of hard work.”

“Diana disagrees.” Kor’i smiled. “She actually said once that ‘a smiling bat looks pretty handsome’.”

“I’ve seen a smiling bat!” Mar’i shouted from her spot on Jon’s knees, the two of them acting like nice siblings. It secretly irked Damian, but he wouldn’t ever voice that thought. “There was a cartoon!” 

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Sabine couldn’t help but rub it into Bruce some more. “Did he also have a cape, like Bruce?”

“Yes! And he walked on two legs!” 

“See? I think your image doesn’t need to suffer.” Tom joined his wife. His English wasn’t that good, but he could get by. “Maybe you could get a cartoon about Batman? Ladybug had her own movie and a song dedicated to her.” 

“Ladybug?” Jonathan asked. Marinette immediately tensed at the mention of her superhero name. She definitely did not want to reveal herself to everyone here. It’s not that she didn’t trust any of them, since all of them knew about Batman and co., but she felt uneasy. The fewer people knew, the better. 

“Parisian superheroine.” Sabine clarified.

“We sure didn’t hear about her back in Smallville.” Martha insisted, smiling. “Then again, we don’t really keep with the news from the old world.”

“There was this terrorist in Paris that used magic to turn people into temporary villains. He was finally defeated recently. I think you’ve seen all the ladybug decorations.” Tim explained in broad terms. 

“Ah! Right. I was wondering about the ladybugs…” 

Damian noted that his beloved was tense and decided that it was a moment good as any other to spring up the surprise. He shifted slightly, signaling that he wanted to get up. Marinette, who was still holding her cup, immediately sprung onto her feet. She thought he maybe wanted to leave somewhere or speak with his father alone. 

Instead, Damian hit the side of his hot chocolate cup with a spoon three times, gathering everyone’s attention. 

“Tt. I wanted to say a few words. This will be important so shut up you lot.” He cleared his throat before continuing in a mostly emotionless voice that most people associated with his ‘Ice Prince’ persona. “Marinette. When I first met you, it was not from our own free will. The bitch that is my mother forced our hand and tied us together. But we got to know each other out of our own free will. Nobody forced me…” His head snapped toward Dick. “Tt. Don’t you dare, Grayson.” Seeing his brother raise his hands in a surrender gesture, he carried on. “Nobody forced me to come to Paris. Definitely, nobody forced you to actually accept my courting. To this day, I am left wondering why an Angel as you would actually agree to go out with me, but here we are.”

The people watched with rapt attention. Marinette just stood there, unable to voice a coherent thought. She had no idea what was happening, but a deep red blush had made its way onto her face when he praised her. 

“You were so full of passion and joy and it reminded me a bit of Jon, but without the irritating factors.” 

“Hey!” The boy protested. A murderous glare from Damian shut him up quickly. 

“As I was saying, you were perfect in my eyes. I was taken away by your kindness. There are no words to describe my feelings.” His tone was still emotionless and monotonous, but Marinette could see that he was doing his best to actually see this through. “I can say without a doubt that I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

All air was suddenly sucked from Mari’s lungs when he fell on one knee and pulled out a small black box. Inside was probably the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. There were three flowers on a golden band. In the center of each, there was a shining diamond, surrounded by smaller stones. The petals were made from pink stones that she suspected were also diamonds. Were there even pink diamonds? All in all, it looked beyond words. 

“Will you do me that honor and become my wife?” When he finally asked, she could feel the world spinning. This was… this was better than in any of her daydreams. And not only because instead of Adrien there was Damian. 

The words died in her throat. She had to sit down to not faint. “Yes…” She whispered weakly, so only Damian could hear. The boy smiled brightly (a rare sight to be sure) and put the ring on her finger. 

Her gaze fell on the band he had on his own hand. It was silver with a large black stone in the center of the band, surrounded by eight diamonds. The Black Cat Miraculous she realized. 

An applaud arose from several places in the room, but some of the guests were confused. 

“Aren’t you two too young to get married?” Johnathan asked, scratching his head. 

“Tt. Technically, we are already married where I come from. This is for my wife’s content and nothing else.”

“Married?!” The old farmer asked, scandalized. 

“Tt. That’s what I said. Now can someone please get my Angel some water? I think she is about to faint.” 

“Um… I would also be very interested in the story…” Clark joined his father. He wasn’t exactly that much scandalized, but confusion was clear on his face. 

“I promise I will explain everything. I think we should give the two some breathing space…” Bruce proposed hesitantly. 

“I will help get Mari to her room. I think she has had enough excitement for today,” Tom offered.

“I am also turning in for the night, Father. I trust that between you and Miss Cheng they will get a full story. Sans the private parts of course.” He glared at him. 

“I will make sure of that.” Sabine quickly cut any protests.

“Good. Good night everyone. And Merry Christmas or whatever.” With that, he left, wanting to catch up with Tom and Marinette.

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

Masterlist // Next

[peaches-writes]

as you awaken

description: as you slowly regain consciousness, an angel comes to you with comforting words, a pack of cigarettes, and a playlist of hopeful songs member: changbin word count: 6.7k genre: fluff, angst, sci-fi au (black mirror’s san junipero-inspired), strangers to lovers au (a bit of a whirlwind romance if you will lmao) warnings: explicit language, mentions of coma, terminal illness, injuries, car accidents, death, alcohol, smoking (please drink and smoke responsibly) notes: my main (and late!) halloween gift! it’s like signal no. 4 rn but fuck it i wrote this last night and today + you don’t have to watch san junipero (but it’d be cool if you do!) but basically it’s explained as a simulated reality for people (usually the elderly, terminally ill, and the deceased) 

“So, what are you in for?” 

You immediately look up from your own can of Cola to your 'tour guide’ on your right just as he proceeds to sip on his chocolate milkshake after breaking the rather awkward silence. Seo Changbin is his name from what you could remember against the loud 00s music of TCKR’s where you met earlier this evening and what your nurse back at the hospital told you, you remind yourself again in case your still hazy mind accidentally forgets again. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“What are you in San Junipero for?” He simply and patiently repeats for you again, returning your gaze this time with a genuinely anticipating expression for your answer. He then offers you the cigarette pack in his other hand, most probably at noticing your hunched shoulders and darting eyes around the half-empty diner, but you’re quick to politely decline, even mustering up a small smile towards him in reassurance. “If it’s alright to ask, I guess. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

Changbin then leans back on his booth, taking another long sip of his drink as you purse your lips in thought, bringing both the glass and his pack of cigarettes back on the table in between the two of you only when you’ve sighed in resignation and shifted in your own seat to answer. “Coma,” You eventually answer after a moment, earning you a nod of understanding from him. “from a...from a car crash.”

He then props an elbow up right next to his milkshake, leaning forward and resting his cheek against his open palm. “How long now? If it’s alright to ask again.” He asks next with utmost carefulness and a small hint of reluctance.

You bite down on your bottom lip and briefly dart your eyes elsewhere at this, once again in thought. Even without him telling you upfront, you could tell that Changbin seems to think a lot about being careful in his way of asking you questions to not scare you off, knowing that it’s your first time visiting the virtual San Junipero. It comforts you, especially since this is your first time talking to someone who isn’t family or hospital staff about your current predicament, but you still can’t help but feel hesitant. 

“It’s okay.” You hear him in your brief pause, encouraging a small smile on your face at his thoughtfulness. “I wouldn’t hold it against you or anything, I promise.”

“Thank you.” You nod in acknowledgement, slowly finding the comfort to rest your tensed shoulders and sit back more comfortably in your own seat. “I, uh, it’s been two years from what they told me but I only just regained enough consciousness to be able to communicate last week.” 

In front of you, your companion’s eyes widen in amazement. “O-Oh...shit...shit, I’m so sorry for that. A-And you said it’s your first time here tonight too? It must’ve been tough.” He murmurs with deeply furrowed brows, to which you quickly assure him that it’s okay with a shake of your head. He then cautiously reaches his free hand to pat your shoulder comfortingly, leaving his palm open on the table after. “You’re very strong, Y/N, I hope you know that.” 

“T-Thank you, uh—it wasn’t—I mean I was completely unconscious until recently so it wasn’t...all that bad, if I could say that. But still, thank you...” Again, you find yourself shaking your head reassuringly but this time, your voice unconsciously stutters as you respond. “They said...well they said going here to San Junipero’s going to help me recover faster, though, that a lot of comatose patients these days go here all the time to help them get back on their feet so I’m putting all of my hope in my visits here.” 

Changbin nods in agreement, instinctively picking up his milkshake again to take another sip. “It does, at least from what the other visitors similar to you have told me before.” He agrees verbally after, briefly glancing over your shoulder as if in thought. “Visiting the town helps you be familiarized with mobility again and improves mental health—’with the added bonus of the nostalgic setting’ or that’s what the pamphlets to this town says. I don’t know about the last part—it’s not like I’m from the 80s or something.”

You fiddle absentmindedly with your own Cola can as he speaks, a thought suddenly crossing your mind towards the end. Hesitantly, when he finishes speaking, you then ask, “So...I’m guessing we’re not in similar situations, then?” 

The boy in question blinks twice slowly, completely thrown off-guard. No one’s ever asked him about his own story before in similar conversations, you assume. “N-No.” He shakes his head after a brief pause, the slight change in his tone confirming your suspicion. “No, um, I’m a resident here.” 

And for the second time tonight, you’re flustered once again. “O-Oh...oh, I’m sorry.” You quickly apologize, burying your face in your two hands. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked...” 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago, anyway.” 

When you peek in between the spaces of your fingers, you see him shrug with a casual, almost relieved smile. “Still, I’m so sorry.” You frown at him, slowly removing your hands from your face to fold them on top of the table. “I should’ve known better not to ask. I mean, you are touring me here so I should’ve quickly connected the dots instead of—”

“Seriously, you don’t have to be sorry, we’re in San Junipero, anyway.” He exhales a patient sigh, reassuring you further with a chuckle. “It’s pretty normal to talk about it, especially when you’re a permanent resident. It’s a...it’s a way to comfort the self, cope with death, something or somehow...”

When you don’t speak immediately, opting instead to chew on your bottom lip again, he then shifts in his seat and gestures over to you before asking, “Like, okay, go ahead ask me what I’m in for.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, no, go on. Ask me.” 

Changbin chuckles when you prolong your mini staring contest, nodding on to encourage you to ask until you sigh in defeat under his gaze and finally ask, “Okay, then...what are you in here for, Changbin?” You squint your eyes and lift a hand up to bite on your thumb. 

“Cancer...mostly.” He’s quick to answer, making your eyes widen. Before you could apologize again, however, he adds, “Like I said, though, it was a long time ago—three years now, I think? Just, I was a senior in high school from what I can remember.”

“Oh my God, I’m—” You immediately hold yourself back from apologizing again when Changbin raises a seemingly teasing eyebrow at you, making you exhale a sigh. “Uh, so, d-did you...did you choose to be a resident here?” 

“At first, it was my parents calling the shots, I didn’t know much of the place beforehand.” He answers with a shrug before taking another sip of his milkshake. His other hand finds his cigarettes again but you notice him hesitate, you can’t figure out why. “When the they started running out of options for me, ebertone thought it too early for me to pass on so they asked me to try San Junipero out. Went for a few visits like you are right now, fell in love with the place, I guess, so here I am.” 

You try nodding along to his story, your lips frowning in empathy. “I’m so sorry again, Changbin.” You tell him once he’s finished out of courtesy, making the boy smile. “I...I don’t know, it’s not everyday you met people who’ve—who’ve die—passed on. I really...I really don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“Well, you’ve said enough apologies now, if that’s what you’re concerned about. And just call me Binnie now, Changbin’s a bit too formal at this point of the night, don’t you think?” He chuckles at you, effectively easing your flustered expression again. After a moment, as you then take a sip of your Cola, a thought then crosses his mind and he pokes on your elbow with his free hand, quickly regaining your attention. “But you can say something else to me, though.” 

“What is it?” 

Changbin sends another soft smile your way, placing his hand on top of your arm this time. “Heal well through your visits here.” He answers sincerely. “So you can continue living for a very long time after this.” 

A heavy feeling drops down to your stomach at this gesture and you end up nodding quickly. “I will.” You promise with a sigh, making the boy smile once more.

The following week, you find yourself standing a whole two meters away from the edge of TCKR’s roof, waving puffs of smoke out of your face as you ask Changbin, “Are you sure this is safe?”

In response, your guide briefly takes his cigarette out of his lips with one hand and takes your hand with the other, gently tugging you to the edge of the roof. “Yeah, it’s safe, don’t worry, doll.” He chuckles before blowing another hit, this time making sure his mouth’s away from your general direction when he exhales. “Anyway, if you fall, I’ll try catching you—or the system will!”

“What?!”

Before you could protest any further, however, you’ve already reached the edge, the billboard sign for this week on your left and Changbin taking another step forward to sit on the elevated area to your right. Instinctively, you cling onto your companion’s arm in horror, prompting him to grin in amusement. “Y-Ya!” 

“Since it’s a virtual town with, you know, all sorts of people uploaded into a system—you can’t technically die here.” He explains, gently tugging on your arms wrapped around his again to coax you into sitting down. When you shake your head, he’s quick to retract your steps back a little. “Though some people do for fun—they get into fights, overdose on the drugs and alcohol and whatnot—the pain’s not as great as when you’re alive in the real world. In fact, you can adjust the pain settings however you like.”

You want to ask him if he’s done it himself, by the way he’s so casual about it (and by the way he’s so casual about everything, in general), but he beats you to it before you could even decide on asking. “I haven’t done it, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not planning to, either.” He quickly points out, glancing at you over your his shoulder in concern when it takes long for you to reply. “And I won’t let you fall over the edge, I promise. I got you.”

“Promise?” You repeat, your gaze unconsciously flitting over to the city ahead and below you. 

From the corner of your eye, Changbin nods with a hum, tapping on the back of your hand to catch your attention again. “Promise.” He repeats sincerely when you turn your gaze back to him. “Just don’t look down.”

It takes Changbin a few more words to get you to sit down, especially when he himself clumsily trips on nothing when he does get you to walk towards the edge again, but you eventually manage after a moment by clinging onto the boy’s free hand for dear life. When you do sit down, however, your breath immediately catches in your throat at the sight of the twinkling streetlights almost blending with the stars in the night sky ahead of you, washing you with a wave of comfort that dissipates all of your worries. “Wow.” You murmur under your breath in amazement, prompting Changbin to heave a sigh of relief. “Just, wow...it’s so beautiful up here.”    

“That’s San Junipero for you.” He shrugs once you’re comfortable in your seat. His one hand’s still in a death grip under yours but he manages to not drop his cigarette pack and lighter by fitting them in his other hand. “So...cigarette?” 

When you notice the hand he’s using to hold his cigarettes closer to you, only then do you loosen your grip in his hand. “Sorry,” You apologize, more to his hand than to the cigarettes. “I, um, I don’t—I mean, I don’t think I can smoke yet. It just...I can’t right now.” 

“Oh...oh....it’s fine. It’s fine.” He nods in understanding, more to your hand as well than to the cigarettes he returns inside the pocket of his cardigan before re-adjusting the one already in between his lips. With his other hand, he then takes your hand in his again, placing them in the space between the two of you. “And you don’t have to let go if you’re still scared. I got you, remember?” 

“Thanks.” He makes you smile at this, your hand unconsciously tightening your grip in his once again but this time more comfortably. You then look on ahead once more, folding your legs up from dangling on the edge into a crisscross position. “It’s really beautiful up here, though. It’s like seeing the world.”  

“It could be all there is to the world, at least in this town.” Changbin muses out loud next to you, finishing his cigarette not long after. “There’s barely 1,000 residents here but the place just keeps expanding to cater to the tourists.”

You nod along, propping your free hand up on your knee to tilt your head comfortably towards Changbin as he speaks. He’s long discarded his cigarette on his opposite side now, blowing the remaining smoke upwards to the sky as he leans back with his free hand behind him. “But still, it feels endless here—or maybe it’s just because I can only visit at night when the horizon’s barely visible.” You then shrug once he’s finished speaking, alternating your gaze between him and the buildings ahead. It feels less scary to look down now, with his hand tapping patterns on your knuckles. “Do you think...Changbin, do you think it’s the same with the real thing? The afterlife, I mean...” 

“Maybe, maybe not, I wouldn’t know myself. Technically, this is already my afterlife.” The boy answers, making you frown. When he notices it from the corner of his eye, he then chuckles. “Don’t frown now, doll. It doesn’t actually bother me thinking about what I’m missing out on when I’m already enjoying here. It’s nothing.”  

“But still—” 

Before you could finish your thought, however, Changbin’s already repositioned your hands into a more comfortable hold. “Hey, it’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up too much over it.” He assures you with a gentle smile. “And you shouldn’t be thinking too much on these kinds of things. You’re going to wake up after this, it’s not good to think about death when you’re already doing so well, hm?” 

You eventually nod, heaving a sigh of relief. “I-I guess. You’re right...and thanks, for the last part, I mean.” You muster up a small smile. 

Changbin simply hums. “You can ask me and tell me anything but just don’t dwell too much on the afterlife part, okay? I can tell it worries you the most but you seriously don’t have to think about it right now.” He affirms. “I really do believe you’re going to wake up so you should too.” 

You didn’t tell him for the rest of the night that, beforehand, you didn’t actually believe that you’re ever going to wake up fully from your coma, but his soothing tone and conviction somehow single-handedly convinced you more than anyone has in the past two weeks that you’ve been semi-conscious. When you part at the end of the night, you think to yourself that you’ll never forget Changbin, not for the world. 

On your fourth visit, TCKR’s has somehow fully revamped itself into an 80s themed bar with its pink and blue neon signs, house music, and endless rows of the same Galaga game. It’s not your era nor is it Changbin’s, obviously by the way he keeps shamelessly admiring himself and his now slicked back hair at every reflective surface the two of you would pass along which makes you laugh each and every time, but you try blending in as much as you can, anyway, by dancing to the more popular songs that would play and trying to learn how to use the arcade games by not-so-discreetly looking at other people. 

“So, are we, are we the only people our age around here?” You ask him in between games of Pac-man and glasses of beer towards the end of your 6-hour timed visit. You still won’t accept Changbin’s offer of a cigarette no matter how much he tells you that it ‘technically doesn’t matter when you’re in San Junipero’ but he does make fun of you for biting on your straw instead whenever he would catch you in the act. “I’m a bit shy to ask the others around here.” 

Changbin inserts a quarter in the arcade game and takes a sip of his Cola first before answering. “Nope, there are other kids here like us; most of them are just a bit picky with the eras they want to hang out in this place.” He explains to you, opting to steal glances at you while playing another round of Pac-man as you make conversation. “You’ve met a few of the kids on the dance floor tonight, though, like Felix, Minho, and Hyunjin. Those three are just so obsessed with the 80s.” 

You hum in thought, leaning your entire weight on the side of the arcade machine as you watch Changbin’s gameplay. “And what’s your favourite era, Changbin?” 

“I haven’t decided on that yet.” He scrunches up his nose, mostly in frustration at his game. Still, it makes you chuckle against your drink. “I don’t usually hang out here when I’m not on ‘tour guide’ duty.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah.” He nods absentmindedly, finishing the game not long after. Turning to you, he then folds his arm on top of the arcade machine and leans against it, mirroring you. “There are more public spaces around town than just TCKR’s. It just happens that this bar is kind of like the center of it all since this is where the tourists usually stay at for most of their visits.”

“So where else can you hang out in around here?” You ask next, taking a sip of your Cola after. “I already know the diner next to my ‘hotel’ so where else?”

The boy in front of you pauses in thought, eyes darting everywhere as he thinks. When be does speak, you see him snapping his fingers in front of him before he looks up at you and says, “Ah, well, there are a lot more restaurants, parks, malls, and stuff around the residential areas if you want to visit those—they’re always adding according to what the residents want—but, personally, I love going to the beach here. It’s just South of this bar.” 

Your eyes widen at this, eliciting a playful smile on his lips. “The beach? You have a beach here?” 

Again, Changbin nods. “Of course we do, Y/N. They have everything here, nostalgic therapy, remember?” 

“W-Well, can we go?” You ask next, trying your best to hide your excitement in front of him. “I mean, am I allowed, as a tourist?” 

“Yeah, you’re allowed.” He assures you before briefly glancing up at the wall clock on the main bar not far behind you. “But your time’s almost up for tonight. We’ll have to go on another time if you really want to.”

“Really?” Your eyes visibly light up, to which the boy nods again at. 

“Next week Friday again but try asking your nurse back at the hospital if you can visit at daytime, around 10 AM.” He instructs you, your gaze lighting up even more at the unfamiliar request. “You can meet me here as usual and we’ll drive to the beach.” 

When your visiting time does run out and you find your consciousness back in your comatose body, you instinctively call for your nurse with the computer with the monitor attached to you by the same wire as the machine connecting you to San Junipero’s cloud. Bang Chan then comes running in his red scrub suit just after your third alarm, a paper cup of coffee and a thick blue clipboard in his hands.

“Sorry, Dr. Young made me do the midnight inventory—again.” Chan sighs in frustration, handing you a modified pager to relay your thoughts as he packs up the San Junipero program’s portable machine. “Anyway, what is it, Y/N? Are you okay?”

With slow hand movements aided by the custom pager’s added feature to accurately read your thoughts, you then type out, Can I go to the beach next week with Changbin?

“Yes, of course!” Upon reading this before taking the portable machine away, your nurse then nods. “Some time around 10 AM, right?”

How did you know?

“Let’s just say it’s what’s considered the best time to go to the beach, according to the people around here.” Your nurse only smiles sadly at you with this question, gently patting your arm once before taking the pager with him as well on his way out. “Now, rest well, Y/N, you have a date next week!”

It’s not a date, you muster up all of your limited muscle movement to frown at him to which he only chuckles at before fully leaving your room, leaving you to your thoughts once again. A small smile then makes its way onto your face. 

-

“The breeze is so refreshing, I missed this!”” And you do, Changbin can clearly tell by the way you have your arms freely raised up to your sides to feel the summer breeze as you run around the warm sand and cold waves of the beach when you meet again. Against the soft morning sunlight, you seem much more relaxed, a complete contrast to the other two times you’ve met at night. “San Junipero’s even better in the daylight!” 

When you briefly stop running to turn back to him, seated on the hood of his black Jeep parked on the side of the highway, you only see him grin and wave fondly at you. Today, he’s discarded his usual cigarettes for a pair of headphones and a playlist he played for you on the way here. “Do you like it?” He only asks you, voice loud enough to echo across the vast expanse of the beach. 

“I love it!” You answer, giggling even more when the waves catch up to your feet. “It’s a haven here, Binnie.” 

Changbin then joins you not long after, discarding his slippers next to yours and bringing his phone along to play you a song he made when he was still alive. “It’s called ‘For You.’” He explains as a cheerful melody begins to play, followed by his voice. The two of you sit close to the waves once you get tired of running around and splashing water at each other, the waves now barely tickling your feet as they approach. “I made it with some friends before I came here.” 

“You can upload material things here too?” You ask, gesturing to his phone. When the chorus plays, you hear a familiar voice but you can’t seem to pinpoint who it belongs to in the moment. You remind yourself to ask him later when you get the chance. 

Next to you, however, Changbin shakes his head, pulling his legs closer to his chest to rest his chin on top of his folded arms. “This version’s mostly from memory. You can materialize anything here but it’s best to do so from what you know or remember.” He explains, a sad smile gracing his features. “You can listen to out there, though. Ask your nurse to look it up on Soundcloud.” 

You reluctantly let out a playful scoff, making him laugh as well. “The last thing I expected you to do was promote your Soundcloud.” 

“It’s much better on Soundcloud, promise.” He insists anyway in between laughs, glancing over to you briefly and smiling when you return his gaze. “Anyway, are you cold?” 

He tries shrugging his leather jacket off but you stop him before he could successfully do so, placing a hand on top of his while shaking your head. “It doesn’t bother me as much, I like the cold.” You assure him before retracting your hand back to your side. “I used to live by the beach so I’m quite used to it.” 

You see his interest visibly pique at this and he turns to you with raised brows. “Oh? Really?” He asks next, prompting you to nod enthusiastically in confirmation. “What was it like, your life before this, I mean?” 

You sink your hands into the sand, extending your legs out once again to the waves as you then recall your life to him. “My family lives by the beach—mom, dad, brothers—but by the time of the car crash, I was already living in a dorm at university.” You bite down your lip towards the end, hesitating a bit towards the next part. This time, however, you recover quickly than the last time you’d hesitate in front of the boy, reminding yourself of what he’s told you the last time. “I, uh, I was actually on the way home when the crash happened. Some drunk college students from a beach party were driving along the coastal when they suddenly swerved to my lane and collided with my car.” 

“I’m sorry...” He gently nudges your shoulder with his and you send him a comforting smile in response. “...I’m sorry about that, what happened to you. You didn’t—you didn’t deserve any of that, not at all.”   

“It’s fine now,” You shrug with as much casualness as you can. You slowly take in another breath, sighing against another gust of wind that blows by. “Like you said, it helps us cope, right? I’m actually glad you took me to the beach today. I think it’s definitely helping me feel better about all of this.” 

“Still, they should’ve—you shouldn’t have been in that accident somehow.” Changbin sighs and when you glance to his side, you see his knuckles briefly turning into fists until he notices your gaze towards him. “I’m sorry, I—”

You shake your head, leaning back even more on your hands. “Tell me about your own life before this instead, Binnie...” You prod him gently, smoothly steering the conversation away from you. “If it’s alright.” 

He nods slowly. “Hm...right, right that’s—that’s fair...” 

And so, you spend your remaining five hours just talking about your lives by the beach. It eases Changbin’s frustration over your story by the way you ask him about his passion for music and love of horror movies and though he still asks you about your own life, you make sure to not dwell on too much on your own accident. 

You thank him before you go. 

“What for?” He asks with an awkward laugh and furrowed brows, just barely thirty seconds before you leave. 

“For listening—and understanding.” You answer plainly and the boy’s eyes widen in surprise. “For encouraging me to talk about what happened to me and not look at me pitifully like the people outside do. I really needed all of that.” 

His immediate response, you catch it clearly, is to heave a sigh of relief. “I’m just giving you the kind of helping hand I missed out on when I was still alive.” He nods casually to which your heart immediately melts at. “Not everyone can understand us well, even with our differing situations. You should be able to talk it out without feeling burdened by everyone else around you.” 

With ten seconds left on your clock, you then hug him tightly, catching him off-guard and disappearing before he could even hold you properly. 

“Thank you so much, Binnie.”

- 

Chan? You call for your nurse again before he could leave with the portable machine, stopping him just before he could head to the door. 

“What is it, Y/N?” He asks, the same proud and teasing grin he’s donned since you recounted your day to him still plastered on his face. 

Can you put music on? 

Obligingly, Chan then balances the portable machine to his hip with one hand and reaches for the phone and speakers your younger brother, Jeongin, left on your bedside table when you first started regaining consciousness. “Your pick or my pick?” He then asks next, setting up the Bluetooth connection first before glancing down on your pager. 

Changbin said he made a song called ‘For You.’ Can you play that for me please? 

Chan stops halfway, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat that you almost miss with the way he immediately covers it with a smile. “Sure, Y/N. Playing it...right now...” He eventually nods, turning his attention back on the phone to play your requested song. “I’ll play it from a playlist so just call me back in if you want to change it, okay?” 

Yes, thank you! 

When he leaves and more songs play in through the small Pikachu-shaped speakers, only then do you recognize the one other familiar voice as your nurse himself. 

“You know, I’ve been listening to your music the past week.” You confess to Changbin, finally accepting a cigarette and his lighter from him as he drives through the endless main highway of the island against the darkening skies of the sunset. The same songs play softly through the speakers, starting with one he sang on his own called ‘If’ that almost lulls you to sleep after most of your 6 hours spent at the beach if not for your desire to talk to the boy more. “I love all of them, especially this one.”

Changbin’s careful to not accidentally lose control of the steering wheel in any way with his flustered state, clearing his throat awkwardly in the brief silence. “You listened to all of them?” 

You hum happily in confirmation, leaning back into the soft cushions of the front passenger seat as you then lift your bare feet up in between the dashboard and the open window. “I also asked Chan about you.” You even add, grinning when he looks back at you with genuine and delightful surprise. “You could’ve just told me you were making music with him, you know—gave him a bit of a surprise when I kept requesting your songs to play all afternoon and night by the second day after my last visit.”

The boy ends up chuckling, swiftly turning the car left at an intersection. “Chan and I—he took care of me in my last months under his internship.” 

“And you grew up with him, too...” 

“Yeah,” He nods. “High school, with two other guys, Jisung and Seungmin. Those brats are probably studying in college now.” 

“Can’t they visit now, though?” You ask, having intended on asking the same question with regards to his parents. “And your parents too?”

“They’re stricter with visits from non-patients now, something about visiting too much having negative mental effects in the long run.” Changbin explains with a long sigh. “They’re allowed to visit once a year—Chan every 6 months since he works at the hospital—but it’s not all the time they could visit, given their schedules.”

“Really? Is that so?” You frown, propping an elbow up on the window next to rest your cheek against your knuckles. When he nods, you end up mumbling, “Ah, I should stay asleep longer then...”

“Hm? He asks, glancing over to you longer.

You gaze sadly back at him, a gesture he’s quick to catch and ask if you’re okay. You nod back at him in response, explaining, “It’s just—I can—I can move now, out there I mean...”

“Oh...” You see him hesitate as he then gives you a proud smile, half-shrugging after. “Then that’s...good, isn’t it? That means you’re almost done here.”

“I know but—” You bite down on your bottom lip in thought, pausing briefly as you think about your next words. When he takes another look at you, the car gradually slowing down until you’re suddenly headed to a bay area on the side of the road, you hesitantly continue, “hearing what you said just now, then that means I might not be able to see you for a long time once I’ve recovered...”

By this point, Changbin’s already parked the Jeep rather haphazardly at the bay area, the lights blinking into the darkness and the rare other cars passing by. He twists his body under the seatbelt to face you, another one of his fond smiles on his lips as you look on with worry and sadness. “Still, being with me here’s nothing compared to being able to live again out there.” He points out to you, reaching a hand out for your free one in between the two of you. “And it’s just maybe 12 months from now, you’ll be occupied with much more interesting things once you’re back on your feet and time will run its course just as it should.”

“But I like spending time with you...” You murmur almost helplessly and, you couldn’t read it from his seemingly casual expression and the darkness enveloping the two of you, but with just these simply words, Changbin’s heart immediately picks up its pace in the most unfamiliar manner since he’s been a permanent resident in San Junipero.

“Because that’s the purpose of you going here.” He tells you, anyway, more to convince himself than you. “To mentally get back on your feet so you’ll recover faster once you’re able to fully wake up.”

When you don’t speak on it immediately, he then adds, “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here, anyway, if you ever want to visit.” 

You want to say something else, confess something else to him, but as you glance at the clock right above the radio, only then do you realize that there’s only a minute left until you’re leaving again. “Once a year starting from when I recover...it still feels too long just thinking about it right now.” 

Following your gaze, Changbin only musters up a sad smile but insists otherwise, anyway. “It won’t be if you don’t dwell too much on it.” He shrugs, a bit more shakily than he wanted to let out. “So, I’m guessing this is your last official visit as a tourist, then?” 

You hum. “Maybe...” 

As if on cue, the clock strikes 5:59 AM. 

“Then promise me one thing.” He suddenly says, immediately catching your attention. 

“What is it?” 

“Remember when we first met?” Changbin asks, leaning over the brakes now as he tries his best to scoot closer. You nod in response. “You’ve healed well in the short time you’ve been here. So...when you go back to the physical world and, hopefully, wake up fully after...you fulfill your second promise and live a very long time after this, okay?” 

You nod immediately, extending your hands out to him for a hug. Before you could wrap your arms around his neck, however, he leans in first and cups your face in his hands, catching you off-guard with a soft kiss to the forehead just as your time runs out. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

-

Chan and Jeongin are the first people you see afterwards, as soon as you’ve fully awoken in your physical body. The older boy heaves a sigh of relief, disconnecting the portable San Junipero machine from you with a soft smile, while your younger brother only looks on, asking you afterwards about the stray tear on your cheek. 

“Can you reach out your hand to Jeongin, Y/N?” Chan asks after running a few other quick tests with you. He steps to the side, motioning your brother to sit closer to your bed after. 

In response, your hand, though still quite limp and shaky, slowly reaches out for your Jeongin’s. He clutches onto you tightly once you’ve succeeded, a big grin on his face. 

“Thank God, welcome back.” Jeongin smiles happily, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug.  

It’s Halloween of the following year by the time you manage to return to San Junipero as a non-patient visitor, the entire building of TCKR’s heavily decorated for the occasion in a mix of the 2000s and 2010s and your hotel wardrobe consisting mostly of basic magician and vampire costumes. The crowd has grown significantly larger from what you remember of your last visit and the music is now starting to catch up with the times outside but you manage to find Changbin through Felix, who tips you off of his whereabouts once he faintly recognizes you wandering around the arcade area. 

“You look really well, by the way!” Felix comments as he drives you to the beach, two encouraging thumbs up peeking out of the steering wheel and a bright grin on his face. “Chan updates us like a proud dad whenever he visits for maintenance. Last time he was here, he told us you’re back in university!”

You grin sheepishly and nod in confirmation at his words. “He tells me a lot about you guys too whenever I visit him.” You add, leaning back in your seat as you roll down the windows next to you. “I’m glad you’re even happier than he’s described.” 

“Ah, you should definitely see Minho and Hyunjin later, those two are having the most fun.” Felix nods along, just as you reach the boardwalk. Parking on the sidewalk, he then opens the door for you using the buttons on his side of the car. “Meet us at the other end of the beach if you have the time, okay? We just moved in a new house nearby and a couple of other kids are coming over for a small gathering!” 

“Ah, well, I’ll think about it. Thanks again, Felix.” You then bid him goodbye with another smile and a wave, opening the door next you with your other hand after. “Goodnight!”  

Eventually, you spot Changbin by the faint song that he listens to against the crashing of the waves. It’s definitely new that you had to walk a few steps closer to fully confirm that it’s him, finishing another cigarette stick and enjoying a bottle of soju, and so you let him finish the song first before calling his attention. “Changbin.” 

He immediately glances up from his drink and looks up at you in surprise, making you laugh at how reminiscent your current situation is of the first time you met. When he doesn’t speak immediately, mouth simply agape and cigarette long forgotten in his hands, you wave awkwardly and take a few more steps forward until you’re seated right in front of him. “Hi.” You giggle. “It’s me.” 

“Y-You’re...are you—?” He stutter out worriedly, immediately prompting you to shake your head. 

“Just visiting, for now.” You clarify, briefly swiping the soju bottle from his other hand to take a swig before setting it down on your side. “You said I could visit as a non-patient once a year after I got discharged so here I am. I wouldn’t miss this one for the world.” 

And again, he repeats, “Why?” 

“I just...” You trail off, shrugging towards the end with a soft smile. “I spent time with someone here, at first to help me recover from my coma but as time went on, I—I ended up liking him a little too much to just leave and never come back.” 

You then watch as his surprise turns into relief, a relieved sigh escaping his lips as you speak. Once you’ve finished speaking, he’s quick to envelope you in a desperate hug, pulling you flush against him and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“I’ll still fulfil that promise I made last year, to live a long life after the accident,” You mumble against his black shirt, making him chuckle through the tears that start falling on your shoulders. “but in between, I’ll take every chance I can get just to see you—until it could be my own time to join you already.”   

“Y-You’ll—you’ll stay here...after?” He asks cautiously after, hesitantly pulling away to get a better look at you. 

“Will you wait?” You ask back. “Ten, twenty years?” 

He nods, almost instinctively, kissing your forehead once more. “Even if it takes fifty or a hundred. I have nowhere else to be.” 

@skzwriternet​

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 140: The Slug Club

Twilight mist still hung in the air around them, and the deserted station left an odd taste in their mouth as the scarlet train hung behind them without moving off for once. Steam was still pumping out of it, there were even a few pets waiting on the ground cooing or hissing at them for their owners sudden departure as the eight of them landed in Hogsmeade station.

Peter had landed painfully on a bench and didn’t feel up to moving. Regulus stumbled into seemingly nothing to him, though thankfully the Thesteral only gave him a look of mild annoyance and didn’t take a snap. The dejected look he gave James and Sirius before stalking onto the train to be alone was heart wrenching to Peter, but he really didn’t know how to help with this one, he still had his own issues to work out with those two idiots, even if he had thought the prank had its merits and could have been funny under better circumstances.

Spotting the book down in the tracks of the train, he swallowed uncomfortably and watched for several extra moments to make sure it wasn’t going to spontaneously try to run him over as he eased himself down and darted back up with his prize in hand before following Regulus in even if he didn’t know what he was going to say.

There was only one compartment with all the curtains drawn, and Regulus was sitting inside chewing on his cheek so hard Peter had to fight the urge to tell him not to bite through his face.

He sat down across from him and opened the book with a whispered, “thanks.” Regulus smiled and nodded while Peter started, but kept pausing for extra breath than was needed just in case, offering company but silence at least for whatever Regulus wanted.

Things had been going so well there for a moment, Regulus wanted to sob on his new friend's shoulder like a child. He’d really thought Sirius was trying to rekindle some old familial bonds with the two games and asking after him, but he couldn’t get the look not really Sirius had given him out of his head, and his brother hadn’t even apologized! Like he should be laughing the whole thing off like Potter had clearly wanted to back in the shop, obviously annoyed as piss at him still. Even Peter had clearly found the whole thing funny, but at least he was restraining himself from saying so and acting normal.

Regulus listened as Harry’s friends blew off Harry’s aspersions of Draco being a Death Eater though and at least found that of some interest. Harry and his mates got into fights every year it seemed over something or other, maybe he really was still being a child hoping his brother would just go back to agreeing with him about everything. He could still get along with him even if they had a different idea of what was fun now.

He was not going to be like his parents, he genuinely regretted now losing his temper and he shouldn’t expect Sirius to act exactly how he wanted him to at all times or he would be just like them. He’d either take his brother as is or not at all, and he still wasn’t sure which yet.

Frank was still detailing for Lily exactly what the invisible horse looked like as she ran her hand in wonder over the silky main she couldn’t see. They weren’t covered in blood, so the thestral gave no indication it even cared they were there anymore than Trevor hopping past them.

They were blatantly ignoring Potter as he amused himself setting up some fireworks he’d filched from the last location, because setting those off was really the best way to make everything better apparently, even if none of them would deny enjoying the show when he did.

When they saw Alice coming over though from her landing, she gave Frank a careful look and whispered, “please try to talk some sense into her,” and left them to it, going a few carriages over and then inside of one.

“Are you two really mad at me I don’t agree with you?” Alice asked in surprise as she watched the display. They’d once even agreed with her to try interacting with them more before Snape’s not too distant future hurt Lily so bad, and Sirius’ future had imploded their lives again.

“No,” he said at once, taking her hand. “She just has no confidence in herself, telling Snape off for so many years and him never listening to her, she doesn't think you can help them anymore than I do. I still don't understand why you bothered," Frank told her, aware of how harsh he sounded, but he worried his kindhearted girlfriend was going to be quickly abused by that arse. Agreeing to not avoid them didn’t feel the same as involving themselves in their lives like she was now actively trying to do.

"What Harry said really bothered him Frank," Alice patiently explained, not letting his tone affect hers one bit. "Then, this future, it's really getting to him, and with his mates still all on the ropes, I think it wouldn't hurt to offer an olive branch. He listened too, he was quite polite back there in the kitchen."

"So he knows how to charm people, we know that from only getting half the detentions he should," Frank shook his head. "I'm still on Lily's side, if you keep indulging them they'll never learn."

"They're not exactly figuring it out for themselves at this rate," she smiled. "Going round in circles like they are, trying to make everybody laugh rather than talking it out. Regulus and Potter aren't shooting each other looks anymore, I think they cleared the air and that helped a bit. I don't regret it," she finished sincerely.

He sighed in defeat, he knew he couldn't really stop her nor was he going to actively try even if he did disapprove, but tried one last time, "thought you were staying out of it?"

"I am, as much as they ask me to," she shrugged. "James didn't, he was very attentive and open even if he didn't say much."

Frank kissed her temple and squeezed her hand but let it drop as he pulled her over to the carriage Lily had gone into, piling in themselves and listening avidly to the new Slug Club.

Sirius came over to lean casually against the same carriage as him like Remus wasn't obviously still pissed at him. Sirius clucked his tongue when he received no acknowledgment, he’d given up a front row seat to those fireworks for this, but said cheerfully, "Prongs thinks I slipped you a love potion, it's perfect right? You'd be a little grumpy if I did, and now you have an excuse for your excellent flirting and groping techniques."

"Flattery doesn't get you everywhere Sirius," he grumbled, even if he did turn his head around so he could see the eye roll that earned.

Sirius just preened at the attention, as usual. Why did he have to have a crush on the biggest prat at Hogwarts again? He smiled then, that one he only ever used in the dorms for them, and was still leaning against his shoulder. Sirius had done something he explicitly hadn’t wanted to, just for him in all this, so the real question should have been what had he done to deserve such a kind hearted friend.

"Here," Sirius suddenly dug something out of his pocket and handed him a bit of parchment. "My bucket list. Would you relax and think about having some fun for once!"

Remus gazed down and felt himself flush just a bit, some of this was quite raunchy and he had no idea what at least one of those was. He meant to fold it up carefully and put it in his own pocket as a show of good fun at least, already trying to plan in his head how to subtly get Sirius off the idea he didn't need others. Padfoot really was doing his best to mature from just an impulsive hot-head, which had been endearing enough for how fun that unpredictable side could be even with the downfalls of it. This new mature thing he was trying was somehow even more- his fingers didn’t finish the first crease as he realized there was writing on the other side and flipped it over. His stomach dropped.

"That's a list of others you could hook up with too," Sirius leaned casually against his shoulder and began jabbing at a few names, some of them even surprised him. "The ones I check marked I've personally been with, just in case that bugs you too for some reason, but the others I'm pretty confident about from reliable sources. I could give you a list of gals too, if you want."

Traitorous tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and he quickly crumpled it up, shoving it into his pocket without looking at Sirius or anyone. Merlin he was being such a nancy, Sirius had never been subtle in his life about his many hook ups and he'd never given one indication to Remus that would change just because they were doing it now!

Sirius did care about him, just not the way he wanted, and he would just have to live with that. It was more than he'd ever dreamed in his life he could even have friends when he came to this school, what the hell was he even doing risking that on a fling?

He cleared his throat and was very pleased with himself when he sounded perfectly normal. "Thanks Padfoot. Do you mind, I'm trying to pay attention to what Malfoy's up to?"

Sirius shrugged and left Remus to his thoughts, he had more than enough fun shouting abuse at the top of his lungs at what that Slytherin did to his godson anyways as he joined James to gaze up at the fireworks.

[nonagesimus]

this is all debbie @gaysuperhell fault

Looking back, it felt like Brady lost Jess and gained Sam in the same night.

Some party, right at the start of sophomore year, and Jess had come back after Summer with an edge and vicious smile she hadn't had the year before. Familiar, but something had changed, and she was partying harder, and rolling her eyes whenever Brady tried to ask her about it, and he'd stumbled into her at some frat party where she was being followed by some kind of behemoth. This dude so tall that he made the whole room look slightly off, because people just shouldn’t be that tall. Scrawny, still, just... big.

Jess, already looking frustrated, saw him and said, "Oh, hey, it's Brady, you guys have so much in common, you should be best friends and both stop bothering me." And she'd shoved this guy in Brady's direction and disappeared into the crowd

And the guy had watched her go, sighed, turned to Brady and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Brady," he'd said, accepting the handshake.

Maybe it wasn't that immediate. Jess had still been around after that night, and it wasn't like he and Sam had gotten together immediately. But looking back that was the bit that stood out.

After that it was seeing each other at another party, running into each other at the library, Sam casually asking if he wanted to get lunch on a study break, Brady equally casually asking if Sam would want to come to his dorm room and watch a movie. And that same movie night when some dumb joke made Sam laugh so hard that Brady leant over and kissed him until he stopped.

It became a little less casual, and a little more deliberate after that.

Brady got ready to go home for Thanksgiving, and Sam didn't. Late one night, tracing his fingers along the veins in Sam's forearm, he asked, "Are you out to your family?" They didn't acknowledge the silent is that why you're not going home that was asked alongside it.

"No," Sam said, voice quiet, nose pressed into Brady's hair. Even quieter. "I'm not, but they don't- We haven't spoken since before college."

Brady pulled him closer.

He went home for Christmas, but stayed for spring break, and he was biting his lip at flights around the date dorms close for Summer and wondering. Sam already had an apartment he was moving into, a shitty, one-bedroom that was probably far enough away from campus to cause an issue, but Sam just chirpily referred to as, "within budget." Brady was already feeling guilty for not thinking about this sooner, if they could've got a better closer place if he hadn't already been moving into a house with some friends, if he should've broken that promise to move in with Sam. If he should be staying for the Summer. He'd asked if Sam wanted to come to stay with his family, but Sam still got cagey about the fact that Brady's parents knew he existed.

Sam, ever practical, just shook his head at him. "Do you want to go see your family?"

"Yes," Brady said.

"Then go," Sam told him, with a kiss to seal it.

Brady sighed. "What if I come back a little early?" he asked. "My place won't be ready yet, would it be alright if I stayed with you for a couple weeks?"

Sam's smile answered the question.

But when Brady did come back, cramming his clothes into the little room left in the apartment, Sam was unhappy. Not at Brady, at least it didn't feel like it. Like, Sam was pleased to see him, he was just distracted, and frustrated, and edgy. Brady arrived on a Thursday and then by seven on Friday evening Sam had disappeared, and wasn't answering phone calls.

He got home sometime approaching dawn, still looking angry, with the stink of stale beer clinging to him, and piles of worn, folded twenties in his pockets. It took Brady a few minutes to realise he wasn't as drunk as he smelled, though he definitely was drunk.

They fought, and they'd fought before but Sam had always wanted to communicate. This time he was recalcitrant, and stubborn. An hour of trying not to wake the neighbours later, and he still hadn't even told Brady where he'd been for ten hours.

"Would it be better if I didn't stay here?" he asked, finally.

Sam flinched. "Do you want to go?"

"That's not what I asked."

Sam nodded, swallowed, the mulish look still on his face. "I gotta take a shower," he said, like he expected Brady to be gone by the time he was done.

When he did come out of the shower, in damp hair and sweatpants, Brady was sitting on the shitty couch he'd helped haul from where Sam found it on the sidewalk, curled up in a pile of blankets they’d found at a Goodwill. The anger wasn't there anymore; instead he looked stricken. Came to the couch, crawled into Brady's arms, and whispered apologies into his neck.

"I don't want to go," Brady said, softly, a little later. "But I want to help you and I can't if you don't talk to me."

Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "There's this dive bar a couple towns over," he said. "Just shitty beer and people making bets on pool, so I went to play a few games."

The confession seemed strikingly out of character, Brady tried to keep his tone neutral. "You left to hustle pool?" At Sam's affirmative noise he continued. "So, what's going on? Do you need the money?"

"No," Sam said, quickly. "No, I mean- I'll use it, but I don't need..." He sighed, wet eyelashes fluttering against Brady's neck. "It's what we did."

And slowly, as the sun rose, a story came spilling out about growing up in motel rooms and back rooms at bars. Of winning cash playing pool, and darts, learning how much to stumble and slur without overdoing it. Driving hours between towns, being the new kid in every school, right up until he left for college. Brady could read novels into the number of things Sam still wasn't telling him, but it was the most he'd spoken about how he grew up ever. So he didn't push, he just rubbed Sam's back and let him talk.

"I guess it's just. It's my junior year," Sam said softly. "It's been two years, and I just..."

"You miss them," Brady said, when it seemed clear Sam wouldn't continue.

"Yeah," Sam said.

Brady didn't let it get far past Christmas before confirming when Sam's lease ended, and at Sam's quizzical look saying, "Well, you don't want to renew this place, right? I'm not going all the way to campus from here every day next year."

Sam's smile was bright, and easy. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I'm not asking," Brady said, slipping his hands into Sam's back pockets. "I'm assuming. It's very rude of me, but am I wrong?"

So it went.

Senior year, and they were in one side of a rundown duplex, but it was theirs. With Sam's shitty side-walk couch, and dents in the walls from moving Brady's heavy-ass bed frame, and textbooks scattered everywhere. And Sam was considering coming home for Thanksgiving, finally meeting Brady's parents, and it was Halloween, and he still wouldn't wear a costume, but he came to the party, and let Brady toast to his victories, and he smiled.

Brady woke up to him getting up to go to the bathroom, and rolled over into the warm spot he left behind to keep dozing.

Only he wasn't getting up to to the bathroom; there was a thud and muffled voices, and when Brady got up to find him having a hushed conversation with a stranger in a leather jacket, illuminated by the street lamp shining through the window

“Sam?” he asked, still a little hoarse from sleep, and the bar. “What’s going on?”

“Brady,” Sam turned towards him, a look on his face Brady had never seen before. “This is Dean.” He swallowed, hard enough for Brady to see. “My brother.”

“College boy has a roommate,” Dean said, giving Brady a brief once over before looking back to Sam. “How domestic.”

And that was enough to spark something in Sam, to straighten his spine and have him striding across the room to sling an arm around Brady’s waist. “He’s my boyfriend, actually.” His voice was decisive; Brady could feel his heart skipping beats beneath his palm.

That knocked Dean back for a moment - he gave Brady a slightly more thorough look but didn’t comment. “Well, tell your boyfriend I need to borrow you.”

It became clear Sam wasn’t budging, and Dean wasn’t thrilled. There was obvious intent in words, “Dad’s been on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a couple of days.”

Sam’s frustration couldn’t be clearer as he shoved clothes into his backpack. Their apartment was not big enough that Dean couldn’t see them from where he leant against the bench in the kitchen - shit he could probably hear them. But, as much burning curiosity filled Brady’s stomach towards Sam’s brother, Dean was not who he was worried about.

“You know you don’t have to go,” he said.

Sam shot him a brief smile. “It’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t,” Brady said. “I said you didn’t have to go. Three years, they didn’t even call?”

Sam sighed. “I know. But it’s my dad, y’know. And hey, Dean knows about you now, maybe I’ll be on a roll and when we find dad, I’ll tell him too.”

“I could not give two shits what your dad thinks of me,” Brady said, earning a genuine smile that time.

“Look,” Sam said, gripping Brady by the hips and pulling him close, “It’s just a day or two. We’ll find him, and I’ll be back for my interview on Monday.”

“Good,” Brady said, hands sliding to the sides of Sam’s neck. “See, I’m planning to be some hotshot lawyer’s kept boy in a few years, and I’d hate to have to find a new candidate now.”

Sam laughed at that, and said he’d call. They exchanged I love yous, and Brady kissed him goodbye, and if he’d known it was going to be the last time he’d see Sam he never would have let go. But he didn’t, so he watched them drive away in Dean’s loud car, and went back to bed, and sent one last text message that said ‘u better fucking call’ and went back to sleep.

[latetaektalk]

how to love | lmk, wyh [1]

“being born without a soulmate doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love. it just means that nobody is going to fall in love with you. and so, you have made your peace with the fact that your best friend, mark, is never going to love you the way you want him to. but when you are forced to go to a support group for people without soulmates and a certain wong yukhei, your support group partner or what you prefer to call him your sponsor, stumbles into your life, your whole world is turned upside down.” 

genre: soulmate!au, love triangle! au, support group! au, unrequited feelings! au, in love with your best friend! au, fluff, angst

pairing: mark x reader, yukhei x reader

word count: 9.863

warnings: cursing,

playlist: falling in love at a coffee shop - landon pigg, sunkissed - khai dreams, a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be - jess benko

a/n: this took too long to finish, but the first chapter is finally here! this chapter kinda feels more like a prologue in my opinion, but at the same time, it’s not one? anyway, i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed working on this and writing it.

You heard Mark before you saw him. He had always walked a little too loudly, had always stepped with a little more weight than necessary. It was one of the little things about him that had never changed over the years, had never changed over your nine year old friendship, and you didn’t want it to. By now, you were used to it, in fact, you were so used to hearing his heavy steps that you could identify him simply by the way he walked.

So, when you heard the heavy steps from outside, you turned around and looked out of the big window. Your eyes followed Mark as he walked up that little path to your house. You watched him climb up the handful of stars to your front door with his hand running through his hair.

And as much as you didn’t want it to, your heart skipped a beat, skipped a beat not only because Mark looked absolutely beautiful, but also because he was here, for some reason. You hadn’t made any plans, but here he was, about to show up unannounced at your doorstep.

This wasn’t new. Both of you had done this more times than you should have, had dropped by out of the blue before, but it had been a while since you two had last done it.

So, yes, you did get a little too excited when you heard his heavy steps, did snap your head around a little faster than usual, did feel your heart thump in your chest a little harder.

And you wanted to roll your eyes at yourself because you had seen Mark this morning, had sat next to and talked to him in class a couple of hours ago, but this was different. You just couldn’t help and interpret a little more into this, into this visit. 

You knew you shouldn’t, knew you shouldn’t because not only was Mark your best friend but also because unlike you, there was a little bit of black covering his wrist. 

Unlike you, he had a soulmate, waiting for him.

And just as Mark was about to ring the bell, his gaze wandered, and before you could look away, his eyes had landed on you. Both of you stared at each other through the window, grinning. His arm returned to his side again and immediately, you knew what that meant.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket, and stood up from your couch to shuffle out of your living room. When you opened your front door, both of you just looked at each other again, silently and with grins adorning your lips.

In those seconds of silence, it felt like it was just you and him in this world, felt like everything revolved around you two and you two only. It was one of those moments you two would share every now and then, one of those moments that had your heart beating a little too quickly and the butterflies spread their wings in hope, one of those precious moments that you wished for to go on forever and ever, one of those moments that belonged to you two, was for you two and you two only.

One of your moments.

“Are you going out, honey?” 

Your grin disappeared when you heard her voice,  and you turned around to look at your mother. She still had the apron tied around her waist and a ladle in her hand. It was obvious that she had rushed out of the kitchen when she had heard the front door click open.

“Mum,” you sighed.

“Yeah, we’re going out.”

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, Mark,” your mother said and a smile tugged on the corners of her lips when her eyes landed on him.

“We are?” you asked and turned back around. Mark smiled at you and nodded at your question, eliciting only a frown from you. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Well,” Mark hummed, pausing for a second, “you wanna go out then?” 

You opened your mouth to decline because now, you had to, but Mark was quick to cut in again.

“I found a venue.”

Your eyes grew big and you needed a second to process his words, register them.

“Wait, seriously?”

Mark grinned at your words, and you forgot all about how you had to decline his offer to go out. A smile started to tug on your lips and it grew a little more when he nodded at you. 

“Where-”

“A venue?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and swallowed the rest of your sentence.

“Why do you two need-”

“It’s nothing,” you said and turned to your mother just in time to see her whole face fall a little. Your heart ached and cracked in your chest a little bit when you saw it. A part of you wanted to explain yourself, tell her why you needed a venue, but another part very much didn’t want to do that.

“We’re throwing Jaemin a surprise birthday party,” Mark explained, and you looked back at him, miffed just the tiniest bit, but he didn’t acknowledge you at all. 

“I didn’t know that,” your mother said and Mark and you locked eyes now. He gave you a look, a look  you had been on the receiving end of for some time now. You should be used to it by now and to a certain extent you were, but at the same time, you were very much not. It still bothered you, still had your teeth grinding. 

“When did you two start to plan-”

“I’ll tell you all about it later, yeah, mum?” you asked and tried your hardest to keep your tone levelled and neutral. You turned your head to your mother again. She looked at you before her gaze wandered to Mark for a few seconds and ultimately, back to you.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Over dinner, maybe? Your father’s getting off work early today,” your mother smiled with a tilt of her head, and you knew exactly what she was thinking right now, hoping for.

If you were completely honest, you wanted to say no, wanted to say no because having dinner meant everything was normal when it was not, when it hadn’t been for too long now.

“Yeah, sounds-” you sighed a little, “good.”

Your mother beamed at your answer, and you pressed your lips into a thin line, eyes finding the floor.

“Promise me?”

You could feel a lump grow in your throat and Mark staring holes into you right, ready to jump in if you were to say the wrong thing. 

“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled, but your mother heard it.

“Great,” she said with the biggest grin, and your heart tightened in your chest. “I’m gonna go back into the kitchen again. You two be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. There’s no need to worry,” Mark called out as your mother made her way to the kitchen again, steps quiet and delicate.

Your eyes locked with Mark’s and you raised your brows at him, a tiny smile pulling on the corners of your lips.

“‘Yeah, of course. There’s no need to worry.’,” you teased with a slight scoff and earned yourself an eye roll from Mark, but you could see the smile tugging on the corners of his lips too. 

“Just shut up.”

You didn’t bother to say anything more, and yanked on your cardigan that you had always hanging next to the front door. You slipped into it and your loosely tied sneaker before grabbing your keys from their hook and letting them slide into your pocket.

You looked around one more time, thinking for a moment if you needed anything else. When you thought you were ready to go, you clapped your hands together.

“Let’s go,” you said and you were about to push past Mark, but he stopped you and held you back. 

“Are you sure you wanna go out like that?” he asked with a slight edge swinging in his voice, and you raised your brows at him before looking down at yourself.

You were wearing an old T-shirt you had stolen from your father a long time ago. There used to be a very obvious stain of ketchup in the middle of it, but after many rounds of laundry it had grown so washed out that it wasn't noticeable anymore. Black shorts served as your bottoms and unlike your T-shirt, you had only bought them last summer. If anything, they were boring. 

Did you look glamorous? No, by no means. In fact, you looked a little messy and maybe too comfortable, but you didn’t see a problem with it. Mark was as dressed up (or, well, not) as you. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” you asked and looked back up at Mark. He stammered a little, and you only raised your brows more at his silence, waiting for an answer.

“I-” Mark didn’t finish his sentence which was for the best because slowly you were getting offended. He was quick to pick up on that, and closed his mouth before shaking his head and offering you a smile. “Nothing. It’s completely fine. Let’s just go.”

For a short moment, you contemplated confronting Mark on it, contemplated asking him why he cared about the way you dressed all of a sudden when he had never before, but you decided against it and shrugged it all off.

“Going out. Bye,” you called out over your shoulder, but you didn’t wait for a response nor did you want one. The front door fell shut behind you, and when you pushed past Mark this time, he allowed you. 

Your eyes landed on his old and cheap black car he had bought from his parents last summer. He had parked it across the street, and without needing to be told to, you walked over to it. It was then—now that you were outside of the comfort of your home—that you noticed how bright the sun was shining today.

You squinted as you crossed the street and heavy steps echoed behind you. Mark’s car sputtered to life when he unlocked it, and you were about to grab the door, but Mark was a little quicker than you and held it open for you.

“What a gentleman,” you grinned and this time Mark couldn’t hide his smile and let it spill free, but he still rolled his eyes at you. Both of you chuckled a little bit, sharing a look for a moment. When you bent down to crawl inside the car, Mark made sure to put his hand over your head, stopping you from hitting it on the roof of his old car. 

Even though you were convinced that he only did it because he didn’t want you to dent his car, your heart still began racing. You wanted for it to stop, stop being so ridiculous, but you had lost control over your heart a long time ago.

Mark closed the door, and walked around his car. In those few seconds of silence (well, as silent as it could get with Mark’s heavy steps outside), you could feel your heart grow a little more frantic, could feel your cheeks warm up a little too much, could feel your hands start to quiver a little more.

Even though you were used to it by now, used to the effect Mark had on you, you did feel yourself panic a little, panic at the warmth and love blooming in your chest for your best friend, for someone who was never going to feel the same way.

When Mark opened the door and slid into his seat with a heavy sigh, you busied yourself by fiddling with the seatbelt, strapping it across your body.

“Where are we going? Where’s that venue?” you asked in an attempt to forget all about it, in an attempt to calm yourself down and think about something else. The words came out pitchy, pitchier than you liked, but once more, Mark didn’t notice.

“Oh,” he hummed before buckling up as well and putting the keys into the ignition. He chuckled a little to himself before glancing your way for a second. 

“Uh, that’s gonna be a surprise.”

You contorted your face at his words because if you were honest, you didn’t like the idea of a surprise. You liked to know what was happening, liked to be able to be in control of any situation. And right now, that control was slipping further and further out of reach.

“Why?” you asked and your voice was still pitchy, too pitchy. A frown etched into your features and you watched Mark press his lips into a thin line. 

“Why not?” he said and shrugged a little before pulling out of the curb. “Not like you would know where it is anyway. Your navigational skills still suck.”

You scoffed at Mark’s words and lightly hit him, not appreciating his words at all even if they were true.

“That’s a rude thing to-”

“It’s true, Y/N,” Mark laughed before giving you a look. “You know it is.”

You stared at him, and you wanted to retort, wanted to tell him that he was wrong and that your navigational skills were better than any GPS, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say that, couldn’t bring yourself to lie like that. 

“Whatever.”

Mark laughed.

Even though Mark was clearly laughing at you, you could only focus on how beautiful his laugh was, focus on the way his eyes creased into half-moons, focus on his shaking shoulders as the laugh rippled through his entire chest.

A smile pulled on the corners of your lips and your whole gaze softened as you watched him continue laughing. You didn’t care that it was at your expense, didn’t care that you were the butt of the joke. You were gladly the butt of the joke as long as it meant that you could hear Mark laugh forever.

And, of course, your heart quickened in your chest. It quickened so suddenly that you forgot about your conversation with Mark, forgot to press on and demand for answers. Instead, you started to fiddle with the AC because your cheeks were heating up, heating up too much.

Maybe it was because it was summer and you had always had a tendency to overheat or maybe it was because you were wearing a cardigan on seemingly the hottest day of the year or maybe it was because your heart was racing in your chest like it was going to pierce through your chest, but whatever it was, it was getting too hot for you in here.

And, again, maybe it was your thumping heart or maybe it was something else, but you were struggling with the AC, and as much as you tried to hide it, you couldn’t. Mark’s laugh died down and he glanced your way instead. You hated it, hated that he was looking at you because it only made you fiddle more with it, made your heart beat even quicker and your palms sweatier.

“Do you need-”

“I can do it,” you pressed through gritted teeth and leaned forward. It was stupid, stupid that you were struggling with the AC when you had never before, when you had turned it on and off hundreds of times before, but right now, it seemed impossible.

When you finally managed to get it together and get the AC going, you leaned back into your seat. Your hands gripped around your seatbelt like your life depended on it, like if you didn’t, you would fly out of Mark's car. 

The cold air hit you in the face, but it didn’t do anything to cool you down, at least you didn’t feel like it did anything. Your cheeks were still as hot, still burning and Mark was to blame, again.

Silence settled between you two for a little, and you were already counting down the seconds until Mark was going to make fun of you because he was never going to pass up on this chance. And you were right, of course.

“That took incredibly long.” 

Mark bit on his bottom lip to hide away the smile, but he ultimately failed, and you had a suspicion he hadn’t tried very hard.

You rolled your eyes at him, and twisted yourself away from him, not wanting to see that stupid grin plastered on his face. You knew if the roles were reversed, you would do the exact same thing, would tease him as well, but it didn’t mean that it was any less embarrassing and annoying when Mark did it to you.

“I mean, Y/N, seriously. I’m worried. If it takes you this long to figure out an AC, what are you gonna do when we graduate?”

“Like you’re gonna graduate. No way you’re not gonna flunk English,” you scoffed and Mark gasped next to you before shoving you a little, and now you giggled, proud of yourself that you had managed to retort this quickly.

“I’ve been studying,” Mark defended himself, but you were quick to scoff again and shake your head at him.

“Definitely not enough,” you said and Mark gasped once more before tucking his lip between his teeth and gnawing on it as he tried to think of something to say.

“I’m trying,” he mumbled like a small child and you put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it as you started laughing uncontrollably.

Your laugh filled up the whole air, filled up the car and you could see Mark try to act offended by your words, but he couldn't bite away the laugh for long.

You weren’t sure if he was laughing because he could see the humour of the whole situation or because your laugh was contagious, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the fact that he was laughing with you, that he was filling up the air with laughter with you.

Mark had always laughed easily. Laughing was his forte, a speciality of his, one of his many strengths. Something about his laugh, about the genuineness and authenticity of it, about the way he laughed, was mesmerising, addicting.

So, seeing and hearing him laugh right now had warmth spreading through your chest and your heart hammering.

You loved Mark’s laugh, almost more than you loved him.

“Okay, wait, what do you think of this one?”

You pressed play, and after a few seconds, you were met with a disapproving groan and a scoff.

“Nana is going to straight-up murder you if you put on One Direction on his birthday party,” Mark said as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. 

“‘What Makes You Beautiful’ transcends One Direction. Everybody loves it,” you argued, but Mark scoffed once more before hitting the gas pedal again as the traffic light turned green.

“Okay, go ahead, Y/N. Play One Direction on Nana’s birthday and let’s see if he’ll kill you or not,” Mark challenged and glanced at you before turning the corner. 

“I’m literally throwing him a surprise birthday party. He’s not gonna kill me,” you said and increased the volume of your phone, mouthing along because that song slapped like no other.

“We.”

You looked at Mark and lowered the volume a little to hear him better.

“We are throwing him a surprise birthday party,” he corrected and you rolled your eyes before stopping the song and typing in a new one.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” you mumbled and pressed play again before Mark could correct you once more. “How about this song? If you don’t like this, we shouldn’t do this at all anymore. Probably should stop being friends altogether then.”

‘I Want It That Way’ by the Backstreet Boys started blasting and immediately, you could see Mark frown and shake his head at your choice. 

“You're kidding, right?”

“It’s old, Y/N,” Mark argued and you furrowed your brows at him, scoffing.

“It’s not that old and why does it matter anyway?” you said and Mark kept shaking his head at you, but as he was about to continue, the chorus hit and you had to do what everybody had to do if the chorus of ‘I Want It That Way’ by the Backstreet Boys hit.

“Tell me why. Ain't nothin' but a heartache. Tell me why. Ain't nothin' but a mistake,” you sang in your best voice, and Mark could only stare at you, smiling at you the tiniest bit as you put on a whole show for him.

“Am I on fire? Your one desire. Yes I know, it's too- wait, when did we park?” you interrupted yourself as you noticed Mark just sitting there, staring at you. You stopped the song and looked out the window to realise that you were parked.

“A little while now. Also, it’s ‘Am I your fire?’ not ‘Am I on fire?’,” Mark said and your face contorted in confusion.

“Wait, I thought the song was old. Why do you know the lyrics then? And how did I not notice earlier?” you asked and looked around, but you didn’t recognise anything, Mark was right (for once), your navigational skills were as bad, as bad as his English skills one might say.

“My mother. She’s a Backstreet Boy-er or whatever you call their fans. She used to blast their music when I was young,” Mark explained with a slight shrug and red cheeks. “And we’ve been parked for a little while now. Guess you were too busy screeching to-”

You hit Mark again, harder this time, but it did nothing because he could only smirk at you and chuckle to himself.

“You’re mean,” you hissed before looking around again like you would recognise any of the buildings now, but, of course, you didn’t. “Where are we? And where’s the venue?”

You twisted around to find the venue Mark had told you about, but instead of finding a venue, your eyes landed on a church, a church you had seen before. A pit formed inside your gut at the sight of it, and you knew right away that something was off, but you weren’t sure what exactly was off.

When you snapped your head around, Mark’s smirk was gone and he started shifting away from you. Without needing him to say it, you knew Mark had lied to you, knew he hadn’t taken you out to inspect a venue for Jaemin’s birthday party. 

It took you rather long to realise where you were, but when you realised it,  when it registered in your mind where you were, your reaction was immediate. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

It was now that you spotted the bench you had stared at three weeks ago, had stared at before you had gotten so sick of your mother talking that you had walked into that church right behind you and attended your first support group meeting.

“Mark, you better say sike right fucking now,” you demanded and glared at him, but he just stared at his hands and pressed his lips into a thin line. You waited, waited for him to start laughing at you and tell you that this was all a bad joke, yell ‘sike’ into your face, but when he didn’t, it dawned on you that this was real.

Your back hit your seat with a little too much force, but you didn’t notice or care. Anger bubbled up inside you, and you huffed and puffed before you stared at the bench like you had done so three weeks ago. You needed something else to look at because glancing at Mark alone had the blood in your veins cooking.

Mark gave you a moment to process everything, but he couldn’t help himself but look over to you and eye you from head to toe. You were staring out of the window with your arms locked in front of your chest and your knee bobbing up and down like a yoyo. You were like a ticking time bomb, about to blow up into Mark's face.

“So, you didn’t find a venue then?” you spat out before finally turning your gaze to Mark and fixing him with a glare that had him swallowing heavily.

“No, I did find, uh, a venue,” Mark mumbled. “I just lied about, you know, taking you there.”

You let out a long breath through your nose and shook your head at Mark’s words. The anger evaporated in your veins into something else, into something worse, into something indescribable. 

“I can’t fucking believe you, Mark,” you grunted and Mark looked at his hands as he tried to find the words to explain himself, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? That’s- Do you-”

You pressed your lips together as you tried to figure out what exactly you wanted to say, but you were having a hard time with your heart beating out of your chest and your blood boiling in your veins.

“Why would you do something like that?” you asked through gritted teeth. “My mother asked you to do this, didn’t she? Take me here and convince me to go, right? I fucking knew that she wouldn’t give up this easily.”

You shook your head at the thought of it, of your mother going to Mark and asking him to take you here, take you to the support group she had signed you up for a couple of weeks ago without telling you. Your mother was very insistent, you knew that by experience, but you really didn’t think she would ever dare to drag Mark into all of this mess—not to mention that he would not only allow himself to be dragged into it and also take her side on top of that.

“Is it so hard to respect my decision not to go? I don’t need- I hate this.”

A heavy sigh slipped past your lips, and you finally tore your gaze away from Mark. You let it travel as the anger continued to cook inside you like an overflowing pot of pasta, hot and without care.

“Whose side are you on?” you asked and snapped your eyes back to Mark. He looked at you with his mouth slightly open, ready to cut in, but you didn’t want to hear it right now. “I thought we are friends- best friends. I thought you’re on my side with this. I thought I could trust you-

“And you can and we-”

“You know how much I fucking hate this-”

“I know-”

“No, obviously you don’t and obviously I can’t,” you spat out before fully turning your body to Mark. “Because if you did, if you did know how much I fucking hate this and if I could trust you, we wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t even have done this,” you pointed all around you, “in the first place. We wouldn’t be here at all.”

Your back hit your seat again and for a while, you were silent, but it was not even close to enough time for Mark to process your words. So, when you started again, he was still very overwhelmed, almost too overwhelmed to listen.

“I- I don’t want this and you know that. You know that very well, but that doesn’t matter to you, right? It doesn’t matter what I want or what I don’t want because as long as you- you get to do your shit and as long as you’re happy or whatever. It doesn’t matter whether I am happy or-”

“Stop.”

The rest of your sentence died on the tip of your tongue when Mark suddenly took hold of your shoulders and gave you a look that had your lips pressing together. 

“Y/N, just listen,” Mark said and eyed you like he was ready for you to swat his hands away and keep cursing at him until you run out of breath. After a while, certain that you weren’t going to do that, Mark sighed once more and licked his lips, preparing himself to speak.

“You’re upset and you’ve got every right to be,” Mark started, fingers squeezing your shoulders a little more as he searched for the right words. “I lied to you and- I’m sorry for that.”

Mark licked his lips again, and his gaze danced all over your face, never meeting your eyes though.

“And please- don’t take this the wrong way. The lying, I mean. And, of course, it does matter what you want. Your feelings matter. You matter.”

A heavy sigh fell from Mark’s lips and he was wrecking his brain right now. Mark was balancing a very thin line right now, and he had to find the right words because if he didn’t, you would shut down, turn your back to him and not talk to him anymore, not to mention listen to a single word of his.

“I realise that you don’t want to be here, and I know how much you hated going the first time,” Mark started and you contorted your face when he reminded you of the first and only time you had gone to that shitty support group.

“I- I get it. I get why you’re so upset.”

Mark licked his lips, thinking hard as to how to word this.

“I get how you must  feel like without a-”

“Do you, though?” you asked with squinted eyes and a huff. You swept Mark’s hands off of your shoulder and the words spilled out of you without a second thought.

“Do you really get what it’s like to have your mother constantly try to ‘fix you’ and sign you up for shit you don’t want to go to all your life because you don’t have a soulmate? Do you really get what it’s like to constantly do whatever your parents, your friends, fucking everybody wants from you to please them? Even though you’re unhappy doing it? Do you really get what it’s like to have to tell others- strangers that you don’t have a soulmate and be met with this stupid look? With this weird and awful smile? Do you really get what it’s like to see everybody around you find their soulmates?

“Do you really get what it’s like to not have a soulmate and to know that you’re destined to be alone forever?”

Mark couldn’t meet your gaze and his fingers knotted together into a mess. You could feel your anger ease away and turn into something bitter, into pain and agony, into something much more tortured.

Your eyes landed on Mark’s left wrist, and tears blurred your vision when you stared at that little bit of black covering it, at Mark’s soulmate tattoo. Almost automatically your gaze shifted to your own wrist, and you could feel your heart clench in your chest upon seeing it.

Because it was supposed to be covered in a little bit of black too, have one too, a soulmate tattoo. 

But it didn’t, it was empty, naked and that was your bitter reality, your bitter truth. 

By now you could draw Mark’s soulmate tattoo with your eyes closed, could draw it in your sleep if you had to. And you had, had drawn it on yourself without a second thought before, had drawn it on yourself more times than you liked to admit, more times than you should have.

The black ink wrapped around almost Mark’s entire wrist and highlighted his sunkissed skin in a way you never thought black could. Never had black looked better, prettier. Nothing could compare to the black, not even the golden flush it was going to take up once Mark found the one for him, his other half, his soulmate.

There were no edges or harsh lines, nothing but corners and soft strokes. The tattoo lay in an almost effortless fashion on his skin. It was almost like it was made for him and him only, and it was. Destiny had picked it out for him, but hadn’t picked out one for you, not to mention the one matching Mark’s. It was the only soulmate tattoo you wouldn’t mind having, the only one you desired to have, the only one you truly dreaded to see flush golden one day.

“Do you really get what it’s like to know that no one will ever love you back in the way you want them to?”

The question came out in a broken whisper, quiet. It was almost like you didn’t want Mark to hear it, and a part of you didn’t, didn’t want him to hear it and see you staring at his soulmate tattoo, but Mark, once again, didn’t notice. He was never one to notice anything. He had never noticed your staring before, never noticed your beating heart for him, never noticed your feelings.

You shook your head and blinked away the tears. You swallowed the confession that had been sitting on the tip of your tongue ever since you two had been only eight, ever since you had first realised what your thumping heart and your quivering knees meant, ever since you had first laid eyes on Mark.

There was this gnawing silence, this moment where Mark stared at his hands while you grappled for air, grappled for your heart back, back from Mark’s suffocating clutch.

“Look, Y/N,” Mark started and his voice matched yours, weak and quiet. “I- You’re right. I do not get it and quite frankly, I never will. And I’m sorry that I said I did.”

Slowly Mark’s gaze travelled into your direction, but he still didn’t dare to raise his head and lock eyes with you.

“But,” you watched Mark swallow and pause as he tried to figure out the best way to word all of this, not wanting to mess this up once more, “your mother, she- she just wants you to be happy.”

“And I know that,” you said,and all of the bite and anger was now gone from your voice. With delicate fingers, you tucked a strand behind your ear, and with your heels you tried to dig yourself a hole into the floor, hoping it would swallow you. “But it’s the fact that she assumes that I am unhappy because I don’t have a soulmate that makes me unhappy.”

“Well, I mean,” Mark sighed and you watched the sweat collect on the nape of his neck, the harsh afternoon sun burning down on him, and you even with the AC blasting. “Can you blame her though? You’ve been spending all your days in your bedroom, lying in bed and doing essentially nothing-”

“I hang out with you and the others,” you corrected and for the first time in a while, Mark met your gaze and when he did, he had this look on his face that had you almost rolling your eyes.

“Do you?” Mark questioned and you opened your mouth to retort, but he was quick to continue. “First of all, you only ever hang out with the others at school. I’m the only one you spend your time outside of school. Second of all, we hang out a lot less than we used to and third of all, we rarely do anything. Remember how we used to, like, go out when we met up? Now we spend all day in your room and do nothing-”

“You act like you don’t enjoy it,” you scoffed and annoyance swung in your voice, but it didn’t even come close to matching the annoyance you had felt minutes before. “And it’s not my fault that my mother doesn’t know that I hang out with the others too.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” Mark said and held up his hand between you, almost like he was scared you were going to blow up again. “I know it’s not your fault and you know I enjoy doing nothing with you, but your mother- she doesn’t see it that way. All she sees is you holing yourself up in your room and whenever I—seemingly the only person you ever hang out with—come around, you hole yourself up with me.”

You stared at Mark and you didn’t want to admit it, but you had lost this battle. You had nothing more to say and he knew it, but even so, you tried to figure out something to say, racked your brain like maybe if you dug deep enough, you could find a clever retort.

“I mean when was the last time you went outside?”

Just as you were about to reply, Mark shoved his finger into your face.

“And going to school doesn’t count.”

You closed your mouth and let out a grumble, and before you could say something, he spoke up again,

“Neither does this.”

You sighed and tore your gaze away, and with that Mark knew you were admitting defeat to him. But instead of letting a satisfied and smug grin spread across his lips, he placed his hand on yours and tugged on it.

Mark was completely unaware of the fact that this simple gesture had your heart stopping in your chest in the most painful way, and you wanted to tell him to stop, wanted to rip your hand away, but you were too weak to. All you could do was hope and pray that your reddening cheeks were going to be hidden by the afternoon heat.

“She is worried about you, Y/N,” Mark said and his fingers curled around yours, tightening as he continued, and you could barely hear him over your thumping heart.

“It’s why I agreed to do this. She’s incredibly worried about you and sure, she has always been, but lately—and with that I mean the past few years—things have been different. You have to admit that your relationship with your parents, especially with your mother, isn’t what it used to be. And, yes, I know you’ve got very valid reasons for that, but you should have been there when she pulled me aside and asked me to take you here. It’s, like- I can’t even describe it, Y/N.”

You knew Mark wasn’t doing it on purpose, wasn’t deliberately guilt-tripping you or anything, but the pit in your stomach doubled in size. Guil started to gnaw and tug on your heart in the most sickening ways, and you grimaced as you let the words run through your mind. Maybe you had been a little hard on your parents, especially your mother, but it wasn't like you didn't have your reasons.

When Mark squeezed your hand tighter, you tore your gaze away and looked out the window, staring at the bench like you had done so three weeks ago before speaking up again.

“I don’t wanna-”

“Why not?”

You sighed and leaned back, pulling your hand from Mark. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and kept your gaze fixed on the bench.

“Because I already have. I have tried going once already and- I hated it. It’s awful, the worst,” you explained and shook your head. “It’s a support group, but it feels more like a circle jerk than anything else.”

You stayed silent for a little before continuing again, 

“The shit they say is so incredibly sappy and depressing and you know exactly that this is why I-”

“It’s why you don’t watch films or TV,” Mark completed your sentence, and you hummed, nodding, but he could only roll his eyes at you. “Look, yeah, maybe it’s a circle jerk, but, like, just go.”

Mark grimaced at his own words and he knew that they were not convincing at all, but it was difficult to come up with another reason. 

“Your mother, she- do it for her,” Mark elaborated and took hold of your hand again, squeezing it. “She’s so worried about you and I know you don’t wanna do it, but do you seriously think that she’s going to let this go if you don’t go? If you don’t go after I took you here?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and groaning. Because Mark was right, unfortunately. Your mother wasn’t going to let this go because she rarely ever let something slide, let something slide concerning you.

“I’m not saying you definitely have to go or anything, but if you don’t, your mother is only gonna get more worried and who knows what she’ll do next. Maybe she’ll take you to therapy the next time,” Mark said and you groaned.

You let the words sink in and pursed your lips as you thought about them, as you let them run through your mind over and over again. They played over and over again, and you wished they wouldn’t because the longer you listened to them, the longer you thought about them, you started to seriously think about them, which made dismissing them harder.

“Just, I don’t know, go at least ten times-”

“Ten times?” you blurted out and pulled your hand away, but Mark was quick to tighten his grasp.

“Yes, ten times-”

“Five.”

“Seven.”

You glared at Mark and you had to bite your tongue to stop the curses from spilling. To your surprise and dismay, he didn’t give up. Usually, Mark always gave in, always let you have your way, but today was different, today he was different, today he was more determined than you had ever seen him before.

“Seven times and then you can call it quits, can tell your mother that you tried this again, but it doesn’t suit you or help you or whatever bullshit excuse you can think of.” 

Maybe it was because you wanted to escape the harsh afternoon sun or maybe it was because you always felt this urge to please everyone even if it made you unhappy or maybe it was because Mark was asking you to go and sending your heart in a frenzy by holding and squeezing your hand like that, but you let out a sigh.

“You are gonna drive and pick me up every single time.”

Mark smiled at you.

You tried your best to be quiet when you stepped inside, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself, but you couldn’t stop the heavy sigh from escaping you. Your arms tightened around your chest, and you puckered your forehead when you realised that nothing had changed over the past three weeks.

The room was still too big for this. It was mostly empty except for the people seated in a circle in the middle of it and the two wooden tables pushed into the right corner of it. Dixie cups and day-old snacks were arranged on them, untouched, and you didn't want to think about how stale they had to be by now. And for some reason, the room still felt gloomy and dark even with the big windows.

“Yeah, that’s a good-”

The heavy door clicked shut behind you, alerting everybody of your presence. The sound echoed on the walls and bounced around like a siren. Everybody turned their head to you, and you could feel your cheeks flush red.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and lowered your gaze, your legs coming to a still. 

“Y/N, what a nice surprise,” Eunjung, the support group leader, called out with a warm smile. 

“I missed my bus,” you offered up as an excuse even and shrugged. Your arms tightened around your chest like you were scared that if you didn’t, your heart was going to leap out and tell everybody that you were lying.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re here.”

We.

“We were actually going to take a break in five. How about we take it now? Fifteen minutes,” Eunjung said, and before you could comprehend what was happening, everybody was getting up and either walking out or switching places to talk to each other.

You stood frozen as pairs of people shuffled past you and you were left staring ahead of you as Eunjung approached you with her warm and big smile. And you almost told her not to, not to smile at you like that because it was awful, too warm and too big.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure if she did it on purpose or not, but Eunjung spoke in this terrible tone. Every word of hers was just laced with it. You couldn’t quite describe it, but it left a bitter taste on your tongue. It was almost like she was patronising you.

Her hands landed on your wrists, and before you could protest and rip your hands away, she had uncrossed your arms. You cringed a little when you heard her cheap metal bracelets rattle as she took your hands into hers.

“I just wanted to tell you that we are genuinely happy that you’re here.”

We.

“We missed you.”

We.

“It’s really nice to see you again. We thought we weren’t gonna anymore.”

We.

God, you hated that ‘we’ talk. It had your eyes rolling and the corners of your lips turning inwards. It was infuriating, only for show anyway.

Why did people talk like that, talk like they knew you, talk like you were friends or even family?

“Please, see this here as a safe space, a safe haven. You can share any of your concerns and worries here without any judgement whatsoever. There’s really-”

“Hey, Eunjung, I think someone needs you over there.”

Your eyes landed on Yukhei when he spoke up, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Eunjung and giving her a smile as he pointed into the hallway.

“I heard someone call for you.”

“Oh,” Eunjung said before turning her gaze to you and squeezing your hands. “I’m gonna go and check this out, but, again, Y/N, I want you to know that we are happy that you’re here again and that you’re very much welcomed here.”

We.

Again.

You knew you should smile back, knew it was the right and polite thing to do, but you didn’t care about that, didn’t care about being polite anymore. You didn’t want to smile at Eunjung, so you didn’t even as she flashed you one of her warm and big ones.

She left a second later, bracelets rattling as she walked past you, and you could feel your shoulders sink and your whole body relax the moment she was gone. But a second later, he spoke up again and had the hair at the back of your neck raising again.

“You missed your bus?” 

You turned around at his question and crossed your arms in front of your chest again. Yukhei stood there with his hands shoved in his hoodie, and you frowned, not understanding how he could walk around in a hoodie on this day when the sun was shining so bright.

“Yeah,” you breathed out even though you had a hunch that Yukhei knew you were lying.

“I saw you sitting in the car.”

You rolled your eyes at him and slightly turned away from him because, of course, he had seen you. A part of you had known that his question was a trap, but you had thought that it might be wrong.

“Okay, great. What do you want from me now? Do you want me to get you a cookie for catching me in a lie?” you said and Yukhei grinned in a way that had your blood boiling. His grin wasn’t filled with any smugness or arrogance, no, it was warm and big and friendly, but just something about it, about him, rubbed you the wrong way, had your gut twisting into a knot.

“No, I don’t want anything,” Yukhei said and shook his head.

“Why did you ask then?” you grumbled with a slight scoff and let your gaze travel to the side.

“I just wanted to see if you were going to lie to me or not,” he explained with a shrug and you frowned at his words. “You know, just how you lied to me about your number.”

You scoffed and nodded to yourself. Of course, that was what this was about. If you were completely honest, you had forgotten that you had given him a fake number, had erased that from your memory, repressed it.

“Oh, okay, I get it now,” you said and tightened your arms around your chest, hugging yourself a little more. “This is about me giving you a fake number.”

��Yes, of course, this is about you giving me a fake number,” Yukhei almost laughed, clearly amused with this whole situation and slid his hands out of his hoodie to point at himself.

“You’re supposed to communicate with me. Have you forgotten that I’m your support group partner?”

“Sponsor,” you corrected and raised your finger. “And like I’ve told you three weeks ago, I don’t need that. I’m fine by myself.”

“She says and doesn’t come to any meetings for three weeks,” Yukhei smiled and you furrowed your brows at him, annoyance building up inside you.

“Me not coming to any meetings has nothing to do with me needing a sponsor, but has everything to do with me not wanting to come. Talking to you or whatever wouldn’t change anything about that,” you said with a frown and you expected him to be annoyed with you, expected him to be just a little bit irritated by your behaviour and words, but, Yukhei let out a chuckle at your words.

“What’s so funny?” you asked and your frown deepened. Your annoyance turned into irritation as Yukhei gave you one of his half smiles, one of his infuriating half smiles.

“Because it’s obvious that you don’t get it,” he explained and you blinked at him. “It’s obvious that you do, in fact, need a support group par-”

“Sponsor.”

“I’m never calling myself your ‘sponsor’, Y/N,” Yukhei retorted with his awful half smile and you wanted to tell him to stop smiling at you. “I’m not your ‘sponsor’, but your-”

“You’ve been attending this support group longer than I have, are the person I should turn to whenever I have any problems concerning all of this and are the person that’s supposed to hold me accountable, right?” you asked with a head tilt.

“Yes, but-”

“So, you’re my sponsor,” you concluded and Yukhei stared at you before shaking his head at you.

“Y/N, this isn’t an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting-”

“Why does this feel like an AA meeting then?” you asked and Yukhei laughed at your words, shaking his head again before meeting your gaze.

“That sounds more like a you kind of problem,” he said with a slight squint of his eyes and a slight upward quirk of his lips. A small scoff slipped past your lips and your hands tightened into fists. 

You knew that, knew that this was more of a you kind of problem and, sure, you might have been well aware of that problem and acknowledged it already, but that didn’t mean that you were fine with Yukhei telling you that. 

A part of you wanted to ask Yukhei if he thrived off of annoying you, if he enjoyed it, but you realised that he did when you saw the glint in his eyes and smile. 

This was amusing to him, very much so even. 

With that fact in mind, and because you didn’t want to entertain this conversation or him any longer,—definitely not because you couldn’t think of anything smart to say anymore—you turned on your heel.

For a second, you were hesitant before you walked up to one of the chairs, deciding to sit down would be the best thing to do now. You wanted to snap your head around when you heard Yukhei chuckle a little more, but you just hurried your steps. To your dismay, Yukhei managed to keep up, easily at that.

You were about to sit down when-

“Jisoo sits there.”

Your eyes locked with his and your jaw locked up when you saw him grinning at you. For a moment, you contemplated sitting down anyway and not letting Yukhei tell you anything, but then you realised that your bad moon didn’t justify taking someone else’s, well, Jisoo’s  seat away.

“Fine,” you pressed through gritted teeth and walked up to the next available chair, but once again, Yukhei stopped you.

“Sicheng.”

You groaned and glared at Yukhei, but he kept grinning at you. You could feel other people glancing your direction and if you weren’t so angry, you would be embarrassed, but right now, you could only focus on Yukhei and his stupid face.

“Where can I sit then? Is there a chair for me or not?” you asked with an eye roll and Yukhei’s grin widened at your words before he pointed at a chair across the room. Without another word, you stomped your way to that chair and let yourself fall into it, arms and legs crossed.

Yukhei strode towards you, and you didn’t miss the fact that he never took his eyes off of you, but you acted like you did, like you couldn’t feel his gaze digging into your face. You knew the second you looked at him, you would be met with his stupid grin and you were certain if you saw it one more time, you were going to snap.

When he sat down next to you, you could feel your whole body stiffen. Your nails dug into your palms as you tried to keep your face neutral and the scowl off of it. You didn’t want Yukhei to see how angry he got you, what an effect he had on you, but deep down, you knew you were failing, miserably.

“Isn’t somebody sitting there already?” you spat out, but you didn’t spare him a glance, eyes fixed in front of you.

“Don’t you worry about it,” Yukhei said and you could practically hear his stupid grin.

Your teeth sank into your tongue as you silenced the words that wanted to slip. You wanted to let them out, but you knew better than that, knew that if you said something, this would go on forever and end up with you up the wall.

And for a few seconds, there was silence, but Yukhei, again, never looked away, never took his eyes off of you, and you wished he would, wished he would not only because it was getting weird, but because his staring was getting to you in ways you would never admit out loud.

“You know, people tend to start liking me more after a while.”

You scoffed, but it didn’t discourage Yukhei at all. Of course, it didn’t. Someone like Yukhei could never be discouraged by anything, not even by repeated rejection and failure. You had to admit it was admirable, impressive even, but you wouldn’t tell him that even if there was a gun pointed to your head.

“People say that I’m quite charming.”

“I’m sure people also tell you you’re a very special boy and that there is no one like you out there, too,” you quipped in an attempt to get him to shut up, but to your dismay, Yukhei just laughed at your words.

You watched him laugh before nodding to himself and leaning back to take you all in, get a better view of you. And you rolled your eyes at Yukhei because, god, he was annoying, especially with that grin cemented on his face, that grin that was just as infuriating as his frequent half smiles.

“I like you, Y/N.”

You were rarely ever stunned or speechless not to mention both, but right now, you were just that. The confession was sudden, out of nowhere and while there was a certain sincerity swinging with it, you couldn’t take it seriously.

How could you with Yukhei grinning at you like that?

You were caught off guard. With your mouth agape, you blinked at Yukhei like he had grown a second head. Yukhei’s cheeks didn’t flush red at his own confessions and instead, he looked at you with his head tilted to the side and his lips pulled up into another half smile.

“Okay, break’s over.”

And for the first time, Yukhei took his eyes off of you to look at Eunjung. You expected for Yukhei to get up and go back to his seat as people filtered in and found their respective seats, but he didn’t move a centimetre.

When the last person had sat down, it dawned on you. You wanted to scoff and curse at him, but all you could do was stare at Yukhei.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Yukhei turned his head to you and now flashed you the brightest and most infuriating smirk.

“Is that your-”

“Yes.”

You scoffed and didn't even register people glancing your way. Your eyes stayed locked with Yukhei’s as you stared him down like he would drop dead if you just looked at him long enough. But your glare seemed to do nothing because he kept looking at you like you weren’t glaring at him, like you weren’t wishing for his death with your eyes.

“Hey, Y/N and Yukhei, please stop flirting. Break’s over,” Eunjung said and you could feel the blood rush into your cheeks in an instant.

You had never been called out by anyone before, never by your teachers and definitely never for ‘flirting’, but here you were, sitting in this stupid circle with your face flushing hot after being called out on just that, flirting.

And you knew who was to blame, knew exactly who had done this to you. Because you hadn’t changed, hadn’t picked up ‘flirting’ in the past fifteen minutes. No, it wasn’t you who had ‘flirted’, it had been someone else.

Yukhei.

You tore your gaze away, sticking it to the floor as heat crawled up your neck and your heart thumped louder and louder in your chest. And, of course, Yukhei could only grin..

“Sorry, Eunjung.”

You wanted to say something too, wanted to say that you weren’t flirting with Yukhei and definitely glaring at him instead, but the words wouldn’t slip off your tongue, and you knew that even if they had, they would come out in between coughs and in the form of a whisper.

Your arms tightened in front of your chest, and you watched Eunjung open her mouth and say something, but your mind was too clouded with anger and frustration for you to properly listen to her. Your tumbling heart didn’t make it any easier for you to listen. You couldn't concentrate, not to mention on Eunjung or her words. It was like you were stuck in a silent film, watching people speak to one another, but you couldn't hear a single thing.

But, of course, you still picked up his words, still picked up his words as he leaned into you and whispered them into your ear.

“Is that a ketchup stain on your shirt?”

Wong Yukhei could go eat it.

→  links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

[ridasverkisto]

So as promised, a follow up to this monstrosity of a post, now talking about my top ten favorite characters.

So as I’ve said before, I tend to not have one favorite character but rather a herd of them that I love for a variety of reasons. So the following list and gushing is in no particular order, as I can’t really rank them bc I like them all for different reasons.

1. Noelle

To this day, Noelle remains the ONLY character I have ever yelled at a TV screen for because I was so hyped for her. During the Sea Temple Arc I was literally yelling at the TV for her to kick ass and take names, I love her so much. 🥺

Does she have issues? Yes! But that’s okay—she’s had an amazing character arc so far, and watching her go from insecure and hiding behind arrogance to actually having confidence in herself and her abilities has been so amazing. More than anything she feels real to me, and is one of the few characters where I have had the visceral urge to squish her cheeks and tell her she’s doing great honey, keep kicking ass. We stan Noelle in my house 😤

2. Luck

I love this kid, for both his antics and the fact that I can relate to how he’s basically repressed his negative emotions for so long that he struggles to express anything but cheerfulness, even when murderously angry. He goes from equating his worth to being able to fight and win (see his fight with Lotus) to valuing his found family with the Bulls so damn much. His breakdown during the Reincarnation Arc wrenches at my heart every time!! I love this chaotic destruction child.

3. Langris

He’s a gremlin trashbaby. He’s an awful entitled asshole who always got whatever he wanted when he wanted it, and was that one Gifted Kid who always had everything come easy. And...he gets knocked off that pedestal and starts to grow as a person, however reluctantly. He’s one of those characters where if I were to ever meet him in person I’d either hate him immediately or want to troll him relentlessly, but I still love him as a character because he’s interesting.

In a lot of ways, I relate to Langris. Younger sibling with so much pressure to be the best, from both yourself and your parents, and your older sibling—who’s supposed to be better than you, someone for you to look up to—just...isn’t to your parents’s standards. And that makes the pressure worse, until you’ve been swallowed whole by the pressure and expectations and you don’t know who you are without that.

It’s three parts the asshole grew on me like a fungus and one part projection, but I love him anyway.

4. William

I have a soft spot for William that’s born from a) the fact I’m a huge sucker for the mysterious masked guy who’s Soft for his people, and b) he’s a coy troll and I deeply appreciate it.

I acknowledge—he has his flaws. He’s a coward and indecisive, but he’s learning to grow past that. That’s a huge part of what makes his character interesting and compelling to me, because he’s always been fiercely loyal—his problem was being torn between two conflicting loyalties and being unable and/or unwilling to decide between them.

5. Leopold

Fuzzy determined lion son, who is determined to surpass his brother? And wholesomely competitive? We stan!! I want to hug this kid 🥺

6. Dorothy

She’s fun, bright, and determined. There’s also a lot of implied depth when you look at her comments to Reve in the Reincarnation Arc—aside from Reve, she literally says “we finally have someone to share our dreams with!” And that breaks my heart a little because that’s such a lonely thing to say.

Overall she’s just great and I love her, and I really want to see more of her and her magic.

7. Asta

He’s a cinnamon roll, what more can I say? I love him, even if I didn’t rly like him at first. He’s a loud cinnamon roll and I will protect this boy with my life 💕

8. Finral

Anxious self-sabotaging boy!!! He reminds me a lot of a lot of people I know, and of facets of my own personality. And he works so hard to grow, his role and growth is amazing and I love him. I just wish his womanizing weren’t portrayed the way it is—and that the fandom could also note that he’s also not a damn sexual harasser. He tries really hard to get a date while being respectful—and it really doesn’t feel in character for him to sexually harass people, so I don’t know where people got this image of him being one. He’s a flirt, but for the most part it’s harmless and he respects boundaries. 👀

9. Patry

Okay so this is a bit of a fine distinction to make: I love and appreciate him as a character, I think he’s an excellent villain, and I appreciate that so far he hasn’t been exonerated from his crimes and mistakes, because he shouldn’t be. He needs to atone, and that takes time—and he may never earn forgiveness. That’s fine and in fact that’s the point!!!

He’s an excellent villain: he’s charismatic, intense, and he feels real. He’s understandable, even when he’s going to such zealous extremes. And as a character, I love him.

And here’s where the line is, because he’s the only one on this list that I have this sort of opposing opinion about. I adore him as a villain, as a character, and how he’s dealt with. It’s on point, amazing. As a person? He’s fucking despicable and if I ever met him in person I’d want to break his damn jaw. And it’s not the same as how I feel about Langris—Patry is a despicable person, and even if he grows and works to atone, he still did those things. He still decided to go through with those actions, and he shouldn’t be forgiven for it. He’s intense and complicated and real, and that’s what makes him interesting.

He’s on this list because I feel so strongly about him—he’s one of my favorite and my most hated characters in the show.

10. Marx

I’m not going to lie, I love this man purely based on that fact that I first saw him yelling at Julius and went “ah, the overworked secretary trope” and then he met Asta and I went “OH. Kind soft man who is also overworked secretary and cares deeply? Sign me the hell up!!!” What more do I need to say? He’s great 😊

[notasiren21]

I was having a debate with a Kataang shipper, and eventually we came to differing viewpoints on emotional im/maturity that the two years could do between Kataang and Zutara.

And then, how their lives impacted them in terms of growth and maturing too.

And then I came to the realization of this (and sorry, this is long):

There’s this paved pathway Aang had that Zuko never did, just some pointless goal that was meant to forever keep him exiled and with only an uncle to watch him as he lived in anger and regret

Idk, to me, Aang had this destiny that he had to focus on and get to, a part of him matured for it, but he desperately clung to his freedom, which in turn, stifled his emotional maturity. In a way, it’s like Sokka, but even Sokka had what Aang never seemed to acquire in a sense.

Zuko was robbed of that by ozai, Zuko believed in being good and was naturally a good person by heart (as expressed in scenes with his mother, comparisons with Azula, etc) and he tried to save the lives of several by speaking out against the sacrifice of new troops just to win something.

His mother had left them (essentially him as Azula came to distance herself and become more like her father), he wore the weight of realization that Azula was considered superior against him, he bore the crippling thought that he was going to have to spend his life trying to earn his father’s approval, he lived the weight of his father snatching the role of Fire lord from his uncle, the knowledge that it was wrong as he heard Azula talk ill of iroh and ozai bash him to earn the title, and then how he was expendable to his father.

Aang lived among people who he loved and in turn, loved or adored him back, and tragically, he lost his friends to his role as the avatar, but he always had Bumi and the some of the monks (especially one) and Appa.

Zuko had a scar that engraved the idea that he was nothing but a failure, damaged him into thinking his ideals and morals were wrong when they were what was needed, that he shouldn’t have been born and was lucky enough to even be alive in a sense.

Zuko lost his briefly earned pathway to be the next Fire lord. He was sent on a destination to find the avatar who wasn’t considered a last saving grace or sliver of hope, to never be found again.

To a degree? He knew it was in vain to search for him, but he had nothing else to do but try.

Because not finding him secured his role as a failure, it let him lose to Azula, it didn’t really avenge his uncle, it didn’t secure his right to live if he was basically exiled.

And to another degree, he knew his father abandoned him. But that meant he would have to settle in the knowledge that both his parents left him orphaned in a sense.

He operated under the care, guidance and love of his uncle. The only support in his life. The only one who truly cared for him enough to stay by his side.

He was surrounded by soldiers on ship who didn’t respect him. He was mocked everywhere he went as much as he was feared (something he didn’t want to begin with before the Agni Kai), and he had no home.

I feel like that, especially occurring at the age of 13 I believe, more than forced a few aspects of him to grow up and mature. Enough to acknowledge when he was in the wrong without someone telling him, enough to know when to fix his mistakes or make up for them, enough to realize who was really there for them and who he could be vulnerable with.

To some level, I think he and Katara were on the same wavelength because she witnessed her mother die to save her, she had a huge responsibility in her tribe, she was of an important figure of birth and considered royal, she was practically playing mother to several, and the last water bender to live in the tribe but wasn’t allowed to really brush up on it.

Being with Aang and Sokka, then eventually toph, I think it also aged her to the point where the gap between her and Zuko in ages didn’t matter, it was like it taxed them both enough that they both had what the other was missing.

My mother and I had this debate that I think can apply to this:

“What’s worse, to wake up after being cryogenically frozen after 200 years and see the world new/different but you still be the same as before?

Or wake up after like x amount of years from a coma, and have your childhood robbed from you because you’ve aged and everyone else around you has and moved on?”

We eventually settled on, well they both suck, but seeing the reality of what your life once was is especially crippling. And we settled on the coma one

To me, Aang was just cryogenically frozen.

The world he knew died and a new one began in a sense. Everyone he knew and cared for was dead. His temple was gone and his people.

But he didn’t really have to see reminders of it because it was just history and the past. It was essential, beyond the storyline, for him to be frozen for so long because he didn’t have his old life to look back on and hinder him, all he could do was press forwards because he can’t go back and regret if nothing is there. Seeing the temple? It’s like a relic now, not what he once knew. It’s not as he left it. It’s something else now standing in its place. It’s just now, what is.

Beyond the whole weird avatar mojo stuff, he’s living with no reminders. It’s kinda more, benefiting in a sense? He can move on, he doesn’t have guilt to face him everyday.

Zuko, he was the coma scenario.

He lived his life thinking good of the world and people, and then it’s like what life was really like was revealed to him. And then he just got hit by a truck out of nowhere (consider the metaphorical coma inducing truck an Agni Kai with his father) and everything just kinda, paused for a long while.

Mother is gone, father disowned him, sister couldn’t care less if he was dead like dear daddy, and there’s kinda no point now?

He’s living in this rage induced haze that he’s sorta, disconnected from who he once was. He’s broken and suspended in time of heart ache and self loathing.

Iroh is standing by his bedside and talking to his unconscious state, and the words are going in, but there’s no point because he can’t take them in and process them.

He’s shut down.

And then, it’s like meeting Katara in the cave, it sorta wakes him up for a second, grants a miracle and shows him there’s something outside of the pitch black he’s been seeing for so long.

And then the past comes back in the form of Azula, and false promises and the offering of restoration to what once was now takes over and he falls back unconscious and no one can get through to him again.

Eventually, when the realization hits that he can’t go back, he wakes up

But Zuko now lives with seeing his past everywhere around him. He’s got the knowledge that he’s aged and he needs to accept it and adapt.

He lives with the constant reminders because they’re still fresh, they didn’t go away, and they’re crippling as ever.

That’s why I believe that in a way, Zuko aged and matured enough to be capable of Katara’s affections and love more than Aang. That he could be her equal. Because he’s living with reminders, while Aang is living in an air of ignorance and bliss to a sense because it’s just history, everything has aged or been rebuilt that it’s not the same world he once knew. He’s got a new lease on life

And Zuko has some physical therapy to do. He’s got muscles he needs to strengthen just to walk again in the form of finding his true good nature and being the future Fire lord his people needs. Being the son that wants to take down his father and sister.

Zuko is still young, he still has room to grow and learn more, but Katara has kinda already established herself in a sense and aged more than she should have playing mother and voice of reason at times, even if she has more to learn too.

And I think they’re on almost equal wavelengths to better understand each other and be a supportive life partner together.

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

Fallout in The Cave

For @febuwhump 

Day 14:  “i didn’t mean it” Fandom: Red Robin/Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson Also on AO3

Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me.

Timothy Drake-Wayne remembered that old rhyme from when he was a child and it didn't take long for him to realize that was nothing but a lie. Names hurt and left as deep scars, they caused as much pain maybe even more as physical wounds did.

Every person had a breaking point and Tim had reached that point several times but this might just be the one that broke him.

Damian Wayne had made it clear from the moment he laid eyes on Tim that he was his enemy, one that he wouldn't stop until he eliminated from his life and removed him from this family.

Tim had been warm and welcoming to him, offering his hand only to have it slapped away just as he was spat on, verbally and emotionally abused by the boy he welcomed as a brother.

The boy who he and only he dared to set a boundary for Damian, with a simple we don't kill rule. Something that Tim noticed he was the only one who dared to do so only for Damian to step right over it.  

He could still feel the spikes of the glove as he was pushed off the dinosaur.

The snapping of his line.

Both times he felt fear grip him as he fell. There would be no one to catch him as he fell.

It hurt the wounds dug deep into his heart and left scars there to hear Dick, Bruce, Alfred and even Barbara and Stephanie had turned a blind eye to Damian's actions and treatment towards him. Tim couldn't understand why Damian still seemed to hate him so much and why no one would dare take the boy aside and explain to him that verbal, emotional and physical abuse was wrong and that they were family whether they were related by blood or not.

One thing that bothered Tim if Damian could go out as Robin shouldn't that mean he had a grasp of right and wrong so why did that fade when Tim was around him?

Tim knew that this place was no longer home and it was why he had made the hard choice but the right decision for himself to say goodbye.

"Timmy?"

Tim froze at the voice, the one which once would have filled him with comfort now filled him with a coldness that wrapped its icy grip around his heart.

Dick Grayson wondered how they had gotten to this point? He saw the barely there flinch but still there flinch, something that Tim would have never done before around him. He knows that things had changed between them since Damian came into their lives and he couldn't understand it sure Damian and Tim had their rough patches but it was no worse than Tim and Jason and look at them now they are friends.

'Why can't Tim just give Damian a chance? Can't he see that he has changed?' A sigh escaped Dick as he ran his hand through his hair as he smiled, "Hey, Tim me and Damian are doing a movie night you should join us."

The last thing Tim wanted to do was to sit through a movie with Damian's barbs and Dick reprimanding him when he didn't just sit there and take them. "Thanks but unless you somehow magically got Damian to agree not to insult me for the night I think I will pass."

A frustrated sigh escaped Dick's mouth he couldn't understand why Tim wasn't being so unreasonable, "Tim, if you would just spend time with Damian you would see he has changed."

Tim shot Dick a disbelieving look, "That must have been some change since just this morning he was calling me a plague on the Wayne name and that I wasn't even worthy to even walk Titus." Tim spat out, bitterness filling him as he recalled how Dick just smiled fondly at Damian and stayed quiet as his favourite little brother insulted the replacement.

"You need to grow up Tim and start acting like the adult you are supposed to be. No wonder your parents never wanted to stay around you." The moments those words left Dick's mouth he knew he had crossed a line, "I didn't mean it."

Tim had thought Dick couldn't hurt him any more than he already had but it looks like he was wrong, "Yes you did. Somewhere deep in you, you meant that." Tears weld up in Tim's eyes coating them over in a sheen as he realized that their relationship was damaged and it would stay that way until Dick acknowledged why he had problems with Damian.

"I have loved you since the moment I met you at the circus. The fact that you gave me my first hug is something I treasured. I looked up to you before I learned you were Robin. You became my hero and when you trusted me to become Robin after Jason, I was so happy even though I had my doubts." Tim held up his hand when Dick looked to say something.

"Then when Damian came along I saw the truth I was just a stand-in brother for you. Because you treated Jason horribly I was your second chance. A second chance at being a brother but then Damian showed up and I realized that as much as you have a big heart and you talk about being a family when it comes to being a big brother you only have room in your life to have one brother at a time."

Dick felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. "Timmy, that is not true."

"Isn't it? You tossed me aside for Damian, you made me an outcast in the Superhero community and you still haven't stood up for me telling them how wrong they are! Hell, only Kon, Bart, Cass, Helena and Jason trust me. I hear the whispers that I am crazy, that I am not to be trusted and not one of my so-called family stands up for me! I tried to be a brother to Damian and if he isn't insulting me he is trying to kill me. Like the time he cut my line!" Tim roared.

Dick froze, 'No Tim has to be wrong. There is no way that Damian would do something like that.' He couldn't wrap his mind around what Tim was saying. "Damian wouldn't do something like that."

"But he did." Tim snarled out viciously, "Your beloved little brother cut my line. He wanted me to fall to my death and I would have if I hadn't saved myself." Tim took a dangerous step forward, reminding Dick that Tim had gone toe to toe with Ra and had earned his respect which wasn't something he gave out. "Tell me Richard would you have mourned me or would you have done everything in your power to protect Damian?"

Ice filled Dick's veins at what Tim was saying and he wanted nothing more than to pull Tim into his arms and hug him. To get rid of the poison destroying their relationship, he took a step forward only to stop when Tim snarled at him. "No Timmy. I would never do that. I didn't know that Damian had done that. I swear I would have talked to him if I had known." To hear the truth that Damian had cut Tim's line that he nearly lost another loved one the way he had lost his parents sent him back to that terrible night all those years ago.

"There was a time I would have believed you." Tim's words were soft, lacking the vicious rage that his others had and somehow they hurt Dick the most.

"I can't lose you too." Dick pleaded and he meant every word he needed Tim in his life.

"You already did." Letting out a broken sob Tim steeled himself, "Until you can come to terms that while Damian has led a tough life it doesn't give him the right to treat me the way he does I think it would be wise for me to stay with the Titans."

Dick wanted to do something to say anything to keep Tim here but he couldn't. He could only watch as Tim walked away from him.

His world suddenly felt a whole lot colder.

[thefantasygirl3]

Negaverse stories: Bushroot's backstory

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action, Drama.

Word count: 3 581

Summary:  After the events of Darkwing Duck coming to the Negaverse and helping the now called “Darkwing Ducks” save st. Canard, the four heroes   decided to adopt the adorable little Gosalyn, buy a house and start a   life together. But the little duckling is curious over how all her dads became heroes to start with, so she asks them to tell her that story.

Notes:  The third story out of four, featuring the friendly four. I almost forgot to upload it here, but here it is. Only one more to go. Link  to other parts of the story: 1 - Megavolt. 2 - Quackerjack. 4 - Liquidator.

It was 9:00 am in st. Canard. Most kids were busy in school, learning their ABCs and 123s. Emphasis on "most". In the Darkwing ducks' household, the little duckling Gosalyn was laying in bed with an ice pack on her head. She had gotten sick that morning and her parents had made her stay home, which she thought stunk! What is she going to do when she's stuck in bed? While she's laying like a sack of sneezing potatoes in bed, all her friends are having fun at school, playing with their new dolls and talking about their pets. She wanted to hang out with all the other kids! But at least she wasn't completely alone, not only was Bushroot home, as he was a stay-at-home-dad, but Quackerjack also left Mr. Banana brain to keep her company while her papa was busy.

She let out a big, bored sigh and sank more into her bed, almost disappearing in the covers. But then she heard something from outside her window, making her push herself up with a groan and head over to take a peek. And outside she saw her papa, Bushroot, kneeled down by his garden and tending to the pretty little flowers, yet to bloom while he hummed happily. His fly trap was helping him by carrying the watering can for him. One of the buds started to make strange little noises before it burst out crying like a child. He gasped softly and bent down to give the baby bud soothing pats to calm it down. "Shhhh. Don't cry, my widdle baby! It's ok! Shhhh… it's ok. Go back to sleep. Papa's here" he whispered in a baby voice to the bud as it stopped crying.

Gosalyn puffed up her cheeks grumpily and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her papa acting like that to one of his mutated flowers. Always doting on them like babies. He never treated her like that! Was she getting jealous of flowers? Yes! Yes she was!

She walked over to the door to head out into the garden, but was interrupted as she let out a big, loud sneeze. She snivled and rubbed her beak of snot while glancing back at the bed, where Banana brain was looking over at her while lying lazily on the bed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just going outside" she told him with a stuffy nose before she sniffed a bit and continued towards the stairs. 

As she was half way down the stairs, she spotted the plant man starting to hurry inside and soon thereafter spotted the sick little girl dragging herself down from her room. "Oh nonono!" he shouted surprised as he ran over towards her and stopped her at the end of the stairwell. "Chickpea! You shouldn't be walking around! You should be trying to sleep the sickness off!" the nervous duck man started to gently usher her up the stairs, until he noticed her grumpy face and came to a stop.

"Hun? What's the matter? You don't look happy" he muttered concerned and crouched down to be on her level. "... I was lonely" she mumbled and lowered her head, getting red cheeks from the feeling of embarrassment. The plant let out a big sigh and stood up so he could walk over towards the couch. Gosalyn, without a word, followed after him and crawled up beside him. "Dandelion, you need to rest. But if you're feeling lonely, I guess I can sit with you for a while. So… what did you want to do?" He asked while reaching an arm out to wrap around her and pull her in closer. "... can you… tell me about when you became a hero?" She muttered weakly and looked up at him with a pair of puppy eyes. "Ah… so it's my turn now? I… guess it was inevitable. Very well… I can't say no to you when you make those eyes" he let out a soft chuckle before giving his daughter a smile and giving her a gentle hug.

Before I became… this, I used to be the head scientist in a food lab. We would find the best, cheapest ways to make our food. But I was… let's just say rebellious and used the lab to make my own interesting food experiments. See I wasn't exactly cooperative, I would bully the scientists beneath me to get my way and I'd use all of the equipment to do my own things. I'd even manipulate and bully my boss so I had him in my grasp as well. There was only one person I couldn't push around in the workplace and that was ms. Rhoda Dendron. 

Rhoda… she was… beautiful. She was smart and headstrong, an amazing addition to our little lab team. She'd treat me so coldly and would not give me the time of day at all. And I was crazy over her. She was so confident, I just couldn't help but fall head over heels in love with this feisty woman. But she absolutely despised me. She saw me as a jerk who disrespected everyone and didn't mind using others for my own self gain. And… she was kind of right. I'd be so nice and romantic to her, but she couldn't care less.

"What? Why would you like someone who doesn't like you?" Gosalyn asked confused as she nuzzled into her papa's side, glancing up at him slightly. Bushroot blushed up lightly and looked away from her, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead. "Um… well… she was… you know! She was pretty! And confident!" He tried to excuse himself while getting progressively redder. "Eh. It's fine. Love is weird. Please keep going" she told him softly as she dismissed the question as fast as she had asked it.

Anyways. One day, I was working in the lab, ordering around the other two scientists to do my work for me while I was investigating the growth of my lovely little plants. They were rushing around with hamburgers or something, doing whatever it was we were trying to do at the time. I honestly can't remember. But then, suddenly, one of the guys ran into me and spilled ketchup all over my plant. I gasped in shock and turned to him, face covered in rage. "You MORONS!" I yelled "Can't you watch where you're going?! You might just have ruined my experiment!". The other man ran over and helped his friend up, looking at me while apologizing. "Why I OUGHTA-" as I was just threatening them, I heard the door open and I looked up to see Rhoda enter. I was immediately smitten and I reached out to pull up the scared scientist I had just raised my hand to, finishing my sentence with "Help you up, you poor man!". 

She simply gave me the dirtiest look and turned her head away, walking straight past me without any acknowledgement. I just watched her walk past and ignore me, throwing my labmates to the floor in frustration. As soon as I did, the door opened again and my boss came in. He looked over at me with a big grin. "Ah! Mr. Bushroot sir! It's great to see how far you've gotten on today's assignment! I really am lucky to have you on the team!" He kept praising me, like always. I just huffed at him and went back to clean my plant off. "It's really those two you should be thanking! Reginald was probably playing with his flowers the whole time!" Rhoda scoffed as she took out her lab notes and pens, glaring back at me like I was the scum of the earth. My boss turned to her with a gasp and stormed over with an angry look. "Ms. Dendron! We don't make such harsh, unfounded statements towards our labmates! Plus, he wasn't the one who came late today, now was he?" He scolded her while she simply rolled her eyes and looked at him irritated. "And because of your tardiness, I will be forced to cut your pay!" He added on, finally earning a reaction out of her. "What?! How dare you?!" She barked in shock. 

I shot up straight as I heard that, realizing I could do something that I thought would be sure to make her like me. "Um, actually! I asked her to get me some documents that I really needed! That's why she came in a little late. Those documents were very important" I told my boss calmly while I slid up beside him, giving Rhoda a smug grin and a raise of my eyebrows. She frowned grumpily at me. "Oh! Very well then! Sorry for the confusion! Carry on!" My boss told the two of us before he left the room. I turned to Rhoda to smile at her, but she just turned away from me and huffed angrily. "Thanks, but I don't need your pity! I'd rather be fired!" She growled at me before storming off to her papers again. I was left standing there, sour and annoyed. I just stared and muttered under my breath "I will impress you… you'll see. I'll be amazing the next time you see me".

That evening I went back to my green house where I conducted most of my experiments. I was determined to show Rhoda what she was missing out on, so I had decided to put my most ambitious project into play. I had been working on a way for people to survive on only water and sunlight, just like plants do. If I could somehow combine a plant's DNA with a person's physical form then I was sure I would be on the front of every magazine and newspaper. But most importantly, Rhoda would be so impressed that she'd fall in love with me instantly. At least that's what I thought at the time. So I set up the machine, connecting a simple house plant to one end and getting myself ready for the other end. But before I started, I had set up a camera to film my achievement and I had just pressed record and started talking to the camera. "Attempt number 14, time 6:42 pm. Date- wait. The recording lists the date. He he! Well I have finalized all the components of the photosynthesis converter and I believe now is the perfect time to try it out on a living subject. And that will be me! Thank me later for making you famous, future me! Oh! And if I die and you find this tape, Rhoda, I want to say that I love you and that you deserve my position in the lab. I formally give it to her if this is seen after my death. Alright! Let's begin!" I finished my statement and ran over to the lab table so I could lay down on it. I hooked myself up and started the process, watching myself and the plant get raised up from the ground.

Everything became blurry after that. I barely remember anything until a while after I had woken up. I must have stumbled around in a daze for a while until I regained my composure. When I did, I was laying on a big leaf, as if it had caught my fall. My head was spinning and pounding, making my vision all white. When everything in my lab started fading into view, I finally sat up and rubbed my head, groaning and whining. Then I heard the sound of a gasp, catching my attention. I looked up and saw none other than my love herself, Rhoda, staring at me in absolute horror before letting out a blood curdling scream. I screamed too and shot up from the leaf. "Ms. Dendron! Wh-what are you doing-?!" Before I could finish, she grabbed a nearby broom and started hitting me with it. I yelped in pain at her hits and started to back away from her, backing up into a window where I saw a frightening sight.

I was a plant. I had turned myself into a duck-plant-mutant, green with a head full of petals. I was shocked, until I got another whack by the broom. I turned around to her and pleaded "W-wait! Rhoda! I-i-it's me! Reginald Bushroot!". She stopped hitting me and stared surprised. "Mr. Bushroot?!?" She asked in disbelief as I let out a sigh of relief. She then smacked me again, even though she just realized it was me. "H-hey! Stop! Stop hitting me! I'm not a monster! H-h-help! HELP ME!!!" I yelled and begged as she kept hitting me, until she stopped all of a sudden and screamed in fear. I looked up and saw one of my plants had grabbed a hold of her arm and was pulling her away from me, as if it was trying to save me. Instinctively, I ran over and grabbed her other arm, yelling "No! Let go of her! Don't hurt her!". And it did exactly that, releasing her and pulling back. We were both left in stunned silence, until Rhoda broke it with "you… can talk to plants now?!". "No… no! I never meant for this to happen! I was supposed to photosynthesize! I was going to eat like a plant, not be one! I'm going to be INFAMOUS Now! I'll be some sort of freak of nature, literally! It's awful! It's horrible! It's-!" I kept rambling and pacing back and forth, starting to panic over what an awful failure this experiment was. 

"Amazing! You're a super duck! You can make plants do what you want! That's so impressive!" She suddenly interrupted me, making me stiffen up in surprise. "It… is?" I muttered, clearly having this flattered grin on my face, judging by the sudden thoughtful grin that she got. "Oh… of course it is! Reggie! This is so cool! If I knew you could do something like this… why I'm just sorry for how I've acted!" Rhoda said in this sugar sweet voice, tilting towards me and giving me these big pretty eyes. I just blushed up and felt my body start to shake, like there was an assault of butterflies in my stomach. "R-re-r-reggie…?" I could only utter before I collapsed backwards, getting caught by the branches of a tree behind me before I hit the ground. "Oh you're so silly, Reggie. It's kinda cute" she commented with a small giggle.

Me and Rhoda had moved toward the front door of the greenhouse while I explained to her what happened. She interrupted me somewhere near the end by putting a finger to my beak. "No need to explain more. Why don't we go outside and try those powers out, huh?" She suggested as we headed out through the door and stood outside. I felt a little nervous as I removed her hand and smiled nervously. "Um… I'm not sure I should do that. What if someone sees me? I'll be taken away!" I told her, looking around nervously to make sure no one was around. Rhoda leaned over and grabbed my arm, whispering softly "do it for me". I just gulped and walked past her, looking around for something to do to impress her. I saw a few pretty flowers bit away and thought they would do nicely. '"Alright! How about you show me some fun tricks, cuties?" I asked kindly, watching as the flowers grew up taller and twisted around each other delicately. I watched with this big smile on my face, until they suddenly reached out to grab the nearby bench and threw it into a lamp post. "Oh no! Don't do that!" I gasped and tried to pull the flowers back while the lamp post collapsed at the middle and came crashing down beside me. Those tiny flowers sure were strong! Rhoda just watched me, mumbling something, sounding very impressed by what just happened.

"I'm sorry Rhoda! I didn't Think they would get so violent. Maybe I am just a monster now! I make plants come to life and attack people!" I started panicking as me and her were heading back inside. "Oh you're being silly, Reggie! Maybe… they just misunderstood you! Or wanted… to impress you? Who cares anyways? What you did was really amazing! Imagine what you could do with these powers. You could rule the whole city. With your… girlfriend by your side?" she told me as she hung onto my shoulders and gave me this sensual look. I just stared at her, not able to enjoy the moment after her mentioning the ruling the city thing. I just removed her arms and backed up a bit. "Ha ha! Funny joke!" I just said while still backing away. "No! I'm serious! You and I could finally make a mark on history! Who cares about science anymore!? We could be more than scientists! Reggie!" She insisted as she started to approach me more, this devilish smile on her face. "Uuuh! R-rhoda! I think you're misunderstanding me! I'm not an evil scientist! I just want to experiment with plants!" I insisted as I backed up faster, a big leaf coming down to help hide me since I was clearly scared. 

"Ugh! What's wrong with you, Bushroot?! Why are you such a coward?! You weren't acting like this in the lab! Guess I finally see who you really are, a loser! You have this fantastic opportunity and you're not taking it!" Rhoda suddenly started yelling at me as she swatted the leaf out of the way and stomped closer, causing me to fall backwards and crawl back towards my lab area. I grabbed the machine that mutated me and used it to pull myself up off the floor, looking at the angry woman horrified. Her attention was pulled towards the machine and her scowl turned to a light frown. "Well if you're not using these powers, then I will" she growled and ran to connect herself to the machine. But I grabbed her with my vine arms and threw her back away from it. "No! I'm not letting this happen to anyone else! I'M NOT CREATING ANOTHER MONSTER! THIS MACHINE WILL NEVER BE ACTIVATED AGAIN! EVER!!!" I started screaming as I turned around to face the machine. "PLANTS! DESTROY IT!!!" I demanded with a stomp, watching as the biggest plant in the room reached down to grab a hold of the whole appliance, ripping it off of it's wires. "NO!!!" Rhoda screamed and grabbed the emergency axe, swinging it at the tall flora and making it drop the apparatus back down. It broke open in a huge explosion, knocking me out cold.

I don't remember much after that. I was out for quite some time. I just remember my consciousness fading in and out as I was trapped under the debris. At one point, I could hear faint talking, yelling, as if there were people trying to put out the fire I assume was going on around me. Then my sight faded back in when I was free from the collapsed greenhouse. I was watching it grow further and further away as I was seemingly being carried away by someone wearing rather colorful clothes. When I finally woke up completely, I was staring at an unfamiliar roof, laying on a mattress, bandaged up and treated. I sat up and saw these two people in weird outfits sitting nearby, sighing in relief as they saw me awake. "Hey! You're ok!" The duck in the jester outfit cheered and smiled brightly at me. I completely ignored him and said the first thing on my mind. "My lab… what happened to…?" Before I could finish, the look on the rat's face told me everything I needed to know. It was all gone. My life work was gone. My eyes filled with tears and I just cried quietly. "H-hey! Not everything burned! This little guy made it!" The rat then said as he ushered over this adorable venus fly trap to me, which licked my face and nuzzled me gently. I just cried and hugged onto him tightly, letting the tears just flow as I began to sob uncontrollably. The rat and duck moved closer to me and tried to comfort me the best they could. I was crying like a baby for quite some time.

"After that… the guys took care of me until I was back on my feet. When I was, I told them my story and they offered to let me join them and help them fight crime. So that's what I did. And now I'm here" Bushroot finished his story and smiled down at his kid, who was half asleep in his lap, cuddling up to him. "So she didn't really like you… that's awful" She commented and let out a yawn. "It was… the biggest heartbreak of my life. I was never able to feel attracted to another woman after that. But I did find love… in my wonderful family!" He sighed as he hugged onto her gently and patted her head. Gosalyn smiled brightly and closed her eyes, muttering "I love you, papa". "I love you too" Bushroot responded with a huge grin, picking her up to head off to bed. Spike the fly trap took a peek out of curiosity, making the duck hush him softly. "Shhh. Let the angel sleep" he whispered before carrying her off to her room, Spike close behind.

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 4

Sad Boys and Fun Facts

Patton’s a sad boi but Virgil has a distraction

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

Three weeks had passed since Virgil had first texted Roman. In those three weeks, Virgil had learned a lot about his new friends.

First, there was Patton. God, did that man love puns. Virgil also loved puns, but he preferred reading Patton’s puns over making his own. Remus had caught Virgil blushing at his phone and made a comment about his new “friends with benefits” (Virgil had been unable to respond. He was too busy trying to hold back his giggles from one of Patton’s pun tangents). Patton also made it clear that he was the “Dad Friend” of the group. Virgil couldn’t type a single self-deprecating comment without Patton threatening to physically fight him. It was rather terrifying, really. He also made sure that everyone was taking care of themselves. Once they learned that they were in the same timezone (They hadn’t shared cities yet. Friend or no, Virgil was telling where he lived in that quickly) Patton made it his goal to check in and make sure that Virgil ate at mealtime. One last thing about Patton was his… struggle with technology. He tended to send almost everything directly to the group chat instead of private messages. Logan said that he tried to teach Patton how to do so, but the lessons never seemed to stick.

Speaking of Logan, the nerd had his own quirks. He didn’t type much, usually only responding when someone required everyone to respond. The other time that he typed was during debates. Nine days into their friendship, Virgil had mentioned saying “you too” to a cute barista and claimed that he ruined any chances with his new crush. While Patton and Roman offered words of encouragement, Logan remained silent. Virgil had assumed that Logan agreed with him but didn’t want to upset his boyfriends. As soon as their conversation ended, Virgil received a private text from Logan, requesting to debate. They argued over cognitive distortions for a whole hour before they reached a compromise. Logan had called the debate “lit” and asked if they could debate again in the future. That was another thing about Logan. Apparently, he had vocabulary cards for slang words. When he was talking out loud, he would hold the card up so the others knew what slang word he was attempting to use. When texting, he would put quotation marks around the word. It was adorable, in Virgil’s humble opinion.

Then there was Roman. Princey was known for his dramatic flair and Disney references. When he was feeling especially Extra™ , he would use “thees” and “thys” and call people peasants. He also had a love for nicknames. Patton had very few personal nicknames, with most of them being terms of endearment like “honey” and “amor.” Most of Logan’s nicknames pertained to him being a nerd, such as “pocket protector” and “Microsoft Nerd.” He seemed to have a limitless number of nicknames for Virgil, with most of them referencing his emo-aesthetic (how Princey had discovered that so early in their friendship, Virgil had no clue). He never repeated Virgil’s nicknames; the only exception was “storm cloud,” which he tended to use at least once every conversation.

Virgil had become extremely close with the trio over these three weeks. That wasn’t the only thing he did, just the thing he did most often. The Dark Sides had finalized their contract with Thomas, who set up a tour almost immediately. Virgil really should have seen that coming. Their band had become extremely popular over the past few years, and they had only done one tour before this. Performing across the country would help boost their popularity even further. Virgil sighed, his anxiety spiking at just the thought of seeing all those faces in the crowd. That was why he used the persona Anxiety. Anxiety wasn’t afraid of anything, he was fear. Being Anxiety allowed Virgil to be confident and suave without worrying about judgment. They judged Anxiety, not Virgil. The case was similar for Janus and Remus. Deceit was elegant and mysterious, while Duke was loud and over-the-top. They didn’t have to be rejects wanting to fit in with society. No, they were Rockstars. Society wanted to fit in with them. And Virgil was just fine with that.

Bzzz

Vigil glanced over at his phone. He was in Los Angelas right now, around halfway through his tour, which put him 3 hours behind his new friends. He glanced over at his clock, 9:45 PM glaring at him through the dark. He turned back to his phone. Why are they up at 12:45 in the morning? I know Logan keeps them on a rigid sleep schedule.

P- (9:45 PM) Ro? Are you still up?

V- (9:45 PM) Pat, why are you still up?

P- (9:45 PM) Why are you still up, kiddo? It’s almost 1 AM! Don’t you have a hangout with your friends today?

Virgil sighed, thinking of the concert he had tomorrow. He glanced over to his sketchbook. Patton had been really impressed with his sketches, so he had been practicing less gory drawings to show him. It had evolved into something almost therapeutic. Knowing how he worked, Virgil would probably sketch until around 2 in the morning, then sleep until 8 AM. The concert wasn’t until 7 PM, so he had enough time to sleep in if necessary.

V- (9:46 PM) First of all, you know I’m in California right now. It’s 9:46 for me. Second of all, we’re not hanging out until tomorrow night, so I can sleep in if needed. Third of all, you’re avoiding the question: What are you and Roman doing up at 1 in the morning? I thought you guys had work in the morning.

P- (9:47 PM) We do. Roman got a burst of inspiration at around 10, and he usually refuses to sleep until he writes it all down. He probably fell asleep at his desk, that silly billy!

V- (9:47 PM) That doesn’t explain why you’re still awake. And why didn’t you get up to check on him? I thought you guys lived together.

P- (9:47 PM) We do! I just couldn’t fall asleep tonight. And the bed’s too warm to get up!

V- (9:48 PM) Well, Princey’s probably being a “sleeping beauty”

Virgil frowned at his phone. Patton hadn’t responded to his text. Sure, that wasn’t a very good pun, but it was still a pun. Patton laughed at every pun he saw, or at least followed it up with another pun. He could be asleep, but didn’t he just say that he had trouble sleeping?

V- (9:50 PM) Pat?

P- (9:50 PM) Yeah, Kiddo?

V- (9:50 PM) Are you okay?

V- (9:52 PM) Patton?

V- (9:52 PM) I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Just because you didn’t answer my pun doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you. I’m sorry that I sounded like an asshole.

P- (9:52 PM) No, Sweety. It’s fine! It’s nice to know that someone cares about you!

P- (9:53 PM) I’m just a little sad today.

V- (9:53 PM) Do you wanna talk about it?

P- (9:54 PM) I’m fine, Kiddo! This just happens sometimes. No need to worry!

Virgil sighed, thinking about how much Patton reminded him of Janus. Janus grew up neglected, and was taught to convince everyone that his life was perfect. By the time Virgil had met him, Janus was 19 and a compulsive liar. Virgil wasn’t much better, having just gotten kicked out of the foster system. Virgil lived with Janus (and soon Remus) until The Dark Sides had enough income for Virgil to live on his own (technically Janus had more than enough money for that- his parents were loaded. But Virgil wanted to have something that he earned. He wasn’t just some charity case). When they first lived together, Virgil could never tell what Janus was actually thinking. It took a lot of time and trust to separate Janus from Deceit. Now, he was still heavily sarcastic, and he tended to close himself off when he got upset, but Janus had come a long way.

Virgil looked back to his phone. Patton didn’t seem to have it as bad as Janus did, but you could never tell. At least he acknowledged that he wasn’t okay. There is the chance that something really is bothering him, but Virgil had to trust Patton on that note. It is entirely possible that Patton is just feeling down today; God knows how many times Virgil would question why he should get out of bed. He bit his lip. What helps me when I feel sad for no reason? He smiled, remembering when Remus would spout the most obscene things to distract himself from his own negative thinking. A distraction.

V- (9:56 PM) Did you know that giraffes can clean their ears with their own tongues?

P- (9:56 PM) What?

V- (9:56 PM) “Rhythm” is the longest word in the English language that doesn’t have a vowel.

V- (9:56 PM) Elephants are the only mammals that cannot jump.

P- (9:57 PM) More like Elecan’t!

V- (9:57 PM) Haha :)

V- (9:57 PM) Without food coloring, Coca Cola would be green.

V- (9:57 PM) A 3-year-old boy was elected as mayor in Dorset, Minnesota

P- (9:58 PM) No way!

V- (9:58 PM) Yes way! His name was James Tufts.

V- (9:58 PM) 7 different dogs have been elected as mayors in the US.

P- (9:58 PM) I love dogs! They’re such good boys!

Virgil smiled, adding Loves Dogs to his mental list of Quirky things I like about Patton Morale. They continued to talk about dog mayors for a while until Patton ended it abruptly.

P- (10:14 PM) Why are you doing this?

V- (10:14 PM) Doing what?

P- (10:15 PM) Why are you going out of your way to try and cheer me up? You should’ve stopped talking to me 20 minutes ago. Instead, we’re laying here at 1 AM talking about dog mayors! I would have been fine on my own. Why are you wasting your time on me?

V- (10:16 PM) Pat, if you tell me that I’m wasting my time talking to you, I’m going to have to physically fight you. You are my FRIEND. I care about you. When you’re sad, I WANT to cheer you up. When you’re happy, I WANT to laugh along to your punny jokes. Because I know, at the end of the day, if I was sad and needed someone to cheer me up, you would do it in a heartbeat. You, Lo, and Princey are amazing people, and my time spent with you will NEVER be a waste. I swear.

Virgil sighed, dropping his phone on the bed. He might’ve been too forward with that last text. But it was true. While the four of them weren’t nearly as close as Virgil was with Janus and Remus, he still cared about them a lot.

P- (10:18 PM) Thanks, Virgil. That really means a lot to me

P- (10:18 PM) I’m gonna try and get some sleep now

V- (10:18 PM) Alright Patton, Goodnight

P- (10:18 PM) Goodnight

The next day, Virgil saw a postcard in the window of a gift shop. It had a puppy with sunglasses on the beach, with cartoonish letters saying “Having A WonderFUR Time!” He took a picture and sent it to Princey.

V- (1:08 PM) What’s your address or PO? I wanna send this to Patton.

R- (1:09 PM) Say no more, Hot Topic!

V- (1:09 PM) Aw, you think I’m hot.

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