#((jeremy: finds comfort in michael / me: grabs my heart))

[ladyseidr]

@florietiae asked: ❝ is it because you like me so much ? / mike @ jeremy! ❞ ( fic sentence starters )

The question was met with a near immediate grin, Jeremy's spot stretched out across the bed granting him a warm patch of sun through the partly-open window. "How'd you know?" He settled his hands behind his head, eyes drifting shut despite the smile still tugging at his lips. Content. Comfortable.

"I know you're tryin' to be funny, but you're not wrong." He had liked Michael from the moment he saw him, a gut feeling only sharpened by actually getting to know him. "I bet you could talk me into anything." He was joking now, but only partly. One set of eyelids peeking open in Mike's direction, he added, "Michael Afton, you're going to be the death of me. Just make sure it's a fun time."

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.7

wow it took 30 years didnt it. i did it, fuckers. please give me attention-

anyway, heres the final part :) do i know how to proofread? no. thats it thats all i was gonna say, i just dont know how to proofread.

warnings: uhhh none i dont think

                                                            -

              In the middle of August, the Ninja Sex Party dropped their newest album “Cool Patrol” and the two of you were in love. You were in Jeremy’s room, lying on his bed beside him sharing headphones as the album played, and it all felt so teenage rom-com that Jeremy was half-distracted the entire time by you and lost different lyrics because of that. “Orgy for One” played and you nudged Jeremy before mouthing “you” to him with a playful look in your eyes and a smile that set his heart racing. He laughed, and nudged you back just as playful before the beginning to “Danny Don’t You Know” brought the two of you back into reality. He was emotional, and so were you, and there was something about sharing an emotion with someone that was intimate enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

             Your phone buzzed after a while, and you sat up, pulling an earbud out. “Fuck, Jeremy-” You stood up quickly, scrambling to get your things together, “-my cousins were coming over to do that picture thing since we didn’t get a chance before - I gotta go, alright? I’ll text you in a bit.”

             He wouldn’t remember what he said to you, or the dumb joke you made as you were leaving his room. He would remember how the minute you left, he added “Heart Boner” onto your playlist with a devious little smile as if he were getting away with something. Just a little joke between friends. After all - you had that little moment together, how could he not not? 

                                                            -

             An hour after you left, Michael showed up with a plastic bag filled with Chinese takeout for three - eyes widening when he saw your absence. His smile fell as he looked towards the bag in his hand, frowning slightly as he began to delve into his thoughts. For what felt like minutes, the two boys just sat there in silence as Michael finally untied the bag to pass his friend his portion of their meal, frustration evident in the way he furrowed his brow and refused to look him in the eye.

             “They had a family thing,” Jeremy said. “Didn’t [y/n] text you?”

             “No,” Michael said, “they did not. I said I was coming with food and-”

             “It’s tradition,” Jeremy countered. “Y’know? It’s that little... sign-picture-thing. Some sort of family tradition their parents started when they were little.”

             Michael rolled his eyes at the sappy expression crossing his best friend’s face as he placed what had been your meal on the dresser, before collapsing back onto his bed - tilting his head back to maintain eye contact. “That’s cute and all, but what do I do with their orange chicken?”

             He shrugged, turning back to his computer to close out Spotify. “I dunno - we can go by their house later and see if they want it.”

             He heard his comforter shift and assumed that Michael rolled over onto his stomach. “But I have egg rolls for them,” he whined, voice muffled slightly by what Jeremy could only guess was Michael laying his face in his hands.

             A quick booting down of his computer. He shrugged again, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Just don’t eat them?”

             The moment of silence could have killed a man. “Jeremiah.”

             He spun to face him. “Michael.”

             They maintained eye contact for a moment, before Michael shifted so that he was now sitting up - pulling the plastic bag closer to him. “So did you two fuck yet?”

             A thousand broken words slipped past his lips as Jeremy struggled to say something - a question, a swear, something that didn’t make him look stupid. “Why would you ask that!?” he tried to ignore the way his voice raised an octave.

             Meanwhile, Michael seemed to have no problem with disregarding his panic. “So you haven’t.”

             “Uh. No? We’re just friends?”

             “You sure?” Michael asked, not even giving him the chance to answer as he looked away. “I don’t know, dude, you’ve been pining for a fuckin’ while now. Why don’t you just ask them out?”

             “I don’t like-” he paused, before shaking his head. If Michael knew, then he knew - there really wasn’t any point in denying it any further. “I don’t know, I like Christine still-”

             “You can like more than one person at a time, Jeremiah.”

             “I know, but...” “I don’t even know if they like me still.”

             “Dude. Bro. Homie. Broseidon. Buddy. They wanna fuck.”

             “Michael!” 

             “They’re at least interested in you,” he said with a mere shrug of indifference, “do you just not see how they look at you?”

             “I don’t-” Jeremy started, and then he stopped, the words he wanted to say sticky and catching in his throat like honey. “I don’t think-” He paused, shutting his eyes, “Michael, I don’t know why they’d still be into me. Like... they did the whole...” He tapped at his temple, “thing because of me.” He hesitated. That wasn’t entirely true, was it? “Or... they did it slightly because of me. I just - I don’t think they’d, uh, y’know... want anything to do with me like that.” 

             There was understanding in Michael’s eyes, lit up before he looked away to the carton in his hand. He dug through it with chopsticks, letting out a sigh, “Dude, I get that, but... they like you, dumbass.”

             Jeremy laughed it off. “Yeah, sure.”

             “I mean it!” Michael countered, before dropping the topic, “I’m gonna eat your food if you don’t.”

             “What-” Jeremy popped open his order, “fine, okay - but this conversation isn’t over, Michael.” 

             “Mhm. You’ll accept it later.”

             “That’s not what I meant!”

             “You really suck at hiding your feelings, y’know?”

             “Michael!”

                                                            -

             Two weeks later, and Jeremy wasn’t sure how to feel. 

             There were strings of these little... moments between the two of you. He realized how much time he was spending over at your house after Michael teased him over it, how often the two of you studied together and how flustered he’d get when you were close to him, how many times he found himself grabbing your favorite candy from gas stations just to make you smile. One Sunday night, he was sitting at the end of your bed with a pillow hugged to his chest, spending another night at your house while Michael was off spending time with his family (not that Jeremy wouldn’t have been there otherwise - he stayed over every now and then just because he wanted to. Movie nights were good. Dinner was good. Being around you was good). You sat at your desk, legs crossed awkwardly in your chair in a position that looked uncomfortable to him but you showed no signs of discomfort as you continued to draw. The two of you had been talking, and Jeremy had just sat there fascinated with watching you draw after years of not recognizing your progress.

             A question hit the air, heavy and loaded. “Would you have taken it?” You didn’t move to face him, the soft sound of your tablet pen tapping back against the surface as you scroll out and fumble giving away any nerves. “The... the SQUIP,” you went to clarify.

             But he understood, and he spoke quick: “no.” He shifted slightly, holding the pillow closer to himself, “not after what it did to you.”

             “But if you hadn’t known,” you said, pausing for a moment to gather your thoughts, “if... if it had been you, would you have done it?”

             “I mean... I don’t think-”

             “You can say yes, Jeremy,” you finally looked back at him. “I’m not gonna be mad or anything.”

             His shoulders slumped slightly, a bit relieved of the thought. “Okay, then... yeah. I mean, yeah - who wouldn’t?”

             You turned back to your work. “Yeah. Yeah, right? It sounds good. Like... you have a pill that’ll solve everything and tell you the right moves to make... who wouldn’t want that?”

             That’s when Jeremy realized you’d been doubting yourself. Blaming yourself for saying yes. “I think a lot of people would have taken it.” 

             “Yeah... I think so, too.” You stopped drawing after a moment, turning around fully to face him, “can I confess something?”

             He nodded slowly. “Oh. Uh. Yeah, sure?”

             “I don’t keep the Mountain Dew Red because I’m scared it’ll come back and destroy everything and leave me fucked,” you said in a rush of words, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest but... I think it’s better this way.”

             “Hey, no,” Jeremy reached out, fingers brushing over your shoulder. “Michael and I would find more.” 

             You fumbled with your pen, it falling to the floor as you swore softly under your breath. Jeremy reached for it just as you did, foreheads clashing in cliche fashion as you immediately push back. A moment later, he offered your tablet pen back to you.

             He spoke after you took it. “Hey, uh, c’mere for a minute.”

             So you dropped your pen onto your desk and pulled your chair over to the bed. Uncharacteristically calm and soft, he took one of your hands in a motion less Jeremy and more... you... you weren’t sure. It wasn’t entirely Jeremy, that much was confirmed.

             “There was this stuff that mom used to way when I was a kid,” he said quietly, dragging his thumb over your knuckles. “It was this whole...thing about how the ‘loudest voice has to be yours’ when you’re doubting yourself and shit - I don’t know, it just kinda stuck with me and... I’m glad I’ve gotten to know you, because you’re... different? Like - you keep going, and, uh, you’re a big nerd who laughs at my stupid jokes and... I’m glad you’re you, I guess?” 

             You cracked a small smile as you pulled back from him. Before he can question whether he crossed a line, you answer, “I’m saving this. I can’t focus on art with your sappy ass saying shit like that.” You stood, tucking your chair under your desk as you sat on your bed. “Fuckin’ sweet dork,” you mumbled as you pulled Jeremy into a hug.

             He stiffened up for a moment, only to wrap his arms around you after a moment. He smiled into your shoulder, saying a muffled “Shut up” into it as you giggled.

             You pulled away with a smile. “Why don’t you make me, Jeremy?”

             One of his biggest regrets was not asking to kiss you right then and there.

                                                           -

            Days later, you were in his room for once, sitting on his bed beside him. You were tired, far more than he was, looking at math problems that were blurry to you as you stifled back another yawn. Jeremy had stretched out, awkwardly leaning against his headboard as he tried to stay away until you finally resigned for the night - shutting your notebook and tossing it towards your backpack with a noisy clamor. You leaned against him, mumbling words long forgotten into his shoulder - likely about hating numbers - only to whine when he sat forward a moment later. Soon enough, he returned to be your pillow once more, laughing softly as you curled into his side contently and making some joke about how you only wanted him around for this reason.

            “Nope,” you had hummed, “too bony. Bad pillow.” 

            He snorted a little, reaching up to tuck back a strand of hair out of place. “You seem happy.”

            “I am,” you hummed. “Since it’s you.”

            He reached up, gently tugging you closer to him in order to worm an arm around you. “You’re tired.”

            “Mhm.”

            “Sorry I kept you up.”

            “That’s okay,” you mumbled into his shoulder, shifting slightly to be closer to him. “Math is stupid.”

            “It’s not stupid,” he countered, “you just aren’t good at it.”

            “Thus making it stupid, Jeremiah.”

            Eventually, you went quiet. At first, Jeremy thought you’d fallen asleep, but you sat forward slightly, looking up at him and it was almost like there had been magnetism between you. You had leaned forward, and he gently reached up to guide your face to his, and the two of you kissed for a soft, quiet moment. Soon enough, you had drawn away and cuddled back up to him. He wasn’t sure if he fell asleep first, but he remembered how warm you felt against him and he remembered feeling nothing but warmth in his chest as he eventually dozed off.

            There were a few things that hit Jeremy when he woke up. The pain in his back from falling asleep half-sitting against the headboard of his bed, the weight on him that confused him for a moment for a millisecond before he felt your hot breath tickling his skin, face buried in his neck. Then the memory of the night before - of a clumsy kiss he’d been craving for so long, and the way you kissed back and maybe that was his imagination? He wasn’t sure, but the thought was enough to nearly make him jolt - but you were enough to keep him as still as he could be. He looked at how peaceful you looked, and he felt his heart swell at just how warm you were against him and the memory of your lips haunted him as he felt his skin grow hotter. If remembering kissing you was enough to make him completely flustered, anything more would probably kill him.

            Eventually, you woke up, groggy and sleep-ridden still at first as you sat forward and rubbed at your face. “Jeremy, I hate to break it to you-” You paused, yawning, “-but you aren’t a great pillow.”

            He chuckled at that, sitting forward. “Hey, uh... sorry to, uh, ask, but, uh, do... do you remember anything about last night...?”

            You stared at him, uncertain at first before you thought back on what had happened. You threw your notebook at your bag. And then... It came back to you, striking you hard and fast. “Oh.”

            “I- I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I just - I was tired and I wasn’t thinking and I shouldn’t have...” 

            And he slowly trailed off when he saw the way you were looking at him, voice caught in his throat as your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and then back. He heard you whisper something - “fuck it,” he was pretty sure - before you started going in for another kiss - and he leaned forward to meet you halfway, a hand sliding into your hair as you grow closer to him. The night before had been gentle, sleep-ridden and warm - and now the two of you are awake and clumsy and so wonderfully alive during this messy kiss. His teeth had clashed against yours, your forehead bumped against his, but you correct. A little less force, a little more gentleness, a changing of an angle - the tiny ways to make things better and less awkward.

            In a bold move you definitely didn’t expect, Jeremy’s hand falls to your hips, pulling you closer to him by your belt loops (a cruel reminder that you were asleep in jeans). His kisses grew slightly more frantic, more hungry, more needy - the tiniest little whimper slipping past his lips once you finally pull yourself back, breathing softly as you stared at him. His hand slipped back to your jaw, thumb grazing your jawline slowly and gentle.

            “Jeremy?” you whispered, staring at him, “wait, you-”

            “I... I know we were gonna try to be friends, but... I think I like you.”

            You stared at him, flustered as he tore his gaze away from yours - a pretty rosy hue decorating his skin, blotchy and creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears. 

            “I, uh, I mean, I didn’t... I never planned on, uh... I just - I don’t - I, uh, I think you’re... a big nerd. You... you laugh with me and you, uh, you care about things - and you... you remember things about me - and, uh, other people do but... you’re just... you’re different.” He trailed a thumb across your skin. “You... feel like home. Even, uh, even if this... doesn’t really go anywhere, I - I’m glad that I know you and- I understand if you don’t, uh, don’t actually want this to go anywhere but-”

            And you laughed. At first his stomach dropped, anxiety taking over as he grew nervous over the thought of you rejecting him - but something about the way you laughed made his heart flutter, one hand steadying yourself on his shoulder while the other hid your face.

            “I... I don’t really know how to explain it better, but... can I, uh, can I kiss you again?”

            And you laughed again, reaching up to brush back hair from his face. “Yes, Jeremy. You can kiss me again.”

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 4  (Calum Hood AU)

I WORKED THE very next day, and to say Mack threw me right into the thick of things would be a massive understatement.  Roger was working again, and Mack tasked him with teaching me how to make the most basic of coffees before setting me loose.  They really were swamped; the morning rush lasted well into lunchtime.  I knew how to use a cash register fairly well, so for a while Roger and I divided the duties.  Once things died down for a brief period, he showed me the more complex drinks, each one more confusing than the next.

“You’ll get it,” he told me encouragingly when I’d added too much foam to an espresso.  I put my hands on my hips and blew out a sigh.

“I’ve always been told I brew some killer coffee,” I explained.  “This should be natural.”

Roger chuckled, swiping a rag through some mugs.  I liked him; he was easy-going even under pressure, but knew when to be firm with the difficult customers.  He said that all their best baristas had quit recently to go back to school, and that Mack was left swamped.  

“You’re not in school?” I asked, getting someone’s chai latte ready.  This was one drink I was fairly good at concocting.

He scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  I could never do that college shit.  I’d much rather work at a place like this and do my art on the side.”  Roger did art commissions for people that were actually pretty amazing; he was like Picasso with spray paint.  I admired his confidence in his work, even though any parent would be terrified if their kid wanted to be a freelance artist.  But Roger believed in his talent, and didn’t let anyone convince him otherwise.

There were only two people left in the shop and they’d both been served, so Roger decided to take a quick break.  He said it would be my first “test run” to see how well I did on my own.  I rolled my eyes at his mock salute, but inside I was a nervous wreck.  I wanted to do well--no, needed to.  I needed something to go right for me.

Five minutes passed with no new customers, and I smiled at the thought of not serving anyone while Roger was gone.  Unfortunately, my prayers weren’t answered as the little bell tingled, signaling someone’s arrival.

A tall, chestnut-haired guy approached the register, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin as he examined the chalkboard menu above my head.  I fought the flush that wanted to rise to my cheeks; he was cute, with dark jeans and a casual blazer that probably meant he had a complex coffee order ready to go.

He sent me a shining smile.  “Hey, could I get a cappuccino?”

I huffed, and his expression turned quizzical.  “Sorry,” I answered quickly.  “This is my first day, and the last cappuccino I made...wasn’t great.”

“Should I order something else?  How ‘bout a french roast with cream?”  I appreciated his sense of humor at my inexperience.

I narrowed my eyes playfully.  “Oh no, I’m gonna make you that cappuccino.  Whether it will be edible is still up in the air.”

He laughed, and I noted the way his hazel eyes crinkled when he did this.  

“Can I have a name for the order?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy,” I repeated, and he grinned before taking a seat at the window bar.  Inhaling deeply, I turned to start making the cappuccino.  Espresso, steamed milk, foam.  How hard could it be?

Harder than I thought, apparently.  The drink I ended up concocting was way too milky and overflowing with foam.  I felt my face redden as I presented it to Jeremy, who examined it carefully.

“I know, it’s terrible.  But I did warn you.”

He went to pick up the mug, the crinkles by his eyes returning.  “Are you kidding?  This is absolutely exceptional.  I think I’ll have to come back tomorrow if you keep up this fine work.”

My face hurt from smiling so wide.  “Well, I’ll be here, probably burning some coffee beans or spilling milk.”

I was disappointed to see Jeremy leave once he’d finished his coffee, and Roger materialized behind me when the front door finally shut.

“How do you already have cute guys hitting on you?  And I got a glimpse of that cappuccino, it was awful.”

“He must have had to choke it down,” I joked, giddy at the thought of seeing Jeremy again.  “

Roger rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m guessing it wasn’t that hard to pretend to like it.  Cute baristas have that effect; you’re great for business, you know.”

I pushed his arm playfully, and Roger flipped me off.  

My first day and I already loved this new job.  The rest of my shift took up the majority of the day, until the sun had started to sink below the horizon.  I hung up my apron on the hook in the back room and said goodbye to Mack before walking out into the cool city air.

The grin on my face refused to cease throughout the whole bus ride back home, and I practically sprinted to the house.  Maybe things were finally looking up for me.  If I channeled all of my energy into work and school my life might finally get back on track, the way it was meant to be.

I wanted to burst right through the front door, but even before I reached the porch I could hear yelling from inside.  Muffled shouts were coming from the kitchen, and as I slowly stepped into the foyer the voices became clearer.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”  This was Ashton, and his voice was raised in obvious frustration.

“I was thinking about myself and what was best for me.  College was way fucking harder than I thought it would be.”  My blood ran cold at Hannah’s response.  What did Ashton find out?  Who told him about Hannah’s secret, and did he know about mine?

Quickly joining them in the kitchen, I noticed Luke and Michael in the living room, looking like they wanted to melt into the sofa.  I sent them a confused glance, and the subtle shake of Luke’s head told me how serious this was.

Upon seeing me, Ashton turned his attention away from Hannah, scowl deepening.  “Did you know about this?”

I swallowed roughly, trying to read the message behind Hannah’s pleading eyes.  “Um, know about what?”  It was a stupid attempt at a bluff, and Ashton saw right through it.

“That Hannah isn’t home from school on a break, she’s home permanently.”

My mouth opened slightly in an attempt to respond, but Ashton cut me off.

“I mean, why would you leave a university like that?  With everything you could have achieved there?”

This caused my brow to furrow.  So he thought she left on her own, when in reality she was kicked out.  I slid my gaze over to Hannah’s, and she communicated through a silent expression of desperation.

Don’t say anything, she seemed to be begging.  Go with it.

I gave the smallest, most imperceptible I could.  It was Hannah’s secret to reveal, and I wasn’t going to drive a deeper wedge between her and Ashton.

All of a sudden I felt someone come up behind me, and knew without looking it was Calum.  I glanced over, and his dark eyes met mine briefly.  He was much closer than I thought he needed to be, his chest practically touching my shoulder.  Biting my lip, I faced forward again and tried to ignore his soft exhales on my neck.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, Hannah said in a clipped tone, “Ashton, with all due fucking respect, you never went to college.  You have no idea what it’s like, so I don’t understand why you think you get an opinion.”

Ashton looked ready to punch a hole through the drywall.  “For fuck’s sake, Hannah, because I care about you!  College was supposed to help your future, so what the hell are you supposed to do now?”

This silenced her.  I felt so bad for Hannah; knowing it was all her fault, that she failed so abysmally in her classes and was forced to come home.  She was smart, just not in the typical bookish sense that a university demanded.  I wished I could give her some of mine, because I certainly couldn’t use it right now.

Inhaling shakily, she bawled her fists.  “Ashton.”  Her voice was so weak I thought she was about to cry.  “My future is going to be just fine without you freaking out over it, okay?”

Ashton scoffed, hands on his hips and eyes blazing.  I prayed he just let go of his anger at being lied to, and went over to comfort Hannah.  Yes, she was still lying to him now, which would certainly blow up later, but she needed support.  

My prayers were answered when Ashton let out a defeated exhale and wrapped his arms around Hannah’s smaller frame.  The two of them practically dissolved into each other, breathing together as one.

After a minute they separated, and Ashton cleared his throat.  “We’re gonna go back to my place, spend the night.”

Michael and Luke just nodded, and Calum walked out from behind me to join them in the living room.  As Hannah passed by me, she grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.  “Thank you,” she murmured.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process everything.  I felt Calum’s eyes on me, and instantly my heart stopped.  He’d seen Hannah say something, which meant he knew our answers were bullshit.

I felt trapped by his deep brown gaze, completely immobile and at his disposal.  The cogs in his brain were so clearly turning, and I was terrified he would say something.

But then the moment ended, and he looked away, releasing me from his clutches.  

After getting myself a glass of water and grabbing my school bag I collapsed onto a chair at the kitchen table.  Michael grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the stainless steel door.

“Crazy,” he commented, head shaking in disbelief.

“It was like my parents were arguing,” Luke said, shuddering.  “But those two could get through anything, seriously.”

Calum remained quiet, of course, but his expression was thoughtful as ever.

“Hey, how’d your first day go?" Luke asked.  “Did you show them your killer coffee skills?”

I chuckled, flipping a pencil between my fingers to relieve some of my pent up anxiety.  “Turns out my skills are less than killer.  I can brew some great black coffee, but no one really orders that.  I think it’ll be really good, though.  The people are great, and the customers were actually nice.”  My thoughts drifted to Jeremy, and a small smile danced across my lips.  “I have an early shift tomorrow though, 7am.”

“Rough,” Michael replied.  “Godspeed, I won’t be awake till noon.”

I chuckled, and was surprised when Calum finally spoke up.  “The customers are nice until you screw up someone’s triple shot macchiato and they flip their shit on you.”

I bit my lip, dreading that scenario.  “I’ll, uh, try to avoid that.”

Calum nodded, and with that he disappeared from the kitchen.

Pulling books out of my bag, started mentally organizing the work I had to do.  Luke and Michael went off to bed, Michael opting for the futon downstairs since Ashton and Hannah had left.

I was alone in the kitchen, trying desperately to focus on the study of neurological activity in the sleeping brain, but I just couldn’t get my mind off of Hannah.  We were both lying to everyone we cared about, and sooner or later the truth would come out.  I wasn’t prepared to face the music about my parents, though, and the last thing I wanted was people finding out I was destitute.  If I could just hold on a little longer, work for a while and keep studying, everything would be fine.

The hardest part would be putting up with Calum.  He was so cold and brooding, and clearly had no respect for personal space as I learned tonight by how close he stood to me.  I could still feel the tickle of his breath on my neck, and raised a hand to gently rub the skin.

- - - - -

I had no idea I’d fallen asleep at the table until someone was shaking me awake.  My eyes blinked open, blurry from sleep and disorientation.  It was still dark out, and I wondered who would be up at this hour.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice gravelly.  I rubbed my eyes and made out Calum’s figure standing next to me, arms folded with a frown.

“Would you rather I let you sleep through your shift?  It’s 5:30, and I know you’ve got a bus to catch.  And, you know, take like an hour just getting ready.”  Before I could process what he said he turned away from me to fiddle with something in the cupboard.

I was slightly shocked.  Calum remembered when my shift was?  And cared enough to wake me up?  I had no idea what to make of this, and was too tired to work it through.

“Thanks.”  I yawned and began to load my books back into my bag, moving slowly as my body was weighed down with exhaustion.

“I think the point is to read the books, not use them as pillows,” Calum criticized.

Scowling at his attitude, I ripped the zipper a little harshly, causing him to actually look over.  

“I was reading them,” I rebutted.  “I just...got tired I guess.”

“Aren’t college kids supposed to be responsible and organized?”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He crossed his arms, body language defensive.  “I’m just saying, you’re the one who fell asleep and almost missed your shift.  I’d say that’s pretty irresponsible.”

Sighing loudly, I rubbed my temples to try and banish the slight ache in my brain.  “It is way too early for this stupid argument,” I muttered.

“We’re not arguing, I’m just telling you.” 

“Yeah, well, thanks for telling me I’m disorganized and irresponsible.  Got anything else to say, or can I get ready for work now?”

I stood up and started towards the stairs, glaring his way.  Calum just shrugged, smug expression painted across his stupid face. 

“Nope, wouldn’t want to make you late.”  I was tempted to slap the sardonic smirk right off his face, but opted instead to leave him alone in the kitchen.

I took a quick shower and made myself look presentable as possible, changing into work clothes and grabbing my bag before quickly escaping out the front door.  I didn’t feel like running into Calum again after his wonderful wake up call.

Work was busy in the beginning, and Roger and I struggled to keep up for a while.  But our rhythm from yesterday finally kicked in, and with each drink I served I felt more and more confident.  When the rush ended, the two of us high-fived and let out triumphant exhales of relief.

“You know, Scarlett, you and I make a good team.”

I grinned at Roger, overjoyed at how quickly I was picking up new skills.  I just hoped Mack was impressed enough to give me the job in two weeks.

Before I could answer him, the bell jingled.  I recognized Jeremy’s chestnut hair immediately, and suppressed a squeal of excitement.  Just what I need, I thought giddily.

When Jeremy approached the counter I made sure to look calm and collected.  He smiled that winning smile, and I felt my knees go weak.

“Told you I’d be back,” he said.

“What can I mess up for you today?  A latte maybe?  I’m getting good at screwing those up,” I informed him with a laugh, and I was glad to see the crinkles by his eyes return.

“Actually,” he began, making my heart somersault with worry.  “I’m not here for coffee.  I’m here for you.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I hoped my face didn’t betray my secret exhilaration.

“Really?” I responded, pressing my lips together.  “And why is that?”

“Normally, I take girls out to places like this on a first date,” he said, and I was hanging on to every word.  “But seeing as you’re probably sick of it, how ‘bout we skip that part and go straight to dinner?”

My face broke into a wide smile, and I was almost too excited to reply.  “That’s really considerate of you,” I joked.  “Dinner sounds amazing.”

Jeremy actually looked relieved, like he was nervous I’d say no.  As if anyone could say no to that face.

“Great, that’s great.  How about tonight?  I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“Sure, give me your phone and I’ll add my number.”  He passed it over, and I fought to keep my fingers steady.  Handing it back, we smiled at each other like idiots.

“See you tonight, Scarlett,” he said, and I watched him disappear out of the cafe all the way down the street.

I turned to see Roger gaping at me like I had three heads.

“What?”

“How come no one hits on me like that?” he pouted.  

I tapped my cheek in contemplation.  “Maybe it’s those spike earrings?  They’re wildly intimidating.”

Roger snorted, and waved his hand at me dismissively.  “Oh shut up.  You’re about to bounce of the walls you’re so happy.”

“Hell yeah I am.”

[fanficshiddles]

His ray of sunshine, Chapter 20

Tom, Michael and Charlie explained everything to Luke, Jessica and Keira. It was a calm evening, with them all accepting Charlie with open arms and ease. He just had a calming vibe about him, too.

‘Are you sure you’re really blind?’ Keira blurted out after watching Charlie go to the bathroom and return, picking his drink back up again with ease.

‘Keira.’ Tom said lowly.

‘It’s ok.’ Charlie chuckled. ‘I rather people don’t tiptoe around me being blind. It doesn’t affect me in the slightest anymore, and I don’t mind questions.’ He smiled. ‘I am blind, yes. But I can also see so clearly now, not like you do, but my hearing is very extensive and I can feel and sense everything around me.’

‘That’s pretty cool. I guess any kind of sense being taken away, it would make others more highly tuned.’ She smiled at him.

‘It certainly does.’ Charlie nodded.

Charlie was amazed how the omegas were so outspoken, and the Alphas allowed it. Tom and his pack were truly nothing like society wanted them to be. He knew he was definitely going to be right at home with them. He couldn’t wait to meet the others that were back home.

The group ended up going out for food and a few drinks. Tom explained to Charlie that they were also in London to look for two omegas, explaining about Luke and Jeremy’s predicament.

‘Well, if we ask any omegas about it, I can tell if they’re lying or not.�� He suggested.

‘That would be super handy.’ Luke grinned. ‘Because we know that they won’t open up to us straight away. They will lie to us. Knowing those that lie straight away will be very handy.’

‘Exactly. We have a much better advantage now.’ Tom smiled.

Tom could tell that Keira was still a bit anxious. They were in a busy-ish pub, lots of Alphas and omegas going around. She was so used to back home at the lake now, and she grew up on a quiet street too. London was completely new for her.

They’d finished eating so had moved to a more comfortable area of the bar, in a corner booth. Tom took Keira on his lap, to make space for everyone around the table but mainly so he could comfort her.

‘Are you doing alright, love?’ He asked quietly.

‘Yeah. It’s just, really busy here. Different.’ She said as she looked around the place, taking everything in.

There were some rowdy drunk Alphas stottering about, Tom tightened his arm around his omega and he was prepared to leap into action if needed. But it wasn’t, they didn’t go near any groups and just kept to themselves.

Charlie had been talking, telling them a bit about his past when he suddenly stopped and tilted his head to the side slightly.

Tom, Michael and Luke looked at one another, confused.

‘Are you ok?’ Tom asked.

Charlie opened his mouth but said nothing, he was deep in concentration for a moment. ‘Someone’s adrenaline is running high. An Alpha, at the end of the bar?’ He looked at Tom.

Tom looked over Charlie’s shoulder towards the bar and he did see an Alpha drinking alone. He noticed that the Alpha did glance over in their direction every now and then, when he spotted Tom was watching him his heart rate spiked.

‘I think we best go somewhere else.’ Tom said and looked to Michael, who nodded in agreement.

Keira was feeling even more nervous now, not knowing what was going on. Tom was on edge too, he didn’t like not knowing what that Alpha was doing there. But he was obviously interested in him and his pack for some reason.

Tom helped Keira with her coat and gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, love. It’s probably nothing.’ He said quietly to her, kissing her cheek.

He took her hand and the pack left the pub. They started making their way back to the hotel, but Charlie was still distracted. He moved in closer to Tom. ‘He’s following us.’

Tom looked round and saw that Charlie was right. The guy from the bar was following them. Michael shared a look with Tom.

‘Luke, Michael, take Keira and Jessica back to the hotel.’ Tom said and the two Alphas nodded.

Keira looked up at Tom, worried. But he pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Go on, I won’t be long.’ He promised her.

Luke, Michael, Keira and Jessica carried on back to the hotel. Tom and Charlie turned and faced the man who was following, he stopped dead when he saw the two Alphas stop. They stared each other down, then when Tom and Charlie started to approach him, he turned and started running in the other direction.

Tom and Charlie broke out into a run and soon caught up with him. Charlie grabbed him and hauled him down an alley, Tom then wrapped his hand around his throat and pinned him to the wall.

‘Who are you?’ He snarled in his face.

The Alpha didn’t say anything, so Tom pulled him away from the wall then shoved him hard against it again. ‘WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING US?’ He roared at the Alpha.

‘Ok… ok… I was paid to follow you and your pack!’ The Alpha said quickly.

Tom turned his head to look at Charlie, who nodded. The guy was telling the truth.

‘By who?’ Tom asked, not letting up with the grip on his neck.

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘Lies!’ Charlie growled. ‘Tell us the truth, or it will be harder on yourself.’

Tom narrowed his eyes at the Alpha, he could feel him shaking.

‘Alright… His name, is Ben, I think.’

Tom snarled and let go of the Alpha. Then he punched the wall right by the Alphas head, making him jump and cover his head.

‘WHAT DOES HE WANT?’ Tom pushed hard on his chest, just when he thought he was getting off lightly.

‘I don’t… I don’t know. I was just to report back to him about your whereabouts and find out why you were here!’

‘TELL ME WHAT HE WANTS?!’ Tom roared, getting right into his face.

‘He’s telling the truth, Tom.’ Charlie said firmly, to get through to Tom before he lost it completely. Charlie didn’t know about Ben, but it was clear that there was history or Tom wouldn’t be so angry.

Tom snarled and reluctantly let go of the man, he turned around and stroked his beard in thought. The other man thought he was safe now, but Tom suddenly spun back around and punched him in the jaw. ‘You can pass that on to Ben. And if I ever see your face again you will be face down in the gutter.’

Tom and Charlie left the Alpha groaning in pain from the punch, to go back to the hotel.

‘Who’s Ben?’ Charlie asked on the way back.

‘He used to be in the pack. Challenged me for Keira when she arrived. He’s very… old-fashioned in his views of omegas, yet has his own dark secrets. It was a mistake taking him in, I should never have accepted him. I’ve been worried that he’s up to something, this confirms it.’ Tom sighed.

‘Well, chances are he’s likely starting his own pack. Do you think he will try to challenge you again?’

‘Possibly. Ben doesn’t like to be told no. Even if he has an omega now, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and get Keira, too. Just out of spite.’ Tom said, worried.

‘Well, he will have to get through all of us first. From what I’ve heard, your pack is a force to be reckoned with.’ Charlie smiled.

Tom chuckled. ‘I certainly hope so.’

When the two Alphas returned to the hotel, the others were waiting for them in the bar. Keira rushed straight to Tom and hugged him tightly.

‘Are you ok?’ She asked, looking up at him.

‘Of course I am, little one. Are you?’ Tom smoothed his hand through her hair.

‘Now that you’re back, I am.’ She nodded and hid her face into him.

They sat down and Tom took Keira on his lap again. He buried his face into her hair and breathed in deeply, calming himself down with her scent.

‘It’s Ben.’ He looked over at Michael and Luke, whose eyes widened.

‘Shit. Is he here, in London?’ Luke asked.

‘I don’t think so. He paid that Alpha to spy on us, to try and figure out what we are doing here in the city.’ Tom grumbled.

‘Why is he doing that?’ Jessica asked, looking from Tom to Michael.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think he’s planning to attack, there’s no way he would be physically ready to do so yet. And I doubt he would have an established pack yet either, that can take years to do.’ Tom hummed, in thought. He was rubbing Keira’s back in circles while he spoke. ‘But we will need to be more alert, keep a close eye out. And I think we should head home first thing tomorrow morning… Sorry, Luke.’

‘Don’t be. It’s alright, there’s still future trips to find omegas. Idris has a contact in Glasgow so I’ll go with him next weekend to take a look.’ Luke smiled, though it was still obvious he was a bit gutted.

Even though they all knew it would be difficult to find two omegas anyway, Luke had still been hoping he would’ve had some luck this weekend. Even a lead.

Keira was playing with Tom’s fingers, then she noticed his knuckles on his left hand were red and sore looking.

‘What did you do? Are you ok?’ She asked, looking from his hand to his face.

‘I’m fine, love. Honest.’ He smiled assuringly at her.

Keira frowned at him. ‘But you’re hurt.’ She whispered.

‘It’s nothing.’ Tom chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose.

But Keira wasn’t so convinced. When they all went to their rooms for the night, Keira dragged Tom into the bathroom and started cleaning his knuckles. Tom just sat on the toilet and smiled fondly at her while she sorted him out.

She even found some cream in their bag that she had packed and rubbed it in. Part of her was taking advantage of just being able to touch his hands. Though she knew that she didn’t really need an excuse to touch him.

‘Thank you, my wonderful little omega.’ He purred and slipped his arms around her, pulling her to stand between his legs. She giggled and put her arms around his neck.

‘I don’t want to see you hurt or in pain.’

‘Well, I appreciate it. But I’ve had a lot worse.’ He chuckled. ‘Although it is nice to know I’ve got you to look after me, too.’ He grinned and so did she.

They both moved in and kissed each other softly.

[junietuesday]

During the summer before their freshman year, Michael and Jeremy go camping.

The two of them have been extremely hyped over the weeks leading up to it, because although this is a yearly tradition, this year, Michael’s and Jeremy’s parents decided that since they’re going into high school, they’re old enough to go with only Michael’s older sister as a chaperone. Said older sister has plans with friends nearby, so she agreed to leave them to their own devices as long as they stick to the campgrounds and didn’t blow anything up. Which means Michael and Jeremy had a whole week to themselves.

“Don’t murder anyone, I’ll be back in two days but I’m only a half hour’s drive away,” says Michael’s sister, as Michael and Jeremy climb out of her beat-up 2007 Toyota Corolla. “Do you need help with your bags?”

“Nope,” says Michael, popping the “p” as he circles around to the car’s trunk. “Wait, before you go, take a picture of us here, in case Mom makes sure you’re with us.”

Soon, Michael and Jeremy are starting down the winding path through the forest, which leads to the campgrounds. Michael’s practically bouncing along, looking over at Jeremy with a wide smile.

“This is gonna be so fun,” Michael says brightly, nudging Jeremy with his shoulder, and Jeremy stumbles with a snort. “Like, we can have as many snacks and s’mores as we want and go climbing those huge rocks our parents never let us touch and it’s gonna be so great.”

Jeremy grins, laughing a little, and Michael suddenly notices that his eyes are kinda pretty.

Michael turns and stares back down at the dirt path, smile falling off his face as he frowns, confused.

~

By the time Michael and Jeremy emerge from the forest path into the open campground, Michael has mostly managed to shove that strange blip from his mind as they enter their cabin, the exact same one their parents rent every year. There are two rooms, and usually each family takes one of them, but this time, since Michael and Jeremy are alone, they can share, instead of staying up late in the main area and passing out on the pull-out couch.

Jeremy dumps his backpack and the plastic bag of s’more ingredients on the floor next to the bed closest to the window, flopping onto the mattress and spreading his arms.

“I’m kinda tired from the drive,” he says, as Michael puts his own bag down more gently and moves to sit on the edge of Jeremy’s bed, “but what d’you wanna do tonight?”

Michael’s answer is immediate. “Campfire food!” he exclaims, dropping down next to Jeremy. “I want marshmallows!”

For a few minutes, they’re quiet, just relaxing next to each other. The bed isn’t exactly the most luxurious, but being here next to Jeremy just makes Michael feel…warm. And comfortable.

But soon Michael’s perpetual restlessness wins out, and he sits up and gets out of the bed, tugging Jeremy to his feet. “I know you’re tired but we were literally sitting there for hours so you’ll be fine, I don’t wanna just sit here, let’s go play Uno or something outside.”

“Fine, fine!” Jeremy says, stumbling along as Michael pulls him out the bedroom’s door. “You need to get the cards, y’know.”

“Oh.” Michael stops, and laughs, turning back around to grab the pack from his bag. But as he kneels down to dig through his backpack, his hand sort of feels tingly, and oh, it hits him.

He was holding Jeremy’s hand. Holding Jeremy’s hand makes him feel kinda buzzy.

Michael swallows, shoving that down to deal with later. He finds the pack of Uno cards, along with a standard pack of cards for good measure, and holds the two up, trying for a triumphant grin.

~

“Fuck you, fuck you fuck you!” Jeremy screeches, as Michael puts down a +4 card with a wide smirk.

“Uno!” Michael says as soon as the card drops into the pile, giggling at Jeremy’s groan of misery as he face-plants into the picnic table. “Suck on that!”

They’re in the common area of the camp, playing their games of Uno at a table right next to the lake they’ve managed to snag. It’s not terribly crowded, especially since it’s only the second week of summer and there aren’t a huge amount of cabins available here, so the only people around right now are this family eating ice cream at a table across the field, a person walking around staring at their phone who’s almost definitely playing Pokémon Go, and a man in a gray hoodie leaning against the railing of a deck into the water, which has one of those binocular things you need to stick a quarter in to use.

“You‘re an ass, I hate you,” Jeremy grumbles into the table, and Michael reaches over and ruffles his hair, earning a yelp. “Michael. Don’t touch my hair.”

“Oh, right, you only fantasize about having people whose names rhyme with Bristine Tanigula run their fingers through it,” says Michael, laughing, and Jeremy looks up and glares over his arms.

“What is this, ‘Attack Jeremy Relentlessly Hour’ or something?” Jeremy says. “She’ll never like me anyway.”

Michael frowns. “Don’t say that,” he says, more seriously. “You’re awesome. You just need to, uh, well. Actually talk to her.”

“Like that’ll ever happen,” Jeremy says, dropping his head to the table once again, and though it’s stupid, especially because he brought it up in the first place, Michael’s a little disconcerted at this turn of conversation. There’s only so many different things about his crushes Jeremy can agonize over, and it’s a little exhausting to hear them over and over again, especially in the middle of what was supposed to be their week. But Michael will bear it; he’s not Jeremy’s best friend for nothing, he supposes.

“Besides,” Jeremy continues, voice muffled into his arms, “there’s nothing ‘awesome’ about me. You just say so ‘cause you’re my best friend and you have to.”

“That’s not true,” Michael says. “You appreciate video games. Your laugh and eyes and hair and face are cute—um, I mean a bunch of girls probably think so. You’re funny. You’re smart.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy says, looking up, and Michael can see a genuine smile on his face from the compliments.

Butterflies go through Michael’s stomach.

~

About a trillion more games of Uno later, plus another few million rounds of other card games, the sun has set enough for it to be an appropriate time to make a campfire. It’s evening during early summer, so Michael and Jeremy have to change into long-sleeved shirts, but the weather is still the perfect kind of light and breezy as they pick their way through the woods, searching for sticks for firewood, the perfect roasting sticks, and, just for fun, some big sticks that are good for swords/staffs. The path is thin, unlike the road leading to the campground, and there are fallen trees and their jagged stumps all over that are hard to see in the dim light of the rising moon, but the walk is still relaxing.

The darkness cloaking the late hour and the comfortable chatter of nature and the giddiness from this being their first day allows Michael to say things closer to his heart.

“I’m really happy,” he says during a lull in the conversation, smiling softly to himself as he reaches down to grab more sticks and tuck them under his arm. “This is fun and you’re my favorite.”

“Aw, that’s kinda gay,” Jeremy jokes, but he continues sincerely, “You’re my favorite too.”

For some reason, the words make something in Michael’s chest feel weird.

Michael’s known he’s gay for about a year and a half, now, and that’s only counting when he was finally able to admit it to himself, but he and Jeremy have known about being gay for far longer, thanks to middle school. It’s an all too common occurrence for Michael’s mood to sink slightly when Jeremy calls things gay as a synonym for either “too affectionate” or “stupid”—but he knows what that feels like, and this isn’t that.

“You’re kinda gay,” Michael says, instead of any of that. Jeremy shoves him into the nearest tree, going red.

“Shut up, I bet you’re gay,” Jeremy retaliates, and for a moment, Michael contemplates telling him.

But it goes nowhere, as always. Anyway, this would be an awful time, because they’re stuck together in the middle of a camp two hours away from home, with nowhere for Jeremy to go if he decides that Michael is too gross to hang out with. And, a little selfishly, Michael just wants to enjoy this week alone with his best friend without souring the mood with a huge revelation like this, without potentially ruining everything at the cost of being true to himself.

“Yeah, okay,” Michael scoffs, swallowing the urge to come out and the fear welling up at just the thought of doing so. He continues walking, and Jeremy follows, walking backward and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Remind me which of us has the huge crush on Keanu Reeves?”

“You’re a jerk, it’s a respectful admiration,” Jeremy insists, and then swears when he trips over a tree’s stray root. Righting himself, he continues, tone miffed but, as far as Michael can tell, with honesty, “If you were gay I wouldn’t make fun of you like this.”

Michael laughs, heart softening with affection and exploding at the same time with a rush of hope. And then he pushes the warmth away, but at least this time, it’s a bit more gently than before.

~

Fifteen minutes later, Michael and Jeremy are back in front of their cabin, stacking sticks by the firepit and setting up the tinder.

Or, well, Jeremy’s doing that. Michael’s sitting in front of a slab of wood, twisting a stick back and forth in his palms with determination.

“Michael, you know that’s not gonna work,” Jeremy says, the disbeliever and coward. “I’m just gonna get the matches.”

“You’re just a disbeliever and a coward,” Michael says without looking up, rolling the stick even more firmly. “Go get your disbeliever coward matches, see if I care.”

Jeremy snorts, and Michael hears him retreat into the cabin. Michael’s hands still, as he stares down at the piece of wood his stick’s end is poked into.

Does he like Jeremy?

Well, if today was any indication, yes, probably. But how can he just suddenly have a crush on Jeremy after ten years of purely platonic friendship? This can’t have appeared today. But how did Michael not notice?

Is this even a crush? He’s never had a proper one before, he hasn’t known anyone well enough to—even though the books and movies have people falling in love at first sight, that can’t be real. How would you get a crush on someone you’ve barely even met? But Jeremy’s definitely someone Michael‘s met. For all Michael knows, this could be romance.

What if it is romance? Jeremy would never like him back, would never even consider dating him—mostly because Jeremy’s straight as an ruler, almost painfully so, but also because he’d probably be too freaked out by the fact his best friend who he’s been hugging and sleeping next to has been gay all along, and even has a crush on him. Even putting aside that line of thought that makes Michael want to hide, Michael doesn’t think he’s ready to date anyone yet, despite the fact that he’s already fourteen and his classmates have already long begun to go out with each other. So there’s no point to this stupid crush and it should hopefully go away soon.

Yeah. It should go away soon.

“Okay, here we go,” says Jeremy from behind him, startling Michael out of his thoughts, and Michael turns to see Jeremy kneeling in front of the firepit, striking a match against the side of the matchbox. He gets the match’s tip lit, but then his expression flashes to realization. “Michael, can you go get the—the rainbow fire stuff? It’s in the left pocket of my bag. And the s’more ingredients!”

Michael takes a deep breath, then mock-salutes. “Got it,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. He crosses the grass and pushes open the cabin door, closing it behind him and pressing his forehead to the wood, trying to breathe.

Four in, seven hold, eight out.

He does that four times, then he finally goes and grabs the packet of chemicals from Jeremy’s backpack pocket—it was actually in the right pocket, but Michael knew to check there first anyway—along with the bag with the packs of marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. He’s regained most of the skip in his step when he returns to Jeremy, who’s built up the campfire to a surprisingly great size.

Jeremy’s face, flickering in the light of the campfire’s flames and the glowing moon above, lights up when he sees Michael.

“Yes!” Jeremy says, jumping up, and he runs over to grab the folding chairs leaning up against the side of their cabin and set them up next to each other by the fire as Michael pulls over a little metal table to put the snacks on. The fire warms his body as he tears open the packs of food, Jeremy passing him his roasting stick, already sharpened and peeled and ready to go.

“You know the drill,” Michael says as he spears a marshmallow onto his stick, “give me your burnt ones immediately or I’ll steal them myself.”

“You’re such a weirdo, why do you like the burnt ones?” Jeremy says as always, but doesn’t protest. “They’re horrible and fried and gross.”

“Says you,” Michael says, sticking his marshmallow straight into the fire, pulling it back out to let it burn for a few seconds, then extinguishing it at the perfect time. Burning marshmallows is a subtle art that Jeremy will never understand. “You just want to be all fancy and stuck up about your marshmallows.”

“No, I’m a reasonable human being that doesn’t like things that are burnt to a crisp,” says Jeremy, gently rotating his own marshmallow at a safe distance from the flames. “You just have no functioning tastebuds.”

Michael glances over, and his heart does a little flip in his chest at the sight of Jeremy’s grin, as he stares intently to get his marshmallow “perfectly” browned.

…Just for a bit. Michael can indulge in this just for a bit.

~FIN

Word Count: 2425

Team: Michael

Prompts: all main prompts, the crescent moon, the forest path, the gray car

@bmc-gift-exchange

[imgaygremlin]

Left in disrepair

Chapter 1- The one where hearts are broken

A golden bunny- well- an anthropomorphic one, shoved a girl- no more than 4, into a small back room, with no witnesses and nothing to protect her. Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, the newest place kids loved to go to, had several back rooms not mapped on the robot's sensors, or the cameras, making the perfect place to hurt- or worse, kill- someone.

The small girl breathed heavily, scrambling against the wall as a first resort. She whimpered, and decided using her voice would be the best way to ensure her safety. “What are you doing?” Her voice was shaky, and cloaked in a thick lisp, making her almost inaudible. She heard her friends running around outside, looking for her. “Gabriel?” She called, but to no avail. Nobody heard her.

“Shush, Susie. Just give up, they’re not coming to help, and you’ll soon be dead, too" he laughed, it soon turning maniacal and evil, and pulled a knife out from somewhere inside his suit. There were no pockets that Susie could see, so it had to have been on the person inside it.

“You aren’t really a robot, are you?” Upon seeing his reaction, a nod, her eyes flashed between almost every single emotion- sad, that she was alone; happy, that the robots weren’t trying to kill her; anger, that she was letting herself die like this. Her eyes eventually settled on a emotion that was particularly hard to describe, but to put it simply, was betrayal. Betrayal of the adults she thought she could trust. Betrayal that she couldn’t put up a strong fight.

“Good job, kid, you aren’t completely useless.” He chuckled, putting on different voices. Even though they were already almost pitch black, the man- the human’s eyes- seemed to grow darker with bloodlust and he lunged towards the girl, knife swinging outward. It missed her, by a fraction of an inch, and while he was distracted by the recoil and pressure on his arm, his breathing getting heavier- a bad sign- she threw a punch towards his face, and hit him square in the nose. His head got pushed backwards, not by much though. He stood back upright, his smile showing through his gapped teeth.

“That’s the best you can do? You’re weak.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, and made a split second decision to get rid of the Bonnie head, leaving it discarded on the floor. He could no longer act like someone he wasn’t, or rather, something he wasn’t. He smiled, a sweet, sadistic smile which had no traces of regret, or remorse, or really any emotions.

“I’m not the weak one, you are. I might be young, but you’re the stupid one, for attacking me. Don’t get me wrong, I love a fight, but only if it’s fair.” She managed to distract him with her mini speech, and took her chance to duck out behind him, only to find the door locked. Tears growing in her eyes, she fumbled with the door handle, trying to force it open. Eventually, she gave up, sinking back to the ground, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’ve failed you...” her voice trailed off.

All the while, the man was just staring, knowing she couldn’t escape, and if she could, he would take the defeat. He took his chance, stabbing her in the side while she was crying, her eyes widening in pain. “You can’t get out that easily, Susie. I won’t let you.”

She screamed in pain, one hand holding onto the door handle weakly. The other hand moved towards her side, and she curled in on herself. He simply laughed, watching her futile attempts to save herself. “Welcome to the Afton family, Susie" his smile widened.

“Y-you won’t get away with this, William” she got stabbed in the neck and could not ignore the pain. She collapsed on the floor and bled out.

William climbed out of The suit and stepped over Susie’s body. He dropped his knife, his purple ponytail bouncing behind him. Snapping back into character, he went over to Henry Emily, the person he’s worked with for several years, and faked some tears.

“Henry- I just went into the backroom for some storage and- there was a girl in there- she- she was dead-" he got cut off by Henry dragging him into a private room, alone. He looked almost impressed.

“You can’t lie to me William, you can’t.” That last phrase- you can’t- was one that Henry said a lot, in different tones, but it was always the same phrase. “I know you killed her. Tell me who it was and I’ll tell her parents she went missing.” He smiled, not meaning anything malicious by it, he was just a bit messed up after his daughter died. Henry got on his tiptoes and kissed William, quickly.

“Susie Chirah. She’s strong" Afton laughed slightly, before going on to explain his reasoning. “ You know how Elizabeth, and Chris, and Michael- all either died or left me, right? And for you it’s Charlie? I was thinking-" His face shifted, his eyebrows going down and his smile fading. “We can make a new family, one that’ll never leave us.” He pushed his hair out of his face.

Henry stared up at the 6”2 man, his eyes wide. His oversized sweater had gotten even more oversized as he lost the weight, almost unhealthily, and his hands were covered in ink and oil. Despite this, William loved him. For Henry, William was his only comfort after everyone in his life had left him- not even his sister stayed in contact with him. “Does that mean- Charlie- could come back? In the same way these new children will?”

“In theory, yes.” He paused. “But it might not, as we don’t know what happened to Charlie.” When Charlie- and Sammy- were around, William saw them as his children, and he looked after them like he was their father, but then they started taking too much of his time, so they had to go.

“Oh, speaking of Charlie, come with me!” Henry grabbed William's hand, and dragged him into one of the other back rooms- the safe room, to be specific- and showed him the work-in-progress robot he made, which was almost indistinguishable from how Charlie looked when she was alive. “I haven’t made the ai yet, but it looks like Charlie, doesn’t it?”

“Yes-" he paused, “it looks just like her.” He seemed to rock on his feet, his usually confident facade broken down into- admiration? Love? Jealousy? All of William's emotions were a jumble right now, he couldn’t tell what was ‘William Afton, the businessman’ or ‘William Afton, the broken man’.

“Are you okay? You look upset.” Henry reached towards his hand, but he pulled away.

“I’m fine- I’m sorry- I just remembered something” William quickly looked around the room, before looking back towards Henry. “You’re really beautiful...”

“Should we go back outside?” Henry reached for his hand again, and this time, William didn’t pull away. He gently nodded, and began to leave the safe room. “So.. Susie Chirah?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Have you ever seen a 3 year old so strong? It’s unreal.” William chuckled, sounding more human than he ever had done.

“We’re getting a new night guard tonight, right?” Henry looked around. “’Cause we both have stuff to do, right?”

“I believe so. I think his name is Warlock...”

“Odd name" Henry got the phone he always used, the cheap one. “Wanna help me record a tutorial message for him? This place isn’t too easy to navigate on those cameras.”

“But that means we have to do 5 nights worth of tutorials for one person.”

“Not necessarily. What if something happened to ‘phone guy’ on night 4? Like, being attacked by the robots?” Henry began to chew his nail, out of anxiety, or a whole load of different emotions.

“Or, just let Warlock make them. We can give him extra pay.”

“You’re a genius, William.”

“No, I’m William.” He giggled slightly.

“You need sleep, sweetie.” Henry, being surprisingly strong, picked him up, and walked around the back way, avoiding Susie’s parents, and only put him down when they were in the office. “Go to sleep, and I’ll sort out Susie’s parents"

“I love you, Henry...” And like that, William was asleep.

“I love you too...” Henry left the room, a smile on his face.

He walked towards the main room, where he could see Mrs and Mrs Chirah “Uh- excuse me- you’re the mothers of Susie, right?”

“Yeah...?” One, with a short, half-shaved pixie cut spoke with a thick Japanese accent

“I-I’m so sorry, but... your daughter has gone missing... Me and William can’t find her anywhere... I’m sorry..”

The two wives almost burst into tears, and they left the pizzeria quickly.

Henry sat down, and zoned out.

Meanwhile, William soon woke up, and got to work on increasing the size of his new family. He found his trusty suit, and lured a couple kids into the backroom with their own drawings. “Come here, kids, I found your missing drawings, and I even made them better!”

The oldest child, Cassidy, being almost 6, was the hardest to get trust from, and so he relied on blackmail. Since William had known them all for basically their whole life, he knew what to say to get her to behave. “If you don’t come here, your brother won’t love you anymore.”

“G-Gabriel wouldn’t do that, I know... I think...” She began to question what she knew. Without knowing what she was doing, she began to walk towards William, where her brother, and the Styke siblings were- that is, Fritz and Jeremy.

“That’s right, I won’t hurt you..” He lied. As Cassidy approached him, he grabbed her by one of her short ponytails and dragged her backwards into the safe room with everyone else. William locked the door behind her.

“What are you doing? Why did you lie?” Cassidy started crying, but tried to stay strong.

By this time, Gabriel and Fritz were already dead, on the floor. Jeremy had blood running out of the back of his head, and appeared dead. “You’ll soon be my new children, poor Cassidy. But that’s not a bad thing, you’ll forever be, well, young.”

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else! You’re the reason Susie is missing, aren’t you?” Cassidy almost screamed, her voice sore in the back of her throat.

“Oh, stupid girl, Susie isn’t gone, she’s right here!” He waved his hand and the figure of Susie’s ghost formed next to him.

“That isn’t Susie! That’s just a trick you’re using to kill me!” Cassidy was in tears at this point, and sunk down to the floor, hugging her knees.

Afton took the chance, stabbing her in the chest. He missed, but swung again, and hit her head.

Her hands fell to her side, and her head lolled open, her mouth slightly open. William went to step over her.

Jeremy, unknown to everyone else, was still alive, and went to chase after William. Unfortunate for him, he collapsed over Cassidy's body, his spirit giving up.

William returned, with the suits from the stage. Susie in Chica, Gabriel in Freddy, Fritz in Foxy, and Jeremy in Bonnie.

“Dammit, I need another suit...” he thought for a second, before running off and returning. He then stuffed Cassidy's body into the Golden Freddy suit, more comfortably fitting than the others, as there was no endoskeleton in Golden Freddy.

William, satisfied, left the room.

[cleverbroadwayurl]

It Only Takes a Taste (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt. 22)

Song: It Only Takes a Taste from Waitress 

Word Count: 6316 

Need to Catch Up? The links are weird on this site! Check my masterlist! 

A/N: Oh my god I’m not sure how I did it, but I promised it and here it is! I know that there’s been a lack of content lately, and I’m trying to fix that while making a living for myself and wow it’s getting to be a lot! But I will keep working at it and trying because I know when writing gets posted, others are more inclined to create as well! So here’s part 22!! Credit to: MJ!! 

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @catatonic-kuragin @stargirl-murphy @dee-writes-fics @macbookpro-hard-drive (I thought I’d tag u bc this fic was literally like your idea) 

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive ex-boyfriend, mentions of intimacy. mentions of fear of intimacy, implied trauma, mentions of trauma, self-depreciation, mentions of the SQUIP, mentions of The Play, mentions of previous fic parts, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Jeremy nods, and stutters out a quick “okay” before you practically vanish before his eyes. Everything and everyone around him was almost static, as if you hadn’t been there at all. But the tingly feeling in Jeremy’s heart and hands said different. It was something different within him. It was the first time he’d left and had some kind of security when thinking about you. Everything almost worked out, was almost perfect, and it was like….god he didn’t even know. You trusted him. You were okay. And in a solid night, he had gotten everything he’d wished so hard for—and he wouldn’t trade that for the entire world.

The Heere household hadn’t been so clean in years. Jeremy’s mom was the last person to really get it sparkling, until this very second, in which Jeremy was counting plates, blankets, amount of food, sodas, waters, amongst other things that had been perfectly laid about for an arrival that had been planned days in advance. Of course, you’d seen the Heere household in its usual somewhat cluttered glory before, but this was different, this was new, this was planned.

But it wasn’t a date…or was it? Jeremy stood for a second and stared at an old painting that had been there as long as he could remember. Was this a date? It was a planned interaction between the two of you, you coming over in what, 20 minutes or so? And yet, there was that same lingering feeling in the air, like you were still off limits like this was just the typical friend thing that he and Michael did. You were just coming over to play games…but then again, that could be counted as a date. He’d heard of other people doing that, but he also heard that there was sometimes no romance to it. Of course, he had Google searched it because his gut was just as unsure as to the logic. He knew that you wanted to be there. You’d texted him first, he brought up the idea of game night, you liked it, said you’d come over in a few days, now minutes, and he was still confused about the entire event. But, instead of pushing romance onto you, Jeremy made a definitive decision that this was a friend date. Yeah, just a friend thing. The last thing Jeremy would ever want to do was make you feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. He assumed you’d seen that so many times before, and he wanted to be a source of comfort, a source of happiness. He just wanted to make you safe.

The ring of the doorbell catches him off guard, and he runs to answer it, the small window not being completely transparent to display who was really out there. He really hoped it was you and not a religious group asking if he had thought about Christianity that day. With a flick of the lock, and a twist of his wrist, the door was opened, and there you stood, almost basking in the light radiating from the house.

You’d mentioned you would be wearing something comfortable because it wasn’t worth it to play games in jeans—Jeremy agreed, of course, meaning he was in his own sweatpants and t-shirt—but even though you stood in pretty much the same attire, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel underdressed. For the first time ever, you stood on Jeremy’s doorstep, a genuine smile on your face, shoulders tall, and no fear emitted from you. It was the first time Jeremy had seen you healthy in front of him, your cheeks a normal color and your eyes as bright as Jeremy could ever only imagine them. Seeing them in real life felt like a fantasy of some kind. Nervousness creeps its way into your features and Jeremy suddenly realizes he’s been staring at you for like two minutes straight, oh my god, he has to say something otherwise it’ll get more awkward.

But why were you nervous? You should not be the one who’s nervous. You were a good person, even though Jeremy had seen the slander that had happened against you on social media less than recently. But you knew Jeremy, and Jeremy knew you. Meaning all of that stuff that was said Jeremy knew was only conjecture. He knew that it was lies and attempts to get people onto your ex-boyfriend’s side. Some believed him, Jeremy was sure, but your reputation only got stronger with Jeremy. He saw it as you being so successful while the things you left behind put up a fight before dying. It was a triumph. Your nerves became more and more apparent, and Jeremy began to mirror that, his own hands beginning to sweat because oh my god he definitely didn’t say anything like he was supposed to.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to change after work, and they kept me late so uhh…” you began hands fidgeting with the edge of your sweatshirt. Your eyes darted downwards, and Jeremy resented himself for making you revert to old habits.

“Oh! It’s fine, actually, uhh the food was uhh late and it’s totally okay,” Jeremy rushed out.

You giggle at him as he opens the door and lets you inside. He knows you’ve seen his house before, but you still stop to take it all in. It’s different. It’s new for both of you, but good. There’s something in the air as Jeremy stares; your eyes following the structure of his living room before they finally land back on him. He blushes and turns his eyes towards the ground, cheeks and ears getting hot. Jeremy can feel every little droplet of sweat…god it feels like he’s going through middle school again, a smile on your adorable face as he does so. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt before he asks if you just want to head down into the basement. You smile and nod, heading towards the door and down the stairs as Jeremy grabs a pizza and some water. Jeremy can feel the smile on his face grow as he carefully steps down the stairs and into the already-lit basement.

Jeremy sets the pizza down in front of the TV and beanbags, far enough away where both of you have leg room, but not so far that the pizza is unreachable. You sit on one end of the room, while Jeremy sits on the other; beanbags having so much space between them, Michael could probably take a nap in the space. But it feels right. For some reason, space seems to be a requirement before continuing with the night. There’s no pressure to touch, there’s no pressure of accidents, and for some reason, it feels like a decision that needed to be made, and was, mutually.

Eyeing up his own game collection, Jeremy turns to you, realizing that you’d been watching him, almost as he’d been watching you. “What did you want to start with?”

“It’s up to you” comes your response, corners of your mouth turning upwards. Jeremy can feel his heart beating faster at that, along with the fact that you were admiring—no—observing him from a distance. Your eyes glistened in the dimmed lights, almost brighter than any afternoon summer sun. He hadn’t seen that ever, even when he’d first started noticing you. It had always been slightly dimmer. But this? This freedom, this happiness? Was something Jeremy was so glad he had the opportunity to witness in his—friend.

It’s only now that Jeremy realizes that you had just cast the decision of what to do onto him. His mind raced with options, none of them being worthy of your time, especially since you hadn’t shown a preference and you were the guest, so this would be a tough choice. He wanted something fair, something that both of you could get into, even if that meant he would have to sacrifice winning. Maybe winning wasn’t important with you around. Jeremy decided that as long as you two were comfortable and having fun, anything would be fine. That’s probably why you put the decision onto his shoulders. Jeremy could recall you mentioning something about Mario Kart before, and he thought that was a safe choice, even though he wasn’t the best at it, to say the least. Michael would drag that into a melodrama about just how terrible Jeremy was at Mario Kart, but it was something that was current common ground between you and the nervous boy. He moves slowly, almost like the rules that had been distinguished in that basement so many months ago were still significant. He finds the cartridge and puts it into his switch before turning on the system. He takes a glance backward, almost checking to see if everything is okay with you, and he watches as you observe the screen, biting your lip as you do so. It isn’t a soft biting of the lip, it’s almost like you’re nervous, like that’s a way to take the stress out of the situation. Maybe the rules were still significant. You two were alone in the house, basement door closed with heavy and steep stairs leading to an exit. Maybe that was scary. Maybe that was nerve-wracking.

But instead of dwelling on trying to decide what would ease you, it was almost like he knew that actions would soothe that more than anything. He grabs the attachments for the joycons, allowing both of you to play instead of just one player. He held out them in front of you, blue and red controllers both set up for playing. The title music played softly as he wordlessly smiled and gestured to pick whichever one you wanted. And that was a true no preference choice he’d laid out in front of you. Left or right, red or blue, Jeremy didn’t care as long as you were comfortable. The weight of the choice brings your face down, the glisten in your eyes dims, and your hand gently grabs the red one as Jeremy’s other hand grasps the blue one. Your expression doesn’t change as you gingerly hold the joycon and get your hands in place for playing. Your nerves hit Jeremy hard, but he was glad you managed to choose the one controller you wanted.

Jeremy had ended up with the blue one, the left-handed one, but he didn’t mind. You were sitting, observing the controller before he hit start. And finally, things started to ease within the room.

With a few quick button presses, the multiplayer menu is displayed, more choices set in front of both of you. He looks at you again, seeing which one looks like the best option. But your eyes are almost stuck on the cursor on the screen. It’s almost like you’re scared of what is going to be picked. He brushes the thought aside and gives you a choice once again. His own preferences for what he wants to do are out of the door. Even as just friends, Jeremy’s priority is providing a comfortable place to just relax for a second. That’s how he and Michael had managed to become friends without filters. Michael wanted to battle in Mario Kart?? He’d say it, loudly, and usually compromising with later rounds. Jeremy was able to do the same, friendly arguments are healthy. They make sense. You’re allowed to disagree with the people around you. But then again, maybe you weren’t scared of the choice, but rather really wanted to do a particular type. Just to be sure, he somehow verbalized his concerns: “Is there a type you wanted to do? Grand Prix? Just races? Or Battle?”

“Any of them is fine with me,” your smile almost seems forced, like something is keeping you on edge. The very last thing Jeremy wants to do is make you uncomfortable, but this seems like it’s something bigger than him.

“Okay. I know I’m still working through 100cc, so did you just want to help me out with that?” Jeremy asks, hands becoming sweatier as he asks.

“Sure!” You smile at him again, more genuinely this time. He can see the ease drip into your posture, You bat your eyes towards the ground, before gripping your controller.

He selects Grand Prix before looking to you once again as your eyes concentrate on each cup like they were an intensely written sensation novel instead of just simple “Fun English” chosen by game writers. “Is there a cup you like that I haven’t completed?”

“Uhh kinda weird and retro, but Shell cup,” you say, eyeing up the courses, light coming back in as you do so.

“Shell cup it is.”

As the cup begins, your smile gets wide and you ease into the bean bag a little further. Your hands grip the controller as you get ready to race. It doesn’t even take a look for Jeremy to realize that you’ve relaxed, and he does the same. It’s a friendly game, both of you not worried about winning or losing in the present moment, just having some fun as friends. As the course is showcased on the screen, you two share a smile, followed by a chuckle, and the race beginning.

“I love Moo Moo Meadows,” you blurt out, red grazing your cheeks, like it was a fact that was embarrassing.

“Oh no way, me too!”

And that was the truth. He almost always saved Shell Cup for the last because of Moo Moo Meadows. One lap goes by, and then another. It feels too fast, like the Game Theory episode suggests. Racers, according to the episode, go anywhere from 120-200 miles per hour, just like Jeremy’s heart at this moment. He glances at your face as you steal the lead, your concentration just as heartwarmingly adorable as it had been in senior government. But this had more heart, more passion, it felt like something more beautiful and purely stemmed from something good rather than a dumb group activity. He notices your body tilted with the kart as your character on screen turns and drifts, the sparks around the tires turning from orange to blue. Your thumb flicks and the kart straightens out, giving yourself such a lead that Jeremy swears he’s never witnessed, even when playing with Michael.

His eyes turn back to the screen, and he’s doing somewhat well. Except not really, since his character is in 10th and bound to hit a wall at some point. You’re onto lap 3, and Jeremy is a little over halfway through with lap 2, but it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy that you’re having fun and helping him get that cool trophy, even though for his favorite track, he was doing rather terribly. He glances again at your screen, and you’re still in first with an even better lead, and he’s sure that not even a blue shell could make you place second. Jeremy makes a note to not look at your screen anymore, that it’s causing him to lose places every time he does it. He speeds up, and finally finishes 4th, which isn’t too bad for his favorite track and for messing up so badly halfway through.

The cup flies by faster than Moo Moo Meadows ever did, but Jeremy’s heart kept the pace. The scores are predictable, you did mention that you were rather good at Mario Kart. You’re in first while Jeremy’s keeping fifth. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t care. Frustration doesn’t come with fifth, it’s rather warmth and grace. There isn’t taunting like there usually is with Michael, instead, he gets you stating “keeping a place like fifth is so difficult, I’m impressed. First is easy once you get there.”

As soon as the cup finishes and the final scores are displayed, you earning a three-star ranking, a sticker, and a perfect first, Jeremy still keeps his average at fifth. He usually gets fifth or sixth. First or fourth, maybe, on a good day. But instead of saying something sweet or even a “good game”, your face pales, eyes stuck once again on the screen. Your elbows are practically digging into your body, hands gripping the controller so hard that he can practically see your knuckles turning blue. There was something so familiar about this behavior, the way your shoulders shot up in discomfort, the way your razor sharp focus was unforgiving and isolating, and the way you held everything you had.

“Wow,” Jeremy said, breaking the silence, and hopefully the tension that kept itself locked in your body, “you’re really good at Mario Kart.” You just nodded in response, nothing else moving but the slight movement.

Jeremy’s mind raced faster than it had in a long time. Did he do something wrong? What happened? In that short amount of time, his mind tried to recall every little thing he’d said, every movement, every detail that had been placed in front of him, no matter how small. Did he accidentally move closer to you? Did you catch him staring like a creep? He didn’t remember accidentally bumping into you or touching you without consent in any way, shape, or form, besides maybe brushing hands when you’d grabbed the controller from his hand. But that was before the Moo Moo Meadows conversation when you’d seemed to relax so much. And if he had accidentally brushed you or something, he’d immediately apologize for that. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened over the course of the four races. But then again, your perceptions were different than his. His mind might forget something but yours might keep it locked away forever. And leaving it silent was worse than just asking, apologizing, and getting it resolved, rather than keeping it in the open air, where it could really hurt you.

“I’m sorry if I uhh, made you uncomfortable or anything.” Your eyes met his and he swore they pierced his soul. “That wasn’t my intention, if I did.”

“What?” you asked, confusion now flooding into your face. After a breath, you started again: “Jeremy, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just uhh, I guess I like forgot something while we were playing. Just remembered it now. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Jeremy paused, unsure of what you were referencing. He was near positive it wasn’t a good memory. Something told him to speak up again, just to say something to fill the silence that surrounded the room. “Is there anything I can—”

“N-No, it’s fine. Do you want to race again, or maybe do something else? It’s up to you,” your eyes lost his and refocused on something else.

It was now that Jeremy realized that you didn’t move. You hadn’t moved. Usually, there was some shifting for comfort while playing a game and relaxing. But it had been several minutes, and there was no movement from you. It was like your body was a statue, rusted to the bean bag, unable to be moved. Something was very wrong. But if you didn’t want to discuss it right now, or frankly, ever, that was okay. And Jeremy accepted that.

He decided that maybe Mario Kart wasn’t the best idea, especially since he was so bad at it. And if him losing every race seem to only make the tension in the room swell, maybe it was good to just let the game go and choose something else; for both of your sakes. Of course, when it came to picking games that were fair for both of you, meaning probably no first-person shooters from middle school or anything, he decided to choose the great equalizer of all party games. Although it was a bad idea to pull it out, Jeremy thought that the best thing to do was switch over to a less popular part of one of the Nintendo franchises: Mario Party.

Of course, Friendship Ruiner 8000, as Michael liked to call it, included motion controls, which Jeremy was again, not good at. But he figured their janky-ness would even out the skill sets and make it more of a fair fight, even though Jeremy was sure he would be too caught up in you to actually play the game to his best ability. But trying was worth it. You were worth it.

“Do you want to maybe play Mario Party 8? It’s the only Mario Party I have, but I figure that the motion controls are so bad, it would be fun to just kinda laugh at,” Jeremy asked, his eyes flicking towards you. He was telling the truth about the motion controls. Yes, sometimes the controllers stop registering movement. It’s just frustrating for games like Skyward Sword but infinitely funny for games like Mario Party 8 or Wii Sports.

At last, your entire body shifted, like your soul was coming back into view, like everything had just been worked out, no strings attached. “Jeremy,” you started, a smile forming on your lips, “you trust me enough to be friends with me at the end of a Mario Party game?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” you stopped for a second before a full smile broke out on your face, even though discomfort still seemed to be at the forefront. A red crept into your face as you continued with your thought: “you must really think I’m a good person or something.”

“Well yeah,” Jeremy blushed in return before he rushed to change the game and console.

“Now it’s been a little bit since I’ve played Mario Party 8, so I’m warning you now, 2v2 games are going to be rough with me,” you said, hands pulling your sleeves down a little bit.

“That’s fine,” he reassured, “motion controls are weird anyway.”

You gave a chuckle as you continued sitting, getting more comfortable within the bean bag chair. “True.”

The game quickly started and both of you were met with less than ideal graphics—when did the Wii get such a pixelated screen?—and the odd mascot appeared before the two of you. His weird laugh came through the speakers, and more choices appeared on every screen. But suddenly, choices became easy. The type was of course 4 player, two being you, two being computers, 15 turns—to make it interesting, and any course except the city one that’s somehow a ripped off version of Monopoly. Finally, the character selection screen appeared, and Jeremy waited for you to pick your favorite original Mario character, just so he wouldn’t take something that would be claimed as rightfully yours, for the game, at least. Once you were done selecting, Jeremy picked his favorite franchise character, one that is overlooked by many people, specifically men. Jeremy Heere chose Princess Peach.

“Peach?” you asked, eyeing him.

Jeremy’s skin went aflame, he could feel the familiar tingling from his toes to his ears. His mind raced for justification, a quick answer, a solution, for why he chose Princess Peach. But you surprisingly beat him to it.

“She’s cool, Jeremy, I’m just surprised. Maybe I should’ve picked Mario or something.”

At the small comment and remark of romantic tension that was still lingering in the room, Jeremy turned every little bit redder and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. Was that you…flirting? With him? Jeremy had never seen that before, especially from you, and especially since you’d been strictly off-limits for so long. Maybe it was playful. It was a joke. It was something that he shouldn’t dwell on. You probably weren’t dwelling on it.

Somehow, the next few decisions happen, and Jeremy is able to form coherent enough sentences to vouch for the computers to be on Hard Mode, just to even the playing field between skill levels.

The game starts immediately, both computers pulling ahead and already placing traps on spaces that are supposed to be +3 coins. Both computers get an added 3 coins, for landing on the space, and both you and Jeremy make fun of the randomized way that both AI are playing the game.

The beginning of the game quickly switches to halfway through, and by now you’ve moved closer to Jeremy, bumping each other periodically, so far behind the computers it’s almost laughable. Each minigame is spent in a fit of laughter as both of you are clearly doing what the instructions are telling you to do, but the motion controls aren’t picking it up. It’s sweet, fun, and most importantly, relaxed. The now somewhat-cold-pizza is starting to be eaten, neither of you cares about how it tastes, but rather, what the moment means.

When the game finishes, Jeremy maintains a steady third, with you in second thanks to the bonus stars that are given out after the game is finished. Although both of you felt that you really didn’t do anything special, it was almost like the game took pity on you, and chose to give both of the actual players some bonus stars.

But between the two of you, the places don’t matter. It was fun to just play an interesting game with one another, despite the casual reputation it has among other groups. Each turn out of the 15 was exciting, fun, and laughable, considering how bad you two were doing. Instead of being put against each other, the two of you had an alliance; a method of teambuilding that couldn’t be fabricated by anyone. This was something special, and there was almost a bond formed that game, something that wouldn’t be easily forgotten or erased. And the room now had comfort practically written on the walls. Of course, it was a comfort with each other. The physical, more touchy, comfort wasn’t present in the room. There was still space between you two, and something still felt right about that. Maybe it was Jeremy’s mind consistently telling him to lay off on certain kinds of affection, especially since you two probably weren’t dating, and to keep his space.

The pizza was nearly gone, a final slice just sitting in the box, neither one wanting to touch it. The excitement of the game before had exited, and leaving in its place easy silence and exhaustion. It was late, and while Jeremy definitely wanted you to stay at his house for as long as you could, it was your choice to leave. He might be bummed out for a few seconds, but then would be honestly grateful for the time he got to spend with you, which was worth much more than feeling sorry for himself in his basement like usual. So he decided to leave an ambiguous question out of the equation of the night and instead decided on suggesting to watch a movie. It wouldn’t take much effort, and leaving halfway through would never be a crime, especially since Jeremy was not the person who wanted to take away that freedom. “Hey, do you maybe want to watch a movie? If you have to go, that’s fine too, but I thought I’d ask, like, just in case you didn’t or something.”

“Sure, Jeremy. That sounds nice after Toad totally kicking our asses.”

Jeremy let out a small chuckle before he flipped off the Wii and changed to the PS4. After cycling through the apps on the menu, he found Netflix and booted it up, the classic Netflix noise making its way into the basement. You sat back on the beanbag as the noise rang out, taking a more relaxed posture than you had the entire night. Although you seemed to be a little more at peace, Jeremy’s mind kept crawling back to the same thought: what even was tonight? The Mario and Peach comment made it seem like a date, but you two had never dated or established dating before, and the beginning of the night seemed only friendly. But now it felt so…date like. And of course, it wouldn’t be any date, no, this was the first date. First dates were uncomfortable, awkward, and kind of hard to swallow. They made even the most confident people cringe. They almost take the appearance of an interview for the rest of the relationship. And Jeremy didn’t want that. He’d rather keep the feeling in the room going and choosing something that wouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable. So he had to narrow his search: nothing with a sex scene or domestic violence of any kind. It would be too hard on you, he assumed, and it would crush him to make you upset on your possibly first date.

“First date?” you inquired, eyes scanning him.

Jeremy jumps up and nearly throws the controller, not realizing that his thoughts had been muttered aloud to the person sitting next to him. “Y-Yeah, because I thought well, the Mario and Peach comment, and I—”

“Jeremy,” you chuckle, smile breaking through and remaining. You finally make eye contact with him and Jeremy can feel the fear creeping up into his features. Wrong move, dumbass. “This isn’t our first date—” shit shit SHIT “—It’s like our fourth.”

For a second the world stops turning and Jeremy can feel his brain reeling back. How the heck was this a fourth date? Those other times he’d spent with you weren’t dates, were they? What counted, what didn’t count, what was in between? How did he miss something as big as this??? He didn’t really want to imply romance, even back in the moments, but this still felt like—

“Our first date I think I count as the time I came over here, even though that was a pretty bad circumstance. Our second was making breakfast, which again, bad circumstance, but still kind of a date. Our third was like four days ago, which, dancing together seems pretty romantically inclined, you know?”

Jeremy can only nod. He does know. He just didn’t think you had wanted—and still wanted—to date him. He’s been overthinking every interaction for over a year, each moment, each sleight of hand, everything that had happened before this very second. But for some reason, you explaining it like this, everything felt like it locked into place. The pieces are there, he just needed reassurance to fit them together.

“Therefore, fourth date,” you gesture around you, and Jeremy suddenly realizes that this was a date. The games, the lighting, the way you made jokes, the discomfort that had now morphed into comfortable bliss, it all felt like a date to him, and he had just wanted to respect your space.

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” you mentioned, hands quickly playing with your sleeves again, eyes darting downwards as if you’d done something wrong and made a terrible mistake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, and I wasn’t going to if you weren’t thinking it but like you just said—”

“No, I agree with you. Completely. I’m just surprised I didn’t like…come up with it sooner.”

A small smile reappears on your face. “You’re valid, Jeremy.”

Instead of a movie, both of you settle on a light TV show, not really getting into the plot, but rather just relaxing in the dim light of the basement. With no one around, it feels like a lost peace that was recently found, like it was a treasure that couldn’t be seen by anyone else. The first episode ends quickly, another one just starting to play as the silence continues. There’s no awkwardness, no commitment, no extra things to be wary about and nothing that needed to be said. For that first episode or so, things felt like they were supposed to feel. Warm, simple, easy.

A thought occurred to Jeremy as the silence continued: he should be closer to you. This is a date, right? Did you want to hold hands or something? Did you want to be closer, and just didn’t know how to request things? Should he just go for it? No. A quick glance at you told him no. Your eyes were on the screen, captured by the show. Your eyes didn’t even match his for a second, meaning you were comfortable where you were and didn’t want, or frankly need, anything extra. Jeremy just being there was enough. His eyes refocused back onto the screen, getting into the show once more before your voice broke the silence between you two, and the quiet murmur of the show.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you ask, hands still fidgeting as you face him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Because like, we’ve established this like relationship thing, I just…I wasn’t open in my last relationship, which was my fault and a major mistake.”

Jeremy held his breath but didn’t say anything. How could he? He didn’t know about what happened behind closed doors, wasn’t sure about the things that were said to you. In his mind, you didn’t get the chance to express your feelings or be open. You didn’t have the opportunity to have a good relationship, except maybe in the first little bit. But what did he know besides what you told him? How could even attempt to argue with you on something he legitimately knew nothing about? He wasn’t. At last, Jeremy nods, almost asking you to continue your thought.

“I, uhh, god where do I even start with this?” you breathe deeply before continuing, the breath shaky and uneven. “Jeremy, I can’t…do things yet. I can’t—I’m not—Fuck—I am so—” you took another breath—“I can’t be normal. I just…I can’t like…I have a really hard time with intimacy and romance and I just…I can’t even do simple things like hold your hand—not that you’re gross oh my god I’m so sorry that’s how it sounded—but like…my brain and body won’t let me do that for some reason. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m so sorry, but I just…can’t be normal. I can’t fall asleep around you, I can’t hold your hand, I can’t be a good partner yet. I know you probably want to do that, and I just wanted to bring it up so you aren’t hurt or confused or something because I can’t do it. I just…I have baggage, Jeremy.”

Jeremy can hear tears starting to form, your voice thick. He knows what it means. He knows that you’re hurt, you’ve been hurt, and he knows that what your “not normal” is probably self-blame and trauma from what he could only catch glimpses of before. And while you’re here saying it’s your fault, Jeremy recognizes that it’s not yours, it could never be, but a particular someone’s, who should remain nameless.

“I know we’ve kissed before, but if we could just…hold off on that please for a little while, that would uhh, be great. And it’s a dumb thing to ask, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, and I know it’s a dumb me-thing, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jeremy turned towards you and paused the show as you take in a large breath and prepare for what he’s going to say. But he knows that this is something that’s hard to put into words, hard to handle. He knows this feeling, and he knows what should come after it. “It’s okay. We can wait. We can wait on everything for as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable. I understand that it’s hard, I mean, after the play junior year, I kind of had similar boundaries. But I dated someone who gave me patience. I’ve been forever grateful for that, so I want to do the same for you. You deserve that patience and to be comfortable in your own skin.”

“I—” you started, mouth open, eyes frantically blinking, “Thank you. I mean…wow, I really just…wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeremy smiles and lets you have some time to take care of yourself, to calm down and really come back to reality a little bit. He offers his hand out if you want to grab it, but if not, he’s not hurt by it. He knows that sometimes you need physical space as well as emotional space, and wouldn’t be offended if you chose not to grab it.

“Can I ask you something weird?” the question drops into the room harder than a weight being dropped.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can we like…can we just like function on consent for a little bit? Like we ask before just…touching, even if it’s something small, and can we uhh ask for consent for like kissing and stuff? It’s a weird and tiring request, I know, but…”

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you.”

Jeremy shakes his head before continuing the conversation. “You don’t need to thank me, they’re your boundaries and I want to respect them.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Jeremy’s eyes catch it, but doesn’t move to wipe it away. That would be cruel after what he’d just been told, and it feels like every night before is flooding back to him. Touching you before required consent. This was the same thing, the same circumstances, the same hurt. It was different, though. This was him having this conversation with you, this was the fear that he’d break them like they’d been thousands of times before. This was to prevent extra breakdowns that didn’t need to happen and to keep you safe, as much as he wanted to do that while you were in his arms. He’d rather not imprison you during the relationship. He’d rather let you roam free as the birds flying above.

“You have no idea what that means to me,” is finally whimpered out.

Neither of you touch one another, and Jeremy’s hand is discarded. You two finish another two episodes before you gather up your stuff and head up the stairs. Upon request, Jeremy doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t try. He doesn’t ask for consent, because something told him to let you have your space tonight: over text, spatially, over social media, and in any other capacity. You thank him for the night, with promises to text him the next morning, before leaving and heading out to the car that Jeremy’s dad knew too well. No kisses, no touching, but confusion about the Mario Kart incident before still unsolved. But that was another boundary he wanted you to have space on.

You had been wronged before, you’d been confused, cheated out of a life that was set for you that was supposed to be happy. Your ex-boyfriend had done wrong. Jeremy wanted to do it right.

[be-more-heidi-hansen]

Talk To Me (Jeremy Heere X Reader)

"what about,,, Jeremy helping the reader fall asleep"

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: cursing

(A/N): this is so cute and fluffy hbnbdsbn. i love this request thank u anon. they’re both so awkward skjdk i think this is my favorite fic i've written so far. also Burgertown is a real musical that my school put on last year! it was surprisingly good, i loved it. anyways, enjoy, and if you really like it, consider liking/reblogging! it would be really appreciated!

~

It was two in the morning, and you were lying on the couch in Michael's basement. Jeremy and Michael were leaning against it, fast asleep on their beanbags. You, however, were tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position, but it wasn't working. You hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and you had no idea why. It wasn't like this was your first time sleeping on this couch. It had dealt with you and your quiet snores, your all-nighters, and your occasional bad dreams. Tonight, though, for whatever reason, the couch wasn't dealing with any of those things, for which it was probably grateful. Let's stop personifying the couch now. Anyway. You were having difficulty sleeping.

The amount of effort you were putting in to falling asleep was giving you a headache, which was just further hindering your quest for sleep. You let out a quiet groan of annoyance, freezing when you realized you could wake either Michael of Jeremy up. You held your breath, glancing down at the two. Neither of them so much as stirred, and you were envious of their deep sleep. Maybe you were just dehydrated? You couldn't remember drinking much water today. That was probably it. You sat up and were about to swing your legs over the side of the couch when you realized you would almost certainly jostle either Michael or Jeremy, and you didn't wanna wake them up. You stood and stepped silently over the back of the couch, stepping up the stairs carefully.

When you reached the kitchen, you ran your hands along the wall until you found the light switch. When they flickered on, you squinted at the blinding light. You grabbed a cup from the cabinet, padding over to the sink and filling it up. When you turned to walk back downstairs, your little toe hit the corner of the island in the middle of the kitchen. The little 'fffff...' sound you made was almost deafening in the silence. You clapped a hand over your mouth. You didn't want to wake anyone. Especially Michael's moms. That would be awkward. 'Oh, sorry to wake you, Mrs. and Mrs. Mell, I stubbed my toe and just had to scream 'Fuck!' to the heavens. My bad.' Yeah, no.

You did let out a quiet grunt, however, and set the cup down on the island before gripping your foot in both hands and hopping on your other foot like some kind of cartoon character. God, did that hurt like a bitch.

"(Y/N)?" a groggy voice whispered. Your head shot up and you immediately let go of your foot, letting it thump quietly to the ground. Standing in front of you, tired and confused, was Jeremy. "What are you doing up?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes. "I couldn't sleep. Did I wake you up?" you asked, and Jeremy shook his head unconvincingly. "No, no..." he trailed off. He always was a terrible liar. You gave him a look. "Well, maybe. You were kind of hopping around right above us." That was a good point. "Oh. Sorry, Jer. I stubbed my fucking toe on the island while getting some water." Jeremy nodded.

It was silent for a moment as you both looked at each other. "So why couldn't you sleep?" Jeremy asked. "I have literally no idea." you muttered, rubbing at your tired eyes. "I just can't. It's kind of pissing me off." you said, and Jeremy looked at you with sympathy. "That sucks." he said, and you nodded, taking a sip of your water. "Yeah." you took a deep breath, sighing it out. "Let's just go back downstairs." you suggested, and Jeremy nodded, turning and heading back. You took another gulp of your water before pouring the rest in the sink and turning to follow Jeremy.

When you climbed back over the couch with a huff, Jeremy gave you a look of confusion. "You and Michael are, like, right in front of the couch. I didn't wanna step on one of you, or something." he nodded in understanding, and once your eyes adjusted you could see his mouth parted in a small ‘oh’ as he laid back against the couch, pulling his blanket back over him. You laid on your back, trying hard to clear your mind so you could sleep.

Things quickly went right back to how they were before. You were shifting restlessly, fidgeting and rolling your eyes in annoyance each time your body told you to move again. After a few minutes of this, Jeremy turned around to face you. "(Y/N)?" he whispered, and you suddenly felt guilty for keeping him awake. And for waking him up in the first place. You sighed quietly. "Sorry, I know it's annoying." you muttered. It was silent for a beat. "Is there anything I can do to help you fall asleep?" he asked.

You were thankful it was dark. He wouldn't be able to see your face turn red. "Uh, yeah. This is kind of embarrassing, but- could you maybe, just.... talk to me? Your voice is really relaxing." you asked. Jeremy looked a little surprised. "Yeah, sure." he whispered, "Uh, what about?" you shrugged, then realized he probably couldn't see it. "Anything, I guess?" Jeremy shifted awkwardly, trying to face you. It was silent minus Jeremy's small huffs of effort as he tried to find a comfortable position to sit in. "Jer, you don't have to help me. It's fine." he shook his head and you could see his curls skating across his forehead with the movement. "No, I just- could I, like, lay on the couch with you?" he asked, and you froze, heat rising to your cheeks. "Okay."

Jeremy stood from his position on the floor and practically towered over your laying form. You scooted back against the cushions, making yourself small so Jeremy could fit with you. He just stared for a moment. "What?" you asked. "I think I would fall off." that was probably true. "Maybe you could, I dunno, lay.....on me?" he offered cautiously, and although the thought made your stomach flutter, the way he said it was a little awkward. "O-or not!" he stuttered, becoming worried at your silence. "Yeah, um, sure." you said, carefully stepping off the couch. You narrowly avoided stepping on Michael's hand, which was lying on the floor.

You gestured for Jeremy to get on the couch and he jolted, like he had forgotten what you were doing. You couldn't blame him. It had to be almost three already. He laid down, scooting to get comfortable. His hands reached for you, then recoiled, like what he did was crossing some sort of boundary. You smiled inwardly at his cautiousness as you put a knee on the edge of the couch, clambering awkwardly over him, apologizing when you saw him wince. One you had gotten into a position that was comfortable for the both of you - chest-to-chest, your leg swung over his and your arms around his middle, his on your back - you laid your head on his chest. You felt the butterflies in your stomach flapping around wildly as if searching for escape at being in such an intimate position with your best friend/crush.

After a moment, Jeremy began to speak softly, voice wavering between being only a soft whisper and a speaking voice. "So, um, I don't know if I told you, but the school's putting on another play next year." you smiled. Even though what happened earlier in the year wasn't a good example, you thought Jeremy was actually pretty talented as an actor. On the floor, Michael shifted, giving a quiet snort. Jeremy's voice was softer now, a small whisper, so as not to wake him up.

"It's called 'Burgertown', I think. It's a musical. Mr. Reyes thinks I should audition for the male lead, Danny. Which surprised me, because I figured he'd never want me in another play at Middleborough as long as I lived after what happened last time." his chest shook slightly with the breathy chuckle he released, and you smiled slightly. As he continued to talk about the play and about some video game he and Michael had been geeking out about lately, you slowly fell asleep in his arms, head moving and becoming familiar with the soft rises and falls of his chest as his breath slowly evened out to match yours.

~

The next morning when you woke up, you were surrounded by warmth. When you opened your eyes, you realized with a start that your head was nuzzled into Jeremy's neck. Then you remembered that you were literally laying on him. You went to pull away, but Jeremy, still asleep, groaned and pulled you closer. "You're warm." he whined, and heat rose to your face as your heart hammered against your chest. "Jeremy." you whispered. No response. "Jeremy. Jer?" you raised your voice a little bit, and winced as it cracked from sleep. This elicited, once again, no response whatsoever. "Jeremy." you sang, shaking him lightly. He groaned once again, opening his eyes just slightly. Slowly, they focused on you.

His eyes widened so quickly you almost feared they would pop out of his head. "Uh. Hey, (Y/N)." he was so close you could feel his breath fan across your face. "Hi, Jer." he seemed to realize he still had a hold on you and awkwardly let go, letting one arm rest on his side while the other dangled over the edge of the couch. "Oh, right." you said, climbing off him. Once you were successfully back on your feet, you stretched and yawned, popping your joints as you did so.

You grabbed your phone from the floor to check the time. "Holy shit, it's noon." you muttered. Jeremy's eyebrows raised. "Well, we were up pretty late last night." Jeremy muttered, shrugging. He stood up too, stretching just as you had. When his hands reached way up above his head, his shirt raised too, and you felt heat climb to your cheeks when you saw the little visible sliver of his stomach. Why did you have to like him so much?

Jeremy yawned quietly before speaking. "So, how'd you sleep?" he asked. Truthfully, it was the best you'd slept in a while. It was nice to have someone holding you in their arms as you both drifted off to sleep. "Good." you answered casually. "You?" Jeremy nodded. "Same here." it was weirdly tense for a few moments. "You make a good pillow." you joked, and Jeremy chuckled, breaking the awkward atmosphere between you almost immediately. "Thanks."

Suddenly, you realized something. "Wait, where's Michael?" your other best friend was nowhere to be seen. Jeremy shrugged. "Probably upstairs eating lunch. It is noon." Your stomach growled suddenly at the thought of food, and you and Jeremy both started to laugh. "Let's go join him." you suggested, and Jeremy nodded his agreement, following you up the stairs.

When you reached the kitchen, Michael was standing at the island, eating a sandwich while going through his phone. He glanced up at the two of you briefly. "Hey, lovebirds." he greeted, hiding a smirk. You and Jeremy both blushed. "Shut up, dude." Jeremy chuckled. Michael laughed before he seemed to remember something. "Hey, check this out." he chuckled. "Oh, and this is gonna be saved in my blackmail folder, by the way." he held up his phone, and on it was a picture of you and Jeremy, cuddled close on the couch. You and Jeremy locked eyes, making a decision without speaking, and nodded. You both lunged at Michael, hands outreached.

"DELETE THAT!"

[elliotlikespuke]

Since I’m at 480 now, it’s time to post the next collab. This one was done with @rachthecool for one of our favourite fandoms (I actually requested a fic from her that she knocked out of the park). This is based on a scenario she came up with a while back. Anyway, have some Be More Chill!

Warnings: puke, fever, fluff

Sleepovers weren’t uncommon. Jeremy and Michael loved hanging out and playing video games til midnight, playing dorky nerd games and occasionally truth or dare. On weekends, they’d often try to pull all-nighters. They’d normally alternate which house they’d hang out in, and this time it was Michael's… which meant Jeremy was sprawled out on the couch trying desperately to get a moment’s rest while Michael was sleeping comfortably in his room. Why? Because Michael was ‘too gay to be sleeping in a bed with another guy’. Michael had jokingly warned that he might not be able to help himself.

Jeremy had felt ‘off’ all day, as he had dismissed it as. He only realized right when they started up their video game how his head was pounding with a dull and agonizing pain, his throat was burning with the need to cough, and his head was spinning dizzily. He tried to hide this while they played, ignoring the way the brightness of the screen made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He hated cancelling on Michael, especially since he had been so excited to try out a new game.

So here he was, lying weakly on the couch as he shivered violently under the thin blanket Michael had equipped him with.

If he had been asleep, Jeremy would have startled himself awake. His stomach twisted violently, anticipating vomiting. He forced it down. The last thing he needed was to be sick at Michael’s house again. The couch wasn’t as comfortable as Jeremy remembered.. The tv was still on. In the partial light, Jeremy could barely see his hand shaking violently two feet in front of him. He shivered anew, his whole body trembling with cold tremors. Reaching for another blanket, he suddenly stopped and was forced to suck in a shaky breath. Moving jostled him in an unexpected way. His throat felt cold, and his mouth was filling with saliva. His whole body was shaking.

A voice in his head. Was that real? Probably. The squip would never really go away. Jeremy started. His stomach felt cold. His whole body felt cold. Jeremy smothered a whimper in his hands. His teeth chattered.

Bathroom, he decided he needed, but he sure as hell knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. He got up anyway, shuddering violently as the sudden movement only increased the nausea to the point where he couldn’t make it another step. Fuck. He tried to move again.

His throat contracted. He did his best to force it down, swallowing against each gag. Jeremy could no longer move. He was rooted in place, trying desperately to cover his mouth with his hand, smothering the need to retch. It didn’t work. A final heave drove the contents of his stomach up his throat. He opened his mouth, powerless against himself. The sour liquid exploded into the back of his mouth. He puked all over his goddamn feet.

This wasn’t the problem, however. The problem was that he puked on Michael’s goddamn floor. All over his floor, in a sickening puddle right in front of him. He stood, petrified, staring at it in fear and self-hatred. The light of the tv weakly illuminated the room so that he had to stare at the disgusting mess he had created, which made him even more guilty. The worst part was that he wasn’t done.

He wasn’t entirely sure of what happened next, as he felt oddly disoriented and was sure he was half-delirious, but he could feel and hear the liquid splattering down onto his feet, and of course the floor again. Tears burned at his eyes, and bile burned at his throat. He was barely pulled out of his fevered state, only enough so he could stare at how weak and stupid he was being, ruining Michael’s house while they were supposed to be hanging out and having a good time.

Jeremy heaved. Panic gripped his thoughts. He couldn’t puke anymore. He couldn’t wake anyone up either. Jeremy’s legs were almost too shaky to hold himself up. The adrenaline was the only thing that kept him standing. He could hardly swallow all the saliva that was filling his mouth. He tried his best not to start crying. His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, trying not to heave into his hand. Jeremy wanted to slump over and close his eyes.. If he convinced himself he wouldn’t puke anymore, he wouldn’t puke anymore.

Tears fell down his cheeks faster.

Those thoughts were pushed from his head by the urge to gag once again. Choking on a sob, he gave in to the nausea, and another small spurt of puke came from his mouth. Turning on a light would wake someone up. He couldn’t do that.

Jeremy’s thoughts raced, frantic to find a solution. The slick vomit was reflecting the light of the tv, and it made him sick as he moved, feeling it squish between his toes. The bathroom had things he could use, he was sure of it. He stepped gingerly to the light switch, trying not to rub the puke on his feet further into the grey carpet.

He turned on the light. It felt like a knife, driving into his temples. He grabbed onto his head, crying out. This felt like the squip.

The light grey carpet seemed to hurt his feet as he padded against it, desperate to get to the bathroom. He spat into the sink, leaning down to rinse out his mouth. His stomach felt marginally better after heaving up the contents onto the floor. His head didn’t. It pounded with new fervor, matching the racing rhythm of his heart.

He grabbed as many cleaning supplies as he could, briefly pausing to wipe off his feet. He didn’t bother checking any of the labels. Grab it all and see what there is. He carried it to the puke stain. In the light, he could see every bit of it. The orange vomit was littered with scraps of pizza. It made him sick to have to clean it up. The smell hit him next, and he crumpled to his knees.

Sobs wracked his body while he desperately scrubbed the carpet. Nothing was coming out. He ruined Michael’s house. He deliriously convinced himself that Michael would hate him for this, and that he’d never be able to come over ever again if Michael found out. He felt absolutely awful, not just physically, but with the added guilt that he had just puked everywhere and probably ruined Michael’s carpet.

“Jeremy?” Came a tired voice behind him. He knew that voice. He couldn’t not know it. He sobbed harder and turned around. “What happened?”

Michael was standing behind him, in an old Galaga t-shirt and boxers. His glasses were shoved on his face, but his eyes were squinted against the harsh light. His face painted a picture of concern.

Jeremy could do nothing but sob. He used the backs of his messy hands to wipe his face. He was screwed. Michael would probably hate him now, and he would probably stop being his friend because he was being so stupid and weak. The thought of this only made the tears multiply as they streamed uncontrollably down his face.

Michael made a noise of surprise. “Jeremy you’re covered in puke! What happened?”

“Don’t feel so good, Micah,” Jeremy rasped, and Michael looked down at the mess he had made.

He had expected Michael to start yelling at him. He had expected Michael to give him a look of disgust and throw him out of the house, or at the very least scold him, but he soon felt himself being scooped up into warm and comforting arms.

“Shh, don’t cry, Jeremy. It’s okay…” Michael looked down to the cleaning supplies, then back to Jeremy’s wide-eyed expression of pure shock. “You weren’t trying to clean it, were you?”

Jeremy nodded, trying to bury his face into Michael’s chest so he’d never have to look him in the eyes again.

Michael wrapped him up tighter, taking care not to squeeze his middle too hard lest he start something again.

“You could have woken me up, Jer,” Michael whispered to him. “I wouldn’t have been mad.”

Jeremy’s brain told him that was wrong. That Michael would have been mad, that he would have thrown him out of the house, never spoken to him again. When Jeremy tried to nod again, Michael stilled him.

“I wouldn’t have been mad then, and I’m not mad now. Shit like this happens. Do you feel any better at least?”

Jeremy considered it. The nausea had ebbed slightly, leaving him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and a burning sensation all the way up to the back of his throat. But there was no longer any impending risk of vomit, so he agreed.

Michael brushed a hand to Jeremy’s cheek, tsking once again at the immense heat. “God, you’re burning up… I can’t believe you tried to clean this with a fever like that…”

Jeremy looked down guiltily, to which Michael lifted his chin up to look him in the eyes. “I’m not expecting you to clean anything. You could’ve woken  me up and I could’ve cleaned it for you, and you could’ve gotten some proper rest… It’s actually not too late for that. Do you want to go lie down in my bed?”

Jeremy sniffed shakily and nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Michael smiled at him, gently returning the nod, and he started pulling him towards the stairs. Jeremy leaned into him, trying his best to move quickly for Michael.

Michael encouraged him the whole way, with small “You’re okay”s, and “careful”s. The second set of stairs was harder. Michael had to pick him up a bit, lifting him up the last few steps.

“Oh, Jerm. Just a few more steps.” Michael’s bed was colder than Jeremy expected. It was soothing against his itching, burning skin. He rolled over, shoving his flaming cheeks into one of Michael’s pillows.

“Okay,” Michael stood by the edge of his bed. “I’m just going to clean up downstairs, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Michael pressed a gentle kiss to Jeremy’s head and left the room.

Jeremy rolled over again, trying to make himself comfortable in a bed that was far too big and far too empty. Michael’s bed smelled like him, and Jeremy relished in it. He pulled a pillow to his chest, burying his nose in it. Michael couldn’t come back fast enough.

Jeremy was half asleep by the time Michael came back in, smelling like cleaning products. He felt the covers get pulled back behind him, and the bed dip as Michael got in, pushing himself towards his Jeremy.

“Are you asleep?” Michael whispered.

Jeremy groaned. Pulling Jeremy into his chest, Michael chuckled. “Goodnight.”

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 11

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Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2850+

You’re grumbling as you trudge through the snowbanks, arms crossed tightly and expression morphing into a scowl. Around the side of the building, it’s pristine walls watching you sink to your shins, and spite urging you to keep going. To not give up like the sun has, light fighting a losing battle, and clouds churning with the warning of another storm. Angry darkness and sullen grays bubbling together, a pot of burning soup spilt across the sky.

It doesn’t seem to bother Ryan. But then again, nothing does. He remains as cheerful as ever, already waiting for you as a blot of red flannel against the blanket of white. A hand pushes back the loose locks of hair desperate to dance with the biting wind, a smile warm against the face you bend to your feet. Left foot, right foot, repeat.

Only once you reach him and the faded, chipped truck he stands against does Ryan reach out, opening the passenger side door with a click. Even the colours of him seem subdued today, leaching through his feet and swallowed by the hard earth. Golden hair tarnished and eyes filled with slate as opposed to the lakes you generally enjoy. “After you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, clambering up and settling on the seat, glaring out the window. Accusing the world for stealing the joy of the day, and selfishly hording the colours you’re desperate for.

He grins at your attitude, drifting to the truck’s tray. A quick snap of elastic and rattle of chains tells you that the load of wooden panels, planks, and tools are secure; Ryan returning to your side once he’s happy. With the turn of his key he practically bounces, loving the roar that engulfs the space and wraps across the wheel.

You groan theatrically, head resting against the humming dashboard as he peels carefully out of the Hay Woodworks parking lot. And for once you don’t want to watch the trees go by, don’t want to face the forest that clings to the side of the truck.

“Someone’s grumpy today.”

His teasing stings, the back of your tongue bitter and eyebrows aching from being drawn so tightly together. You remember the night you’d spent awake, the smell of smudge stick still thick in your nose. A film coating the back of a throat hoarse with incantations. A night left staring out the window, struggling against the pressure weighted against your chest and the rising of a sun that didn’t care. Trying not to tear your skin apart with the burning itch playing at the base of your skull. “You would be too. My sleep cycle sucks right now.”

“I know, I had to peel you off a police desk this morning, remember?”

You remember. Remember the lightness that shone from every inch of your being as you’d rocked against his back. Remember how the sight of your home had brought with it the lull of sleep. The way the wooden steps underneath your feet had drained away the joy that’d simmered beneath your skin only moments before. The confusion, the fear, and the eagerness to see him gone so you could retreat into your home and carry out your work.

And the way the morning had crept up on you without any warning, fireplace still empty and tea cold on the side. Jaw set with the incantations calling for protection and strength. Pleading for some semblance of peace. You groan louder, eyes stinging and sore when you try and close them. “I feel like death.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Ryan asks, casting you a sideways glance that you don’t catch, concern bouncing off your back and splattering against the window.

“Some.”

“Maybe you’re working yourself too hard?” he offers, sharp turn seeing your temple clatter noisily against the side of the cabin, and you drag your head up. “I mean, you’re doing manual labour everyday with me, and spending nights at the station looking at god knows what. Maybe you need a break?”

“That was the first night I’ve spent at a police station in a while.”

“Something tells me it won’t be the last. What are you even working on?”

“Just offering Jeremy some fresh eyes. Don’t worry, Ry, I’ve been worse. Besides.” You lean back, finally throwing him the first smile of the morning. Your shoulders thaw a little, the knots smoothed out. “You’d be lost without me.”

He returns it eagerly, lips pulling into a lopsided smirk and eyes growing bright. The first sign of true colour for the day. “You do realise I’ve been doing this for years, right? I’ve worked with lumber my whole life.”

“Was it living though, really?”

He pretends to consider this. “I mean, yeah. I’m pretty sure I had a life before you came around.”

You scoff, face tilted to the scenery flashing past out the window. Motbury rushing by. “Doubtful.”

“It was a long time ago,” he responds eventually, pulling into a post lined car park and putting on the hand break. The truck shudders into silence, your legs still buzzing. “So I guess you helped kickstart phase two.”

“I wonder what your final form will be,” you joke, leaping out and feeling the snow compact beneath your boots.

“Hopefully one that doesn’t have to put up with you.”

“Ouch.” You recoil, feigning your heartbreak before grinning broadly, the banter in the truck’s cabin having defrosted your icy morning. “You fucking wish. You’re stuck with me. Get used to it.”

“God damn it,” he groans, hiding his smile in the process of jamming on a beanie, hints of gold finally peering around the fabric. A flash of sunlight buried in his suppressed smile. “You better make yourself useful, then. Go let Lindsay know we’re here, I’ll grab the forms and be right up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you call, waving away his instructions and already heading up the stairs, warmth of the tavern glowing against your skin and pooling over your feet. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“I’m your boss!”

“And I’m not listening!”

Your knuckles rap against the door quickly, loud enough to drown out Ryan’s wails of never being able to find good help these days. Or at least, the first few knocks sound with confidence. But they slow once you notice the grooves clawing at the window frames and tracing the door, catching against your skin with sharp nips. Long, wicked channels packed with splinters, fractures of wood peeling with the slices that take chunks out of the side of the tavern.

A step back reveals more, frenzied as they work across the entrance and scrape across glass. Clinging to the support beams and scampering up the steps. Your follow them, eyes wide and breath quickening. Scampering down the steps and kicking up tufts of solid earth. Frozen grass and sod reclaimed by the snow.

And now that you’re paying attention, you see them everywhere. Littering the homes lining the street and scattered across store fronts. Deep, frantic scratches clawing at door frames and prying at windows. Violent grooves that chip paint and splinter wood, marks that see addresses jotted down in Ryan’s palm sized ‘to do’ book as he comes up beside you with an absent minded smile.

“We’ll have to go into the forest soon,” he notes, tracing a mark with the end of his pen and frowning. “Make sure we’ve got enough supplies. I like to be prepared, what with storm season hitting in a few weeks. You up for it?”

You don’t respond, too busy trying to swallow the bitter lump that’s formed in your throat. Working through the heaviness that poisons your mind, thoughts sluggish and lips slowly churning silent nonsense into the snow. Heat blooms at the base of your skull, circling your neck and nestling in the hollow of your throat, yawning just beneath the skin.

Something in your expression has his eyebrows drawing together, hand twitching with the promise of comfort. To ease the tightness of your jaw. “Y/N? Hey, are you alright?”

You manage a nod and what you hope comes across as a smile, tight enough to tear your cheeks and make your eyes water. The uncomfortably numb heat continues to spread, curling across your collar bones and burrowing between your shoulder blades.

Ryan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t have the time to pry. Muffled yelling from inside the tavern has his head turning, eyes finally releasing you.

A few clicks and the door shudders open, a bright, rosey woman beaming in the entryway. Hair like fire tumbles to her shoulders, blunt but beautiful. Her smile warms your heart, utter joy at your presence seeing the choking hold of fear and confusion scurry in retreat. Buried in layers of thick fabrics and flowing scarfs, the woman heaves the door open even further, and a gust of heat rushes around your knees. “Ryan! It’s about time you showed up.”

He grins, just as enthusiastic. “Hey Lindsay. I’d like to introduce you to my employee and second in command.” He motions to you, large palm engulfing your shoulder and smile overtaking your features. “This is Y/N.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.”

 ---

 The ladder wobbles, unsteady with the uneven flooring. You don’t look away from your task as it threatens yet again to fall with another gust of wind, fingers pinching the thin outcropping beams keeping the structure standing. Ryan casts a precautionary glance that you ignore, his worry for your safety becoming more of a hindrance than the rampant weather and Lindsay’s jokes.

But she’d long since retired with the arrival of Michael, his eyes hooded and voice thick with a yawn. Another late night at the station, and another promise of a warm drink. The morning is trickling into its final hours, clouds still not letting up.

“Are you nearly done up there, Y/N?”

You look down at Ryan, the skin of his nose red while pink stretches across his cheeks. “Yeah,” you reply, “Almost. I’ve just got one more section to secure. Would you pass me that?”

 ---

 “Thank fuck you guys are done,” exclaims Lindsay when you finally slip from the ladder, landing with a firm thud on the wooden panels Ryan has reinforced. “Get your butts inside before you fucking freeze.”

She doesn’t give you time to take in the smooth finish of the stairs, or to admire the new frames on the windows and doors. To drink in the sight of a building untouched by whatever was beginning to torment you. Instead she’s looping her arm through yours and tugging you inside, the warmth of a roaring fire embracing you like an old friend. Ryan’s quick to follow, the heavy click of the door closing shutting out the wailing wind and stray splotches of rain that hasn’t realised it should be snow.

“She’s been worrying for an hour,” comes a grunt from the bar, Michael spinning his exhausted but surprisingly soft expression on you, something warm and fragrant bubbling in his mug. It’s oddly refreshing seeing him in something other than a police uniform, something you suspect to be close to pajama’s far more comfortable. “I nearly lost it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughs, swatting him with the scarf she removes from you. He sniggers, giggles resonating into his cup. “Ignore my worst half,” she continues, moving behind the bar and pulling out some glasses, smiling so brightly that you swear the room gets warmer. “What can I get you? On the house.”

You’re taking a seat beside Michael before even looking to Ryan, the officer scowling halfheartedly at you before shoving your shoulder playfully. “Thanks for fixing my house, fuckface.”

You shove back, and he struggles to keep the contents of his mug from spilling. His grin, however, has no trouble pouring across his lips. “You’re welcome, asshole. Remember, if I put it together I can take it apart.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes narrow, and your eyebrow cocks.

Spinning in your seat, your call of ‘boss, get the bloody crowbar’ rams into Ryan’s chest, knees clattering against his. He steadies you, hand catching your elbow before you topple into a pile of Michael’s laughter. “Easy there,” he smirks, eyes dancing on the blush decorating your cheeks before he spins you back towards the bar, “how about we don’t destroy things today?”

You grumble, accepting the tea Lindsay hands you, Ryan receiving a mug with a diet coke can inside. “I guess…”

“Just think of the paperwork,” Michael offers helpfully, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah, speaking of paperwork.” Ryan ferrets around in his bag, slipping free an envelope filled with forms. He carefully plucks one from the bunch, sliding it across the bar to Lindsay’s waiting hand. “Here, fill this out. It’s just to-”

“I know what it’s for,” she sighs teasingly, bending to the paper after pestering Michael for a pen. “I’ve done this how many times now?”

“5.”

“Jesus Christ,” laughs Michael, rocking back in his seat slightly before crawling on his elbows towards the paper, scanning the page. “And how many times have you charged us the full amount?”

“I mean-” Ryan squirms, looking anywhere besides Michael’s raised eyebrows and challenging glare. “It’s, what did you call it, Y/N?”

“Mates rates,” you chime, sipping your drink happily, fingertips scalding. “Lauren taught me that phrase.”

“Bloody Aussies,” Ryan laughs, shaking his head.

“She’s Kiwi, but that’s cool.”

He squints. “Same thing.”

“Don’t you dare let her hear you say that. She will murder you.”

“I’d like to see her try-”

“How dare you-”

“You wanna go, Y/N? Huh?”

“FIGHT ME HAYWOOD-”

“The point is,” interjects Lindsay, scribbling out the amount Ryan had already penned in and adding one much larger, “we’re paying you properly this time. Whether you like it or not. And if you don’t take the cash,” she jams a handful of notes into his shocked expression, her’s smug, “then we’ll give it to you next time the Widow of the Woods decided to pay a visit without a booking.”

You stop drinking, the laughter that errupts licking at your skin and leaving lines of tingling, static confusion. It only ceases once Michael lets out a monumental yawn, eyes watering and body involuntarily stretching. He rubs his face, groaning while Lindsay’s attention snaps immediately to him.

“Right, young man,” she instructs, “you’re coming with me. You need some fucking sleep.” She starts to shuffle him towards the back door, waving at you and insisting that you stay for as long as you’re comfortable.

Once they’re gone you turn to Ryan, who offers you a lopsided smile. “I love them.”

“They really do make everyone that walks through that door feel like family,” he muses softly, motioning for you to follow him on the venture closer to the fire.

You go without complaint, settling into one of the couches and sighing with the embrace of the cushions. In the amber light he screams autumn; body painted in the golds, oranges and rich, deep reds of turning leaves. “So,” you start, watching the content expression pressed against his features, taking in the comfort wrapped in his smile. “That’s something I don’t know about you.”

“What?”

“Family.” You sink further in your seat, kicking off your shoes and bringing your socks as close to the hearth as you can, balancing them on the coffee table. “Namely, do you have any?”

He’s quiet, but it’s not a cold silence. Instead it’s apprehensive, draping across your left side and hanging in your hair. When he doesn’t respond you turn, but his eyes remain intent on the flames dancing in front of you. Chewing your bottom lip, an apologetic hand rests atop his, and he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, that was kinda rude.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, a tight tug that looks out of place.

Your eyebrows knit, palm beginning to burn with the comfort you attempt to push through, watching him relax further and further into his seat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” he admits, recognising the surprise that flits across your face. This time the smile is genuine, if not a little small. “Sorry, I’ve not talked about my family in a while.”

“We don’t have too,” you rush, retracting your hand only for him to catch you fingers. Instead Ryan follows your lead, kicking off his shoes and resting them atop the table, too.

“You’re making me sound broken,” he laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “C’mon, quiz me. I can handle it.”

“Just… just tell me about them.”

“Then we’ll trade?”

“You want to hear about mine?”

He grins, shuffling in his seat and leaning towards you, getting comfy. “Isn’t that what humans do?”

“Humans?”

“People,” he corrects, laughing at your expression. “I meant people. Stop judging me, it’s been a long morning.”

You consider your options, working over your family history in your head. “I suppose we can trade life stories. As long as I get to hear about the Widow of the Woods, too.”

“I did promise you a ghost story.”

“You did.”

“Well,” he sighs, more exhausted and aching than you’ve ever heard. “I guess you’ll be getting 2 ghost stories for the price of 1.”

[prompt-master]

I Miss Everything You

[askthesquips]

@soluscoiotes

WHOO HERES A FIRST ATTEMPT

this probably isnt the most accurate but practice makes perfect so hopefully ill write more and improve!

OHHHH I LOVE THIS!!! IT’S VERY GOOD (minus a few minor errors, harmless grammar stuff really)!!!! AND ALSO VERY CUTE

the idea of michael having jeremy as a lab rat to wacky concoctions he’s made is a very good thing i approve of 100%

and also jeremy and michael being wingmen for their squips

-Lars

“Jeremy you can’t do this to me!” P whined, following along as Jeremy had made his way to to Michael’s house which was right across the street.

“Yes I can.” He replied.

“But why?” P whined.

“Because if I can finally ask Michael out then you can finally ask his squip out.” Jeremy replied, ringing the door bell and waiting.

“Jeremy!” P whined flapping his hands at his sides. He was really trying contain himself. One one hand P did want to finally say something to D and get an answer, but on the other he was scared at the idea of it and needed to calm down to avoid fully chickening out.

Suddenly the sound of a lock being undone made Jeremy and P both jump in surprise as Michael came into view, followed by D behind him as the door opened more.

P was pretty sure every time he saw D his…well his chest, felt like it was being constricted and if he had a heart he would’ve gone into cardiac arrest.

Let’s face it D was the cutest guy P had seen and it wasn’t easy to handle.

“Hey Michael!” Jeremy greeted, noticing Michael’s breif glance behind him noticing that Michael could see P right now.

Of course Jeremy assumed Michael would be worried as to which squip was present after the voltage incident. Meanwhile Jeremy became familar enough with D that seeing the figure now was like spotting a semi new piece of furniture and mentally noting that its been there for awhile; however, not always been there as he could recall when it wasn’t.

“Hey Jer!” Michael grinned quickly tugging Jeremy inside to pull him into a quick kiss and lead him to the kitchen.

Just as they got there Michael had already gotten on ovenmitts to pull out a tray to add to the other full tray worth of crescent rolls, however they appeared swollen past what could be considered a normal size of said food.

“I just tried making crescent rolls with cheese in them try one!” Michael insisted, taking off the ovenmitts to grab one before yelping as he seemed to forget which tray had just been taken out of the oven.

D shook his head with a small smile. Michael meant well but this wasn’t the best executed plan.

“Michael I’ve been here for less than a minute and you already do this?!” Jeremy exclaimed, grabbing thd nearest kitchen towel to run under the sink.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Michael assured showing his hand.

“It’ll just be a bit red later.”

Jeremy gave it a glance before pressing the wet kitchen towel to Michael’s finger tips.

“You say that now, but later you’ll feel way over sensitive touching everything and anything” He replied.

“Whatever, but you should still try one!” Michael insisted before grabbing from the correct tray with his other hand.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow and in all honesty? Not that P had any expiriences or expertise at all to go off, but he wasn’t sure he’d want to eat it either.

“Oh come on! Youre not gonna puke, I promise.” Michael insisted.

There was a pause and P and Jeremy simultaneously looked to D for input and confirmation whatever Michael had made wasn’t gonna leave Jeremy heaving over a trash can later.

Michael was known for eating strange food combinations that Jeremy, having a weaker stomach, just couldn’t handle.

D also didn’t have much to go off of, but he at least watched Michael make it.

“It should be fine. Worst comes to worst it may taste bad?” D responded with a shrug.

There was a breif second Michael looked to D and back at Jeremy before connecting the dots.

“Oh right I forgot you can see him…and hey! It’s not my fault Jeremy can’t handle things like sprite and chocolate ice cream.” Michael responded with a fake huff.

“We were in fifth grade, and you said and I quote. ‘It’ll taste good Jeremy, its light colored food and dark colored food mixed and thats hardly different from how most foods are made, if vanilla ice cream and pepsi or coca-cola can be a good combo then sprite and chocolate should be the same…like color theory stuff but with food!’” Jeremy mimicked.

P gave a small chuckle having seen that memory replay in Jeremy’s mind of him heaving over a trashcan as Michael giggled and ate the horrible concoction whilst rubbing Jeremy’s back.

“Come on. I thought you’d be fine, just try this.” Michael whined holding it out.

Giving in Jeremy ate the strange food combination and waited.

P didn’t feel Jeremy’s stomach grow irritated or begin to try to squeeze itself back up his esophagus. That was a good sign.

Another minute passed.

“Hand me another I guess.”

“Finally!” Michael fist pumped as Jeremy took another.

Using a spatula Michael had then proceeded to transfer the crescent rolls he made onto the cooler pan and took it to his basement to eat while they played more video games.

If anything was clear from the fact that Jeremy said he wasn’t sure if he’d spend the night or not it was that as far as he was concerned they weren’t leaving until P confessed to D.

So for now P crossed his legs and sat on the floor staring to the ground.

I mean god he couldn’t just 'talk to D’. What was he to say? Humans had it easier, there was things like scents, sounds, and texture to speak of, but with other squips what did you have to talk about that wasn’t already known?

P sat in place thinking hard about what to say, fidgeting and flapping his hands until he was startled by the hand that landed on his shoulder.

P looked to notice D not offering a smile but a look of concern and confusion which to say the least was both comforting and probably the best as if D smiled P might lose any ability to talk that he had.

“Something the matter?” D asked.

“What?- No its just thinking about something-”

“Like struggling to find an answer to something? I could help.” D immediately offered.

There was a second long pause of P finding it ironic that D could give the answer before D was the only one that could hive the overall end goal answer before D held up and finger as of taking notice of something.

“Hold on just a minute…” He said as immediately, D moved back over to Michael and leaned over his shoulder where Michael showed him something on his phone with a smile that seemed to make D seem quite surprised.

It took P a minute to take notice that Jeremy had sent Michael a text that he was now gonna taunt the squip over every time the saw Michael from now on.

“My squips got a crush on yours, feel free to show this to D”

D had glanced back and and forth between the text and P before asking.

“Is this?…”

P however couldn’t bring himself to look at D as he gave a nod, feeling like making eye contact at this point would make him explode.

Mere seconds later D had pulled P into what would’ve been a suffocating hug if they were physical beings with lungs.

“Hey P, look at me for a minute. It’s really important.” D said with slight urgency in his voice.

The moment P lifted his head up D leaned in to give P a kiss. Said kiss made him freeze for a couple minutes because

’D is kissing me!’

'hes kissing me!’

'He’s actually kissing me!’

'Oh wait I should probably kiss back-’

However before P could D pulled away with a laugh at P’s late response and asked.

“So was that the answer you needed?”

P for once was actually quick to respond this time around with a smile.

“If it was can I get a couple more for confirmation?”

[verodots]

out of season

(also on ao3)

When he walks in, it’s like the sun pours in after him.

Jeremy swallows a lump in his throat that melts into a seed, and plants itself into the pit of his stomach, finding a home amongst frozen soil and butterflies.

In some way, he’s the prettiest boy Jeremy has ever seen, wrapped in red and just absolutely glowing like a gold sunlit photo as he stands in the threshold of the quaint, ill-lit shop. Jeremy’s heart drums against his chest, hummingbird wings in his ribcage.

(He had felt this once before. Quick pulses and seeds that grew purple spring flowers that he fostered with care.)

The boy looks out of place standing next to paint chipped walls and stacks of old glass pottery; out of season in the same way that Jeremy is when surrounded by summery orchids and roses and violets.

But the boy isn’t blue winter like Jeremy, who embodies overcast skies and layers of morning frost. As he approaches the front counter, a bonfire warmth spreading with each step he takes, Jeremy thinks of autumn, crisp air and crunchy leaves underfoot. The boy tries to drown his earth tones in deep red, red knit, shoulders lifted, head down, hands in his pockets, but it doesn’t hide the way the sunlight follows him like a spotlight, filtering through the windows.

Jeremy forgets himself for a moment. Forgets to shut his laptop. Forgets to straighten his posture. Forgets that he is a worker who is paid to greet and help customers, not fall head over heels for them at a glance.  

The boy shifts in place and glances up. Jeremy blinks and pricks his thumb on a thorn he had been trimming under the counter. They both speak at the same time.

“Hello—“

“Uh, hey—“

Then they both clamp their mouths shut. The boy looks back down and bites his lip. Jeremy looks down at his miniscule injury and feels his ears tinge pink with stupid, stupid embarrassment.

At least the boy has the good grace to make a sound of awkward laughter, while Jeremy struggles to gain what little bearings he had in the first place. He rehearses a line in his head, practiced protocol he uses on little old ladies who wander in on rainy days or browsing teenagers who stop by after school lets out. He snaps his head up abruptly, exhaling.

“What can I help you with—“

“Okay, this is might sound weird—“

Their voices overlap again. This time, Jeremy doesn’t get the chance to feel embarrassed because the boy cracks a helpless half-smile in his direction that causes Jeremy’s mind to go blank. And the seed that settled in the cold pit of his stomach does something (sprouts? takes root?) that sends a rush up his spine.

“We’re kind of in sync, aren’t we?” the boy chuckles softly, finally lowering his shoulders. He takes one hand out of his pocket to gesture to Jeremy. “You go first.”

“I, um,” Jeremy stammers. The boy is even prettier up close, cheeks slightly rosy from the chilly outdoor air, dark mocha eyes bright behind a pair of round, outdated glasses. There’s a radiance about him that not even the muted grey filter of the shop can cast a shadow across.

His mouth feels dryer the longer he stares; the boy is waiting for him to say something. Say something. Say anything.

“I’m Jeremy!”

His own reaction is instantaneous: covering his face with his hands and muffling a mortified groan. The boy, on the other hand, takes a second to process Jeremy’s colossal social fumble.

“Oh, yeah?” he drawls out, unsure, but recovers from his surprise quickly. “Oh—Well, uh, I’m Michael.”

And for the briefest of moments, Jeremy’s heart completely stops.

Michael.

Time moves in slow motion as Jeremy creates just enough space between his fingers to see an outstretched hand offered to him across the counter.

Michael.

The boy’s name echoes in his head, and everything in his body starts to move at once

The butterflies make his insides soar, his heart pounds a loud, steady rhythm, and that damn seed shoots up into his throat and blooms red red red with a hiccup of—

“Michael!”

Jeremy flinches at his volume at the same time the boy–Michael–does. Self-conscious, Jeremy moves a hand from his face to flatten his hair, eyes looking anywhere but at Michael.

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”

“No, yeah, I mean…that’s me,” Michael clears his throat, another nervous chuckle following. “Nice to meet you, Jeremy!”

Jeremy looks up just in time to see Michael taking the liberty to reach the rest of the way over the counter and grab his hand in a handshake. Michael’s grip is firm and enthusiastic; his large hand encompasses Jeremy’s thin, bony one. He notes the heat of Michael’s skin, warming his own clammy hand until the tips of his fingers don’t feel numb anymore.

When Jeremy dares to shift his gaze upward, meeting Michael’s eyes, his whole face starts to burn, cheeks filling with a red, red color. He manages to squeeze Michael’s hand back weakly, and Michael grins.

For just a moment, Jeremy doesn’t feel like winter or autumn or even spring. Michael makes him feel like something entirely new. A feeling that is much too fleeting the second their hands part.

Jeremy masks his disappointment by pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his knuckles. “Uh, how can I help you, Mi-Michael?”

Michael’s face lights up now that all the awkwardly placed introductions are aside. He’s nearly bouncing in place when he explains what he’s looking for. “Oh, man! When I was passing by, I saw this super rad flower in the window. The Fire Flower! You know, from Mario? I’m not a big flower person, but man, that just seemed like such a rare find! Do you—is it for sale?”

Jeremy is already stumbling out of his stool before Michael can even finish his question, maneuvering around the counter and hiding his face so Michael won’t catch the fond smile on his lips. It’s like Michael just keeps getting better and better.

“Yeah, yeah! Of course! Let me just—just get it for you! Hang on,” he motions for Michael to stay put while he weaves through the aisles to the front of the store. The flower in question isn’t actually one with a price. It’s more of as decorative piece that Jeremy had made a few days prior, a red daisy that he slapped some glue and foam on and then stuck it in a cheap vase before putting it in the very corner of the front window in his own feeble attempt to add some character to the otherwise dull shop.

He has to stand on his tip toes to grab the vase now, careful not to drop it or snap the flower’s stem. He examines it over once as he carries it back to the front, checking to make sure no petals are falling off or wilting. Thankfully, the daisy is in perfect condition, and he happily holds it out to Michael, who is even more thrilled to see the flower up close.

“Woah! This is amazing! Do you guys have any more of these? Or anything else like it?” He doesn’t look up from the flower, but Jeremy is still touched by Michael’s admiration for his amateur handiwork.

Fiddling with his sweater sleeves again, Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry, it’s, um, one of a kind… Since I-I only made one. I didn’t think anyone would actually ask about it.”

The statement causes Michael’s head to snap up, his mouth parted in a comical ‘O’ shape. “Dude, one of a kind? And you made this,” Michael exclaims, shaking the vase none too gently. Jeremy almost reaches out to stop him, but catches himself at the last second. Oblivious, Michael continues, “I’m talking to a real flower artist here! How much? I think I have like fifteen bucks in my pockets…somewhere…”

Michael shifts the vase into one arm, shoving his other hand into his pocket to dig around for change. This time, Jeremy helpfully takes the vase for him, his heart jumping when Michael, tongue poked out in concentration, offers him a grateful glance.

“No, uh, don’t worry about it. You can just have it. For—for free, you know?”

Michael’s eyes widen. “Wait, what—“

“I’m serious,” Jeremy walks back to the other side of the counter, touching one of the black eyes that are hot glued on the flower. He’d constructed the simple design with the help of old yellow and black craft foam, and it’s hardly a job well done. “This was really easy to make. I just used some old stuff lying around my garage. It’s fine if you take it. Just make sure you change the water every few days or so.”

“Yeah, but,” Michael runs a hand through his hair, lips pursed, “I can’t just not pay for art.”

Jeremy snorts, partly because of Michael’s exaggerated statement, and partly because talking to Michael is so miraculously easy. He definitively slides the vase across the countertop. “I’m a florist, not an artist. I can make more if I want.”

“You should!” Michael blurts with a suddenness that shocks them both. “I would—I really want to see the other stuff you can make! Like, if you get any more ideas for cool video game bouquets I want to be the first to know.”

Jeremy swallows thickly again, and the sprout in his stomach, his chest, his throat tickles and prods him. He wants to be brave, to say what’s on his mind, to live with one less regret.

He sees red, daring, warm, comforting red. In Michael’s jacket. In the daisy. In his own cheeks. In the petals that bloom in his stomach. Red, so tempting that he knows he has to do something.

So, Jeremy takes a deep breath, feeling brave and red and entirely out of season.

“You can always call. I-I mean, if you have an idea or a special request of your own.”

That something (that red, red something) in his stomach rewards him with a breath of air in his lungs and a giddy tingle in his limbs. Michael rewards him with the widest smile he’s seen yet and a fumbling attempt to dig through his pockets once more for something.

Finally, Michael holds out his cell phone, new contact information pulled up on the screen.

Jeremy offers a business card, the contact number for Heere Family Flowers printed in bold.

They both speak at once.

“You can just put your number in—“

“This is our card, you can—“

And they both clamp their mouths shut.

Jeremy goes pink again. Michael follows in suit. He retreats his hand back into his pocket at light speed, and it’s like the phone was never there in the first place.

“Oh,” Michael tries to laugh off his mistake, but his voice cracks in the slightest, “You—you meant call the store…”

The awkward tension is palpable. Jeremy’s muscles clench, and he wants to cough up the metaphorical petals in his throat, but he forces the sensation back down. He can fix this.

“Yeah, but,” he scrambles to find a pen, ducking under the counter when there’s none to be found on the countertop. He spots a blue gel pen under his stool, bumps his head on the underside of the counter when he stands back up, and continues mission despite Michael’s noise of confusion and worry.

The business card is packed with text on the front, but the back is blank, and that’s where Jeremy scribbles his name, number, and a tiny doodle of Yoshi. It’s messier than he would like, but it’s legible. He’s just amazed that his shaky hand was even able to hold a pen correctly.

“Here.” He feels a bit breathless as he holds out the business card between obviously shaking fingers. Michael studies the small card, before slowly reaching out and taking it gently from Jeremy’s grasp. Jeremy breathes out a sigh of relief. “You can call me too.” he says, then quickly tacks on, “If-If you have any ideas!”

Michael, looking surprised himself, smiles down at the card. Then, as he pockets the note, grins at Jeremy as well. “I’ll definitely give you a call! Thanks for everything!”

He slips a folded five-dollar bill in the empty tip jar sitting on the edge of the counter before he starts to leave. Jeremy watches him go, heart still thumping. Still feeling red red red.  

“I’ll see you around, Jeremy!” Michael calls as he steps out the door, waving. Jeremy mirrors the gesture. Then Michael is gone.

And the sun follows after.

[transvavsquad]

title: life’s about to get good ship: freewood (background jackeoff and jeremichael) words: 1552 summary: Kings/Soulmate AU notes: a commission for @meganna2525, thank you so much!

Gavin tucked himself further into his scarf, keeping his cloak pulled close against the harsh winds of the sea. The boat rocked precariously on the waves but the man at the helm‒ Matt, his mind supplied, captain of Ramsey’s navy‒ smiled kindly towards him when he threw a nervous glance towards him at the crash of the water.

“Not long now,” the captain said. “See that monolith on the horizon? That’s it.”

Gavin smiled to himself.

Ramsey’s kingdom was isolated and rural‒ Burnie had once called it both an achievement (hence the name) and a mistake. The full kingdom spanned a cluster of islands a few days off the coast of the mainland, but Ramsey and his closest court members lived on the largest island together.

Gavin had basically been forced to go.

The message of the revolt had reached them three days before the revolt itself had. Burnie had approached Gavin with a bag, a cloak, and a letter, begging him to run. “To Geoff,” the king had said. “He’ll know to keep you safe.”

The boat lurched as it hit the shoreline, and Gavin stumbled. Someone grabbed his covered arm and steadied him with hyena laughter. “Still clumsy as ever, buddy.”

Gavin smiled sheepishly up at Geoff before being pulled into a hug. He grasped tightly at the fabric, breathing in familiar scents‒ before, when he was young, Geoff had once smelled of alcohol, but he’d dropped the stuff later on just before he’d left and begun smelling more like fire smoke and the special residue they used to preserve paper used in older books.

“I missed you,” Gavin said, feeling a bit childish, but he felt Geoff rub slightly at his back and knew it was fine.

“I missed you too, kiddo,” the older man said, pulling back and gripping his shoulders tightly. He smiled widely and pulled him around, slinging an arm over his shoulder and guiding him down onto the dock. “Now come meet the others.”

Geoff took him down to the beach and took Burnie’s letter from his hands, reading while guiding Gavin slowly into the city’s center. Gavin looked around, taking in the haphazardly made houses and the sky-breaching tower, quietly wondering what the view would be like at the top. Someone shouted in the distance, making birds appear like a cloud from the forest. Gavin watched as a few people came out from the treeline, dressed freely in varying outfits and colors. The man that came out of the mining house had Gavin smiling as he recognized another person here.

“Hello, Gavin!” Jack said, catching everyone’s attention as he came forward to embrace Gavin as well. His warmth was comforting in the same as Geoff’s, or Burnie’s‒ not only was he Geoff’s closest advisor, he had been Gavin’s nanny, so to speak, on days when the kings had been in meetings.

He was also Geoff’s soulmate.

“Boys,” Geoff said as Jack pulled away. The other three men came closer and Gavin adjusted his scarf slightly. “This is Gavin. He’s visiting from Burnie’s kingdom, for a bit, so be fucking nice. Or don’t, I don’t care.”

“Geoff!” Gavin cried, shoving towards the man, who only laughed.

“Seriously, though, don’t break the kid. Burnie picks favorites.”

Everyone laughed as Gavin pulled his scarf up around his head, flushed.

“I’m Michael,” said one, holding hands with open-shirted man. “This is Jeremy.”

“New soulmates,” Jack said. “Jeremy isn’t old enough, yet, but Michael is by a year.”

“How did you...?” Gavin asked, glancing towards where Jeremy should have had gloves on, but Michael laughed.

“He never fucking wears a shirt! It’s almost impossible to avoid skin contact with this fuck. A good thing, though,” Michael smiled, nudging shoulders with Jeremy, who laughed too.

“Oh, yeah,” Geoff remembered. “Gav, aren’t you twenty five now? Have you...” He seemed to only just notice the gloves on Gavin’s hand, and the boy shrugged.

“Not yet. A few months out.” Geoff nodded, and turned to the third man.

“I’m Ryan,” he said, and Gavin noted as he held out his hand, there was a scar running down the middle of it. It was familiar, like something from when he was young‒

“Oh my god,” he recalled. “Oh, my bloody god‒ Ryan, it’s you‒”

Gavin jumped forward and hugged him as his childhood friend laughed. Ryan hadn’t been a prince, not like him. Rather, he’d been the son of one of the cooks, and had always snuck into the halls to mess with Gavin when they were young. Ryan was older than him by a few years but had always been there to entertain him when Jack was busy. It was nice to see him again‒ when Gavin had reached about fifteen, Ryan had disappeared after coming of age and setting out on his own. They’d always been close, and it had been devastating to Gavin when Ryan had simply left.

“It’s good to see you,” Gavin said into Ryan’s chest, and the older man laughed.

“And you.”

As it turned out, the revolt was coming for the islands too, but Geoff hadn’t heard yet. In fact, he didn’t find out until they were on his land a few months into Gavin’s stay.

It was, coincidentally, the day after Gavin’s birthday.

He woke up with the feeling of wrongwrongwrong resounding in his chest and mind. The sounds of battle and pounding on his door reached him afterwards.

Ryan was in the doorway, a battle raging behind him on the square, a few more faces from Geoff’s guard on the courtyard. “Geoff told me to give you this,” he said, holding out a decorated rapier in front of him to Gavin. “But I don’t know why‒”

Gavin took it by the handle and tested its weight. “To fight, you daft idiot,” he told Ryan, who spluttered. “Why else would he have you give me my sword?”

“Your sword?” Ryan blinked, watching as Gavin moved to grab a shirt. “It’s got the crest of the heir to Burnie’s kingdom on it, it can’t be your...”

He trailed off as Gavin grinned sharply up towards him, the grip on the rapier tightening. He hadn’t know Gavin was the prince, back then‒ only thought he was another son of one of the maids, or a messenger for one of the guards. Burnie had implored him not to tell Ryan, despite wanting to. A secret prince had to be secret, after all, to everyone.

“Oh,” Ryan said weakly, flushing slightly as he realized he’d spent years of his childhood playing with the next heir to one of the biggest kingdoms. “Yeah, okay.”

Gavin was locked in a thieve’s fight with one of the last remaining members from the revolt, everyone else either locked in battle or tending to wounded. The woman was using a rapier as well, but clearly hadn’t used one before‒ in their fight, so far, she’d gotten more quick strikes in than he had as she waved the sword wildly around.

Gavin stepped back slightly to regain his breath, and she followed hesitantly, their blades crossed between them. He pressed a hand to his side, hissing slightly, before he took a deep breath, pulling back, and feinting a thrust towards her right side. In a panic, she made to block the hit, but he was quick enough to graze her left hip before pulling back to parry to thrust she made when she’d realized. She hissed, frustrated, and was distracted enough to let Gavin get in another hit.

Annoyed, the woman decided to play dirty, and kicked up a cloud of dirt towards Gavin before sweeping him off his feet. He yelped as he fell, and the others did too in the distance‒ the woman kicked his dropped rapier away before lifting her own to his neck.

She was stabbed through the chest.

As her body fell off to the side, Ryan stood above her, panting heavily, throwing his own sword to the ground beside Gavin before bending down and reaching out his hand. “C’mon, then,” he laughed. “Up you get!”

Gavin smiled and grasped his hand.

Both their breaths caught as a warmth spread through them‒ in Ryan’s blue eyes, Gavin swore he could see fireworks ignite. His own heart seemed to beat loudly in his chest, a gentle rhythm that made him sway slightly as Ryan pulled him to his feet. “There you are,” he smiled. “I was hoping...”

“Yeah,” Gavin breathed. “Me too. You’re lovely, I couldn’t imagine anyone else, really. Even when we were younger...”

Ryan smiled, still grasping Gavin’s hand in his own. “Me too.”

Geoff approached the both of them. He glanced between them, towards their hands, and then he nodded. “Yeah, that figures,” he mumbled. “I’m happy for you both, but can we continue with the other, more pressing shit?”

Ryan reluctantly tugged his hand away, instead settling his forehead against Gavin’s and whispering a soft later before picking his sword back up and going back into the fight. Gavin smiled as Jack tugged him away towards the side of Geoff’s house, worrying over the cuts on his body, but Gavin barely felt them sting.

“Yeah,” he whispered to himself, watching as Ryan threw himself into the fight, a new type of fondness blossoming in his chest. “Later.”

[bellshellsrage]

Magical Difficulties

[DISCLAIMER: I don’t own AH or HP in any way.]

Word Count: 3,110

Pairing: AH x OC

Summary:

         Secrets are being told, and hearts are being shared.

                                         Chapter 3: Mischief

     September went on as it usually did; homework and new schedules, reuniting with housemates, and helping the first years so they didn’t get lost on their way to class.

    I enjoyed the first few weeks, but the thought of what came at the end of the year still haunted me. One day as I walked to Potions, my mind cluttered with memories and thoughts,  I passed a door that I hadn’t seen in a long time. The hall was clear as I glanced around me.

“Alright, room. What do you have to show me?” I muttered aloud as I slowly opened the door.

    The room looked like any other room in the castle and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. After some time, candles lit themselves and drew my attention to the center of the room. Standing in the faint glow of the candles was a single chair facing a mirror. I glanced behind me, making sure that no one had followed me in, before slowly walking forward. As I gently placed my hand on the soft, worn fabric of the chair a voice spoke to me.

“Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt you.”

I jumped, looked around for the source of the sound. Finding nothing, I sat in the cushion cautiously. “Who said that? Where are you?”

     A figure appeared in the mirror, and my breath caught. Standing in front of me was someone I had never met, but had heard stories of and had wanted to meet, but never got the chance.

“I know what you’re thinking about.” She said, her hair changing color slightly. “You’re worried about your friends.”

I sat forward a bit, wanting to figure out how I was talking to someone who had died in the War. “How do you know that I’m worried about them?”

“Because I’ve been there. From one Hufflepuff to another, trust me when I say that it’ll be alright.”

My jaw dropped as my brain tried to form words, but nothing came out.

“Miss Renee, what are you doing in here?”

    I whipped around and stood quickly to see McGonagall standing behind me, a worried yet knowing expression on her face.

“I was… She…” I stuttered as I glanced at the empty mirror. “How did she?…”

The Headmaster stepped forward and gently placed her hand on my shoulder. “That was Nymphadora Tonks, and you should have never found this room. But because you have, why don’t we go have some tea in my office? I’m sure you have many questions.”

“But I have to get to Potions.” I muttered, still trying to wrap my head around what I had seen.

McGonagall chuckled as she lead me to the door. “I’ll let your professor know where you are.”

    I followed her as we passed many classrooms on the way to her office. Most of them had their doors open, and I couldn’t help but look into the rooms that I knew my friends were in. Geoff and Ryan met my eyes with worried expressions and I knew that they would have questions later. Alfredo nudged Michael’s arm and they whispered to each other as I passed. Andy paled as he saw my expression and I shook my head, telling him not to worry.

“Your friends are watching us.” McGonagall chuckled as we neared the staircase to her office.

“They’re probably wondering what I did to have to follow you to your office.” I replied, my voice low.

    A faint smirk crossed her face before she ushered me into the large room. Books filled the walls and above them hung the portraits of the past headmasters. Some of them glared at me, but one offered a comforting nod of his head. The man in the next frame met my eyes with a solemn expression, as if he knew exactly why I was there.

“Please, have a seat.” I glanced over my shoulder to see that a tea set had appeared. At closer inspection, I saw that there were three cups.

“Professor? There are only two of us here.” My voice came out as a meek question, and she nodded wordlessly.

“Think again, Renee.”

I jumped as a voice echoed behind me, but rolled my eyes when I saw Ray floating in midair. He was laughing and I huffed. “That’s not funny!”

“It was slightly amusing.” I glanced at the Headmaster, who sat with a smile. “Come sit and we’ll talk about what you saw in the mirror.”

I took a deep breath as the room grew solemn again. After a few awkward moments, Ray cleared his throat. “So, the mirror huh? Who did you see?”

“Tonks. She told me not to worry about… everyone.”

Ray nodded. “That’s good ole Tonks for ya. She worried about everyone and look where it got her.”

I blinked and studied his face. “You knew her, didn’t you?”

“I knew of her. Heard stories while I was here. And then I saw her fight.” He shook his head. “Badass doesn’t even begin to describe her.”

“Yes, she was very good. She was also a member of the Order, and a Hufflepuff.”

I nodded. “She said that I should trust that everything would be okay. But how can she say that when-”

“When she’s dead?” Ray interrupted before he reached for his mug of tea. His hand went through it and he huffed in anger. “Dead people can be right, you know.”

“Or they can be a pain in the ass.” I replied with a slight smile. Ray smirked with a shrug.

McGonagall sat forward slightly. “What he means is that you should listen to the past, but only to help you in the future.”

“Careful, McG, you’re starting to sound like Dumbledore.”

McGonagall and Ray both smiled at each other, leaving me out of the loop. “Alright. It should be time for your next class by now. Go on.”

I stood and turned to the door before glancing back. McGonagall had stood, her long robes falling back into place and her hat perfectly straight on her head. Ray floated beside her and offered a slight smile, his hoodie pulled tight as he tucked his hands into the pockets. “Can we do this again? I would love to hear more about what happened.”

Ray’s smile faded. “Maybe the past should stay in the past.”

“Come whenever you need to, dear.”

I nodded and headed back to the halls, my mind more scattered than it was before. Students brushed past me and I moved easily between them. Suddenly, two hands caught my arms.

“Renee! Are you okay? Why did you have to go with McGonagall?” Ryan’s voice shook in worry and I patted his hands reassuringly.

“I’m alright. I saw something that I wasn’t meant to, so she and I had a little talk. Ray was there too.”

    My explanation did little to soothe his questions, and he pestered me for answers as we continued down the hall. Geoff and Kent caught up with us, and they were adamant to know what was going on.

“I told you! It’s fine, really.” I huffed, growing annoyed.

I glanced up the hallway to see Michael, Gavin, and Alfredo coming towards us. They each had huge grins on their faces and I groaned. “Hey, troublemaker!”

Gavin squealed in excitement. “Now we can drag you into our shenanigans!”

“It wasn’t like that, you guys.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring their attempts to convince me to join them.

“Oh my god! I thought you were a goner!” Andy exclaimed as he rushed towards me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

“Woah now! Calm down.” Michael growled as he pulled Andy off of me.

A large group had formed around me and some of the other students grumbled as they tried to squeeze past us. “Guys! Can we just go to class? I’ll explain everything later.”

    Some of them nodded and drifted into the crowd, while Michael grabbed Andy and dragged him away. I could hear the reprimands from the older boy as they faded into the distance. Shaking my head, I kept on my way to the classroom, knowing that word would travel among the group until everyone knew about my visit to the Headmaster’s office.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, and I dreaded dinner and the thousand questions that I would surely face. When I sat down beside Matt, he smiled at me. ‘How was your day?”

I gave him a sidelong glare, refusing to answer. Geoff, Jack, and Kent joined us and I prepared myself for a flood of requests for answers, but none came. As we ate, conversation was directed elsewhere until I sighed.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

Geoff shook his head. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“But we’ll listen when you’re ready.” Jack added.

I met all of their eyes individually, seeing different things in each of their expressions. “I saw Tonks. And then McG caught me and we had tea with Ray.”

Kent scowled. “Ray can’t have tea, though.”

“Out of everything she just said, you question the tea?” Geoff squawked before he turned toward me. “What did Tonks say?”

I stared at my hands as I told them everything, and when I was finished I sighed. “They said that I could go have tea with them again if I want.”

Matt shook his head. “That’s insane. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I mean… It’s not everyday that you sit down for tea with the Headmaster and a ghost, right?” We all chuckled and finished our meal before wandering out into the courtyard where the rest of our friends had gathered.

Jeremy and Trevor were talking and they both rushed forward when they saw me. “We heard what happened. Are you alright? Do you need something?”

I shook my head and patted their arms. “I’m okay, guys. Really.” Glancing over their shoulders, I met Ryan’s sharp gaze. He was watching me closely. “I’m alright.” I muttered, directing my statement towards him.

“Well, all this excitement has made me want to go to Hogsmeade. How about we go this weekend?” Meg suggested, drawing everyone’s attention away from me and toward the prospect of venturing into the wizarding town.

Lindsay appeared beside me and draped her arm over my shoulders. “We got you. Anything else weird happens, you let us girls know.”

“I will. But I have a feeling that Geoff will know before anyone else.”

She chuckled and nodded in agreement. “He’s weird like that.”

“He’s overprotective like that.” I countered.

Geoff perked up. “I heard that!”

The next day, I woke up to see Salem staring at the window.

“What’s wrong, girl?” I muttered, earning a meow in reply. She started to pace on the windowsill and I scowled as I got out of bed. “Salem? What’s out there?”

When I looked, it took a moment to comprehend. A figure was standing beside the Whomping Willow and seemed to calm it’s swinging branches. I dressed quickly and ventured into the common room to see that Geoff and Jack were sitting drinking coffee.

“Morning, Renee. How’d you sleep?”

“There’s someone by the Willow. They cast a spell on it.” I scowled deeper when they exchanged glances.

Geoff stood and walked away from me as he shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

    I opened my mouth to argue, but Jack shook his head at me. Frowning, I left the common room and went to the Great Hall. Some of the group was already there, sitting together at the Gryffindor table. Walking by, I ruffled Michael’s hair before sitting beside Gavin.

“Why do you have to do that?” Michael grumbled as he glared at me.

I offered him a smile before shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes and Gavin laughed before a group of Gryffindors walked by. They were talking about the Quidditch match coming up and how great the team was, and Gavin frowned. I glanced at the passing group before putting my hand on my friend’s arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah. They’re just… so Gryffindor. Same with Michael and Alfredo. But me? How am I like them? Hell, you’re more of a lion than I am!”

I saw that Michael, Lindsay, and Meg were now listening in. Ryan, Larry, and Neal joined us and were shushed.

“Well, you might not be the bravest person I know, but you are courageous and stand up to others. I wouldn’t want you in any other house because you firmly belong there.” I met Michael’s eyes over his best friend’s shoulder. “And if you were in a different house, you wouldn’t have your Michael.”

They both scoffed as everyone else laughed. By that time, the rest of the group had joined us and we started eating. Jack, who was beside me, had a pile of eggs on his plate that smelled amazing.

“Hey, Jack? Mind if I take a bite of those?” Andy leaned over with his fork in his hand poised to stab at the pile.

Jack scowled and covered his plate with his hands. “Mine.”

I watched them for a moment before tapping Jack’s shoulder. When he turned with a quizzical expression, I held up my fork and peeked over his arm at the pile of eggs. He nodded and moved his arm to the side so that I could steal a bite of the fluffy food.

“Wha- What the hell?” Andy gasped as he watched us.

Jack shrugged before continuing to eat, and I gave Andy a shit-eating grin. “He likes me more.”

Chuckles floated down the table but subsided as we finished our meal. Trevor, Jeremy, Andy and I headed off to Transfiguration while the others went to their classes. When the four of us got to the room, I paused.

“Oh no.” I muttered. The guys all frowned and glanced around before they spotted what I was staring at. “Why is McG at the head of the class?”

As I spoke, McGonagall turned and flashed a smirk. “Welcome. You’re here early.”

“Yeah… we wanted to get some homework done before class started.” Trevor offered as we slowly approached our desks.

“Oh, you mean the homework that is due today?”

Jeremy glanced at me and my eyes went wide. “Not at all! We were… uh…”

“Going to get a headstart for today’s assignment!” Andy supplied too enthusiastically, knowing fully well that the boys all had plans to work on the assignment due today.

I rolled my eyes and sat down, opting out of whatever punishment she was coming up with. “Well, why don’t we double your work for tonight then, since you all seem to get through it so quickly.” The three boys exchanged glances, not knowing what to say. “I’ll take that as an agreement then, gentlemen.”

“What did they do this time?”

Looking over my shoulder, I smiled at Ray. “Didn’t do their work and lied about it.”

“Classic move. She doesn’t fall for that shit, though.”

“No I do not.” McGonagall turned, giving Ray a sharp look. “But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Ray grinned. “You know it!” I shook my head and waited for the rest of the class to file in.

“Now, I’m sure all of you have one question; why I am here. Your professor is indisposed for the time being, so I will be taking over until they return.” A wave of hushed voices filled the room and she put her hands up to quiet us. “I am lead to believe that you all had a roll of parchment to present today?”

    The rest of the class went by alright, and before I knew it, the day was finished. After dinner the group went back to our respective common rooms, and I sighed as I sank into a comfy couch. I grabbed a book and started to read when Geoff joined me. He lifted my feet and sat down in their place before gently resting my ankles on his leg. We sat in silence with our books for far longer than we should have until Geoff patted my foot.

“Time for bed, little one.”

I yawned, but didn’t move. “I’ll just finish this chapter first.” Geoff nodded before heading off. A comfortable silence fell before I say Ray appear out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re still up.” Ray muttered.

I closed my book, knowing that he was here for a reason. “Wanted to read some.”

“I see.” The room filled with tension. “So you saw Tonks. Have you seen anyone else?”

I refused to meet his gaze. “This morning I saw someone put a spell on the Whomping Willow. But I didn’t see them clear enough to tell who it was.”

“Huh. I thought that that bit was over.” Ray’s tone was reflective and I watched him.

“Ray? How did you die?” I paused as he flinched. “I’ve known you for so long, but never had the guts to ask.”

He glanced at me, his face awash in pain. “It was during the War. People were everywhere, running around and screaming and trying to save the castle while not dying at the same time.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “I ran into a group of first years. They were all huddled together and scared to death, so I helped them to safety. That went great and all, but on the way down to… to here actually… we got attacked.” He stopped and I saw tears in his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

Ray shook his head, determined to tell his story. “I wanted to save them. So when the wolves came, the only thing I could do was sacrifice myself until someone came. And that someone was McG herself.”

“She tried to save you?” My eyes were wide.

“And damn near died herself.” Ray nodded. “She was always my favorite, you know.”

I nodded, a slight smile on my face. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

    We kept talking, trying not to laugh too loud. After a while, though, I felt my eyes get heavy and curled into the couch cushions more. As my eyes closed, I saw Ray go towards the boy’s dorms. A few minutes later, two arms wrapped around me.

I opened my eyes just enough to see Kent carrying me. “You… why are you?”

“Ray couldn’t get Geoff or Jack up. But I’ve got you.”

Trusting him fully, I fell back asleep. The last thing I heard was a soft, haunting voice.

“Good night, Renee. I hope your future is better than mine.”

[cleverbroadwayurl]

She Used to Be Mine (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt 19)

Song: She Used to Be Mine from Waitress 

Need to Catch Up? tumblr has now officially takes things out of the tags that have lists. The link to every part and my masterlist is in my description for easy access! 

A/N: Oh my god I finally posted! I went on vacation and had so many exams the weeks before, and I had so much other work, so I’m sorry that this is so delayed! I should be back to regularly posting soon after next weekend (I have another event coming up)! 

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @catatonic-kuragin @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @stargirl-murphy 

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive boyfriend, mentions of character death, mentions of abuse, mentions of injuries, mentions of math, sad Jeremy, IF I MISSED ANYTHING LET ME KNOW

He watches you walk away, off into the distance before realizing how creepy that probably is. Jeremy grabs his keys from his pocket, phone still situated where it had been before. He walks carefully back to his car, hoping, wishing, that this is the last date you’ll ever be on with your boyfriend.

Jeremy jammed his key into the lock, exhaustion seeping into his regular routine, the typical for Thursday afternoons after an hour and a half math recitation. His brain is a mess of grey matter, he can feel the dullness inside of his eyes, paler than usual skin, even though his day consisted mostly of sitting, he still felt the tiredness through his legs. His backpack weighed down on his shoulders more than it normally did as he opened the door and threw his keys back into his jean pocket. He opened the door to his and Michael’s dorm, his eyes scanning over the posters that had been hung there when the two had moved in, the two carpooling in Michael’s PT Cruiser while their parents drove themselves and the boy’s stuff in their separate cars.

He throws his backpack onto the left side of the room, trash only slightly littering his side—he didn’t have time to clean up before his Calculus I exam that day. Darkness enveloped him as you continued to step through his side of the large dorm room, Michael’s side untouched from this morning. His brain had instead been skimming over the extremely long related rates and optimization problems. As much as they logically made sense, the calculation of them always weighed him down, each answer ending up being some fraction or decimal he didn’t particularly appreciate. His brain went over the process once again, constantly refreshing and double checking his answer, worried that he’d made a minor error and messed the entire thing up. He toes off his shoes, leaving them askew for the moment—he’d clean them up and put them away later. His brain was too tired for any real coherent interaction for a while.

His eyes scan the room, stopping for a second on the TV and switch against the wall that perfectly split the room into 2. Of course, a gaming console was how the two thought it would be best to divide the room. Jeremy had been right at Red Robin all those months ago: the bean bags wouldn’t fit in here. As Jeremy turns to sit onto his bed, eyes scanning the white walls that consume him, his eyes fall onto the postcards, the posters, the notes that had been sent to him. Of course, almost monthly, Christine would send him a friendship letter, an update about how magical college was and all the friends she was making. She’d updated him a few times, telling him that she decided to go to counselling because the stress was too much sometimes, and he had never been prouder of her. His eyes continue circling around the room, taking note of the blue sweater that hung near his bed in case he got cold in the middle of the night or right before getting out of bed.

Jeremy swings his feet around and lays down on the bed, a little bummed that Michael isn’t there so he can vent to him about his answer that was a fraction his professor said it wouldn’t be a fraction but it was. So, laying down and taking in the glow in the dark stars that he’d transported from home and stuck onto his ceiling at school would have to do. Another 15 minutes or so pass, and Jeremy is still going over each pencil mark, each moment of erasing over and over again. It isn’t until he gets the same answer 4 or 5 times in his mind that he gives it a rest, deciding that it would be healthier to focus on something else for a little bit. The exam is over, 2 out of 4 done. With no other classes for the rest of the day, Jeremy also takes a second before deciding that homework could wait until his brain was more coherent that it currently was. That, and the only class he had the next day was calculus yet again. The only logical thing his brain can come up with is to watch something on Netflix while curled up under the covers until Michael gets back from his classes.

As Jeremy gets up and grabs his laptop, his phone vibrates. There’s a text from one of his newer friends on it, asking him how he thought the exam went. He supposed that the text was a good thing. He has friends—he was making friends, too. It wasn’t hard to once he’d kind of broken out of his shell and got more comfortable with himself. And that was of course after Jeremy realized that most of his peers felt the same things he did ever so often. Of course, he left out the part about the weird super computer that tried to take over the school; he assumed that wasn’t a universal experience.

But Jeremy ignored the text for the minute. His brain wasn’t ready to comprehend everything in a healthy way yet. He knew that he was going to obsess over that one problem up until the minute that the grade would be entered into Blackboard, which could be hours, days, even sometimes weeks. He sets his laptop onto his bed before crawling back into it, fingers gliding over the mousepad, searching for the one app and closing a certain web browser. He finds it easily, and the app launches. Two fingers glide over the mousepad once again, scrolling down and eyes skimming for something mindless, something that could easily take his mind off of the events of the day but not too mentally challenging. His eyes hit “Keep Watching” and he stops, looking into the subheading.

Finally, he feels okay enough to reply to the text.

Jeremy: I don’t even know, I got a fraction for the related rates thing. Didn’t she say that we were going to get a nicely worked out problem?

He sends the text before locking his phone and putting it on “Do Not Disturb” so that he couldn’t be distracted by the outside world for a little bit. His eyes go back to the Keep Watching subheading and the content in it when he freezes. Right there, in plain print, easy text, is the piece of media you and Jeremy had watched together all those months ago.

Fuck, he remembers that night instantly, his mind rewinding to you with that bright orange cup, head against his chest, eyes fluttered shut, calmness finally flowing in and out of you. It was the most relaxed he’d ever seen you. He knew that it probably wasn’t a wonderful slumber, given your entire situation that affected your entire life to the point that you couldn’t even keep it together, strong as you were. He can remember the way his stars glowed, the way his sweater draped around you and somewhat onto him. He can remember the way you’d shifted right before he’d fallen asleep, almost snuggling into him more than before, hands calmly gripping his body, reaching out for him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered to you.

With a shake of his head, Jeremy is brought back. It’s 3:43 on a Thursday, months after the event, you’re probably hundreds of miles away. His heart hurts inside of his chest, bad enough that he feels like with to sharp of an exhale, it would come tumbling from his lips. He has no idea what happened with you. He has no idea if you’re okay, no idea if you’d managed to get free, managed to get rid of the stupid, what his British Literature professor called, Separate Sphere ideology, the Angel of the Household falling into freedom. His brain replays the moments in the gazebo, the leaves clapping with gusto as the breeze passes through, the way you smiled at him, moments where he was able to actually help you instead of just guessing and praying that things were okay. The way you told him that you got lost in time when talking to him. The way your lips curled into a smile, the genuine laugh, the looks of desperation almost peering into freedom. They were things he couldn’t forget, things that stuck on his mind for hours at a time.

At least this was only a basic remembering, no sensory details completely throwing him for a loop, causing his stomach to work in tandem with his mind. Seeing you in social media posts made the memories worse, they stung with each second they passed through his mind as his limbs would tingle, hands shaking and gripping, waiting for the memories to pass. As much as he wanted to admit that he was okay with not knowing about you, letting you go, he wasn’t. Deep down, it was apparent to everyone. He would lie awake, toss and turn, dream about the good, the bad, and what he assumed happened to you. Of course, it was always the worst in his nightmares, something he didn’t wish to dwell on while the sun was up, and the best in his daydreams. You hadn’t posted about your boyfriend recently, but you didn’t really before either, especially after you’d started even talking to him, even less since the incident—which is what he called that one night in passing with others. The only people who really knew the details about the incident were his dad, Michael’s moms, and Michael himself. Everything was under lock and key—both you and the issues you had—he was really the only one who knew exactly how you were feeling, the things you had been, or maybe still were, going through. He can remember Michael’s surprise when he first told him about you, about your situation, about your strength, about your new life, how much you’d changed. From happy to struggling to understand what was reality and what was something that was gaslit and given to you on a counterfeit silver platter.

And you’d gone silent lately. You were almost completely off the grid, to him at least. It was painful, every breath sitting inside of him, heavier than any gravitational pull in the universe. His heart, his mind, couldn’t help but fill in the blanks. Had you died? Had you done something too rebellious and ended up worse than the last time he saw you? Did you need help to live? Did you need help to even survive?

He can remember the way your hand brushed against his, the way your breath evened in hugs, that very first night, the way his hands glided across your back and helped you clean up. He can remember how your hand felt in his, your head against him, soft calmness seeping from you and into him. He can remember you leaning against him and his entire body lit aflame as he helped you up and down the stairs of the gazebo, the way your smile felt against his lips—clumsy kisses that had managed to turn into something absolutely beautiful and worth craving nearly daily. He can remember that smile that was etched into your shining face as the sunlight created an aura around you, leaves fluttering in the background. Jeremy remembers your hand slipping from his, a final farewell, or something similar leaving your lips. He remembers watching you walk away—why didn’t he watch longer?

Jeremy reaches his hand out, shaking as he tries to move the cursor away from the piece of media. He stops. Sharply, quickly, he shuts his laptop and casts it aside. Rolling over, the tears that had been forming in his eyes now spill down his cheeks. He can feel his legs contracting, toes curling so hard that his muscles begin to hurt, hands gripping the blanket. You were okay. You had to be okay.

Right?