#I got woken up for Christmas hugs and kisses and now I can’t sleep but…

[powpowchaos]

This. This is how I feel right now.

[softsnzstuff]

JQ Sick at Christmas

WOW not me being actually like 3 weeks late to posting this. I’m so sorry! Just a soft lil JQ/JCB drabble.

Summary: J/oseph’s been rocking a fever/the flu for the last couple of days - sleeping mostly - but hot chocolate and Christmas movies is something he can’t resist. 🎄

PLEASE DONT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS

December 20

Jamie takes a sip of his coffee and starts singing along to ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ on the radio as he unpacks the small boxes of ornaments. The 8 foot noble fir has been standing tall but barren in their London apartment for over a week now.

Joe’s been asking to decorate for days, but one of them always had some work commitment or another. Now that it was so close to Christmas, they were both off work and ready to decorate.

Jamie had busted out the ornaments and string lights early that morning while Joe slept in. It wasn’t too unusual for him to relax more on off days but he was usually up by now.

As if on cue, Joe pads down the stairs in some black sweatpants and a Christmas jumper. He smiles when he sees that Jamie has started setting up already.

“Do we finally get to decorate?” He beamed.

“I thought we could.” Jamie smiled back, kissing him on the cheek. “Are you cold?”

It was December in London, but the heat was turned up. Jamie was in pajama pants and a white tee.

“Just thought I’d be festive.” Joe lied, looking at his jumper. He’d been chilly since the night prior and hadn’t been able to quite get warm yet.

Cheerful music rang out as they wrapped the lights around the tree. Once that was out of the way, they started picking ornaments out one by one and adding them to the branches.

Jamie was hanging up one of the new Stranger Things ornaments they got as a gag gift from Maya when he noticed Joseph had stopped and had the heel of his hand pressed to his temple.

“Alright love?”

“Nghh… yeah just a headache.”

“Want some paracetamol?” Jamie suggested.

“Sure.” Joe walked to the kitchen and opened the cupboard to find the bottle he was looking for. He tapped out two pills and swallowed them before rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand.

He tried to sniffle back the tickle that had settled in the back of his sinuses, but it only aggravated it further. Joe cupped a hand over his nose as he snapped at the waist.

“H’iKSHTiew!”

“Bless you!” Jamie called out from the next room.

“… H’aeITSCHew! snfsnff”

“And again!”

Joe popped back into the living room, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jumper. Jamie hung the ornament he was holding on the tree and pulled Joe into a hug.

“Are you getting sick, darling?” Jamie mumbled into his ear.

Joe pulled back from the hug and tried to give Jamie his most convincing gaze. “I’m fine.”

*****

December 24

“I need you to open your mouth for me, sweetheart.” Jamie purrs softly as he perches on the edge of their King bed.

Joe blindly obliges as his partner slides the cool metal instrument under his tongue. After telling Jamie he was fine when they decorated the tree earlier in the week, he quickly developed a sore throat. The congestion had set in by that evening, and the next morning, he’d woken up with a fever.

The younger man has been in bed for the better part of the last 4 days, either sleeping or watching mindless tv. He feels woozy as Jamie runs a cold hand over his clammy forehead and through his hair, almost like he’s floating. He somehow feels too hot and too cold and his whole body feels like jelly.

A faint beeping snaps him out of his fevered trance, just long enough to see Jamie frown at him.

“38.8°C ((102°F)).” He sighs, “You just stay in bed today and let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

Joe blinks slowly and nods his head slightly, his body disagreeing with the movement. Jamie disappears and he slowly falls into a deep sleep.

***

The thirty three year old keeps himself entertained for a few hours downstairs, reading, cleaning and playing some quiet guitar.

He eats dinner by himself - Joe’s not had an appetite for the last two or three days despite Jamie trying to get him to eat some toast or applesauce.

After dinner he heads upstairs to see if Joe needs anything. The younger man is down for the count, fast asleep with lips slightly parted as congested snores fill the room.

Trying to be quiet, Jamie tidies up a bit, binning the tissues scattered around the floor, taking the empty tea mugs to be washed in the kitchen, and leaving a new ice water on the bedside stand next to the paracetamol and tissues.

He heads back downstairs, wanting to do something Christmassy. It is Christmas Eve after all. He throws on ‘Love, Actually’, a quintessential British classic, and sets a small plate of Christmas cookies on the table next to Joe’s bottles of DayQuil and NyQuil from earlier.

He heats up some homemade hot chocolate on the stove before making himself comfortable on the couch to watch the film.

Ant and Dec pop on the screen to introduce Billy Mack when Jamie hears coughing coming from upstairs.

A few moments later, he sees Joe slowly (and tiredly) making his way down the stairs with a blanket draped over his shoulders. His eyes have a fever glaze to them, complimenting his flushed cheeks.

“What’re you doing out of bed Joseph?” Jamie stands up to pull him into a hug.

“SNF! Wanted to spend time with you on Christmas.” He said innocently.

Jamie melted slightly, easing Joe onto the couch, “Alright love. Can I get you some dinner?”

Jamie knew the attempt was futile. He expected the answer before it came.

Joe leaned back into the couch cushions and rubbed at his nose with a knuckle. “N’dot hu’gry. iiTSCHuhew! H’eKSHTiew!”

“Bless you!”

Joe pouted and groaned slightly.

“What about some hot chocolate? Think you can drink some of that?”

Joe nodded after a minute of contemplation. Jamie pressed the warm mug to his partners hands and sat down next to him, pulling him close.

“Sorry I m’bessed up all of our Christm’bas plans.” Joe murmured apologetically.

Jamie kissed the top of his head.

“You didn’t ruin any plans. The best Christmas is just spending it with you.”

[eadanga]

A Royal Christmas Part 4

Summary: Liam and Riley celebrate Christmas at the palace with their families 

Liam woke up and turned to see Riley sleeping peacefully he smiles She’s so beautiful I love my queen so much let me make her some breakfast in bed He slowly gets up careful not to wake Riley and walks to the kitchen. He puts on a kettle to make tea and begins making breakfast for the two of them. He hears footsteps behind him and sees Michael coming into the room

“Hey man”

Liam smiles “Hi how are you doing?”

“Ok that smells good”

“Making my wife some breakfast”

Michael chuckles “Of course so when will”

Liam grins “You’re little girlfriend will be here today”

“She’s not my girlfriend…yet”

Liam laughs “Of course of course”

“So how did everything go last night?”

Liam sighs “Riley was really mad at her dad especially after he called her fake I think she needs to talk to him”

“Yeah now that they’re all cooled down they can talk hopefully they work it out today”

“Hope so too” Liam hands him a plate of food smirking “Here you go eat before your lover shows up”

“She’s not my” Michael laughs “Ok thanks man”

Liam chuckles then continues making breakfast. He puts everything on a tray then goes to the bedroom and slowly opens the door. Liam smiles when he sees that Riley hasn’t woken up yet he places the tray on the nightstand then kisses her softly “Good morning my love”

Riley doesn’t move so Liam gently shakes her “Sweetie it’s time to get up”

Riley smiles and slowly opens her eyes “Good morning Liam”

“Good morning love I have something for you”

“You do?” Riley looks over at the table and sees the breakfast she grins “Awww Liam this is so sweet”

“Anything for you love” He kisses her softly “Hope you’re ok after last night”

“I’m fine Liam just hope my parents don’t act like jackasses today”

“Don’t worry if they bother you or upset you in anyway I’ll send them home”

“Really Liam you sure?”

“Absolutely no one will upset my queen again”

Riley kisses him “Thank you Liam now are you ready for our annual tree lighting?”

Liam grins “Yes they got all the lights set up on the tree I can’t wait to light and officially start the Christmas season”

Riley giggles then digs into her food. After breakfast Riley gets dressed and heads out with Liam to do last minute Christmas shopping. Riley had not spoken a word to her dad after their argument last night.

“Got everything love?”

“Yes don’t you just love Christmas Liam?”

Liam smiles “Yes I enjoy everything about it the traditions I had with my parents”

“We’ll now we’re starting new traditions as a couple and soon we’ll have our family”

Liam smiles “Yes I can’t wait for it our own perfect mixture of me and you it will be amazing” Liam kisses her forehead “Love when do you think we will”

“Have our own baby?” Riley giggles “Liam you heard the doctor it takes time if doesn’t happen within the next 2 years then there’s other methods we can try”

Liam smiles “Of course love but I believe it’ll happened soon the doctor said we’re both healthy I trust it’ll happen”

“Me too I can’t wait maybe we’ll have a girl first”

Liam chuckles “No I think we’ll have boy first”

Riley smirks “Please Liam I have a gut feeling and my instincts are never wrong”

Liam chuckles “We’ll see my queen now let’s head back”

They head back from shopping and head back to the palace. Riley finds her dad and mom sitting in the living room drinking coco. Her mom looks up and smiles “Hello dear”

“Hi mom” Riley hugs her

Her dad looks up “Riley can we talk?”

“Later dad I need to put this stuff away” Riley walks away

Her dad sighs “She’s still pissed at me”

“Well do you expect after the way you were talking last night?”

Liam sits down next to him “Sir I think you need to stop being so be so pushy on your daughter”

“I just want what’s best for her why did she even have to get into this royal stuff it’s dangerous and then her face is gonna be everywhere and the paparazzi are following her I can’t stand that!”

Liam nods “I understand”

“No you don’t you were born into this life she wasn’t she doesn’t need all this extra stuff in her life that’s why I want her to be with someone who’s not internationally famous then her life will be peaceful and not full of drama”

“To be honest sir everyone’s lie is full of drama but I’ll make sure Riley is protected no harm will against her”

“You can’t promise that anything could happen to her” Her dad stands “I don’t want empty promises I want my daughter safe” He walks away

Her mom turns to Liam “Just give him time he’s just overprotective”

“No I understand him but nothing with happen to Riley I promise you that”

****

Riley immediately puts all the stuff into the room and pulls out her cell phone

“Hey Riley!”

“Hana did you make it yet?”

“Yup it’s almost done Liam’s gonna love it how have you been doing I know it’s been hard to not show how you’ve feeling around Liam”

“I’m ok getting through it thank God it has been bad but that tea you gave me has been helping me thanks so much”

“Anything for my best friend I’ll see you later”

Riley grins as she hangs up I can’t wait to tell him

Tags: @indiacater​ @mfackenthal​ @the-soot-sprite​​ @hallowdiamond​ @princess-geek​​ @iaminlovewithtrr​​ @gkittylove99​​

[shawnmendesbuddy]

Day 8–All I Want for Christmas (25 Days of Ficmas)

A/N: I used the song ‘All I Want for Christmas’ and said that Shawn wrote it. So, all the credit to Mariah Carey. 

Shawn stared at Y/N as the winter sunlight poured in through the window and onto her body. He couldn’t help but admire her. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. And the skin of her bare shoulder was so soft as he rubbed it up and down, pressing a kiss to it. 

He whispered a soft ‘I love you’ to her before unwrapping his arm from her waist and standing from the bed. He yawned and stretched before walking to the bathroom. He wasn’t supposed to go into the studio today. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and he had to finish a song he had been writing for Y/N. He was going to give it to her as a Christmas present, and he was almost finished, he just had to perfect the chorus. 

He walked out of the bathroom, slipping on a simple white shirt and a green cardigan over it. He looked back and Y/N and smiled, still enamored by her beauty even after a year with her. Even when she was sleeping, soft snores leaving her lips. 

Shawn had woken up Tarzan who now was slowing sitting up in the bed and preparing to jump off onto the floor. Shawn sped walked over to him and petted his head. “You need to stay right here Tarzan. It’s five in the morning. Mommy won’t be happy if you wake her up right now.” He placed a kiss on the dog’s head and started to retreat from the room. 

“Shawn,” he heard a soft, tired voice whisper. Shit. He had woken her up. 

“Yea baby,” Shawn walked to her side of the bed and kneeled down. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead as she yawned. 

“Where are you going?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rubbed Tarzan’s head. 

“I’m going into the studio baby. I know I said I was done until the New Year, but I just got some inspiration. I’ll only be a few hours, I promise.”

“Ok, good luck baby,” she whispered, already falling back to sleep. 

He kissed her head one more time before leaving for the studio.

*****

“Teddy! I just can’t perfect this!” He yanked on his hair and stood from his chair. 

“Sit back down! We’re almost there, I can feel it. You’re on the edge of a breakthrough. Just sing through it one more time and maybe the lyrics will come to you.”

Shawn nodded picking up his guitar. When he finished strumming the last chord, he had a smile on his face. “I’ve got it.Santa, won’t you bring me the one I really need? Won’t you please bring my baby to me?” He sung holding out the e in me. 

“Booyah! Nice job Shawn! She’ll love it.”

Shawn stood up hugging Teddy and wishing her a merry Christmas. “I owe you one for coming in today.”

“Just make me the godmother to your children and it’ll all be repaid.”

Shawn laughed unlocking his car and getting into it. He started to heat it up when Y/N called him. It was 8:30 which meant she must’ve just gotten done with the gym. 

“Are you done with the studio yet?”

“Just finished up. Why?”

“Could you possibly bring me home a peppermint hot chocolate from Starbucks?”

Shawn’s face lifted into a smile. “Anything for you baby. I’ll be home in 20 minutes.”

Shawn hung up the phone and Y/N smiled to herself. That was all the time she needed to finish wrapping his presents andpull the muffins out of the oven for him. 

*****

Shawn grinned as he heard Christmas music coming from their kitchen and the smell of chocolate chip muffins filled his nose. “Hmm, I love you baby.” He said as he walked into the kitchen, placing down her hot chocolate, and stealing a muffin from the tray. He pinched her bum, kissing the side of her head before heading over to pet Tarzan. 

“Shawn, can I take you out to eat tonight. You’ve been working hard in the studio, and I just want to celebrate you.”

“That sounds good.” He couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend. He couldn’t wait to make her his wife someday soon. He patted his coat pocket and felt the velvet box inside. 

*****

Christmas morning had finally arrived and to say Shawn was nervous was an understatement. They cooked pancakes together and FaceTime both their parents. And finally, it was time to open presents. 

Y/N had given Shawn a new guitar—which cost her three months’ worth of savings—to which Shawn was thrilled with. He was worried about the cost, but she told him that it wasn’t a big deal. 

When Shawn nervously tuned the new guitar, she had given him and began to strum the first chord of his song, he felt his palms shake. “I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need…”

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling the entire time he serenaded her. When he had finally finished, he got down on one knee and Y/N gasped. “Baby, all I want for Christmas is you for the rest of my life. I love waking up with you and going to bed with you and I would love it even more if you were my wife. I would love to wake up to Mrs. Mendes instead of Miss L/N. It has a better ring to it anyway. I told myself I wasn’t going to ramble, but here I am. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes glossed over with tears as she leaned forward to kiss him with all her might. He smiled into the kiss placing the ring on her finger and wrapping her up in a hug. “Yes, yes! I love, I love you, I love you! I can’t believe you wrote a song for me. Are you ever going to publish it?”

“Nope, it was just for you.” And he sent her a small wink. “Merry Christmas darling.”

[echos-newlegs]

HELLO! How inspired are you by 16 and or 33 separately or together for Kix?

ALSO IM VERY EXCITED TO READ HOUR WORKS

- @snipskixandbeskar (my side blog)

It was so real

Oml yes so much yes! I haven't gotten a request for him and I've been in a Kix mood 😩

Kix x Reader: "you can't just bottle everything up forever, talk to me.." and "I had another nightmare... this time you were there.."

Warnings: none, it does get angst though. Kix basically having a panic attack over his dream is all.

You sat in your home. Waiting for Kix to show. You hadn't seen him in nearly three weeks. You missed him more than words could form. He sent you a message this morning. Informing you the ship would be landing back at Coruscant around 1700. You were so thrilled. A smile instantly forming on your face, mood changed. It felt like an early Christmas. The pure joy ruching through your body.

He said it would only be two hours, but then it was going on three. Four.. then five hours had passed. You were giving up. Maybe he decided to stay back with his brothers? They could have had extra work. You were just a civilian after all. You may be dating the clone, but you weren't his family.

You moved to turn the lights off. Trailing from the bedroom to the kitchen. Checking the fridge, the take out you ordered resting in there til whenever. You couldn't even eat without him. You were so disappointed. Reaching into the fridge to grab a water then head back for your room. Where you got changed into your pajamas. Heading for the fresher to brush your teeth.

You were about to climb into bed when you heard the door open then close. Making you jump and panic, until you heard him sigh and keys fall to the table. Your breath caught in your throat. Tears welling in your eyes as you bit back a smile.

You stepped out of the room, meeting him in the hall. "You're late," you spoke with crossed arms. The lights shining through the window from outside the only lighting the two of you had. He was able to make out your smile. Reassuring him that you weren't that mad.

"I know, I was going to contact you but I got distracted." He told you, you giggling as you walked over and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands floating over your hips. Then holding them gently. "How about you just make it up to me?" You asked with a grin. Meeting him for a small kiss. "Hmm.. and what do you have in mind?" He asked. Walking you back into the bedroom. "I was thinking some cuddling, maybe?" You asked. Squealing as he picked you up and tossed you on the bed. Smile wide as you bounced and then settled.

He pulling what armor he didn't take off at the door off of him. Heading for a dresser with some loose clothes that you bought for him, since he didn't like sleeping in his Blacks if he didn't have to. Pulling his top off, then his pants. Slipping into a baggier pair of pants and shirt.

He accompanied you right after. Sliding under the covers. Pulling you close against him, both smiling like idiots. "I missed you, mesh'la." He cooed. Kissing your lips, then down to your neck. You humming as your fingers traced the back of his head. Running over his short hair. "I missed you, too, Kix. You have no idea." He smiled at that. Arms tightening around your waist. Then resurfacing to look into your face. "Sleeping alone just isn't the same when I can have you here." He spoke. Bringing a hand up to curl his fingers in your hair, lightly. "Agreed."

You were the first to fall asleep. Kix only letting himself doze off when he was sure you were asleep. Allowing his thoughts to lessen and his breathing to steady.

"Kix, why weren't you there?" Your voice rang through his ears, but he couldn't find you. The room was dark. Standing, looking around in a panic. "Y/N?" He called out. Breathing beginning to pick up. "Kix, please come back," you were crying. He could tell by the waver of your voice, and that made him worry even more.

He began sprinting towards the direction of your voice. Lights hovering above his head as he ran down the hall. Some flickering, some weren't even turned on. "Kix, makers sake, come back to me!" You screamed, "Mesh'la, Cyare, I'm here!" He shouted. Turning into another room.

He jumped when he heard the gun shot. Turning the corner to see you laying on the ground. Motionless. "Y/N!" He shouted.

His heart was racing fast enough that it cause his body to jerk awake. Sitting up quickly, looking around the dark room. Making him panic even more. Until he looked over and saw you. "Y/n," he murmured, heart still racing. Breathing jagged. "Kix, love, what's wrong?" You questioned with furrowed brows. Your voice was enough to convince him this wasn't a dream anymore. Reaching over and practically pulling you into his lap. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "You're okay, you're here," he reassured himself.

You moved your arms to wrap around him. Moving to a more comfortable position in his lap. "Kix, hey, what happened?" You asked. Running your hands over his back. Then moving then to rub his shoulders. The two of you didn't speak for a moment longer. You wanted to know what was going on, but you didn't have the heart to push him. This was the first time he's woken up from a nightmare next to you, and you didn't want to scare him off.

He steadied his breathing, you humming softly to him as you resting your head against his. His fingers plating at the hem of your shirt. "Did you wanna go make some tea with me?" You asked, and he nodded. "I'd like that." You could barely hear his voice. It wasn't even an octave above a whisper.

You climbed off him, though he reluctantly let you go. Soon trailing behind you through the dimly lit rooms. His hand reaching out to hold yours, as if to be sure you wouldn't disappear when you rounded the corner. You accepted it, squeezing his hand softly as if to reassure him.

You had him sit down after you turned on the light. Beginning to boil your water and get the tea bags out for the two of you. Leaning your back against the counter. "Did you wanna talk about it?" He looked up to you, then back down. Hands in his lap. Shoulders slumped forward. "No, I don't want to burden you."

Burden.. you were in a relationship together. Being a burden was the least of your worries, and it should be his. You were there to help each other, not keep feelings back. "Kix.." he looked up to you again, watching as you walked over to where he was sitting. Now standing beside him.

His hands didn't move. He just looked up at you. Eyes full of pain and fear. Your hands moving to gently hold the sides of his face. Making him lean into your touch. His eyes falling shut with a sigh. "You're not a burden to me, you should know that." You spoke, and he opened his eyes again. "I don't want to worry you with a stupid dream." You sighed out sharply. "You can't just bottle everything forever, talk to me Kix, please.." you spoke in more of a demanding tone. Making his brows raise. Then his eyes dropped back down.

He pondered for a second, then leaned back. Your hands slipping from his face. Bringing your arms to fold them across your chest as you leaned back against the table. "I had another nightmare," well that was obvious. "This time.. You were there." He spoke. Hands fidgeting in his lap. Looking up to you with watery eyes. You were about to reach out for him. Pull him into a hug and tell him everything would be alright, but the kettle was whistling for attention.

You gave him a look that said, ‘I’ll be right back, I love you.’ And he nodded. He didn’t want to listen to the kettle any longer than he had to. His head was pounding already. Watching from afar as you looked the water into two cups. Each having their own baggy of tea in it. “I couldn’t save you,” he murmured as you started walking back to him. Frowning as he looked up with creased brows. “You were injured, and I couldn’t help you.” His voice was a whisper. Afraid if he spoke too loud it would break and he would break with it.

You held the cups in both hands. Motioning to the couch with your head. “Let’s go sit, okay?” You told him, and he nodded. Standing and tacking his mug. Feeling the warmth with his hands as he trudged to the couch. Sitting down next to you. “You know I’m okay, right? It was only a dream.” You told him. Setting your mug onto a coaster on the table. Arms snaking around his waist. Leaning your head on his shoulder.

A sigh escaped his nostrils. “I know, but.. it’s just.” He let out a frustrated noise. “I’m always gone, y/n.” He spoke, voice wavering, and you shushed him. Hands moving to rub his shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay, Shh.” You spoke, feeling him tense then relax. “You’re here enough for me. I treasure each time I see you, each time I hear your voice. Even if it is over a call on the holo.” You informed and he set his tea down on a coaster.”I know you do, but I.. I can’t be there to protect you. Not like I should be.” He added. Placing his face in his hands.

You hated how distressed he was. You wish you could do something to make him feel better. Leaning in and pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. Then up to his cheek. “Kix,” you kissed him again. “Look at me.” He hesitated, but soon turned to look at you. Your heart nearly wrapping itself apart at the sight of tears running down his face. “Oh baby,” you cooed. Reaching up to cup his face. Wiping the tears from under his eyes. His arms moving to fold over his lap.

“Kix.. focus on me okay, I’m here.. I’m with you, I always will be. No one’s coming after me,” “you don’t know that!” He nearly shouted. You sighed this time. “No, no I don’t, you’re right.” You agreed and he reached up to hold the backs of your hands. “I just wish I could be there for you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You are, Kix, all the time. And I love you for that. I love you, and I will until the day we die.”you spoke, resting your forehead against his. “Now take some deep breaths and just focus on me, okay? Focus on now, not yesterday or tomorrow, or even a month from now. Just.. this moment. Can you do that for me?” He took a deep breath in with you. Closing his eyes as he sighed it out. Nodding his head softly. “Okay, I can..” he murmured, and you smiled. Leaning in and pressing his quick, but loving kiss to his lips. “I love you,” “I love you, too.” He whispered back.

[hford0311]

Growing Up

"We're home, sweetheart." Your dad said as the last box was placed in the living room. There was a knock on the door. Y/d/n  opened the door to see a woman with her husband and her possible child there. "Hi! Um...We're your neighbors across the hall." The woman started and introduced themselves: Ben, May, and their nephew Peter. At some point, you caught Peter's eye. "Hi," he exclaimed. The sudden loud child voice shocked you. You walked over to the door and shyly looked at the boy. "I'm Peter," the little boy spoke. "Go on, say hi," your dad encouraged and you quietly introduced yourself to the boy. "She's shy," Y/d/n explained. "We can hardly get this one to shut up," Ben laughed and picked up Peter. "There is a nice playground around the block...and if you need a babysitter or anything, you can come to us." He added. Your dad thanked them before they walked back to their apartment with Peter looking over Ben's shoulder. "Bye," He called with his eyes in your direction.

Years went on with Peter and you growing closer.  It helped that, that the two of you were placed in the same classroom for many of your elementary school classes. Now, it was middle school and the two of you were seeing if you were in any classes together. "There, we have computer lab and English together!" Peter exclaimed, excited that you two weren't completely separated. You sighed in relief about it. "Good, I didn't want to be alone going into the new school," you stated.

The conversations about middle school filled Peter's bedroom. All of the nervousness and excitement about the new grade level being shared. Laughs and worries exchanged until your father came back and you had to return back across the hall. The lengthy hug given to each other as May and Y/d/n exchanged glances about the length. However, with Ben's recent passing, they never made a big deal of the casual affection.

It was early in the morning, maybe around 2 or 3, when Peter talked to you over the walkie-talkie that Aunt May gave to him and you the last Christmas. "Y/n, I just thought of something very important." A few seconds passed after you ignored it, wanting your sleep. "Y/n, answer, I need your help. Now!" You groaned and rolled your eyes as you answered his call. "What is it, Peter?" You sassed. "Is your dad asleep?" He questioned. "Probably, unlike me," you responded, still upset by being woken up. "Can you let me in, please?" Peter requested. You sat up in bed. "Better be a good explanation," you stated and walked towards the front door of your apartment quietly, avoiding large sounds to keep your father asleep. You slowly opened the front door, Peter already waiting there. "This better be good, Parker," you whispered as you let him in and followed him to your room.

"Here me out," he started, the pair of you sitting across from each other on your bed. "Why do you think I let you over, Peter?" You responded. "So you know how most people get into relationships in junior high?" He inquired, and you nodded for an answer. "Well," he paused, "I have never kissed someone before." You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Where is this going, Peter?" You investigated him. "Can I have a practice kiss with you," he words so fast and rushed together that you hardly understood him. You looked at him with confusion. "Y-you can say n-no," he stuttered. "What's the difference between a practice kiss and a regular kiss?" You said in a whisper. "Well," Peter hesitated, "a practice kiss doesn't really count as a first kiss." He explained, and you nodded along with him. "I guess that makes sense," you replied.

"Can we then- practice kiss," his voice got quieter during the second part of his request. You hesitated. "You said it wouldn't count right," he viciously nodded at your question. You pursed your lips together, then agreed to it. You leaned forward with your lips pressed together. "You got to close your eyes, Y/n." Peter told you. You huffed and closed your eyes. You heard him take a deep breath, then there was a quick meeting of your lips. You could have missed it if you didn't know it was coming. However, it did make your heart flutter and heat rise to your cheeks, as did Peter's. "Thanks," he whispered, "I guess I'll go back now." It was never spoke of again.

***

High school came with its own challenges. The pair of you slightly drifted from each other. Still, there were times when you'd come over after school and hangout. On fewer occasions, you'd stay the night and both of you would sleep in the same bed. You did it as kids, so the pair of you were used to it. The days of practice kissing were long over as well. It just wasn't the same as it had been when you guys were younger. After your sophomore year, you didn't share schedules with each other to see when you would be in classes together. You would simply find out that day.

Homecomings were incredibly painful for you. No, you didn't expect to be Peter's date to them, but you at least thought you would be in the same group together. You weren't. Even though seeing Peter happy with his date and the group of people he went with made you happy, it was also depressing at the same time. Sometimes just being around him was just different and underwhelming.

*Warning: Underage Drinking*

It took one party that you deiced to go to tonight that would change so much. You took deep breathes as you opened the door to whoever's house that the party was at. Drinks were flowing down your throat. "Hey, Y/n," you smiled back at Peter as he was getting a drink. Something about seeing him this time was just different. It sent you back to that night before the sixth grade when you practiced kissed and felt the fluttering of your heart.

The two of you actually talked for the first time in what felt like years for you. "I miss you, Peter," you admitted. Well, more like the alcohol was speaking for you. His face was surprised for a second before he gently smiled, "I miss you too, Y/n." He simply stated. Then, an idea popped in his head. "Hey, you want to get out of here?" You nodded with a grand smile in agreement.

The pair of you walked the streets, Peter being much more sober than you helped you stay on the sidewalks and off the streets. Eventually, the two of you ended up at the park the pair of you spent most of your time together in the elementary school. "Remember when we used to go on the swings all the time," you slurred as you clumsily sat on the swing. He chuckled and nodded, sitting to the one next to you. Suddenly, it felt like the world stopped. Not for any reason, it just stopped. "Peter," you turned your body towards him, twisting the metal chains on the swing, "why did you stop hanging out with me?" You were blunt with the question. Sober you would have never dared to ask, but drunk you desperately wanted to as much as sober you and was bold enough to ask.

He paused from the conversation. He couldn't answer. "I didn't want to stop," he quietly answered. You nodded but continued to push, "Why did you then?" He looked sadly back at you, deciding to crouch in front of you then. "I...was afraid that I would get too attached." He softly replied. You made a questioning face. "I-I know people that would want to hurt the people I know, people that I love, Y/n." Peter explained. "What do you mean? Why would people want to hurt you know?" He had no choice but to admit it now. "I'm Spider-Man." You quickly went from questioning to angered and quickly got up from the swing and walked in the direction of your apartment. "Fuck you, Peter Parker! If you hate me, just fucking say it!" You yelled and continued to storm away. You noticed yourself sobering up as your anger increased.

You weren't sure how you got home, but you did by yourself and managed to fall asleep, only to be woken soon after. "Peter to Y/n," that damn walkie-talkie you never turned off before. He repeated the phrase several times before you groaned and answered. "Leave me alone, Parker," you sassed and dropped the talkie on the floor. "Please, let me explain." He begged. He repeated your names and begged countless times more. Eventually, you gave him and let him in your apartment. You both sat like many times before with you both across from each other. At first, during his explanations, you denied him and kept telling yourself that he was lying. Then, he unzipped his backpack that he brought with him. The suit inside it. "You can't tell anyone." He stated.

You were surprised, but your exhaustion masked him. However, you remembered the other secret the two of you kept in your bedroom before. "Just like practice kissing, I will never tell anyone." He looked up at you shocked at the comparison. "Well, it's a bit more serious than that, but-" "Peter," he stopped talking and looked at you, "so when you saying earlier that you didn't want to get attached, you were saying that because..." you dragged some while speaking at the end. "Because," he cleared his throat, "I didn't- I don't - want them to hurt you, Y/n." You nodded. He shifted closer from you on the bed. "I don't want to lose you." Peter whispered and without knowing, he placed his forehead on yours. "You'll never lose me, Peter." You said back in the same hushed tone. "Don't say that," his voice getting desperate. Something took over.

You put both hands on either side of his face, closed your eyes, and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was much sweeter, meaningful, and longer than all of the practices kisses. You'd feel Peter's hands on your waist and get closer to you. Suddenly though, he pulled away. You looked back at him so desperate and confused. "We can't, I don't want to put you at risk." You started to get up from the bed and grab the backpack when you grabbed him and pulled you close. "I'm already at risk, you idiot, and I want to risk it all." You strongly stated. "Let's do it then." Peter replied.

[squiggledrop]

Day 7: Mistletoe Kiss - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Ficmas 2020

Listen to my Christmas Playlist! 

Summary: Ficmas Day 7

Word Count: 0.9k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

You felt an incessant tickle on your nose, causing you to roll over in the bed while attempting to swat away whatever was causing your face to scrunch. A faint chuckle grazed your ears, causing you to peel your eyes open. You blinked a few times, the image of your boyfriend lying next to you become clearer. 

“Spence”, you groaned, closing your eyes again, nuzzling into his chest. He laughed at how cute you were when you tried to be annoyed. “Whatever study you read that said waking your girlfriend up by annoyingly tickling her face was a good idea, is very, very wrong”, you whined, trying to go back to sleep. Spencer wrapped his arms sound you, pulling you further into his chest.

“Baby”, he laughed, “you didn’t see what it was though”. He brushed your nose again, causing you to squirm. You pulled away from him, slightly annoyed that he was interrupting your cuddle time.

“What?”, you moaned, finally opening your eyes. What you saw, however, immediately brought a smile to your face. Spencer sat in the bed, with a ridiculous smirk across his face, dangling a piece of mistletoe in front of you. “Oh”, you smiled, feeling a bit guilty. Spencer chuckled, dangling the mistletoe in his hand, suggestively raising his eyebrows. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to go against the sacred Christmas rule of kissing under the mistletoe”, you joked, leaning towards him.

“Yeah”, he giggled, your lips almost touching. “Wouldn’t want to break tradition”, he whispered, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s seen as bad luck to not kiss when caught under the mistletoe”, he spoke into your mouth, your noses brushing against one another.

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”, you said, finally connecting your lips. Spencer dropped the mistletoe onto the sheets, both his hands coming to your cheeks. You relaxed into his palms, running your hands along his shoulder and up the nape of his neck. 

“The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe”, Spencer spoke between kisses, “actually dates back to ancient Greece”. He spoke through mumbled breaths, not wanting to be detached from your tender mouth for too long. “Where it was used during marriage ceremonies”, he felt you smile into his mouth and felt heat rise to your cheeks. He smirked, loving how easily he could get you flustered and blushing. “And to celebrate Saturnalia”. You hummed, moving to sit in his lap, desperately trying to get as close to him as possible. “Which was a festival”, you placed a kiss to the top of his right cheek, “in honor of the god Saturn”, then the left, “as its namesake suggests”. 

“Interesting”, you hummed, eyes still closed, as you placed a line of kisses down his jaw.

“T-there’s also a Nordic myth”, he whispered, pulling you back up, reconnecting your lips, “that says when Loki”, he ran his hands along your back, “the god of mischief”, he slid the tips of his fingers under your nightshirt, running circles along your waist, “killed the son of Frigg”, you let out a soft moan, “the goddess of love”, he mumbled against your lips, “she revived him under a mistletoe tree”. You twirled your fingers through Spencer’s hair as he began peppering your neck with kisses. “It’s said”, he continued between kisses, “that anyone--who stands--under--the mistletoe--deserves-- protection--from death--and”, he placed a kiss to your cheek, “a”, and then the corner of your mouth, “kiss”, and then finally to your lips. You giggled, biting your now swollen lips. You tried to catch your breath, admiring Spencer’s tousled hair and flush cheeks. “H-however”, he started again, but not before you latched your mouth right below his ear. “C-contrary to its common symbolism of life and fertility”, he gasped, the feeling of your wet mouth causing him to shake, “i-it is actually a parasitic organism”. He felt you let out a small laugh, pulling away from his neck and looking into his eyes, admiring how wonderfully strange his mind was. “It can only grow by extracting its water and nutrients from its host plant”, he said, a bit too enthusiastically. He smirked, shifting slightly under your loving gaze.

“Lovely”, you amused, placing a quick peck to his lips. You both looked into each other eyes for a moment, exchanging looks of pure love and admiration. He wrapped his arms around you, you both chuckling a bit. Relaxing into his embrace, you rested your head in the crook of his neck, snuggling close into his chest. “I love you”, you murmured, bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a kiss on his knuckles. He smiled down at you, hugging you tightly in his arms and kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too”, he said into your hair. “And sorry for waking you up”, he said, a light smirk breaking through his tone, indicating he wasn’t that sorry. You laughed, shaking your head, not sorry either.

“I guess there are worse ways to be woken up”, you teased. Spencer watched as you closed your eyes, completely at peace in his arms. He smiled, admiring how beautiful you looked, before resting his head on top of yours. Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind being woken up at any time of day, as long as it meant you got to be with Spencer.

[hawks-supremacy]

Mall Food

a/n: I didn't proof read it. Sorry if there's errors, I reread as I'm writing and try to catch any as I go.

warnings: Swearing I think that's it

word count: 2k

Masterlist

It was the weekend that the Seijoh team was supposed to come down for their practice match against Inarizaki and you were currently sitting in the gym at 7 am on a Saturday. If it were up to you, you’d still be asleep in a warm bed. Instead Shinsuke had woken you up at 6:15 so you could get ready to be to the school on time. The Seijoh team had gotten to town late last night but wouldn’t be arriving at the practice match until 9. Sitting on the bench after you had finished the tasks assigned to you, you had begun to text the group chat saying the boys were lucky they got to sleep in even if it was only for an hour and a half.

After texting them you heard someone sit down on the bench next to you. Putting your phone down you looked over to see Osamu laying down on the bench with his eyes already closed. You looked down at him and poked his face a few times until he opened his eyes to look back up at you, “Whaddya want Y/n?” You shrugged in response and moved so your legs were on either side of the bench facing the direction he was laying. You started to run your fingers through his hair before laughing to yourself, “What?” He asked.

“Nothing, I just wasn't expecting your hair to be this soft. I thought it’d be fried with the constant lightening and toning.” He rolled his eyes at your reply and closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of your fingers against his scalp. You sat like this just enjoying each other's company in a comfortable silence until Atsumu and Suna came to sit on the floor next to you both. It was early enough to where Atsumu barely even talked, save for a few sentences here and there.

After 30 minutes of everyone trying to get in a little bit of extra sleep you heard Shinsuke and the Coach greeting people. Looking up from Osamu’s hair that you attempted to braid you saw the Seijoh boys. After they were done talking and the Coaches walked off to discuss the practice match you got up from the bench and ran over to greet your old friends.

You jumped on Hajime’s back since he was closest and turned away from you, “I missed you guys so much!” You yelled as Iwa was trying to keep from falling over due to your sudden weight. “Y/n, please get off of me.” You climbed off of Iwa like he had asked and went to his side where he pulled you in for a side hug kissing the top of your head briefly, “Missed you too kid.” You smiled as you shoved him away, “I am one year younger than you quit calling me kid old man.”

“Well where’s my greeting.” Toru said with his hands on his hips and pout on his lips. You shook your head and gave him a hug while he grumbled about Hajime being your favorite. Turning you pulled Maki and Mattsun into a group hug. While catching up with your old friends, unbeknownst to you, your new group of friends had been watching your interactions.

“Yeah so I’m pretty sure they’re dating the one that kissed them on the head.” Atsumu stated with crossed arms. Suna sighed not moving from his spot on the floor whereas Atsumu had stood when you left. Osamu sat up rubbing his eyes, still tired, “Quit assuming things until they tell us specifically.” Atsumu huffed and sat back down on the bench, arms still crossed, “Fine but don’t come crying to me when I’m right.”

“Shut up Atsumu, behave yourself. They’re comin’ over here.” Osamu said as you walked over with the Seijoh four in tow. “Hey guys! I wanted to introduce you guys.” You motioned for the boys to stand up so you could properly introduce them to each other. To be honest you were worried about them meeting each other. It could either go perfect or it could end with the fire marshall being called and the practice match being cancelled. You hoped it went well so you all could go to the mall when there was free time today.

“Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, this is Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna.” You pointed and gestured to each person as you were naming them and they all gave the same lame wave except for Atsumu and Oikawa who glared at the opposite group. Seeing Shinsuke waving you over, you dismissed yourself to go talk to him.

“Quit glaring,” Iwa said, hitting Toru over the head. He let out a hiss of pain and turned away from the other group while rubbing his head. “No need to hit me.” He mumbled crossing his arms, now pouting. “Boohoo suck it up.” Iwa said, “Hey so which one of you met Y/n this summer?”

Osamu turned to Iwaizumi after scolding Atsumu for glaring at your friends, “That would be me, I went ta the same culinary camp as ‘em.” Iwa elbowed Toru as he mumbled something about a dumb accent. “Culinary camp? You never went to a culinary camp ya liar.” Atsumu said faceing Osamu. “Ya I did. I went to it the same time you did yer volleyball camp dumbass.” Everyone watched as Osamu and Atsumu continued to argue. Shortly after you walked back over to gather everyone, “Come one guys you’re supposed to start warming up.” Nodding everyone went to their respective sides of the gyms to do their warm ups that the coaches had set for them.

The practice match ended with Inarizaki winning the first and last set and Seijoh winning the second set. They ended up playing a rematch where Seijoh won. You started to clean up and put everything away while the boys showered and changed. After cleaning up and discussing what things could be improved on and what the team will work on next practice you all headed out for the day. Seijoh wasn’t leaving until tomorrow so the coach gave them the rest of the day to do touristy things and look around if they wanted, they just had to be back at the hotel at 9.

“Why are we going to the mall anyway?” Mattsun asked, walking in the back of the group with Maki. You turned around walking backwards as you replied, “Because the mall has everything. You’re hungry? Food court. You need a new sweater? Clothing store. Want to play games? Arcade. C’mon Mattsun, use your head.” As you were turning back around you tripped over your own ankle, Iwaizumi catching you before you could hit the ground, “Thanks Haji.” Behind you Atsumu gave Suna and Osamu a knowing look before Suna rolled his eyes and smacked Atsumu in the arm telling him to cut it out.

Everyone was hungry at the moment so you headed towards the food court after entering the mall. After picking where each person wanted to eat you met up at the table with your trays of food. Finishing up your food and throwing away the scraps and setting the tray down you asked where everyone wanted to go. You first went to a book and music store where Maki bought some new cds. Then you headed to a clothing store where almost everyone got a sweater or t-shirt. Lastly you headed to the sports store, you had figured you’d end up here at the end of the day.

“Hey, what do you think of this cross-body bag?” Toru asked, sporting a neon green bag with orange accents. You grimianced, “Fashion really isn’t your thing Toru.” He scoffed saying he

liked it and went to look at the Volleyballs they had. You walked over to Osamu who was looking at the tennis rackets, “You gonna take up tennis?” He hummed in a questioning tone and looked at you, “Oh. No, I’m just kinda wandering at this point. Nothing I really need in here.” You nodded, “Yeah I’m pretty much the same, nothing’s really catching my eye unless I wanna shop for early christmas gifts.”

After 30 minutes of wandering around the store and buying nothing the guys decided they needed to head back to the hotel. As you were exiting the store the security alarms started to go off before an employee told everyone they needed to get back in the store. You looked around confused before the employee started accusing you all of stealing. Sure a few of you looked like degenerates but none of you actually were. You glanced at everyone before stopping at Toru, “God damnit Toru, you’re still wearing that god awful bag.” He looked over at you after you called his name, “Huh? Oh I didn’t even realize it. I wasn’t stealing.”

The employee scoffed, “Then what do you call it? Borrowing?” Scrunching his eyebrows Toru took off the bag, “No I call it an accident.” Ripping the bag out of his hands the employee scowled, “Don’t get an attitude with me young man.” You furrowed your eyebrows taking a step towards Toru and the employee, “He didn’t have an attitude if anyone has one it’s you. Come on dude it was an accident. Who would willingly steal that ugly ass bag?”

The grouchy employee raised his eyebrows, “You all have an attitude? Let’s see where that attitude gets you in the mall holding cells.” After that he called mall security where you were all escorted to the back of the mall where the holding cell was for people who intentionally stole. You honestly thought it was absurd that you were in here. Even more absurd that you only got one call for all of you combined. After weighing the options you decided the best bet was Atsumu and Osamu’s parents. The boys didn’t want to call the coach otherwise they would’ve gotten in trouble and you didn’t want to call your grandma because she was probably sleeping anyway.

As you all sat there waiting for their parents to get here you looked at Toru, “I can’t believe you got us into this situation again.” He threw his hands up in defense, “It’s not like I did it on purpose. If anything it’s your mouth that got us in here.” Crossing your arms you looked out the cell, “Yah well maybe if the manager wasn’t a dick I wouldn’t have needed to say anything. He was totally out of line.” Everyone nodded and sat in silence.

A few minutes later the twins’ mom arrived with the security guard. “Seriously Atsumu and Osamu, what did you do this time?” She questioned folding her arms. “They didn’t do anything ma’am, it was my fault I’m sorry.” She sighed and looked at the twins, “Is this them?” You whipped your heads to look at the twins in confusion as they nodded, “You can explain what happened over lunch tomorrow, how about that?” She asked, as she ushered everyone out of the mall. “Yeah that sounds great, thanks Miya-san.”

Walking out of the mall Atsumu and Suna got into the car with the twins’ mom while you and Osamu talked briefly, “So much for not meeting your mom in a holding cell.” You mumbled looking at your feet. Osamu laughed before giving you a quick hug, “See you tomorrow I guess.” You nodded as you hugged him back, “Yeah see you tomorrow.” As he got in the car you turned to the Seijoh boys to walk back to their hotel before Shinsuke picked you up, “That was weird right? Like what happened? Her knowing who I am and then randomly inviting me to dinner after I said it was my fault? Or am I crazy?” You asked the boys. “No, that was weird, but you’re definitely still crazy.” You shoved Toru running away before he could shove you back. He chased you the whole way to the hotel with Hajime yelling at you both to cut it out.

Tag List:

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[brothermouse]

I'm just thinking about the first Christmas.

Mary feels a new blister forming and curses under her breath, so quiet Joseph can't hear. She fought too hard to come along on this trip to let him see an ounce of regret. She didn't have to come. Any sane person would tell her to just stay home, especially with how far along the pregnancy was. But she would walk hot, dusty roads and be covered head to toe with blisters for the rest of her life it it meant she didn't have to put up with the other women in the village.

They always seemed ready with some sharp catty comment, some new way to say the obvious without saying the obvious. She had been pregnant longer than she had been married, and everyone knew it. They would excitedly mention how big she was getting, almost as if they knew that she felt like an overstuffed cow. They would causally ask when she was expecting and then ask to be reminded when her wedding was, smugly implying that they had already done the math. It might have been better if they just came out and called her a slut. At least then she could yell at them. Then she could fight back. Then she could run crying into the strong, protective arms of her husband and he'd hold her and tell her that both she and he know the truth, and that's all that matters.

But even Joseph was different. Before all of this, he had been kind, loving, maybe a little clueless and awkward, but she found that part of him cute. But now? Now he seemed cold and distant. He didn't touch her anymore. No hugs and kisses like other newlyweds. He barely held her hand as her ever bulging self waddled about the house. He seemed almost afraid of her, like she was made of fragile glass or was some wild animal, ready to bite his hand off if he got too close. To be fair, some days she did feel like a strange beast, but her wild wrath was always meant for the town gossips. Towards Joseph she only felt sadness and grief for the kind man who seemed to vanish overnight.

Joseph, for his part, wasn't afraid of Mary. He was afraid of that thing growing inside of her. That Messiah. 'What even is a Messiah?' he would ask himself, 'What would it even look like?' Question after question after question filled his head and choked his tongue. Would the Messiah pop out, fully formed and armed for battle, before riding to Rome to behead Caesar, slaughtering heathens and gentiles along the way? Would it be like a rabbi, and call him and his wife to repentance for some yet unknown slight against God? Why does a Messiah need a father?  Does a Messiah need a father? Doubts filled him and crippled him.

He would steal glances at Mary. She was sweaty and dirty and a little angry-looking. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to grab her, lift the small delightfully plumped woman over his head and tell her all the ways she made him feel. But what if that broke the rules? What if his own uncleanliness some how befouled her? She was a holy vessel, like the Ark of the Covenant, and he was just...Joseph, the guy who cut wood.

Even without the angels and prophesies, Joseph would have felt unsure. Technically he was a grown man. He had lived the appropriate number of years, gone through the right ceremonies, done everything that everyone says make you a man. But still, whenever he saw those broad-chested, thick bearded men who seemed to have all the answers he saw he gap between himself and them. Real men had the answers. Real men knew what to do when their children were born. Real men could manage to say more than three words to their own wives.

Late in the day they arrive in town. Joseph curses himself. He should have known the trip would take longer with Mary. He should have planned ahead. Mary quietly curses again. Seems the baby didn't like all that walking and is kicking her kidneys in rebellion. She looks at Joseph, hoping he can see her pain, hoping he'll at least acknowledge it.

“I'll find an inn. ” He mumbles to her, knowing that a real man would have scooped her up in thick, strong arms and said “Not to worry, my radiant jewel! I'll have a roof over your head before the stars can grow jealous of your beauty!”

The sun dips below the hills and still no inn. Joseph wants to tell his wife that he's sorry. That she deserves better. That she deserves a real man by her side. One who would wrap her up in the finest silks and build a grand palace around her, wherever she wishes. But the most he can manage is rushing to the next inn, and hoping there's room for two.

Mary is growing concerned. What started as the baby rebellion has turned into all out war. Why didn't she just stay home? Why did she want so badly to spend time with a husband who seemed more concerned with chatting with unhelpful innkeepers than his own suffering wife? If she wanted to have a baby and be ignored by Joseph, she could have done that at home! At least at home she had her cousin Elizabeth to talk to. The contractions were getting closer now. Elizabeth had warned her about this. It was only a matter of time before the baby arrived.

As soon as Joseph wandered in arm's reach Mary snatched his robe.

“It's coming.” she says through gritted teeth.

“What is?”

“The baby!” Mary grunts.

Joseph turns pale. A thousand new questions and doubts fill his mind. “Where-”

“Anywhere!” Mary hisses through the pain. “An ally, a hut, a stable! Anywhere that isn't here!”

They enter a stable, a stubborn cow is woken up and moved to make room. Joseph feels remarkably out of his depth. He always though that when this day came, Elizabeth would be there to handle things and he would help by looking after little baby John. Only a few months old, John was a funny kid with an unparalleled knack for getting bugs in his mouth. Joseph liked John. Would a Messiah eat bugs? Joseph shakes his head back to the present. In a panic he asks Mary what he should do.

Mary meets Joseph's eyes. They are big and brown and filled with concern. They are the eyes of the man she loves. She wants to bask in the warm, manly kindness of those eyes forever, but another contraction cruelly pulls her away.

“Water!” she grunts, remembering what she can from Elizabeth's occasional words of advice, “and cloth!”

Joseph scrambles for the needed materials, but the pained screams of his wife tear at his soul. A real man wouldn't need to scramble for scraps with his wife in pain. In his heart he cries to God. He begs for an answer, just one answer to any one of his endless questions.

Mary lies on a pile of hay, eyes filled with tears, body filled with pain, and heart filled with loneliness. So few people could understand the pain of her soul, and the one person who she wanted most to understand, the one person who was physically closest to her was worlds away. She prays between agonized gasps for relief.

Mary screams to high heaven and Joseph's heart shatters. He can't do anything for her. She deserves so much more than he can give, and he can't even bring himself to give her a competent hand.

“I'm sorry” he gasps. And he runs out of the stable into the street. He shouts and screams and cries for help. A city of strangers huddles in their beds and ignores him. He spies a group of men. Desperate, he rushes upon them, grabs their woolly, sheepskin robes and begs them to help. Through childish tears and snot and sobs he explains his predicament.

One of the younger men huffs. He says they have something important to do tonight. One of the oldest men waves a hand and his young companion and claps an arm around Joseph. “We're used to delivering lambs,” he says, patting Joseph on the back, “But I think we can manage a child, just for tonight.”

In the stable, Mary clutches her belly. She's been abandoned. Her only companion now is an irate cow glaring at her from the the corner. Another contraction comes and she clenches her eyes. Suddenly something grabs her hand. She slaps it away, thinking it's the cow, getting impatient. It gabs her hand again. She opens her eyes and sees Joseph. His big, kind, brown eyes filled with tears. She squeezes his hand back. Suddenly she is surrounded by a small army of strangers.

“They're here to help.” Joseph says.

And they do help. With practiced precision each one fills a task. Water is fetched, clean cloth is produced. Shortly a tiny, pink, screaming baby is introduced into the stable. The cow wanders out, giving up getting sleep in this stable on this night.

The strangers hand the baby to Mary. She is tired. She feels like she's been stretched out a mile. She looks at the baby, wondering if she had been screaming this loud a moment ago. She's about to fall asleep. She shakes off the exhaustion and remembers something Elizabeth told her. Wrap the baby up tightly as soon as you can, so he can grow up nice and tall. She tries to calm the baby while fishing for spare cloth.

Meanwhile the strangers are beginning to leave, but Joseph delays them. He wants them to teach him. He wants to know how to be a man, a father, a husband. He stumbles over his words, trying to get the question right. The strangers are insistent, though. They have something important to do tonight.

Mary has finally got the baby wrapped up, and that seems to have calmed him. Exhaustion is pulling at her eyelids like iron weights. The baby needs a place to sleep. A nearby manger has relatively clean hay. She puts her baby there and lies back for her own long sleep.

Joseph is stumbling over his words as the strangers grow more insistent that they have to leave. Suddenly one of the younger men begins to tremble. He tugs at his elder's robes and points to a corner of the stable. The older man looks at the manger and the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and begins to weep. The rest of the strangers follow suit, some weeping, some praying, some just standing and staring in awe. Joseph manages to eek out one more question, “What's wrong?”

The oldest man wipes the tears from his eyes and answers, “Absolutely nothing is wrong. It's just...well...” he scratches his bald head, looking for the words. “Earlier... when we were watching the sheep...there was this...angel.”

Instantly Mary snaps awake, all fatigue dispersing at that one word. “Angel?”

“Yes ma'am.” the old shepherd says sheepishly, “an angel, and-”

“I've seen one, too.” Mary says. “They're incredible!”

“And terrifying.” adds Joseph.

“And beautiful!” the Shepherd

The strange group spends the next few hours trading stories of their visions and the strange coincidences that brought them together.

While the shepherds and Mary are eagerly trying to explain the strange musical quality of an angel's voice the old Shepherd pulls Joseph aside. Joseph tries to ask twelve questions at once, but the shepherd stops him.

“She doesn't need you to have all the answers.” He tells Joseph, “She just needs you to be there.”

“But, how am I supposed to raise-”

“A day at a time. Children, sheep, men. Everything grows a day at a time.”

He gives Joseph a few more specific points of advice. And the begins to gather up his companions. He explains that the mother needs her rest, and they have sheep to feed. Slowly and reluctantly the shepherds are herded out.

Mary now feels more tired than ever. The baby begins to fuss. Joseph steps in and rocks his son.

He lies down next to Mary.

Haltingly, unsure, she moves towards him. His arm wraps around her and draws her in close. She rests her head on his chest and stares at her little baby boy. Her thoughts turn to the catty gossips of Nazareth. Without thinking she voices her fears, “What will they say when we come back home with a baby?”

Joseph squeezes her tighter, “Whatever they want. We know the truth. Besides, if it gets too bad, I'll bet we can get those shepherds to beat them up for us.”

Mary looks at Joseph, her tired mind trying to grasp what he just said. The joke dawns on her and she beings to laugh. Then as the emotional dam begins to burst the laughter turns to tears, and tears eventually fade into sleep. All the while Her husband holds her in his strong, protective arms.

And that's what I think the First Christmas was like; messy, loud, and full of people who had no idea what they were doing. So don’t feel bad if your Christmas is messy, loud and full of doubt. It puts you in good company.

[notanacousticsetcal]

be home soon - calum hood

summary - loosely inspired by cals short instagram story cover of better be home soon by crowded house. being in a relationship with calum while he’s away on tour and when he finally comes home :)

warnings - a lot of missing each other but no real drama

word count - 1.7k 

a/n - mostly just wrote this because i’ve been thinking about what it would be like a lot. self indulgent lmao

Copyright © 2020 @notanacousticsetcal. All rights reserved.

Your phone screen lit up with a goofy picture of Calum and Duke and you smiled, rinsing your hands before answering. 

“Hi, baby,” you said softly. You could tell by his sleepy features that he’d had a long day.

“I could fall asleep to your voice.” His head fell back on the couch behind him and you laughed fondly.

“Are you tired? I can let you go if you need your sleep.” He sat up immediately and began shaking his head fiercely.

“No, no. I’ve waited all day to talk to you. I miss you.” He sounded like he was hurting. You frowned at the screen. 

“I miss you, bubs. So much.” 

He sighed. “This is really hard, huh?” 

You smiled sadly and nodded. “Yeah, it is. Just counting down the days until I can see you again.” He stared at you for a moment and nodded.

“Me too, baby.” He laid back on a plushy blue pillow and got comfortable watching you. “Whatcha making?” He sounded like a little kid. 

You laughed. “Fish tacos. I wanted to try something new from that cookbook Sierra bought me for Christmas.” You began slicing up your toppings as you waited for the fish in the oven.

Calum groaned from the other end. “I’m starving and that sounds really good.”

You smirked at the camera before pushing it back so he could see you as you worked. “Why don’t you go eat something, my love?”

“The pizza should be here in twenty minutes, just waiting on that.” You hummed in understanding and continued assembling your ingredients. “You look so cute. I wish I could hug you.”

You blushed a light pink and shook your head. “I would kill for a Calum hug right about now.”

He laughed, adjusting the rim of his bucket hat. “As long as it's not me, I’m cool with that.”

Calum continued to watch you put your dinner together while he waited on his pizza. The last leg of the tour was in America so his timezone wasn’t so different from yours. You weren’t sure exactly what state he was in at the moment. 

“Alright, baby. My pizza’s here.” He frowned and gave you sad eyes at the realization that this would be the end of your call. 

“My dinner’s ready too. I’ll let you go now.” You picked up your phone and held it close to make sure you could see his face before you said goodbye. You don’t really know why it was always so hard to hang up the phone but it felt like a stab in the chest every time you did. 

“Okay, enjoy your food. It looks amazing.”

“Thanks, Cal. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”

“Alright, baby. Goodnight.” “Bye, bubs.”

You hung up the phone and set it on the counter, gripping the edge with your left hand. You felt tears prick at your eyes and a familiar burning in your throat. It felt like every day without him he got pushed a little further away. Every day you didn’t get to kiss him was harder than the last. All you wanted was to wrap yourself up in his arms and stay there forever. It felt like every day you were just living to see him again. It sucked. Only one more month. 

***

Calum was officially coming home from tour tomorrow. After 4 long months of agonizing pain and going to sleep alone every night, you would be in Calum’s arms again by midday tomorrow. You spent all day cleaning up the house and making sure that Calum didn’t have anything to worry about when he got home. He would just get to relax and settle back in.

Calum’s name popped up on your screen and you smiled. It was a phone call this time which was a little odd. At this time of night, Calum was normally done with the day and facetimed you. 

You accepted, pushing your questions aside and feeling overcome with excitement at talking to your boyfriend. 

“Hello?” You chirped happily.

“Hi, baby,” Calum said in his groggy bedtime voice. “What’re you up to?” You smiled, biting your lip at how adorable he sounded. 

“I was just about to shower and then watch The Nightmare Before Christmas with Duke.” You ruffled the small dog's fur and gave him a kiss on the nose. It was the perfect mid-October night for a Halloween movie. 

“How’s my little guy?” Calum asked. 

“He’s good, just misses his pops.” You grabbed some pajamas from your drawer and tucked them under your arm. 

“Tell him to hold on a little longer. I’ll give him as many cuddles as he wants tomorrow.” Cal laughs sleepily. 

“And what about me? Don’t I get any cuddles?”

“Baby, I’m going to cuddle you until you’re so sick of me you never want to see my face again.”

You gasped. “Are you kidding me? That’s impossible.”

Calum laughed and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. “I can’t believe I’m gonna have you in my arms in a few hours.”

You blushed. “I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much.”

Calum sighed. “It's like I’ve been away from a piece of me for 4 months. I don’t know how I functioned without you.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears for the millionth time since Calum walked onto that plane and left you 4 months ago. You sniffled softly, trying not to let it be known that you were crying. But Calum picked up on it. He always does.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “No more tears. I’ll be home before you know it, my love.”

You exhaled the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I know, I know. I just… I love you a lot and sometimes my body doesn’t know how to handle it.” 

The line crackled and you heard Calum laugh lightly. “I can’t think of one thing I’ve done in my life that was so good that somehow…  the universe thought I deserved you… but damn do I feel lucky it did.” 

Before you could cry any harder Calum said he had to let you go and hung up, leaving you to again cope with the overwhelming feelings of excitement and anticipation at the idea of seeing your boyfriend tomorrow.

*

Calum silently unlocked the front door, more concerned about waking Duke than you. The pup had super hearing and would surely wake you up with his barking if he heard Calum coming through the front door.

Calum had maybe decided to bend the truth a little and told you he would be arriving about 12 hours later than he actually would just so he would get the chance to surprise you at home. 

He pulled his luggage softly through the front door and abandoned his suitcase and his shoes there, making a beeline for your shared bedroom. Calum wanted nothing more than to fall asleep with you for the first time in 4 months, his muscles aching with exhaustion. 

He slowly pushed the bedroom door open, the faint sound of Jack Skellington talking still playing softly. 

Calum smiled as he approached you and Duke lying comfortably on the large plush bedding, the small dog tucked tightly into your waist. He was thankful Duke hadn’t woken up so Calum could be the one to let his presence be known.

Calum crouched on his knees next to the bed, taking a few moments to watch you peacefully sleeping before he would wake you up.

After a few minutes of rememorizing every minute detail of your face and watching the rise and fall of your chest as you took in breaths, Calum finally reached a hand up and brushed a stray hair away from your face, caressing your cheek softly with his thumb. 

You stirred softly under his touch but your eyes stayed closed so Calum’s hand fell down to your shoulder. He squeezed it lightly in an attempt to slowly lull you out of sleep and not scare you.

“Baby,” he cooed gently, “wake up.” 

The sound of Calum’s voice made you think you were just having a really good dream but you slowly came to as Calum continued to rub your upper arm. 

Once your eyes fluttered fully open and you were able to take in what exactly was happening, you realized that the man standing in front of you was not a figment of your imagination, he was really there.

“Cal?” You rubbed your eyes hard and looked at him again. He was definitely real.

“That’s me.” He gave you that cheeky smile that you love so much and you immediately dove into his arms, almost knocking the poor guy over. 

“Cal, you’re home,” you ran your fingers through his hair, still not fully believing this wasn’t just a really, really good dream. But no, his hair was real and his body fit against yours like it did the last time you hugged him four months ago and you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, never wanting to let him go. “I missed you so much. This doesn’t feel real.” Calum rubbed his hands softly up and down your skin, under the shirt of his you had on. “I love you.” He said into your shoulder and you felt like you were melting into him.

After a few more minutes like that, you pulled away from Calum and tugged him into bed. He greeted Duke with lots of pets and kisses and as soon as Calum laid down, Duke found a warm spot next to him. 

“You must be exhausted.” You sat upright looking down at him as he lay with his head on his pillow, running your hands through his hair.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of your cool hand. “I can’t sleep without you.” He said.

So you sunk down under the covers and Calum pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you and within minutes, you heard soft snores coming from behind you. 

He was finally home.

[aphroditewritings]

Yandere Bokuto

Sometimes she truly wonder how he managed to convince her to come here every time.

As soon as her and Bokuto started dating during the middle of their second years, he had outright begged for her to be there for all of his practices and games. Him staring up at her with those big beautiful yellow puppy dog eyes when she would tell him she might not be able to make his practice that night and spend an hour or two laying or sitting up in the bleachers waiting for Bokuto to finish with his team and take her home, that sometimes she just wants to go home first and rest.

“B-but I’ve been working on a new spike I want to show you! You can’t just leave me!” he would pout big beefy arms draping over her smaller form and causing a scene wherever they were. It wasn’t like she was genuinely uncomfortable when she went which she was grateful for. Bokuto made sure she always had food to eat, something to drink, stuff to keep her occupied for a long time including the DS and Tablet he had gotten her a few Christmas’s ago always at use and her fluffy blanket and pillow stuffed into her separate little duffel bag he had for her in his locker with the rest of her stuff that she used when laying out on the matt the coach always gave her not wanting to let the girl suffer on the uncomfortable bleachers every time she was there. Which was in fact every practice and/or game they had. He figured it was the least he could do for her knowing that on the rare days where under no circumstance she could show up, Bokuto missed balls like he was downright getting paid to make himself look like a fool. So he usually laid out one of the thick rubber matts in the corner of the gym or against the bleachers letting her be more comfortable and using her pillow and blanket than laying on the floor or sitting in the cold medal seats.

It had baffled most of the team at first, seeing the girl trudge through the gym doors every Tuesday and Thursday and game, even showing up for most of the extra practice days they had in the town gym on Sunday’s. Despite being homeschooled herself, being able to spend the day away and in peace from her growing more and more clingy boyfriend gave her a chance to breath. But the day would eventually roll around where Bokuto had a practice or god forbid a game where he expected her to show up with signs and cheering for him louder than anybody, when his mother would pull into her driveway and honk the horn her being just as rambunctious and hyper as her son excitedly driving the girl to said practice or game on the days when her own mother couldn’t drop her off.

Both of their mothers like the true sappy romantics they were always talked about how happy and cute the couple seemed. Bokuto hardly ever went into his “emo phase” as it was called when she was around, his own mom gushing about how much happier she made her son and how grateful she was that Bokuto had met her and how bright and loving her son was when he got to see her.

Hugging her plaid sweater closer to her body she watched as the city passed by her view, tall buildings and skyscrapers becoming fewer and fewer as the minutes passed until Bokuto’s moms car came to a stop in the parking lot outside of the gym. “They should be just starting, see you both in a little bit, sweetie” the woman beamed at her knowing she was coming over to their house to stay for the weekend, something Bokuto suprisingly talked her own mom into letting her do.

Giving the kind woman a small smile she grabbed her small backpack and the bag of fast food his mom had gotten her and Bokuto, hopping out of the car and dusting off her shorts before waving and prying open the gym doors the squeaking and rustic sounds making everyone in the gym turn to look at her.

“Baby!” she heard an exasperated voice yelp before feeling strong arms wrap around her the strong sent of faint sweat and the expensive calonge she had gotten him for his birthday her boyfriend always had on invading her senses. “Hey” she whispered quietly trying to not notice the entire team snickering to themselves as Bokuto planted little kisses everywhere on her face like she had been gone for months. In reality it had only been a few nights, Fukurodani cancelling their Tuesday practice that week because of bad weather and not wanting any students to get hurt walking home.

“Bokuto stop” she whined when he nuzzled his face into her neck breathing in her perfume he always told her he was obsessed with. She was beginning to think that her perfume wasn’t the only thing he was utterly obsessed with. “People are watching” she added finally shoving him back and little and getting a big pout from him. He still held onto her waist eyeing her hungrily and merely shrugged when he heard somebody let out a whistle behind them.

He cupper her jaw in his hand giving her lips a deep passionate kiss and swirling their tongues together before finally stepping back when he heard his coach telling him to quit fooling around and focus now that she was here. “I’ll be over here ok?” she said gesturing her head to the matt in the corner of the gym getting an eager nod from him and watched him run off back to the court. Taking out her blanket and pillow and popped down onto the matt and after eating some of her food fell asleep into a small nap.

Twirling the keys in his hand Bokuto watched as the last of the team piled out of the gym doors the coach giving him instructions to lock up the building for the night. A simple task they knew he could do despite him being...him. It was only putting some stuff away and locking the doors for the night, nothing anybody on the team hadn’t done a million times in the past before them all believeing it was only fair if everybody took turns in locking up instead of placing it all on one person all the time.

Giving one last wave to Kuroo who exited the gym Bokuto quickly put away the racks of volleyballs and mock scoreboards before slowly walking over to Y/N who slept peacefully on the gym matt. Getting on his knees Botuto brushed some hair back from her eyes before placing a light kiss on her lips. He hesitantly lifted the blanket off of her body his breath hitching a bit seeing her shorts had rode up on her body a bit in her slumber. Nervously he crouched in front of her pealing her legs open and beginning to unbutton her shorts lightly enough where she wouldn’t wake up.

He had woken her up like this before. Face buried deep and practically inhaling her, his talented and eager tounge bringing her to a wake up call in the form of an orgasm. He had just never done it like this in a place like this is all but he knew you wouldn’t mind. Lifting up ur hips a tad he helped pull your short and panties down tossing them to the side on the gym floor and licking his lips knowing the real treat was to come. Lowering himself down he parted your tighs and used his thumbs to spread your folds apart, his finger lightly rubbing your clit while he practically drooled at the sight.

“Your so pretty baby” he cooed gather spit in his mouth and letting it drop onto your clit dripping down your cunt. Your hips bucked up at the feeling of the cold air your whimers indicating you were going to wake up soon if he continued. Wanting to waste no time he kissed up and down your pussy lips, tongue darting out to lick over your clit. A small gasp came from your mouth you stirring in your sleep making him smirk. “Stay still gorgeous, I got you” he whispered before cracking his neck then diving in.

His lips immediately wrapped around your clit, sucking on it and twirling it around with his tongue in fast motions making your eyes snap open and gasp louder at the feeling. Your eyes darted around trying to access your sourroundings but the feeling of Bokuto’s mouth made your moan and try to arch your back of the matt as he greedily sucked your clit in his mouth. One hand reached up and pushed down on your pelvis making your back fall flat again and more intensely feel what he was doing.

“N-not here Bok—AH!” she exclaimed feeling his fingers entering her and his tounge increasing its pace. Pumping in and out of her and sighing contently into her pussy the vibration going straight to her clit at hearing the squelching sounds coming from her. “Please” she pleaded trying to buck her hips away in embarrassment at the feeling of everything happened echoing loudly off the walls of the gym and in their ears. He continued to lap at her sucking everything up he could and burying his face as deep as it would go, quiet groans and hums of approval and delight coming from him at the sounds she was making for him.

“We’re gonna get caught” she tried to reason only to let out a moan at the end as his thumbs pealed back her clit hood even more and his tounge swirling across the swollen puffy bead. “Don’t worry, the cameras won’t see us I’ve already turned off the lights” he said before sucking her clit back into her mouth and starting to sissor inside of her when he found her sensitive spot. Eyes widening Y/N looked around happy to find that Bokuto meant it when he said that no one but him would ever look at her like that and that he still respected her privacy.

It was pitch black in the gym, the small corner they were in having none of the school cameras in it and only a single few strands of moonlight peaking in over the window above the gym doors shining right down on her pussy and where Bokuto was continueing his brutal and fast pace. “Just let go baby I’m here” he coaxed giving a few kitten licks to her clit before sucking on it again and playing around with it with his tounge before she squealed, finally feeling the coil on her stomach release and snap into white eyed pleasure.

But he didn’t stop at that.

Fucking her through it with his fingers still he ckuckled before bringing his mouth back down and continuing to devour her making her squirm in overstimulation. “Bo I can’t, p-please I need a break” she gasped watching and biting her lip at him slyly looking up at her but continueing to lap at her hungrily. “No breaks” he said giving a loud smack to her butt making her shriek and curl her toes knowing she was in for a night of not being able to walk the next day.

Minutes continued and seemed to drag on and on, the slurping sounds of her boyfriend still lapping at her cunt in the gym until she had came a good 4 times, or maybe 5. She wasn’t really counting and instead wailing and sobbing, tears falling down her face in sheer pleasure as an unfamiliar sensation boiled in her stomach. “B-b-bo I feel like I need to pee” she confessed bashfully knowing she could tell him anything. He chuckled a little continueing to finger fuck her, “You just have to come baby, maybe squirt but it’s ok, it’s all ok I’m with you” he said making her moan even louder and clench down harder when he returned back to sucking her clit again. He cares so much.

“Ah, ah, ah I’m—“ her breath got caught in her throat, a loud wail coming from her as she squirted out liquid onto Bokuto’s chin and mouth him sucking and eating it up like a dog continueing to stimulate her through her orgasam. Finally letting up and allowing her to close her thighs when she began convulsing at the feeling of him still down there he all but jumped up placing a kiss onto her mouth and letting her taste herself as he assisted it getting her clothes back on.

“Mmm” you moaned deeply feeling him give your panty and shorts covered pussy a light tap, the small feeling enough to make you jump. “Let’s get you going” he said excitedly grabbing her things in his arms and picking her up bridal style bringing her outside and carrying her to his home.

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[creativityobsessed]

Could I please ask for a Kurodachi 26?

I'm so sorry this took so long! I hope you like it!

Read on Ao3

The first time Adachi has a mid-night anxiety attack at Kurosawa’s apartment is only a month after the first time he’d stayed in Kurosawa’s bed. He wakes up disoriented from a dream of a massive tsunami wiping out Tokyo and everything east of it. In it, he was stuck at home, but had needed to get to work somehow, despite the vast majority of the city being underwater, and, because this was the way of dreams, he forgot how to swim halfway there and began drowning. His heart is racing, his breath catching in his throat as he gulps for air. He rolls over onto his back and uses his right hand to readjust his left - he must have fallen asleep on it and he can’t feel or move it on its own.

After a few moments of listening to Kurosawa’s light snoring beside him, he sighs. With all this adrenaline he’s not going back to sleep any time soon. If he were at home he’d read or play on his switch in the bed, but he doesn’t want to wake Kurosawa. Instead, he slides out of bed and pads softly out toward the kitchen and living area. Even though his breath has steadied, he can still feel his heart racing. Perhaps a cup of tea would help calm him.

He fills the kettle and flips the switch, then reaches for a mug from the rack at eye level. Then he goes through a few drawers, looking for the tea. At home he might have done something with ginger and lemon, but Kurosawa doesn’t seem to have anything like that so he settles for a peppermint.

As the kettle comes to a boil he switches it off, darting glances at the bedroom. He’d never noticed how loud everything is, but now that he doesn’t want to wake Kurosawa, every noise feels loud as thunder. Gently, carefully, he pours the water over the tea, and then leans over to breathe in the steam. Just that one deep breath helps settle him, a heaviness gathering behind his throat and in his shoulders that helps him relax.

He takes the mug over to the futon and sits, wrapping his fingers around the warm ceramic. The heat seeps through his hands, his fingers on the left side still tingling from being asleep, and the combination almost feels like sharp needles are trying to work their way out from the inside. It’ll go away in a few moments, but he winces all the same. It’s never pleasant when this happens. Even with the pain, the weight of the warm mug in his hands steadies him in the real world. He is safe, there’s no disaster, and Kurosawa is sleeping in the next room.

Adachi smiles a little at that thought. Just a few months ago, the thought of Kurosawa sleeping in the next room would have been anything but comfort, a cause for more anxiety. Now he imagines Kurosawa’s concern if he knew this happens semi-regularly, and the way that Kurosawa gathers him up into warm hugs at the slightest sign that Adachi is worried, and even the thought is comforting. He takes a deep breath of the minty steam and sips at his tea again.

He loses track of time for a bit, imagining what it’d be like for Kurosawa to see this side of him, and before long his cup is near empty. From behind him he hears the shuffling steps of Kurosawa’s slippered feet, barely lifting off the ground.

“Adachi?” Kurosawa murmurs, and Adachi carefully sets the mug down on the coffee table before turning around. Then he bites back a giggle.

Kurosawa, perfect Kurosawa, has the worst case of bed head Adachi has ever seen. A tuft stands on end at the back and the typically-perfect bangs are swept to one side and exposing ears that Adachi had never noticed were so big? In contrast the other side poufs out into a cloud that almost makes a halo - Adachi works hard to keep a straight face at the thought: who knew that all it takes is a little sleep to see him in his true form!

“Why are you up?” Kurosawa asks, squinting at the soft light from the street lamps that is coming in the window. He rubs an eye with the back of his hand, looking nothing more than a small child in his sleepiness. Adachi has the sudden mental image of adult Kurosawa in footie pajamas and dragging a stuffed animal by the ear and he really can’t stop himself from laughing this time. Kurosawa just looks confused.

It takes a few moments before Adachi stops laughing enough to explain.

“I’m sorry, I just. I’ve never seen you like this before, you always are so put together by the time I get up. It’s…” Adachi searches for the right word, one that won’t upset Kurosawa, “It’s endearing.”

Kurosawa just blinks at him.

“It’s okay, I’m okay I promise. Much better now,” Adachi reassures him. Kurosawa shuffles over to the futon and sits next to Adachi.

“What happened?” He asks finally, taking in the half-drunk cup of tea. Adachi follows his gaze and lifts the mug to take a sip. It’s gone a little cold but the mint still tastes nice.

“I, um. I had a nightmare. It wasn’t real but when I woke up it was like. I don’t know, my adrenaline was going and I just kind of. Well I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep right away so rather than lie in bed and stew over it, I got up and made tea,” Adachi gestures with the mug in his hand, and then adds, almost as an afterthought, “I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“You could have woken me sooner.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You need your sleep. Besides, I knew that if I just distracted myself long enough to avoid a full anxiety spiral, it’d go away and I’d go back to sleep.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Adachi yawns - a good sign that if he tried to go back to sleep, he might.

“Does this happen often?” Kurosawa asks, sounding very concerned. Adachi winces. He hasn’t really told Kurosawa about all of his anxiety problems yet. Still, after the fiasco at Christmas they’d promised to talk to each other.

“It… can,” Adachi says finally, “but it sort of comes and goes. It depends on my general stress level I guess.”

“Adachi,” Kurosawa says, and he sounds completely awake now, “Promise me you'll wake me if it happens again when I’m here. Please? I’d much rather you wake me up than wake up myself with you gone and wonder where you are.”

“I don’t want-“

“Besides,” Kurosawa pushes on, a devious twinkle in his eye, “I can be very, very distracting.”

Kurosawa reaches a finger for Adachi’s chin and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s soft and warm, close-lipped, just a reminder to Adachi that he’s there and he loves him. Just before breaking away, though, Kurosawa parts his lips just a little and runs just the tip of his tongue along the seam of Adachi’s lips. He chuckles at Adachi’s tiny gasp.

“See? Very distra-“ Kurosawa interrupts himself with a huge yawn “-ting.” Adachi smiles.

“Okay,” he concedes, “I promise. For now though, we should go back to bed.” He downs the last sip of his tea and stands, offering Kurosawa a hand. Kurosawa gives him a sleepy smile back.

“I’d like that.”

[tarteausuga]

Home for Christmas

CW: just pure fluff, really. As fluffy and as soft as snow but not as cold. Idol! Mark Lee x reader. Johnny's there too but just as support.

WC: 3.3K

Summary: in which you're alone for Christmas and Mark tries to give you a gift to make you feel less sad.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas. I hope you're all happy, healthy and safe. I'll also be taking a break from TBTC next week and posting something for New year's ✌️

Long distance relationships were hard but they had their good sides as well as bad. One good thing is that you had a lot of time for yourself but on the bad side, you often felt lonely whenever you're out and see people with their significant others. You never really had to spend money on dates but conversely, you never had a chance to go out and show off your boyfriend in public. The time difference often made it hard for you to talk but neither of you ever missed out on your calls.

Mark would call you first thing in the morning when you woke up. It would be midnight to him but luckily, he was a night owl and didn't mind keeping you company while you got ready for your day. Then, you would go about your day before calling him at 5pm, 9am his time, to do the same for him. He often spent his mornings at home before heading to the studio for practice or to write so it was ample time to catch up and just talk about random things. He liked to watch you cook and he often would watch something in Netflix with you. Sometimes you were lucky enough to have him talk you to sleep, or sing you a song he's been working on to send you off into your dream world.

It sounds perfect in a way. You're both able to focus on your lives during the day because the other is safely asleep but you craved the physical aspects. You wanted to be held, you wanted to hold his hand, hell you just wanted to eat a meal with him sitting across from you at the table instead of on a little screen.

The past year and a half has been spent like this. You were childhood friends, growing up together before he moved overseas. You often spent recess running around together and sharing snacks. He wasn't necessarily your best friend, but he was one of the few friends you had growing up and even to this day. It's not that you weren't social but you just preferred being by yourself a lot. You kept in touch with the few friends you did have and that was all you really needed.

It was a surprise to run into him given the circumstances on both ends. He was an incredibly talented and relatively famous Idol in another country; and you moved across the country for school but ended up staying there after landing a good job. You were aware that he would be performing with his group but it wasn't your scene. And you couldn't get tickets anyway since they sold out almost instantly.

Out on your lunch break, you were grabbing a midday iced coffee. But you were trying to juggle setting up meetings and calls with a few important people so you weren't really paying attention when you went to grab the coffee, thinking it was yours.

"Oh I'm sorry." Both you and the owner of that drink said.

Finally, you looked up from your phone at the man and for some reason, you had a feeling of familiarity with him. After squinting your eyes and trying to go through your roledex of people you've encountered in your life, your brain finally figured it out. "Mark?" You say with bewilderment.

"Oh my god! It is you!" He pulled you into an extremely tight hug. "I saw you but I couldn't really tell and I didn't want to go up to a random stranger." He laughed and you couldn't help but do the same. Mark always had that effect on people, he would laugh or smile and no matter who he was with, they would do the same.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, somehow completely forgetting that he was due to perform the next day, which he reminded you of. "Oh! That's really exciting." If you were honest, you were distracted by how he's grown up. He used to be this cute boy that you would trade your fruit snacks for cookies with. But now he was incredibly handsome but still had those captivating eyes that could make you melt.

"This is amazing, I can't believe we ran into each other like this." He pulled you into another hug that brought a blush across your face. You were in a daze as he introduced you to the 2 other guys with him but you didn't really catch their names. You just noticed that they were also incredibly handsome. "But hey, if you're free tonight, we should catch up!" You agreed, thankfully.

And you could say the rest was history but beyond that one fateful day/night, you haven't seen Mark. A full year and a half later, you were entering your second Christmas without him but unfortunately, you weren't able to go home to your family to distract yourself from the boy you wanted to be with during the holidays. Not usually the type to be into overly romantic gestures, you uncharacteristically were craving the experiences that couples usually had in the movies. Your sisters told you countless times to stop watching Hallmark Christmas movies but you really couldn't help it when there was nothing else to watch on TV.

December 23rd. You were staring at your miniature Christmas tree that you had bought for your small apartment. The rest of your apartment was fully decorated in an effort to fill the emptiness you felt but it didn't seem to help much beyond wishing that Mark were there to experience it with you.

It was a perfect Christmas, the snow was falling outside and you reminisced about that rare snow day you had in your West coast town. That day was incredible. It was Christmas Eve and the whole city shut down due to the influx of white that they rarely had to deal with. Mark had banged on your door and begged your parents to let you go out and play despite it being Christmas Eve. That day was spent building snowmen, having snowball fights and everything before everyone went home and passed out to wake up to a white Christmas.

Mark had expressed to you that he missed that the most. Those snow days where everything shut down and you could just go out and be free to run around and have fun. You wished to be able to send some snow to him. But instead, you called him.

"Hi baby, how are you?" He said in a gravely voice as he had just woken up.

"I'm okay, just miss you a lot." You pouted and he copied your expression. "But look!" You showed him the view outside your window, including the snow capped trees and pillows of white on any surface it could cling on.

"Oh my god, that's beautiful." He sighed. "I wish I could be there to see it with you. I hate that you're alone this year for Christmas."

"It's okay." You flash a weak smile. "My coworker is going to drop off some food for me from her parents. I'll just have a Harry Potter marathon."

"Okay. I'll join you for that." He smiles. "My present for you should be showing up soon. I hope it gets there before the 25th."

"Hard to say. Doesn't matter if it does or not, I'm just happy to get something from you." You ease him of his worries. He often got worked up over the smallest things and you found it cute the way he would furrow his eyebrows in frustration only to breathe a sigh of relief when you told him to do so. You were his comfort and he was yours. Even if you were thousands of miles apart.

"I have to get going, love. I'll talk to you later okay?" He says and you are confused as he usually never has nice to do before noon. But you shrugged it off and assumed he just had some year end things to work on.

"Yeah I'll talk to you later. I love you." You blew him a kiss and he did the same before hanging up.

To be honest with yourself, you were starting to hate saying goodbye. Your heart would feel so heavy whenever a call ended and recently, that feeling got worse and worse with every call. Things were starting to feel like they were all for nothing. You trusted Mark and knew him well enough to know you were the only one that would be on his mind but that physical aspect was something you were craving. The simplest things like just being in the same room while you were both quietly working on your own things, exchanging loving glances every so often.

You dozed off watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and was woken up on Christmas Eve by the blinding white of the snow capped exteriors. Confused, you searched for your phone to check the time: 9:27. Mark has never failed to call you at 8AM every single day. It was your routine. It was your ritual. You send him a message but his phone doesn't even receive it. Is his phone off? You ask yourself. He did sound a bit off yesterday… Or was he just tired and groggy? Maybe he's having a late night in the studio. He said he didn't have anything scheduled for a few days though. In an effort to mitigate your panic, you throw your phone to the other side of your bed.

Forcing yourself to roll out of bed and make some coffee to try to dull some of the panic you were feeling. He wouldn't just ice me out on Christmas Eve. He's probably just tired and fell asleep before he could call, you convinced yourself.

It was nearing lunch time and you still didn't hear from your boyfriend. You had spent the morning curled up on the couch watching Disney Channel Original Christmas Movies, trying to distract yourself but every time something romantic happened, you sighed and wished for Mark. His phone still wasn't receiving your messages. Had his phone died?

In desperation, you text the only other person you knew who was close with him: Johnny. You had met Johnny that day that you ran into Mark but never processed it until you began watching their performances on YouTube. Mark had given you Johnny's number so you could apologize for ignoring him but you would occasionally ask him for favours. Usually asking him to get something for Mark from you. He often said, "I only do this because I love Mark and you love Mark."

You [11:34AM]: Hey Johnny? Are you awake?

You [11:34AM]: Merry Christmas, by the way!

It was almost 4AM so you would be surprised if he was still awake but he often stayed up late with Haechan so you figured it was worth a shot.

Johnny [11:39AM]: what's up?

Johnny [11:38AM]: Merry Christmas to you too :)

You [11:40AM]: is Mark okay? I haven't heard from him since last night. I'm getting worried.

You watched as Johnny's message bubble appeared and disappeared a few times. He was hesitating…

Johnny [11:42AM]: he's fine. You'll probably hear from him soon ;)

You [11:42AM]: ?? What's that supposed to mean?

Johnny simply replied with a shrug emoji and you wished you could send a punch through a text message. But you sighed and continued sipping on your hot apple cider as you pressed play on another movie. Johnny doesn't lie so I'll believe him for now.

You had somehow fallen asleep and you only realized when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. Without even checking the caller ID, you press the green answer button and put it on speaker as you tried to pull yourself out of the afternoon nap haze.

"Hello?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"Hey baby, sorry I've missed your messages. Johnny said you were worried about me?" Mark's voice shook you awake. You scrambled to sit up before picking up your phone and taking it off speaker to hear him more clearly.

"Mark? Are you okay?"

He simply laughed, "I'm okay babe. I'm sorry for worrying you." He apologized again.

"No, it's okay. I was just worrying over nothing. What were you doing?"

"I was at the airport." He said and you could tell there was something up by the tone of his voice. Mark could never lie to you even if he tried.

"And?"

"And I need you to come pick me up." He teased and you became even more confused which made you a bit upset as you didn't like being led on.

"Mark I can't, you're in another country." You roll your eyes even though he can't see.

"Baby, I'm not. I'm here." And it finally clicked in your head.

"Wait! You're here? Like here? Like in the same city?" You try not to scream.

"Yes, exactly. I wanted to surprise you better but the snow delayed things…"

"It's okay I'll come now!" You practically yell into the phone.

"Drive carefully!" He warned you before hanging up.

Like a tornado, you tried to clean up your apartment so your boyfriend didn't think you were a complete slob. At the same time, you were trying to pick out a cute outfit and do your hair in an effort to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

With your best effort, you shrugged when you checked yourself in the mirror before pulling on your parka and heading out the door. As your car warmed up, you reminded yourself that Mark had seen you at your literal worst. From the late night mental breakdowns to a hungover morning from having a few too many drinks with your coworkers, Mark had seen it all and always assured you that you looked amazing. Maybe he was lying a few times during those moments but he never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect for him.

You did your best to drive calmly to the airport. There wasn't much of a choice as the other cars on the road were also trying to get to their destinations safely so traffic was moving at a slower pace. After what seemed like the longest car ride you've ever taken, you pulled into a parking stall at the airport and checked your phone to see that Mark had sent you the gate he was at, waiting for his luggage. You practically sprinted across the parking lot and road, having a few close calls with other pedestrians and a few cars. But you couldn't help yourself. You were finally getting to see him.

Arriving at his gate, you tried to catch your breath as you scanned the crowd around the baggage carousel looking for Mark. When the two of you finally made eye contact, you burst through the crowd and jumped into his arms. You thought you would tackle him down but he was surprisingly strong and not only caught you but picked you up, allowing your legs to wrap around him like a koala baby. People aw'd and some even clapped while others pulled out their phones to candidly capture your reunion.

"You're here." You choked back tears, breathing in his scent and making sure you locked it up in your memory for future use.

"I'm here." He breathed into your ear which triggered the tears to start falling. He placed you back on your feet but steadied you in the warmth and safety of his arms. He chuckled while he wiped your tears away, "why are you crying?"

"I don't know, I just missed you so much." You sniffled while looking up at him with wet eyes. It's been so long that you had forgotten that he was taller than you by more than a few centimeters. So when he leaned down to kiss you, you were surprised but also extremely comforted as a wave of warmth filled up the emptiness in your heart.

"My little crybaby." He placed another kiss on your forehead.

You clung on to each other until his suitcase dropped down from the chute. Hand-in-hand, you led him to your car. Amazingly, you navigated the whole way there while beaming up at Mark the whole time. He reciprocated but occasionally pulled you to the side to avoid running into someone else.

The car ride back to your apartment was just full of you two talking about anything and everything. From when he planned all of this and how he managed to get out of his activities to Johnny almost ruining the surprise when he struggled to say something that would both ease your worries but not let you in on the secret. The whole time, Mark's hand was on your thigh as you needed both hands to properly manoeuvre your car through the snow. You sometimes caught Mark looking outside with pure wonder and amazement as he took in the image of the city blanketed by the snow. The smile on your face never left as you tried to process every moment with him to keep in your memories.

"So how long are you staying?" You say as you take the elevator up to your apartment. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you had a feeling that your boyfriend who was usually uncomfortable with physical attraction, wouldn't keep a hand off of you the whole time he was there.

"I have to leave the day after Christmas." He says quietly.

Trying not to be upset by the short time together, you reminded yourself that it was better than nothing. "We'll make it work." You say simply to him while learning up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Mark felt overwhelmed by your apartment. The moment he stepped in, he was greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and oranges. He tried to take as many mental notes as he could while walking around and taking in every single detail of your place. This was your home and he felt like every little knick-knack strategically placed by you was a piece of you.

"Here." You handed him a cup of apple cider to warm up.

"Thank you." He added a kiss to your temple. Suddenly remembering something, he let out a little gasp before placing his cup down on the coffee table and going to his backpack. He pulled out a box wrapped in red paper and a golden bow that was slightly flattened from its journey to the other side of the world to you.

"What's this?" You ask when he places it in your hands, taking a seat next to you.

"Just open it." He smiles. The excitement was practically bursting from him as he anticipated you opening the box.

"Your gift is probably on the doorstep of your mom's place right now." You sighed.

"It's okay baby, I can't wait to open it but just open yours now." He said.

The lid lifted to reveal a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a little purple gem dangling from it. "Mark…" you coo, your eyes welling up with tears again.

"Are you going to cry again?" He laughs and you playfully poke his side. "I know purple is your favourite colour… It's not much but I thought you'd like it." He said softly while he fixed it around your neck. You smiled up at him before you situated yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs.

"It's perfect." You kiss him, "what else did you get me?" You pull back when he tries to deepen the kiss.

"What do you mean?" He stared blankly at you.

"You said it's not much so where's the rest of my present?" You say mischievously.

"You said it's perfect but you want more?" He cocks an eyebrow up.

"Well… I haven't seen you in a year and a half, there has to be more." You tease.

"I'm your present aren't I?" He smirks, grabbing the bow from the box and sticking it onto his head.

"I guess…" you laugh while leaning in to kiss him again. "You're lucky you're cute." You say as he stands up, making sure to wrap your legs around him before turning towards your bedroom.

[slothgiirl]

percolating gently (noah x mc)

au in which jane marshall lives and mc and noah and jane run off to live happily ever after a family of three and also smut (if you don’t want to read that skip the section that goes “its christmas, technically”. 

title from a tennessee williams quote 

15k

It's the three of them in the end. Jane. Noah. And you. Just like it started. Just like it had been.

Always you caught up between the two Marshall twins; Jane’s hand in yours gripping tight and never backing down as she poured water into dirt to make mud. At nine, and never having shared Jane’s attention before, Noah had snubbed you on more than one occasion, shooting down watching Resident Evil just because you had suggested it.

It was funny how you'd befriended Noah first. Jane had a fever the week your parents moved to Westchester (to study some microbe that was super rare or some other incredibly niche nerdy thing). You'd been left to roam the neighborhood on your own as per usual, drawing trees and pets you wished for in chalk, and then Noah.

Noah.

Redfield- Jane’s let up at least a little. You're no longer stuck to that awful chair in terror but griping Noah's shoulders, your fingers clutching the fabric of his denim jacket because he can't, you won't let him take her place.

He's been through so much already.

They both had.

“Noah,” you stammer out, chilled to the bone from terror or the fact that you were in a damp and freezing underground chamber--probably both. “Noah, you can't!” You tighten your grip on him even as his frown deepens, anger clear on his features as he glares down at you.

You cut him off before he can snap at you. Looking over at Jane, no longer blazing, but hovering around, a shadow spilling into the corners of the room, eyes a cold blue without an ounce of friendliness or curiosity.

“I'm sorry,” you tell her, because this was all your fault. You should've never encouraged her. You should've saved her. You should've done more: anything but brush the memory of her away instead of dealing with the events of that summer. Denial had long been your method of choice but here Jane was. It had all been real.

You owe her this much.

And Noah-

“I promised I'd be there for you,” you think of the whistle, “I promised I'd protect you so that's what I'm going to do now,” you say even as your hands shake. “Let me take your place.”

You move to stand, but Noah doesn't budge, his head shaking as his agonized wide eyes meet yours. There's always been a sincere quality in the warmth of Noah's brown eyes that put you at ease and had you feeling like you two were the only people in the world and you could never say no to him; not now. He's a mess (just how you feel), beanie about to slide off his tangled hair, tear tracks down his cheeks. There's a pull in your chest, the painful need to throw your arms around him and hug him until the world stops being this shitty but you doubt you'd ever leave his side if you hug him now.

Noah shakes his head. “It should be me,” he utters into the eerie acoustics of the chamber, the horror of the situation audible in his voice. “It should have been me then. I can finally make things right.”

Your lip grumbles as you cry out, “don't say that,” your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, “don't you dare say that bullshit Noah-we were kids! None of this,” you look around, look at Jane, “this shouldn't have happened to anyone. And it wasn't anyone's fucking fault!”

If-when you got out of this, you were going to throw hands with Mrs. Marshall.

You used to wish she’d been your mother.

The shadow that is Jane inches closer.

Right.

It had to be you or him.

His skin was warm against your hand and you don't-you don’t think you can live in a world where Noah isn't there and he's had the shittiest time and you could've reached out but you didn't and he doesn't deserve this because he thinks he deserves this.

Noah thinks he should've died.

Fuck.

This was all so fucked up.

“It's okay,” Noah whispers softly, his hand covering yours before gently removing your hand from his cheek, removing your hold on him. “It's okay.”

“But-” you look at Jane.

You didn't know what was worse, a world without Noah in it or a world where Noah became some twisted monster the same way Jane had over the years of loneliness. No one started out a monster.

You shake your head, reaching for Noah's hand, “I promised I wasn't leaving you again.”

His eyes widen in shock, giving him that doe eyes look that sort of made you want to kiss him, as if he'd forgotten all about that moment, as if he thought he wasn't worth it but Noah deserved more than death. He should get to go to culinary school and deal with shitty customers at Baby Jane’s.

And it was too late to save the day.

If you were being honest, it was nine years too late. It was all about doing the best you could  in impossible circumstances because Jane didn't deserve to spend an eternity alone and scared and a monster either.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you swallow thickly before replying in a steady voice, having made your choice the moment Noah had been willing to go find Dan alone, when he'd opened up to you at the shop and you realized all this time it hadn't just been you dealing with the repercussions of Redfield, “Together.”

You weren't going to fail Noah again.

Noah is speechless.

But Jane was always able to go with the flow. A shadowy limb ghost over both your hands, in the vein of those cheesy moments in anime when a best friend speech got everyone through a big battle.

“Allll play too g etherR.”

“Yeah,” Noah says sadly, accepting that there was no version of this ending that didn't end in tragedy. “together.”

At least this way, you could be monsters together.

“It's okay Jane,” he tells his sister, his hand squeezing yours, “we’ll take over from here.”

*

*

*

You wake up cold, thinking that you'd left your bedroom window open (not that you were doing much sleeping in that room after the Dan night terror) again, but you're greeted with the sight of Jane curled up asleep between you and Noah looking the same as she had at the many sleepovers you'd have at their house. You don't know if she's real or if this is a dream or if you're dead and this is just a figment of your new reality, but you don't care.

Finally, you understand the ending of Inception.

You don't want to wake them up, still exhausted yourself, but Jane keeps shivering and you can only imagine how worried your friends were. Your phone’s dead.

You couldn't stay here.

“Noah,” you whisper, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. “Noah…”

He grumbles in his sleep, but doesn't wake up.

“Noah,” you hiss.

“What,” Noah slurs, shifting as he lifts his head, jostling Jane at his side but your friend who was dead, was previously dead, continues to sleep looking like a particularly angelic little girl.

You can tell when the situation dawns on him: the twitch of his lips as his mouth settles into a frown, brows becoming drawn in thought.

It's day outside.

You're not sure which day.

Noah's phone is also dead.

Both of you stumble through the woods half asleep, Noah carrying Jane as if she was the most precious thing in the world which she was because she had been dead but now she wasn't and you were beginning to hope this was real and not a trick and that Jane was getting a shot at a normal childhood.

“We should go to my house,” you offer, keeping your voice low as to not disturb Jane who continued to sleep, no wonder Andy and Ava had been able to draw so many mustaches on her back in the day. “It's closer.”

And also you had no way of explaining how Jane had suddenly come back to life. That was something to process later. First a warm bed and sleep and then you had to let your friends know you weren't dead and figure out the whole Jane being alive with Noah. But first, sleep.

“Yeah, okay,” Noah answer’s, clearly still in shock. “Sounds good.” He says as if you two were discussing the weather and not sudden resurrection.

Then again, was this really that big of a leap considering everything that happened in the last few months?

You kick off your shoes and curl up with the Marshall twins to sleep.

*

*

*

“Why are you so much taller,” Jane asks once you’ve all woken up and yes, Jane’s still there, flesh and blood and the idea begins to solidify that she’s alive and well, well maybe not, you don’t know how much she remembers if at all and you still don’t know what to do with her but for now Noah’s rifling around your sparse kitchen, sending you a judgemental look at the half empty pancake box mix that expired a month ago but there’s no gross mold or anything so he uses it anyway, unwilling to leave Jane alone for a second.

Noah smiles easily, which has you smiling, “I’m not tall,” he replies to his sister, “you just shrunk.”

She frowns, nose wrinkling and you had forgotten she did that when she was upset, her nose wrinkling up as her lips turn downward. It was adorable. Then in classic Jane fashion she decides, “that’s a lie.” And sticks her nose up in the air, her fingers continuing to do whatever in your hair. It feels nice, her small fingers weaving clumsily through your thick hair, but Jane had never actually learned to braid so you’re pretty sure she’s just tangling your hair up but you wouldn’t refuse Jane anything right now.

It’s been days since the dance.

You have countless missed calls from your friends, texts getting increasingly and increasingly panicked, and nothing from either of your parents.

“Turn around,” Jane squeaks, tapping your shoulder urgently.

“Alright, alright,” you say, shifting in your seat. She’s tiny. All red hair and freckles and she hasn’t left your side since waking you up, knees in your side as she’d yelled that she was bored and wanted to play so loud it had woken Noah up.

Jane looks at you with a frown. “You’re big too.” Then her lower lip wobbles.

Shit.

Hastily, you pull her onto your lap, wrapping your arms around her.

“Why am I still small,” she whispers, looking up at you with the same wide brown eyes you were so used to.

“Uh,” you swallow thickly, trying to figure something out because maybe she didn’t remember and wasn’t that for the best? Wouldn’t that be the best case scenario? The only problem is you’re barely eighteen and not at all prepared to handle a nine year old. Had you really been this small when your parents decided to fuck off? “It’s because. . .you’re special, like Peter Pan.”

She crunches up her nose for a second, thinking. Then in her child innocence, she nods, deciding she likes the explanation. “You should’ve come with me,” Jane pats your cheek sadly, “grown ups are so boring.”

Noah wheezes, a pancake slipping off the spatula as his shoulders shake with laughter.

You hadn’t had time to talk about what had happened, what he had done, and you certainly hadn’t had time to process your feelings on any of it, but you were always glad to see him laughing.

“Someone had to take care of your dumb brother,” you reply, legs kind of going numb with her weight.

Jane nods sagely, “Noah is dumb. Because he’s a changeling.”

When you were kids, you’d both been obsessed with goblins and trolls and fairy tales. You two would dig in the dirt looking for hag stones. Sticks would double as magic wands and swords. The old fur jacket Jane liked to play dress up with was her selkie skin and you would take turns hiding it around the house.

Noah rolls his eyes. He hadn’t liked your weirdo kid games the first time around, he liked them even less now and you can’t help but grin at his expense. “You’re the redhead in the family.”

Jane blows a raspberry.

What a way to win an argument.

It’s past midnight before Jane crashes.

You’re on your third watch of frozen which had seemed like a great way to keep Jane inside the first time when you’d suggested it (kids loved that movie) and had become the worst, as Jane made you watch the movie again and again, singing “do you want to build a snowman” at the top of her lungs. That hadn’t stopped you and Noah from helping her find all the pillows in your house to build a castle with. Your living room has become a pillow castle fort.

During the second watch, Jane had dug around through your closet, before finding a blue hoodie you didn’t even remember you had and tying it around her shoulders. “You’re Anna,” she’d told you, giving you pigtails when she gave up on braids.

Now, she was asleep on the couch, drooling on her pillow.

Noah immediately turns off the TV. “You couldn’t have put on Shrek?”

You’re sitting next to him on the floor, finally giving into the urge to look at the news on your phone. You hadn’t risked it while Jane was awake. She was a nosy child.

You frown, “we need to tell the others.” Because this was really happening. Jane was alive and you didn’t know what to do with that. She needed. . .fuck-she needed school and parents and probably therapy if she remembered any of it. You were just eighteen. You had no idea what to do.

Noah’s responding frown mirrors yours. “What? Why!”

“She just came back from the dead,” you reply quietly. “She needs-fuck what are we going to tell your mom?”

His expression turns angry, brows furrowing. “Fuck her. She doesn’t deserve to know.”

“Noah,” you sigh, not wanting to argue with him because what was there to argue. His mom was a shitty parent. “Dan, Andy. . .they think we’re dead. They deserve to know after what happened. They deserve an explanation.”

He flinches.

“And besides-we’re in high school! What are we-what the hell are we going to do with her,” you say gently because you couldn’t keep her cooped up in your house. You had things like high school and maybe college if you could salvage this quarter. You didn’t have a job. “She needs parents. And school. And. . .” You throw your hand sup in the air. You had no clue what she needed. You weren’t a functioning adult. You didn’t know what kids need.

“She has me.” Noah hisses back.

You roll your eyes. “I know that-fuck Noah,” becuase he was getting angry with you when all you were trying to do was help. God, he could be so freaking dense sometimes. “She deserves a normal childhood. How the hell are we supposed to do that for her? Does she remember any of it?” You cross your arms over your chest and stare at your feet. The garish pink nail polish was still intact.

Didn’t people need birth certificates and stuff?

Lucas would know.

Lily could probably do her computer thing and help with that.

He falls silent, glaring at the blank TV screen.

Noah’s breathing is harsh and you wait patiently.

“I can drop out,” Noah finally says quietly. “Get a job. . .”

“I’m going to call Lily,” you reply. “We need groceries anyway.” Like hell were you leaving Jane for even a second. This time, you mean to keep your promise.

*

*

*

Jane bursts into tears when she sees all her friends grew up without her, eyes turning red as tears streamed down her eyes and she buried her face in Noah’s chest, refusing to budge. He rubs his hand comfortingly against her back, carrying her upstairs.

Even from the living room, still a mess, you can hear her sob upstairs.

“What the absolute fuck,” Lucas utters, taking a seat, resting his head in his hands.

“Explain,” Stacy urges, already unpacking the groceries you’d requested into your kitchen.

You do.

You go over the last couple of days, most of which you spent sleeping.

“I think it says a lot about how fucked our lives are that this is only like the second craziest thing to happen to us,” Andy mutters, pacing around the room. “I mean,” he says stopping near the kitchen island, “the whole town got brainwashed!”

“Does-does she remember,” Lily asks.

You shrug, “I. . .I don’t think so. Clearly she doesn’t know why we’re all older. Maybe it’ll come back to her?” You hope it doesn’t.

“So what are we going to do,” Lily says, looking around at everyone.

Dan speaks up, “Jane could have blocked out those memories. My therapist said that can happen with traumatic events.”

“That makes sense,” you find yourself saying, slumping in your seat. You think you could just finish high school at home. It’s not like your parents would know, or care. They’re not here. That way Noah can finish high school and you can look after Jane. But then what?

“Just so we’re all on the same page,” Ava asks rhetorically, “we’re just going to ignore the fact Noah tried to kill us?”

You flinch.

“Jesus fucking christ Ava,” Andy snaps, looking just as agitated as you’ve all felt for months.

“One crisis at a time,” Stacy complains, closing the cupboard door with a hard thunk, “I can only handle one crisis at a time.” Then she looks over at you, “are you-is. . .you can stay at my house if you need to.” No one suggests Noah and Jane going to their own house.

You shake your head.

At some point, you were going to hash things out with Noah, but it wasn’t exactly anger at Noah that you felt. It was hurt and the raw heart crushing betrayal. You know you hadn't been there for him when he needed you--for years-- but you thought, you wish he had just told you about Jane being Redfield.You would have helped, you would have done anything to help Noah and Jane and maybe no one would’ve needed to play are you scared at all. Fuck.

But no. You don’t feel scared at being here with him which was what Stacy was asking about. It hadn’t even crossed your mind even once.

But it feels too private to tell them that the three of you have been inseparable since the ruins. You’d spent last night curled up on the living room floor with him. But that knowledge was yours. You weren’t about to share that.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine. “She can’t stay in Westchester can she?” Because you’re tired and want someone else to tell you what to do for once.

“Probably not,” Lucas answers tightly, still looking freaked out, eye twitching.

“It’s not a trick or anything. . .” Andy glances around.

You shake your head. Slowly, a plan forms in your head. Your parents would pay for your college, you’d apply out of state and take the Marshall twins with you. Instead of a dorm, you’d get an apartment. It could work.

Somehow.

“Have your parents called,” Dan asks gently.

“No,” you wave off. They weren’t important. Jane was.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to explain this,” Andy asks.

You wince. “Sort of. . .I don’t know.” You put your hands in your head.

It's Ava who wraps her arm around your shoulders, “we’ll figure this out.”

“Thanks.”

*

*

*

It's a familiar type of awful that Noah’s mom doesn’t really care that he’s spent the last six months living at your house.

With a great deal of arguing at 2 in the morning while lying next to a sleeping Jane, you’d managed to convince Noah to finish high school. And you’d promptly switched to homeschooling.

Lily had come through with Jane’s paperwork, now in your bag as your friends drop you off at the nearest regional airport.

You hold Jane’s hand, the only thing keeping her from running off as she takes the sight of the airport in. She’s thrown countless fits about being cooped up. But it was too risky for her to be seen in Westchester, a small town where everyone knew she’d died. The most you could do was your backyard.

So of course you’d made up for it by letting her pick your college.

“Someplace warm and sunny,” Jane had shouted excitedly, mind going crazy with plans as your acceptance letters came in.

Months on, it’s way less awkward even if Ava and Lucas have settled on ignoring Noah.

Andy hugs you hard. “Call when you land!”

You snort, “duh.”

Lily smiles and adds, “I might visit for spring break.”

“That would be great,” you tell her, tightening your hold on Jane as something catches her attention.

She pivots to Noah, who had the backbone of a toothpick when it came to telling Jane no which is why she keeps getting to skip brushing her teeth in the morning which was gross and she hated you for trying to chase her down, “I want that stuffed animal. If you give me that narwhal, I’ll eat my veggies.”

“You’re eating your veggies anyway,” you reply back, dragging her along.

“You won’t have to watch frozen tomorrow.” She continues, targeting her brother ruthlessly.

Noah’s already fishing his wallet out.

“That’s what you said about the hair color,” you point out, opting to carry her when she goes limp. “Don’t you dare Noah.”

Ava grins at you, amused and unhelpful.

“It’s just a toy,” he replies.

You roll your eyes.

“You two are such parents,” Andy laughs.

“I hate you,” Jane huffs. “We’re not friends anymore.”

“She told you,” Ava snorts.

Jane beams. Then reaches for Noah, who takes her from your arms without complaint.

You hug Lily one last time, and then. . .you’re going through security.

“I get the window seat,” Jane declares once you get past TSA.

“Go for it,” you tell her, belatedly realizing it’s going to be hell if it turns out she doesn’t like planes.

She nods, satisfied.

*

*

*

Tampa is no less humid and hot and awful a month in then it was when you first got off the plane but Jane loves it and there’s a park next to the building your living in: a tiny cramped apartment with only one room which went to Jane obviously which you and Noah had originally planned for you and Jane to share but both of you had capitulated to Jane’s demands within the day. She deserved being spoiled.

The A/C in Ikea was a godsend.

Sleeping on the floor with the bare necessities was not it and with you starting school next week, it was time to take your meager savings and get some furniture.

“Remember,” Noah says, pulling up the list on his phone. It had started with him grocery shopping since he cooked and needing to make a grocery list to Noah just taking over figuring out how to make the money your parents sent and his own contribution from his new job work. “Sofa bed. Bed for Jane. Blankets. One lamp. And a mattress.”

“Weren't you complaining about only having one pan this morning,” you ask as Jane drags you along to the first showroom, practically bouncing with energy.

Noah shrugs. “I can make it work.”

“Buying an extra pan won't kill us,” you counter. “We can just use my credit card.” And not eat out for the rest of the month, you didn't add.

“Let's play hide and seek,” Jane says with excitement. “I'll seek.”

You exchange glances with Noah.

Tomorrow you had to go sign her up at school. You had to go over the story with her again. Just to make sure you didn't all get in trouble.

Jane covers her eyes. “One. Two. . .”

You look around the tiny space, thinking of where to hide. Between school and Jane you weren't sure when you could or even if you could get a part time job. Noah was working at a diner during the evenings. You had gotten your classes early in the morning so you could be home with Jane while he worked. The problem was finding the extra free time to work.

Ugh.

Being an adult was hard.

But how much of an adult could you be when your parents were paying your tuition?

You head for the tiny bathroom which has a neat looking toothbrush holder and isn’t that something you need to buy? There were so many little things like a bath mat and towels and a dish rack that were only just occurring to you that were sort of essentials and jeez you really had one foot in adulthood. You don’t even hide behind the curtain, worried that Jane won’t find you easily and freak out and there’s weirdos everywhere. It was your job to look after her now. Not that Noah had asked for your help, but it was a given.

“Eight. . .nine. . .” Jane’s little voice carries and you’re struck by a flood of emotions that has your eyes tearing up.

Noah steps into the bathroom next to you, “we need a cutting board,” he says so seriously you can’t help but snort.

“What,” he asks, shaking his head at you.

“Nothing.”

He tilts his head.

You shrug, “just thinking. I don’t know. I don’t feel very grown up. And I took all the dumb towels my parents stockpiled for granted.”

“We should’ve raided your house,” he agrees, the corner of his lips lifting, “purge style.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I never get why everyone jumps straight to murder. What does Ava always say? Redistribute the wealth, rob a bank.” You roll your eyes, scoffing, “murder.”

Noah snorts. “Pretty sure that’s Lucas. Ava’s more of a go straight to cutting people’s heads off.”

“Robespierre style,” you grin.

“Robes who?”

“Robespierre. From the french revolution.”

“I think that’s the class I must’ve ditched,” Noah admits.

You frown. “You could do community college,” because you had to corner him at some point. Noah was very good at avoiding subjects he didn’t want to talk about. “We could make it work. Do your G.E.’s”

Noah shrugs.

“Noah-” Because he said he wanted to go to culinary school and you get the urge to drop everything and buy a ranch in utah and live with Jane for the rest of your lives except Jane would hate that and grow up and leave and how are you going to afford spoiling her if you can’t get a decent job? Noah deserved to go for his dreams too.

None of you had to be defined by your incredibly shitty childhood.

Jane pops in, “found you!” She giggles in her Baby Yoda t-shirt and leggings, “you two are bad at this game! My turn!” Jane grabs Noah’s hand and drags him along to the next showroom that catches her eye, “remember,” she lectures you both, “no peeking,” before shooting off.

“What did you end up choosing for your major,” Noah asks, as you both fail to keep your eyes closed, looking over at the sofa section. It would be so freaking nice not to sleep on the carpet anymore.

“History,” you admit, “though I’m not sure it’ll stay like that. I don’t know exactly what I want to do after college. Or if I even like history enough to major in it. . .it just sounded fine at the time.” You had done well in APUSH. That had to mean something. But you had also liked your economics class. . .maybe you should do economics? “I really have no clue. Has it been ten seconds?”

“Probably,” Noah says with a smile, “nine, ten, coming to find you,” he calls out.

It’s a living room showroom, and yet Jane had managed to squeeze herself right behind a floor lamp and the TV stand. She’s a slip of a girl, but her red hair makes her easier to spot. Thank god.

“Let’s go pick out things for your room,” you offer, because you still have to go downstairs and find all the different pieces and then still go home and put them together. Thank god for uber. Oh shit, did this mean you had to get a car at some point? How do people buy cars?

“Okay,” Jane nods, immediately taking off, and she has you and Noah speed walking after her, on the border of a full out run. It was hard to be annoyed when you were still so happy to wake up in a world where Jane was alive and here and who cares that it took three hours to get her to stand still long enough to comb her hair and putting her to bed was a long drawn out affair of a bedtime story and a snack and needing to be tucked in and checking on all her toys and deciding she needed a glass of water next to her just in case she woke up thirsty.

It was worth it.

You liked not living alone.

You liked not being alone.

*

*

*

You weren't sure who was more exhausted as you finished washing the dishes. Jane was sleeping, thank god. The nice thing about Florida was it was fall and it was still warm enough to spend the evening at the park so Jane could tire herself out while you read fifty pages of your history and sociology textbook. It was what all the other moms did and you winced when Jane asked to join the soccer team that practiced at the park by your building because you didn't have the money and you could only hope she didn't ask Noah because he came home tired enough but for Jane he'd take more shifts.

There was laundry you didn't want to do and a quiz in english which was a nice class even if everyone was half asleep at 7:30 in the morning because your professor was somehow awake enough to engage and rant about short stories that thankfully weren't the same ten dead old white men you'd read in high school but actual people alive today whose english you could understand. It's night, so you don't bother drying the dishes before turning off the light. Noah had brought food which showed how tired he was. Yesterday's leftovers had saved you from attempting anything because you sucked in the kitchen as your poor microwave could attest: aluminum foil and microwaves don't mix.

Noah’s already asleep when you slide into bed next to him. You can still smell the scent of oil and grease on his skin even as you stay decidedly on your side of the bed.

It's mid september in Tampa and it's still warm and it doesn't stop you at all from curling up with a blanket.

The window panes are cracked open letting in the soft moonlight and you lay in bed, brain melted from class and reading, and look at Noah's profile and how much lighter he looked compared to a year ago. The lines around his mouth from frowning had eased; Jane teasing out a side of him that had previously shriveled up.

It's done him good to get away from his mom. To have his sister. You just wish you could do more for him.

Like he was doing for you and Jane.

You drift off to sleep. . .

“Move over,” a small voice asks, and your eyes crack open to the dark of the room and Jane a hair's breadth away with wide scared eyes, a pillow hugged to her chest. Her voice is raw, as if she'd been crying.

You move over, brain sleep addled, to make room for her.

She slips in besides you, immediately curling up in your chest the way she does when she decides she's done walking for the day: the way she runs up to Noah when he gets home from work.

“Did you have a bad dream,” you mumble, not wanting to wake up her brother.

“I don't know.” Jane admits, “I just don't want to sleep alone.”

“I thought you wanted your own room,” you tease, a little more awake now.

“I do,” she cries out loudly in the dark of the night.

You can just imagine her pouting even if you can't see her, your eyes falling shut again. “Okay. You can sleep over tonight.”

“Yay,” she whispers back. “We should draw a mustache on Noah.”

You snort, “too late. He hasn't bothered shaving in like two days.” It was a good look on him: stubble. You'd teased him ruthlessly, almost choking on your water when he'd gone pink.

Jane giggles.

“Go to sleep,” you tell her. “You have school.”

“So do you.”

“Sleep.”

“Tell me a bedtime story.”

“Jane,” you whine, rolling over away from her, because she sure wasn't going to stop. “Sleep.”

*

*

*

“Where the fuck are my shoes,” Noah says, as he stumbles around trying to find his things.

You should've folded the laundry last night. Instead, it was a pile on the floor, clean, but a mess. You had parent teacher conferences today, and of course you were rushing at the last minute. Between finishing a paper for sociology and ditching class because of the conference and it's not like your statistics professor took roll call, you were still in a towel, freshly showered.

“Check the hall closet. I told Jane to clean last night and I'm like one hundred percent sure she just stuffs everything in that closet. Dan's right, we're fucking her up by spoiling her too much.” You search the pile of clothes for a nice dress. Was that right for a parent teacher conference? You were 18, what did you know? Besides, you were like guardian adjacent. Not a parent.

“Okay,” Noah replies when you hear the door open and why can't you find any clean underwear, you just did laundry this is insane and you have like five minutes to leave or you will be late, “but why'd she only put away one shoe?”

“Don't goblins only steal left shoes or something,” you reply, finding clean underwear but giving up on the bra. You'd go with a blue and white plaid dress. It wasn't too revealing for school even if it was one of those back of the closet dresses you never actually wore.

You slip your underwear on under the towel as Noah reappears in jeans and a t- shirt, freshly shaved. “What if they ask too many questions?”

“They won't,” you wave off. “And if they do we can just lie.”

“You're a bad liar,” Noah teases, rifling around in the kitchen.

You toss the towel aside, trying incredibly hard to act cool and calm when you weren't anything but, as you go to pull the dress over your head. It's not like you were flashing him. You sleep next to Noah every night.

But then why did you feel so flustered right then. “Am not!” You squawk indignantly, turning over to look at him as your dress goes over your head and your boobs are no longer hanging out for the world to see (there was a point to curtains after all).

Noah goes bright pink when he realizes your half naked in the living room, as if he hasn't slept next to you for close to a year now but then again, you used to sleep in an old shirt and underwear and now you've got matching pjs because Noah and yeah you should probably do something about that like you had wanted to since the party ages ago now but there had been Redfield and Noah admitting he was in a terrible headspace and it wasn't the time and now. . .you brush the thought aside for now. You roll your eyes (because your cool and calm even if your heart’s beating erratically) and grab your purse, before joking, “so are you going to get a haircut or are you going to do the man bun thing.”

Noah groans, “Jane told me I looked like homeless dog.”

“Ouch,” You laugh, “when she say that?”

“She woke me up again last night but I got her to go to her bed this time.” He admits as you walk to Jane’s school.

“Again?” Fuck maybe she was having nightmares after all. “It has to be nightmares, but. . .” you trail off.

“I don't know,” Noah shrugs, “she says she doesn't remember. Just wakes up. But like why else would she keep waking up if it's not nightmares,” he frowns.

“Do you think they could be,” you purse your lips before continuing not wanting to be the one to bring it up but you sort of had too, “you think it's redfield related.”

“I really don't know,” he says, looking over at you with a sad smile.

Smiling softly, you squeeze his hand as you wait for the white pedestrian sign, “hey, she's got us. She'll be fine.”

Which makes you think about how Andy was right. You were such a mom. Had you mom-zoned yourself? That was good, you'd have to text that to Andy later.

Then you sigh, realizing that if you had a nightmare back then, your parents wouldn't have even been home for you to wake up. There had been weeks spent at Pine Springs and driving over to some niche science conference in Rochester or over to New Haven for a lecture.

“What,” Noah asks, intertwining your fingers with his as you cross the street.

“Just realizing how shitty my parents were,” you offer with a sad smile. What could you do about it now? You'd grown up.

“Just now,” Noah quips with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

Jane’s teacher, an older black woman who's style leans close to Lily's own preppy academic choices, looks at you both skeptically. “You’re here for Jane Marshall's conference?”

Both you and Noah nod.

She doesn't look reassured.

You bump Noah's knee with yours, hoping he'll say something to clear things up. Neither of you looked old enough to be her parents. You had a serious case of baby face.

“Uh,” he says, still an eighteen year old who's spent most of his life bowing down to teachers authority. You understood, still feeling strange going to the bathroom during lecture without asking for permission. “I'm Jane’s brother.”

You nudge him again when it's clear he's done taking.

“Noah,” he manages.

You roll your eyes. “We’re her guardians,” you had gone over the story hundreds of times, “their parents passed,” you look down at you lap trying to look sad, “a few months ago.”

“Oh,” Jane’s teacher, Miss Sanders, says sympathetically. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah well,” Noah trails off.

“Well Jane is a very outgoing girl,” Miss Sanders says, launching into her talk, “she's made lots of friends though sometimes getting her to be quiet during class time can be a challenge. She's at her grade level for reading and math. She does need more practice with writing longer sentences and,” she shuffles papers around, flipping through a red folder, before taking out some childish drawings. “These had me worried but in light of the loss she is going through, I think it's understandable.”

Each drawing is a variation of a theme: huge black blobs make up most of the page, with occasional stick drawings differentiated by hair color. Jane is obviously the girl with the red hair and triangle body. Redfield, she remembered something then.

Could it be subconscious?

You feel the blood leave your face as you look over at Noah. He looks just as shaken as you.

“It's normal for children going through the loss of a loved one, especially parents,” Miss Sanders tries, “to work through it in drawing and writing. But we could always let her talk to the school psychologist. Mrs. Hernandez is a wonderful child therapist.”

“Do you think it would help,” you ask, wondering if it was a good idea when Jane’s actual problem was of the supernatural variety. Maybe they would just assume that was her imagination, or her way of explaining away a loss.

“It couldn't hurt.”

You look over at Noah, slipping your hand into his, giving him an encouraging squeeze in his palm. It was his sister. It should be his call.

He pulls his hand out of yours, straightening up in the chair. “Yeah. That could be good.”

“Okay. I'll let Mrs. Hernandez know. That and make sure Jane’s reading books for AR. Her goal this year should 40 points if she wants to be part of the end of the year celebration.”

“I'll figure out where the library is,” you nod, “I'm sure she can find books while I study.”

“Sounds perfect. Any other questions.”

You look at Noah who shakes his head. He was starting to need a haircut. Even if you did like the way he looked with his hair loose.

“Alright then. It was lovely to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.”

“Oh,” heat builds up in your cheeks.

“We're not-”

“I'm not-,” you stammer, “I'm just a family friend.”

“Oh,” Miss Sander says, “I'm-sorry for assuming.”

“It's fine,” you manage, starting to leave. “Thank you. It was good to meet you.” You shake her hand, wanting to die inside.

“Nice to meet you as well,” she shakes Noah's hand and then you can finally leave.

You both hurry out the classroom, out the school.

“So that was,” Noah says, raising a brow.

“awful,” you finish. “But there were no red flags and we got free therapy out of it.”

Noah laughs, “I think we probably all need some therapy.”

“Rewatching arrested development isn't cutting it anymore,” you grin.

“I do feel like Gob most days.”

“Good,” you laugh.

“Really?”

“I don't trust people who identify with Michael. No self awareness.”

Noah laughs, “they are all horrible people.” His face becomes drawn, as he tucks loose strands of hair behind his ears. “How much do you think she remembers?”

You shrug, placing your hand on his arm. “I think it's probably bits and pieces. She did spend years and...she doesn't have nightmares? That's a good sign right? It's been months, she's not some creepy horror movie child?”

“Of course not,” he nods, looking down at you, with a frown. “She's fine. Jane's good.”

You smile shakily. “We're doing amazing. And she's happy if she hasn't stopped watching disney vlogs. No clue how we're going to swing that one if she asks.”

Noah matches you’re unsure smile, “take her to those rich people parks and call it disney.”

You snort. “It's Jane. That won't fool her.”

“It's Florida. We can just go to the beach.” He says with a shrug. “It'll be just as good.”

“Aren't there alligators though?”

Noah laughs at your expense. “Those are in the lakes and rivers.”

“Shut up. Want to go for pizza before you go to work?”

“Let's go get Indian food actually. There's this place I've been meaning to try but Jane’s-”

“Picky as fuck,” you say pointedly. “Like you used to be.”

Noah blushes. “Okay so my mom just cooked like kraft mac and cheese. That wasn't my fault.”

“And those pizza bites! I loved those,” you add, thinking back on all the sleepovers at their house as a kid. “I think when Jane came over was the only time I'd get to use peanut butter.” Your parents weren't around, but your nanny was philippina, you ate spice before kids discovered hot cheetos were delicious.

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “We should probably get a car at some point.”

“Face it bro, we're broke. I keep wanting to tell you to get a haircut but we're broke.”

Noah raises a brow. “Fuck off. I look like post-Beatles George Harrison.”

“You wish you looked like George Harrison,” you tease.

The food was amazing. Lunch indian buffets were where it was at. And since you don't have a class right after, you offer to walk Noah to work, “I've got to walk off the food baby,” you tell him, before you head back to pick Jane up.

Noah laughs, “The malai kofta was just too good.”

“I should've stopped at three plates but buffets always make me think it's a food contest,” you admit. “My nanny would take me to this seafood buffet with her family around lunar new year and we’d spend all day there to try and eat our money's worth.” It had been your favorite holiday as a child, after your parents had decided you were old enough to be left behind, only a handful of years after they decided you were old enough to bring along with them, and you hadn't seen them even at christmas.

“Damn,” Noah says with an easy smile, “at least I had good times with my parents.” His smile is so fragile. That just means it hurt him more when things fell apart.

“I had nice times too. . .with your family.”

Noah cackles.

You cross the street to the diner he works at next to a retirement complex with what you think are the best waterfront views next to the hotels you can't afford.

It's strange.

Your entire life, Noah has been this huge part of it and you've always lived in a tiny town so you knew everyone he did and knew what he got up to just by living near him in a town of like 500 people or what felt like such a small amount, your elementary school only had one class for each grade but now you hug Noah goodbye even though he always tenses against you, as though he's unused to the physical affection and that just makes you hold him tighter, then he's heading inside and greeting people you probably will never know and he's having this whole part of his life your not a part of and one day he's going to go on and live his life without you and it hurts: watching him laugh with some waitress that's tall blonde and beautiful in a way you've never been.

It hurts but you suck it up and go pick Jane up from school.

“Don’t worry,” your friend says, holding your hand once she realizes you've been standing at the water's edge. It's warmer than you'd imagined as it laps at your bare feet.

Jane has not stopped smiling since you'd bought her a bathing suit at Target: a pink one piece with sloths. You'd been more nervous, not knowing how to swim. You also felt every single bite of pasta you'd had last night in your black bikini.

Damn Noah for being so good at cooking.

“I've got you,” Jane says, leading you out further into the water, over to where Noah's out, up to his waist and you're pretty see it's deeper than Jane is taller, but if Jane can do it-a wave, a massive looking wave comes crashing towards you both.

You don't hesitate to run away.

Noah points and laughs.

You flip him off once the wave passes, leaving your hair wet.

Jane grins. “It's okay. I won't let you drown.” She pulls you back out again, a perfectly happy water baby. She always had been fearless. And unlike you, as the water deepens, she starts to swim alongside you.

“See,” she laughs, “it's easy.” Then she pops down under.

You make it to Noah, figuring the water wasn't that crazy. No tsunami like waves to pull you out to sea and drown you.

Jane comes up for air, “I'm Jaws,” she yells at Noah, tackling his side.

“Ooof,” he says, exaggerating, “oh no, a shark, I'm. . .dead dying. . .”

Jane giggles.

“Do not,” you warn her. “I'm barely here as is.”

Noah rolls his eyes and you have a feeling there about to roast you: both of them.

“It's just a little water,” he teases.

“It's not even that deep,” Jane adds. “It's the beach!” She pops back down under the water as another wave rolls towards you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, tensing, as the wave soaks what's left of your dry hair, splashing salty water into your mouth.

Jane pops her head back up, strawberry hair plastered to her head, smiling so wide. It's November and it's still warm enough to go to the beach. Even the rain here isn't cold that way it was back home.

The world was so much bigger than Westchester.

Noah reaches his hand out to yours. You take it easily, stepping closer to him, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

He had the right idea, now looking more like the fifth beatle than a shaggy haired hippie. Less to deal with at the beach.

“You okay,” he smirks.

“Shut up. I can't swim. You know that.” You'd complained about it a hundred times as they both forced you off the pile of towels where you had planned to read through your notes. Studying, it was gross.

“You're,” Noah rolls his eyes, “it's like three feet. You're not going to drown.”

“What if,” you counter, “I trip and swallow water and drown.”

“That's not going to happen. What you can't stand up?”

“Don't,” you warn.

He smirks, “it's because you're short.”

“Asshole,” you say, smacking his bare chest. Nothing you haven't seen, you tell yourself. Act normal, you reminded yourself.

“It is!” Noah crouches down a couple inches to your height.

You roll your eyes-

-and laugh when Jane launches herself onto her brother's back.

“I'm an orca!”

Noah lets go of your hand to regain his balance. “Wow there shamu.”

Jane frowns. “Sea world is evil. Ava and I watched Blackfish.”

You vaguely remember some orca documentary that you had mostly slept through. Taking care of Jane was hard and you had fallen asleep in those early weeks whenever you got the chance.

“No seaworld then,” you shrug.

“But I do wanna go to Disneyworld. I wanna go on the star wars ride!”

“You don't even watch Star Wars,” Noah points out.

“I would if we went to Disneyworld. My birthday is coming up.”

“No it's not,” you frown. They were April babies.

“I think you mean my birthday,” Noah says playfully.”

“I was born first,” Jane yells.

“So, I'm taller.”

You roll your eyes, sinking down to your neck. The water was nice. “You better throw yourself into the water if I start drowning,” you warn Noah.

“Yeah yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I'm not going to let you drown.”

Jane nods in agreement, “I'll kick him if he does.”

You laugh, happy to spend the days with the Marshall twins.

Bells don't ring, but the whole class knows when class is over, shoving their papers away into bags as soon as there's a minute left.

You leave English happily enough. It was a fun class, with plenty of movies and conversation that you were able to make friends in, unlike other lecture heavy classes where you had five minutes before class to talk during.

Sasha and Kevin both walk with you out of the lecture hall. “Have you started studying for the midterm,” Sasha asks, “I really don't want to write two in class essays. Multiple choice is where it's at.”

“I'd rather have an in class essay,” Kevin says, “and Professor Laux said it's just one. But he'd give us two prompts.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I love english I just hate the writing part. Or rather the long essays.”

“At least your not a computer science major,” Sasha counters, “physics is so much worse.”

“Not as bad as o chem.”

“O chem is not that bad,” Sasha counters.

You shrug, “art history major,” you grin smugly.

Kevin shakes his head, “just wait until you have to find a job.”

“Grad school. Both my parents love that shit. They'd help me pay for it.” They both had Ph.Ds.

“I wish my parents helped me pay for school,” Sasha complains again, “they are such hard asses about school but they want me to pay for everything, and live at home-can you imagine how many house parties I've missed to work at the movie theater.”

“Speaking of house parties,” Kevin pushes his glasses up his broad nose, “we're throwing this pre thanksgiving bash at my place. Beer. Snacks. Weed.”

“Shouldn't you be studying for midterms,” you ask, shaking your head. You also hadn't figured out what you were doing for the holiday. You had Jane and Noah now. It had to be special.

“Pfft. I will,” Kevin says. “You're only twenty once am I right?”

Sasha shakes her head. “Okay. But I'm stealing some weed.”

“You in?” They both look at you.

Noah's off Monday and Wednesday, when you get out too late to go pick up Jane. You can't leave her by herself, not that you would want to. You were looking forward to going to waste time at the mall and buy snacks at target: your usual Friday night.

You shake your head, “Can't. I've got Jane on the weekends. Babysitters are expensive.”

“Just tell your parents to look after your sister,” Kevin says petulantly.

You hadn't really explained things. It was complicated. Redfield had really messed up your life. Jane should be your age and going to house parties with you. But you'd have her alive in any shape or form so long as you got to see her. “Umm, actually,” you decide to explain a little, the practiced version, “her parents died a few months ago. They were-they were really close family friends and practically raised me so,” you trail off, thinking about how exactly to explain Noah. He was your best friend, a childhood friend, and. . .that was it.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah-”

“Well, if you're even able to figure it out,” Kevin says, “hit me up.”

You wave them goodbye and rush to your next class.

*

*

*

Noah's hair is still damp as he lays down on his side of the bed.

You were still going over your art history notes, wanting to go over the dates of the list of paintings you'd have to identify on tomorrow's quiz. The names were easy since styles even within art movements varied so much. It was a little harder in regulated art worlds: the buddhists of southeast asia didn't go outside their geometric ratios.

“You've been studying all day,” Noah says with a yawn. He no longer smelled like burnt oil.

“Yeah, I have a quiz.” You're sitting cross legged on your side of the bed. “It's on art identification.”

“That's what googles for,” he snarks back.

It was past midnight. Jane had been asleep for three hours.

“Smart ass.” You shut your notebook. The numbers had started swimming in your eyes a while ago. Nothing more was going to stick in your brain.

You turn off the light on your side.

“You're the smart one,” Noah laughs, “I'm just an asshole.”

“Oh,” you smile in the dark, highly aware of his body laying next to you, carefully keeping your leg from brushing against his skin. “You're self aware too!”

“Dick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

You lay in silence, listening to the sounds outside your windows, the cars passing by even at this hour, Noah breathing next to you. It was soothing, having people you loved with you. It wasn't lonely being home all the time.

Noah shifts onto his side: facing you.

You stare up at the ceiling, black from the curtains pulled right even as the window let the breeze in. It had been raining the past few days, but the cold days don't hold a candle to Westchester this time of year.

“Thank you.”

“For what,” you ask, smiling freely.

“What do you mean,” he pitches his voice higher, “for what? For everything.”

You giggle. “I haven't done much.”

Noah's tone is dead serious the next time he speaks. “You didn't have to help . . .with Jane. I don't know how I would've made it work without you, so yeah. Thank you. I didn't even ask-I wouldn't have asked you to give up college and partying-”

You have to stop him right there. “I didn't give shit up Noah.” He could be so dumb sometimes. If he had just told you Jane was Redfield, you would've helped him from day one to save her. But there was no point in bringing that up: just more salt in the wound. “And you didn't have to ask me: I wasn't just going to let you flounder alone. I wanted to-I wanted to be with you and Jane. That was never a question.” Heat flares up in the skin of your cheeks and nose as you smile, before you turn onto your side, looking over at Noah in the dark.

You can't really see him at all.

Thank fuck.

It's bad enough that you feel so flustered you might explode from the emotions swirling about in your chest. You don't know what to do about Noah, about your feelings for him.

Months ago, you would've just bitten the bullet and kissed him, but he'd also opened up about not feeling ready at all about relationships and you will not fuck things up for either of you. It had been easy with Connor when all the lights were green as he was clearly into you and responded right back.

It had been light and a way to not think about the terror of your day to day life for a few moments.

But it wasn't Connor you thought about so much your skin got all hot as you looked out the window during lecture.

You swallow thickly, squashing those feelings into some back corner of your mind.

“Thank you though, I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Don't be dumb. It's getting rid of me that'll be hard.” You could admit now, “Now that I know what it's like to have people in the house to kill spiders, I'm never leaving,” you felt lonely in your childhood house all through high school.

“I don't think Jane would let you leave.” Noah laughs.

“True,” you sigh. “it's nice not to come home to an empty house.”

“Our childhoods were so messed up,” he replies softly.

“It's like the gift that never stops giving. But hey, who cares. I have you two and my parents monthly deposits-and FAFSA!” You laugh, because what else could you do, wallow in self deprecating angst like Noah? You weren't sure you could beat him at his own game. “As far as I'm concerned, you're my family now. . .both of you.”

“When did you become a walking talking greeting card?”

“Asshole.”

Noah laughs.

It's a sound you love. For so long, it had been so rare. It warms you up, blots out all the horrible shit you've gone through and makes everything okay.

You fall asleep smiling.

*

*

*

Sasha settles in your ikea bland table with her bag full of notebooks and textbooks. “I wish I had my own place.”

Next week was finals.

Next week was going to kick your ass.

Matthew looks up from his calculus solutions manual for the first time in an hour, “it really depends on the roommates, mine eat all my snacks.”

“Hide them in your room,” you suggest, opening your computer up to the study guide the TA had sent out last week. “With your underwear or something.”

Jane giggles as she watches spongebob on the TV. Fourth graders had it easy. The upcoming winter break meant Jane was practically doing arts and crafts all week.

You open up a notebook to a fresh page as you write down all the key items from the study guide, underlining key items. You wanted to knock the art essays out of the park. It wasn't as easy to bullshit those as it was to make up themes for an english paper.

Fuck, you were already pretty much done with a semester at college.

Jane had almost been back for over a year.

“Can I see your midterm,” Sasha asks, “I want to see what comments you got.”

You fish it out from your binder. “Go for it.”

Matthew looks up from his pages worth of calculus, “I hate math. I should've just done an anthropology major.”

“Sucks to be an overachiever,” you snark, annotating your notes with a pink gel pen. You had never cared to study much in high school, but a major you actually cared for made all the difference in the world. You wanted museums and van goghs and the asmr of cleaning paintings like in youtube videos.

“I didn't think double majoring would be like this,” Matthew sighs. “I haven't slept in three years.”

Sasha shakes her head, “just go for the one you like the most.”

“So I can be unemployed with tons of student debt?”

“Or get that grant money,” you wiggle your eyebrows. It was what your parents were up to.

“That would mean a PhD,” he complains, but doesn't look completely turned off by the idea. “And I could put off figuring my life out for another four years. . .”

Sasha laughs, flipping through flash cards with a bunch of arrows and equations written on them. Physics.

Intro to Biology was so much easier. You practically only had to remember high school biology and read through the study guide a few times. You could remember the difference between eukaryotic cells and prokaryotic cells.

Sasha suggests ordering Pizza hut as Jane starts asking for food and you feel like yeah, a study break sounds good.

“Four hours is the max people can concentrate for,” Matthew says, as he eats a third slice of pizza.

“So we're done for the day,” Sasha asks, getting up to stretch, and joining Jane on the couch. She'd been an angel, sort of, content to just watch tv all afternoon as you studied. Sure, she'd raised the volumes to movie theater standards every half an hour, but other than that-an angel.

“If you're good for the day.” You were nervous. You didn't want to be a C student anymore. You wanted to try. Surely you had inherited some of your parents brain cells.

“I am,” Sasha admits. “I've been studying every day for four hours. My brain has melted.”

“Honestly,” Matthew says, “I just started studying. The semester seemed so long.”

“Same though bro,” You grin. “All the tests and quizzes went right out of my mind as soon as I was done.”

Sasha shakes her head. “Well, I'm taking a slice for the road. See you around.” She leaves.

Jane joins you and Matthew at the table, licking the pizza grease off her fingers. “I like Noah's pizza better.”

You wince. A cook you were not. “Well, he's working.”

“I know.”

“Noah?” Matthew says, clearly a question.

“My brother,” Jane says flippantly. “They sleep together.”

You're face burns; you want the earth to swallow you whole right then and there. “We live together,” you explain to Matthew who looks more confused. “Jane go watch TV.”

She sends an annoyed look at you, before running off.

“Noah's her brother. They're family friends-” you explain lamely.

“You don't have to explain anything to me,” Matthew says sweetly. “It's your business.”

“Yeah,” you push your hair behind your ears, feeling out of whack. Matthew was cute, but it wasn't like you wanted to jump his bones. He made sociology bearable. “Can you look over my paper? I'm still not sure I got the sources incorporated right-”

“Yeah. Sure. I didn't know sociology 101 would include writing research papers.”

“Everything was going good until I remembered we had that paper due,” Matthew agrees.

You study for another hour, mostly giving each other feedback on your research paper. “It would've helped if he'd given us examples,” you mutter.

“Right.”

Jane tugs on your arm. “Come play with me,” ignoring your classmate entirely.

“Yeah. Sure,” you smile tiredly. You were at your study limit. “Want to call it a night,” you ask Matthew who nods and grabs his things.

Jane scrutinizes him the entire time. She puts her hands on top of the empty pizza box.

“I don't like him,” she pouts, “He's boring. Who studies?”

“Boring college students,” you laugh. “He's fine. We have sociology together. We're also taking english literature pre 1800s together next semester. It was that or latin literature which sounds really pretentious.”

Jane giggles. “Let's play uno!”

“Okay, but just one game. You still have to take a shower before bed.”

“I don't want to take a shower,” Jane protests, “I want to be a horrible reeking troll! Rawr!” She chases you around the living room.

You burst out laughing, letting her tackle you to the floor. It was easy to forget how stressed out you were about finals when you had Jane.

*

*

*

You take deep breaths as you scramble to find your sneakers. It got cold in lecture halls.

Noah makes coffee, “you're going to do fine.”

“I'm going to fail and flunk out of university and my parents are going to hate me forever and i'll never get a job and take Jane to disney world,” you groan, slumping at the counter with a hand on your forehead. You should've studied all night. Why had you bothered going to sleep?

Noah pours you a tumbler full of coffee, with the hazelnut creamer that basically turned the coffee into a hot chocolate, “you've been studying all week. You might not be Lucas levels of 110% on a rest but you're going to do great. I know it,” he says with a genuine smile.

You blush. “I hope all the studying has worked. I've never tried this hard in school.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods with a soft smile. “High school sucked.”

“It did.” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping to steady your nerves.

He looks good in the morning light, before it's too hot to exist. Winter in florida meant temperatures in the low 70s, laughably temperate. Noah's wearing the same boxers he'd gone to sleep in, with a soft worn in grey t-shirt, and a serious case of bed head as his hair curls around his ears in the most adorable mop top.

If you didn't have finals to head to, this would be the perfect morning.

“You're going to do amazing sweetie,” Noah chuckles in the dickish way of his.

You snort, shaking your head. “Fuck yeah I will.”

“That's the spirit.”

You shove your feet into your beat up vans, grab your backpack. “See you later,” you smile at Noah.

“Yeah, good luck,” he says, putting his mug of coffee down on the counter and leaning down. One second he's smiling down at you, and in the next one he's pressing his lips against yours.

Holy fuck.

Your eyes widen.

Was this really happening, or were you just that tired.

“Shit,” Noah stammers, pulling away quickly. “I-”

You raise a brow, “What-”

“It was an accident. Sorry.” Noah steps back, running a hand through his hair, pink up to the tips of his ears.

You feel a bit like a deflated balloon. “What even was that?” Because what it seemed like was like he'd kissed you but-how do you accidentally kiss someone. No-this was way too much for you to dea with at the moment.

“I just-nothing. Just forget it,” Noah says. “I'm going back to sleep.”

“See you later,” you try, feeling all messed up. Had he wanted to kiss you? Was this you messing up for the both of you?

You wish you could call Lily right now, but you had a final to get to.

*

*

*

It's Christmas day, technically.

Jane's been asleep for hours and Noah's taking a bite out of the cookies laid out for Santa as you watch it's a wonderful life trying to puzzle out how this was a Christmas classic. It was boring.

Things had been so awkward with Noah as of late, as you both danced around the kiss, that you had let Jane talk you into a sleepover in her room almost every night. There was no way you could lay there next to Noah and not think yourself to death. Absolutely no way.

You had wrapped up her gifts in baby yoda christmas themed wrapping paper: an assortment of more clothes because Jane really didn't have much considering she had basically popped into life a year ago, random books you remembered liking in elementary and middle school, and toys that you had definitely splurged on including a two hundred dollar set of legos that you looked forward to building with her. It had been hard to keep it secret from her when you all spent the majority of your time together. Stacey had sent a big care package for all of you. Lily had sent gifts through the post office. Lucas’ contribution was a few amazon packages.

All your friends had sent something.

It was touching, considering the distance. You couldn't wait to see them again-Ava wanted to visit in the summer.

You flip the channel, deciding Full House reruns were better.

“Not Full House,” Noah groans, turning the kitchen light off.

“Let me guess. You're a Die Hard fan?”

“Best christmas movie,” he grins.

You shake your head. He could be such a guy. And just like that, the tension between you two dissipates. “No way. The Grinch is the best. The 2001 one anyway.”

You click the side table lamp off.

Noah sits down next to you as you flick through the channels, trying to find something to watch. “Bob's burgers?”

“Sounds good.”

It's dark. The volume’s on low. You're all curled up in bed, and Noah's not being weird-it helps that you're trying to be chill about it.

“How did your finals go?”

“Well I didn't flunk out,” you shrug. “I got a C in sociology but a B in everything else.” It was fine. It's not like you were a sociology major.

“I told you you'd do good.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, laying down entirely, ignoring the tv. “I just figured all the studying would...I don't know, mean I'd get straight As?”

“It's college-isn't it supposed to be like super hard or whatever,” Noah says with a shrug.

“I guess.” You just wished you were that kind of student. Even seeing how hard the effort was on Lucas’ mental health, maybe your parents might visit if you did get straight As. It was dumb. “I just figured my parents might pay attention if I did get all As.”

“Fuck your parents,” he says easily.

You snort. “Shut up. They pay like half the rent.”

“The least they could do.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Did you ever want to go to college? You know like when we had to write colleges letters in fifth grade, or was it sixth?”

“Naw. School was never my thing,” Noah says in the quiet of the night.

You smile softly, tilting your head so you're looking at him, the moonlight illuminating the angles of his jaw as it poured in through the windows. “Then it was always culinary school for you?”

He shrugs. “Yeah-I mean,” he closes his eyes, thinking silently. “I'm a little too dumb for school. I could never get the whole trig thing or what Shakespeare was saying let alone the subtext.”

You sit up. “Shut up,” you state, slapping his bicep lightly. “Don't say that shit.”

“It's true.”

You shift, closer to his side of the bed, closer to him still lying there staring up at the ceiling, not meeting your searching gaze. “You're not dumb. Noah-you are not dumb. You're so fucking smart-who remembered to buy toilet paper and figured out how to rent an apartment?”

“You can google that shit,” he says, covering his face with his hand, embarrassed.

“And cooking takes skill. Maybe it's not mensa harvard type smarts, but it's not nothing!” You just wanted him to see himself the way you did. You're sitting up on your knees now, as his expressive wide eyes meet yours, a dark romantic brown you could drown in, staring down at him. “Say it! Say you're smart and clever and amazing!”

“I'm not saying that,” he laughs off.

“Say, I'm fucking smart and I can do anything,” you repeat, nudging his chest.

Noah smiles and it does all sorts of things to you, makes your pulse race as heat winds its way all hot under your skin, all hot and bothered and feeling giddy like a dumbass and you never meet someone who felt like home the way it is with Noah. “I'm fucking smart,” he says quietly, rolling his eyes, “and I can do anything.”

“We're going to have to work on that,” you laugh, belatedly realizing you're almost on top of him. Well, you are on top of him, you're knees are by his waist, but you're leaning over him and fuck you want him. The way he's laying there under you, looking like the sun shines out of your ass, it's thrilling.

“We will,” Noah says, wiggling his brows in a way that has you laughing into his chest.

Then you're looking up at him, unable to catch your breath, because you can't stop laughing and it's not like you're particularly comedic but-fuck it, you lean up and kiss him. It's what you've been itching to do since the party at-fuck, you don't even remember, but you remember finding him there and realizing he's what you had been missing, the reason you didn't feel like being there until you sat by the pool with him.

He's Noah and you're you and there's not a version of you that doesn't love him to bits; there's not a version of you that doesn't go with him to face the monster and rescue Dan and would give your life for him and Jane. Always. Because he's Noah-

You lean down and kiss him, trying to communicate the depth of this feeling.

It wasn't some crush.

Or some drunken affair at a house party.

You kiss his lips with a dizzying fever that burns hot under your skin as desire builds in the pit of your stomach: a bundle of nerves sparking to life. And he kisses you back, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb rubbing circles into your skin.

You tremble under his gentle touch, afraid that this too would disappear in your hands. You were so used to losing: to getting nothing.

Noah stares up wide eyed at you when you pull away.

You bite your bottom lip.

“I-,” he stutters.

“I've really been wanting to do that for a long time,” you confess.

“Me too.”

You swallow thickly at his confession. “Then it wasn't...it wasn't an accident,” you ask carefully.

Noah shakes his head once. “No. That-I just, I didn't want to mess up something good just because I wanted something more.” He looks so heartbroken in that second-

“Noah,” you sigh gently. “I was surprised and thinking about school but I've-I would've kissed you then if my head hadn't been so far up my own ass.”

He snorts, the line of his shoulders relaxing under your hands. “After what happened- I was lucky that you even wanted to talk to me at all. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me and then I thought it was just for Jane,” Noah admits painfully.

“I've always loved you.” You tell him. “And I'm going to keep telling you until it gets through that thick skull of yours.”

Noah chuckles.

“So are we on the same page?”

He rakishly raises a brow with a shit eating grin on his lips, “I don't know, are you gonna kiss me again?”

You vow to wipe that look off his face as you do more than press your lips hungrily against his, your hands against his chest as you shift once more, situating yourself and getting comfortable straddling his waist with your legs. You press hard kisses to his mouth as Noah kisses you back with the same fervor; you nibble on his bottom lip, bringing it between your teeth.

It's an exercise in breathlessness, a mexican stand-off in which both sides are ready and happy to pull the trigger because of the rush of blood to your head as you taste him on your lips. It's intoxicating the way in which he kisses your mouth and you forget the need to breathe.

But you, smiling against the skin of his jaw as you catch your breath. His chest rises and falls under your hands as he laughs giddily, feeling as crazy as you do.

It's not that epic romeo and juliet love that burns and destroys, but the fullness in your heart as you lay there with him.

You plant kisses down his jaw, savoring the hitches in his breath as you nip on the skin at the crook of his neck. “Is this okay,” you ask wickedly.

“Fuck,” Noah utters, voice breaking as he sucks in air. “Yeah-”

He cups your cheek with his hand and leads you up, brings you back where he can kiss you again. Noah kisses you-he lets himself kiss you. His tongue experimentally whetting against your all too willing lips before your mouth opens up to him and it's clear in the clumsy way he's eager to explore your mouth--the boy has no idea what he's doing.

It's fine.

You smile against his mouth, taking charge and running your tongue against his. Reaching for his free hand and guiding it, inviting him to explore the shape of your body in an oversized t-shirt and tiny booty shorts that you wouldn't even take the trash out in.

Noah does, clasping your hips with his hand as you binch up the fabric of his shirt in your hands as you lose yourself in kissing him, in drinking him in like a comfort series you could endlessly rewatch.

You're both breathless, as you lay your head down on his chest, content.

“That was,” Noah says all out of sorts, “wow.”

“Guess you're going to be the next great american writer,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, running his hand up your side.

“Hey,” you continue, relaxing into his touch, “Hemingway was a man of few words.”

“Was he the alcoholic one?”

“I think a lot of writers were,” you admit. “I tried to read his whale book but it was boring as fuck.”

“Moby Dick,” Noah says thoughtfully, “did Hemingway write Moby Dick?”

“Who cares,” you reply, pressing a kiss against the edge of his lips, fine with spending the wee hours of the morning making out with Noah.

“Well now I want to know.”

“Really,” you tease, bringing your hand up, running your fingers through his soft hair.

His eyes close. Noah leans into your touch. “I'll google it later.”

You giggle.

Then he’s kissing you again and you could care less about books and long dead writers. Noah captures your lips with his and you intertwine your fingers in his hair, a hand on his chest, wondering what it would feel like to have his bare skin against yours and caught between the enormity of your want and letting things happen naturally. It was Noah. You didn’t want to rush him.

You were still amazed he’d kissed you back,that he wanted you the same way you wanted him. The love had never been the point of contention between you two. You loved him at nine and you loved him at nineteen.

Noah losses some of his hesitation, his hands sliding down your side until they reach the swell of your hips straddling his waist. Then his hand slips under the fabric of your shirt and you moan into his mouth at the sensation of his fingers splayed against to taunt muscles of your abdomen.

It’s just flaring want consuming you whole.

“Is that,” Noah manages between bated breaths, “okay?”

You kind of want to shake his shoulders and say shut up and keep going, because you might just combust in the next few minutes if he keeps going like this, this clumsy tenderness mixed with the assault of his body discovering yours. “Yeah,” you stammer out, more feeling than young woman. “Great actually.”

Noah chuckles, trailing kisses down your neck as you lean back a little, before pulling away. . .before pulling your shirt over your head.

He sucks in a breath at the sight of your naked torso.

You can’t help the headyness in your chest at his reaction, at the way you were affecting him. “Like what you see,” you grin, all brash confidence that threatened to topple over like a house of cards at every turn, at the shift of his body under yours.

For once, Noah doesn’t have some smartass comment, just reaches his hands to your cheeks and pulls you down flush against him.

Fuck.

You kiss him feverishly, your hands finding the hem of his shirt as running yours fingers against the sliver of skin.

Noah moans into your mouth and you swear you can’t even function at the sound. The entire world is boiled down to you and him, him and you, and building pressure in your belly that threatens to explode.

“The shirt-,” you stutter out, half out of your mind.

“Yeah,” he obliges, sitting up and tugging it off.

And then you’re melting against him, the warmth of his skin against yours. Your breasts flush against his bare chest. Your toes curl up as you sigh, hands clutching at his neck, at his cheek, at the ends of his hair.

You kiss his jaw, you suck on the skin of his jaw and none of it is enough. Fuck, you want him so bad. You’re so fucking horny. It’s not like you’d been with a lot of people. But it had been over a year since your last sexual encounter.

And that might explain part of it-

Noah cups one of your breast with the palm of his hand, and fuck-

Your mind blanks as you moan his name. “Noah,” you whimper.

He kisses your collarbone, smiling against your skin.

“Do you want to-,” he asks, sounding more self assured by the word.

“Yes, yes,” you eagerly answer, kissing him hungrily. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Noah laughs breathlessly.

Then he’s whimpering as you run your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

His hand closes around your wrist before you can get further, “condom?”

“Fuck,” you swear. This was so unsexy of you both. But it wasn’t like you had a reason to buy condoms along with pads and fruit snacks. “I think I have one,” you vaguely remember there being one in your wallet.

“I really hope you do.”

“Jerk.”

With great reluctance, you crawl off him to go look for your purse. You had to stop throwing it wherever and hang it up. It would've made it easier to find right now.

You don’t look back at Noah, even though you can feel his heavy gaze on you. The airs filled with static electricity as you rifle around and find the slim black bag.

It’s another few minutes of fishing through its contents before you find the thin small envelope that you were pretty sure you’d gotten in health or at planned parenthood at some point. Ava had definitely been there.

When you turn around, Noah’s sat up in bed, in your bed, in the bed you two share, have shared for months. It’s too dark to make out the expression on his features from this distance, but it’s under his dark eyes that you make your way back to him.

You push your shorts and underwear down in one go, discarding them by the side of the bed, taking care not to lose the condom (you were going on another target run asap) before you’re once again straddling his waist, feeling Noah already hard under your thigh.

“I’ve,” he starts as you sit up on your knees, feeling incredibly vulnerable. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh.” You’re off kilter. Does he not want to? It’s fine. You’re just surprised. It’s Noah. He’s tall and funny even if you want to strangle him half the time --he can cook-- and he’s so fucking hot when he’s not being adorkable. You’re surprised. “We don’t. . .have to.”

He sits up under you. “No. It’s,” Noah blushes, “I want to, it’s just-you should know?”

“Oh. Okay,” you lean in, kissing him with a tenderness he deserves in spades, “if you’re sure.”

Noah grasps your hips in his hands, pulling you in, “I’m sure.”

He kisses you.

You push him down onto the bed by his shoulders. His eyes are full of trust as he looks up at you, full of love like the moon on a clear night. You carefully open the condom up.

Noah shimmies his boxers off.

And because you’re you, you reach down and stroke his cock with your hand.

He shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he throws his head back into the bed, his back arching.

You wait a moment for him to still underneath you, before you roll the condom onto his cock, letting your desire carry your through as you fumble a bit. Again, you didn’t exactly have much experience on Noah. You just had some experience.

You lean down flush against him, kissing his lips, as you guide his cock to the apex of your thighs and part your legs, moaning into his mouth as he enters your soaked entrance. Noah stretches you out, leaving you a trembling mess, faring no better than he currently was under you, as his hips thrust against you and you-fuck!

It’s a tangle of limbs as you wrap your arms around him, lacing your fingers behind his neck, wanting more, and more as your hips more erratically against his.

Noah is all kisses and moans and his fingers bruising the skin of your hips as he presses you closer against him.

You don’t really know or care about anything but the feel of his cock inside you, as he thrusts with fervor, and clutches you near. You just want and want and stars dance across your eyelids as your skin catches fire, the heat in your belly finally boiling over as you fuck him, grinding your hips against his.

You splutter, reaching your climax while topping the boy you’ve been in love with for what might as well be your whole life. It’s just your strained voice, repeating his name, “Noah,” like it’s an answer to the whole meaning of life bullshit.

Good.

Bad.

It always comes back to him.

Noah.

He comes against you a second later, your name a sharp breath on his lips, before he goes as boneless as you feel. You’re on cloud fucking nine.

It’s a feeling no amount of weed can come close to.

Exhausted, you get off of him, slumping into a puddle on the bed. Fucking Florida. You were too hot and sweaty to curl under the blankets now.

“I fucking love you.”

“Oh,” you snipe back, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, “now that I’ve fucked you you tell me.”

“Shut up,” Noah manages. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go toss the condom.”

He sits up slowly, “oh this episode’s my favorite.”

You’d completely forgotten about Bob’s Burgers reruns playing on the TV.

*

*

*

It’s New Year’s Eve and the three of you are eating ice cream on the beach. Only in Florida.

“And why can’t I go in the water?”

“Because you don’t have your bathing suit,” Noah tells Jane for the hundredth time.

“I promise I’ll just stick my feet in.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” you shake your head.

She frowns. “I promise!”

What the heck. It’s not like you were going anywhere else after this. “Okay. But you have to finish your ice cream first.”

“Wow,” Noah says, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leaning his weight against you, making you stumble in the sand. “What a pushover.”

“Me!” You reply, offended. “You let her stay home for no reason.”

The twins exchange glances. “She had chickenpox,” Noah shrugs shamelessly.

“And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Korean skincare does miracles.”

You roll your eyes at him, “shut up.”

Jane giggles easily as she decides this patch of sand is the one, and sits down, licking her rocky road ice cream happily.

“Jane,” you ask gently.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember why you’re ten and we’re not?” It had been bugging you, ever since the parent teacher conference. There had been no more nightmares since September, but it bothered you, that she might remember anything. That Jane might not want to tell you. You couldn’t help her if she didn’t tell you.

She shrugs. “Not really,” with a child’s ability to shrug things off.

Noah asks the question you’ve been dreading. “Do you remember Redfield?”

Jane looks at you both, frowning. “Who?”

Your shoulders sag with relief. You hide it with a bite of your ice cream cone. Jane had a habit of picking up on things.

“No one important,” Noah brushes off, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are being weird,” Jane complains. “Is this about you two being gross together? I saw you holding hands.” She narrows her eyes at you accusingly. “Don’t you remember boys have cooties.” She shakes her head. “Grown ups.”

“Jane,” Noah squeaks.

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. “Yeah. We thought you should know.” It was better to leave the whole Redfield business behind. She didn’t need that shit weighing her down. “I don’t know. I like your brother a lot for some reason. Ava says it’s trauma induced codependency but she’s Ava so. . .”

Jane frowns again, letting the ice cream drip onto the sand as she thinks. “Does that mean I’m getting a sister?”

It’s your turn to be flabbergasted, as your skin reddens into a ripe tomato. “What!”

“It’s only fair,” she explains. “If you get my brother then I should get a new sister.”

“How about a stuffed animal,” you barter.

“You let me play five Nights at Freddies?”

“No way Jane,” Noah says, shaking his head. “It’ll give you nightmares.”

“What about minecraft,” you try. “Just on Fridays though.”

“Okay. i don’t want my ice cream anymore. I want to go play in the water.”

You nod, kicking your shoes off. “Okay yeah. Let’s go throw it away. I’m sick of mine too.”

You toss the ice cream and race Jane into the waves.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [3]

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 3.5 OR Chapter 4

➜ Words: 3.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Jungkook didn’t know this is how his night would turn out.   The cold night air bites at his skin, turning his cheeks rosy. His finger presses the button and there’s clinking and clanking before the aluminum can comes rolling at the bottom slot of the vending machine. He takes it from the slot and walks over to the wooden bench.   “Here.”   You’re sniffling, your entire body jolting as you do so. You take the cold grape soda with both hands, and hold it in your lap. He hopes you like it — he saw you drinking grape soda once back in high school.   Slowly, Jungkook takes a seat beside you. It’s terribly awkward for him, and he’s not sure what to do. The sounds of your sniffling shatters the silence of the night.   “You know….” He clears his throat. “People always break up with their first girlfriends or boyfriends.” Jungkook steals a glance at you. Tears are still slipping from your tear ducts, shedding down the apples of your cheeks. “And, uh, first loves don’t usually last. Even if it did, the divorce rate is pretty high, so, um, uh...yeah.”   Your sniveling is violent as if you’re trying hard to keep it at bay. He scratches the back of his neck, mind scrambling for ways to comfort you.   “You either get married or break up, so I guess he didn’t see you as the marriage type.” It’s the shittiest advice ever. Jungkook is at least self-aware enough to know just how bad his attempt at consoling you is, but it tumbles out of his mouth anyway with the half of the brain cell he has left. “You guys weren’t that great of a couple anyways—”   You burst out crying. Again.    This time the sobbing is louder, harder. Uncontrollable. It makes Jungkook look in all directions to make sure no one’s here lest they call the police and accuse him of harming you somehow.   “I...I love him!” you manage to say past your sobs, voice breaking in the process. It’s heart wrenching, though nothing but the truth. In this second, you’re so utterly vulnerable that it makes him entirely uncomfortable. “I l-love Jin. S-s...so m-much.”   You’re shaking with gut-wrenching sobs. Grief pours out in a flood and salt water creeps from your eyes. You whimper, “I thou—ght I was going to m-marry him, J-J-Jungkook.” The boy beside you doesn’t like the way you call his name, how you’re crying when you say it, how you’re blubbering. “Next month was supposed—….supposed to be our...two year anniversary.”   Jungkook has the urge to wipe off the flour stain on your forehead. But as he contemplates if he should or shouldn’t, he loses his opportunity. You tilt your chin to look at the sky, stain out of way as tears spring free down your cheeks.    You sniffle, “I really, r-really love him.”   Jungkook leans in.    He wraps his arms around your shoulders. He pulls you in close and hugs you tight. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but this is probably the least he can do. What his intuition tells him to do.    He feels you tremble against him until you stop. “W-what are you doing?”   “Umm…”   “Get off of me,” you spit at him half-heartedly and he lets go as if he’s burning you.   You’re back to sobbing again.   Jungkook is at a complete loss.   You were better as a bitch or at least easier to handle. It’s horrifying when you’re crying.

The cake burns in the oven. Jungkook can see the smoke curling into the air. He can smell it as it singes off his nose hairs. And he takes it out with mitts, coughing and wheezing, throwing the charcoaled tray on the kitchen counter. He turns to the person responsible.   “Were you not watching it?!”   “Fuck you, Johnson.”   “Why didn’t you set a timer?!”   “Why didn’t you?!”   “Because I wasn’t the one who put it into the oven!” He shouts, “Are you an idiot?!”   You’re looking at him what that infamous frown — those lopsided lips, that knot between your brows that makes your anger tangible. He watches the way you open your mouth to retort...but the hesitation is visible. And in shock, he then watches the way your expression crumples.   His gut feeling tells him this isn’t right. He steps back. But then it happens.   You start to cry — Jungkook freezes, eyes as big as saucers.   Your head knocks forward, tears drip to the floor. You’re so small. He’s never seen you like this before. Jungkook’s never seen you so vulnerable before.   “H-Hey, Y/N. C’mon….”   His hands come out, but they don’t touch you. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to make it stop. He is powerless.   “I’m sorr—”   Jungkook’s entire body jolts. His eyes rip open into the night. He’s woken up in a pool of his own cold sweat. Oh god. Thank fucking christ it was only a nightmare — he’s still traumatized for life.   The boy sighs, running a hand over his face and through the damp strands of his hair. He twists and turns, trying to return back to sleep, but he’s unable to. Eventually, his hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand.   5:42 am. Jungkook: hey 5:42 am. Jungkook: u ok??? 5:58 am. Jungkook: so when should we meet up for napoleon again   Hours later, it says you’ve seen the message, but you never answer him. You leave him on read.

It’s been a few days — how many, you’re not so sure.   You’ve been binging on ice cream and fudge brownies. The area near your mouth is stained with chocolate and crumbles of the treats. You haven’t showered in a while, or got up for that matter. It just feels better when you can pull the covers over your head and go through pictures of you and Seokjin on your phone.   Photographs of ice-cream dates, that time you went to an amusement park together, your high school graduation, the fairy lights you saw on Christmas, the beach during summer break, the movies during Spring break….   All of them. You look through all the pictures, from the blurry ones of him holding you close to the ones where you’re pouting as he leans down to plant a kiss on your cheek. You miss Jin so much it hurts and you always end up crying again when you play back the videos — sobbing underneath the lump on your mattress.   You’re glad you don’t have a roommate who can hear you crying day and night.   You remember the first time he asked you out, the first time he held your hand, the first time you kissed. It’s all fresh on the forefront of your mind, and you’re left wondering what you did wrong, where things took a turn and you didn’t even notice.   And you lay like that until you can’t cry anymore, until there’s no more pictures to see for the tenth time, until you reach the end of your years of text messages going back and forth. That’s when you see Jungkook’s text and you’re reminded that you can’t just lie around.   You need to get up, go to school. You paid a lot for it and you have midterms — you can’t leave him waiting.   Having no one to turn to, you dial his number.    It rings thrice before it picks up.   “Hello? Y/N?”   “Hey.” You can’t recognize your own voice. It’s thick and crackly, making you wince. “Sorry. I...called.”   “No, it’s okay. It’s okay, trust me. Um, are you, uh, alright?”   “I don’t know,” you answer honestly and peel back the covers just a bit. “I just wanted to let you know, I still remember the midterm, so…”   “Yeah, I know, t-take all the time you need.”   “Okay.” It goes silent. “That’s it. I should go now.”   “Right. I should probably go too. Take care of yourself.”   The call ends.   At least you still have a reason to get up.   //   Even if your mind is slowly preparing itself but your body isn’t, you have to eventually lug yourself up anyhow to get food when your supply of brownies and ice-cream runs out.   It’s a miracle how you can just go on autopilot — that you can walk to the dining hall while brain dead, that you can go forward when your bones and muscles are numb to movement.   You grab a tray and haphazardly scoop a ladle full of soup into your bowl. But when you turn away to find a seat, you come face to face with the worst of it, having forgotten this would happen.   You catch sight of Moonbyul and Sandeul at a table, but there’s no way you can approach them. They’re not your friends. Not anymore. All of your friends were Jin’s friends. He introduced you to them — and they know him better and longer than they know you. It is undoubtable that they would choose him.   You’ve lost everything.   You have no one.   Your hand tightens on the edge of the tray, looking for an empty table, searching for a spot where you can sit and quickly eat. Then you suddenly hear a call of your name—   “Y/N!”   Turning around, you discover Jungkook standing up from the cafeteria bench with his arm raised in the air. You approach hesitantly in five strides.   “Hey….”   All his friends are staring at you. One that you recognize as Jimin, another as Taehyung, one that has sharp features and striking looks and the other sleepy with cat-like eyes. “Ummm…”   “You can sit here.” Jungkook moves his friends’ trays out of the way, gesturing for them to scoot over. They look at him like they’ve gone crazy.   “T-Thanks…” You take him up on the offer, not wanting to reject him and make it more awkward.   They continue to gawk at you, and Jungkook has that sympathetic gaze of his. You know you look like a mess — you haven’t run a brush through your hair, the underneath of your eyes are red from rubbing, your nose is dripping, and your spoon trembles as you bring the soup up to your lips for a sip.    “Uh, this is Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok.”   “Nice to meet you,” you croak after clearing your throat.   “We’re in introductory cakes and decorating techniques together,” Taehyung chirps with a grin.   “Yeah, I know.” You try to smile and look over at Jimin. “And we’re in fine pastries together, right?”   Jimin nods, not uttering a single word. The awkwardness is tangible.   The man named Yoongi sucks up his soda noisily and then pops his lips off his straw. “Is your boyfriend not here toda—ow! What the fuck, dude.”   Jungkook’s doe eyes look back at his friend’s. “What.”   “Don’t play dumb, you just stepped on my damn foot—”   “Hey, is that all you’re eating?” Jungkook points his fork at your meager bowl of soup. Then he moves a bowl of fruit from his tray to yours. “Eat this. You like fruit, right? It’s good for you.”   You stare at it and pierce the strawberry to chew it in your cheek. Jungkook smiles when you move the honeydew off the bowl onto his plate. He eats it. “So when do you want to meet up again?”   “Tomorrow.”   “Okay, sounds good.”   Eventually, you finish your meal and mumble something about having to go to your locker. You bid them farewell and Jungkook waves with a brightened smile.   All five of them watch your backside becoming smaller. Then once you’ve disappeared, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung turn to Jungkook and wait for an explanation.   He looks back at them. “What?”   “Don’t ‘what’ us. The fuck was that.”   “Since when did you become buddies with Y/N?” Yoongi inquires, curious as well to the sudden change that almost gave him whiplash from sheer shock.   “Okay, first off, we’re not buddies. She’s just going through some shit, so I’m trying to be a decent human being.” They continue to eye him and Jungkook sighs, putting down his utensil. “Jin dumped her.”   “Oh shit.” Hoseok exchanges a look with Jimin.   Taehyung’s jaw is slack. “Damn, that makes a lot more sense.”   “Yeah, so don’t talk about him, dumbass,” Jungkook says pointedly to Yoongi.   “Hey, I didn’t know! Don’t put the blame on me.”   Hoseok asks, “When did it happen?”   “I don’t know, like a few days ago.” The dark-haired man leaves out the part where you were crying. They don’t really need to know that detail and he has no plans of making a spectacle out of you.   Taehyung leans in closer, too nosy for his own good. “Why?”   “How the hell would I know? Ask if you want to know that badly.”   “Nah, it’s no wonder though. She looks pretty bad.”   Jungkook muses the same and he can only hope you’re holding up well — if not for your own sake then for the sake of the midterm.   //   Another day comes and goes, a sunfall and sunrise, and you find yourself knocking at Jungkook’s door.   You didn’t know the weekend was so long. It feels long when you have no one to see, no one with you, nothing to do. Even after a full week has passed, you don’t feel better or close to it, but you know logically it’s better to get up and at least do something productive. You have some self awareness to know that rotting in your bed would be a pathetic way to die.   The door swings open.   The boy’s eyes are rounded. It occurs to you that you never realized just how brown his eyes are. “What are you doing here?”   “I...thought we could meet up early. I don’t really have anything to do, so…”   “How’d you know this is my room?” Jungkook peeks down the hall as if he could catch the person who exposed him like this, but there’s no one.   “I asked the front.”   “Oh.”   “Can I….”   “Sure.” Jungkook widens the door without thinking of the consequences and you step in.    It looks like a tornado took a turn here. His belongings are scattered and in disarray, clothing hanging off the back of his chair and dumped on the floor like there was a Black Friday sale.    Jungkook follows your line of sight and laughs stiffly. He picks up his briefs by your foot. “I’m usually not this messy, I swear. I’ve just been too busy to clean—”   The man pales and jumps on his bed when he notices what you’re staring at. He tries to cover up his IU posters with his hands and his body, but to no avail.    “These aren’t mine! They’re just up temporary cause, they were, um, gifts from my mom. I was a fan of her back in the day! But not anymore! Don’t make fun of me…”   The entirety of his wall above his bed is posters of IU from back in her debut days to her most recent comeback. He has a shelf of all her albums lined up in a row with her official lightstick too. They don’t seem dusty at all.   You take your eyes off of them, not uttering a single comment.   Jungkook realizes you’re not going to tease him and gets off his bed awkwardly. He continues to pick up after himself, throwing his used clothes in the laundry basket. His eyes flicker up to you.   “Wow, not even trying anymore, huh?” he jests, trying to lighten the mood. “Your outfit’s ugly.”   You look down, self-consciously tugging on the hem of your oversized sweater. It’s a taupe hoodie that goes to your knees. “It’s Seokjin’s.”   “O-oh. I, uh, mean you smell bad.” Jungkook laughs by himself and grabs his Febreze off his nightstand. He sprays the expanse of your body. It smells like fresh linen.   He stops after five seconds when it occurs to him you’re standing motionlessly — when it hits him that you’re not going to smack the head of his side like he expected you to.   Jungkook puts the Febreze back on the table and clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.”   You’re freaking him the hell out. No matter how much Jungkook tries to banter with you or pick an argument, you remain quiet.   //   Even if you’ve gone mute, your baking abilities are luckily still intact.   Jungkook works quietly alongside you and helps you assemble the cake. After two strenuous hours, the product is put in front of the two of you. At first glance, the presentation is acceptable, but taste is another thing.   He cuts into the cake and eats. You wait patiently for his reaction. Jungkook’s brows wrinkle.   “Ugh, god.” He sets his fork down. “It’s so bitter.”   Your cakes are usually too sweet that it hurts his teeth — now it’s not sweet enough.   “Did you add any sugar?”   “You kept complaining I add too much,” you murmur dejectedly.   “Yeah, but you have to add some, Y/N. It’s not enough now. Here. Taste it. It’s disgusting.”   He gives you a tasting fork and you take a bite. After a thoughtful chew and swallow, you look at him impassively and shrug. “Tastes fine to me.”   “What?” Afraid he’s gone absolutely crazy, Jungkook takes another big bite. This time, his entire mouth dries and his tongue shrivels. It’s bad enough that he hisses, “It’s bitter.”   “I can’t taste it,” you mutter apologetically, eyes on the floor. “I think it’s because my nose is plugged.”   “How are you supposed to bake if you can’t taste?”    Jungkook sighs in frustration.   All your efforts for the past two hours have gone down the drain. You’ll have to start again, making it once more. But—    “What’s the point?” you ask him, shoulders slumped and your entire form drooping in on itself.    “What?”   “What’s the point?” you whisper to Jungkook. “We either do well or we fail, but it’s not like it’ll matter. We’ll still pass the class and we’ll move on. And we’ll graduate and work, and then die a few years from now. It’s not like this’ll significantly change our lives. What’s the point if we make it well or not. What’s the point of worrying about it.”   Jungkook is utterly mortified at your sudden despair. “Don’t you want to do well?”   You shrug.   He doesn’t know who this is — who you are — what you’ve become. This isn’t the Y/N that he knows.   “Can you stop moping?”   Silence.   “You’re not helping yourself by being miserable,” Jungkook says sharply. It pisses him off that you’re so pathetic, that all it took for you to become so small was a mere breakup. He can’t fathom that his rival has been reduced to this. “There’s worse things out there. It’s not like you’re dying.”   It remains quiet.    He doesn’t know what he has to do to squeeze some kind of living response from you.   “You’re alive and you’re still here. How much longer are you going to be like this? We have things to do!” Jungkook shouts, throwing his fork into the sink overflowing with dishes and bowls he has to wash as a result of your blunder. And it still seems like you don’t care. “I don’t get why you’re so sad. Jin isn’t even that great. He dumped you. So what? You move on! You get over it!”   You sniffle.    It snaps him back. Jungkook comes crashing down to reality. He watches the way you put your hands to your face and he realizes you’re crying again while nodding. God. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, for him to sound like such an asshole.   “I’m...sorry,” you whimper, words muffled behind your hands. “I just...I’m t-trying.”   He sighs for the nth time. Guilt overwhelms him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”   Jungkook gently tugs on your strand of hair that falls in front of your face. His voice softens. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”   You nod, wiping your eyes away with your hand. “I just r-really want to go home and pull the covers over my head and pretend it never happened.”   “I know.” He really doesn’t.   Part of him still doesn’t understand. Jungkook can’t comprehend what was so great about Kim Seokjin that has you so devastated, but he tries his best to empathize. “But we can’t do that, can we? We just gotta...keep going. And it won’t be too hard cause it’s not like you have to do this on your own, right? Cause I’m here…..and you’re here, and all…”   He’s bumbling, tripping over his own tongue and cringing over his poor attempt at comforting you. But you look up at him with glossy eyes and he lets go of your hair.    With no one else to turn to and no one that you can confide in, you manage a small nod. You choose to believe him.