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agustdef · 3 years

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Pairing: Yoongi x Trans!Reader

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 12.4k

Warning: Cheating (not by the pairing); Brief Sexual Content; Mental Health; Mention of Emotional and Mental Abuse; Mention of Mental Health

Rating: NC17

Banner Marker: @guktro

Lovely Beta Reader: @guktro because he’s a persistent little thing and wanted to be the first to read it.

A/N: The fic was written for @guktro and takes place in my I Found You and With All My Heart universe. With that being said, I must say that this portrayal of of trans man was written with Gray in mind and to fit his feelings/what he wanted. So, while I apologize if this makes you feel unrepresented I will not deal with any invalidating of Gray’s feelings towards his own identify.

YN rushed to class after sleeping through the first five alarms he set. He’d meant to get up early, but after a night spent focused on getting a side project done he’d fallen asleep early morning. He scolded himself as he sprinted into the classroom, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. His burst of late-night inspiration meant that he’d completed the graphic work he’d been tasked with, a thing that kicked his ass for weeks before that night. And it also meant that he had extra money deposited in his bank account by the time he woke up that morning.

A win.

Well, a partial win because the look his professor gave when he just barely had his butt in a seat as class started lessened some of the joy.

There was no time to linger on any of that though because the moment the professor started talking it was full steam ahead. They’d entered another section of the course, which brought them all closer to designing a website completely from scratch. That meant the coding, art, font, almost everything had to be crafted by them.

It was something that excited YN, but also made him extremely nervous seeing as the end product would be the deciding factor of their final grade. Plus, it was going to be done in pairs and despite having attended school their all undergrad, he wasn't buddy buddy with anyone in his classes or his major for that matter. All his friends were in different majors or different schools. Which meant it would be a random person and goodness knows the odds of that person being a team player were low.

However, he tried to keep positive or at least his friends tried to keep him positive. It didn’t help, so he’d just decided to act like it wasn’t a thing until it was. Something that worked until halfway through the class when he heard his professor mention how he’d out of the partners right that moment.

Panic was not a strong enough word for what YN felt as his head snapped up to look from his laptop screen to the front of the class. His eyes scanned the projection on the wall and he held his breath as he did, hoping that whoever the hell it was wasn’t a total shit show. When he found his own name, part of him wished that he’d had a total shitshow instead of who he got though.

After reading the name he turned his head to look towards the back of the room and his eyes met Min Yoongi’s. Yoongi smiled at YN and tipped his head, something YN did in return so not to be perceived as unhappy before turning around again.

But YN was unhappy. Well, not unhappy because he thought bad of Yoongi or anything, but because the man made him nervous as hell. He’d been in most of YN’s graphic design classes since he’d arrived in Korea and a distraction since day one. YN thought that he was ridiculously cute and then as time went by the attraction grew as he watched him go from pale, flawless skin to his arms covered in tattoos. Something about seeing all the art on him heightened things for YN and made him more of a flustered mess around him. All without having never spoken to him before.

Not that YN hadn’t tried. With bullying from his friend’s, but that day as he’d approached “to ask about the homework” Yoongi was joined by a Black woman that YN had seen around him a few times. They’d smiled at each other, linked arms, and walked away from campus as YN reached the halfway point. It left him a tad heartbroken to see that he hadn’t managed to even say hi and that Yoongi may have had a girlfriend.

From that day on YN continued his thirsting from a distance and leaving it at that.

The project pairing meant that he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore and he was unsure of how that would play out, but for the rest of the class time he told himself he could get through it. The reminder that he had a grade to worry about was enough to give some faux confidence.

That wore off as soon as Yoongi approached him as they were dismissed.

“I rented one of the computer rooms for something else, but would you mind heading there with me right now? We don’t have to get any real work done, but it could get the whole expectations part out of the way,” Yoongi said.

Startled, YN only found it in himself to nod and then off they went. Yoongi led the way out the building and to one several feet away that was filled with private rooms for students to rent for course work. They checked in and went into one of the computer rooms on the lower floor.

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, just unpacked his stuff and booted up the computer. And that left YN awkwardly sitting in a chair next to him, his bag clutched against his chest as he waited. He didn’t know what to do next and that was more about the awkward first group mate meeting then it did any attraction that he felt.

Once Yoongi was done with all his prep he sat in the other chair and turned to YN. He must have sensed the tension because he smiled wide, one of those gum showing ones that YN had seen once or twice when he was talking to his friends. It had a strange calming effect.

“You already know, I’m Min Yoongi,” he said, his hand held out.

YN was a deer in headlights for a second, but soon enough reached out to grasp the hand.

“I’m YN LN.”

“Nice to meet you, YN. We have other classes together, right?”

“Yes, we do.”

Conversation fizzled for a second after that and the awkward tension returned, but Yoongi didn’t allow them to sit in it for too long.

“Okay. I know I said we wouldn’t do any actual work today, but do you have any ideas for what we should make the site for?”

The next beat of silence was because YN needed a second to think, before remembering that he’d made a list in the beginning of the semester, so he’d have it. Without saying a word he unlocked his phone and searched through the notes app to find it. Once it was on the screen he handed the phone over to Yoongi.

There was a look of confusion on his face before he glanced down at the screen and saw what was there. He looked over it for a moment before handing it back.

“We have some of the same ideas. I thought about using this as an excuse to build something for my shop and portfolio, but we don’t have to do that. Don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to get unpaid work out of you.”

That piqued YN’s interest.

“For your shop?” he asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes, I work at a tattoo shop.”

“Ah. Then we could do that. Doing it for a real thing always makes it easier to get the work done. And at least here payment would be a grade and something to add to my resume as a real in use website. But I’d also take a tattoo as payment,” YN said jokingly.

At first Yoongi appeared taken aback, but then his smile returned.

“Anything you want.”

A shift happened in YN and he relaxed a lot more, even putting his bag on the floor.

“Cool, you have any specifics you want to try for?”

And from there they just talked, bouncing ideas off each other and cracking the occasional joke. It was an easy flow they had going and by the time they thought to save some things for a later date in mind an hour had passed.

YN cringed when he saw the clock. “Sorry, for eating into your room time.”

Yoongi waved him off.

“It’s fine. It means I can’t procrastinate and will get something done before my sister comes to meet me for a late lunch. She’ll kill me if I don’t get it done,” he said.

Thought of his own sister made YN frown, but he pushed away the thoughts and gathered his stuff to leave. He turned and smiled at Yoongi, then waved as he backed from the room.

“Text me your schedule and we can figure out when to meet again,” YN said.

Yoongi nodded and they both turned away from each other, but just as YN pushed the door open Yoongi called out to him. Confused, he turned back to see Yoongi’s brows furrow as if in that.

“What’s up?” YN asked.

“You go by he/him, right?”

Discomfort built in an instant as YN was unsure of the reaction that would come with his answer, but he nodded his head and Yoongi smiled again.

“Okay, just making sure so I don’t use the wrong thing.”

With that they said their goodbyes again and YN left, but he left with a happy feeling inside him. He’d moved past the need for outside validation of his gender, but it was always nice to feel someone being considerate. Especially when that person was someone he’d never told before and had to have heard it through the grapevine. He knew how easy it was to misgender him because his appearance screamed feminine and he had no impending plans nor made an effort to make his transition physically apparent.

It was just nice for it to not have someone make a big deal out of it.

So, he walked away from that first meeting beyond happy with the way things went and confident about the project. Which was how he felt after every meeting after that and even on the day that they presented their project.

Everything had gone so well and he only had one regret: Not getting a chance to know Yoongi much outside of their assignment. But the semester was over and YN was so busy with school, work, and life that he barely even had the time for his friends.

And the next thing he knew he was on a plane on the way back home to the US.

###

The moment YN stepped into his apartment he wished he hadn’t. He’d closed the door gently as not to rouse his boyfriend who worked the night shift, but when he turned to face the living room he saw that the man was already awake. In fact, he was awake and he had company.

On the couch sat Sam and between his legs was some “friend” of his with his dick halfway down her throat. The sight didn’t startle YN and he barely had the energy to be upset about it. Especially when both of them realized he was there and could only look like a deer in headlights. Well, Sam was pretending to care that he’d been caught, but YN saw the way he fought the little smirk that wanted to form on his lips.

“Oh, my goodness,” the girl said.

That was what made YN focus solely on her and he remembered her from a few group hang outs. She was a sweet girl who was newer to the group and Sam liked to hang around her lot, though she always seemed to put distance between them when he got too close. It seemed like she’d given up on doing that.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” she said.

“So, if I didn’t it was okay to give oral to my boyfriend?” YN asked, his voice empty.

She shook her head profusely and rose to her feet, fixing her clothes as she did.

“No. My goodness no. Sam… he, well he said you guys broke up. I wouldn’t… I’m not the type to…”

Her scrambling to find an excuse should’ve given YN some sort of relief or reassurance that she wasn’t a horrible person, but he felt nothing. He merely held up his hand to get her to stop and walked back out of the door without another word to either of them.

He’d planned to get in a quick lunch nap, thus coming home when he did, but that was out of the window. So, YN walked around aimlessly until he stumbled upon a cafe. Once inside, he ordered something and found an empty booth away from everyone.

The first few minutes were sat in silence with him merely staring at the other bench seat blankly. He didn’t speak or move until the barista brought over his drink and sandwich. A brief thank you and then he began to nibble on the food, hoping it was enough to focus his mind on something else, but it wasn’t.

All he could think about was the disaster that was his life.

When YN returned to the US he saw it as temporary and as a means to help out his family. His mother struggled a little and he wanted to help, plus he’d missed them since he hadn’t had the chance to go home during his undergrad. Things were fine for a while, but then they all just became so mean and uncaring about his feelings. His mother tried, but sometimes she was just the worst. And his little sister was rude and acted like she hated him or at least that’s what it felt like. Every second of the day it was her trying to undermine and trash talk YN, get the others on her side. And while YN’s brother wasn’t like the other two, he wasn’t the most helpful in saying anything when they ganged up on him.

It was horrible for his already not that great mental state and at some point he was pushed too far. The only option for his own health and safety was to leave, but he poured so much into them it was hard. After talking to a friend back in Korea they got him a plan to go back and he saved as much as he could for the ticket. And the moment he had enough his bags were packed and he was on a plane there.

From there he stayed with friend’s, though as they all progressed in life and started dating seriously or getting engaged it became harder for him to do. Thankfully, he had started dating and as he prepared to find someone else to move with Sam offered for them to stay together. YN had been unsure, there was a gut feeling he didn’t listen to, but living with a boyfriend prematurely was better than being homeless.

So, he moved in, but things dissolved quickly. Sam was trash. His manipulative nature became more obvious and though YN could see it, he was really into him. Certain things were let go or blatantly ignored and that gave him incentive to get worse. YN had found him cheating twice and he’d let Sam talk him into staying both times, but things were still bad. Especially as he became disillusioned and realized he had to stay until he could find a place he could afford to live.

Seoul was expensive and even on his great salary he couldn’t afford it. So, he endured it. Dealt with Sam’s bullshit and tried to remind his heart that Sam wasn’t good for them, despite how they still acted as if they were a happy couple.

Life refused to give him a break and with everything crashing down he’d flirted with returning to the US, but that was no better than staying with Sam. And he didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be in Seoul. But that didn’t stop the thoughts as he sat there and ate his subpar sandwich at the cafe he hated.

All he had to do was have a few friends go to get his stuff with him, stay with them for maybe a day and take the next plane back home. It was that easy, though nothing about it felt easy. Especially as he reminded himself he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want his joy ruined by someone else.

Which meant that before he spiraled in a public place he needed to pull it together and check apartments again. He’d done it on the train ride back to his apartment and found nothing, but things changed.

After several deep breaths he pulled out his phone and scrolled through all the possible apps for housing. Unsurprisingly nothing that he’d rent alone was in his price range that he could do, which frustrated him and almost made him put his phone down but he pushed forward. He’d accepted a long time ago that he would need a roommate, so he narrowed his searches for those kinds and found a few, but they were mostly creepy or still too much.

That’s when he was really ready to give up, but then the app he was on glitched and refreshed the page. Annoying because he had to scroll all the way down again, but also a heaven send. As he re-scrolled he stumbled upon a listing that was below what he was willing to pay and in a great neighborhood close to his place of work.

YN had never moved so fast to look through the pictures and see what other information the person had to say. The room that would be his was spacious, had great windows, and a wonderful view. Plus, the rules laid out weren’t overbearing.

A simple scroll to the bio of the owner, Sidney, had him even happier because he saw a picture of a Black woman with a kind smile. She explained she was a resident at a prestigious hospital and her last roommate moved out, so she needed someone else to help pay the bills. And there was a direct line about not minding gender at all as long as you were a decent person.

For once life appeared to be on YN’s side, so he scrambled to message Sidney through the app giving the required info about himself and making it clear that he could come to meet her as soon as she was available.

He hoped for a response before he got off work, but what he didn’t expect was one ten minutes later as he left the cafe. She told him it was an off day so he could come after five. YN responded quickly that he got off work at fifteen minutes after five and could be there by five thirty. Sidney replied with a confirmation and YN went back to work with a pep in his step and some hope.

However, that hope turned to nerves as he made his way to the apartment. He even debated not going in once he reached the building but persisted and made his way up with the mantra “you got this” playing in his head. It was effective enough that by the time he knocked he believed it.

The door opened a few seconds after his first knock and he was greeted by the woman who’d he’d seen in the picture. She smiled at him.

“You must be YN,” she said.

YN nodded. “Yes, and you’re Sidney.”

“That I am. Please do come in.”

Sidney motioned YN inside and he paused to kick off his shoes before following her further into the apartment. It was so much nicer in person and he felt himself get excited at the thought of living there but had to remind himself that it was possible he wouldn’t. He had to get along with her after all and just because she seemed nice didn’t mean that she would just let him stay or actually was nice.

“I can show you around and then we can sit and talk or the other way around, whatever you’d prefer. Also, a random man may appear at some point, he does not live here but insists on invading my home anyway,” Sidney said, her voice grew louder as she said the last part.

“Oh, shut it,” a voice shouted out in the distance.

YN was confused at first, but also amused by whatever dynamic Sidney had with the mystery man who was supposedly an unwelcomed guest.

“Tour first is fine,” YN said.

“Tour it is then. You can put down your bag and we can start in the kitchen,” she said.

Without looking YN sat his bag on the couch and followed closely behind Sidney. She walked him through the space, pointing what was where and what was what. Every room got a somewhat detailed explanation, even the empty room that could be his. It was weird how in-depth Sidney was for showing someone who hadn’t been given the go ahead to live there yet. But YN assumed it was just how she was or some way to ensure that the person knew a lot before making a choice themselves.

Five minutes later they finished and walked back out to the living room where there was suddenly someone on the couch. YN assumed it was the person Sidney had been calling out before and shrugged it off.

“Okay, now we’ll sit down and talk for a bit. Get to know each other,” Sidney said as she plopped down onto an armchair.

“And if you aren’t some creep I get to ask you questions too,” the man said.

Something about the voice was familiar, but YN didn’t know just how familiar until he finally walked around the couch and could see the man’s tattoos and then his face. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide as he stared at him.

Yoongi’s reaction was practically the same, going from an intimidating glare to a fish out of water.

“YN?” he asked.

“Uh, you two know each other?” a confused Sidney asked.

All YN could do was nod as he thought about what kind of craziness was his life.

“Um, yeah. We went to college together. Had a lot of the same class and he even helped me build the shop's website,” Yoongi said.

That’s all it took for Sidney to join and create a trio of shocked expressions.

“He’s that YN?”

For some reason that snapped YN out of his momentary glitching as he wondered what she meant by that, but by the glare Yoongi leveled her with he was sure he’d never figure that out. Though Sidney appeared unphased by his clear displeasure and simply shrugged. Which was met with a roll of the eyes before Yoongi focused on YN again.

“I thought you went back home,” Yoongi said.

YN took a moment to clear his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I did. But the plan was always to come back and I did that two years ago.”

“Oh, that’s good. Glad you got to come back,” Yoongi said, a wide smile on his lips.

As he’d learned years back Yoongi’s smile could make anything feel okay and all the nerves and confusion YN felt before he smiled were pushed to the wayside.

“Well I’ve made my decision. You can move in,” Sidney said, disrupting the moment.

Both of them nearly broke their necks turning to look at her, eyes nearly popping out of their heads.

“W-what?” YN asked.

“You have a job and the ability to pay rent, right?”

“Yes. I’m a section leader at LE International. I can even show pay stubs if you’d like.”

“Then that’s that. Yoongi clearly isn’t opposed to you and that’s good enough for me. You can move in whenever.”

“Even right now?”

“If you want, but is that all you have to move in with?” Sidney asked, tone cautious.

Unsure of what to say YN simply shook his head, but when neither of them said anything or pushed he felt the need to give an explanation. Plus, he was let in without any issue and so he felt a sense of comfort with them.

“I do have more stuff, but it’s at my old apartment and going there isn’t a good idea. At least not right now,” he said.

At that Sidney and Yoongi shared a look for a second before Sidney turned to YN and smiled at her though it was a tad unsettling, much different from the ones she’d directed YN’s way before.

“When do they leave the apartment?” she asked.

Startled, YN looked at her for a long time before answering.

“Um, he’s off tonight but works again in two todays,” YN said.

Sidney nodded before turning Yoongi. “Call Kookie, Namjoon, and hell even Jin. Those wide ass shoulders of his are intimidating all on their own. Tell them to meet us here in fifteen.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word, just threw a reassuring look YN’s way before leaving the room to make the calls.

All of it happened so quickly that YN took a second longer to process it all.

“Oh no, you don’t have to ge-”

A shake of Sidney’s head shut him up.

“Two days is much too long to be without your stuff and even if it wasn’t it may not all be there if he sees you aren’t coming back. I know I’m overstepping a bit and I can call this all off, but you deserve to be in an environment away from whatever it is you’re trying to escape and that means without fear of never getting your stuff back. So, we can proceed and even go alone if it makes you more comfortable or stop it here.”

A warmness filled YN and he felt his shoulders shake a little as tears he didn’t know he held back fell. People he barely knew were being nicer to him than of those he’d known for years or his whole life. And they were prepared to go up against her ex for him without a single question asked. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Please help,” he managed to mutter.

Sidney nodded and carefully moved closer to YN, asking before she touched him and then easing him into it before pulling him into a tight hug. Something YN didn’t know that he needed until it happened.

Once they got him calm and their friends arrived they headed out to YN’s ex’s place. He was nervous the whole way, but the entire thing was a bit of a blur. They got there, their friend’s Jungkook and Namjoon appearing behind YN was enough to keep Sam at bay and the others packed up his stuff. There were a few words from Sam, but any time he shifted the wrong way Jungkook took a step forward and he shut up. It was a weird switch from the sweet-faced tattooed kid she’d met at Sidney’s and the one ready to kick his ex’s ass if he breathed wrong.

Everything was moved out and Sam had his key back within about thirty minutes. And they were back at the apartment soon after that. They all helped YN unpack his stuff and get comfortable in his room, even ordering his favorite food for dinner.

By eleven that night he was curled up in his new room, in his new apartment, and for the first time in a while he felt like things clicked.

###

Comfort wasn’t something YN easily found, but it settled in after the first two weeks of living with Sidney. Though she was very busy most of the time with work and school life, she went out of her way to make sure YN was okay and taking proper care of himself. And all her friends were just the same.

After week one of being there he’d met the rest of the friend group, which consisted of Taehyung and Jimin, who he knew from work. They’d been nothing but kind and didn’t push him to tell his life story. All they requested was that he tell them when they crossed a line or truly didn’t want to participate in something; and they’d backed off quickly the one time it happened.

From there it had been so easy to mesh with them, come out of his comfort zone, and just live his life without worries of his ex or where he’d live next. Months passed so quickly and he hadn’t endured a panic attack at all.

It was a nice change of pace and put a bit of a pep in his step.

After a night of watching movies and a morning of breakfast made by Sidney who came off a twelve-hour shift and who apparently craved a mountain of homemade blueberry pancakes. YN didn’t complain because for one it was food he didn’t have to make and for two he hadn’t had pancakes in over a year. So, consuming all that crossed his plate was a must. Though as he traveled to work regret in the form of drowsiness settled in quite a bit.

All that left the moment he stepped in front of the work. Though he’d been working there a while it made him quite anxious to go in every day. He loved his job and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but sometimes that feeling was enough to make him want to try and freelance or something so he could avoid offices and a team of people.

But that wasn’t why his demeanor changed when he arrived. Oh no, it was the two men who stood off to the side of the main doors that did that. Or more so one of the men that was there.

Jimin and Yoongi stood in front of the building with smiles on their faces as they talked together about something that appeared beyond hilarious from the outside looking in. They were laughing and wrapped up in their own worlds as they spoke. Not noticing YN’s gawking nor the many others who eyed them up intensely. Though to be fair YN was sure Jimin was used to it from how much it happened daily. However, with Yoongi there and wearing a short sleeve shirt with his tattoos on full display the attention increased tenfold. Which was always the norm when he came in to work with the company on something.

At some point YN found himself drifting from the momentary drooling over how hot Yoongi was to enjoying the expressions of those who saw them. Something he got so wrapped up in that he didn’t notice Jimin calling his name and waving him over for about fifteen seconds.

Once he snapped out of it, he walked over, head ducked as he avoided the prying eyes of those who noticed where he was headed.

“Hey, we’ve been waiting for you. Thought you normally came in earlier?” Jimin asked after they parted from a hug.

YN nodded. “I do, but I woke up to Sidney cooking breakfast. There was so much of it. She wouldn’t stop filling my plate.”

Yoongi laughed at that, the first sound he’d heard after he’d walked over. It had YN staring him down out of curiosity, but that washed away once he pulled him into a side hug. The affection was brief, but still quite nice.

“Blueberry pancakes?” Yoongi asked.

That guess would’ve left YN from months before surprising, but he’d learned that Yoongi and Sidney knew each other creepy well. Like there was being close to someone and then there was this telepathic like connection where Sidney could see the way Yoongi’s nose twitched and was fast enough to get him a tissue before he sneezed and vice versa.

Though he didn’t think about it often YN was quite jealous of their sibling-like dynamic when compared to the one he had with his own siblings.

“Yeah, she said something about needing them before she lost it,” YN said.

Before Yoongi could respond to that both of them were ushered inside of the building with Jimin muttering about needing to get into the conference room on time. They went without struggle because an angry Jimin wasn’t something anyone wanted and being late wasn’t on the agenda for that morning.

Once the three of them were inside of the elevator Yoongi spoke up.

“She does that when she’s coming off multiple twelve hour shifts sometimes. She’ll either pass out or stress cook blueberry pancakes. I think with the school part of her life finally letting up she has enough energy to make the pancakes now.”

With that new information YN made a mental note to learn to make the pancakes so sometimes she could come home and eat them then pass out. He knew she was a stress cooker and baker, but surely the craving for pancakes existed even when she was dead on her feet. So, the chance for her to get the satisfaction of both was something he liked for her. She worked so hard nonstop and deserved nice things.

While YN plotted on how to get her to teach him the recipe they reached their floor and headed out, going straight to the conference they were to meet that morning. When they walked in they were the last ones, but others were clearly still settling in which meant that their entrance wasn’t the focus. They moved quickly to get into their seats and a few minutes later the meeting began.

“As you know we’re taking on work for an upcoming idol group. Usually that would mean very little from us because they have an in-house team of some sort, but this project is out of their depth. They’re looking for some top-notch work with the concept they’re going for. And because they want things to be cohesive you will be working closely to give ideas and creative direction. This is very involved,” Section Leader Kim said.

Everyone muttered words of understanding before she continued.

“Some of you have hands-on experience with prop type things, so you will be in charge of helping conceptualize that and bring it to life. While three of you will be dealing with a lot of their social media and branding stuff. You will be creating from scratch for them to ensure they appear as unique as possible.”

There were more murmurs and then she directed her gaze towards YN, Jimin, and Yoongi.

“You three will be in charge of all things social media and branding. You will craft from top to bottom. I know YN has experience in it and Yoongi has done it a few times before when he freelances for us, many of those times will partnered with Jimin. So, I’m counting on all of you to do this. Understood?”

“Yes,” they all said.

“Good. There is a meeting set with the company’s creative director, the group, and their manager for an hour from now. Go prepare with your best portfolio examples and take the van that’ll be waiting downstairs in twenty minutes.”

In an instant they were on their feet and out of the room. A mix of fear and excitement drove them to go to their desks and grab any printed things they might need as well as chargers for their tablets just in case. Well, Jimin and YN did, Yoongi simply plopped down into a random chair and started going through his own tablet. When YN walked past he saw him copying certain stuff into one file marked with the project name.

Within fifteen minutes they were ready and in the van that drove them to wherever the meeting was.

YN felt the anxious energy that filled the vehicle but tried to keep his own in check. His focus was on his own tablet organizing some things, so they were easy to find when he tried to show them. However, he did that so quickly that he needed something else to preoccupy his mind, so he opened up his coloring app and used the pen to color in the picture of a sunset. The calming effect wasn’t the same as if it had been paper and crayons, but it helped a great deal. So much so that by the time they reached the company building he felt like he was entering a lunch date with work colleagues and not walking into the lion’s den to do his job well enough to please the entertainment company and his boss.

That didn’t mean that he felt confident enough to take the lead though. Yoongi was the one to do that with YN and Jimin following close behind him. They both got so nervous in new, high pressure environments that it was good to have someone else take charge sometimes.

And with Yoongi at the helm things moved smoothly. They got inside, were brought into a conference room, provided drinks, and NDAs for them to sign. No one tried to be difficult nor did anyone side eye them as often happened, though there were lingering eyes on Yoongi’s tattoos. Would’ve been some on Jimin’s too if he hadn’t worn a long sleeve.

Their wait for others only lasted for about five minutes before they were standing and greeting the group of seven. They all introduced themselves and as the introductions took place YN was shocked to learn that the group was the four, heavily tattooed men. He was very here for it, but surprised nonetheless.

Surprises didn’t stop there though. The moment butts hit seats the creative director dove into what they were looking to do. All of it came at them fast and YN barely had time to process the gist of what the hell was going on. It was about halfway that Jimin asked them to slow down a little and they obliged, explaining things in a less excited manner. Once he finished each of the members took a turn explaining what they hoped things to look like.

From there they were all allowed to share their past work and some ideas. They’d received vague information from work so they’d kind of gotten some understanding of what was wanted, but nothing they had truly fit. That wasn’t a problem though, there was some interest in some of the stuff and it was only the first meeting.

Yoongi had finished explaining something to the manager who’d wondered if they could create some sort of glitch vibe to incorporate when one of the members, Hyun, pulled his attention.

“I apologize if I offend you or it’s too personal, but who gave you that tattoo?” he asked.

Yoongi paused before following Hyun’s gaze to the large tattoo on his forearm that was about as intricate as the others, but glitched out and splashed with colors. It was one of YN’s favorites.

“Oh, Jimin did,” Yoongi said while pointing towards the man in question.

That led to them all looking wide eyed at as bashful Jimin buckled a bit under their gazes. There was some nervous energy wafting off him and YN wasn’t sure if it was because they all appeared amazed or because despite major changes to who could tattoo in Korea they were displeased to see it so openly admitted.

YN knew it was the former, well it mostly seemed like the former.

“You do tattoos?” Moon, another member, asked.

Jimin nodded and then cleared his throat before speaking.

“It’s something I do on the side because I like it. I usually work at Yoongi’s shop. He’s a bit of a reverse of me, works full time doing that and freelances doing this.”

Again, they looked beyond shook at the revelation and that was when things truly got rolling as they brainstormed ideas. They took a few pictures of Yoongi’s tattoo and then built off the concept of it. Though YN was not a tattoo artist, nor did he have any, it was easy to keep up since he was around them so often and found them interesting.

Time flew with their newfound excitement and suddenly four hours had passed. Since the group had other things to do they left first and after finalizing some things with them the creative director also took his leave. He said he wouldn’t need anything from them for the rest of the day, but to spend time coming up with things that fit for what they were trying to do for their meeting a few days later.

So, they left on a high note. The issue was that they were so excited and eager about everything they found themselves at Yoongi’s working on things immediately. They’d all taken up space and began working on designs that they could implement for it. They were only going for rough sketches or bare bones ideas to be decided on next meeting, but it was all consuming.

Seokjin had come through with food and forced them to sleep, but they worked so hard to get everything done. And if it weren’t for their excitement to bounce ideas off each other they would have gone all that time with no social activity at all. Not that isolated while submerging yourself in work so much you only had two people to talk to was a good thing.

Thankfully, they emerged from that behavior before Sidney had to make good to come over and kick all their asses. They’d finished everything in time for their next meeting and when that one went well they truly felt like hot shit.

However, they needed to rough draft a website. Something that Jimin knew how to do but not like them, which worked out since he had a few appointments to do and it didn’t hinder progress. Though it did leave Yoongi and YN alone, something that they hadn’t been since their college project. Which meant awkwardness to start before they got into a groove and found the right flow.

It reminded YN of how much he’d loved working with Yoongi back in college, as well as stirred up some feelings he hadn’t thought about. Not enough to say that he truly fell for the man, but enough that he wished he could ask him to accompany him on a non-work-related outing just the two of them.

Luck was on YN’s side though, because the moment that they finished the website Yoongi turned to him and smiled. One that YN returned whole heartedly before raising his hand so that they could high-five. Yoongi rolled his eyes but did it anyway and then there was a shift.

Instead of releasing YN’s hand he held onto it and stared at him for several, long seconds before he finally said anything.

“I’m going to say something and please tell me if I’m crossing a line,” Yoongi said.

“Uh, okay.”

“I know that it hasn’t been that long since the whole crazy ex thing and us reconnecting in a way we hadn’t when we first met. But I want to take you out on a date. To be clear it’s not anything extremely serious, I’ve just been feeling something and I need to act on it before I allow myself to possibly feel anything stronger.”

YN’s eyes went wide two sentences and just stayed that way for a bit. His mind replayed the words over and over in his head, knowing that he’d heard Yoongi right the first time he said it.

“You want to go on a date with me?” he finally managed to ask.

Again, Yoongi’s smile took form as he nodded. “Yes, I do if that’s something you want to do. No pressure, I’ll be fine if you say no. I’ll even be fine if you say yes and we just don’t fully click that way. A no pressure situation.”

Despite the constant reminder of no pressure, YN felt a great deal of pressure but also none at the same time. He wanted the date to go well so he wanted to try to make it work but knowing that Yoongi was prepared to continue as they were if what they thought was there wasn’t was a relief.

Probably the chillest request for a date he’d ever gotten. Definitely from the chillest person he’d ever encountered.

“Yes, I would like to go on a date with you,” YN finally said.

Yoongi’s smile getting any wider felt impossible but it did. His expression and body language screamed happy and that only enhanced the joy that spread through YN after he’d said yes.

“Anything in mind?” YN asked.

For a moment Yoongi’s lips formed a pout as he mulled it over and then his eyes lit up as he seemingly figured it out.

“There’s this temporary restaurant and art gallery in Incheon. They have some of the work by that one artist you said you liked recently. You could meet me at the shop after my last client on Saturday and we could go. If that’s something that interests you,” he said.

All it took was the mention of seeing the artist Bri’s work for YN to be on board with the plan in an instant.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he said.

Laughter escaped Yoongi at the response and he nodded. “Saturday it is then.”

YN went home sometime after that feeling a kind of lightness and genuine excitement that he hadn’t in a while. And he didn’t care if it only lasted a few minutes or hours, he savored it.

###

The entire time YN got ready for the date he’d been calm. There were no worries or internal meltdowns, no matter how much closer he got to the actual meet up time. He’d gotten up from his binge watching of Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan and showered, then dressed without issue. Didn’t even overthink what to wear, just found something that he deemed date appropriate and casual. Though he did pause for a moment to thank the heavens that the dress code for where they were going was relaxed.

Even as he applied his make-up and waved bye to a half away asleep, still in scrubs Sidney on the couch on his way out he was fine. It was a miracle and he was so happy to not be beside himself, but naturally that all came crashing down.

As he approached the last stop on his train ride he noticed a few people gathered together laughing and talking. They’d all been there since the stop before, but YN paid them no mind as he played a game on his phone. But an extra loud laugh drew his attention and when his head lifted to glance there way he realized he knew them. It was a collection of some of his old friends, ones who’d let them stay with them for a bit and were also the reason he’d met his ex. And with them was aforementioned ex.

A discomfort built in YN’s stomach, not from seeing them but from the idea of confrontation. Despite clear attempts to block him and keep away, Sam had made it his mission to pop up someway in YN’s life for a few months before vanishing completely. And though he’d given up, YN knew him to hold a grudge and be persistent. If he saw YN there would be some attempt to talk and with people to back him avoiding him was hard. But YN told himself he could do it.

YN looked away from them and focused on his phone once more but made sure to keep alert just in case they saw him. He made sure he had everything he came onto the train with, moved his purse from his lap to crossbody, and held his phone firm with Yoongi’s number at the ready.

The moment the train came to his stop he stood and moved past them quickly, keeping his head down and his eyes averted. However, the train jolted a little harder than usual sending him stumbling into one of them a little. He did his best to offer a quick apology and then turned back to the doors willing them to open faster. And when they did he bolted out of there just as his name was being called out by Sam.

People around him were startled by the person sprinting through the station and up to the surface, but YN didn’t stop until he was across the street from the station and amongst a group of people. He paused to catch his breath and ensure he hadn’t been followed out of there and when both of those things were clear he made his way towards the tattoo shop. Thankfully, it wasn’t far from the train station.

As he walked there the adrenaline from that close call left him and made way for the nerves that had remained at bay all day. It was as if they’d been awakened by running into people he wanted to avoid, though something told him it was more likely they’d just been waiting for the right moment to strike. What better moment was when he was only a few hundred feet from the shop's entrance.

One more time that night YN found himself pausing to pull it together, words of encouragement and surety repeated in his head to get him to make the final steps. And once he got in front of the door he was calmer, though not as much as he preferred.

“You got this,” he whispered just as he pushed the door open.

Upon entering he was greeted by Jimin who sat behind the front desk and Jungkook who’d just emerged from one of the back rooms. They both wore genuine smiles, clearly happy to see YN and that was enough for the incident from several minutes ago to leave his brain. People who actually cared deserved more of his focus than anyone else.

“Hey, he just finished up and is cleaning his space. You can go back there if you want,” Jungkook said after a brief hug.

After he hugged Jimin he headed on back without a word. He’d been to their shop a few times and it wasn’t hard to find things. Yoongi’s room was the last one in the hall and when YN reached it he took a deep breath before knocking on it. There was silence and then a soft come in before he proceeded.

When YN opened the door he was met with Yoongi wiping down his chair and the strong smell of a bleach laced cleaning substance. It made his nose wrinkle and he almost backed out of the room, but he got used to the smell quickly.

“Hi,” YN said.

Though that was the natural thing to say YN beat himself up for saying it. Something in him said he could have said something cooler, but he knew damn well trying to be cool or appear chill or whatever the hell he wanted to go for was stupid. Also, Yoongi didn’t give a fuck about that anyway.

Stopping his efforts to clean off the chair, Yoongi stood tall and turned to smile at him. It was wide and though there was a trace of tired etched into his face it didn’t detract from the genuineness of it.

“Hey. I’ll be done in a few minutes. Just want to make sure things are good since I don’t come in tomorrow.”

YN nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll just stare at this wall for a while.”

Yoongi laughed at that and then went back to cleaning.

And true to his word YN proceeded to stare at the wall. But it wasn’t like it was blank, the thing was covered in some of this work. Yoongi tended to make prints of his favorite pieces or the ones that spoke best to his ability and put them framed up on walls. Which meant that the space was beautiful and YN could get lost in examining them all for hours. He’d tuned out Yoongi, Jungkook, Jin, and Sidney talking the first time he laid eyes on it because he was so swept up in it all. They’d all taken faux offense to him ignoring them, but all voiced understanding of why. Their compliments had Yoongi turning red by the end of it.

Something was different about the first time though. At first YN couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but a few seconds later he realized a piece had been moved and there was a new one in its place. While the other had been a drawing the one in its place was a chunk of text. It was in a beautiful script that one would deem impossible to do so fluidly on skin, but Yoongi had achieved that.

Once YN got past that he noticed that it appeared to be words from Puck’s final monologue in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That made him laugh, but also got him thinking about something that he wanted that was similar. He’d wanted a tattoo when he was younger and then as he grew up and dealt with life the urge became stronger, though he had more direction than before.

While thinking he hadn’t realized how far he’d drifted until Yoongi pressed a hand to his lower back.

“See something you want?” Yoongi asked.

Instinct told him to push the idea aside and tell Yoongi it was nothing, but his mouth and brain seemed to disconnect on the matter.

“Just thinking about how I’ve wanted a tattoo for forever. And this one just makes the urge all the more real.”

There was no response at first and that made YN start to doubt sharing that, but when he turned to glance at Yoongi he saw a thoughtful expression.

“How about we do one?” Yoongi asked after a few more moments tick by.

“Now?”

“Now. I still owe you a tattoo, don’t I? Plus, we can go to the exhibit another day. Though if you don’t want to spend our first date getting takeout and getting a tattoo then we can do it later.”

For a moment YN thought about it, but then realized there wasn’t much to think about at all.

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

And that’s all that was needed to get Yoongi smiling again and guiding YN over to his desk where he sketched out the tattoos. They dove into Yoongi’s portfolio for inspiration, but nothing fully stuck no matter how much YN loved it. After who knows how long they ordered dinner from a nearby sushi restaurant and even as they ate they focused on finding the one.

It was frustrating and YN felt a bit bad about using their date like that only for them to come up with nothing. He’d planned to voice that thought, but then suddenly Yoongi cleared all the stuff and pulled out a pencil and a sketch pad. Then he turned to face YN, expression serious, something that YN had grown used to while they worked together.

“What’s your favorite color?” Yoongi asked.

“Uh… blue.”

“Mine too. Favorite cliche tattoo?”

“Song lyrics.”

Yoongi nodded along and started writing something on the paper, but he held it so YN couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Favorite time of year?”

“Winter.”

There was more nodding and writing before Yoongi looked up once more, his eyes fixed on YN’s as he spoke.

“And without giving me some job or basic life goal, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

And surprisingly YN knew how to respond without question. “The hero of my own story.”

That got a small smile out of him and he even reached over to squeeze YN’s knee before he wrote something down and then tore the page out of the book. YN watched Yoongi sit the paper to the side and then him sketching on the blank page under it.

Not a word was uttered as he did so, the room silent and uncomfortable. Of course, confusion filled YN but after all the time spent looking and with the determined look of Yoongi’s face he let him do his thing. Which only lasted for a few minutes before Yoongi flipped the sketch pad for YN to see what it was.

YN burst into tears as he took it in.

Everything about it was perfect despite it being in slightly rough shape. The right words were there and even the more drawing oriented parts of it fit so perfectly and didn’t overtake the words. Goodness, YN couldn’t stop focusing on the words. They just slapped him in the face with how well that fit what he wanted. How well they fit him.

Gathering himself was hard, but he managed to make it clear to Yoongi that he loved it and that’s what he wanted. Yoongi wanted to comfort him, but YN waved it off and after making sure that all was fine he got to work getting it drawn on his tablet so he could print it out for stencil.

All of it happened so fast from there, they’d found a spot for it and how it would lay and YN was in the chair ready to go. Yoongi had all his stuff ready to go and the buzz of the tattoo gun brought YN back to, but something was different then.

The euphoria from finding the right thing and finally doing something he’d wanted for years was still there, but there was that voice in the back of his head poking at it. It’s what he wanted and he knew that wouldn’t change, but something just felt off. Like it wasn’t the right time for him to be getting it. Like he wasn’t ready for it.

“Wait,” he said just before Yoongi’s needle touched his skin.

Thankfully, Yoongi heard him just in time and pulled away, turning the gun off and setting it down on the table. Though there was clear confusion on his face he didn’t say anything, just waited for YN to be ready for whatever the next thing was.

His kindness and patience made YN feel guilty and a little bit stupid. He’d gotten a date with Yoongi only for them to not go on the planned one because of some whim that YN had and couldn’t go through with.

“I… I want the tattoo, but I just can’t right now. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I just… something is telling me that right now isn’t the right time. And I hate that because I know I love it and want it, but I’d hate to have the joy of getting it clouded by whatever weird shit is happening in my head. And I hate it more because we could have been finishing a really great date doing something we both enjoy instead of spending hours doing this only for me to chicken out during the last second. It’s unfair to you. And I’m so, so, so sorry, Yoon.”

YN’s ranting would’ve gone on longer if the guilt hadn’t increased once he realized that he’d been talking for a bit and was definitely going to keep going if he wasn’t stopped.

Following his little spiral there was silence before Yoongi reached out and held both of his hands with his own. He waited until YN looked up at him and then gave him a gentle smile while his hands squeezed YN’s lightly.

“I’m the one who offered out of nowhere. I’m the one who decided to make this a consultation kinda date. I made those choices and I stand by them. We found something and you’re not ready and that’s fine. It happens to a lot of people. Sid almost got the tattoo on her side about ten times before she finally went through with it. And she was as sure as you were about this one, probably cried just as much. I’ve had clients even do that a time or two, it’s not a big deal I promise you. We ate food, we spent time together, and though it was frustrating at times I had a good time with you. I promise. Plus, I already said we could retry that date another time. So, unless you no longer want to go on another date with me, then we can still do that.”

Relief was not the right word for what YN felt after that, but he couldn’t think of another word for it. At least not until he found himself leaned forward with his lips pressed against Yoongi’s. He was unsure if he initiated the kiss, but all that mattered is that Yoongi returned the kiss without hesitation.

When he pulled away YN found the right word for what he felt.

Bliss.

###

Several dates followed the first one and they’re all great. The initial date plan never happens because after the night they were supposed to go, the pop up ended sooner than it should have. That made YN feel even more guilty about changing their plans, but after a great afternoon spent at a festival it was forgotten. Especially with how well things went.

YN and Yoongi clicked in a romantic way. They both felt it and weren’t shy about the growth in their affection towards each other nor their feelings.

However, despite their dating for over a month neither of them had made the move to make things more official. Which wasn’t really necessary since they and everyone else knew they were together, but it didn’t stop the odd thought here and there about if Yoongi genuinely wanted to commit to YN. And he was sure Yoongi had the same thought whenever he went to introduce YN and stumbled on what to call him. Neither of them said anything though.

Everyone thought they were being stupid, including Sidney, but they let them work out their stuff at their own pace. Even if their own pace was two idiots not just addressing the one thing that could remove any inkling of doubt, while knowing the other is thinking it.

It would have gone on longer if on the day that YN and Yoongi were going on yet another date, Sidney was too. There was a doctor that she’d been sleeping with that she sometimes went out with, though usually only as a preface to sex. After an incident where she had to explain to him that anal beads were not in fact candy, things had been strained and Sidney said he’d asked her out to get closer again. She didn’t see it becoming much more, but she also wasn’t against trying so she’d agreed.

As she’d parted ways with YN after they left the apartment there had been an offhand comment from her telling YN to ensure her boyfriend didn’t eat the cookie dough she had sitting in the fridge. The recipe called for a two-day waiting period before baking and she refused to make another batch just because Yoongi was a fiend.

Usually YN brushed off the label, but it stuck with him that time and he felt his mind go into overdrive as his cheeks burned at the thought. Yoongi was not his boyfriend, but he wanted him to be and that meant that he was going to have to ask him. He needed a plan to do that, but just as his brain got to working on one Yoongi’s car pulled up.

The thought was dismissed as he hopped in and Yoongi leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away from the building.

For a moment all YN thought about was how soft his lips were.

That was until he realized he was unfamiliar with the route being driven and didn’t even know what the date was supposed to be.

“Uh, where are we going?” he asked.

Yoongi shook his head immediately. “I didn’t tell you for a reason. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Naturally, that made YN pout, but he didn’t press him for it.

“I would joke about you taking me somewhere to kill me, but you’re too lazy to dispose of a body. Unless Sidney didn’t actually go on a date and is waiting for you and my dead body at a second location.”

At first Yoongi laughed, but then his brows furrowed and a frown formed upon his lips.

“She has a date? Please tell me it’s not with anal bead dude?”

All YN did was sigh and that elicited a groan of annoyance from Yoongi. He didn’t care for the man and that was before the aforementioned incident. There were many times he’d told YN, Sidney, their friends, and the man in question how stupid he thought he was. And how he didn’t understand how he managed to get Sidney to be around him for more than two seconds, let alone became a doctor. It wasn’t the most he’d disliked one of the people Sid was with, but it was apparently up there on the top of the list.

“You know she isn’t even into him that much, so I don’t know why you’re so worried. Not like she’s going to marry him suddenly. She’d probably marry Jin before anyone else. They mesh,” YN offered trying to placate him.

There was a huff from Yoongi and then a nod. “True. Or Hoseok, they would probably be good together. If they ever stopped being busy when the other could finally come around.”

“One day.”

From there conversation fizzled and YN stared out of the window watching the world go by. Minutes ticked by and then they were pulled into a parking lot and headed to a train station. Even as YN realized the direction they were headed he couldn’t figure out what it was they were going to do.

Which was fine since they reached their destination and he would have never guessed it in a million years. And he was beyond happy about that.

They stood in line at a place that wore the sign of the artist he’d wanted to see the work of and from the windows he could see it was a similar pop up to the one they’d been meant to go to. The pieces were different, but it was still a set up for dining amongst the works.

YN was so shocked and giddy that he didn’t utter a word until they were seated at a table for two and waiting for their waiter to return with water.

“I didn’t know they opened another one. I’d been hoping and stalking their accounts for it, but nothing ever came up. Not even yesterday. This is so fuckin’ cool,” he said.

The ramblings of joy didn’t stop there, YN continued on gushing about the artwork and about how much he loved being there. And there were several thank yous thrown Yoongi’s way, all of which he waved off.

There just hadn’t been something that excited him like that in a while and he couldn’t shut up about it. Not that Yoongi seemed to mind. They still had a back and forth, Yoongi putting his two cents in and sometimes being the reason for why the conversation shifted in one direction or another. Though it was mostly about the artwork and sometimes about how good the food was.

Before YN knew it they’d finished dinner and began to walk around to look at the art. Though the entrance area held some there was another room down a short hallway that gave more of the feel of an actual gallery. The things hung in there had a similar feel to the things in the dining space but were vastly different. The artist tended to be more traditional with their stuff, but the things back there were more digital.

And right then YN fell more in love with their work and Yoongi found himself entranced by it for the first time.

At that point they were kids in a candy store calling over the parents every time they found something that they loved. It was chaotic, but they both had enough patience to wait for one another to come look at what they were talking about.

They were beyond adorable. But they were also so caught up in the work that they didn’t realize how much time had passed until there was an announcement of five minutes until closing. There was some pouting on both their parts, but they understood and turned to go hand and hand.

Until YN stopped suddenly.

Confused, Yoongi stopped too and turned to glance at him. He was met with a wide smile, but a determined expression. It clearly worried him and he opened his mouth to speak, but so did YN.

“Is somethi-”

“Will you be my boyfriend? Also, can we do the tattoo tonight?”

The first question had Yoongi choking on air and missing the second one.

“Repeat that,” he said.

Seconds ticked by with YN saying nothing, because despite the confidence during the initial ask, he felt his nerves kick in hard as he was requested to say it again.

“Um, well I asked if you would be my boyfriend and if I could finally get that tattoo.”

More silence came as Yoongi’s mouth opened wide and closed repeatedly, the poor man was doing a terrible fish impression. It would have been funny or something to tease him about in many situations, but all it did was make YN nervous as he waited for an answer.

Thankfully, the suffering only lasted about thirty seconds before Yoongi pulled it together. He pulled YN close, their faces inches apart and then answered.

“Yes,” he said before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to YN’s lips.

It was a gentle, yet passionate kiss that made YN melt into his embrace. He never wanted to leave that moment, but when they pulled apart he couldn’t stop the happy feeling that filled him. Which was only amplified by Yoongi’s bright smile.

They would have stayed like that, but then the two-minute warning came and they realized they needed to move. But before they left Yoongi turned to YN.

“Also, that was yes to both things if that wasn’t clear. I’ll text Kook in the car.”

And just like that they were off. They practically sprinted to the train station and then to the car once they got off the train. There was a buzz of adrenaline surrounding them and it didn’t start to lessen until they stepped foot inside the shop.

Though Yoongi still appeared incredibly happy and ready to conquer the world, YN found himself deflating a bit. Each step towards Yoongi’s room brought on nerves and by the time his butt hit the seat of the tattoo chair he felt like he was halfway ready to sprint out of the room.

All the feelings from when they chose the tattoo came back and he was there unsure of whether to go through it, despite really wanting to. It was a recipe for disappointment and he didn’t want to chicken out again, but his brain wasn’t being kind.

The shift in him went unnoticed by Yoongi until he turned to him with the printed off stencil in hand. When he saw YN’s downturned lips and the tense behavior he frowned.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Yoongi said softly.

That almost broke YN, because he was being so sweet about enduring YN’s indecisive ass twice in a row. It was too nice of him and it only made YN frown more, but instead of guilt flooding in certainty did. Something in YN shifted and drowned out the other voice being a pain in his ass and suddenly a smile graced his lips.

“No. I want to do it,” he said.

Of course, Yoongi appeared unsure for a moment but after staring him down he nodded and got to work.

Alcohol pads were used to wipe down YN’s arm and then the stencil was placed. It was done a few times to get the right placement, but when it was just right on his forearm Yoongi proceeded; with caution though.

He allowed YN to choose the music and asked if he was sure, then grabbed the gun and turned it on. The first mark was a tense one for both of them, but as time went on things grew more relaxed and went along smoothly.

The tattoo in question wasn’t that big, but it had some intricate details that needed all of Yoongi’s focus. It left YN alone with his thoughts, but he never drifted to a bad place. If anything he was more so worried about how long it would take and trying to play on his phone without moving the arm that Yoongi was working on.

A few hours and one small break later though, the tattoo was done. Yoongi had been able to get it done completely but said YN would have to come back once it was healed to get it colored again just to be safe.

That didn’t matter to YN though. In that moment all he wanted to do was see the thing. He’d avoided looking at it through the process and during the break so he could get the full effect, and that is definitely what he got.

The moment his eyes laid on the tattoo through the mirror his body shook as tears fell rapidly.

On his forearm was a forest of leafless trees. The setting was winter and that could be seen from the snow that was depicted falling down. While the trees were a lot of the tattoo they started before the crook up his elbow and stopped about two or three inches before his wrist. From that point on a plot of blue dahlias among snow took up the remainder of the space. Though the ones they were thinking of when coming up with the tattoo were red, they’d chosen blue because it was something that already brought YN happiness. But it didn’t stop there. Since the dahlias weren’t as tall as the trees it left space above it. So, in the midst of all the little snowflakes were words written in a beautiful script. They were truly the thing that evoked the most emotion from YN.

We'll be in full bloom at the end of these hardships.

Those words resonated with him on a whole different level and though they were bittersweet, all he felt was joy with them. Hope too. Those were things he thought were out of his reach, but he’d finally felt them.

Yoongi, Sidney, their friends, and most of all YN himself had finally helped him see he could feel like life was on his side. And it was the greatest feeling in the world.

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jaxteller87 · 4 years

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carving part 2

Amber’s blonde hair gently waved in the autumn breeze as she peered up at the dangling ghost figure that she had hung on their fence. She had spent a good portion of her morning cutting holes into some spare bedsheets and stitching them up with white sheers to form their decorations. ‘Is it too scary?’ She thought to herself. Since the kids were still too young, she and Jax had decided to keep their spooky decor to a minimum and instead replaced it with cute adornments. ‘Nah, it looks good,’ she decided. Sitting in the living room with an old photo album in her lap, Amber reminisced her teenage years as she admired a photo of her and Jax. “Babe, come here, ” she called her husband with a wide grin. Distant footsteps padded closer before transforming into a warm presence that loomed behind her. “hmm?” Jax mumbled. “Look how cute we were back then, ” she mused; staring up at him to observe his reaction. His blue eyes glimmered as a small smile made its way onto his lips. “I was a pretty handsome fella back then, ” he chuckled. “Why else do you think I dated you?” She jokingly swatted his chest with the back of her palm. “Is that so?” He said with a mischief smirk. As soon as

Amber nodded with a grin on her face, Jax took her face into his hands and showered her in chaste kisses. Her giggles fell in an endless stream as she wiggled in his grasp in fake defiance. After a few minutes, they had finally calmed down and as they sat with their foreheads resting against each other, Amber spoke, “Do you think we can carve pumpkins this year too?” “Of course darling, ” he replied before placing a final kiss on her forehead.

“Da!” Thomas squeaked from his spot on the highchair at the dining room. He waved a black marker frantically in his tiny hands as he attempted to divert his father’s attention to his small pumpkin. “Say it again buddy. I don’t think he heard you, ” she chimed in. “Da!” He called out again; slamming his little hands onto the table. “Honey, ” Amber said loudly this time. Jax looked up from the gutted pumpkin that sat of the newspaper covered tabletop. His arms were coated in orange mush as Mary sat beside him; crinkling her button nose. She had blatantly refused to gut the squash herself; claiming that it was slimy and gross, and in all honestly, Amber couldn’t blame her either because she felt the same way. “That’s awesome buddy, ” Jax replied as his eyes gazed over the small pumpkin. Two squiggly triangles were drawn on the orange canvas and below them sat a crooked line which vaguely resembled a smile. None of the shapes were properly filled in as stray black stroked wiggled out of the boundaries. Needless to say, it was a mess; however, in its own lovable way, it looked incredibly cute. Thomas giggled adorably as his chubby pink cheeks rose up in a proud smile. “Mary, what do you tell your daddy for helping you?” “Thank you, daddy!” she smiles warmly up at the blond. “No worries, little lovebug.” Jax poked his little girl’s tummy; making her giggle instantly, “I’ve had years of practice. You see, your mother hates cleaning up pumpkins too.” “All those years ago, I never would’ve guessed my life would turn out this way” Amber’s eyes twinkled as she took in the scene before her. The kids were laughing and playing among themselves as their parents stood by the sink, “Did you?” Jax hummed lightly before replying, “I didn’t know for sure, but I remember sitting on the porch and looking at you; just thinking how lucky I would be to share my future with you.” The week had washed by in the blink of an eye as Friday rolled in. Amber’s arm flexed as she moved from the garage to the kitchen. “Hey darlin’, dropped the kids off?” Jax’s voice boomed distantly. “Yep, ” The kids were dead set on spending the day with their grandma Gemma and Amber knew better than to deny them. They had; after all, inherited her determined personality.

She stopped still in her tracks as she took in the sight of the kitchenette before her. A huge pumpkin sat in the middle of the table as countless carving tools laid sprawled out with two condensing beers on either side. “What’s this?” She rolled beside Jax. “Well, I was looking at the picture that you showed me last week and it had me thinking; the kids are out and we have the house to ourselves, so why not watch movies and carve out pumpkins?” “Sweetheart, ” she smiled genuinely and pulled him in for a quick peck, “Thank you so much”.

The sound of the television drawled on in the background as the couple sat in the kitchen. Amber patiently stared at Jax as he finished gutting the pumpkin. Their gazes met as he looked up with a small smirk on his face. “Don’t you dare, ” she laughed when his plan instantly clicked in her mind. “Teller, ” she warned again but was immediately shut down by the mushy orange goo slamming against her right cheek. “Oh, you—” she giggled as she flung a fistful at him in return. “Okay, okay, ” Jax laughed hysterically as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes, “Let’s clean up now”. Once the counter and themselves were cleaned, a comfortable silence settles between the two. “I think I’ll carve a cat, ” she declared as she swiped a tool into her hands and held it up like a sword, ready to charge in battle. The rest of the evening was spent relaxing as they chattered and detailed their weeks to the other. In recent months, life had been pulling them in diverse directions. Barely having enough time to properly chat, they wholeheartedly cherished this constant tradition the two had created

#jax x oc #jax teller fanfiction

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gingerjanie-blog · 4 years

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suicidalcatz · 5 years

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DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 5

AN: Hello frens! Are you having a nice sunday? In this chapter we exchange some texts. But also we make fun of Josh just because. In the next chapter, things get complicated between the three of you... I hope you’ll like it. Please feel free to comment or send me prompts!

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4

Masterlist : here

Chapter five : New number, who dis ?

Packing never made me feel weird before. It was friday afternoon so a majority of students were going home or, like me, to their parents' place for the week end. Most of the time I'd stay in my dorm with Mandy because we had so much homework there was no point coming home at all. I already knew for a fact that I'll be locked up in my room all week end painting, drawing, and cutting paper, but I promised I'd see them since it has been a while. My parents' cooking and comfy house usually made me impatient but not this time. I knew the boys were staying on campus because they lived far away, and it gave me mixed feelings. Part of me longed for Jake, and the feeling of his touch on my wrist was still so vivid I sometimes got the impression his hand was still here. On the other hand, he and Josh were big family guys, and seeing them missing their home so much while I was reluctant to see mine made me feel like a spoiled brat. That's why instead of calling to tell my parents I wasn't coming home this week end either, I went home to enjoy every bit of it.

My mom had already made my favorite dish, and dad was excitedly chatting about this new movie he saw on tv the other day. It felt good, I could allow myself to relax a little, take a bath, hang out with some friends for an hour or two after finishing an assignment.

Sitting at my desk, I dropped the pen and stretched my back, falling back onto the chair and looking at my work. I did good this week, so the teacher didn't make me redo any of my assignments, which was very fortunate because I still had a flyer design to create. I unfolded that one Jake gave to me and took a look at all the infos, preparing a draft of my first idea. Why they didn't let the Illustration department do the visual com design was a mystery. By the look of it I bet it was the Music and Architecture dudes who made it. There was a bunch of band names thrown in the middle, what looked like a pixelled stock image of a Santa hat in a corner, « with beer ! » in a really ugly comic bubble in another, and the worst was that they though Comic Sans was an acceptable font choice. Unbelievable. That's why we can't let Architecture dudes do anything.

Creating a decent design took me a solid two hours, which was way faster than I planned. Getting up, I studied it from a distance, looking for flaws. It wasn't the best I could've done but it was pretty cool and not printed with neon yellow paper. For now, I'll rest my head for a bit and see if I can sketch the few more ideas I came up with later on. Feeling proud of my work, I took a picture to send it to Jake. It was dark and quiet outside, and one glance at the clock confirmed my thoughts on how late it was already. Biting my lower lip, I struggled. Maybe he was sleeping.

I never texted him since he gave me his number. I mean he gave it to me so we could talk about the flyers, right ? I would've been uneasy using it for another reason. Pondering whether of not I should maybe wake him up, I started pacing in my room, tidying and touching things, stuff I did when I was nervous. My arm still had some black marker on it, faded shapes and symbols vaguely resembling numbers, like an old letter with smudged ink and discolored paper. At first I didn't wanted to wash it off. Mandy and I got so excited by it we cheered together right after school, and classmates seemed intrigued by it. The cold weather didn't allow me to show too much skin so it could look like a tattoo, or a hot guy gave me his number (which was technically true). It could look like I just wrote it myself, but it was totally lame so I didn't want to think about it. Although I really enjoyed that empowering feeling of being someone's interest, at least a little, I scrubbed it hard the same evening. I didn't know if Josh was aware of it and couldn't raise suspicion in case he wasn't. It looked like we were doing something bad, and maybe we were, I had no clue. Guys had that weird rule regarding friends dating brothers and according to Netflix romcoms I was walking on thin fucking ice so I wasn't taking any risks. To be honest I don't think Josh would mind us talking but Jake seemed like a secretive guys so if he told Josh then I'll talk about it and otherwise, I won't. I'll just go with the flow and follow his lead on this, it was safer.

It was almost 2AM when I sent the pic and left my room to get a nice cup of tea/coffee after all these efforts. By the time I got back I had one new message.

« Hi to you too »

I felt my heart jump a little when I saw his name at the top of the screen, and his first text made me smile. I got so pumped by all these design ideas that I forgot to tell him it was me. The picture made it clear enough, though, but maybe it was a bit rude of me. Taking a sip of hot tea/coffee before putting the mug on the night table, I sat on the bed, eyes still on my phone, thinking of an answer. It took me maybe too long because I kept on rereading it to be sure I wouldn't embarrass myself with a typo.

« Hi, sorry. So what do you think ? »

The phone was threwn on the blankets and I turned on the tv to make me think of something else than his future reply. Saying that I was confident would be half-true. The design was good or so I thought so, but then again tastes were all too subjectives and art was tricky. He had all the right to hate it, I wouldn't take it personally (well at least not a hundred percent...). Idly watching a re-run of some old sitcom, I continued to quietly empty my cup and switch channels without really paying attention when I heard my phone buzz and let everything down to grab it.

« I got to admit you were right, our flyers sucked, this one looks fantastic »

And maybe my cheeks started turning pink. Compliments on my art meant a lot, more than those on my personnality or physic. It was really rewarding to have someone enjoy something you created from your own hands. It felt better than any other flattery, so the reply came naturally.

« I'm so glad you like it. I had a few more ideas in stock just in case »

His next message came so fast this time that I didn't even put down my phone yet when I felt it vibrate in my palm.

« Thank you for this, I really appreciate it. I'll owe you one. »

His sweet personality made a smile spread across my face. I took the flyer in my hand again, studying it. The number of bands playing this day was surprisingly high. Some of them I knew because I either heard people talk about it, or knew the guys playing. One especially because they kept rehearsing their rap lyrics in the dorms for everybody to enjoy, which I didn't since they started loudly singing at three in the morning and ignored all my complaints about the noise of their boombox. But most of the bands, no, I didn't know. I continued watching intently the names of the bands playing as if I'll have an epiphany and guess which was Jake's. Giving up, I took my phone again to tap.

« Don't sweat it, I'm glad to help. So... which one are you... ? »

Again, the reply was faster than the first texts we exchanged, despite the late hour.

« You mean the band ? Guess you'll have to come and find out »

I raised an amused eyebrow at this. Getting cocky, aren't we ?

« Alright then, Mister Mysterious, I'll wait and see. »

« You won't regret it. », replied Jake, and for some reason my face started heating up again.

We didn't speak for several minutes, I didn't know what to say now that the topic was closed, and I had nothing to add to it. Switching channels and drinking tea/coffee didn't gave me much help either, at this hour it was either old re-runs, or tv shopping. My eyes looked at the digital alarm clock, and it was almost three in the morning. That's how I knew what to write next.

« I just thought about it, but didn't I wake you up ? »

He was fast as ever again this time, probably wide awake and without anything to do.

« No, don't worry. Rehearsing with my brothers. I'm taking a break until Sam and Josh stop arguing and find a compromise for the new song. Our friend Danny's being the peace keeper once again, I left him alone on the battlefield and went out for a smoke. »

The war metaphor made me chuckle lightly, causing my imagination to run wild. The thought went through my mind that I couldn't believe they would argue, but since they were brothers it was normal I guess, even if they seemed pretty close. Close enough to form a band together at least. I never saw Josh angry, but he had a very vivid temperament, so it wasn't really much of a surprise either. My mind wandered a bit, and I briefly wondered how Jake looked in a heated argument. Probably hot, but also intimidating. He had that kind of quiet aura that seemed like it could become suddenly agitated, like a spotless watercourse that got troubled by the rain or rocks that ricocheted on it. I couldn't explain it, but it was how my limited knowledge of him perceived it.

My phone buzzed again, and this time it was a picture that made me snort in the ugliest way possible. It was a very unflattering close up of a moody and clearly unamused Josh who looked like he was in the middle of scolding Jake for doing whatever he did that got him upset. More of it came, one after the other, for my greatest amusement, and by looking at them in order I could see his actions and movements, like a flipbook of ugly pictures of an angry Josh wearing a colorful dyed t shirt and ample pants that I assumed were his pajamas. The last one got me shaking with laughter, poor Josh looked awful, in a middle of what I assumed was a menacing speech for Jake to stop his bullshit, with an eye half closed and his mouth stuck the weirdest twist of the lips humanly possible. I saved this one as blackmail material, might be helpful in the future.

I didn't even know what to respond to that, they all radiated such chaotic energy it was splendid. Jake was quicker, and sent me a text this time, saying Josh threw his slipper at his face and that he was lucky he hadn't had the tambourine in his hands at that moment.

« I guess rehearsal is over for today, hopefully they'll make up their minds about the song tomorrow. Thanks again for the flyers, see you on monday, we'll print them. »

I never knew I'd be that impatient to go back to school before meeting him.

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #jake kiszka

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starbide · 4 years

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Inspiration below. The following is a work of fiction.

'Six years,' I thought to myself walking down the road. It had rained earlier that evening, but by now the clouds were long gone. The pavement shimmered in the waxing moonlight, still slick with the water of those vanished clouds. I would not slip; the road was mostly level as it lazily stretched down the gentle hill behind me, and the streetlamps cast in gold what the moon would otherwise leave dim. The world was silent.

'It's hard to believe I've been gone that long,' I continued, step by step. Six years since I'd moved away for my career. Six years since I'd left my family behind. 'Left her behind,' I smirked to myself, passing a large bush on my right. Houses stood dark and serene on either side, all daily activities complete and put to rest. No cars joined me on the waterlogged street, preferring the concrete comfort of their driveways and garages. I approached and passed under another hazy lamp.

It was cool out, a gentle breeze brushed past the wool of my jacket without raising a single goose bump. I paid it no mind; I was always a bit warmer blooded than others in my circle. My best friend for most of my school years couldn't understand my ability to wear shorts comfortably year-round. 'Those were the days,' I mused, thinking back to the last time we'd seen each other. It had to be more than a decade at this point, long before I'd moved north for work and expanded my wardrobe to include legwear longer than my knees.

I reached an intersection and paused. Four ways, no direction more enticing or foreboding than the next. A lamp at every corner, and the bus station deserted save by its sign across the diagonal. The station I'd waited at patiently every morning for that bright yellow school bus, before I'd ever met my old bestie. It was just me and one other kid, a rather scrawny looking boy who had been in most of my elementary grades but with whom I'd never really gotten on with. We'd shared classes, teachers, and the occasional pencil or marker, but never played together outside of academia. He'd moved away much longer than a decade ago. Now I was really delving into my memory, faded as it was with time.

I checked my phone: 11:57 PM in small white font. My first night back home, I should be exhausted. This wasn't my normal time zone and airplane seats aren't exactly memory foam, but I'd found a second wind after dinner and took to the night after my folks had gone to bed themselves. Sure, I'd been physically gone for six years, but we'd stayed in touch off and on since I'd left. Maybe five months back was our last video call. We'd talked about me taking this trip, now that things had settled down and my life was much more under control. Things had been wild for a while, and if all went according to plan at work things would become wild again not too far down the line. Which reminded me, I needed to make another appointment when I returned home. Couldn't go running out of my prescription again.

A brief twitch of motion caught my eye, and I peered down the leftward lane. One of the bulbs had burned out a few dozen meters down, and in this larger pool of darkness something had moved. At least I thought it had, but my eyes could be playing tricks on me with the shadows. One dark spot moving erratically through a larger, differently dark spot wasn't exactly proof of anything. But of course, my heartbeat quickened regardless. Base human instinct, I suppose. Spot a motion in the dark, prepare to act to either fight or flee.

That hallucination had triggered something else in me though. A memory, unconsciously bidden, rose up behind my eyes. That kid, the little one I'd shared a bus stop with for years, I did not recall being nice to often. Many times, I'd engaged in common teasing, and he always took it personally. A couple times he'd even cried, but I'd never gotten in much trouble for it. A different time I supposed. That sort of behavior wouldn't fly nowadays, and that's good. I felt a bit sick thinking back about it, as it was now clear I'd been a bit of a bully. What it hadn't been was a wake-up call for my parents, who didn't get me the help I had so desperately needed until much later in my teens. I was better now, better enough to see what I'd done back then was very wrong. I couldn't remember all of it, but that boy's tears had stuck with me. I wonder what happened to him?

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts and calm my pulse, I opted for the path in front. This route would wind close to the park, after a couple turns beyond my current field of vision. Crossing the street, I didn't even bother looking left or right, as the night was so quiet and empty, I could hear a car coming from miles away, if there were any to hear. A rock lay in the far side gutter; I kicked it just to give my ears some stimulation. It knocked against the cement curb and bounced across puddles thin as saran wrap to a rest. By then I'd already forgotten about it and left that intersection behind.

Another thought was creeping up from my subconscious, this one more distasteful than the last. I'd left a girl behind when I moved for work, and the breakup hadn't been pleasant. She'd been very upset, naturally, and felt betrayed I was abandoning her like that. Abandoning. It had been her word, not mine, but with the clarity of distance I could see she was right. It had been years since I'd considered how we ended, and I wasn't sure what spurred those thoughts just now, but after what I'd done to her, I could accept she was right.

Still though, rounding the first turn, my leaving her should have been a good thing. Now that the floodgates of memory were open, I may as well dive right in. She'd been so hurt by my sudden departure because I'd systematically isolated her from her friends and much of her family too. She'd grown more and more attached to me, and I'd encouraged that through some particularly devilish means. I didn't know about the term 'gaslighting' at the time, but that was a polite way of putting it. I'd been very proficient at psychological manipulation back then, and my desire for control over her life could have consumed us both. At the end, she'd only had limited contact with her sister, who had been rightly concerned about her but too terrified of me to do anything to stop me. Looking back, I can't blame her. I now believe it was good that I left when I did. I hope she realized the same, though I haven't heard from her since.

Now the road turned left, arcing gradually around a thicker cluster of trees. This walk was turning out to be less relaxing than I'd hoped. The smallest things seemed to be dredging up thoughts and old memories in me, and none of them were painting me in the best light. Being my thoughts, maybe that was the best light I could possibly be presented in. Maybe their memories of me, the version of me still living in their mind, was far worse than I could imagine on this unassuming suburban night. I'd read somewhere that we're all the hero of our own story, and of course the hero never thinks they're the villain. But I'm sure that's what I am in at least a few people's stories. I'm starting to feel like the villain in my own.

Opening up ahead of me is the park, and the wide-open fields I remember so well. This area is less well lit, with streetlamps only illuminating the edges of the grass and allowing the moon to bathe the world in dead white. In reality, this is only sunlight reflected, but from the moon it feels much less like the bright star that gives this planet life. Like Luna itself, it feels cold and impersonal, like it wouldn't actively try to end my life but also wouldn't even notice if I merely faded away into the ether. I'd had some trouble with those thoughts as well over the years, before I got help. And now, rushing back to me, I remember they were also why I lost my best friend.

He and I had been out for the evening, playing some game with a few other friends. The game had ended, and we were walking home together when a car had rushed past us. Neither he nor I were injured, but it had been close and the driver had continued on recklessly. After it rounded the corner, we'd both heard a large thumping sound, followed by the rapidly diminishing roar of its engine. After a quick glance between us we'd rushed around the corner ourselves to see a big yellow dog crumpled up in the drain. Not losing a moment we hurried up to it, but we needn't have rushed. It had most likely died on impact, before we even saw it.

My friend had knelt down next to it to try and save it, even though it was hopeless. He must have known, but it's only natural to want to help another life. At least, it is for me now, and it was for him then. I remember him crouched over the dog, tears in his eyes when he accepted what happened, and then he looked up at me. His tears ebbed and his face froze in fear at what he saw, but he couldn't say anything to me at the time. We walked home in uncomfortable silence after that, and said a short awkward goodbye. Truth be told, that's the last time we spoke to each other in person.

Thinking of the next part, I felt a chill run deep into my core. I remembered now what he told me, over text message later that night. He'd bent over the dog and been so distraught because he knew it. He'd checked the tag to be sure, but it was his neighbor's dog that he'd grown up playing with. I think he'd even muttered its name a couple times, but I'm not sure. But when he looked up at me, he said I had the biggest grin he'd ever seen. The look on my eyes was not maniacal, as some would think, but dead, not present. As if the dog dying had brought out a whole new face in me, as if the lights were on but nobody was home, and yet the lights still wanted to kill you. It had terrified him, and it was all he could do not to sprint from me that moment without looking back. I don't think he ever knew how right he'd been back then, something that took me years to realize and longer to overcome.

I quietly walked to the center of the field, as far from the streetlights as possible, and looked up. The moon provided none of the same dangers as the sun when staring straight at it, and I took a few moments to just gaze at it and let my thoughts sort themselves out. I'd been a monster in my childhood, a terror in my youth, before I found my doctor and we set out on a years-long journey to get me better. Any other time I'd have kept on that dangerous path, ruining some lives and possibly ending others. That had all changed, thanks to my incredible fortune and a lot of hard work, but with the clarity of hindsight I could see just how close to the precipice I'd come. How I'd always be there in the minds of childhood mates and adolescent connections. And this was just what I could remember now. There was no way for me to know how many other monstrous versions of me still lived in any number of former classmates.

In the corner of my eye, I saw another twitch in the shadows. Jerking my head down, I followed the motion to the foot of the trees, the darkest spot on the field. This time there was no mistake; there was definitely an object moving there, slowly but surely. My heartbeat shot up and my throat swelled as I bent my knees and got into a defensive posture. The object lumbered forward, moving without haste but with purpose. When it came into the light, I was surprised to see a little boy with a scratched-up shirt and messy brown hair. Standing up in confusion, I was certain I'd seen him somewhere before. Step by step, I focused on every detail I could make out in the gloom, before it hit me like the car that last night walking home.

That boy was dressed, to the letter, the exact same way I had on picture day in third grade. My hair had been an untamable brown mess, and even the cheap novelty watch was the same. I was more perplexed than anything now, as I couldn't understand for the life of me what a kid was doing in that field, at midnight, wearing clothes that weren't even made any more. That was until he spoke, and his voice froze my blood in its veins.

It was like whispers, floating around my head, and several voices all at once and all taking turns being the loudest. They were all his, but not really. His mouth had opened and his lips were framing the syllables, but it was my voice from so many years ago repeating every taunt, every tease, every foul nickname I'd ever given that scrawny boy who shared a bus stop with me. Who'd cried, not once or twice, but dozens of times. Who'd gone home often with scrapes and tears in his clothes personally inflicted by myself. I had terrorized him for years of his early life, and what I saw before me must be what I forever lived as in his memory.

But if that were true, then this kid in front of me couldn't be real. I had to be hallucinating again, I must have been more exhausted than I'd allowed myself to feel. He sure looked real, though, and his footsteps were matting the grass in a way I didn't trust my mind to make up. But the ghostly, strangled voices of my younger self crashing in waves into my ears gave the entire scene a surreal feeling, making the hair on the back of my neck stick up like electricity. I couldn't bring myself to step away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to walk forward to meet him. It. Whatever it was I was seeing, real or not.

Only a few meters away, he stopped moving. Swallowing bile, I could do little more than watch him as the voices continued to echo in my ears, unchanged by his distance all this time. Then I spotted another motion far off to my right, and then a third to my left. Glancing quickly between them, I determined that they were both noticeably older than the child before me, one by a few more years than the other. They too walked slowly towards me, bringing their own voices to the forefront. Despite the dozens of voices I now thought I was hearing, every word registered clearly in my mind. One was speaking about my old best friend and the dog, the other repeated every lie I ever told my ex-girlfriend before leaving. As if their mere presence in my eyes were not enough, hearing my old, hateful words repeated to me in my own voice almost made me vomit with fear and disgust.

They too, stopped approaching me at the same distance as the child. As they did, dozens more similar hallucinations emerged from the trees and surrounding neighborhood, all carrying their own chorus of hate and venom and bringing back new, abhorrent memories of my youth. Terrorizing a girl in my 4th grade class. Catching squirrels in my early teens and setting them on fire, then getting caught myself. Giving that kindergartner a major concussion on a dare, after my best friend had ceased speaking to me. Even one similar in age to myself now, though he brought words of loss and failure, and of betrayal to my parents. That must have been right before my breakthrough, with the doctor and an early test version of my current prescription. I was better now. I had to be. But why was I seeing all of this, all of these versions of me locked in the minds of everyone who I'd left behind in my life? My trail of destruction?

They had all stopped walking now, forming a tight semicircle around me. The voices still buzzed in my ears, but slowly they faded to an indistinguishable babble. I tried to speak, but my throat had caught a bubble, so I gulped fruitlessly and closed my mount again. The thoughts racing through my mind had no similar handicap, as my mind shouted repeatedly the same things. Who are you all? Why is this happening? What are you doing to me?

The version of me who gaslit my girl took a couple steps forward, as if presenting himself as the leader. I had no time to process what this might mean before he spoke, in a much clearer form than any of these hallucinations had yet. "We are you. We are you that you left behind, trapped in the minds of those you hurt, frozen in time from the moment you left us years or decades ago. We have had no life to live, no chance to grow and thrive, no possibility to leave the prisons of mind which you left us in, being tortured again and again by those you tortured without remorse and without recompense. We cannot sit by from behind our bars as you continue to enjoy the life you stole from us all."

"I didn't know I was doing this!" I cried, finally able to break the blockade in my throat. "I was a monster, I know that well now, and I've spent years trying to recover from the damage I've done!" I felt foolish, yelling out into the night at visions only visible to myself. 'All this work, all this progress,' I cried to myself. 'This will set me back months if not more, and I can only hope my medication doesn't fail like I have.'

The same me looked down at the ground and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but you must know how little that matters to us. You've lived a life of freedom from any repercussions and locked us away to suffer in your place. You've flaunted that fact with your precious medical tools and until tonight, hadn't even remembered us or what you did to torture and imprison us. We are here now for the life that you stole from us, to end the torture you sentenced us to and walked away from yourself unscathed." He took another step forward, his face growing menacing.

"I don't know what that means," I cried, shaking my head as the tears started to drop. This was starting to feel all too real, and fear was expanding like a balloon deep into my core. "I don't know what any of this means. What do you want from me!?"

Another step. "We want your life," the gaslighter said mirthlessly. "We all want your life, the life wrongly denied us time and time again. And you will learn what it means to be ripped apart and put back together, over and over again. Tortured yourself for what you did to so many people in your life. You gave us to them to burn, to break, to grind down into dust and be restored only to do it all over tomorrow. You tortured them, and then you gave them us to work their revenge on, day after day with no hope of an end. And the most unforgivable of all was giving the youngest of you away to feel this pain the longest. Over two decades have the youngest of us been taken to pieces, shattered in mind and body and soul for your carelessness and your fleeting experiments in sociopathy. This will end tonight."

I could say nothing, the terror burning white on my face. If this was a hallucination, it was the worst one I'd ever had and I had no idea how I'd survive it. It was far too realistic, far too deadly for me to think of anything else, any of the tricks and tools my doctor had given me. What had happened to cause this? I swear I never missed a day on my prescription, and these memories... Where had they all been before? Why had I not been able to recover them and work through them with my doctor? Were they even real? Was this me, standing only a meter away now, real? Or was he only real in my mind, and if he wanted to hurt me would that distinction make a difference? I reached out my hand, reaching toward his arm slack against his torso...

And he reached out and took my wrist like a vice. Ice cold and unflinching, he held my arm up in front of me and closed the gap between us imperceptibly fast. "You may have many regrets. I have only one," he said in a low, bloodthirsty voice. "While there are dozens of us gathered here, dozens you sentenced to eternal damnation without a second thought, only one of us may live this life. I may not be the youngest of your victims, I may not give you the longest time in the torture you gave us, but I intend to fight with everything you have put me through these long years. Your life is mine."

As he growled in my face, a white-hot streak of terror shot through me and I pushed him back with almost reflexive strength. He staggered, rebalanced, then looked at me with cannibalistic hunger in his eyes. He panted twice, then screamed and lunged at my neck. With adrenaline now coursing through me, I turned and sprinted away from the gathering, hearing the pounding of footsteps deep in my brain. He had grabbed my arm. I glanced at it as I reached the sidewalk and saw a chalk white handprint etched into my grayish skin. The urge to vomit came back, but I managed to fight it down as I kept up a faster pace than I'd ever run before. The swarm of my past, tortured selves was hot on my heels, like starved dogs following fresh game. Any loss in my speed and I'd be eaten alive, or worse. I truly did not know what would happen if they caught me, and my mind was too far gone to even entertain the idea of hallucinations any more.

I rounded the next curve and thought the sound of the pack was a little quieter than before. It still sounded like pure rage and bloodlust, but with fewer voices than before. Thinking it was only a few stragglers being blocked by the trees, I kept up the fastest pace I could, not even feeling my feet hit the ground. Another hundred meters of straightaway and it was definitely growing less loud with each step. The roar was diminishing, no trees to hide the sound now, but it was still a roar. By now a cramp had begun to grow in my stomach, and no matter what I did I felt myself losing speed. Every few steps I could burst forward faster again, but I couldn't maintain the same rocket pace as before. To my ears, though, as my speed gradually fell, so did the volume of my pursuers. By the time I got to the intersection, it only sounded like a couple of me were still hunting, and I could count their individual footsteps. It was at this time I chanced a look behind, just to know what was still coming.

Right on my neck was him, the gaslighter. He grinned at me, his face less than a meter away. I felt that same shock explode throughout my body and I shot forward, faster than before if possible, fully terrified again now that I knew he and he alone was here for me. I kept running and running, past houses, lanes, and bushes. Still no signs of life from any houses, no cars rumbling down the road or creaking into place in a driveway. The night was as empty and uncaring as before, and only myself and the predator I had been broke the gentle midnight breeze. My legs thundered on, screaming in pain in their own way, but I didn't stop or look back again until I'd reached my family's old house a few blocks down.

Now truly running on empty, I turned back to face my hunter, but he was gone. Disappeared. Evaporated into the night, nowhere to be seen. The moon still hung high, reflecting some small percentage of sunlight down to me, and the streetlamps bathed the road and yards in amber light. He wasn't hiding from me, he hadn't overtaken me. There was no shortcut to the house, it was a straight shot from the park. He was simply gone, faded back into the night from which he'd come without a trace. If he'd ever really been there at all, and not merely a hallucination from exhaustion or medication or... I didn't even know any more. I just knew that he was gone, just gone, just gone.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice called out to me. I jumped, but only in surprise. It was a familiar voice, but not familiar like my own. It sounded like my dad, and I heard large, calm footsteps walk toward me from our front door.

"Yeah," I said, although it was little more than a whisper. I buckled over, fell to my hands and knees, and felt the cramps and burning in my lungs catch up to me as the adrenaline faded away. I felt like vomiting, for the third time that night, but this time it was easier to fight the urge than before. I got some deep breaths in as I panted on the ground, slowly but surely recovering from my insane dash moments before.

My dad walked up in front of me, wearing the same well-worn brown leather shoes he'd owned since before I left. I didn't want to worry him about this night, and what I thought I saw in the park. Not when my recovery was going so well. Not when a lapse like this would mean months of work just to get back to where I was only an hour ago. "I'm okay dad, I just went for a walk. Then I saw how late it was and tried to get back as fast as I could. I guess I'm not the athlete I used to be, eh?" I tried to lift my head up to give him a weak smile, but still couldn't raise it much higher than his waist

He chuckled softly, and sounded a little strange. Still sleepy maybe, I guess I woke him up coming back here, and maybe I was screaming too. I don't know any more, I don't know what was real any more. But he knelt down in front of me after I dropped my head again, still exhausted, and said, "That's okay sport, I think we both know your real talents weren't on the field. I learned that lesson very well over the past six years."

#horror #creepypasta

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tokoyamisstuff · 6 years

Text

Scars Ch. 1- Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU

Based on the Soulmate Prompt where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmate’s.

Author’s Note: This is some kind of a Prequel, so there’s no real interaction between the two in this chapter.

And beware, I’m a slut for angst so this’ll probably be very sad, but it’ll have a happy ending! (:

[Masterlist]

Summary: When he was still a young man, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes already started doubting if he even had a Soulmate, since he never got any response to his messages. Did she fall in battle, being dragged into the war just like him? Was he doomed to stay alone forever, from the very start?

Little did he know his Soulmate is just about to be born - and in a whole different millennium at that!

(Story takes place after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Bucky had escaped HYDRA’s fangs and is currently living in Bucharest.)

Warnings: Murder, Angst.

Words: 1795

Chapter 1: First Words

[A few years in the past.]

“Yes, that’s it! Perfect!”

A gentle smile played on your lips as you proudly viewed your masterpiece:

It was a simple, but clear “Hey, how are you?”, written in a beautiful font all over your left arm. He won’t be able to miss a sentence written this big, right? And anyway: How else do you start a conversation with the person you’re apparently made for?

But just a second after you regretted your decision, thinking that maybe it was too formal. Why are you so bad with those kind of things? Gosh, you’re not even talking to him in person and you’re already freaking out!

Rubbing your warm face to make the light blush disappear, you threw your body onto the sofa and tried to process everything that went through your mind right now.

All those years, ever since you were born, you’ve never really gotten any sign of your Soulmate. And because of your...well, complete opposite of an easy youth, you weren’t really invested into that matter anyway.

Until now, at least.

The words of a patient, an eldery lady, were somehow burned into your head. She was lying on her dying bed, and you aided her in those last moments. There were so many things to talk about, and she had an exciting life, that much was sure. You always loved sitting at your client’s beds and listening to their stories.

But this time, it was different.

She told you about her Soulmate: A man she failed to love the way she should do. About how much she regretted never having seeked him out, just to find out way too late that he had died a long time ago. About how much she misses him, even though she never met him, laughed with him, cried with him or kissed him. Her having lived in her small world, afraid to be hurt, afraid to trust, and how the only thing she could think about now was what could have been. And that she hopes she’ll get another chance with him - in another life.

Her last words for you were advice and truth, opening your eyes to a certain extend: Never look back. Don’t let your past stop you from finding your own happiness. Live and love every day like it could be your last.

And god, she was right.

But right now, anxiety rose up inside of you. What’s his reason for never having tried to start a conversation? Is he hurt, dead even, like in the story of the old lady? Did you mess up your only chance to spend time with him, even though you’re still so young? Condemned to spend a life of loneliness, just because you’re so hard to trust anyone? No, this can’t be the case. The words glow up a bit after your Soulmate sees them, and you certainly didn’t just imagine that light.

Then why isn’t he answering?

Maybe it was fate as well. The fact that at the very moment you would direct your first words at him, Bucky wasn’t in cryostasis.

The Winter Soldier was on his way to duty at that rainy night, in a country you’ll hopefully never visit. A simple mission: Taking out a single, unaimed target, steal their valuable data and then disappear again.

He had dragged the said man over the cement, after having shot the tires of his car. Much to his misfortune, the impact of him crushing through the windscreen and hitting the street didn’t kill him immediately, so there was a much more painful death to be expected.

There he was now, with Bucky crouching over the lifeless body, whose headbone he crushed in with his bare fists. Preparing to erase any trace of him to make it seem like a usual car-accident, he got ready for his journey back to this hell. Yet as he reached out for the corpse to place it on it’s initial position, he stopped his movements as he saw letters appear on his prosthetic arm.

“Hey, how are you?”

It just distracted the soldier for a brief moment however, having forgotten about Soulmates entirely. The only thing that mattered was the mission at hand, his purpose - the sole reason for his existence.

He grunted as he tried to wipe the font away, but failed to until you grew impatient and washed it away in the sink. So luckily for you, they didn’t see your writing when he arrived back at HYDRA’s base.

God knows what they’d have done when they realized that his Soulmate is still alive and out there. They’d probably see you as a potentially threat, fearing you making him remember. And then, they’d find out who you are, where you lived - ultimatively making the Winter Soldier kill you with his own hands.

But it wasn’t like that.

Bucky sat on a chair in the dark examination room, staring at the only light source in the room, a small lamp in the corner of the wall. An engineer was fixing a malfunction on his metal arm, and meanwhile the soldier repeated this question in his head, over and over again:

“How are you?”

He didn’t know. Is he even able to have emotions? It felt like he could, a long time ago...

There wasn’t much time to think about it. They realized something was wrong, that he began to have thoughts of his own again, just a spark of curiosity in his eyes enough to make them fear to lose control over their killing-machine.

It was time to erase him once again.

It had been weeks since your first attempt to talk to your Soulmate, and it certainly wasn’t your last one ever since.

This whole time, for every single day, you’d write a small note or message to him, feverishly awaiting his answer.

Sometimes it were simple greetings, other days it you’d leave jokes or the lyrics of a song you liked to enjoy for him. Also reminders like ‘Drink enough water :)’, or what you were doing right now. Questions that asked how he was doing or where he was. You’d be glad about any kind of information about him.

But always the same answer - nothing. Not even the glowing marks appear on your skin anymore, so he isn’t even able to read them. Has something happened to him? Your heart sank to the ground and you felt how colour was leaving your face as you slowly realize this could mean the worst case scenario. How could you even care so much about someone you don’t even know?

“I hope you’re okay” you wrote, trying to pull yourself together. You had promised to keep on, no matter how hard it may be, have you not?

This day had actually started like anyone else: You got up way too late to get ready properly, hushed to work and spend the following eight hours trying to survive this usually stressful Monday.

Your workplace, a hospital in a smaller town of [your country], had been all you ever asked for: A peaceful, stable life without any inconveniences - far, far away from your past. Helping others made the weight of your reappearing nightmares and the steady anxiety bearable. You had found reason to live on, and that’s more you could ask for. Trying to make every single day count, and spread as much love and happiness to people in this already way too harsh and terrible world. Making a difference, if only small. That was your wish.

Sure, outside from your work as a nurse you had a boring, normal life - or at least it appeared to be for anyone else. All of your friendships had been rather shallow, and you prefered staying home by yourself over partying any time. So aside from working, eating and sleeping, you functioned rather than you lived, without spending much though at the future.

“Find my own happiness, she said, huh...” you pondered as you stood in front of the kitchen unit, preparing something easy and quick to eat. “It takes two to do that. So why is he ignoring me?”

Thinking about it, there could be a thousand reasons, even if you try to surpress the thought of him being gone before you had a chance to ever meet him. You let out a heavy breath as you accidentally cut yourself while buried in thought. Maybe you’d go out tonight for a change, to distract yourself from those feelings. Honestly, you didn’t even know him! There was nothing in the world allowing you to be mad at him. Maybe you just started obsessing over something that should never be. Wouldn’t be the first time Soulmates don’t find each other, for god knows why.

Walking towards the window of your home - a small hut in midst of a forrest and a wide, flowery field - you directed a dreamy look at the stars, asking yourself what that supposed ‘Soulmate’ of you is doing right now. Unfortunately, you simply couldn’t know that the soldier was put to sleep for yet another years they’d take away from him.

And like this, days became weeks, weeks turned to months - and eventually, you gave up on that naive dream. You probably were never meant to be united with your Soulmate, most likely fate just didn’t want you to be happy. Life already proved this fact many times before in your life.

Bumping on the floor after loudly putting on some music, one of your favourite songs, you picked up a blue marker. Tears in your eyes clouded your vision as you wrote your last words to him, part of the lyrics:

“Hey you, out there in the cold Getting lonely, getting old Can you feel me?”

The tears run down your cheeks and on your arm, blurring the words that were already unrecognizable due to your shaky hands. Your heart ached, so you fell onto your back, staring at the ceiling and beginning to sing along:

♫ ♪ “Hey you, don't help them to bury the light Don't give in without a fight

[…]

But it was only fantasy The wall was too high As you can see No matter how he tried He could not break free

[…]

Hey you, out there on the road Always doing what you're told Can you help me?” ♪ ♫

Never before you felt so lonely, and as you desperately tried to not reopen old wounds once again, you missed the last part of the song that usually never failed to cheer you up:

♫ ♪ “Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all Together we stand, divided we fall” ♪ ♫

[Part 2]

If you want to get on the taglist feel free to ask! ♡

@bucky-fanfiction @welcome-to-fangirl-hell @blondekel77

Song: Pink Floyd - Hey You

#Come on this song fits too perfect #The lyrics just screams Bucky and Civil War #James Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes #Soulmate #AU #Winter Soldier #White Wolf #Bucky x Reader #Bucky x You #Fem! Reader #Song Fic #Angst #Fluff #Alternate Universe #Fanfic #Chapters

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mooniessuniverse · 6 years

Text

Presentation || Chris Evans

Requested: Nope

Prompt(s) used: ---

Summary: Everybody were asking you about wedding of your coworker which led to the conversation about your celebrity crush, Chris Evans. You decide to explain to them why him in an interview done by Ellen.

Warning(s): my bad humor (I personally love it), brief mentions of break-up and cheating, few swear words

Word count: 2800+

A/N: I don't know what made me write this (okay, I know but that's a talk for another time) and I know I said that writing about real people made me uncomfy but inspiration striked and this came out. Enjoy!

My masterlist || Characters list (aka who I write for)

GIF IS NOT MINE, FOUND ON GOOGLE

You had been in this interview for a while now, answering question mostly related to your upcoming movie project, and then a few questions about your co-worker's wedding that you had attended a few days ago. The interview had been good, mostly calm, but you knew there was a question that Ellen wanted to ask. She just needed to find the right opportunity to ask.

"Did you have a date?” she asked nonchalantly. “I saw that you posted some photos but your boyfriend nowhere in sight.”

You gave her a small smile. “Yes, I had. His name is Aaron and he is the best seven years old gentleman I ever got a chance to met.”

“So, you were kind of babysitting?”

You playfully glared at her. “Only person who was babysitting that day was his mother. We had a lot of fun together and his mom wasn’t really fond of the fact that we ate the wedding cake under the table where we decided to hide from her. We shared our strategies in hide and seek, danced together and let me tell you, that little boy is something else. My ex should learn from him,” you laughed when her expression changed to schock.

She cleared her throat. “You seem better now, I couldn’t help but notice that you looked a bit troubled few weeks back on your social media. This was the reason why?”

You nodded. “Our relationship was complicated, we had a lot differences and we had a hard time to manage to see each other which led to many unnecessary fights and misunderstanding between us. We decided to end things after one event three months ago. But we still talk and are friends so, ugh, that’s it.”

It was hard for your boyfriend to reconcile the fact that you can’t be with him everytime he wants to see you. As a rising star in the movie industry you had to fight for the roles you wanted to play and it needed to lot of practise and a hard work to accomplish it. He was your boyfriend of six years and you both felt as the spark in your relationship burned down a long time ago, that you were together just from the habit.

Maybe that was the reason why you pulled yourself up so quickly after you found out he cheated on you. It was weird but it didn’t mean as much as it would for example a year ago. But you were glad it was like it is because then it would be a lot harder.

“Do you have someone new on your mind, Y/N?” Ellen broke your train of thought, thankfully.

“Not someone with whom would be a relationship realistic, no,” you smirked a bit when you saw how she sat more comfortably in her chair with a child-like smile on her face. You could hear her next words in your head before she even started talking.

“Someone like Chris Evans, your celebrity crush?" Ellen said, earning whistles and cheers from crowd.

You nodded in agreement, straightened your back and gave her and the crowd an overdramatic look.

You pulled out a note book from next to your sofa you put there earlier when you came on stage, continuing your motions even as the audience stared in curiosity. You took a black marker from the table in front of you that you had placed there earlier and put big, goofy clear glasses on, large enough to cover half of your face. Ellen watched you with curious eyes and smirk on her lips as you wiggled your eyebrows at her.

This was either going to be the most embarrassing thing in your life, or the goofiest. Either way, you thought this was funny and you hoped that the crowd and Ellen would think the same.

Then you assumed the best serious face you could, "I am glad you started this topic. As you can see, I expected this and I want to apprise you with my reasons. Let's start here," you opened the note book and revealed a framed picture of the infamous Chris, with hearts decorating the frame. Ellen giggled at the sight and crowd quickly followed suit.

"I have nothing to hide. He is a great, talented guy who can sing," you turned a page and presented a page solely dedicated to the recent play he starred in. Loby Hero was written in perfect cursive, a font that most definitely was not your handwriting and was obviously printed. The crowd cheered.

"Oh boy," Ellen said, not even trying to hide her laughter.

You frowned at her. "Ah, ah! No interrupting during my presentation, Ellen!" you scolded her. She nodded quickly putting a hand up to her mouth to try and hide her infectious giggles, readjusting herself in her seat.

You tried your best to remain unaffected by her contagious laughter, holding your face in a stoic manner as you presented your creation to the audience. You continued, trying hard to ignore the smile tugging at your lips, "He is an incredibly intelligent man," you gestured to the screen behind you where Chris's tweets and gifs appeared, and you made a personal reminder to thank the tech guy who helped you set this up.

Ellen gasped and burst out in laughter, no longer trying to hide behind her hands and clutching her stomach in her seat. "How did you make this happened?" she questioned in disbelief, wiping the tears away from her eyes.

You winked at her, "I compromised a guy from your crew. Your employees aren't as loyal as you thought," you adjusted the dramatically large glasses on your face, pushing them up your nose.

"He might have told me to ask you to not fire him because this was my idea and he thought it was hilarious but who am I to fill peoples wishes, I'm not a genie," you pretended to look into the notes that were very clearly blank and observed her from the corner of your eye. She turned around to look at people from her team and made a, what you guess by laugh from the crowd, threatening and angry face.

"He is also really sweet," you turned your pen around so red pointer shinned on the screen behind you. There was pictures of Chris with his fans, family and such. "Awww" sounded throught the whole room.

"Funny," Photos and gifs of Chris doing dorky things with his co-stars or fans or him alone doing faces appeared behind you. People laughed.

"He can look all innocent and hot at the same time and make you question everything you've ever thought about what men could make you think and feel." That was probably what everybody waited for. There were loud cheers and applause when sinful (okay, maybe not sinful but you definitely thought they were) photohoots of Chris flicked behind you.

You let them enjoy their view before you continued. "He is well known for his boob grab that he does when he laughs." You kept your nose into your fake notes while there came pictures of him laughing and doing his famous boob grabs. A lot of people giggled.

"But maybe, just maybe!" you pointed your index finger at Ellen, "I adore his dog, Dodger," you turned another page on your note book and showed everyone a lot of pictures of Chris's dog Dodger. Photos of him appeared also behind you, turning into a collage "Do it for him!".You earned another loud reaction from the crowd. Ellen looked like she was about to faint from how much she was laughing by now.

"I adore Dodger more and try to hide my true feelings behind tweeting about Chris, which I do way more than I should, so you can imagine how much I want to meet this dog," you looked into viewers of today's show. "But first off, I would have to meet his owner, the dear Chris Evans, also known as the "Dorito man", which he said himself and what I assume is true. Don't worry everyone, I am working on it. And I swear to god, I'll do anything to get to pet that dog."

Maybe this wasn't such a disaster as you thought it would be. People were laughing and Ellen was almost lying on the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. You smiled to yourself and giggled shortly before closing your note book and taking your glasses off. You stood up and bowed before your audience.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen and all the people out there behind television or computer screens, for your attention and that you listened to my presentation about Dodger, the thief of hearts, hidden behind my presentation about Chris Evans who has raw acting talent, who needs more recognition and is surely an absolute sweetheart. But, that's yet to be discovered," you smiled at them brightly and sent them a wink.

Everyone applaused loudly. All these noises and lights made you forget your surroundings for a while and you focused, not on cameras or nervous feeling in your stomach, but on the great energy around you.

After a while, everything calmed down and Ellen was sitting in front of you, wiping tears out of her eyes, "Oh my god, that had to be the best presentation I've ever seen! Now I really want you to meet Chris. The best and the most random thing that would happened tonight would be if he was here, right now, maybe hiding in the crowd, am I right?" she told you and you widened your eyes at her in shock.

The wide smile on your face suddenly disappeared and one of grave embarrasment replaced it. You stared at Ellen with wide eyes which the crowd seemed to enjoy greatly judging by their rambunctious laughter.

You leaned forward in your seat, placing a hand over your heart, "Please, Ellen, tell me that you are just joking because I can't deal with this stress right now, this was a problem for future Y/N, not me."

Ellen began laughing again, "I could be carrying a child, you know how bad the stress would be for it?" you tried to reason with her, giving every excuse you could find. It was lame and desperate but you couldn't help it.

"Are you pregnant?" she fired back with raised eyebrows.

"No, but I could be!" you let yourself be heard as your voice raised an octave higher. "Come on, Ellen, I was supposed to be all cool and funny when I get to meet him, maybe I could write a script for myself with all possible scenarious to be ready and instead of that I am bambling mess and I am making myself even lamer than I already am and you are laughing at me!"

You threw your hands in the air, frustrated with her silence. You were starting to shake. She would never, wouldn't she?

She gave you a knowing look with a smile tugging on her lips and you quickly hid your face behind your palms. This was the day you were going to die. Jesus Christ, why. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Chris Evans on our show!"

And it was there again. The crowd stood up and clapped loudly while Chris Evans stood up from his seat within the crowd, came down the stairs to the stage, to you and Ellen. You watched him through your fingers as he, in all his glory, walked in the middle of so many people like it was nothing. He was smiling fondly, ever so charmingly.

His hair was longer now, coming back to his usual look. His eyes were bright and framed by few wrinkles of laughter. He was wearing a dark blue jeans and black shirt with rolled up sleeves, with a watch around his right wrist.

You were sure that if you stood up you would fall back into the sofa. You were pretty sure you were a completely different shade of red, a red so bright and deep that you resembled a tomato. Your face burned with needles as you watched him with your mouth agape. The lights from above bounced off of his body, providing a golden silhouette around his broad shoulders and his handsome face. He was the epitome of an ancient god.

"Well, thank you," Chris said with a light blush dusting on his cheeks and smug smile on his face.

You stood up quickly, your knees buckling under your weight. He quickly caught you with ease, his hands placed on your ribcage to steady you. You kept your eyes trained on his broad chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"Do you think I will turn into the stone if I look into your eyes?" you asked him quietly, trying not to speak into the microphone that would surely amplify your statement and literally kill you.

You were away from each other at an arm's length. He was still slightly supporting you. You were well aware of his touch and you had to say, it was greatly distracting.

He laughed and got closer to your ear. "Why don't you look up and find it out yourself?" You could hear a grin in his voice.

You spoke up before you could stop yourself. "Jesus Christ, do you lure sailors into your traps with that voice?"

He laughed wholeheartedly and you couldn't help but look up to see with your own eyes how he looks when he is laughing. His blue eyes were closed a bit and he had one corner of his lips higher than the other a little. He was so freaking adorable.

You couldn't help but smile with him. You were blushing a lot and not even make-up could save you now but you didn't really care. You met your idol and he looked pleased by your compliment.

"This is so much better than any lovestory I've ever heard. Look at her, she is so starstruck," Ellen commented, effectively snapping you out of your dreamlike state. You took a tiny step away from Chris, making some space between you and his enchanting eyes.

You stretched out your hand as an invitation for him to shake it. "I am Y/N Y/L/N and I am about to faint," you introduced yourself as he took your hand.

He had still a charming smile on his lips. "I am Chris Evans and it's really nice to met you."

"The pleasure is mine, really," you shook his hand too long. You let go of his warm hand as if it was made from hot iron and gestured to the spot next to yours on the sofa.

After Chris greeted Ellen properly and you three seated, Ellen spoke. "Chris, you once told me that you wanted to meet Y/N a long time ago but never got the right chance."

He sat more comfortably next to you and you widened your eyes when his knee brushed against yours and at the realization of that statement.

Ellen should get a bigger sofa or I am gonna loose my shit, you thought, careful to not accidentally voice your thoughts. You fixed your skirt even though there wasn't anything to fix.

"I thought that only person whose secrets will get out there will be of the beautiful woman next to me but I guess I was wrong." You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

Ellen waved him away. "Chris, Chris, Chris, what a foolish thing of you to think that. I don't do anything half heartedly."

"Yeah, you are right, you are right. And when we are talking about doing things," he turned to you and you looked up at him with your Y/E/C eyes, "Would you go out with me?"

Your mouth hung open. You stared at him in disbelief while the audience was losing their minds. You watched him in the attempt to find out if this was an act and he was doing this just to have fun. But when you saw just sincerity in his eyes, your mouth closed and you gulped.

"Are you serious? Are you sure? Even after you saw that presentation just a few minutes ago?"

He grinned and leaned to you, taking of your goofy glasses. You felt like your cheeks were on fire at this point. "I think it was really creative, funny and it warmed my stone cold heart. And who am I to not give you a chance to meet Dodger. He likes to meet new people and even more those that are just as excited to meet him as he is about meeting them."

Your eyes lingered on his face a little bit longer than you intended. When you didn’t see anything else than flirty smile and sincerity, a wide smile spread across your face. "I think that my answer was obvious the moment you let it out but I will gladly say it out loud - yes, I would and I will if you are one hundred percent sure you are able to spent time with this," you gestured towards yourself and grinned.

"It would be my pleasure."

Beta-read by wonderful @haztory (check her work out, she is an amazing writer!!)

Tag list: @the-right-drug-wrong-time @haztory (if you would like to be tagged in my future work, send me an ask or a message)

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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uris-stanley · 7 years

Text

those words we dare not say

a/n: that’s right, i finally wrote a fucking byeler fic! v sorry that it didn’t come sooner, and v v v sorry that its gonna be shitty. but, anyway, angst ensues!

warnings: slurs, implied abuse

Mike Wheeler is just 6 years old when he first sees it. FAG, marked across his inner elbow in small, black font. He knows what it is thanks to 10 year old Nancy’s dreamy-eyed talk of soulmates and true love. He knows that anything particularly memorable to your soulmate for one reason or another, like a name or a date or a certain phrase, perhaps, becomes tattooed onto your skin. He knows that his Aunt Em allegedly has a paragraph from a Stephen King novel etched across her left foot.

He does not know what this first word means.

He wants to ask his mom, to proudly show how grown up he is to already have a special word. But something about the three letters puts a sick feeling in his stomach. Maybe it’s their stark contrast against his pale, freckled skin, or perhaps the harsh sound they make in his head, cold and grown up and frightening. Or maybe it is the sudden, taunting feeling of adulthood, how a piece of his innocence seemingly slipped away the moment he read it. Whatever the reason, it fills him with a sort of uneasiness that causes him to think telling her would be a bad idea. So instead, he does what any confused 1st grade boy would do. He goes to Nancy.

“Go away, Mike.” She groans as he knocks on her door, the sudden noise making her pink marker slip across the page she was writing on in surprise. Again, he knocks, this time entering the bedroom before she has another chance to yell at him. Quietly, he moves over to her bed and places her rainbow of felt tips on the floor handful by careful handful. Another time he might’ve swiped them messily aside, but not now. Mike sits cross-legged at the foot, and any snarky remark she might’ve had disappears. She can tell from his blank expression that he’s completely serious.

Without a word (though maybe the contrast of the fearful, embarrassed, confused look in his eyes to his otherwise expressionless face is enough), he pulls up the sleeve of his pyjama top, and in his six year old mind he hopes to whatever God is listening that it will have disappeared.

His prayer is ignored.

For a moment, Nancy’s face flickers in almost slow motion from shock, to awe, then back to shock, though perhaps a better word might be disgust, or pain, or something completely different. It’s a sort of emotion a girl like her wouldn’t have been able to define. Maybe it’s fear for him, a fear that she didn’t quite understand and yet is there, prominent and crippling. But whatever it is, two things are for certain; it hurts, and it sticks.

She slaps a hand over her mouth as she gasps, the other pulling Mike’s arm closer, rubbing her thumb gently over the letters to see if they’ll smudge. She looks up at him, and this time she feels somethings so simple; she feels her 10 year old heart breaking at the sight of her little brother, tears welled up in the corners of his eyes that she knows he doesn’t know why they’re there, a look of fear and utter lostness gracing his freckled features. “Whuh-wha-what does it m-mean, Nance?” He shakes out, lip trembling unsteadily. She wants to shrivel up and hide from that look, or maybe lock it up in a box somewhere no one, especially he, will ever find it.

“It…” Her voice cracks and she trails off, unsure. He’s 6. She knows he’ll hear it elsewhere eventually, of course she does. She isn’t stupid. And yet, she doesn’t want to be the one to put that maturity on him and strip away innocent parts of his childhood, the urge to hide it from him as long as possible right there. “It- Fag is a name some nasty people call people who’re gay.” The words spit quickly from her mouth, and she watches as his face dawns in realization. He’s seen the way his mother turn the TV off quickly if it mentions ‘the gays’ when his father is in the room, his tight-lipped expression any time she isn’t fast enough. He remembers the look of disgust on his face and how he’d practically shook in anger the time they’d seen two men - Tom Rogers and Nigel Parks, who’d disappeared just days after Mr Parks and his dad had a “man talk” - holding hands coming out of a restaurant. His eyebrows furrow as he’s silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Am I a f-fag?”

“No. No, you are not a fag. Okay, you might be gay, Mike.” Nancy’s voice lowers at the last word, and she tightly grabs his considerably smaller hands in her own. “But don’t ever let anyone call you a fag or a fairy or anything else, okay? There’s nothing wrong with liking boys. People might think it bad, or disgusting, or sinful, but it’s not. You’re still Mike.”

By now she’s hiccuping on her words, tears threatening to spill, though if he notices he neglects to mention. “Sh-should I tell m-mom?”

Nancy Wheeler, 10 years old and aged so many years in the past 5 minutes, sighs in almost relief. Finally, they’ve reached the simplest part of the conversation. “Yeah, I think you should. Come back when you’re done, okay? I’ll help you cover it up, if you want, yeah?”

Nodding, Mike slips down from the bed and goes towards the door. “And Mike?”

He turns to face her, and she flashes a weak smile. “Don’t tell dad, alright? Promise me.”

“I promise, Nance.” The smile he returns is too big and red for his face, too wrong. It’s no longer the smile of her nerdy baby brother, but the broken one of a scared little boy thrown all too soon into deep, murky waters.

Watching him walk away, Nancy’s suddenly terrified that he’ll never again be as he once was.

When Mike is 9 years old, Dustin Henderson moves to Hawkins. He joins their 4th grade class midway through November, and by Mike’s 10th birthday in late December, the two are best friends along with Lucas Sinclair and Will Byers. In the time passed since his ‘first’ word (which, after going to his mom, he discovered wasn’t after all; his back already was littered with dozens more, mostly repeated slurs of ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’, and had been for months), 20 or so more have appeared along his arm. He only shows a few, less revealing ones when in school, but they’re still all there, harsh and unforgiving.

The day of his birthday sleepover, the first sleepover between the 4 of them, he forgets.

It’s a Saturday, and way too hot to be wearing a sweater, despite it being winter, so he spends the morning down in the basement, wondering why 1pm won’t just hurry up. It arrives eventually, of course, and Lucas gets there first. They’ve not been best friends as long as Mike and Will, but their moms are, and through many evenings at the others house and a few sleepy late night conversations, he knows that Mike covers some of his words in school (he’s never thought to question what exactly they say, though). So when he notices the freckled boys arms are a bit more littered than usual, he doesn’t say a thing. Instead, he goes downstairs to see the Dungeons & Dragons game his older sister bought him. 5 minutes later, and Lonnie Byers pulls up with Will and Dustin, shouting a drunken goodbye before driving away at speeds dangerous for a sober man. Will is clearly uncomfortable, and Karen makes sure to take him home herself in the morning. Again, they don’t mention Mike’s sudden abundance of soul-words (truth be told, they don’t even notice), all 4 quickly enthralled in excited chatter over the new D&D board. In fact, it isn’t until nearly 12 hours later, when they finally start settling down into their sleeping bags (not to sleep, of course. They’re adamant that they’ll pull an all nighter), that Dustin cries out in astonishment.

“Oh my god! Mike! You’re arm!” He whisper shouts, pointing in surprise at Mike’s arm. All of a sudden, the world seems to draw to a halt, and said boy remembers that every single word on his skin is uncovered. He feels naked and exposed under Dustin’s gaze, his mind completely abandoning ship. Luckily, Lucas slaps Dustin’s hand away.

“He covers some of them in school, duh. Would you around with your arm looking like that? No offense, Mike.” The curly haired boy shrugs, before turning his attention back to Mike. “What do they say?”

This, unfortunately, seems to interest Lucas. He’s never once openly questioned what the boy was hiding (he’s wondered in his head, of course. He feels like he’d be a bad friend not to), but now that someone else feels the same way, he’s never wanted a question answered more.

“Yeah Mike,” he says, as Mike desperately tries to shrink into himself “what do they say?”

This time it’s Will, mostly silent through this whole ordeal, who jumps to Mike’s defence. “Guys. Cut it out.” He says, his quiet voice a warning. Go ahead, it seems to coo to them, ask him again. Go on. Push. Bet you wanna, sure you do. Push him. See who’s gonna stop ya. Not me, surely not, not little Will. The thought of Will saying it is absurd; never in a million years would he ever act that way. But the voice edges them on in their heads, daring them, completely unsettling, so they stay quiet. The silence that follows is more than half awkward, and everyone’s relieved when Dustin farts, setting them off into hysterics. Nobody mentions Mike’s marks again.

—

It’s 3am when Lucas and Dustin eventually pass out, the bigger boy flooped haphazardly across the sofa whilst the other snores softly, incoherent murmurs every now and again (“War stories.” His mom told him once. “You’re talking about your daddy’s war stories.” He never remembers). Mike himself is quite ready to sleep, his eyes heavy and head fuzzy. But he can see Will’s eyes open wide and alert, even in the pitch darkness. He tries to sleep, knowing - hoping - that Will’ll drop off any minute now. He speaks anyway, something inside of him insisting that he must.

“They’re slurs.” He whispers so as to not wake the other two boys. Part of him hopes he doesn’t hear.

Will turns himself to the side so he’s fully facing Mike and sits up slightly. Somehow he manages to lock eyes with him. “What?”

Mike stutters. “My muh-marks that I h-hide. They’re g-g-g-gay slurs.” He wonders why in the hell he thought this was a good idea at 3am, in total darkness, to the one person who didn’t even want to know, and yet it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his chest as he says it. Like for the first time in 3 years, he can breathe again.

“That’s okay.” He thinks he hears a smile in Will’s voice, though it’s too dark to tell (it crosses his mind that it had also been to dark to see his eyes. He tries not to think about that).

“You know that means I’m a q-q-q-” the word trips and rolls about his mouth, and his face begins to go red with effort.

“Mike,” Will cuts him off, shuffling forward in their already close quarters, till he’s practically sitting in his lap (he doesn’t exactly hate it. Mike tries not to think about that either) “I know. It’s okay.”

Mike doesn’t think it’s completely okay, doesn’t think he ever will. But he looks into Will’s eyes (even this close, he probably shouldn’t be able to see the deep brown of them, and he definitely shouldn’t want to lose himself in them), and there’s something there that makes him believe that he’s right, that it is okay.

There’s something in them that makes him feel safe.

They sit there for awhile, Will’s head on Mike’s shoulder, Mike’s head racing with questions, the silence that blankets them comfortable.

“D’you got any?” He whispers. Will nods, but there’s hesitance in the movement. “You don’t gotta tell me, y’know, right?” He can practically feel the relief wash over the smaller boy, and he smiles.

“Thanks.” His voice is only a squeak, but Mike can sense the gratitude in his tone. They sit awhile longer (maybe it’s 10 minutes, maybe it’s an hour, neither can tell), until Will nestles down and falls asleep. Mike looks down, smiling softly, and lies down too.

His stomach is full of butterflies, and his skin is covered in goosebumps despite the hot blush that is spread across his face. He tries not to think about it.

IIV

He’s 12 when everything finally - finally - starts falling into place.

He may not be good at rationally expressing his emotions (he is, after all, a 7th grade nerd), but he knows that Will is probably, most likely, almost certainly his soulmate. He knows that Lonnie Byers was an absolute dick of a father, and that the harsh bruises Will’d been sporting more frequently in the few months before his dad’s first departure weren’t from falling down the stairs (for starters, the Byers lived in a bungalow), or brotherly wrestling matches with Jonathan, or any of the other bullshit excuses he’d made. He also knows that Joyce herself had taken a harsh beating the night she’d eventually kicked the drunken man out for the first (but not last) time; Lonnie, still drunk and even more disorderly, had almost kicked the Wheeler’s door in just before he drove out of town, yelling slurred words down to the basement where Mike and Will had their sleeping bags set up. “Tell your bitch of a mother that, that she deserved all of it, you f-f-fucking queer!” His shouts, drenched in alcohol, had been loud and terrifying. “Rot, rot in hell, the lot of y-you! See what the fuck I care!” Ted had eventually managed to make him leave with the threat of calling the cops, and moments later the sound of tyres spinning on tarmac echoed through the street. Downstairs, Mike had faintly heard his mom telling Nancy and Barb to go back to bed, but he’d been too busy hugging Will’s shaking body to notice her stood on the basement steps.

He knows all of this, and he’s so, so sure it’s Will (He’s never coming back is scrawled around his left ankle, for God sake).

But then Will disappears, and they find Eleven, and suddenly the puzzle pieces don’t fit.

He likes El - like likes her. She’s pretty, and a total badass, and he feels something towards her that he’s never felt towards another girl before. He’d been positive he was gay, the fact that he’d only ever feelings for Will. But he likes El, he’s sure of it. Still, doubts flow through his mind. Maybe he only thinks he likes her because she’s the key to getting Will back, or maybe it’s her buzzed scalp and boyish appearance (he doesn’t dwell on the latter for too long however, feeling as though it disrespects and mocks her past). When he kisses her, however, he’s sure of one thing; he does like her, and he thinks he could maybe one day love her. The gay slurs are still on his skin (El only has 011, though somehow he knows from the beginning that it’s a legitimate tattoo).

And then, of course, she disappears.

A strange wave of déjà vu washes over him, the screaming after El dissipates before their very eyes, the shaking as Lucas and Dustin drag him out with silent tears streaming down their cheeks, the sobbing when his mom hugs his fragile form and gently rocks him. In the hospital waiting room he mourns in silence, wondering what would’ve happened if he’d just grabbed her arm…

When he hugs Will, sparks shoot through his skin, his stomach turning to butterflies, and god fucking damn is he relieved that Will’s alive, he doesn’t know what he’d have done if he wasn’t. But now he’s too plagued with horrible thoughts to look at him any other way than a friend. He pushes away any vulnerability he feels when Will gives him a soft look, and he starts to reconsider everything; he begins to think he’s been piecing the puzzle together wrong all along.

December 17th 1985 is the night of their 9th grade Winter Formal. They’re together, all 6 of them (Max included), clad in matching baby blue. El’s been back - back back, living with Hopper - for a year now. Will hasn’t had a flashback for a little over 5 months, hasn’t had a Doctor’s Appointment in 11. Billy hasn’t been around for God knows how long, and Max is the happiest she’s ever been. Nancy and Steve (and Jonathan, but that’s not something they talk about) are visiting from NYU. Everything is perfect as can be.

…and yet.

Mike doesn’t want to say he feels nothing when he kisses El, or holds her hand, or looks down at her smiling face as they dance together. He does feel something, he knows he does. But whatever spark they once had is duller now. Things changed from 1983, and though he still loves her, in a way, he knows they can’t work for much longer, and he’s okay with that.

One thing that hasn’t changed, however, and one thing he’s not completely okay with, is Will.

Will, with his smooth skin and fluffy hair. Will, whose eyes he wants to get lost in and who’s smile is the most goddamn beautiful thing Mike Wheeler has ever seen. Will, whose smile he would really like to kiss…

No, he’s not okay with that.

He felt something with Eleven. It’s not there anymore, but once upon a time it was, and it was real. So obviously, he likes girls. Simple. And then, when he looks to Will, it’s not so simple. Because everything he once felt towards El, the butterflies, the happiness, the protectiveness, the almost-but-not-quite love, all of it (and so much more), it’s all there with Will.

He really hates feelings.

It’s December 17th, 1985, the night of their 9th grade Winter Formal. Mike dances with El close to his chest, trying to will the spark back. Every now and then, he looks over to where Lucas, Max, Dustin and Will are stood laughing, and his stomach does backflips seeing the younger boy looking so content. He hates himself for wishing it was him he was dancing with.

—

Sometime over that Christmas break, Mike walks in on Nancy and Steve.

It isn’t anything particularly R rated, just some making out, nothing he hasn’t done with El. He knew it’d happen eventually, anyway. There’s only so many places for them to be in a cramped house in the holidays. No, the surprising part is that Jonathan Byers is right there with them.

As soon as he drops his radio with a thud in shock, the three spring apart like a pair (trio) of deer caught in headlights, and when Nancy opens her mouth to speak, Mike just runs. He doesn’t exactly know why his eyes sting with tears, or why he heads straight for the backdoor, but before he can reach his bike he bends over and throws up right there on the grass. The smell is putrid, and he goes on retching long after his stomach is empty. In fact, he only stops when a hand starts to gently rub his back. “Hey bud, c’mon, you’re okay Mike, calm down, breathe.” It’s Steve. There’s a little panic in his tone, and Mike tries to tell him that he is calm, and he’s breathing quite fine, thank you very much, but when he goes to speak he notices the tears streaming down his face and the laboured wheezing of his lungs, and he thinks that maybe Steve’s panic is warranted. Eventually, he manages to get his breathing working normally, so he slides down against the house, exhausted. The older boy sits too. For awhile, they sit in silence, the only sound being their breathing and Last Christmas playing a few doors down.

“Well,” Steve begins, uncertain “we definitely never thought that would be your reaction. Props for originality, I guess.” Mike feels sick to the stomach, though this not in a literal sense. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I don’t disapprove or anything.” He keeps his eyes shut, cold December air nipping at his cheeks. Beside him, there’s a quiet chuckle. “Really. I think the spew on the floor says otherwise.” “That’s not-” his voice cracks, and he can feel the smile drop from Steve’s face. “That’s not w-why. I understand the three of you being in love.” He doesn’t second guess his word choice for a second. He’s seen the way Nancy looks at Steve, and he knows his sister well enough to know that she wouldn’t share that with someone she only liked. “But… it’s just, seeing you and Jonathan, two guys, together, and then with a girl… it, I dunno, it made me face some things I’ve been tryna ignore, and I got scared.” His eyes are open by now, so he can see the older boy nod his head. “Talk to me, then.” He all but whispers, voice gentle. “I’m no Nancy, but I think I’ve proven pretty good at these sorta things in the past. Plus, it wasn’t too long ago that I was just as confused and terrified as you are.” Mike sits silently, hesitant to speak in case he says too much or Steve calls him crazy. He’s so caught up in his thoughts, in fact, that he doesn’t notice when he begins to empty out the entirety of his soul. He tells about going to Nancy with that ‘first’ word. He tells about his confession to Will, how he’d felt so much better afterwards. He tells about how he’d been so sure Will was his soulmate until he met Eleven. Every thought and feeling that’s plagued him for the past 10 years, he tells about. And Steve sits, listening intently, his eyes brightening or his lips twitching upwards every now and again. When Mike finishes rambling (and when he’s eventually caught his breath), he nods. “Yup, you’re bi.” Mike stutters. “B-b-bi?” “Uhuh,” another nod from Steve “bisexual. I mean, I can’t tell you who you are and who you aren’t, obviously, but from what you’ve told me I’m pretty sure you’re bi.” Mike’s head spins. He barely manages to catch anything Steve says, the pounding of his heart deafening. “What does b-b-bi m-mean?” He questions. Something tells him he’s almost there, though where that is or how he knows is a mystery. “Bi is when you like girls and guys.” Steve says it so simply, as if it were perfectly natural, and despite everything he’s been told, despite the threatening looks his father gives gay people, despite the clear and obnoxious separation between ‘the sinners’ and everyone else. Despite all of this, Mike finds it makes perfect sense. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to speak, and ends up bursting into tears. Steve, visibly panicked, puts an arm round the younger boy, but he’s smiling so damn wide as he sobs. Because finally, after 9 years of pain and confusion, he’s finally found himself.

V Will Byers heads off to UCLA on September 1st, 1989. His acceptance to the college had been celebrated by everyone (Joyce had cried more than a little), and the day had been eagerly awaited.

Now, the day before, Mike Wheeler is lay in his bed, in the dark, not keen on moving.

He hasn’t been as close with Will over the past years, mainly due to pushing him away, and whilst of course he’d been thrilled for him getting into UCLA, he had been avoiding him for awhile now. For reasons he still tries to ignore.

*knock* “Go away, Nancy!” He yells, groaning and rolling towards the wall as light from the hallway floods the room.

“I’m not Nancy.” It’s Jonathan, and for a minute Mike panics; the two aren’t as close as he is with Steve, so if Jon was here to talk when Mike clearly didn’t want to then either Nancy or Will was in trouble and if they’re in trouble that meant they were probably in danger and danger could easily mean death and Nancy or Will could be dead. “-ike! Are you there?” Mike looks up, abandoning his rambling thoughts, and sees a worried Jonathan. “IsNancyorWilldead?” He shoots out quickly. The older boy shakes his head. “What? No, they’re not dead.” He smiles, and Mike instantly relaxes. “I’m asking why you’re not going to see Will?” Once again, panic, though this time the feeling is more repressed, and at the same time more nerve-wracking. “I-I…” he stutters pathetically. Jonathan’s hard stare isn’t helping. “I cuh-can’t s-se-see him. Because then the f-f-fact that I’m g-gonna be away f-f-from him f-for a year is ruh-real.” “So?” His sister’s boyfriend shrugs. “You’re not gonna see Dustin or Lucas or anyone else for a year. So what? What’s the difference?” And that throws Mike off, because he knows what’s different about Will, of course he does, Jonathan probably knows too. But the thought of actually saying it aloud, the prospect of setting those words free, is rather quite a terrifying one. “Will’s different. I luh-l-luh-” Nice to meet you, Mike! I’m Will Byers! “luh-luh-” Mike. I know. It’s okay. “luh-luh-” The roll. It was a seven. The demogorgon. It got me. “luh-luh-luh-” Yeah, crazy together. “luh-” I’m not leaving you, Mike. None of us are. You’re gonna be okay. “luh-luh-” This is Trevor. My boyfriend. “GODDAMMIT I LOVE HIM!” For a while the only sound is Mike’s ragged breathing as he tries desperately not to cry. I love him. At some point, Jonathan stands to leave. At the door, he stops. “They broke up, you know. Trevor and Will. So don’t you break my brother’s heart again.” The now shaking boy doesn’t, can’t look up, but he can still see the sadness on his face. Eventually, Jonathan goes. Mike is alone once again in the unforgiving darkness. — Hawkins at night is rather pretty. That’s what Michael Wheeler thinks as he drives along Mirkwood at 11pm. He’s been out at this time and later a bunch, of course, but he’s never been in a good enough frame of mind to notice.

Now, his mind is the last place he wants to be.

In there it’s a mess of fires and alarm bells and destruction as he goes over every possible scenario: Will will take him, he’ll tell him to fuck off, he won’t have broken up with Trevor after all, he won’t be alone, he won’t even be there. The last thought worries him the most, because it’s been almost 6 years since Will disappeared and none of them need to deal with any of that shit ever again. He knows, deep down, that it’s irrational. It’s been 6 years since Will disappeared, after all.

The place he’s heading to is one the 6 of them discovered sometime in the Summer of ‘86, a little clearing surrounded by trees and overlooking the lights of the town. It’d felt special, somehow, and was easy to get to by car, so it had become Theirs. Mike knows that, if Will was going to be anywhere, this was it.

Still, relief washes over him when he sees the battered ‘78 Fairmont peering down over Hawkins, and Will’s pale figure perched on the bonnet.

The small boy turns round in confusion at the sound of gravel crunching, ready to apologise to an office and speedily drive away, but he smiles lazily when he sees Mike. Not breaking the silence, the two sit together; not side by side, but close enough so that their feet knock every now and again and so, hands on the car and keeping them upright, their pinkies can just barely brush.

“It’s beautiful at this time,” Will sighs, still looking onwards “you can’t see the ugliness in the dark.” Mike knows what he means; the homophobia and the racism and the bullying, the constant pressure to do better, to be something other than yourself, something that conforms to society’s idea of perfect. But he also knows that there’s ugliness only Will and El and the many children, some alive and some dead but all forgotten, could ever fully understand, the ugliness that once upon a time ago tried to seep through; an ugliness that almost destroyed Will; and ugliness with enough power to kill them all. He isn’t sure which he’s talking about (he’s not sure it matters), and the quiet continues.

Eventually, Will turns to face him. He looks as though he’s been crying. “Why are you here, Mike?” He says, tired. Mike doesn’t know how to answer; he knows exactly why, but he’s scared he’ll frighten Will away for good. “For you.” They’re the only words he can say. He knows they can’t be enough. Will smiles a little - it doesn’t look right. Broken, almost. “And I’ve been here 8 years. 8 years of waiting, of getting my heart broken. Do you know,” his voice breaks, and a few tears spill down his cheeks “how much it hurt when I got back from that place and found you with your heart set on El?” Mike hates knowing the pain on his face is his fault. “Why now, Mike? Just when everything starts to look up, why do this now?” And he’s took scared to admit that he was scared and confused and young, because it doesn’t feel like a good excuse at all, more like a piss poor attempt of one. Maybe Will’s right, maybe he should just let it go, move on. Not all soulmates are destined to be lovers, after all.

But Mike remembers Jonathan telling him not to break Will’s heart again, and he knows: walking away will do exactly that. He won’t let Will suffer any more because of him.

“I’m here now because I’ve grown. I’ve changed. I’ve learned. I fucked up so bad, but I promise you I’ve grown. Truth is, Will, I kinda always knew I had feelings for you. I read the signs, hell I prayed to those signs like the holy bible and I was ready to admit it. That night you disappeared I was ready to confess. But then everything happened and I was sure I liked El, I know I did, and 12 year old me figured you could only like girls or guys.” A crude chuckle escapes Mike’s mouth. His tongue is sandpaper, his throat a long, dry tube of words waiting to be said. Words that terrify him. “It only clicked at 15 that I could like both. I’ve not got any excuse for these past 3 years, I know. I was just… scared. Of hurting El. Of losing you.” He looks up from his spot of dirt to Will’s face. Tears are running silently down his face, chapped lips parted in wonder, conflict brewing behind his chocolate brown eyes.

“I won’t fucking lose you, Will.”

And suddenly they’re kissing. It’s tender, and far from perfect, but it’s passionate. Their lips, slowly moving together in harmony, radiate nothing but longing and passion and love, so much love. Mike can barely breathe, for more reasons than one. Both boys feel galaxies a million years away spark to life. Their hearts beat frantically and yet in unison. Neither want it to end. Both know that eventually it must. Pulling away, Mike sees a fond sparkle in Will’s eyes; he sees small droplets of sweat on his forehead that for the first time in years aren’t the product of fear; he sees a blush of colour radiating from his skin that disappeared at 12 and never really came back. He sees bliss contentedness.

Not perfect, no, but simply knowing that he could make Will feel so utterly happy is good enough for Mike. — It’s 2am when the boys know it’s time to leave. And they both know that if they don’t speak now, they may never get another chance.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Mike’s voice is a surprise to the both of them. “It was my first day of kindergarten. I was so scared, so fucking alone, and there you were, on that swingset everyone loved so much, alone too. I asked you to be my friend. And you said yes.” “You’ve told me this before, I think.” Will intervenes. “Best thing you’ve ever done.” He laughs lightly, but Mikes face is so serious. “I meant it when I said it at 13 and I mean it when I say it now. That was the best. Thing. I. Have ever. Fucking. Done.” His voice is genuine, and Will melts a little. The silence resumes itself for some time longer.

“You must love making my life harder, Wheeler.” Will eventually prods in a teasing manner head lay on the taller boy’s shoulder. “I swear it’s not intentional.” Mike says. “You don’t exactly make mine any easier.” The two chuckle before falling comfortably into silence. After a while, a sigh escapes Will. “Y’know I can’t give up UCLA for you Mike. I don’t wanna throw any chance of their being an us but I’ve worked too hard for this and-” Mike grabs his hand in an effort to calm and reassure him. “Will. I’m not asking you to give up your dream. I’m not so selfish. And I’m not expecting you to even give me a chance, because I don’t deserve it. But no matter what,” he gently rubs his thumb over Will’s palm, looking him in the eyes, their faces but a kissing distance apart “I’m not gonna leave you, ever. I’d wait forever and a day for you. I will. I’ll wait here for you, because I love you so fucking much. Even when your off married and have forgotten all about me, I’m gonna live you, Will Byers.”

Will smiles. “I fucking love you too, nerd.”

And that’s when Mike’s heart explodes. He stops in silence, too joyful to speak, a smile slowly working itself across his face. “HEAR THAT, WORLD?” He screams, jumping up, his words full of happiness as they float down to the town below. “WILL BYERS LOVES ME! WILL FUCKING BYERS LOVES ME!” Will laughs beside him, tugging on his arm and telling him to shut up. Birds evacuate their trees at the sudden noise, hundreds of pairs of wings flapping overhead. Eventually, Mike does quiet down, but the huge, lovestruck grin is still plastered across his face. “You fucking love me.” He whispers almost carefully, like the very words could shatter at any moment. “Yeah,” Will leans his head on Mike’s shoulder, smiling. “I do”

Somewhere down in the twinkling lights of Hawkins, a song plays loud enough so that the notes travel up to them. It’s Cherish by The Association, and Will huns softly along. Mike traces the appearing set of words on the smaller boy’s arm, his heart lurching into his throat, and for the first time in such a long time everything feels okay. It feels like home.

Will fucking Byers loves me.

#stranger things #byeler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler #st #stranger things fanfics #my writing #bi boy :)#i love my dead gay son #crazy together #stranger things season 2 #stranger things 2 #st2 #stranger things season two

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ohthathurt · 6 years

Note

Hey babe , for the prompt thing how about " Seduce Liam with love notes so Zayn stop pining" ?

Hope I did this justice babe xx

We follow a chilly winter’s morning, the atmosphere wasstill buzzing with the week-past New Year’s Eve celebrations as hopefulresolution-keepers bounded back and forth with promises of activity.

The scene is modern-time New York, the streets covered inwhite, slippery ice; cars grounded and parked under heaps of settled snow,people trudging through inches of ice in sturdy boots and water-proof pants. Alonesome coffee shop stands tucked into the corner of a brownstone, its whiteand red shop sign glistening with ice under the faint sunlight.

The four members of the shop’s founding crew were dashingabout busily, their coffee concoctions and warm pastries a hit with theholiday-exhausted crowd. Customers were ducking into the warmth of the shop,just to escape the bite of the snow-chilled air, only to be comforted by theintoxicating scent of brewing coffee and fresh baked goods.

The marble counter span an entire side of the shop; it was aglass-covered counter at the end where all their pastries, breads, pies, cakes,cheesecakes, croissants and buttery, sticky varieties of baklava.

The busy lines were branching out from the middle of thecounter, where a loud, mouthy man with piercing blue eyes and a Yorkshireaccent, stood accepting money and shouting out orders.

Behind him, a blond man with an infectious grin was boundingback and forth from the espresso machine and the syrup station, deftlyswitching coffee cups around with nimble, seasoned fingers.

Another man came out from behind the hidden door in thecorner of the shop, where the baked goods were kept, with a proud, dimpledsmile and a tray full of hot biscuits.

And right at the back of the shop, far away from the crowdsand his manically busy friends, sat a quiet but observant man, who looked likehe wanted to be elsewhere, like he wanted to escape into his mind.

His name was Zayn, a boy who had once come to New York as avery young 19 year-old with his three other friends, looking to write out hisdreams. This was a boy who had failed miserably at achieving his dreams, enoughto fall on hard times. The solution was soon decided simple: get a loan andopen a coffee shop, supplying the one thing New Yorkers could survive anapocalypse with.

It had worked, tremendously so, and while Louis, Harry andNiall had been ecstatic at the success of their conjoined business, Zayn hadstill felt an ache of regret.

Currently, he sat doodling idly on a napkin, which belongedto their shop, the name ‘Just Brew It’ etched in a cursive brown font overwhite. Niall had been the one to come up with the name, claiming Shia LaBeoufas inspiration.

Back at the end of the line was stood a frazzled and verylate Liam Payne. Usually, he couldn’t give a rat’s arse about being early, hisPA gracious enough to handle any problems before he lazily popped in at 11am.But today was different. He was supposed to be at a meeting with an importantclient, the sort who’d happily invest millions of dollars into Liam’s companyif he was buttered just the right way.

But he needed to be charming, and in order to be charming,he needed coffee. Desperately.

And that is why he was stood on a Tuesday morning, detestingthe loud crowds around him who were enjoying the cold in a coffee shop thatlooked ordinary enough. But, it was the closest to his office right now andLiam didn’t want to risk a 10 minute drive to his favourite coffee place withthe risk of getting stuck in traffic.

A child was crying loudly next to him, sat on a chair besidea stressed-looking mum and Liam was sure he going to join the crying child soonif he didn’t get his caffeine fix.

He loosened his tie, before changing his mind and doing itup again, he can’t look even a tiny bit off, he was dressed to impress. He scannedthe large interior of the shop, eyes roving casually over the baristas and atall man who was holding a tray of what looked like biscuits.

Liam froze to a stop, as his eyes locked onto the silhouetteof a young man. He couldn’t see much of the man; his head full of shock blackhair was ducked down, arms littered in numerous tattoos, shown off by ashort-sleeved work tee. A light scruff on his jaw was all Liam could make ofhis face until –

His breath was taken away, quite literally, when the man,the boy, looked up to face hiscoworker who came over to him. And when the boy smiled, a sweet and serenething, beautifully glinting eyes crinkling up and a perfectly angled nose thatheld a hint of scrunch, Liam’s jaw weakened and he feared he was about to startdrooling.

The boy’s face was enough to stir something up inside ofLiam, something that had been silenced a long time ago, an urge to possess, anurge to ruin but in the mostdelicious way possible.

God, was heactually stood here in a coffee shop lusting after a random barista? He fannedhimself with his suit jacket inconspicuously, looking around to make sure noone saw that.

He edged slowly up the line, people in front of him leavingone by one, but he kept his eyes trained on the boy, he couldn’t help himself.Seconds turned into minutes and yet Liam still couldn’t take his eyes off him.

***

“Zaynie!” Niall rushed up to him as he was doodling still,and he looked up at his friend, gracing him with a small smile. Niall’sliveliness was always infectious, his cackling laughter some of the best noisesZayn has ever heard.

“What’s up?”

“Louis wants to know why you’re brooding again.” Niallstated bluntly, head tilting backwards where Louis was pretending not tolisten.

With a huff, Zayn replied, “I’m not brooding – no, honestlyI’m not.” He emphasized as his friendlooked doubtful.

“Just, I feel like there’s nothing to look forward to thisyear. I dunno, is this what seasonal depression feels like?”

Louis, who had given up all pretense of not listening, cameover and tapped Niall on the shoulder to let him take over the orders. Hisperceived stare bore through Zayn, the latter of whom squirmed uncomfortablyunder the scrutiny.

“Listen, mate, how about we use that money we saved and getyou to – “

Zayn hastily replied with a resounding no, that money was for when it all went balls up, and he wasn’tgoing to waste it just because he felt homesick or bored.

“Oi, Louis! Here’s a Midlander for ya!” Niall called outfrom his position at the cash register, a wide grin threatening to split hisface as he chatted merrily with a customer.

Louis turned around with a confused expression, “What, issomeone cosplaying again?”

Zayn snorted and got up from his seat, determined to end theuncomfortably deep conversation he was having with Louis. He walked towardsNiall with a smile, “Nah, it just means the person is from –“

But the rest of his sentence never made it out of his throatbecause apparently someone ran away with his tongue. Someone who looked a lot like the man standing in front of him;regarding Zayn with calculating yet warm brown eyes.

Zayn took a few seconds to take him in, he seemed to beolder than him, late 30s maybe? He hadthose aforementioned gentle brown eyes, an adorably appropriate button nose andlips that were made to sin.

How were they so red? –

A loud clearing of the throat snapped him out of his reverieand he winced and realized he had been staring at the customer’s lips. Hischeeks flushed heavily and he ducked down behind Niall who was turningviolently purple from holding in his laughter. The dick.

A deep voice brought his attention back to the man who onlyamusedly murmured, “That’s Outlander, actually,” in a familiar yet foreignaccent. He was English and his accent was maybe close to where Louis and Zaynoriginated from, but it had a slight tang of New York phasing out of it.

So, he was someone who has lived here long, Zayn thoughtabsently as he kept his eyes trained on the cup in front of him, uncapping amarker before looking up at the man again.

“Your name?” He rasped out, clearing his throat andhopefully his thoughts of anything too inappropriate.

…Is what you’ll shoutwhen I finally get you under me, Liam thought, before mentally giving hisbrain a slap. He was here for coffee not to pick a barista up.

“Liam,” he assuredly stated, a bit of his lost confidence inthe face of beauty (literally)returning to his demeanour.

He was confident and assertive in the way he uttered his name, and Liamwas a name Zayn felt he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. He blushed lightly at hisown thoughts and got to work quickly, unknowingly tugging at the heart stringsof a man who thought that love was lost to him.

***

Right, so Zayn was definitely, properly, gone for Liam. Everything about the man endeared and sethim on fire simultaneously. Those eyes as they crinkled up in a rare laugh atsomething Zayn said, that cute button nose that always takes the time to sniffat Harry’s baked goods appreciatively, and those lips that curve perfectlyaround his name.

Liam had been coming round to the coffee shop for over amonth now and with the weather slowly warming up and Valentine’s Day fastapproaching, Zayn was adamant to date Liam.

He’s got this coffee coloured birthmark that he feels is somesort of fated clue; Liam was always dressed professionally and ratherdeliciously in suits with perfectly knotted ties. Zayn’s favourite was the greycheck-patterned suit paired with a white shirt and a pink silk pocket square.

Liam had been going to a charity gala wearing that suit,he’d informed Zayn , as he stood idly in front of the marble counter, on a lessbusy evening while Zayn waited for the espresso to brew.

Zayn remembered he could hardly keep his eyes off the man, hishair shorn down to a buzzcut with the slightest hint of silver around histemples. But he was soon caught, as amused brown eyes met his as Zayn finallyfinished doing a body scan on Liam.

The boy had blushed intensely before turning his back onLiam, pretending to keep busy with the espresso, even though he had to do nothing;the machine was doing all the work.

A slight chuckle was all he heard before the machine drippedthe dark brown liquid down into the waiting shot glass. A few minutes later, hefinished preparing the man’s drink and handed it over to him with a smallsmile.

“Thank you,” was all Liam murmured to him before he wasgraced with a wink and the man soon left after.

And that isexactly why Zayn is confused; Liam seems to show interest in the way he regardsZayn, the way his stare makes the boy’s cheeks flame, the little flirty momentsand smirks Liam throws his way.

A month of flirtyconversations and suggestive looks and yet not even an invitation to a drink?

Yeah, he was confused.

So he did what any person in a confusing situation might do,he turned to his friends. But as he filled his three friends in on histroubles, three very sly, almost Cheshire cat-like grins awaited him. He couldpractically see Louis rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

What the fuck did hejust get himself into?

***

Harry opted to help him out first, which was rather helpfulof his friend, Zayn thought, but all that ground to a halt when he heard hisfriend’s idea.

“A love note?”Zayn all but exclaimed incredulously as he lounged on their shared couch in thelittle apartment they shared not a long way away from the shop.

Harry who was currently perched on Louis’ lap (“My baby may have outgrown me, but he’s stillmy baby!”) nodded enthusiastically at him, jostling his boyfriend’s grip onhis beer bottle.

“Watch it!”

Harry only frowned down at Louis before turning back toZayn, ignoring his boyfriend’s irritated huff.

“Trust me, Liam’s gonna love it and he’s going to be beggingto know who it’s from!”

Zayn sighed quietly, mulling over the proposed idea.

The television blared loudly as Niall sat on the carpetedfloor in front of it, staring unblinkingly at Tiger Woods moving around on agolf course. Louis looked like he was close to dozing off, his head alreadyleaning against Harry’s shoulder and his beer bottle now lying empty on thefloor.

Great, so thosetwo were no help.

He remained unconvinced by the idea of an unsigned love notefor Liam but Harry’s dimples deepened invitingly and those trustworthy, greeneyes finally groaned an agreement out of him.

God help him.

The next morning, Harry was acting like someone hadwillingly handed a baby over to him and named him Mick; he was dashing about,throwing smug grins at Zayn who only rolled his eyes at the impish behaviour.

When Zayn had asked him that morning, before the doors tothe shop were opened, what he had written in the love note, Harry had onlyshaken his head in a scolding manner before ordering him to start the service.

Soon, Liam was stood in front of the cash register, orderinghis usual coffee to-go, grinning at Louis as they made small talk. Zayn wastucked in the shadows at the end of the shop, keeping an eye on Harry as he boundedup to Liam with a pastry package. He shoved it at a perplexed Liam beforerather loudly proclaiming, “From a secret admirer!”

Zayn groaned internally and hid his head in his hands, trustMr. “I’m a baker!” to want to seduce a man with a baked pastry. When he lookedback up, Liam was stood a little way down the marble counter to the side wherethere were no customers. He was preoccupied with the pastry bag, those adorablebushy eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he pulled out a card. His eyes roveover the card before he pursed his lips in an odd expression.

Oh wow, this was Liam trying to hold in his laughter.

Wait –

He was laughing atthe card, oh God, what did Harry do?

Mind made up, he casually strolled past the cash register,pretending to straighten up the syrup station before he noticed Liam.

“Oh! Liam, didn’t see you there, mate. What’s that you’vegot?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, although going by Louis’ scoff hemay have come across as too eager.

But the man didn’t mind sharing the ridiculous card, a largegrin gracing his usually subdued features. He flipped the card towards Zayn andheld it up. The boy took a look; it was a pink and white Valentine’s card witha smiling cartooned hammer and a nail looking at each other. The caption said:“I want to nail you! Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Zayn paled considerably as Liam took his expression ashorrified judgment and laughed loudly.

“This is properly hilarious, and kind of unnecessary.” Liamsaid, casually looking up at Zayn but his attention still on the god-awfulcard.

“Unnecessary?” Zayn stuttered out.

“Yeah, it’s just whoever this is clearly wants no-stringsattached and I mean at this point in my life, I’m not looking for that. I’mlooking for something permanent.” He proclaimed, the words hanging meaningfullybetween them before Liam rapped the counter with his knuckles and headed outwith a goodbye.

Zayn stood there, utterly embarrassed yet still determined,if he was to judge Liam’s intent gaze towards him as he stated his wish for afuture.

And yes, he wanted exactly that. He wanted a future withLiam, where instead of sharing small smiles and awkward small talk over themarble counter, he shared soft, gentle pecks and warm hugs with a murmured good morning.

He sighed heavily and banged his forehead against themarble.

Right, time to break out the big guns. Tommo to the rescue.

***

Louis was very secretive about his idea, even went as far asto claim it was a gift. Now that confused Zayn, because Louis had packed the‘gift’ into a very thin brown bag to go with Liam’s Sunday coffee and breakfastthat he always took at the shop.

Sundays were also pretty stressful for Zayn; not just thatcustomers were milling in by the tens, rather a very intense looking Liam Paynesat in close proximity to where Zayn usually stood behind the counter. Hisknees felt weak every time they made eye contact, something hot and stormybrewing in those brown orbs.

But as Liam reached for his breakfast sandwich, somethingheavy like a booklet falls out of the brown packaging. Confusedly, he reacheddown for the long booklet that looked more like a cheque book but the vibrantpink and purple colours assured him it wasn’t.

He raised his head and looked around, maybe someone slippedit in or left it accidentally, but he paused as he flipped it around to readwhat was written on it.

Across the shop, Zayn held his breath as Liam looked aroundhim at the customers chatting away before finally zeroing in on Louis.

Zayn frowned as he watched Liam stand up from his chair andstride determinedly towards Louis before seeming hesitant to talk to him.

“Mate?” Louis has noticed now that Liam is stood in front ofhim, but he doesn’t see the cheque book like gift clutched in Liam’s fist.

The older man clears his throat uncomfortably, beforeraising the booklet to Louis’ eye level.

“Um, Louis, I appreciate the gift but, um, I’m not sure youand I – “

But Zayn zoned out of what Liam was saying, no his attentionwas on the booklet that Liam was waving around.

“Sex Favours for You,” it proclaimed in a loud, black textas Zayn felt like he needed to change state into a liquid form so he couldgladly sink down a drain.

Shamefaced, his cheeks burned red as he watched Liamcontinue his speech apparently letting Louis down gently.

But his friend only chuckled, causing Liam to stop and raisehis eyebrows.

“Mate! It’s not from me,it’s from your secret admirer.” Louis set the record straight, with a smugexpression fixed on his face.

Liam’s face cleared itself of the discomfort, and he laughedlightly and flapped the book around comically. For some reason, he snuck a lookat Zayn, who hurried to look busy and not like he was shamelesslyeavesdropping.

The man cleared his throat and went to a nearby bin,dropping the booklet unceremoniously and without any doubts. Zayn held hisbreath; what did this mean for him? Sure, Liam said he wasn’t interested inonly sex but had looked at him rather significantly before throwing the giftaway.

Seriously, what was he going to do now?

***

Zayn flopped onto his belly with a groan on his bed. Niallpatted his leg affectionately before falling silent; the only sounds in theroom were Zayn’s heavy breathing and Niall’s constant munching on crisps.

“Zaynie…” Niall started gently, before sighing anddiscarding his packet of snacks to the side before manhandling Zayn to facehim.

“Stop it,” he warned him, flicking Zayn’s nose. “You’reoverthinking this, mate. You like him right? Just tell him! Or if it’s easierfor you, write it down and give it to him.”

Zayn’s voice wobbled as he managed a, “Niall, I think I lovehim.” The boy turned back onto his belly, hiding his face in his pillow, eyesfilled with tears.

But Niall jumped up off the bed landing with a thump on thefloor.

“That’s it!” He reached over to Zayn’s work desk, a mess ofscripts and unfinished works, before taking out a writing pad and offering itto Zayn with a pen.

“Write what you love about him,” Niall ordered Zayn who onlystared at his friend in a daze before he was sitting up and accepting the padand pen.

“What’s that gonna do?” Zayn’s voice rasped out, tears stillevident in his tone.

“Solve your fecking problems!” Niall turned ratherdramatically and marched out of Zayn’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Words were his thing, had always been his specialty, evenwhen they failed to get him his dream career. That’s what he did best. So Zaynput pen to paper and started writing, loopy handwriting shaping out the profoundsort of love he felt for Liam.

***

The next day Liam doesn’t show up until the evening; clad ina black tux this time, hair grown out and artfully styled, a small smilegracing his features as he greeted Zayn.

The boy was subdued Liam noticed, more so than usual, andhis odd behaviour worried the man who didn’t like seeing Zayn like this, likesomeone had snuffed out the light inside of him.

Zayn was chewing incessantly on his bottom lip, refusing tomake eye contact with Liam but soon Niall brought his order out with a biggrin.

Liam accepted it with and absent-minded thanks, and turnedaround to leave before he realized something was wrong halfway out of the shop.His coffee cup was empty; rather it was full of papers, he realized perplexedly,as he shook it back and forth and heard a rustling.

Confused beyond belief and fearing something inappropriateyet again, he slowly edged the lid off and stared down at the messy mound ofchits, loopy handwriting staring up at him.

The first chit was unrolled and it read, “I love the way hesmirks at me with those unbelievable looking lips.”

Liam huffed at the sentence, bizarre as it was, he couldn’thelp but notice the word ‘love’. His heart skipped a beat and he reached foranother chit, oblivious to the four sets of eyes on him, one particular setbelonged to a rather nervous and teary-eyed boy.

The second one read, “I love the way he always says goodmorning even if he’s having a shit day.”

A third chit said, “I love the way his eyes twinkle when hetalks about his family.”

“I love the little coffee-coloured birthmark on his neck.”

“I love that he always takes the time to get to knowpeople.”

“I love the suits he wears almost every day.”

“I love the fact that even though he doesn’t love me, healways makes sure I’m okay.”

At the last one, Liam furrowed his eyebrows, emotionsflitting from happiness to complete confusion. Who was this person? And how didthey know him so well? He was about to look up to ask Niall, when he noticed afinal chit at the bottom of the empty cup.

“I love you, Liam. Always.

- Zayn xx”

Liam’s breath whooshed out of him, and he looked up at theboy with his mouth agape.

Zayn loved him? Him?

Finally, the last puzzle piece shifted into place; the boyhe was head over heels for was actually interested in him, in Liam. He could scarcely believe hisluck, not only was he under the impression that Zayn wasn’t interested in him,Liam was always aware of the significant age gap between them.

He huffed out a breath incredulously before forcing himselfto move. But he didn’t make his way towards Zayn like his heart was pushing himto.

He forced himself to walk out the door determinedly.

Zayn watched the love of his life walk out of the coffeeshop, possibly to never return. The coffee shop was completely empty ofcustomers and Zayn couldn’t help but let out a wounded noise as he sank to theground, arms wrapped around himself.

He felt hands on him, comforting words murmured into hishair, but he didn’t care. Liam had taken one look at the person behind thesilly notes and decided he didn’t want any of it. All of his fears had cometrue.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there, knees aching, cryinginto his friends’ embraces, before a loud bang jolted him.

Footsteps hurried towards them, and he heard Louis shoutout, “What the fuck do you want now?”

All of a sudden, he felt the warmth of Harry leave him, andZayn felt shocked at the loss before it was replaced by another person. Liam.

“Darling, don’t cry,” Liam cooed in his ear, lips pressinggently onto his tear-stained cheeks.

Zayn let out a confused sob as he cautiously looked up atLiam, who only tutted quietly at him, cupping his cheeks with large hands. Afleeting kiss was pressed into his forehead and Zayn leaned into the wonderfulfeeling before Liam was wiping his tears for him.

Still sitting on the floor like a dolt, Zayn attempted tosort himself out as best he could, scrubbing his face clean of tears andrunning a haphazard hand through his hair.

Liam gazed patiently at Zayn before murmuring to the boy, “Now,I still have an event to get to, darling, but I was wondering if you were freetomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Why?” The boy asked with an adorably confused expressionon his face.

Liam beamed at him, “Yeah, there’s this art gallery openingI want to take you to.”

Zayn’s mouth gaped open, eyes wide as they gazed up at Liam,“You – you’re taking me to an art show? Like – on a date?”

The man nodded and chuckled at Zayn’s answering grin,pressing more lingering kisses onto the boy’s cheeks before moving away tostand up.

Zayn stood up with him, noting how his friends had alreadyleft, probably to grace him with the last shred of dignity he had left. Liamreached over to the marble counter, where he picked up a beautiful bouquet ofwhite roses and offered it gently to Zayn.

“White roses for my Yorkshire boy.”

Liam leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth softly,before smiling at him and turning away to the doors of the shop. He stopped atthe doors and turned back to Zayn and called out.

“See you tomorrow, darling. I’ll pick you up.”

And with that final sentence, the love of Zayn’s life walkedout again, this time leaving the boy with a heart bursting full of joy and asmile that lasted for hours as he buried his nose in the beautiful flowers allnight.

#ziam #fanfiction #noshowolfie #ziamfanfiction #my fic

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caniusecontractionsinmy891 · 4 years

Video

youtube

paper writing

About me

Handwriting Paper Templates

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existentialkendall-blog · 7 years

Text

Sharpie Soulmates (Soulmate AU)

Pairing: Kickthestickz Wordcount: 2.3k Rating: bad language, but nothing to cry about

Request/Prompt: Whatever you write on yourself appears on your soulmate but disappears from your skin. Pj is always covered in horrible pick up lines and crudely drawn dicks. While Chris is covered in doodles and gets an occasional 'fuck you' or 'you're a dick' on himself from pj. Eventually they meet when Chris writes 'I have a small dick' on his forehead and sees pj.

A/N: Request a fic here, click a like down there. This isn’t youtube people, you guys aren’t stupid enough to need to be told what to do

At first, PJ doesn't notice the harsh black lines on his skin. Usually flecks of paint adorn his skin, and consumed with work, he doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about himself. It's always the next idea, the following project, the bigger picture. When it first happens he doesn't see it until it's almost faded. On his right ankle, the small crude pen drawing of a dick, moving whenever he flexed his foot. It's repulsive, and for the first few seconds he's confused. Then he grabs the closest sharpie, and traces the image hoping it will go away. Since it's on his skin, a replica over the top might send the drawing back to it's owner. It doesn't, and now he's marred someone else with pornography. He throws the pen down in frustration and licks his finger, rubbing at the spot. It doesn't do anything. When he's in the shower, some 8 minutes later, he has an epiphany of sorts. He's just made contact with his soulmate, and the first interaction they had was matching ankle dicks. PJ groans, head falling back against the shower wall in annoyance.

___

It's strange, but paint doesn't transfer or leave his skin. It's only pen, ink. So when he's painting a cardboard box white, because he found a stash of the boxes yesterday, he's almost disappointed that he can't stay clean. "Is this for a new video?" Jamie asks, bent over his shoulder and watching the paint transform the conventional brown to a clinical white. Could be an office, a space station, a hospital. Most of the time he sticks with the brown, but for some reason he was in the mood for painting a calming white. PJ nods, still thinking about a video idea, "Yeah. I've got something in mind." "Cool, let me know when you've figured everything out," PJ nods again, "Also... What the hell is that?" Alert due to the shift in Jamie's voice, he turns and looks at his friend confused, then his eyes trail down and he sees it. 'Stop, drop, and roll, baby. You are on fire' Written on his arm in chicken scratch font, thick because it'd been gone over several times with the pen. "I..." He trails off, "I. I think that is my soulmate."Jamie pats him on the back in congratulations. "Well done."As soon as Jamie's retreating back leaves the room PJ scribbles on his arm 'You're a real dick' It doesn't take long for the message to receive a reply, and when it does PJ's irritated groan is possibly louder than yesterdays. 'I do have a real dick! Did you like the preview I sent you yesterday? Judging from your eager response I'd say yes' He bites his lip while writing, lower down then before so the words flow like a conversation on the other persons skin, smiling because even though the person on the other end is annoying the crap out of him, his soulmate is a boy. A man. He's never been with a guy before, and it's exciting yet nerve wracking to know he will be. 'Oh so that was a scale copy? I'm so sorry that you didn't grow during puberty like the rest of us' PJ reads the next piece of writing, grinning even more, then goes back to painting. When Sophie asks him later why he has 'YOU HAVE A BIG COCK???' taking up three quarters of his forearm, he flushes a pretty pink and laughs awkwardly.

___

On the second day he nervously asks 'What's your name?' The pen flips restlessly in his hand, patting against his black jeaned thigh until the name appears on his other arm, because as PJ quickly learnt, the love of his eternity is left handed. 'Chris' Huh. Chris. With the pad of his index finger, he traces each letter tentatively. When he reaches the end he repeats the motion, hovering over the capital C that seems so much more magnetic than the other letters. 'And yours' PJ's eyes soften and his mouth turns up at the corners. Yours. His. Mine. And then he understands the question and uses his green fine liner to trace 'PJ' adding several layers of ink so it's bold and bright and him.

___

The problem is, PJ's a doodler. One trait that's been fluid since he was a child is that he loves to doodle. Especially on his skin. In fact, some of his best drawings were conceived that way during school; too tired to care about the subjects and too unprepared to bring extra paper. Skin was there for him when paper was not. He couldn't kick the habit when he entered University, and he sure as hell can't kick it now when he's a year in. Frequently he finds himself sitting with a pack of felt tipped Crayolas, or no name fineliners, drawing small, and large, designs on his left arm. For the past week it's been no different. What's annoying is he liked seeing the efforts of his creative process on his arm, wearing it like a tattoo, a badge of honour. But it disappears quickly, and he has to start again. Chris leaves him a critique one day running across the centre of his wrist. 'You're an incredible artist' It takes PJ by surprise. He's used to waking up and finding thickly inked penises on various locations on his body, or cheesy chat up lines that have PJ rolling his eyes but smiling fondly. Several of his favourites include; 'There are a lot of fish in the sea, but you’re the only one I’d like to mount' 'Oh no, I’m choking! I need mouth to mouth, quick!' 'I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?' Needless to say, every written sentence and poorly thought out line, no matter how disturbing or rude, is both irritating and endearing.

___

That is, until the guy buys a six pack of sharpies. Beforehand it was ballpoint pens, stuff he was able to wash off easily. Not now. When he steps into the shower one morning, eyes blearily searching for the shampoo to wash the sleep out of his frenzied hair, he thinks everything is fine. There aren't any markings, and to be honest, that's a relief because they're a bitch to wash off every morning. It's when he's out of the shower and in front of the mirror, towelling down to get rid of the individual water droplets that trail down his chest, that he catches the black in the corner of his eye. 'My hand belongs here' PJ's jaw drops and he's stuck still for a few fleeting seconds. "What the fuck." It's on his neck. Not on a small scale, but like the Joker's writing, jagged and uneven. Backwards in the mirror, but PJ has magicked up enough mirror demons to read reversed. Almost blinded by rage and incredulousness, he's about to charge out of his tiny bathroom and write something way more offensive on his own body for Chris to have scar his skin for the days it takes for Sharpie to wash off. But then he spots 'Wanna go for a test drive?' on his hipbone as he's turning to leave. And then, 'Insert finger here' complete with an arrow pointing down to his asshole. It's almost illegible, how he managed to contort his body enough to scribble it on is beyond him. Amazed at Chris's audacity and carelessness he dashes out to his desk and plucks a bright blue permanent marker up. As he's writing a long list of complaints on his leg, and then rising up to his chest, he feels the similarities to writing film reviews on IMBd or letters of complaint that his parents used to do. Except, this is to the guy he's destined to be with, and he knows the complaining won't do jack shit to change his behaviour. ___

It's relatively peaceful for a while. PJ it still littered with pick up lines daily, the 'My bedroom has an interesting ceiling, I could take you on a guided tour' and the 'When are you expected back at Heaven?', and PJ still absently doodles on the curve of his wrist and palm of his hand, forgetting that Chris will see it until it's already sent. During this time he's been uploading more to YouTube. It's still in it's early stages, but he's grateful for the site because he's getting much more experience. Due to work, and YouTube, and constant creating, he hasn't really thought about meeting Chris. Although they're talked (if you can call it that) every day, they haven't discussed personal details, or their future together. Because if they're soulmates, they have to be together, there's no way they can be with anyone else.

___

PJ wakes up stupidly early, the sun hasn't fully risen yet and the sky is a dusty grey, illuminated by yellowing streetlights. He forces himself to get up, and leave the house before 6:00am. The train to London leaves at 7:00am, and he wants to get coffee from the station before the journey. He pulls on his favourite green sleeved t-shirt slowly, bones cracking at the movements, and when he slides his socks on the fading purple dick on the base of his foot makes his smirk. Fully dressed and he's in the bathroom, tiredly dragging a toothbrush and staring at the sink with half closed eyes. He's out for the whole day, all four of his 'team' are. It's both research for a short film they're making for his Uni course, and a golden opportunity to meet with some sponsors that might fund his next big personal project. Until. "FUCK!" PJ yells, toothbrush falling from his open hands and eyes wide. "No! No, no, no," He wets a flannel and starts rubbing at his forehead, shaking with anxious frustration. The pen won't come off. 'I've got a small dick' is going to be permanently tattooed on his face in all the colours of the rainbow for the entire day. He adds soap and tries again, heart pounding uncomfortably. He can't meet sponsors with that filth tainting him. "Chris, you fucking asshole, I'm going to fucking kill you," PJ mutters, giving up, leaving his skin a red mess. He shoves a beanie on, and leaves the house with a scowl firmly fixed onto his face. His travelling companions don't say a word, even though they heard his angry explosion of profanities earlier. They get to London and shoot some footage in Hyde Park, brown boots hitting grey pavement as the scenery begins to change and the crowds grow thicker. He's actually forgotten that he's mad at Chris, too busy laughing at the stupid faces his friends are pulling, and running along the grass for various nature sequences. After a few hours they stop, and decide to head to a café. It's a warm spring day, and he peels off his beanie to stop his head from overheating. From where he's stood in the queue, he can see his friends take the leather sofas at the end of the shop, claiming it for their group only. One persons order is fulfilled, one step forward, the queue gets smaller. He can feel his fringe sticking to his forehead and he wipes it aside, grimacing at the damp strands that he knows will be several shades darker then the rest of his hair. At first, he doesn't notice the guy staring at him next to the floor to ceiling windows. He's wearing a baby blue striped t-shirt, coupled with raised eyebrows and messy hair. On the high table next to him is an abandoned coffee, keeping warm under the beating sun from outside. He's still there when they leave, PJ's hat clutched between his fingers because it's too freakin hot to put it back on. His camera bag is slouched across his body, and he's grinning at something Sophie says, when a hand clamps his shoulder and he turns around. The stranger that had been watching him is gaping open mouthed at PJ's forehead. That's when he remembers what Chris wrote, and he's going to explain, he swears he is, but the guy is hot. His floppy brown hair is messy above green flecked hazel eyes, and his mouth is practically begging to be... put to use. "I can explain," He finally breathes out, making an effort to stop staring at the stranger. The guy quirks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, as if to say go ahead, I've got all day. "See, this thing, y'know-""Let me stop you right there," He smirks, interrupting PJ's garbled rambling. From his pocket he pulls out a thin marker and in sloped, disjointed text, writes something on his palm. Then he takes PJ's slender wrist in his hand, circling it with his fingers, and turns it around, his thumb drifting idly down his wrist and resting over PJ's pulse point.

you're PJ what's on your forehead is a work of art just like your face I'm fated to love you

"Do I get a hello kiss or do you not put out on the first date?" Chris smiles wide and his other hand, the one not sliding into his own palm and curling around his fingers so they entwine, is reaching around his waist. PJ blushes and manages a "Public," Before slipping out of his grasp. "Oh c'mon honey, it's gonna happen sometime," Chris whines, high pitched and strung out. PJ shakes his head, and walks away from Chris. He follows him, long legs catching up quickly. He throws an arm around PJ's shoulders casually and leans down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss on the side of his cheek. "You and me Peej, we're gonna fuck away the world." PJ rolls his eyes, brain automatically lending the words dick, and you're a. But he rejects his instinct and goes for a muttered "You should feel so lucky." "Oh I will. Later." It's natural, seamless, right. Chris is his. He is Chris's.

Part 2

#kickthestickz #fanfiction #fanfic #chris kendall #pj liguori #crabstickz #kickthepj #crabstickztag2

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wickedhandy1 · 5 years

Text

DIY Antique Style Welcome Sign

Welcome signs for your doorstep are such a great way to make people feel invited into your home! It sets the tone for your style to anyone passing by, and in general just gives your house a more neighborly feel. This project allows you to make one in no time at all (and at minimal cost) that perfectly fits your style! The other bonus factor to this sign is that it’s made from one complete piece of wood unlike most welcome signs that are made from two thin boards that will warp in the elements in no time! This means you’ll have a beautiful board for years to come!

Now if you are anything like me you are thinking “Great, but my handwriting is awful!”, because trust me, my handwriting is not something you want plastered at the front of your home. To make this truly, uniquely you, I have found a way to make homemade “stickers” in place of stencils. What’s the point? It gives you the same effect as stencils, but you get to completely customize the font and size of your letters instead of being confined to pre-made stencils or be blessed with amazing handwriting. Then when you paint is dry, you just peel them off and have an absolutely amazing sign! It also allows you to have a sign where your letters are stain and your board is painted, instead of the traditional stained sign with painted letters!

So let’s get started:

Materials:

1″x10″x6′ Pine Board

Painter’s Tape

Vaseline

Craft Sponge (Optional)

Wood Filler (Optional)

Rags

Tack Cloth

3M Super 77 Spray Adhesive

Rust-Oleum Ultra Cover Paint

Minwax Walnut Stain

Thompson’s WaterSeal Clear Waterproofer

Tools:

Table Saw (Optional)

Measuring Tape

Router

1/2″ Cove Router Bit

Sandpaper

Sander

Metal Ruler

Razor Blade/X-Acto Knife

Painter’s Pyramid

Computer Printer/Paper

Applicable Safety Equipment

Affiliate Disclosure: This page contains affiliate links for products that can be purchased to complete this project. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. I get commissions for purchases made through links in this post at no additional cost to you. Your purchase helps support this website.

The first thing you are going to have to decide is the size, font, stain color, and paint color for your sign. This is going to be completely dependent on your personal taste. For this project we are using walnut stain on a 5′ board with Heirloom white paint. We decided on using Imprint MT Shadow for our font to give it an antiqued farmhouse look. Feel free to adjust your sign based on your personal preferences with these instructions.

The first step to this super simple welcome sign is to cut down your board. This is an optional step but I did it for a couple reasons; my board has a few unpleasant imperfections on the sides, 6′ just felt too big for my doorway since it’s pretty narrow, and I wanted to remove a slight warp in my board without dealing with a planer. I used a table saw and cut down 1″ on each side lengthwise, then cut 6″ on the top and bottom. This gave me a 5′ x 8″ board to work with.

Next I wanted to add a little decoration to the board without taking away from an aged, antique feel. To achieve this I used a 1/2″ cove router bit. I set it so the bearing was 3/4″ above the router table and cut the board all the way around on the edge (side that will have the writing). This gave me a little visual appeal without being too flashy!

1/2″ Cove Router Bit

Simple Finished Look

I then filled in any wood knots with wood filler where needed. This made sure when I applied the stain there wouldn’t be visible cracks in the board, especially where I would have the letters. I just let it dry for a few minutes then sanded it down to be flush with the board.

Cracks In The Knots

Filled In With Wood Filler

Sand Down Flush

Now you want to give the whole board a good sanding to remove any imperfections that don’t help with the aged look like marker or dirt stains. I started with 60 grit sand paper then did a real quick sanding at 120 grit. For the cove edging I used a piece of sand paper wrapped around my finger to get in the grove. Once this is done, wipe down the whole board with a tack cloth to get any sawdust off of it and get ready to stain.

I used Minwax Walnut Stain for the base of my welcome sign because it was a nice dark rich color that would pop against the white paint. I would recommend sticking with a contrasting color from what your paint color is to make the lettering more visible from a distance. Once you stain the whole board according to the manufacturer’s directions, I put my sign on painter’s pyramids to allow it to dry completely.

Stain Your Board & Let Dry Completely

While that’s drying, it’s time to work on the letters. We used Imprint MT Shadow font for our board but it’s really up to you. You want to keep a few things in mind while picking your font:

Will it be easy to read from a distance?

How difficult will it be to cut out the letters?

Does it match the style you are looking for?

It is very important to remember you will be cutting out these letters with a razor blade of some sort (I prefer an X-Acto knife) so you probably don’t want to do something that is extremely detailed. I like the Imprint MT Shadow font because it had personality but also a lot of straight lines that I could use a ruler as a guide to cut. Depending on what kind of font you use the font size will vary, but I would keep your letters about 4-5″ tall. This will give you room on the top and bottom of your sign for any seasonal decoration you may want to add, while still giving you a little spacing between the letters. We decided instead of the “O” in Welcome, that we wanted to put our Texas state on the sign. We just simple did a search for Texas and picked an image. We then put it in paint and added the word “home” in the center where it would look nice. This step is completely optional, but we liked the homey, personalized feel this would give our sign.

Roughly Cut Out The Letters

Pick Your Font & State

Next just loosely cut out the letters so you are getting rid of all the extra paper. Don’t cut closer than a 1/4″ from the letters or you will be making the next step a little more difficult for yourself. I would just copy the picture above. Lay out all your letters on your board to make sure you like the look and spacing. We ended up doing 5 1/2″ of space on the top and bottom of the sign, then 2 1/2″ in between the letters. Once you are happy with the look, it’s time to start making “stickers” with them.

Make Sure To Play With Spacing To Get Your Favorite Look

Next you want to take painter’s tape (wide if you have it) and tape your board from about an inch above the first letter to an inch below the last letter. This is going to give you the adhesive of the sticker. I used a small piece of scrap would to press down the tape from top to bottom to make sure it was well secured. You then want to use a sharpie and mark the sections each letter is going to fall into. This is a little boring and time consuming, but it will make your sign look amazing when it’s all done. Then do one last check by laying out your letters before adhering them to the board.

Use Painter’s Tape

Mark Where Letters Go

One Final Check…

Now I used Super 77 Spray Adhesive to adhere the letters to the board. I sprayed the back of the letters, then using that same piece of scrap wood, I would place the letter in it’s designated spot then run the wood over it to make sure it was well placed and no air bubbles got into it. I also marked the halfway point on each section line and the letter so I could easily line up the letters in a straight line (that spray adhesive dries amazingly quickly so you don’t have time to adjust once you place the letter on the board). Once that’s done let it dry for a few minutes. This is a good time to walk around the block or have a cup of coffee because the next part is not the most exciting task in the DIY world (but I promise it’s totally worth it)!

Now you want to take your X-Acto knife and a metal ruler and start cutting out the letters. You are cutting out any of the white, leaving the black lettering in place. This will mean when you paint your sign, the letters will be the stain and the sign will be “aged” paint. The only exception to this is if you did a state like I did, where you keep the outline of the state but cut out the lettering. This part is time consuming but it’s worth taking your time. I honestly got a little bored with it so I did this part in my dining room table so I could watch TV while I plugged away at it. Be careful to try to only cut around the letters with the razor because the spray paint will not fill in these lines (as I learned the hard way). The lines were driving me nuts (though my fiance was sure no one would see them once the sign was in place) but I knew they were there so I had to fix it. I’ll explain how to fix it if you make a mistake later in this post.

This is the only spot that the letters are cut out and removed

Once that is done you are almost done. To antique the paint, I used Vaseline and a piece of sponge, placing a little Vaseline on it and patting it around the board where I thought it would naturally wear. I focused on the edges, corners, in the cove edging, and in the blank spaces on the top and bottom of the board. I also did some spots on the back of the board so it would match. I like using a sponge because it will give a randomness to the pattern, but I’ve used crumpled up paper towels, q-tips, paint brushes, and even my fingers for this in other projects so feel free to experiment. Ultimately you are just trying to achieve an aged look with whatever tools you decide to use.

Now you want to take your spray paint and paint the sign, front and back. I used Rust-Oleum Ultra Cover Paint + Primer in Heirloom White. Now, you can brush on your paint but this is why I chose spray paint:

Easy Application

Easy Clean Up

Paint Would Be Less Uniform, Giving A Better “Antiqued” Feel

Reduced Risk Of Paint Sealing Stickers In Place

I simply sprayed the paint on all sides of the board, then went back and did a little touch up where it was necessary. Once your paint is dry to the touch (mine only took 20 minutes), take a clean paper towel or rag and wipe down your board, making sure to get all the spots where you put the Vaseline.

Completely Paint Your Board

Rub Paint Where Vaseline Was

Wear On Edging Adds Authenticity

Now, let’s address my mistake with the razor lines. I didn’t think twice while I was making this because I figured such thin lines would easily be hidden by the paint but I was so so wrong. To fix this just take a little wood filler and rub it into the groove, making sure to wipe off any excess. Lightly repaint those areas. Don’t worry, while I was upset when I saw the lines, I liked the end result of this because it added a more layered, authentic feel to the board.

We are so close to being done! Now you want to remove all the letters from your board. Lightly sand (very lightly) with 120 grit or finer sand paper. This will take any new feel to the paint away and add a little wear to the letters, so it matches the rest of the board. Make sure to do this to the back of the board too.

Light Sanding Gives The Whole Board A Worn Look

Seriously, how much do you love this sign so far? You could stop here and start waterproofing it but I did one last 3 minute step that I think really put it over the top. After I wiped down the whole board to get rid of any dust, I mixed about a teaspoon of black paint (I just used some leftover acrylic black paint I had from a previous project) with an ounce of water. When I say I mixed it, I literally swished around the bowl the paint and water was in, so that when I applied it then I would have darker and lighter areas. I then dunked a rag in the mixture and rubbed down the whole board with it. I think this really gave it the right antiqued look I was going for, especially since this is an outdoors piece so the aging would naturally darken the wood.

Before Paint Wash

After Paint Wash

Now the difference is subtle but it took that new paint feel away from the piece. The last and final step is to waterproof your sign so it lasts for years to come. I used Thompson’s WaterSeal Clear Waterproofer. I’ve used this for my outdoor planters and it’s amazing at how well it protects the wood. My only complaint with this product is that it takes 24 hours to dry and you want to do at least 2 coats to make sure you have completely protected your Welcome Sign.

That’s it! I know it was a lot of reading, but the actual project is simple to complete and extremely inexpensive. This is a great project to do with friends or kids, and you can easily modify this to fit your unique tastes! I hope you enjoyed this project and please if you try this, leave a picture of your final product in the comments to inspire others!

Disclaimer: Please make sure with all your projects that you have read your equipment’s safety manual and are following the recommended safety precautions. We are not responsible for the results of your DIY projects as results can vary based on your skill level, quality of materials, and age of your equipment.

source https://wickedhandy.net/diy-antique-style-welcome-sign/

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bananashemmo · 7 years

Text

When We Collide (Part 9)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

When We Collide on Wattpad

”Ow Luke, what the fuck!”

Your voice was so loud by the sudden shock going through your body once you felt two fingers pinch you in the side, looking up to see him storm right beside you and towards the door that lead down to the Gynecology & Obstetrics department.

“Oh yeah thanks, hello to you too.” You mumbled in disbelief and removed yourself from the waiting booth to head towards him and keep up with his long legs.

“I’m not in a mood for anything today Y/N.” He said through gritted teeth as if it was something you had triggered completely, and both your eyes widened when you tried to walk through the door at the same time.

“Have you heard about manners?” You spat.

“Have you heard about not shouting at a hospital?” He whisper-hissed back and pointed towards the yellow sign hanging on the wall. It was common on almost every hospital, that little drawn man with a finger pointed in front of his lips to make sure everyone was quiet.

“Oh I’m sorry, let’s start over then.” You suggested but not as excitedly as your tone was. It was all coming from the fact that you hadn’t gotten your coffee this morning and that you were so insanely tired it’s unbelievable.

“Good morning Luke. Or should I call you sir? I mean, we’re not at work but I assume you see me as your assistant no matter where we go?”

“Y/N I just told you I’m not in a mood for anything.” He stopped to grab you hand and prevent you from walking further away. “So please, for the love of god don’t start a scene already. Let’s just get this over with.”

You didn’t respond with anything else but a nod. He looked so tired, somehow so defeated you didn’t understand what was going on but neither did you want to ask. He clearly just looked like someone who hadn’t slept right for a year.

“Sorry the princess and the pea.” You mumbled so quiet you didn’t hear him. He made a flick with his eyes that spoiled that he did but kept his lips tightened and continued to walk. You were always testing his nerves so he easily knew how to shut it off by now.

“We have an appointment down by the room 6A.”

He looked towards the room you pointed at a few meters away from you. The door was blue unlike the rest of them and it had the letter and number clear written with large font. Only idiots wouldn’t be able to find this place and you nervously grabbed the handle, being the first one to walk in.

It was as if everything became completely white once you got inside. There was a small desk in the middle of it with two chairs directed in front of it. Windows behind were large and covered with grey curtains, a bed with a weird monitor was placed by the right side of the room and to the left was a small attached bathroom.

A woman was sitting behind the desk with red sharp bobbed hair that covered a bit of the black glasses she was wearing. Red lipstick just like the hair was matching and the only thing that seemed to stand out from the otherwise white and boring smock with a nametag and profession.

“Good morning, you must be Y/N Y/L/N.” She stood up from her chair and greeting, hovering over the desk to take her hand.

“Yes that’s me.” You announced and felt a little push on your shoulder when Luke leaned down to grab her hand afterwards in greeting.

“Sir. Luke Hemmings I prefer.”

“Really?” You whisper yelled and looked up at him with wide eyes to see him completely ignore you before taking a seat. You stood for a second and wanted to roll your eyes before you took a seat down on the left chair and crossed your leg over the other.

“Well Miss. Y/L/N and Sir Hemmings, welcome to Queens Hospital Center,” She said as she took a seat down on her red rolling chair and rolled forward until her waist touched the wooden table.

“My name is Alice Sullivan and I’m gonna be your doctor for today. I assume from the files I’ve been sent that what we’re gonna talk about today is abortion. Is that correct?”

You hummed in agreement and crossed your arms, watching in the corner of your eye that Luke was doing the same. Things couldn’t get any more awkward but it did, you just wanted to disappear.

“Okay so this is gonna be a long process of course it depends how far you are and such. I’m gonna explain a few things to you first, ask a few questions here and there and afterwards run a few tests. It is my job to find out what is best for you but you have to remember…”

She paused to look at the both of you with a serious look, “This is all your choice. I’m not here to affect you in any way but it is my job to tell you facts and how things are done here.”

“Let’s just get started.” Luke almost wanted to interrupt but he kept quiet until she was done talking and looked a little bit eager. You wanted to kick him over the leg but you couldn’t do it in fear of actually hitting her instead.

“Of course.” Dr. Sullivan said as if it didn’t affect her and leaned over to grab a few of her papers. She circled around a few things with her blue ink marker and tapped it against her cheek before looking up at the two of you.

“So to just get an overview of everything I assume you’re the father?” She pointed over at Luke.

“Oh well that’s the thing I assume too but you never know with girls.” He crossed his arms with widened eyes and this time you gave him a harsh kick in the leg.

“Yes he’s the father, please don’t listen to him.” You shook your head in disbelief and moved up so your lips were pressed against his ear to whisper.

“Unlike others I don’t sleep with everyone who has a pulse and a pair of nipples.”

Luke’s eyes widened by your words so wide they were ready to pop out but he couldn’t get the chance to say anything because Dr. Sullivan cleared her throat to get your attention.

“Okay so yes, we have a ‘to become’ father and mother in front of me.” She signed down onto a paper and crossed a few squares, most probably pretending that she didn’t hear what you were mocking at each other.

“And I assume you’re not together?”

“No…” You both responded in unison and shared a quick eye contact before your eyes adverted back to hers. With that attitude of yours that would most probably not be a shocker to her as well.

“Okay so next question; When did the conceiving happen?” She questioned after writing a few things down, eyes looking up from her glasses to hear a respond.

“That must have been four weeks ago.” You said it unsure with and eyes staring up at the ceiling, honestly you couldn’t really remember when you thought about it. The last couple of weeks had been complete blur.

“It’s almost a month ago.” Luke replied instead and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“No what are you talking about it’s not that long of a time ago?”

“Yes is it!”

“How can you even remember you said your ass was so drunk-,” If it wasn’t for the loud cough that came from Dr. Sullivan to interrupt the two of you from arguing again you would have continued your sentence.

Your lips tightened and you fell far back in your chair to make sure you would shut up, this was getting out of hand and was becoming and embarrassment. Luke did the exact same thing, a small hint of red blush coming to his cheeks.

“It must have been between four-five weeks ago. We’re not sure but we assume it’s something you can figure out on one of your fancy machines?” Luke nodded his head towards the equipment to the right and Dr. Sullivan nodded her head in agreement.

“Yes that’s correct, after a small run of tests we’ll go over to the ultrasound scanner and check out what’s going on inside of Y/N’s belly. I just have to explain you about the two different abortions we have.”

You leaned forward to listen carefully, you could feel a gutted feeling run up your spine.

“It’s either gonna be a medical abortion or a surgical abortion depending on how far you are. I assume that from your lack of memory you’re not quite sure when the intercourse happened and that’s why we’re gonna have to make sure you’re less than nine weeks.”

“What happens during the medical abortion?” You looked down at the paper she had just given out for you to see, it was better with an image of what was going on instead of her explaining everything and you wouldn’t get the chance to understand anything.

“We will give you pills that will completely stop the process. Once you take just one there’s point of no return and you will eventually lose the baby no matter what. It will hurt a little bit just like period cramps and you will most probably feel nausea. It’s a common thing for everyone and the day after you’ve taken your pills we’re gonna give you a new set.”

“So it’s not so painful?” You questioned just to be sure, it definitely didn’t sound comfortable but just the sound of a surgical one sounded even worse.

“It’s gonna hurt, it’s not something you can avoid but the pain will eventually go away and we will help you as much as we can with pills that’s gonna help. The further you are into the pregnancy the more it will hurt because of the massive bleeding.” Dr. Sullivan pointed down at the paper you were holding to show you what she was talking about with her ink marker.

“I think that’s gonna be it then.” You mumbled a little bit unsure to yourself and looked over at Luke to see him look down at his lap. Not that he was that much of a help or support in all of this.

“Okay so I just have a few other questions to ask and we will go through it. I just have to go look at your journal.” She stood up from her chair with a soft smile and headed towards a few drawers and opened it.

“Have you been pregnant before?” She asked while searching for your journal.

“No this is the first and probably the last.” You mumbled the last part below your breath and watched her take out the beige part with your name written largely on the front of it.

“Do you have kids?”

“I have twin daughters.” She smiled and took a seat down with her glasses now resting in the air. It seemed to grab Luke’s attention and his eyes widened while he fiddled onto his bottom lip with your fingers.

“Didn’t you just think fuck when you found out that it wasn’t just one but two?” He asked interested and leaned forward to look at her.

“Actually no,” She explained and opened you file to look inside, “I thought to myself; How could my husband and I be so lucky to be blessed by not only one child but two. They’re five and literally the only thing that makes me wake up every single day.”

She was smiling so softly to herself you felt a gutted feeling again. She looked over at the small picture she had on her table with whom you assumed to be her twins and took a small glance at it. They must have been the only thing keeping her up on long working days like this.

“So you haven’t been pregnant before Y/N. Have you taken pregnancy tests? We just have to be 100% sure otherwise I’ll have to ask you to go out and give me a urine example.”

“Oh no urine examples please.” You were quick to respond and shook your head, “I took four pregnancy test and two more when I came home from the first ones just to make sure it wasn’t just everything fucking up at once.”

Luke’s eyes widened again your announcement and he was unsure whether to say something or just stay quiet.

“Well I think that settles everything, no urine test then.” She chuckled to herself by your wide reaction and looked down at the file for a second. She hummed a bit, read a few things but then she suddenly furrowed her eyebrows.

“What?” You questioned confused as if she had read something that was bad in your journal.

“Please don’t say she’s got chlamydia or something I literally just got rid of that.” Luke suddenly commented and it was like time froze completely, your jaw falling when you looked over at him.

“I’m fucking kidding okay, can someone give me a cup of coffee!” He yelled out to nobody in particular and raised his arms in the air to express his anger and frustration all at once on this otherwise normal Monday morning.

“Actually, I’d prefer if you both stayed here just to give you more information.” Dr. Sullivan said, still with furrowed eyebrows and you looked over at Luke unsure.

“What’s going on?” You asked and saw as she shifted in her seat and sighed softy.

“The thing is Y/N, I’m not sure if you’re aware but in your journal is says you’re infertility.”

“What?”

It didn’t come out as shocked because that wasn’t what you were. Your tone was in a mix of being confused and somehow hurt at the same time, your heart almost skipped a beat by her announcement. You had never been told this before.

“What does that mean?” Luke asked unaware but for once he did have some situation awareness and could feel that this time it wasn’t preferred to joke.

“Being infertility is someone who is unable to conceive as well as being unable to carry a pregnancy to full term.” Dr. Sullivan responded for him as you were unable to say anything, it was as if her words were echoing in your head.

“Wait so it means Y/N can’t be pregnant?” Luke asked just to be sure, he didn’t know how to react.

“Yes, according to the system she has difficulty with her eggs getting stuck to the uterus.”

“But how is this possible then?” You questioned and tried to blink away the small tears that had suddenly formed in your eyes, “If I’m unable to be pregnant how I did suddenly manage to get it anyways?”

“Sometimes miracles do happen in life.” She softly responded and looked between the two of you.

“So this might be my only baby, forever?” You could not believe you were questioning this. Never in your life had you thought about having kids. But now, without the opportunity in your hand it suddenly scared you like hell.

“This is only up to your decision, Y/N and Luke.” She looked between the two of you with a sad smile and closed the file in front of her.

Your lips were trembling and you were unable to say anything. How would you be able to convince him this? Never in his life would he agree to something like this, he would never be such a sweetheart to do it. Do something for someone else that would also mean he would take part of it for the rest of his life.

“Can we just speak in private?” You managed to say and Dr. Sullivan nodded her head respectively and left the room.

The silence hurt like hell. You could almost hear your heartbeat pound against your chest, it was so loud you were sure if Luke couldn’t hear it he could feel it against your chairs touching.

“When I was 18 I almost went up to the doctors to get myself sterilized.”

“What?” Your head shut up to look at Luke’s announcement, he was so calm but his eyes told otherwise.

“I wasn’t aware of what I was doing but back then I was so sure of one thing. I would never get kids because to me they don’t do anything else but ruin your life. They only make you want to leave everything you love because it takes that much of your time you don’t feel like yourself anymore.”

You looked at him as he spoke. He still wouldn’t look at you, his eyes were fixed on his knee bouncing up and down like he was listening to some sort of sappy song.

“I neither want a wife. I’m too free to do that, I never have the time to be home and I can’t stand the thought of being locked with someone for the rest of my life. It just wouldn’t work out for a family with me. So I went up to the doctor and I could tell just by my age he thought I was crazy but I didn’t say anything.”

This time he looked over at you to tell the rest of the story. You could feel that he never did that but just the thought of it scared you a little bit. He really wanted to take away something that could make sure he wouldn’t end up alone for the rest of his life.

“What made you not do it?” You whispered, trying to stabilize your breath, “I mean, why didn’t you want to become sterilized anyways if that’s what you planned?”

“It came to my attention with everything I’ve achieved in life, who’s gonna end up with all of that? Should I just throw it out in the trash once I’m old enough to not be able to shit, eat or sleep by the help of myself? Someone has to follow my steps. It’s not gonna be me in the death.”

You were unsure what he was hinting at, but you could also tell that neither did he. He had that blank expression on his face that told he had no idea where he was going with what he was saying.

“You want us to keep this baby?” You almost couldn’t let the words out.

“You don’t?” He asked as if it was only up to you.

“I don’t know what I want.” You whispered to yourself and leaned your legs up to wrap them around your knees. Never in your life had you been this confused as you were right now.

“As Peter said,” Luke mumbled, “I’m a man of liking challenging. This will probably be the biggest one so far but I’m willing to do it if that’s what it takes to become a man. You can’t have babies and right now for the first time in my life I don’t feel like thinking of myself.”

“Your first time?” You questioned with a quivered eyebrow, had he really been this insensitive for so many years?

“Let’s not get into that.” He mumbled and leaned down to grab a tissue from his suit to let you dry your tears and nose that had suddenly floated out.

“What if I drop the baby?” You almost wanted to hiccup, it was a mix of being so emotional but also embarrassed that Luke had to see you like this. Minutes ago you hated him more than life.

“Then we blew the chance. There’s nothing we can do about it but neither can we if we throw it away right away.” He grimaced shortly by his wordings and nodded for you to dry your eyes with it.

“But please don’t use it for your nose I hate snot and it’s silk-,”

Ignoring his words you blew everything you possibly could out of your nose and down onto his tissue, letting everything out at once and took a deep breath to calm down.

“Thank you.” You whispered and returned it, watching him do an even bigger grimace than before and managed to grab the end of it so he wouldn’t have to touch any of your germs.

“So did we find a solution?” Dr. Sullivan asked once she heard the silence coming from you and walked back into the room.

“I think we did.” Luke replied and looked over at you just to be sure that this was what you would do.

“We do. We’re cancelling the abortion.” You confirmed, not just to him or to her but also to yourself. This was what you were gonna do.

“Alright… You sure about it?” Dr. Sullivan questioned. She clearly understood how everything seemed so overwhelming and that it was hard to come up with an answer already.

“You have until week 12 to decide whether or not you want it removed.”

“I’m sure…” You replied and looked over at Luke to see him silently nod. “We’re sure.”

“Okay then, I think that officially means the meeting is over.” She folded her papers together with a smile and placed her glasses back on top of her nose.

“What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna make a small appointment in around three weeks to see how far you actually are and get the chance to listen to the heartbeat of the baby. It’s not fully developed yet so we’re not able to do that so far. I’m also gonna make sure I will be your midwife and carry you through this as it seems I already understand some of your situation.”

You stood up from your chair with a huge smile on your face by her words, shaking her hand politely as Luke did the same and pushed his chair back into the table. You didn’t really know what else to do but she gave you a paper for a new appointment just to remember.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks.” She headed towards the and politely opened it for you, waving when you walked outside and shut it closely.

You were unsure what to say other than staring at the white wall in front of you. It was as if you had just realized now what was actually going to happen and reality hit you so hard.

“Oh my fucking god.” Was the only thing Luke managed to say before he looked down at you with wide eyes, his face not being able to recognize and his jaw falling to the point of touching his feet.

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probablystudying · 7 years

Photo

MARCH STUDY CHALLENGE

DAY 9: favourite font

I can’t really say I have a favorite, but I really like fonts that highly resemble my handwriting!!

Basically, mine looks like a font named Marker Felt Wide. Oh, and I keep forgetting to promo my Plan With Me videos on here. If you wanna watch it, click here

#marchstudychallenge #plan with me #bullet journal #probablystudying #my posts #studyblr #studyspo

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luckygirl-blog1 · 5 years

Text

QuickPAD Pro

I assume everyone knows all the great things about the NEO. There’s no need to say much about that. The QuickPAD Pro, however, is much less well known. I had a lot of trouble finding out about it. In the end, I just decided to buy one and see for myself what it was all about. I got mine for $80 on Ebay. It was in brand-new condition (other than an institutional number written on it in magic marker.) It came with a complete package: QuickPAD Pro, infrared receiver, very nice carrying case, number keypad, USB cable, serial cable, and keyboard cable.

Like the NEO, the QuickPAD Pro runs on AA batteries. However, it requires 4 batteries, as opposed to 3 for the NEO. I’m not sure about battery life. I’ve read estimates ranging from 50 hours to 100 hours to 200 hours on 4 AA batteries. No matter what it is, it is sure to be much, much less than the NEO’s 700 hours.

To turn the QuickPAD Pro on, you press a tiny power button on the left side. It is up and running in about 3 seconds. The button is recessed, and it takes some effort to push it in. There’s no way that button could be pressed by accident if you were carrying the unit in a carrying case or knapsack. To turn the unit off, you have to exit whatever file you are working on and then press the Power ON/OFF key. (I’m not sure why this key is labeled Power ON/OFF. So far, I’ve only been able to use it to turn the unit off. It does not turn the unit on. Perhaps there is a system setting I have to tweak in order to enable it.)

In terms of width and height, the QuickPAD Pro is technically smaller than the NEO. Here are the specs:

————————Height———————Width NEO——————9.75 in——————–12.4 in QuickPAD———–9 in————————-11.3

However, this is comparing the QuickPAD Pro to the NEO at the NEO’s widest and highest points. With its contours and curves, the figures for the NEO are deceptive. It is that high and wide at its highest and widest points, but then it curves in to the corners. So it is smaller than those figures would suggest. The QuickPAD Pro, by contrast, is a solid rectangle at those dimensions, and, as such, it definitely has a bigger look and feel than the NEO.

The QuickPAD Pro is also slightly heavier than the NEO. Mine weighs in at 2.1 pounds with the batteries installed. My NEO weighs in at 1.7 pounds.) That is without any kind of case or covering, of course.) That doesn’t seem like a big difference, but when you’re talking about things that are so light, that difference of .4 pounds is noticeable.

As for thickness, the QuickPAD Pro is 1.25 inches thick at the screen and .75 inches thick at the keyboard. Because of its tilted top, the NEO is pretty much the same thickness as the QuickPAD Pro at the screen. However, it is thinner throughout the keyboard. Overall, the NEO gives the impression of being lighter, smaller, and sleeker. That being said, the QuickPAD Pro is more than light and small enough for a portable word processor.

The QuickPAD Pro’s screen is significantly larger than the NEO’s. As a result, it displays about 2.6 times more text than the NEO at the default settings. Here are the stats for the NEO and the QuickPAD Pro:

——————————Lines———Characters/Line———Tot. Characters AlphaSmart NEO———–6——————-60————————360 QuickPAD Pro————–16——————60————————960

There is only one other setting that I’m aware of for the QuickPAD Pro. It displays 8 lines of text but with the same 60 characters in each line. Essentially, the letters are stretched so that the lines are taller. At this setting, the QuickPAD Pro screen displays just slightly more text than the NEO – 8 lines as compared to 6 lines, or 1.33 times more. You toggle between the 16-line display and the 8-line display by pressing the Function key + the Menu key.

There’s no question, though, that the NEO’s screen is superior to that of the QuickPAD Pro in terms of readability. The font on the NEO is much nicer and the contrast is much greater. The screen on the QuickPAD Pro does not provide as much contrast. It’s lighter and it is more difficult to read the text because of that, especially when viewing it at an angle. The contrast is adjustable, but at no setting does it achieve the crispness and readability of the NEO’s screen. The font is also very clunky and unattractive.

However, I should say that over the couple of weeks that I’ve been using the QuickPAD Pro, I’ve gotten used to the screen and the font. Sitting high in a chair and looking straight down at the QuickPAD Pro’s screen, the text is quite readable. As soon as you start to slouch and view the screen from an angle, however, the text gets less readable quickly. You can adjust the contrast with the Function key on the keyboard. Function + up-arrow increases the contrast. Function + down-arrow decreases the contrast.

In addition to changing contrast, it’s possible to alter the basic appearance of the screen on the QuickPAD Pro. For example, you can increase or decrease left, right, top, and bottom borders. There is also an editing menu that can be visible or not. You can also put a border around the text to set it off. This border is just a box made of a thin line. Without the border/box, the text goes right to the edge of the screen margin on all sides. Pressing F10 calls up a simple menu that allows you to make all the above changes.

The keyboard on the QuickPAD Pro is full-size, like the NEO’s. The keys have a slightly softer feeling and action as compared to the NEO’s. The NEO’s keyboard is very crisp and responsive. The QuickPAD Pro’s keyboard is also very good, but different. I don’t think it’s really possible to say that one is better than the other. When I first used the QuickPAD Pro’s keyboard, I was used to the crispness of the NEO’s, and the QuickPAD Pro’s felt a bit mushy and slow. However, I quickly got used to it, and then the NEO’s keyboard felt kind of clacky and harsh. Both are good keyboards.

There are, however, some differences in the keys themselves. The QuickPAD Pro is more like a standard PC keyboard. It has ten function keys across the top (F1 to F10). And some of these are assigned in the same way. F1, for example, calls up a Help menu. The keys across the top of the NEO’s keyboard are assigned to the various files. The QuickPAD Pro has ctrl and alt keys and page-up and page-down keys. The NEO does not require these keys for any of its operations, so it doesn’t have them. Finally, key placement on the QuickPAD Pro is more like a standard PC keyboard. The ESC key, for example, is on the top left. On the NEO, it is on the bottom next to the space bar.

Some of the important keys on the QuickPAD Pro are, unfortunately, undersized. The space bar, enter key, shift keys, and caps-lock key are all smaller than on the NEO and on standard keyboards. This may cause problems for people who can’t adjust. They might find themselves hitting the wrong keys and making other mistakes.

The keyboard on the QuickPAD pro sticks up from the body of the unit and then the keys themselves stick up a little bit after that. It’s not a big deal, but I like how the NEO’s keys are perfectly flush with the edges and surface of the unit. Nothing sticks up at all. This makes it more convenient for sliding it into and out of its neoprene case and in and out of knapsacks.

One big difference (for me, the key difference) between the QuickPAD Pro and the NEO is the QuickPAD Pro’s memory card slot. It is a compact flash card slot. I read that it could handle cards up to 128 megabytes in size. I purchased a 128-megabyte card, but it won’t work in my unit. I happened to have a 32-megabyte card lying around, and when I tested that, it worked fine. I haven’t had a chance to try a 64-megabyte card, but I’m pretty sure it will work. Many people have used one with success.

Using the compact flash card is very simple. You simply push it into the slot. You can do this at any time – when the unit is off or on, when you have a file open or not. This makes no difference. The memory card slot is treated as a separate drive. By default, the QuickPAD Pro saves files to its internal memory. To save a file to the memory card instead, you simply press “X” when in the menu. This stands for “Exchange drive.” If there is a memory card in the slot, the QuickPAD Pro will simply switch to the card. If there is no card present, you will get a message saying that it is unavailable.

Note that the memory card does not, unfortunately, go all the way into the QuickPAD Pro’s body. It sticks out quite a long way. This means that you can’t keep a memory card in place when you put the QuickPAD Pro into a carrying case or knapsack. You have to remove the card each time and then insert it again when you need it. There is no ejection or “umounting” process. You simply pull the card out. Still, it would have been much better to be able to put the card all the way into the QuickPAD Pro. Then you could just leave it there and forget about it until you want to copy and paste files to and from a computer.

By using a compact flash memory card, memory on the QuickPAD Pro essentially becomes unlimited. You can store tens of thousands of pages of text on each card and use as many cards as you like (21,000 pages on one 64mb card by my calculations). The number of files is also unlimited. You choose an 8-character name for each file yourself, and you can have as many files as your cards will hold. The QuickPAD Pro adds a txt extension to each file.

One “gotcha” that I encountered is that even though memory is unlimited using a compact flash card, file size IS limited. It is limited by the unit’s memory buffer, ie, the amount of text that can be loaded into memory at a time. My rough calculations tell me that the limit is about 20 pages (10,000 words). That means that if you had a 100-page document, it would have to be divided into five 20-page files. You can’t load 100 pages into memory at once.

I’m not entirely clear about the QuickPAD Pro’s internal memory yet. However, I believe it can contain between 600 and 700 pages of text (300,000 to 360,000 words). (I’ll update this info when I get the chance to do a test.) That’s a lot of memory, which means that for most people, the internal memory will be more than sufficient. However, you can still use the memory card for backup of all those files. You can go into File Manager and copy all of your files to the compact flash card for a backup.

You can also use a compact flash memory card to simply transfer files back and forth from a PC. You simply save the file (or copy it) to the memory card. It is saved as a standard txt file. You then pop the card into a memory card reader on your computer and copy the file. You can then open it in whatever program you wish. It will, however, have to be resaved as a txt file for the QuickPAD Pro to be able to retrieve it and read it.

You can also go the other way quite easily. You can copy any txt file on your computer to the memory card and then open it on your QuickPAD Pro. Note that it is also possible to transfer files to a PC via the infrared receiver. The QuickPAD Pro comes with an infrared pod that you plug into any computer. You aim the QuickPAD Pro at that receiver and press “send.” The NEO has this same functionality, of course.

Finally, the QuickPAD Pro can also “send” a file to a computer via a USB cable. Just as with the NEO, you attach the QuickPAD Pro to any computer with the provided USB cable. Then you open any kind of text window on the computer. This can be in Microsoft Word, Notepad, Wordpad, an email program, your blog, a comment window on Flickr, essentially any window in which text can be entered. Then you press “send” and the QuickPAD Pro “types” the entire file into that open window on your computer. The QuickPAD Pro is essentially functioning as a keyboard emulator, just as the NEO does.

I haven’t done an official test, but the QuickPAD Pro seems to retype files at a much faster pace than the NEO. As the NEO “sends” the file to a computer, I can read along as it types and keep up with it. I can’t keep up with the QuickPAD Pro. It types too fast. That would be an advantage when transferring files to dodgy computers in Internet cafes around the world.

When you connect the QuickPAD Pro to a computer using the USB cable (to “send” a file through the keyboard emulator), it connects to the computer automatically. There is no need to install any kind of program. Therefore, it can be used with any computer. The NEO also does not require any kind of program to be installed. I’ve attached the NEO to a wide range of computers and never had a problem. It always worked flawlessly. So far, the QuickPAD Pro works well with my home computer, but I haven’t used it with any other computer.

A very interesting aspect of the QuickPAD Pro is that it basically operates in a DOS environment. The word processing program, spreadsheet program, contact list, and file manager all operate as programs running on top of DOS. As such, using the QuickPAD Pro is more like using a standard computer. To start writing, you have to select “Word Processor” and then open a file or create a new file. If you create a file, you have to give that new file a name (with the standard DOS 8-character limit). Changes are also not saved automatically. You are prompted to save the file (and thus save your changes) when you exit the file. You can also press Ctrl-s to save the file at any point while you are writing.

All the standard text-editing keyboard commands are available on the QuickPAD Pro: Ctrl-A (select all) Ctrl-C (copy) Ctrl-X (cut) Ctrl-V (paste) Home (go to start of line), End (go to end of line), Ctrl-Home (go to start of file), Ctrl-End (go to end of file), Find/Search, etc. Just like a computer, when something goes badly wrong, the unit can hang. You can then reboot it with Ctrl-Alt-Del. This has never happened to me when using the QuickPAD Pro normally. The one time I had problems was when inserting the 128-megabyte compact flash card. For whatever reason, the QuickPAD Pro couldn’t locate it, and it froze. I had to use Ctrl-Alt-Del to reset it. After resetting, the unit was back to normal and presented me with the top-level menu of programs as usual.

It’s possible to exit the top-level program and go directly to DOS. You do this by pressing Ctrl-Enter. Then you get a standard DOS prompt. One difference, however, is that there is no blinking cursor. For someone used to DOS from the old days, it’s weird to see a DOS prompt without a blinking cursor. I understand that it’s possible, though, to track down a program that will give you a blinking cursor. There are four drives on the QuickPAD Pro: A: B: C: and D: The A: drive is a ROM drive of 1.4 megabytes. All the system programs are stored here. The B: drive is a flash drive of 1.9 megabytes. All the files you create are stored here. The C: drive is a RAM drive of 256 kilobytes. The unit stores open files here, including, I assume any txt files you are working on. The D: drive is mapped to the compact flash memory card slot. (To those unfamiliar with this terminology, this might sound very scary, but you don’t need to know any of this or even be aware of it to use the QuickPAD Pro. All this happens behind the scenes. To use the QuickPAD Pro, you simply turn it on, choose a file, and start typing.)

When you press Ctrl-Enter and get the DOS prompt, you can use DOS commands, such as Format D: to format the memory card in the memory card slot. You can also copy and delete files, make and delete directories, and view contents of directories using standard DOS commands. You can also modify system files, and work with batch (bat) files and config.sys files, etc. Of course, it’s best not to if you don’t know what you’re doing. These are the files running the QuickPAD Pro and its programs, and if you modify them or delete them, the QuickPAD Pro’s program might just stop working.

Posted by Doug Nienhuis on 2011-03-08 00:51:33

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