#I spent a year and a half procrastinating/finding the right answer for this ask

[dragon-in-the-watery-bowl]

Recovering

After (Probably) a year, I once again write something for the IF timeline of the Ghost AU, after spending almost a month struggling with procrastination to get it done.

He wasn't sure of how much time had passed by since Mukuro left the nurse office to destroy Monokumas left, right and center, having spent all of it watching the still unconscious Makoto.

And being unable to stop thinking about her every time he looked at his pale face.

He still couldn't understand how something as inconsequential as that fake escape switch ended up breaking this entire killing game, and sending it into such disarray, to the point that Junko had to lie to the rest of her classmates to get them against Mukuro and the still injured Makoto.

Maybe all of this was just the boy's "luck"s doing, but then, why he fell victim of the trap that was meant for the soldier?

Why he ended up in the same position he left Akane in after he let himself die?

He barely heard Mukuro opening the room's door and going back inside it, but, once he finally felt her presence back in the nurse office, he first noticed her frazzled expression, before he realized what she was doing.

She was trying to hide the still unconscious Makoto under the bed.

Probably to make sure the rest of class 78, who had been manipulated by Junko to start a manhunt against them, couldn't find him, and hurt him.

Once she hid Makoto, leaving him with a saline solution being injected into his arm to substitute the blood he had lost thanks to that damned spear, she immediately dove under another bed, clinging onto its frame until her body was completely hidden to the naked eye, just in time to hide herself from a small group of undesirable guests.

A group formed by half of the rest of class 78.

It was clear that they came here to find Mukuro and Makoto, thanks to the injury the latter received earlier, but, thanks to the soldier's hiding both herself and Makoto, no one in the group saw anyone, and everyone got ready to leave the room.

Well, almost everyone.

Kyoko Kirigiri was able to convince the rest of the group to leave her and Chihiro Fujisaki alone in the room, under the excuse of using the broken-down Monokuma to get any information about the outside world, but he felt that that wasn't the reason behind the detective's want to stay behind in this room.

A suspicion that was immediately confirmed by her actions once everyone else left the nurse office.

She apologized to Chihiro, and asked her to record everything that would be said in the room, before she switched her attention towards the bed Mukuro was under, demanding the soldier to reveal, and explain, herself, having already noticed her, and Makoto's, presence in the room.

Once again, the detective proved in his eyes that her deductive prowess wasn't nothing to laugh at.

Finally having been caught, and without any possibility to escape without being seen again, Mukuro finally revealed herself to her two classmates, and started answering Kyoko's questions.

He spent almost all their conversation completely focused on the still unconscious Makoto, but he still was able to hear some interesting things from their mouths.

Like the fact that Junko didn't just erased Kyoko's memories of her time in the academy, but all of her memories, to the point that the only things remaining in her head were her name, and her desire to enter Hope's Peak.

It was clear that Junko didn't wanted her to solve any of the mysteries behind the killing game before she could even implement them, so she took every little thing related to her talent out of her brain before she left her with the rest of their class to start the deadly game.

He could understand her worries.

After all, if that was the deductive prowess of an amnesiac Kyoko Kirigiri, the gods will know what she would be able to do with all of her memories restored.

Once explanations were finished, and promises were made, Mukuro left the room to keep her rebellion against her sister, leaving Makoto behind, under the care of Kyoko and Chihiro.

And his too, even if neither of them would ever know it.

With Mukuro away, and the other two girls still on the room talking to each other, his attention went back towards the unconscious luckster, barely paying attention to what Kyoko and Chihiro were talking about, the latter having apparently discovered something about the Monokumas' programming.

But, whatever that discovery was, it ended up not mattering that much for him.

Because that was the moment Makoto finally opened his eyes.

---

Well, it looked like Makoto had recovered his memories somehow.

Because how he would have been able to know so much about his classmates otherwise?

Once they realized that the luckster had woken up, the rest of the class was called to go to the nurse office, while Kyoko explained to him what had happened while he was unconscious.

His classmates were still too blinded by Junko's lies to believe his words about him and Mukuro not being the masterminds behind the killing game, and the truth behind their imprisonment, even with Kyoko and Chihiro confirming to the others that his words were true, so, with a sigh and a pained grimace from having to sit up with a gaping wound in his stomach, he revealed his trump card.

His knowledge of the deepest secrets his classmates had.

Secrets that they once confided to him, and each other, during those two years when they were friends, those two years they spent together before the end of the world started.

This knowledge completely shook them to their core, planting small seeds of doubt against Junko's words in their hearts, and finally giving them a reason to trust Makoto once again.

But he still couldn't call it a victory for class 78.

Because they were still trapped inside the building, and without any escape plan in mind.

With Mukuro distracting Junko, and destroying her means of controlling what the classroom were doing, they started to formulate a plan, something about breaking in inside somewhere, but he didn't payed them that much attention.

Because the only thing that kept his attention was Makoto, who was still injured, but still trying to help his classmates no matter how much agony he was in thanks to his injuries.

Once again, his actions became just another reminder of her, her ghost still haunting him even though he was the one who died.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

And he didn't knew how to make it stop.

"Utsuro? Are you... ok?"

Makoto's voice, despite how weak it had become, still dragged him back into reality, finding himself being watched by those hazel eyes he has been stuck with since his death, a glow of kindness and compassion still shining through them despite the pain he could see marring his features.

"I'm ok, Makoto Naegi" He wasn't going to tell him anything. Because, why he should tell this to a complete stranger? "And why are you worried about me? You're the one who is injuried, not me"

"Because you're my friend" He wasn't able to stop a shiver go through his body at hearing his words, praying for him to not having noticed it. Who the hell he thought he was, telling him something like that? "Just like Ikusaba..."

Silence followed Makoto's bold proclamation, only being broken by the voices of the other members of the class, who had noticed their conversation, and were now asking the luckster about it, thanks to their inability to see him.

It wasn't until a bit later, once everyone else was once again distracted with the plan, and weren't paying attention to him, that Makoto focused back his sights on him.

And told him something that he wasn't expecting:

"I... I remember seeing you... or someone who looked like you... back when- before... all this... started"

He blinked a few times in confused shock, trying to process what Makoto had just said, before letting out a weak "What?" out of his mouth.

Unfortunately, it looked like the luckster didn't heard him, because he continued rambling about it "Yeah, I'm sure it was you... part of class... 79" His expression immediately changed once he said that number, eyes narrowed and lost in thought, before he continued, his voice betraying sadness through its tone "You... died... Reserve Course attacked the building, and... everyone died"

"Not quite..." Those words were supposed to be only known to himself, not realizing that he had spoken them louder than expected until he noticed the confused gaze the luckster was directing towards him.

"What...? What are you... talking about?"

He couldn't help but to grit his teeth in frustration, his thoughts cursing the entire chain of events that had drove him right into this situation.

But, at the same time, he couldn't find in himself hate towards the boy in front of him, who only wanted answers about the meaning behind all those memories he was just recovering in a whirlwind of pain and exhaustion.

"I... I will tell you later, once you and your friends get out of here. Now, you need to rest, you're still injured" He didn't had any intention of keeping that promise. With Junko still around, he knew that it wouldn't be any chance to keep that promise.

Makoto tried to protest against his words, but exhaustion finally took over him, sapping whatever strength he still had, and forcing him back into the bed.

Now that the luckster was once again asleep, he took a look back to the rest of the class, who looked like they had finally thought of a escape plan, before sighing.

This wasn't going to be over just yet, even if they somehow find a way to leave this building in one piece.

Because Junko would be still alive.

Alive, and ready to send her forces to kill the the moment they step outside.

But, at the same time, there was a small part of him who wanted to see them succeed, see them break the game and escape from Junko's clutches.

He wasn't sure from where these feelings were coming from.

Did the memories of "Yuki Maeda" were affecting him more strongly than he thought?

Or it was something else?

Either way, he just couldn't make this feeling go away, no matter how much he tried to repress it, or ignore it.

It just didn't wanted to leave him alone.

Watching as how a small group of the students of class 78 left the nurse office to places unknown, he decided it would be better to just keep his new role as an observant.

To see which team will become the winner in this ruined killing game.

And to see which team would become the most interesting one in his eyes.

[megamindsupremacy]

Day 6: Freeze/Burn

Mom, you killed me and you didn't even notice Mom, you've spent the past few years trying to kill me. Well, you half succeeded Mom, I have something to tell you. I'm dead. Ish. Mom, you know that thought experiment about Schrödinger and his cat? In this scenario, I'm the cat.

Read on Ao3

Masterpost/Burn cross-stitch

Mom,

Danny stared at the paper in front of him for a long, long moment.

Mom, there’s something I need to tell you 

Mom, I have to tell you something

He didn’t have to do this. 

Mom, you know the accident I had as a freshman?

He really, really had to do this.

Dear Mom,

Why do people even start letters with “dear” anyways?

Mine dearest mother

Mother,

Hey mom, I have a fun little secret to share.

You know how there’s a portal to hell in our basement? Well, hell on earth doesn’t tend to positively affect those around it

Clockwork said that this decision to tell her would make or break the timeline. Danny wasn’t sure why Clockwork would tell him that. Danny didn’t know which decision would break the timeline. He was too scared to ask. 

Mom, I died when I was fourteen and you didn’t notice

Madeline Fenton, you are cordially invited to

hey lol remember that time the town got pulled into another dimension? totally unrelated to what im abt to say lolz

The pen ink was bright green. Most everything in his lair was. Frostbite said it would change and grow as Danny does. 

Mom , did you know that ghosts aren’t unchanging blobs of ectoplasm? Dont ask how I know

Jazz was worried. She’s always worried, though, so that’s not any different. 

Dad, I was going to tell mom this but you're less likely to kill me about it

Mom, remember how you keep saying you want to rip Phantom molecule to molecule?

Mom, when I died I

Mom, great news! I didnt actually die. Dont ask. 

The paper was starting to wear thin under all the writing and erasing Danny was doing.

And then I faced god and backflipped into hell. I think that's how the quote went. Well, I wasn’t backflipping, and I’ve fought more than one “god”. The hell part is accurate though.

He could feel the crown calling to him. He didn’t particularly want to answer the call. Pandora said if he doesn’t don the crown then it would wear him whether he liked it or not. 

Hello Mom,

 I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to invite you to the coronation of

Danny looked up from the letter. Jupiter floated past him and crashed into Mercury. The Sun was in the corner and Pluto was missing. Again. 

As amazing as his lair’s solar system was, it was still bright green. An unfortunate quirk of being a (relatively) newly formed ghost.

Mom, I’m just going to rip the bandaid off. I’m a ghost. 

Mom, remember how you lost contact with your college friend because of a mysterious illness? Well, I speedran that illness. The illness is death, by the way. He’s not much of a friend. By the way.

This lair wouldn’t be his lair for much longer. The palace bends to the will of its king. Nobody needs their baby lair when they’re a king. He felt bad, abandoning it. 

Mom, I have a ectobiological discovery that’ll blow your mind. They call me a halfa. Half what? The important bit is I’m half alive. The other important bit is I’m half dead. 

Mom, fun fact. The ghost zone leadership operates by right of conquest. Remember what I was saying earlier about fighting gods?

Mom, fun fact. The ghost zone leadership operates by right of conquest. Another fun fact is that I've fought gods before, so really you don’t need to worry about this next bit

Hey, at least everything wouldn’t be neon green, then. 

Mom, God isn’t real. I think i’d’ve killed them by now. “Killed” in the loosest sense of the word. They probably would’ve killed me for real all the way, by now. 

The ceremony was a week from today. Today was the deadline to tell her. Clockwork didn’t look particularly surprised that Danny procrastinated until the last minute to start the letter. 

Mom, ghosts are way more intelligent than you give them

Mom, ghosts are way more intelligent than you give us credit for. They even have a governing system! Had. My bad. I’m working on fixing it. How? 

Mom, I failed my 10th grade Gov exam on the American Executive system. Sorry for not telling you before. You didn’t notice at the time. I’m telling you now because

Make or break the timeline, Danny. 

Mom, 

I’m writing this letter because I’ve been hiding something from you. I don’t know if you noticed. There's a lot of things you haven’t noticed. Remember the accident I had in the lab when I was fourteen? When I was hospitalized for a month? You and dad were so excited the portal finally turned on that you didn’t question how it happened. Or how I was doing. That’s fine, I didn’t really care, because Jazz was there for me. 

    I died, Mom. I died and I didn’t really die and I half-died. They call me a halfa. The other ghosts, that is. Half-dead, half-alive. I’m Phantom, mom. I fight the other ghosts to keep the town safe. They’re mostly cool now, though. Fighting each other for all eternity with no true winners or losers isn’t really appealing to them. Most of them. This isn’t the point.

    There’s one ghost I fought where winning or losing did matter. It mattered a lot, actually. His name was Phariah Dark, and he was the king of the Infinite Realms. Was, because I beat him. And now I’m the king of the Infinite Realms. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose. Become king, I mean. I did beat him on purpose. This also isn’t the point.

    My coronation is on Halloween. The ghosts think it's funny. And auspicious. And convenient. This is kind of short notice, but Clockwork didn’t really give me a ton of time to prepare to tell you. 

    I know we haven’t, you know, talked a lot recently. We’re not talking now. You’re in the lab back at home, and I’m in the Zone, writing a letter to you instead of talking to you face-to-face. But I still want to ask you to come. To the coronation. To my coronation. I’m being officially crowned the King of the Infinite Realms on Halloween, and I, Daniel Fenton, am inviting you, Madeline Fenton, to my coronation. There we go. I said it. 

I love,

Please dont kill,

Cordially,

Thanks,

Sincerely,

Danny Fenton

Make or break the timeline, Danny. 

Danny summoned the Crown of Fire into being. He held it in one hand, carefully, cautiously.

In the other hand he picked up the letter. 

It burned in a blaze of red-orange-yellow.

[sophitz]

Hey ! What is your favorite moment of sophitz / sokeefe / keana / dexphie and Koralie ? you're awesome !

Ahhh! Thanks!!! My favorite Sophitz moment has to be either their almost kiss scene in lodestar (BOI THAT FUCKED ME UPPPPP), or when they share their secrets for the first time in Everblaze, or when they gET THE COGNATE RINGS IN LODESTAR OR WHEN FITZ SAYS SOPHIE LOOKS GOOD IN HER MESSY BUN HOLY S H I T

Hmm… to say I don’t ship Sokeefe would be a massive understatement, but I do like that scene in Everblaze when they go to lunch detention together and Keefe comments, “Wow… I always forget you have your special ability session with Fitz,” when Sophie’s blushing. (Okay that turned into a Sophitz moment but can you blame me?)

I ship Tiana more than Keana, but I think the part in Exile where Biana pouts and Sophie thinks it’s because she isn’t on Keefe’s base quest team is pretty cute. And of course Keefe talking about that time he kissed Biana. Classic.

As for Dexphie, I ship them hard. Platonically. My favorite moments of their friendship are whenever Sophie stands up for Dex in front of the gang. I also love the group getting along at Dex’s house in Lodestar, if that counts.

diD SOMEONE SAY KORALIE??? the ANGST SHIP™™™? well, I definitely love the part where Kenric pushes her out of the everblaze and sacrifices himself!!! Or when Oralie sobs at his funeral!!!!!!! Or when she references what he would have wanted when she makes hard decisions for the good of the Black Swan!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)))))))))

But I love all of these scenes in the books so much! (And I’m just saying. If you’re bored you could make fanart of literally any one of them…)

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

[phanfictioncatalogue]

AO3 (9) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight

all that kindred eyes can see (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Teachers Dan and Phil figure that they could quite easily keep their relationship secret while working at the same school. It's only for half a year after all. But the keen eyes of a trio of friends soon start to pick up on little hints and clues. It's a good thing the students mostly just want to admire their love and figure themselves out along the way.

A Right Wrong Number (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Dan texts the wrong number after going on a date. Lucky for him, the wrong number is a kind man named Phil. And then they keep texting.

A Strange Mirror (ao3) - glowingatmosphere

Summary: Dan felt safe escaping to the attic of his grandma’s house, until he found a strange mirror with a strange man trapped inside. The man refuses to reveal the details of his entrapment, but Dan’s feelings urge him to solve the mystery even if it’s the last thing he does.

baby, if you wanna try (ao3) - sunflowerwitches (orphan_account)

Summary: wearing jewellery doesn't work in phil's favour when he sees friends that he hasn't seen in a while and they automatically assume he's engaged. engaged to dan

can we try again? (ao3) - Fictropes

Summary: “Yeah, Phil. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dan answers, softer than he’d wanted because he already knows what he’s about to do next.

(or Dan doesn't turn up in 2009 and bumps into Phil 11 years later at a youtube convention)

dreamed about you (ao3) - Fictropes

Summary: Firstly, Dan was 29. How was that a mature student?

Secondly, his actual book was on the university fucking syllabus.

(or the one in which Dan tries university again in a desperate attempt to prolong his procrastination, and his lecturer Phil is apparently something of a fan)

i AIM 2 b w/ u (ao3) - counting2fifteen

Summary: Dan’s life is a little bit of a mess. He met his only friend through a chat website, and Dan doesn’t even know what he looks like. The only person he’s ever come out to is said friend. He’s wasting his gap year away.

But hey, at least there’s that cute boy he met at London Pride.

Important Dates in History (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: Dan’s spent his gap year spinning his wheels; stuck working at Asda and living at home, the only thing really going for him is his new best (online) friend AmazingFilly. Even though Dan’s only come out to himself and Filly, he decides to travel to London alone for his first Pride. When he meets a gorgeous boy who asks him on a date, Dan takes the plunge. Thank god he has a best friend to talk him through his fears as he takes on his first potential relationship.

ink and alice (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan joins a band instead of going to university, and then he meets Phil.

In my arms I’ll catch you (ao3) - det395

Summary: When their space pod unexpectedly loses power, Dan and Phil must prepare for the unknown as they start drifting toward an alien planet

Just Let Me Adore You (ao3) - Yiffandquiff (paradisobound)

Summary: Dan didn't know what to expect when he agreed to go to Switzerland with his brother to 'find themselves' again. But he certainly wasn't expecting a massive snow storm to pass by and completely shut down any roads, train stations, and airports. However, when the snow gets worse, a mysterious man stumbles into the hostel he's staying at, and Dan figures out pretty quickly that he and the man are going to have to get to know each other fast.

Keep You Like An Oath (ao3) - SoManyRegrets

Summary: Dan and Phil accidentally get married. It doesn't cause an international incident, but it might as well have done.

kiss me in the dark tonight (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan's selling merch for a local dj and crushing on the dj's brother.

Maybe (ao3) - dvp_95, intoapuddle

Summary: They’re only friends but when Dan wants more, Phil gives it to him.

my heart will howl (till you pull it off the ground) (ao3) - islet

Summary: Dan caters to his wanderlust by driving them from London to France, Phil ponders the idea of marriage, and nobody wins at this game of life, after all.

The Art of Progress (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: In 2011, YouTube experiences an unfortunate malfunction and Dan and Phil make a choice. A year later, the consequences of that choice begin to reveal themselves...

Third Degree (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: Dan sets fires. Phil puts them out.

When I Fail (You'll Still Be Here (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: “I'm showing you the past,” Phil says.

“Why?”

Phil shrugs.

“If I told you it'd sort of defeat the purpose,” He says. “Sorry.”

Or the one where Dan's inner Phil decides to take him on a dream-tour of his failings.

where we belong (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: "Only you," Martyn says.

"Only me what?"

"Only you could end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with a gay author who writes gay books. Jesus Christ, Phil."

In which Phil is snowed in with nobody but the mysterious dark haired author next door for company.

with a bullet (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: phil returns to his room after a party thrown by his housemates only to discover that there’s already someone in his bed

[bangtanpromptsfics]

pyxis.

dialogue prompt #9: “Cheer up it's Christmas Eve, sweetheart”

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: christmas au, brother's best friend au, fluff, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 3,412 (oh no)

warnings: reader is a lil sad but nothing angsty tho

summary: christmas was always an eager wait. less for the tree decorations, family dinner and the fuss of toddlers. more for your childhood best friend who you kissed under a mistletoe years back.

a/n: ahhh!!! I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out to be. the inspiration was from a few christmas themed fics I read here and the movie ‘It's Christmas, Eve’. anyway this was my attempt though it's nowhere near christmas time. one of my personal goals is to celebrate a christmas like the west, the snow, the fuss and the commotion ;-;. Also I lost sense of time and space and this turned out to be 3k ;-;

masterlist

“Cheer up it's christmas eve, sweetheart”, your mother chimes as she pours brown batter into little cupcake moulds.

You simply smile at her, the festive mood not really getting to you because of exhaustion. Uni was tough, and enjoying this Christmas when you know you have tons of essays due in a few days was hammering inside your brain every now and then.

“Is that chocolate?”, you ask, leaning your tired body on the counter where she is at work.

“And orange”, she smiles, turning around to preheat the oven.

“Where's Jin”. Though you hated the routinely flicks against your forehead, the absence of your big brother felt weird.

“He went with Jimin to get the Christmas tree”.

The mention of Jimin brings a smile to your face. His soft features and captivating grin filling your head. If there was one of the few things you enjoyed coming back to your hometown for holidays, it's chocolate cupcakes your mom bakes and Jimin.

His family are friends with yours after all. You, Jin and Jimin attended the same school until college and other priorities in life drift you apart. Though the bond must have rusted a bit, you can't deny the fact that you still have that crush which started somewhere in middle school, on a chritmas eve like this when he kissed your cheeks shyly under the mistletoe. Your friends and family, and even Jimin himself must have seen it nothing more than platonic, but you still find yourself relieving the moment in your head however crazy it may sound.

Standing up straight, you decide to fix your bed hair and complete the skincare routine before the said duo drops.

“Mrs. Y/L/n...”, Jimin softly kicks the back door. He is carrying one end of a huge fir, and your brother on the other end, grunting from the freezing snow outside.

“Oh dear place it right there”, you mother is quick to her feet helping the boys and doing her usual commentary on how well the tree looked.

Jimin looks more handsome than ever, especially with his nose and cheeks dusted in scarlet from the cold. He looks really huggable in his fluffy sweaters and red beanie. Jin is busy commanding around so you choose to sit back, a very typical sibling energy and the size of decoration boxes and the tree itself not really appetizing to your will to find any strength.

“Hey Y/n!”, Jimin stares back at your eyes in a split moment which has your lashes fluttering suddenly. You probably look like you are carrying a disease and right now you become very hyper aware of that.

“You alright? You look tired”, he comments. You feel his eyes carefully studying the black under your eyes and worrying his mind because that's what he is like. He cares about everyone and everything, has a heart so soft it hurts to even think about it.

“Jet lag...”, you say, “I'll be fine”. You shoot a little thumbs up on his way to reassure.

“Why didn't Jin get the tree earlier? It's Christmas in a few hours”, you dodge the focus around you and walk near in an attempt to closely examine the tree for no reason other than feeling Jimin’s eyes a little too long on you.

Your brother gets visibly annoyed seeing you start a very unnecessary talk. So he is completely obliged to shoot back with, “Because you were in charge of Christmas decorations this year but your lazy ass flew down here only yesterday”.

“You know I was busy with Uni!”

“Whatever”, he shrugs, getting back to the box of tree decorations. You feel a little bad seeing yourself not being helpful during a festive season. It felt like you were procrastinating on your responsibilities as always.

“Um...is there any way I can help?”, you ask softly, earning a mischievous grin from Jin and your mom fills in the answer.

“We need more baubles. Also I missed out gifts for Aerum and June, so maybe you can get them”. Now this was already tiring and you were not lying earlier either, the jet lag was still choking you alive. You wonder if the huge pile of stars and glitters beside your foot aren't enough but then maybe it's true because this is the largest fir you ever saw for Christmas in your house. And speaking of the five year old notorious duo, your cousins-- Aerum and June, you have no other option than to step out into the butt numbing cold and get something for the sake of not getting your brains eaten.

While you stand there doing these calculations, Jimin puts a two and two and immediately suggests to tag along with you.

“That'd be great! Thanks sweetie”, your mom chimes, her fine lines of face gathering around her eyes while she does so and you catch her throwing a wink to your side and you pretend you never saw that.

“Thank you Jimin”, you smile in all honesty while he reciprocates the same.

“No problem. I'll get my car. Will you be ready in an hour? I think you just woke up”

“Uh...yeah”, you fake a laugh, “Yes I'll be ready in an hour”

Jimin still lives here in your hometown, attends a community college nearby and his house is just a few steps away from your own. You remember how you had the same analogy in your mind as well. You like living here. You like Jimin’s company. The lake Park and the annual ice skating competition in December and the bookstores and coffee shops at the outskirts of the town. And you can't seem to clearly remember when and where that feeling started to become foreign. Maybe it was a teenage quirk to explore the world that you are now a three hour flight away from all of this. It wasn't a deep regret, but seeing Jimin, it almost felt like it. It felt like you betrayed him. Because he seemed to be keeping his word to this day.

This year, it's a few degrees lower than what it usually is and you find yourself chattering your teeth together as you walk to Jimin’s house.

His footsteps rush to get the door as soon as you ring the doorbell and he greets with the same wide grin as if he hasn't just saw you an hour ago.

“Let's go?”, he asks immediately, getting house keys from his coat pocket and locking the front door before stepping out making you confused.

“There's no one home? Where are your parents?”

“Oh well didn't Mrs. Y/L/n tell you?”, he studies your features and gets his response so he continues “They went to New York this year for Christmas. It's some elder people thing I think...so I'll be spending Christmas this year with your family”

“Really!?”, you chime, and then immediately notice a very childish jump you did with tiny fists and all, feeling a little embarrassed at yourself, “Ah... uh I mean that's great”.

“Yeah”, he giggles, sounding like a twelve year old who is still waiting for his growth spurt, “Get in the car it's freezing in here”.

Since it's been six odd months you've spoken to Jimin, you figured it would would be strange and awkward to be with him, but his demeanor states otherwise. He could effortlessly begin conversations and build momentum with you and by the time you are at a thrift store, he is aware of the little gist of student life and the dramatically exaggerated history research paper still due.

“What are you getting for the twins?”, he asks, seeing you checking out the kids toys section with absolutely no idea and that's exactly what you reply to him.

“How about this puzzle?”, he brings a big jigsaw to your glance and you figure it's a great thing to have their little brains engaged and give yourself time to breathe.

“It's perfect!”, you add, immediately placing it your cart with a few decors you picked up from earlier aisles.

Jimin places an extra pack of Christmas candies in the cart, and you send him a questionable look knowing it's his way of bribing the kids coming this evening. He puts too much effort into people's happiness, something you wish you were capable of as well.

The shopping went smooth. It was therapeutic to get hot chocolate with extra marshmallows afterwards like he insisted followed by that very cliche movie scene where one of them develops a creme moustache and the other notices and dabs it off.

You want this moment to linger a little longer, but your whole family arrives in less than two hours and the decorations were due. If Jin doesn't have you in the next thirty minutes he might as well eat all the cupcakes your mom is baking as revenge.

“I had a great time”, Jimin states as he stops the car in front of your house, stealing the words from your mouth and warmth hugs your cheeks immediately.

“Me too. It's been long since we spent time with each other”

You hear a lone sigh with white fogs coming out of his plump lips while he does so, as if he were suddenly sad when you mentioned that.

“Are you okay?”

His grips tightens around the steering, “I've missed you”, he says, eyes meeting slowly. And as if he was suddenly pulled back to earth he conjures another sentence to not sound so vulnerable.

“I uh... It's just--”

“I've missed you too”

Even with the gear box painstakingly blocking the way, you throw your upper half towards his body anyways and you find him hugging you back. His hugs still feel the same from years back; safe and warm and filled with love.

If it wasn't for the constant reminder that your brother is probably plotting a murder against you, you would've stayed much longer in his embrace. Maybe the hug was a big straightforward for a bond still gradually blooming, but it didn't feel weird at all and when you pull back he is smiling down at you.

“I thought you two lovebirds flew off”, a very annoyed Jin states from above you. He is balancing himself on a chair to attach the mistletoe to the ceiling.

“Sorry hyung”, Jimin says. And somehow now you are getting super aware of the way your family is low key shipping you both. Not that it's an irritating thing of course though you seem to act like it. But you have no idea what's going on with Jimin, what if he said he missed you as your childhood friend? It's a lot difficult to segregate his priority of giving affection. He seems to be giving justice in terms of care for every living being he knows.

“The circus is on its way so I hope you both hurry with putting up everything together”, the voice above states, now lowering himself to ground after putting up the twig.

Three of you giggle at the mention of your family as a circus. Well in a way it definitely was. You have a bunch if uncles who crack awful jokes, a trait Jin himself as picked up from a tender age of ten. Then their wives and kids who share certainly the same braincells in comprehending things. You bet they'll ask you again about your major and your dating history once they walk in through that door amidst clearly stating everytime that you are a history major and yes still very single.

In the hallway there is a half decorated tree. A thread of fairly lights wrapped around the green and very few baubles hanging here and there.

“I'll put up the star and join you”, Jimin says, digging out a golden star from the carton. Though now he doesn't know why it was a good idea for him to announce that when both of you were almost the same height. He is just a few centimeters taller than you and the top of the fir is still very much way above your heads.

So with a chuckle you both figure Jin has to do it.

“This is your final year right?”, Jimin asks stepping closer to you. He seemed nervous about something. Or was it anxious?

“Yeah...you?”

“Yeah...”, his sweet tone was drawn almost like a whisper and you sense you should ask him further about what's wrong. But before you had to deal with a starter he continues,

“Are you planning to work in Chicago as well?”

“Sweetheart help me clean up the kitchen please”, your hear your mom's voice overpowering through the house. Which is good. Because you don't know what you are supposed to answer. It was as if he was almost hopeful that you'll choose your hometown all over again. But you aren't sure. So you take the opportunity to step away from the situation excusing yourself.

And while you are clearing the blobs of batter stuck on the counter, your mind is a haywire. What are you going to do? Though you know your whole family wants you to stay, it's still a foggy place to be in. Four years apart in another city as a college student has not provided much, except caffeine addiction and sleepless nights. Things were not even as fun as everyone told you.

A few steps away Jimin silently prays that you stay, because he had truly missed you. Even though you have outgrown from the eighteen year old shell as he had known, he finds himself actively choosing to be with you. Even when other things in life occupies his mind, there's an element of it which goes back to you.

“They are here!”. You groan silently, while your parents are throwing their hands in air, giggles and chatter fills in as your uncles and aunts and the taunting toddlers welcome themselves in.

“Y/n! You have grown so much!”, the older aunt comments, and you supply a manufactured smile to tag along. Other comments follow by soon, about how tired you are, gasps about not having a partner and future plans, all of which are not completely answerable at the moment but you manage to get through them all and finally excusing yourself back to the garage convincing there are more decor supplies in there.

Families are nice. They make festivals brighter and lives less lonely. But yours was just hard sometimes. Not that you completely loathed the people now fueling themselves off the cup cakes your mom bakes, you were just merely lost, still yet to come up with an answer to what your stance is after graduation.

“Hey...”. Jimin has joined you now which you notice feeling a warmth against your shoulder when he sits, with an extra scraf knowing the garage is still comparatively chilly than the house, “you okay?”.

“Yeah...I was just...thinking”

“Is this about earlier? I'm sorry if I made you anxious”, he quickly adds.

“No!...I mean yeah but, it's high time I find a ground with this. What are your plans?”

“I was thinking about teaching at Jefferson High”, he shifts rather uncomfortably. He is talking of the school in your town, your school, where you have lots of memories with Jimin, “You know...like we said during Junior year in high school?”

“I'm sorry Jimin”, you feel the guilt inside you growing, “I never kept my promises”.

“Hey...that's okay! Everyone changes. I just want you to be happy. I...I hope you are happy Y/n”, he reassures, taking your hand from your side and squeezing it between his soft palms.

“I don't know about that either...”

As much as you hated showcasing vulnerability to another person, you know Jimin is an exception. You had cried to him about everything during school days and he had never invalidated a single thing, even when you were visibly dramatic over a downpour during a family picnic when you were five.

Jimin is frozen on his seat as if he can't find the words. He was never good with words so instead he hugs you, a little longer than the last time till he is sure you have calmed down. Grateful for not ending up crying, you smile up at him and remind yourselves to get back inside to avoid suspicion, especially from the kids who take humiliating people as an important milestone to achieve.

When you enter back inside and get immediately surrounded by a million questions and chores thrown at you, you find your answer. Maybe your heart belongs back to everything your younger self had blabbered about. Not to mention, this fairly good reunion with your crush feels nice, though, he might still see it as platonic. Maybe he makes things less daunting.

By the way Jimin was owning everyone's heart in the house, it felt like he was family. Well in a way he is. But to put more clarity, he bought things together and his actions bought so much peace and love within everyone. Even the notorious twins listen carefully to him and help the uncles and aunts in the kitchen.

He is again by your side, two cupcakes rests on his palms and you take it with a silent ‘thanks’.

Seeing no signs of him beginning a talk now, you think of coming up with something. Maybe a memoir from today? Or about how absolutely handsome he looks right now? Wait.

“They are under the kissing twig!”, Aerum screams like the house caught in fire, her sibling joining by the side to provoke the habit even more.

“It's called a mistletoe Aerum”, your aunt corrects before pasting a smug across her lips.

Nothing changed. They are the same people. Hyping you and Jimin to kiss just like when you were thirteen. If the factor of time is removed, this is the exact night. Both of you cemented to the flooring as if you forgot to exist.

Both of your necks snap together to the mistletoe Jin had attached to the ceiling earlier. And when you lower your gaze back, face gawks at each other eye to eye. It's the same. He has that blush, the shyness from years ago. It's going to be platonic. Yet again. And this moment will only ever be romantic and flowery in your head.

June was the first to squeak, and Aerum shuts her eyes the moment Jimin is leaning his mouth towards your lips. It was difficult to relax under the stares of many, but when he ghosts his mouth over your again and leans in for a second kiss, you are fixated on him. Hands holding each other, the plump of his lips so soft it felt like you were biting into a fluff of cloud.

Maybe he'll have an explanation to your family for this. Not like anyone in the audience was disappointed. Your mother was almost in tears? And Jin looked hardly surprised with any of this. As if it was all swell according to his plans.

“You both are so cute”, one of the aunts awes and your mother is quick by her side, completely agreeing to it.

“Jimin...”, you return your gaze to the equally flustered man who just kissed you and he sounded almost breathless,

“I'm sorry if this was wrong it ju--”

“I like you”, you immediately snap in and his face is a void for an instant. Fully processing the words, his eyes disappear when he grins, “I like you too...a lot”.

“Are you two dating?”, the twins haven't dropped the case yet, running to your feet to help their curious brains.

“Yes...”, Jimin responds, looking up at you for a reassurance, which you quickly supply with a nod, “Yes we are dating”.

When the kids are satisfied they go away snickering to themselves.

“I decided to stay”, you say.

“Really!?”, his disbelief was comical, yet wholesome considering how much he wished for this, “I'm...I'm so happy!”.

Giggling at him, this time you lean forward and peck the corner of his lips.

“You lovebirds better get a room”, Jin announces and thankfully not loud enough to catch everyone else's attention.

Usually Jin expects a punch to his arms from his sister, but he sees how grateful you are for his mistletoe decor. He leaves the couple, satisfied that there won't be any more ranting about how much Jimin likes you.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptsfics

[bukojuiice]

ʚ  Midoriya, Bakugo, and Todoroki cramming school works with their S/O  ɞ *‧.₊˚*੭*ˊᵕˋ੭.*

izuku, katsuki, and shoto x gn! reader  ♡ 

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ These are some extremely self-indulgent hcs LMAO i’m currently consumed by a lot of school works and extracurricular activities, so i decided to take the time and write some of these up! this the first batch of hcs i’ve ever made so i hope you bear with some errors! i hope you enjoy!

hopefully i get to write more about the other bnha bois/girls soon so please also stay tuned for that!

if you like to see more from me, i have an ongoing bakugo x fem reader! smau called cuddle buddy! read it here!  ( ु•⌄• )  

✧ Izuku is very smart and hardworking so you’ve barely seen him cram any school work or tasks since the two of you started going out.

✧ Soft bby boi knows how to balance his workload from school whilst still being able to spend time with you.

✧ Now here were the two of you, partners for a huge science project that would serve as your midterms for the subject.

✧  Both of you were tasked to take care of two chicken eggs and treat them as your children. Draw faces on them, make them wear clothes, give them names and describe their personalities... literally treating them like actual babies.

✧ You were whining about it at first because it felt like an elementary project instead of something first year high school students (and those in the hero program for that matter) would do.

✧ Izuku remained positive however and reassured you that it was going to be a lot of fun.

✧ You were still salty and unimpressed by the project, but you couldn’t help but melt because of how cute Izuku was and how excited he was for this task. He really wanted to spend a lot of time with you and he was so so happy that you two were partnered for this project.

✧ Because it was midterms week, you were swarmed with tons and tons of stuff to do, so the two of you decided to finish everything else first then deal with the science project at the end of the week because it was the “easiest”. Boy.. were the both of you so so wrong.

✧ Izuku goes up to your room in the dorm so that the both of you can work on the project quietly, yet as he enters, he sees you panicking and running around the room, your camera hanging around your neck, holding two half-cracked eggs with weirdly sewn clothes and faces that looked like they were scribbled from sharpies.

✧ “Izu-kun... can you help me take pictures of our kids for the baby photobook? 

✧ He was about to faint on the spot from fantasizing about his future with you. 

✧ “Of course! hand me All Might Jr. first so you can take a picture of his cute little sister!” 

✧  Yes, your first born eggo is named after All Might. It was Izuku’s decision and you wanted to support him.

✧ You spent all day taking pictures, printing them, designing them and pasting them on the photo album. It was finally nighttime and the both of you are terribly exhausted and mentally drained.

✧ You and Izuku had creative minds so you were able to create the perfect photo album.

✧ Several hours have passed and Izuku still can’t stop thinking of the future he was going to have with you. What a cutie.

✧  After submitting and passing the photobook to the drop box Ilda left in the living room, Izuku goes up again to your room and is surprised by the sight of you sleeping soundly on your bed.

✧ He comes up to you, kisses your forehead and whispers these soft words to you:

✧ “I can’t wait to tell our future kids how I met you.” 

✧ Bakugo Katsuki has never crammed a school work or project in his entire life.

✧ You on the other hand, procrastinated a lot, yet could still pass tasks on time. Although, Katsuki still reprimands you for it. Calling you “dumb butt” instead of the usual name callings he uses whenever talking to your classmates which is “dumb ass” 

✧ He is your boyfriend so it’s not that much of a surprise, it’s just that you’re a bit shocked that he would be really really soft on you. It’s such a sweet gesture though.

✧ After binging a entire series on Netflix the other day, and because he couldn’t resist your pleas of begging him to watch this show with you, it completely slipped from the both of your minds that you had a dance project to work on for your Physical Education class.

✧  You immediately panicked, and Bakugo began to show his usual hot-headed side of him and scolded you for it. Despite him forgetting about it too.

✧ The two of you were going to film yourselves dancing to the Cha Cha dance style and you had a day to create the raw video without edits.

✧  You suggested that the two of you practice by uploading your videos to Tiktok and ask for advice from the professionals who posted their videos there too

✧ “Katsuki-kun do you think we should upload our videos to Tiktok?”

✧  “Absolutely fucking not.”  

✧ After watching a few beginner dance practice videos on Youtube, Katsuki immediately got the hang of it.

✧ Your man had the moves. He really was good at everything.

✧ You couldn’t help but stare at him as he continues to sway and follow the steps without missing a beat.

✧ Bakugo smirks at you, “Like what you see?”

✧ “Get your mind out of the gutter.” You threw a pillow at him as his tease came out of nowhere. 

✧  Since you were quite a slow-learner, it took a few hours before you got the hang of the first routine.

✧ In those few hours, you probably have stepped on Bakugo’s toes a few hundred times and a few hundred fucks were cursed out of his mouth every time it happened.

✧  He was still patient with you though in his own little way. Constantly scolding you every time you made a mistake, but never made you feel guilty for it. 

✧ You were able to finish recording the raw video by evening. A few hours to spare before the deadline. Either way,  the both of you were exhausted when the adrenaline finally died down. 

✧ “I can’t wait to dance with you again like this. Maybe Waltz or Ballroom next time?”

✧ “You’re a shitty dancer so don’t expect it to happen anytime soon.”

✧ “Then again, I’m dancing with you. So it doesn’t matter if you’re bad. The important thing is, it’s going to be special since I’m with you.”

✧ And at that moment, you could feel your heart explode from all these soft emotions.

✧ Shoto was naturally smart. He could finish a lot of tasks in a few hours without getting distracted. That was his strategy ever since he was in Elementary. Getting things done right away and getting flawless remarks and grades on them.

✧ But ever since the two of you got together, he insisted that the two of you would do your school works together. So, every night, whenever there was homework, you would immediately yeet over to Shoto’s room to answer the tasks with him.

✧ It’s really cute. Not only do the two of you get to bond together but, you were helping each other too. It was the ideal relationship.

✧ Shoto is very particular with a lot of fancy things, so he even has this humidifier in his room with your favorite scent so that the both of you can calmly continue your work.  He even has a comforter sprawled upon the floor so that you could sit comfortably. How sweet of him ;w; 

✧ This time around though, the two of you were partnered up for  to answer a elaborate math problem that you were going to present the next day. 

✧ You exceled in your subjects with Math being your weakest point, sometimes even getting unfavorable grades on the subject. Shoto was the exact opposite though. Which wasn’t surprising because he needed to be good for his quirk. How far his fire can go, the trajectory of his ice and all that jazz. 

✧  He wasn’t disappointed that he was partnered with you for this though, despite it being your weakness. In fact he couldn’t be happier. As long as he was spending time with you. 

✧ After reading through the problem and finding the formula, you were already stressed out. Todoroki took notice of this immediately and decided that the two of you should take a break first. He brings you to the convenience store near the dorm. Your hand holding his as he tells you that you could buy any snack you want.

✧ Using his father’s credit card of course.

✧ After coming back from the store, the two of you decided to head straight back to the math problem. It was very very complicated,  especially since the two of you had to divide the work because it was required for the project for the two of you to evenly contribute to it. It was a math problem your braincells couldn’t take anymore.

✧ “Shoto-kun, I can’t take this anymoreee.” You whined, resting your head on his shoulder.

✧ “Come on (Y/N), just a little bit more. We’re almost finished.”

✧  Shoto was finished with his part of the solution, while you were still struggling. It took the whole night to do so but you were able to answer it eventually.

✧  The next day, it was finally time for the presentation. Shoto was able to present his solution perfectly, while you had some slip-ups and mistakes here and there. The both of you didn’t get a good grade because of that... but to him, it didn’t matter.

✧ “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. It’s my fault we got a bad grade.”

✧ “It’s alright (Y/N). It doesn’t matter. As long as I get to experience something different with you and spend time with you every single day, I’m happy and contented. 

✧ You were so blessed to have someone like Todoroki Shoto in your life. What did you to deserve such a precious and kind boyfriend?

-End.  ♡‧₊˚

[clouditae]

First Love | 12

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | alcohol | swearing

Word: 3.8k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

Ari opens the door, tossing her backpack to the floor. You weren’t expecting her to come back so early that when the door loudly creaks from the force of the door opening, you jump in surprise. She looks to you with a triumphant look on her face as she practically yells with the door still closing, “I got an A on my fucking paper!” The door slams shut as she does a weird and awkward dance.

“Good job. I knew you could do it,” you congratulate, saving your work on your computer.

Ari kicks her backpack with no care in the world as to what she has inside. “Let’s celebrate,” she extolls, pulling off her hoodie and tossing it on her bed.

You turn your body to the left where she stands, picking up her backpack and putting it on her bed. “Celebrate?”

“Yeah. It’s Friday, I got a well deserved grade after almost breaking my wrist, and I am in the mood for some good food and a drink or seven.”

“What about Hoseok?” Ever since Hoseok and Ari got together, they’ve been inseparable. You sometimes wonder if you’ll be like that when you get a boyfriend. All couples eventually spend time separately, right? You sometimes feel really disappointed in yourself for not knowing a lot when it comes to relationships.

“He’s staying after class with some of his classmates to study for a test that ends tonight,” she says, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Why hasn’t he taken the test yet?”

“I don’t know? He seemed really nervous about this test, so all he’s done is study like there’s no tomorrow. I hope he takes it soon because the longer he waits, the harder it will be to answer questions as time ticks by.” Ari shakes her head, walking to her closet and opening the door. “Are you going in sweats?” She looks at you through the mirror.

You blink at her. “We’re actually going?”

She scoffs, “Yeah. I wasn’t joking, Y/N.” She pulls out a red spaghetti strap and a black jacket. Removing her shirt, she slips on her top. “I want food and some drinks.”

You sigh, “Can’t we just order takeout and sneak some alcohol in?”

“And get in trouble?”

You stare at her, contemplating if sneaking alcohol is really worth it. Groaning, you get up from your seat. “How far are we going?” You walk to your closet, opening the door to grab your jeans and whatever black shirt you first grab. There is no patience when it comes to picking outfits. You just blindly pick and go and hope it looks nice on you.

“It’s only down the street,” she exclaims, taking a set at her desk to fix her makeup at her little mirror. Changing clothes, you realize you put on a turtleneck. You didn’t know you have this type of shirt in your closet. You’ve seen a lot of professional looks with turtlenecks, but you can’t remember buying this and found no reason to wear it. “That’s a cute look,” Ari suddenly says, her body turned towards you. You watch her get up from her seat, making her way towards you. She unbuttons your pants and pushes the lower half of your shirt in your pants. “You’ll look even cuter like this. Plus you have a nice ass, so show it off.” Your hands unconsciously go to your butt, suddenly feeling self conscious. Ari buttons your pants and tells you, “No one will look. You’ll be sitting the whole time.” She pulls your shirt out just a bit to give it a baggy look. “There. Now your cute ass will get attention, but you’ll just look like you’re not interested and they’ll be sad not to have the opportunity to speak to the gorgeous Y/N.”

Ari just seems to have a way with words.

After a few more minutes of double checking for everything, the two of you leave your dorm and head the usual route towards the front parking lot. As you pass Yoongi and Hoseok’s door Ari yells, “Let’s go get you drunk and a boyfriend, Y/N!”

You place your hand over her mouth. “Why are you yelling?” you whisper, checking behind you to see if anyone heard her.

Ari removes your hand from over her mouth. “I’m showing Yoongi you’re better off without him,” she replies, the two of you walking past the stairwell and into the hallway where the exit to the front is.

“What makes you think Yoongi is even in his room?” The two of you are halfway down the hall when the sound chatter can be heard as you pass a group of doors.

Ari shrugs. “The dude never goes anywhere besides class and his room right?” You don’t know yourself. A majority of the time you spent with him was either in his room or somewhere else that not many people from campus went to. “I want him to know you’re about to get dicked down and he’s missing out on a fine ass girl.”

“I’m about to what?” What does that even mean?

Ari laughs as the two of you exit the building and head down the stairwell. “Not today obviously, but it’s to make him jealous.”

“We don’t even know if he likes me,” you counter, following a group of students walking towards the front gate entrance.

“Opposites attract, Y/N.”

“I’m attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me.”

Ari loops her arm through yours. “You never know. He might have a crush on shy, innocent types.”

“Wishful thinking, Ari,” you say, shaking your head as the two of you reach the sidewalk and make your way up towards the bar that sits at the corner. There are a few other students a bit up ahead making their way towards the bar as well, their loud chatter can be heard from where you and Ari walk.

“So, how’s your project coming along? Don’t you have like two weeks left?” The two of you pass a hotel. The neon light hanging on the window to the reception flickers every few seconds. Everything is quiet in that building until you pass the seafood restaurant where you can see a few people laughing from the window. It looks more lively than the hotel.

“It’s going great surprisingly.” You rub your arm for a little more warmth. “I just have to finish my body and conclusion and then sum it a bit more for the poster.”

“Damn. So you’ll have it done earlier than anyone when it comes to projects,” Ari whistles.

“People finish their projects a week or more before the due date,” you say, the two of you are now closer to the bar where you know heat will be.

“People who are smart finish weeks before. The rest of us procrastinate,” she laughs, shaking her head. The bar is now within a few feet when Ari says through chattering teeth, “We’re running. I can’t do this anymore.” You don’t have much of an option as she begins to jog towards the building, dragging you with her. Pushing through the door the smell of nachos and burgers invade your senses, your stomach rumbling in hunger. Ari removes her arm from around yours, pushing you towards the seating area. “Go find us a table. I’ll grab the food and drinks.”

Walking further into the building, you look around for an empty table. The walls where the tables and booths occupy are yellow while the brick wall has the kitchen and cashier against it. You scan the room in search of someone leaving, but to your luck you don’t have to look long until you find an empty booth at the far end of the room. You make your way over as another group of people get up from their table, gathering their backpacks after what looks like studying. You take a seat just as Ari makes her way over holding two bottles.

As Ari takes a seat across from you, she hands you the clear bottle with a green substance inside and says, “Flavored alcohol tastes so much better. Plus you’ll want more.”

Thanking your roommate, you take the glass and take a swig of it. It tastes like apples. “Has Hoseok started his test yet?”

“Yeah. When I last texted him, he was getting ready to start the test. He’s nervous and I told him you said "good luck”. He gave me one of those crying faces.“

"I hope he passes,” you mutter as you bring the rim of the glass to your lips. After another drink you add, “Is he coming here after his test or will he just go back to his room?”

Ari thinks for a moment, opening her mouth to answer when the speaker above says, “Ari, please come to the front. Your order is ready.”

She gets up and makes her way to the counter at the front where your food is waiting. From afar you watch her grab the tray, say a few words to the worker and make her way back to your table. “He’s just going to go back to the dorms. He sounded tired over the phone when we last talked,” she answers, putting the tray down and taking her seat.

On the tray is a plate of a greasy cheeseburger and fries; the other plate has nachos with jalapenos. “You got a burger, too?”

“Yeah. I was just going to get nachos for the both of us because it’s a lot, but I was craving a burger, too.” She shrugs. “We’ll share both and have the night of our lives.” You chuckle, grabbing a chip with a jalapeno barely hanging on by the string of cheese that’s attempting to escape from your mouth.

You grab the plate that holds the burger and fries, pulling it towards you. Picking up the knife that’s placed between the fries and greasy stack, you cut the burger in half, careful to not give one side more than the other. “Midterms are starting in two weeks, do you know if all your classes will have them or just some?” you ask, pushing the plate back to the middle for Ari to reach.

She groans, “All of them are going to have a midterm. One of them is a fucking paper that has to be seven pages long.”

“Seven? Which class is that?” You also wonder when she was given the information about the paper, and how long she originally had to write it. Ari is a big procrastinator. If she can avoid doing work immediately, she will and give herself a few days to work on it with all the stress jumping at her.

She shoves a few fries in her mouth in an aggressive manner. “Modern Asia,” she answers, mouth full of chewed up food. “He gave us this big list of documents we need to pick from and watch. Then we have to write a paper on it and answer the questions he has for them. There are seven documents on six different countries.”

“Which one are you picking?” You grab a few nacho chips, flipping it so that the cheese wraps around and coats the chip more.

“Uzbekistan.” She grabs half of the burger, taking a bite out of the corner. “The People, History, and Culture of Uzbekistan to be more specific. It’s on YouTube so it won’t be a mission to find the video, but a big distraction because it’s on YouTube.” Ari takes another bite, bigger this time, of her burger. “This is really good.” She looks up to you. “Should I buy another one?”

“We haven’t made a dent in the nachos yet. Plus we still have the fries to finish,” you inform, clearly shocked that Ari’s ready for more.

“Take a bite of the damn burger and you’ll know what I mean,” she commands, gesturing to your half that sat on your plate in all its glory.

You roll your eyes, doing as told. You can’t deny that it smells amazing and your mouth waters at the endless possibilities as to what it’ll taste like. When you take that bite, it’s like taking a bite out of heaven. Sure you’re being over dramatic, but you totally understand Ari wanting to buy another one. “I’ll go get one,” you tell her, getting up from your seat and taking your bag with you while Ari laughs.

You get to the back of the small line, opening your bag and pulling out your wallet. “Next in line,” a voice calls from behind the counter. You take a step forward, now being two people behind before you’re called. You have to double check to make sure you brought your money with you. There were a few times when you just leave your money at home and have to go the day without eating when you’re stuck on campus all day. You get lucky sometimes when Ari would bring you your missing items. The worker calls for the next customer to come up.

“Y/N?” You look behind you to see a familiar face. A familiar face with a name you cannot remember. It’s your partner during beer pong. The handsome guy who any person would want to date. He’s easygoing and funny and friendly, and you cannot remember his name.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound lost because his name is not coming to mind. “How are you?”

“Good, good. A friend of mine and I were tired from studying, so we decided to come here for a few drinks and some food.” A voice calls for the next person; the two of you move up. “What about you?”

“My friend got an A on her paper. She wanted to go out and celebrate.”

“That’s awesome! I’d do the same if I were her,” he laughs, his smile actually making your heart race as he runs his fingers through his jet black locks.

“Hey, Hanbin,” a male voice calls, coming up to the line. Hanbin. That’s his name. “There’s no empty tables. You just wanna eat outside or bounce?”

“Really? Ah, man.” You watch as Hanbin looks around the building in hopes of someone leaving their table.

“You can eat with us,” you say before you can even stop yourself from letting the words escape your mouth.

Hanbin and his friend look at you. “Really?” the stranger asks.

You can’t say no. You already messed up, and saying no will only make you look like a jerk. “Yeah.” Good job Y/N.

“We don’t want to impose,” Hanbin tells you, looking a little nervous.

“It’s okay.” Where is all this false confidence coming from? “It’s up to you if you want,” you say, turning around and pointing in the direction you and Ari are sitting. “We’re over there if you want to join.”

“Next in line.”

You turn back around and make your way up to the cashier. You give your order for the second burger you and Ari are about to devour, paying and making your way towards your booth where Ari finishes her half of the burger. “I messed up,” you rush, grabbing your drink and placing it on her side of the table.

“Messed up? What’d you do?” Ari asks, suddenly being pushed further in the booth as you scoot in. “What are you doing?”

“Remember Hanbin? The boy I told you was my partner at the party?” You grab the plates and pull them closer to the two of you.

“Yeah?”

“Well he was standing in line behind me and we had small talk and the next thing I know, I invited him and his friend to sit with us,” you profess in a shaky voice.

“You just invited two guys over?” she asks in an ambivalent tone.

You can see her from the corner of your eye staring at you as you babble, “Yes.”

Her hand moves to her chest. “Has my little Y/N grown up?”

You turn to look at her in surprise. “You’re not mad?”

She laughs, “No. Why would I be?”

“Because you’re dating Hoseok and it’ll look bad if someone saw you chatting with a guy?” Isn’t that how it works? You’ve seen it in movies and it always leads to problems—eventually solved.

“Hoseok trusts me just like I trust him. I’d never cheat on him, and we’re not stopping each other from having opposite sex friends.” She shrugs, looking behind you. “Is that them?”

You turn to look in the direction her eyes are focused on. Hanbin and his friend stand by the soda fountain, getting their drinks. “Yeah. The boy with the green jacket is Hanbin and I don’t know the other guy’s name,” you confess, wondering if it’s rude to not introduce yourself. Then again, he didn’t either.

Ari’s voice is now closer to you as she speaks, “Don’t tell Hoseok but he’s really cute. Why not date him? Tall, fit and handsome? That’s a whole package.” She suddenly gasps, “His package must be—”

You cover her mouth with your hand. “Do not finish that sentence,” you sputter, glancing around to see if anyone heard you. To your luck no one’s paying attention to you and your perverted friend.

Aris swats your hands away. “He’s cute, Y/N. And if he comes over and sits with us, then he’s interested in you, too.”

“Or he’s looking for a seat because there is none,” you counteract, grabbing a nacho and shoving it in your mouth. “Also, I’m not interested in him.”

“Guess we’ll see.” A voice speaks over the speaker, calling your name. “Time to devour a delicious burger.” She slaps her hand on your shoulder, pushing you out of the booth.

Groaning, you get up and make your way to the pick-up counter, telling the person your name and getting your order. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Hanbin asks, suddenly appearing next to you to grab his own order.

You almost jump, gripping the plate tighter. He looks to you unsure if he’s allowed to follow. You can feel your heart racing. This is strange. Ari’s words are just getting to you. “Yeah,” you swallow, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s fine.” You are not growing feelings for him.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I really wanted to eat some chicken strips,” he laughs, his voice sounding smoky.

Oh God you like him.

You, Hanbin and Matthew, he tells you, shaking your hand so enthusiastically, make your way towards your booth. Ari is busy stuffing her face with fries to even notice you three until you set the plate down and take a seat next to her. She looks up, eyes wide and fries sticking out of her mouth. Thankfully she waves rather than talk with her mouth full of food. Matthew gets in first followed by Hanbin.

“Uh.” You glance at Ari who quickly chews on her food. “This is my friend and roommate, Ari.” You point to Matthew. “Ari, this is Matthew and this is Hanbin,” you finish, pointing to the boy in front of you.

“Hello,” Ari starts, once she’s chewed and swallowed her fries, “I’m really hungry, and these fries are good.”

Matthew gasps, “They are.” He turns to Hanbin. “I told you this place has some fucking good food.”

Ari looks to Hanbin as if he offended her. “You’ve never been here before?” He looks at her with a lost expression. He clearly doesn’t know how to respond. To his luck, however, he doesn’t have to as Ari adds, “It’s a good thing you have a friend like Matthew to introduce you to nirvana.”

The brunette haired boy snaps his fingers, pointing to your friend. “Exactly.”

“What’s your major?” Ari asks, grabbing the second plate that has the burger to cut it in half.

“Biomedical sciences,” he answers, taking a bite out of his taco.

“Oh? That sounds interesting. What exactly do you study?” Ari rests her arms on the table, leaning forward. The burger no longer exists to her.

“Just kind of the understanding of biological and chemical systems of the human body. What about you?”

“Linguistics, and Y/N here is a photography major.”

Matthew’s eyes are now on you. “Oh another art type.”

“Art type?” you question, finally taking bites out of your half of the first burger.

“Yeah. Photography creates art; stand-still pieces. There’s art galleries for photography, right?” Matthew glances between you and Ari.

“Yeah, I believe so,” Ari replies, popping a fry into her mouth.

“Plus Hanbin here is also an art type,” he begins, nudging his friend with his elbow, “Film.”

“You’re a film major?” You look to him, completely invested in his stories you want him to tell.

He gives you a shy smile. “Yeah.”

And just like that the rest of the night is a blur. You four eat and definitely drink. Ari and Matthew are drunk while you and Hanbin are buzzed. You mainly have conversations with Hanbin half the time the four of you sit. The two of you talk about film and photography—things you do and try to make your work look better. Eventually Matthew’s girlfriend comes and picks him up. Ari gushes at how cute she is and you have to apologize for how… gushy she is. Matthew’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind much as she smiles and walks a drunk Matthew out of the building.

After a while you and Hanbin decide it’s time to head out. Hanbin offers to walk you back to your dorm, and rather than politely decline his offer you say, “Please.”

Now you and Hanbin are chuckling at Ari as she whines about how much she loves Hoseok. Reaching your room you unlock the door for Ari to stumble in and get ready for bed. You keep the door cracked open as you look back at Hanbin.

“Thank you for the walk back.”

He shakes his head. “No problem. With everyone being drunk, you never know who’s trying to start something.”

You smile. “Still, I appreciate it.”

His smile is even bigger as he points to the way you just come from. “So I can head back the way we came?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Guess I should head out. Be sure to give Ari some water and medicine for her headache if she gets one.” You nod. “We should do this again,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Definitely. Goodnight and have a safe drive home,” you say, voice quieter than before.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he mumbles, and it’s so sudden.

An instant that makes your heart race and realization hit as he presses his lips to your forehead, leaving before you can say anything. You touch the spot where his lips met your skin.

You have a crush on him.

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed?  A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

[prouvaireafterdark]

See Something You Like? - Malex Sex Shop AU Part 1/2

It’s FINALLY here: the Malex Sex Shop AU you’ve all been waiting for! Well, the first half anyway (Part Two will be out soon!)

I dedicate this fic to my friendly neighborhood Thigh Riding Anon™️, who inspired this fic with her galaxy brain prompt, and all of you who have been patiently waiting for me to finish this absolute monster of a smut fic. I hope you enjoy it! 💜😘

Also on AO3!

***

When Michael moved to California to start his PhD in agricultural engineering, he’d grossly underestimated how expensive the move would be. The stipend that came with his teaching assistantship just barely covers the rent on his studio apartment, and finding a roommate off Craigslist that’s desperate enough to live in such close quarters isn’t exactly an option considering how many alien skeletons Michael’s got in his closet. The vegetables he’s planning on growing in his complex’s shared community garden will help, but if he wants to eat any time soon he’s gonna have to find a part time job.

Enter Jackie and Kris, the delightful middle-aged lesbian couple who live next door and share Michael’s enthusiasm for sustainable gardening and the occasional midnight smoke.

They get to talking one night while passing a bong back and forth over the railing that divides their balconies, first about DIY organic fertilizer and then about Michael’s degree. He lets spill in a moment of weakness that his coursework is a breeze, but he’s worried he’ll run out of money before he can finish the program. As embarrassed as he is about the confession, it ends up saving his life.

Turns out, Jackie and Kris own a sex shop named Pandora’s Box around the corner and have been looking for some help running the storefront while they focus on expanding their online business and organizing safe sex workshops for the local queer and BDSM communities. The hours would be flexible around Michael’s schedule and all they really would need him to do is stand behind the register, ring people up, and answer questions about their products with “affability and professionalism.”

It’s maybe not the work he imagined himself doing when he moved to California for grad school, but for $15/hr, Michael really can’t afford to say no. He sits for an official interview the very next day and leaves Jackie’s home office with a new job and a pot brownie wrapped in tin foil, eager to get started on both.

Monday afternoons at Pandora's Box are the best. They’re notoriously slow so Michael gets to work his shift alone, which gives him ample time to grade the assignments he procrastinated on all weekend while he sits behind the counter.

It’s a Monday afternoon, in fact, about a year and a half later, when Michael hears the bell above the door chime softly to announce the arrival of a customer who would change his life forever.

The first thing Michael notices when he lifts his head from the stack of exams on the counter is the black leather jacket that’s stretched across the man’s broad shoulders. When Michael’s eyes flick up to get a look at the man’s face, he’s met with sharp cheekbones, beautifully tan skin, and a pair of trendy but understated sunglasses. He looks a little lost—unsurprising, since Michael’s certain he would have remembered it if he’d ever seen a man that pretty walk into his shop before—but when he realizes Michael’s looking at him, he flips his sunglasses up onto his artfully messy dark hair and smiles.

And oh, what a smile it is—the most beautiful one Michael has ever seen, soft and sweeter that it has any right to be, his full lips capturing Michael’s attention with ease. His heart pounds in his chest as their eyes lock together, and if Michael didn’t know any better, he’d think he’s just fallen in love with a perfect stranger.

Before Michael can do more than shoot him a dazed smile in return, the man disappears down an aisle.

As a general rule, Michael doesn’t talk to customers who don’t approach him for help first. It’s best practice in a store that sells pornography and sex toys—most customers don’t want to be questioned about their kinks, and those that do usually already know what they’re looking for—but the pull he feels toward this man is undeniable. He’s curious about him for reasons he can’t explain, and as his feet carry him off in the direction the man went, Michael decides not to question it.

Michael weaves casually through the aisles until he finds the man staring up at the floor to ceiling wall display of dildos and other anal toys—because of course he does. He sends a prayer to a god he doesn’t believe in that this man isn’t buying something for his girlfriend before he steps in line beside him.

“See something you like?” Michael asks, toning down his customer service voice into something approaching normal human speech.

Up close, he can see the man has a septum piercing, which glints a little in the light. Michael’s seen plenty of people with body jewelry come through this store, but he’s never really thought of it as cute until now.

The man smiles at him, a little shy, but Michael’s not so distracted this time that he misses the way his eyes flick over his body in naked interest, and it leaves him feeling a little hot under the collar.

“I’m not sure yet,” the stranger answers.

Even his voice is nice, Michael notes, deeper than he expects and smooth like honey.

Michael nods in understanding. He gets it—this wall can certainly be intimidating, even for someone who’s been to a sex shop before. He looks the man over again, taking in his charmingly flushed cheeks, and wonders if it’s his first time in a place like this. If maybe he needs a little help after all.

It’s a good thing Michael’s an expert, huh?

He doesn’t want to come at him too strongly, though. Encountering an overbearing sales associate isn’t any more fun than being one, and Michael certainly isn’t looking to push the guy passed his personal boundaries. He may be smitten, but he’s not an asshole.

“Well, if you have any questions about any of our products, my name’s Michael,” he says, flashing him a warm smile.

He’s about to go off in search of a nearby display to straighten up so he can give the man some space, but his voice catches Michael’s attention once more.

“And if I don’t have questions?” the man asks, and when Michael turns to look at him there’s a real smile tugging at his lips this time. “What should I call you then?”

Michael laughs, shaking his head as he shoots back, “Okay, smartass, what should I call you?”

For a single, horrible second after his own words reach his ears, Michael thinks he’s gone too far, but the sudden burst of anxiety in his chest turns out to be for nothing—the man’s grin only grows wider.

“Alex,” he says, and to Michael’s surprise he holds his hand out for him.

Alex’s palm is warm against his when he shakes it, and Michael can’t help but wonder how it would feel anchored in his curls or clutching tight to the skin of his hips.

“So, Alex,” Michael starts, emboldened by the introduction. He finds he likes the way Alex’s name feels in his mouth. “What are you in the market for today?”

Alex flushes a little and it’s so endearing Michael has to bite the inside of his bottom lip to keep from smiling.

“That’s the thing—I don’t really know,” Alex answers honestly. “There’s just so many options.”

“Okay, well, let’s start with an easier question: are you shopping for yourself or a significant other?” he asks, and, yeah, maybe he’s planning on filing the answer to his question away for later. Sue him.

Alex looks at him like maybe he suspects ulterior motives, but Michael shamelessly holds his gaze.

“No boyfriend,” Alex says, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I’m looking for something for myself.”

“Fantastic,” Michael smiles, before he slips a little deeper into salesman mode. “So, judging by the aisle we’re standing in, I’m gonna take a leap and say that you’re looking for a toy you can use for internal anal stimulation. Is that right?”

“Yeah. Think you can help me out with that?” Alex asks, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Definitely,” Michael answers with a smirk before he turns to the wall display. “As you can see, we have a pretty wide selection; you name it, we’ve probably either got it in stock or can have it shipped in three to five business days. Is there a particular price point you’re aiming for?”

Alex seems to think about it. “I’m not really looking to spend more than $100, but I could go up to $150 if it’ll change my life.”

“I can work with that,” Michael assures him. “Any other parameters I should keep in mind?”

“I’ve read that jelly toys can be dangerous, so definitely not anything made out of that,” Alex says, and Michael’s glad to hear he’s done his research. Jelly toys are frustratingly popular because they’re so cheap and Michael usually has to put in a little work to talk people out of buying them.

“Oh yeah, fuck that jelly shit,” Michael agrees, and Alex’s startled laugh makes his heart skip. “They’re impossible to sanitize properly and they’re full of toxic chemicals—you wouldn’t believe the horror stories I’ve heard about them since I started working here. If you’re looking for something with a softer texture, medical grade silicone is really the only way to go. Just make sure you stick to water-based lube or else you could ruin your toy.”

Alex nods thoughtfully, like he’s read that too.

“Glass and metal are also good options,” Michael continues. “They obviously feel a lot harder inside you, but they’re easy to clean, you don’t have to be as careful about what lube you use, and they’re naturally waterproof. They’re excellent for temperature play, too, if you’re into that.”

“Never tried it,” Alex confesses.

“It’s not for everyone, but it can be a fun time,” Michael says, recalling the scorching summer afternoon he spent fooling around with an ice cube tray and a girl he met on Tinder. “So, your options are metal, glass, and silicone. Any preference?”

Michael notices Alex’s eye catching on a set of stainless steel plugs, but he answers, “Silicone for now, I think.”

“Good choice,” Michael replies easily. “So, now that we know what material you’re looking for, let’s talk about your ideal experience. What are you looking to get out of your purchase?”

“An orgasm?” Alex answers, his confusion evident.

Michael laughs. “Sorry, I meant—how would you like to get there? What sort of sensation are you looking for?”

Alex looks a little lost at the question, so Michael turns to plan B.

“See, this one, for example,” Michael says, pointing to a familiar black prostate massager, “is great for when you wanna get off fast and hard. It’s not too thick, so you don’t have to spend a ton of time opening yourself up for it, and the curve puts the tip of it right up on your p-spot. It’s also got a bunch of different vibration settings and get this: It’s waterproof.”

Alex hums in interested acknowledgement, though Michael notes that the longer he talks, the more Alex’s attention is fixed on him, not the toy.

Feeling bold, Michael adds, “I’d advise caution if you’ve got thin walls though.”

“Why, does it make a lot of noise?” Alex asks curiously.

A slow grin spreads across Michael’s lips. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “But you will.”

Michael watches Alex try and fail to suppress a smile, his full bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“You seem pretty sure of that,” Alex says when he releases it. “That from firsthand experience, or are you just a really good salesman?”

Michael laughs, equal parts delighted by Alex’s flirting and embarrassed by the memory his question brings to mind.

“What?” Alex asks, a smile building on his face.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you,” Michael hesitates, his face heating up just thinking about it. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Aw, come on,” Alex goads him. “Don’t be such a tease.”

Michael gasps in mock offense. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but a tease isn’t one of them.”

“That mean you’re gonna tell me what’s got you blushing like that after all?” Alex asks.

“I’m not blushing,” Michael protests, even though he definitely is.

Alex raises an eyebrow at him. It’s stupidly attractive.

With a huff, Michael considers his options. He doesn’t usually give personal anecdotes like this to customers, but there’s just something about Alex that makes Michael want to give him whatever he wants.

“Fuck it, why not?” Michael says to himself.

Alex smiles victoriously and settles in to listen.

“So, about a year ago, I came in to work and found this box sitting on the table in the break room, which was filled with a bunch of different toys from the company that makes that massager. I asked my boss about it and she said the company sent her a bunch of free samples.”

“Does that happen often?” Alex interrupts to ask. “Companies just send you free stuff?”

“Eh, sometimes, if it’s from a new line of toys that a company wants retailers to hype up,” Michael explains. “It helps that my boss Jackie’s wife Kris has a pretty popular blog where she tests and rates toys, so she gets free stuff all the time.”

“Huh,” Alex says. “So I’m guessing you took one after your shift?”

“Oh yeah,” Michael nods. “Tried it out as soon as I got home.”

“How was it?”

“Intense is about the only word that covers it,” Michael answers. “Those vibrations can be really powerful, it was like nothing else I’d ever tried before. Definitely one of my top ten solo orgasms of all time.”

“Not number one?” Alex asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I came in, like, a minute, so no, not quite,” Michael laughs.

“Is that the embarrassing part?” Alex asks. “That you came so fast?”

“Not quite,” Michael winces, his cheeks flushing. “As I was coming, I screamed so loud that the little old lady whose living room is on the other side of my bedroom called the cops on me. Apparently, she thought I was being murdered.”

“Oh no,” Alex laughs, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “Not exactly the happy ending I was after.”

Alex laughs again, but there’s heat behind his eyes too when he asks, a moment later, “Not usually a screamer, I take it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Michael winks.

“Mm,” Alex hums thoughtfully. He looks Michael right in the eye as he asks, “Well, what if I don’t want to get off that fast? What if I want to make it last?”

Michael tries not to smile as he gets back to business.

“Well, I should mention that this massager does also have softer levels of vibration intensity, which I only discovered after Officer ACAB knocked on my door,” Michael says.

Alex laughs before asking incredulously, “You didn’t read the instructions?”

“Uh, no,” Michael admits. “I’m more of a ‘take things apart and see how they work’ kinda guy, I’ve never been big on reading the directions.”

“Even after your little misadventure?” Alex asks.

“Hey, don’t knock my process. I got a fantastic orgasm out of that ‘misadventure,’” Michael reminds him.

“How could I forget?” Alex asks, shooting Michael a look that really tests his self-restraint.

Michael huffs a laugh and reaches up to scratch the back of his own neck so he doesn’t do something stupid, like push Alex against the fucking dildo display and kiss that look off his face.

“So, anyway,” Michael starts, shifting the topic back toward the task at hand, “you can either learn from my mistakes or you can try something that doesn’t have vibrations at all. We’ve got a great selection of dildos in all shapes and sizes.”

“Do any of them come with a story?” Alex asks cheekily.

Michael snickers in spite of himself. “Maybe,” he says noncommittally. “Let’s see what we’ve got in stock.”

Michael hums as he looks over the display, searching for another recommendation he can make, when his eye catches on a purple dildo with ribbing along the shaft.

“This one’s a good starter dildo,” he says, pointing it out. “It’s a pretty modest size, but the ribbing feels really nice and there’s a suction cup on the bottom if you wanna stick it somewhere and fuck yourself onto it. There’s also a few by the same company that have a hole that you can slide a bullet vibrator into if you wanna get something that can do both.”

“Have you tried them all?” Alex asks.

Michael laughs, looking up at the expansive display of dildos. “Not all of them,” he says, glancing over to Alex as he continues, “but the employee discount here is very generous and, as you already know, sometimes we get free shit. I’ve built up a bit of a collection since I started working here.”

“I see,” Alex replies, the corner of his mouth turning up before he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Michael tracks the movement hungrily when Alex releases it a moment later to ask, “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Depends,” Michael shrugs, aiming for nonchalance even though he can feel himself chubbing up in his jeans.

“On?”

“On how full I wanna feel,” Michael answers, and there’s no mistaking the heat that blazes in Alex’s eyes at those words, nor the sudden intake of breath that fills his chest.

If Alex wants him half as much as it looks like he does, Michael doesn’t even care if he gets fired for where this conversation is headed, so long as it ends with Alex’s hands on him.

“See, sometimes all I’m looking for is enough internal stimulation to get the job done,” Michael elaborates, his eyes watching Alex closely. “When I feel like that, I’ll use that prostate massager I showed you earlier on myself.”

Alex’s eyes flick over to the sleek black toy still sitting on the shelf that they’d just discussed.

“And the other times?” Alex asks when he tears his eyes away.

“Other times… other times I really wanna feel it,” Michael purrs, taking a step closer. Alex’s eyes drop right to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip, and Michael can’t stop himself from asking, “You ever get like that, Alex? Like you just need something thick and heavy filling you up, so deep you’ll be feeling it for days?”

“Yeah,” Alex rasps.

“You wanna know what I fuck myself with then?” he asks.

Alex nods, eyes still on Michael’s mouth.

Michael gives him a sly grin before he backs up a few steps to find the sample of the eight inch galaxy dildo he treated himself to a few months ago. Alex follows him, as if they’re connected by an invisible string.

“This one,” he says, removing it from the shelf and offering it up for Alex’s inspection.

Alex takes it from him, his eyes passing over it with interest as he tests the give of the silicone with his fingers. Michael wonders if he’s imagining what it would look like inside him. He hopes he is.

“It might not look like much compared to some of the fucking horse cocks we sell here, but it’s thick,” Michael says, his cock hardening further the more he thinks about it, the longer Alex stands there holding it. “Takes me some time to work up to it, but it’s always worth it when I do.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, eyes fixed where he’s shifting his hold on the dildo to measure it’s thickness with his fingers.

“Yeah,” Michael breathes, watching how Alex wraps his thumb and forefinger in a tight circle around the toy. They only just touch around its girth.

Alex hums to himself, sounding pleased, and Michael’s gut churns with the need to hear that sound again.

“I bet this stretches you out nice, huh,” Alex wonders a moment later, and with the way he stares at Michael then, like he’s trying to picture how he would look stuffed full, his rim taught over the silicone, he just knows Alex isn’t speaking generically.

“Yeah, it does,” Michael agrees quietly, trying not to squirm under the intensity of Alex’s gaze.

“How do you use it?” Alex asks him, stoking the flames inside him further.

“If you play your cards right, you just might find out,” Michael shoots back.

“You’d let me watch?” Alex asks, a smile teasing at his lips, and it’s all Michael can do not to get lost in the idea of riding that toy while Alex watches with his hand around his cock.

“Think I’d let you do more than that,” Michael admits.

Alex full-on grins at that, but before he can open his mouth to reply someone clears their throat behind them.

Michael’s heart seizes in his chest as he whips around to see Jenna Cameron, a regular customer and occasional drinking buddy of his, standing with her thumbs tucked into her police-issue gun belt. Michael can feel his erection flag at the sight of her.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some service around here, Guerin?” Cameron asks, somehow managing to look annoyed and amused simultaneously. He notices there’s a discreet black plastic bag dangling from her fingers. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t hear anyone else come in,” Michael apologizes, trying and failing to keep a blush off his face.

“I can see that,” she answers with a pointed glance at Alex.

Michael takes an instinctive step away from him and clears his throat.

“I’ve gotta—“ he says to Alex, jerking his thumb behind him.

“Yeah,” Alex nods, eyes on his shoelaces. It makes the pleasure that had been coiling in his belly sour further.

“I’ll be right back,” Michael tells him, soft enough that Cameron won’t overhear.

The smile Alex gives him in return is encouraging enough that Michael’s fairly certain he won’t disappear if he leaves, so he follows Cameron back toward the register, all the while pointedly ignoring the smirk he can feel her directing at the side of his face.

He walks around the other side of the cash wrap and crosses his arms over his chest before he asks her, without an ounce of enthusiasm, “What do you want?”

“Damn, you’re really earning that employee of the month trophy aren’t you, Guerin?” she jokes, tossing the bag on the table. “I bought a harness this weekend, but it was broken when I took it out of the box. Receipt’s in the bag.”

Michael takes the box the leather strap-on harness came in out of the bag along with the receipt.

“Do you want a refund or an exchange?”

“Refund,” she says. “I’m thinking about getting one of those strapless ones instead.”

“You should talk to Kris, she’s got opinions about those,” he says as he starts scanning the receipt.

“Oh?” Cameron asks. “Is she here?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “You can catch her at the bondage workshop she’s running later though.”

“Perfect,” she replies before leaning forward onto the counter on her elbows. “So are you gonna tell me who the hottie with the nose ring you were talking to is?”

“Why, so you can find out if he’s got any priors?” Michael jokes, not taking his eyes off his task.

“Very funny,” Cameron deadpans. “You fuck him yet?”

“None of your business,” Michael answers.

“So that’s a no, then,” she smirks, and Michael lets out a long-suffering sigh in response.

“Don’t you have places to be? Donuts to eat?” he asks, pushing her return receipt hastily in her direction.

Before Cameron can answer, the front door swings open and in walks a short middle-aged woman with a dark brown pixie cut carrying an iced coffee and a stack of papers.

Michael startles at the sight of her, realizing it must be later in his shift than he’d thought—exactly how long had he stood there talking to Alex?—but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Kris!” Michael calls to her. “Perfect timing, Cam’s got some strap-on questions for you.”

“Well, I’ve got some strap-on answers,” Kris answers cheerfully as she walks around them to drop the stack of papers—freshly-printed but yet-to-be-folded safe sex pamphlets, Michael notices—onto the counter next to the second register. “Step into my office, baby girl.”

Cameron shoots Michael a look before she steps to the side to talk to Kris, who’s leaning patiently against the side of the cash wrap.

With Cameron finally out of his hair but Kris close enough to notice him leave, Michael starts planning his escape so he can find Alex again, but it turns out he doesn’t need one. When he looks up after putting Cam’s broken harness in the bin under the counter, he sees the man in question approaching his register with a familiar black box in his hands.

“I was gonna wait for you,” Alex explains as he sets the box on the counter, “but I’m actually supposed to be meeting my brother soon.”

“Shame,” Michael says, wishing they had more time. “I was looking forward to finishing that conversation.”

Alex glances covertly at Kris and Cameron before he leans a hair closer and says, “Don’t know that it was the conversation you were hoping to finish.”

Michael blushes, casting a look at Kris and Cameron to make sure they’re too engrossed in their conversation to notice when he leans in a little further and says, low so only Alex will hear, “What can I say? I’m very committed to customer satisfaction.”

Alex laughs, a bright and happy sound that makes Michael’s heart feel strangely full, before he asks, “You charm all your customers like this?”

“No,” Michael says honestly. “Not even a little bit.”

Alex looks at him for a long minute, trying to spot the lie, and when he finds none he merely shakes his head with an incredulous smile.

“Lucky me,” he says.

Michael winks at him before he turns his attention to the box on the counter, shifting it in his hands until he finds the barcode. He usually never comments on his customers’ purchases, but with this one he simply can’t resist.

“Went with the prostate massager, huh?” Michael asks, as he rings him up.

“What can I say?” Alex answers, a smile creeping onto his face. “You made me curious.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” Michael says.

“No,” Alex replies, and the way he looks at him then makes Michael wonder if they’re still talking about the massager. “I don’t think I will.”

Michael smiles at him before he tells him his total. Alex inserts the end of his card in the reader and his receipt prints a brief moment later.

“Can you sign here?” Michael asks, passing Alex the merchant’s copy of his receipt and the green pen he’d been grading with earlier.

“Mhm,” Alex hums, plucking the pen from his fingers and signing his name in a delicate script.

Michael ducks under the counter to find a bag adequately sized for Alex’s purchase before he places the box inside it along with Alex’s copy of the receipt.

“You’re all set,” Michael says, pushing the box in Alex’s direction.

“Thanks,” Alex smiles, holding the merchant copy of the receipt out for Michael to take. “And this is for you.”

Their fingers brush as Michael takes it from him and Michael swears he can feel the tension crackling between them at the simple touch.

“Thanks,” Michael says, mouth a little dry.

Alex glances back to Kris and Cam before he says, “Have a nice day, Michael.”

“You too,” Michael says, his eyes straying pointedly to the black bag in Alex’s hand.

“Oh, I will,” Alex says, one corner of his lips lifting up into a smile before he turns and heads for the door.

Michael can’t help but watch his ass and those broad shoulders as he leaves.

Once Alex is gone, Michael unfolds the receipt Alex left for him. He’s about to slide it into the folder they keep by the register for receipts when he notices the phone number printed neatly beside Alex’s signature. Below, Alex has also written the words: Hit me up if you want to hear my review.

“You strike out?”

Michael startles, looking up to see Cameron leaning on the counter, a lot closer than she was a moment ago. He sees Kris at the far end, folding her papers into pamphlets for her workshop later.

“Not quite,” Michael grins and pockets the receipt.

[onceuponaloonatic]

so it turned into 8K oops... anyway this is like a samihyo prequel of sorts? please enjoy !!

tw: panic attacks, mentions of abuse, separation anxiety, and vomit

Mina wouldn’t say she loved her job. She didn’t hate it, of course, she had been the one who had decided to become a Japanese literature professor in the first place, but she didn’t love it either. She liked teaching, and all of her students had always raved about how good she was at lecturing and how she always took the time to properly answer their questions. She was fine with writing and grading tests, she always tried to write fair game tests that were designed with the idea most of her students could pass it, provided they put in the work to pass. None of those things ever really bothered, there was only one thing Mina absolutely hated about her job. And that was grading essays.

Since she taught a literature class, she knew she had to assign essays. The logical part of her knew they were important educational tools to help her students further their understanding of literature, but the illogical part of her never wanted to assign them. Because grading them took so much energy and always took so long. “You look like you're having a good time.” She loved Sana. She really did. But she couldn’t help but want to wipe that stupid smirk off of her face as she looked at Mina. Sana taught physics, so essays weren’t something she had to assign very often if at all. Of course Sana still had to grade homework assignments and tests, but they usually were a lot quicker to grade than essays. “I hate you.” Mina rolled her eyes, flipping to the next page. The essay she was grading had so many issues, she could tell it was written at four am probably after a couple cups of coffee. This was one of the reasons she hated teaching the lower-level classes, the essays were always so messy and rushed. “You know I’m joking right?” Sana wrapped her arms around Mina from behind. “I doubt it sometimes.” Mina sighed, relaxing in Sana’s arms. “Did you need something or are you just here to hug me?” “Hug you,” Sana answered easily. “Jihyo is busy with office hours and I needed to hug one of you or I would go crazy.” “My office hours start soon too Sana.” One quick glance to her clock and she knew they would be starting in fifteen minutes. “Don’t you have a lecture soon?” “I do.” Sana yawned. “Just a little longer. You know I didn’t sleep well last night.” “And who’s fault is that?” Mina questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Last night was your idea.” “Well I wasn’t the one who got carried away now am I?” Sana giggled. “I would have been satisfied after one.” “You're lying and you know it.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you have a doctor's appointment after your class today.” “Oh fuck.” Sana cursed. “I forgot.” She let out a loud whine as she tightened her grip on Mina. “I wanted to go home and nap.” 

“We can reschedule.” Mina nodded.

“No. This is important.” Sana sighed. “We’ve been at this for so long. There’s really no point in giving up now.” “I know.” Mina sighed, tilting her head back to look Sana in the eyes. “This isn’t your fault, you know that right?” 

“I know. Who knew having a baby was so difficult.” Sana did have a point. They were already almost four years into trying to have a baby. Originally, Mina had tried to carry, but after running some tests they found out she was infertile. She really hadn’t been expecting that, and it had absolutely crushed her when she found out. They had taken some time away while they decided what to do next. Jihyo had been infertile ever since a car accident when she was young. They had known about that long before trying to have a baby, so they knew if they wanted to have a baby biologically Sana was their only real option. After a while, Sana decided to start trying to get the procedure. They were all already in their mid-thirties when Mina had first tried to get pregnant, and now four years later Sana had reached the point that if she did get pregnant it would be a geriatric pregnancy. It didn’t stop her from trying, but it had inhibited her fertility quite a bit. Waiting to have kids had sounded like a good idea for the three of them when they were young. Since all three of them were professors, they didn’t start with all the money in the world. Over time, it had accumulated and now they were quite comfortable, but it hadn’t started that way. Mina and Jihyo had both been on the fence about kids in the first place, and they had agreed only once they felt completely ready. Sana never wanted to rush them, so she had been patient. Of course, their friends had all had kids already. They would babysit them quite a bit, which usually fulfilled Sana’s desire to be around kids for a while. Once they finally were ready, things were suddenly much harder. They had wasted almost a year and a half with Mina, and between that and deciding to start again with Sana, time had just made things hard. They had agreed that if by the time Sana turned forty she wasn’t pregnant they were going to give up and try to find another way. Adoption was always still possible, they had to remind themselves of that sometimes. “Tell me about it. Who knows though, maybe this time things will be different.” Sana giggled at her statement, kissing her forehead. “It’s nice you think that,” Sana whispered. “I should be getting ready for my class. I love you.” “I love you too. I’ll come to get you after my office hours end and we can walk over to the architecture building together okay?” Sana nodded happily at her statement. The two of them had lucked out, the physical sciences building and the literature building were right next to each other, so seeing each other was always easy. Jihyo on the other hand wasn’t as lucky, as the architecture building was all the way across campus. They all still made an effort to see each other at work, but it was difficult sometimes when Jihyo was almost a fifteen-minute walk away. “Yup. See you then.” Mina gave Sana another kiss as she left.

xx 

Mina had gotten to Sana’s classroom just in time to see the end of her lecture. She had always loved watching Sana talk about physics. Her wife was always so passionate about it, and she always looked so happy talking about things Mina could barely begin to understand. A lot of people were confused when Sana told them her job, thinking she didn’t look like or act like the type to be a physics professor, but Mina knew they were wrong. Sana loved physics, and teaching it had been a life dream of hers. Honestly, it was sometimes funny how different her and Sana’s jobs were. They were both professors, but how their classes were run and what they did was completely different. Sana did research projects, labs, and lectured while Mina did the opposite. She wrote and read theses, read essays, and spent most of her classes debating things with her students. Even the type of student they had were completely different. Sometimes one of Jihyo’s students would end up in one of Sana’s statics classes if she was teaching it that semester, and they could talk about the student at home. Mina sometimes felt jealous, but she also knew it would probably be weird for their students to have both of them when they were married. She also knew it would be weird if one of her students took a class with either of her wives, considering how completely different their departments were. “And make sure you finish problems 10 through 29 before the next class. We will be having a quiz next week over electrostatics and superposition so be sure to study. Have a good weekend!” And just like that students started to rush out of Sana’s class. It was a Friday afternoon, so Mina was sure most of them wanted to get home and let loose for the weekend. Her students were always like that on Fridays too. Some of them hung around after class to ask Sana questions, but Mina just waited for them to eventually trickle out to enter Sana’s classroom. “Hey darling.” Sana greeted her in Japanese. “Give me a moment to get my stuff.” “Of course.” Mina smiled at her, playing with the wedding band on her finger. “Take all the time you need.” Sana gathered a stack of papers off her desk, putting them safe in her work bag before going to erase the white board she had used to write one. Mina would offer her help, but she got a little lost just looking at the whiteboard. Sana’s handwriting was very neat, and she was sure if she had even the slightest clue what was happening in her wife’s class, following along with her work would be easy. But since physics had always gone so far over her head, she was just left to stare at it in confusion. Mina had sat in on one of Sana’s classes once, and she just spent the entire time so confused and struggling to keep up or pay attention. To be fair, the one time Sana sat into one of Mina’s classes, she fell asleep. Neither knew what was going on in the others subjects, but they enjoyed it. 

“Are Hyo’s office hours over yet?” Sana broke her out of her trance. She noticed the whiteboard was completely clean and Sana had her briefcase in one hand. “Oh they are about to be over. You know she always has to have long ones since she is dealing with senior design projects.” Mina looked at her smart watch. Sana and Jihyo had gotten it for her for Christmas. She had recently taken up working out with Momo, and it was nice for keeping track of that type of stuff. Though Sana and Jihyo would always make fun of her when she would obsessively stare at how many calories she burned a day or how many steps she took. She just told them it was nice to know those types of things. “Since it’s the end of the year I’m sure she has an office full of seniors freaking out about their projects.” “Probably. I’m happy the physics department doesn’t have senior design projects. I think Nayeon Unnie’s department has them too and she always gets so stressed this time of year. You think the kids would learn to stop procrastinating.” Sana yawned. “Didn’t you write your entire thesis like a few days before it was due?” Mina giggled at her wife.

“No. I wrote it two weeks before it was due.” Sana rolled her eyes. “Plus it was good anyway.” “It was good.” Mina knew nothing about physics but she knew it had been good enough to get published in some fancy physics journal. She had helped Sana edit it, but still to this day knew nothing of what her thesis was about. Something about string theory. Mina honestly still had no clue. “But you shouldn’t judge the students. You were the same way in college.” “Well I got away without having to panic and go to my teachers’ office hours at the last minute.” Sana mentioned, eyeing Mina. “I’m just that naturally intelligent.” “Uh-huh.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Naturally intelligent. Yeah that’s one way of putting it.” “Hey!” Sana pouted. “I’m kidding. You are very smart baby.” Mina leaned in to kiss Sana’s cheek. “Thank you.” Sana smiled. “You're very smart too.” “In a different way though.” Mina mentioned. “Physics has never made any sense to me.” “Well it’s not like literary analysis is something I have ever been able to do.” Sana giggled. “Literature classes were the bane of my existence in high school.” “I remember. You would always whine to me you had no idea how to write an essay.” Mina laughed, swinging their hands. “I still don’t.” Sana nodded, taking in a deep breath. It was starting to get warmer as summer was fastly approaching. With Mina’s birthday about a week in the past they knew that the weather was just going to get warmer and warmer. “You have written papers that have been published before.” Mina rolled her eyes.

“Yes but those aren’t essays. Writing those is fun, writing essays is not.” Sana answered. 

“You sound like my students. They hate essays too.” Mina giggled.

“Who doesn’t?” “I don’t.” “You hate grading essays.” Sana pointed out. “Grading essays is different.” Mina nodded. “Grading essays involves reading through so much bullshit, it always is so easy to tell who has no idea what’s going on. Plus I hate giving people bad grades.” “Even if they really deserve it?” Sana joked, getting her keycard out once they approached the architecture building so they could get in. “Yeah even then. Failing people isn’t fun.” “Well no it’s not fun, but there’s always that one student who doesn’t take your class seriously and doesn’t do any work and bombs all the tests. They deserve to fail.” Sana swiped her card and they went in. The doors were normally unlocked but since it was late on a Friday not all of them were. Some of the doors had been left unlocked for the students, but only really the ones by the main entrance. Since they always entered at a side entrance closer to Jihyo’s office, they always had to use their faculty key cards to get in. “Well yes I suppose. There was that one kid in my class who never turned in a single essay and left most of his final blank. I obviously had to fail him.” Mina had always liked the architecture building. The outside looked like all the other buildings on campus, but the inside was really pretty. She supposed that made sense for the college of architecture, but it was still nice to see. Jihyo’s office was right by the entrance, and there was a student in her office when they approached. She waved to them through her open door before turning back to the giant sheet of paper in front of her. The student looked tired and stressed, and Mina and Sana could both sympathize with her. Whatever she was working on looked like a lot. After a few minutes she seems to get her question answered, thanking Jihyo and leaving, her paper gathered in her arm and a cup of coffee in her free hand. “Hey baby.” Sana was the first one to give Jihyo a kiss on the cheek. “All done?” “Yup.” Jihyo nodded, stretching her back and looking Sana in the eyes. “Are you ready for your doctor's appointment?” 

“I think so. We’ve done this so many times before I honestly think I’m on autopilot with these things now.” Sana giggled. “Check in, go take a pregnancy test, get a negative, talk to our doctor, get a shot, hope it works, and then go repeat the process when it doesn’t.” 

“You never know. It could work this time.” Mina spoke up as she came in, Jihyo gesturing her over to her side so she could give her a kiss on the cheek. “It could.” Sana blew a chunk of hair out of her face. “But we say that every time.” “We never know though, Mina is right. It could work this time.” “Yeah.” Sana sighed. “We’ll see.” “Giving up is the worst thing we can do. Just stay positive.” Jihyo rubbed Sana’s leg affectionately, giving her the most positive smile she could. “It has to work eventually right?” “I suppose.” Sana hugged Jihyo tighter. “I hope it works soon.” “Me too darling.”

xx 

Sana had established a routine at the doctors appointments. They went the same every time, and after doing this for nearly two years they had just become habitual. At first she was a lot more emotional and excited for them, but now she had learned getting her hopes up too much would just hurt her in the end. She wanted it to work, she wanted it to work so badly, but she also knew she had no control on if it worked or not. The appointment progresses exactly like Sana predicted it would. She had been through this so many times, and who knew how many more times she was going to have to go through it. After it’s over, she makes Mina and Jihyo take her home so she can nap before she has to grade homework and eat dinner. They both happily let her nap, Jihyo going over some projects while Mina prepared dinner. They were used to this, Sana usually got tired after the procedure. They never knew if it was a side effect or it was something more emotionally based, but letting Sana sleep had always been good. “How was your day?” Mina hummed as she cooked. She had always enjoyed cooking, but cooking for the loves of her life was even better. Sana was a horrible cook, and they tried to only let her in the kitchen when it was something so easy even Sana couldn’t mess it up. Jihyo was better, and she would cook when Mina was tired, but she would be the first to admit she couldn’t even hold a candle to Mina’s cooking. Mina had grown up cooking with her mom and brother, it was something she just loved doing. She hoped their child would cook with Mina one day. “Okay.” Jihyo giggled as Mina worked. It was always so funny seeing Mina like this, being so adorable and domestic. Jihyo had loved it when they first moved in together, and she still loved it now. “Senior projects have eaten up my time again, like they do every year. What about you?” “Well I’ve read almost a hundred absolutely terrible essays about The Tale of Genji and a couple not so bad ones. No outstanding ones, but most of my students are burned out juniors, so that’s to be expected.” Mina answered honestly. “Teaching juniors is always so interesting. Most of the ones in my department are just trying to suck up to me because they seem to think I can get them an internship.” Jihyo laughed, putting her pen down and walking over to Mina, hugging her from behind. “But besides that, do you think it worked this time?” Jihyo and Mina always had conversations like this the day Sana got the procedure. They would wait until she was asleep to slip into the other room and ask each other if they really think it worked this time. They didn’t want to stress Sana out too much, so they tried to keep their honest opinions for quiet discussions when she was asleep. “I’m hopeful. The doctor said we have a fifty-fifty chance this time.” Mina nodded, her shoulders relaxing as Jihyo held her. “What do you think?” “I think it worked.” Jihyo answered honestly. “Well I mean we won’t know that for a while- but this time I feel lucky.” “You’ve said that before.” Mina giggled when Jihyo kissed the side of her neck, her hand twitching from where it was stirring the soup she was cooking. “Well I really believe it this time.” Jihyo retorted, leaving another butterfly kiss to Mina’s neck. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m just worried about Sana, I’m scared she’s giving up. You know it will never work if she gives up.” “Well I hope you're right about it working, but I think Sana’s fine. She’s just trying not to get her hopes up too much every single time, I know she would do that when we first started and I think it became too much for her.” Mina was about to turn around and give Jihyo a kiss when Jihyo’s phone lit up, buzzing violently on the counter. Jihyo eyed it with an annoyed expression before Mina pushed her towards her phone.

“It’s just Nayeon.” Jihyo rolled her eyes, rejecting the call and putting her phone down.

“You should have answered it. It could have been important.” Mina giggled at her wife’s annoyance.

“It’s Nayeon, it’s never important.” Jihyo sighed when her ringer went off again. “I swear that woman doesn’t know when to give up.” “Well you may as well answer it. You know how Nayeon is, she’s going to keep pestering you until you answer.” Mina pointed out. “Fine.” Jihyo grumbled, accepting the call and putting Nayeon on speaker.“What do you want?” 

“Jihyo guess what?” “No.” Jihyo answered, causing Mina to giggle. “Rude. You were supposed to say what.” Nayeon huffed. “Anyway, we got another dog.” “You got a what?” Jihyo asked in disbelief. She knew Nayeon and Momo were both impulsive, but sometimes it astounded her how they were able to make big decisions like this so easily. “Yup. His name is Boo. Kazumi found him on her way home from school and begged to keep him.” Nayeon happily recounted. “You know you really should stop spoiling her.” Jihyo caught Mina’s eyes as she talked to Nayeon. She picked up her phone and brought it over to where Mina was, wrapping her arms around Mina’s waist from behind. “We don’t spoil her. We just make her happy.” Both Jihyo and Mina had to roll their eyes at that. Kazumi was spoiled. They loved their niece to death but they both knew it. Haneul and Jae were too, but Kazumi was especially spoiled. “Besides she said she’s going to take care of it.” “Do you really think she will?” Jihyo asked, tightening her grip on Mina. “She’s twelve, I doubt she is going to be the best at taking care of a dog.” 

“Agree to disagree.” Jihyo could tell Nayeon was rolling her eyes at her. “Anyway, because of the new dog-”

“No.” Jihyo didn’t even have to hear Nayeon’s question. “You didn’t even let me ask.” Nayeon pouted. “Im Nayeon I have known you for almost thirty years now, I know you were going to ask me to babysit your pets when you and Momo went out for some kind of romantic getaway.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. She turned when she heard some movement behind them, finding Sana standing in the entrance to their kitchen with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her hair messy. She giggled at Sana’s half asleep appearance and waved her over to them. Sana was always so clingy right after she woke up. Every morning she had to hug both of them for at least a few minutes. Mina and JIhyo were used to it, just budgeting some extra time into their morning for Sana’s hugs. 

“No, no I wasn’t going to ask that.” Nayeon’s tone became a bit more serious. “Actually, I was going to ask if because of the dog I could come grab a few things from your house. I know you have some of Kookeu’s stuff lying around and we didn’t have time to stop at the pet store.” Jihyo immediately noticed Nayeon’s change in tone. She wasn’t telling Jihyo something. Even Mina could tell. “You can come over whenever you want Nayeon.” Mina spoke up for the first time. “Oh hi Mina.” Nayeon giggled when she heard Mina’s voice. “Thanks. You're amazing. Jihyo is always so mean to me.” “I am not mean to you.” Jihyo pouted. It melted quickly, once Sana got her attention with a little yawn. “Morning.” Jihyo whispered to Sana. Sana smiled at her and pulled her into a kiss.

“Yes you are. You’ve been bullying me since we were little.” Nayeon huffed. “I have not.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. “Anyway, come over whenever but don’t bring the Kookeu or the new dog-”

“Thank you so much, bye Jihyo!” Jihyo groaned as Nayeon hung up on her. “She’s bringing the damn dog isn’t she?” 

“I don’t understand why you hate Kookeu.” Mina hummed as she continued cooking, chopping some carrots up for them. 

“He always bites me.” Jihyo pouted. “It hurts.” “They are barely love bites.” Mina giggled. “You are adorable, I know you secretly like him.” “I do not.” Jihyo pouted. Sana gave her another kiss and she melted immediately. “Yes I know you're still here.” Jihyo giggled as her attention was turned to Sana. “So needy.” 

“M’ not needy.” Sana pouted. “Just want kisses. Mina doesn’t kiss me when she’s cooking anymore.” 

“Yeah I learned that one the hard way.” Mina giggled. She couldn’t count the number of times innocent kisses while she was cooking had ended in disaster. Especially when the kisses involved Sana. Jihyo was tamer, but she could also be a disaster when she wanted to. “You can go back to sleep if you need, dinner should be another twenty minutes at least.” “No. I need to grade homework.” Sana yawned, kissing Jihyo again. “Need help?” Jihyo offered.

“Baby you haven’t done physics since you were nineteen.” Sana nodded. Jihyo had taken some physics classes in college, but nothing like what Sana had taken. “I can still help. Did you make an answer key?” She doesn’t know why she asked, Jihyo knew Sana did. Sana had always been the type to go the whole nine yards for her students, anything she could do to assist their learning Sana did. Jihyo had always admired Sana for that. “Uh-hum. But it’s okay. It’s just homework, it shouldn’t take too long. I give them one hundred as long as they finish, I just like correcting their work when they are wrong.” Sana nodded, yawning once more before walking over to the kitchen table and sitting down. “But, after dinner.” “Work can wait until after dinner.” Jihyo smiled at Sana and then turned back to Mina. “Need any help?”

“Sure.” Mina smiled at Jihyo before moving to let her help. Sana smiled at the scene of her two wives, she really did get so lucky to have them.

xx 

Nayeon comes over before they finish dinner. Sana gets up to greet her, a blanket still wrapped around her as Nayeon comes in. “Hi Sana.” Nayeon giggled at Sana’s appearance. She had Kookeu with her on a leash, having walked him from her house over to theirs. “You look tired. Rough night?” Nayeon winked at her and Sana smiled. “You know it.” Sana played along. “Was your appointment today?” Nayeon let Kookeu off of his leash, the small dog running over to Sana’s leg and sniffing it. Sana smiled and bent down to pick the little furball up. “Yeah.” Sana yawned, using her free hand to pet Kookeu behind the ears. “How did it go?” “They always go the same Nayeon.” Sana answered, her smile slowly fading. She didn’t like talking about this much, but she knew she couldn’t hide from Nayeon. Nayeon had known her since she was eighteen, and now that she was nearing forty they had been through just about everything together. Sure, Nayeon was closer to her wife, but it didn’t mean she didn’t do everything for Sana too. “I know, but you know it can take a while for this stuff to work. We were at this for three years before we had Kazumi.” Nayeon gave Sana a reassuring smile. “It will work out.” “I don’t know… I’m older now. The chances just keep getting smaller and smaller.” Sana let Kookeu down when the dog started squirming. “Trust me, just keep with it. I almost gave up before we had Kazumi. But things worked out then and I think they will now.” Sana immediately noticed something was off about Nayeon. Of course her words were nice, but the bags under her eyes and the forced smile were starting to show through the longer she was in their house. “Thank you… But Nayeon, what’s wrong?” Sana didn’t like dancing around subjects. “I-” Nayeon sighed. “Momo and I fought again.” Sana thought it was strange Momo didn’t contact her about that. Usually when they fought Nayeon would run to Jihyo and Momo would run to Sana and Mina. Sana had known Momo since she was born, she never kept anything from her. Momo was as close to a sister as Sana had ever gotten, and the two had never kept anything from each other. “Again?” Sana asked. “This happened recently?” All couples fought. Sana, Jihyo, and Mina fought. Nayeon and Momo fought. It was normal. But Sana hadn’t heard about the two of them fighting recently. “I- I’ll tell you over dinner.” Nayeon sighed, rubbing one eye. “Who invited you to dinner?” Sana teased. “I could just take Kookeu and make you go home.” “You wouldn’t.” Nayeon rolled her eyes. Both knew she was right. Nayeon and Momo had been coming over for so long, for as long as they had been together. And Sana was fine with that. She loved having the two of them over.“Are your wives in the kitchen?” “Yeah.” Sana nodded. “Dinner should almost be ready.”

“Did Mina cook?” When Sana nodded Nayeon let out a small thank god before going off towards the living room. Sana trailed behind her, smiling when she saw her wives. “Woah.” Was the first thing Jihyo said to Nayeon. “You saw me this morning.” Nayeon rolled her eyes.

“I thought that was just grumpy morning Nayeon. This is not what I was expecting.” Nayeon had always been good at pretending she was okay. Especially over the phone. She had done it countless times and it always frustrated Jihyo to no end. She wished Nayeon could just tell her when she was upset. “We left the dog stuff on the table. Is it okay I put Kookeu outside?” Mina asked.

“Is the gate closed?” Mina nodded in response. The table had already been set, and Mina had just wordlessly added an extra plate for Nayeon. They had been here a million times, and Mina guessed they would be here a million more. Not that Mina minded. She liked helping their friends. “Then it should be fine. He’s been restless all day and I think he’s a little mad. All the kids' attention was on the new dog and not him.” “I would be mad if I was him.” Sana giggled. “He’s always loved attention.” 

“Yes well I’ve always loved giving it to him.” Nayeon eyed the glass door to their backyard. Kookeu was running around with a chew toy he had left the last time he had been over to their house. “Thank you for dinner.” “Im Nayeon? Thanking me? There must be something wrong.” Nayeon nearly elbowed Jihyo but held back. “I fought with Momo.” Nayeon started, her fingers pausing as she looked over the food. It looked good, it always did. Mina had always been such a good chef. “You two fight all the time.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. “No. We fought for real.” Nayeon sighed. “We have been talking about maybe adopting again but we can’t really agree on it. Last night everything just kind of exploded. We said so many bad things- I said so many bad things. I know Momo is just being realistic and is looking out for us but I feel like she isn’t listening to me. haneul heard us, we thought she was asleep, but she heard us. And I guess- I guess we set her off. We try not to argue in front of her and Jae- well Kazumi too but you get it. I spent almost the entire night calming her down and this morning Momo wouldn’t even look at me.” All three of them had to take a second to think about everything Nayeon had just told them. haneul had always hated yelling. Jae was better, but Haneul had always struggled with yelling. Even now, years since they had adopted them she hated it. “When she came home today she was ignoring me. I know she was probably angry about the dog too, but Kazumi… She was so insistent on us keeping Boo. She can be so stubborn sometimes. Momo was just so mad at me. I needed an excuse to leave.” “You know… I think Momo is just afraid.” Surprisingly enough Mina was the first to voice it. Nayeon would have expected that forward of a comment from Jihyo or Sana, but never from Mina. “Haneul and Jae, and honestly Kazumi too, have all been through a lot. Kazumi less so than the twins… But you know losing Momo’s mother was hard on her. It was hard on Momo too. I think she’s just afraid that if you guys adopt again it will be difficult for them. I know you think they will probably be fine because they are older, but think about last night. Haneul had a panic attack because of yelling, what if you guys adopt a kid and they accidentally set her off? Jae and Kazumi know not to do anything like that because they grew up with Haneul, but I think Momo is afraid that introducing a new person into that equation might be stressful for Haneul. And there’s also the feat they may think you guys are trying to replace them.” “Mina is right Nayeonie. Adoption is so incredibly complicated. Yes it’s worth it, but there’s also so much that goes into it. Momo has always been afraid of change. And I know it’s partially my fault, but it’s how she is.” Sana spoke up after her wife, taking one of Mina’s hands and squeezing it. 

“You should give Momo a bit of space. Let her speak. You really didn’t help things by bringing a random dog home.” Jihyo joked, poking Nayeon’s side. “Look, we are happy to let you stay here for a night or two, just to give Momo some space to think. Give you some space to cool down. You probably haven’t taken some time to yourself since this all happened. I think it’s for the best you do.” Jihyo mentioned taking one of Nayeon’s hands similar to the way her wives were holding hands. “Thank you… Momo didn’t want me to talk to you guys about any of this. She said you guys had too much stress and I shouldn’t bother you… That woman always has this habit of bottling things up at the worst times.” Nayeon sighed. “But she does have a point, I know you guys are going through a rough time.” “I wouldn’t say it’s rough.” Sana spoke up. “It’s just tiring. But we aren’t too stressed, at least I don’t think we are right?” She looked at Mina and Jihyo with such wide eyes both of their hearts ached. Having a baby had been so difficult on all three of them, but they had tried to stay calm for so long. All three knew internally they were going to reach a breaking point soon, none of them were just ready to admit it yet. “Right.” All three of them hated lying, but they didn’t know what else they were supposed to say.

xx 

“Momo?” Sana had been surprised when Momo had called her. Jihyo had texted her saying they were going to keep Nayeon for the night according to her Momo had just texted back a thumbs up emoji. Sana knew Momo would want to talk to her eventually, but knowing her she expected that to be tomorrow. Momo had a nasty habit of stopping by Sana’s office at work. Momo didn’t usually have too much to do during the day, as her studio only had a few classes during the early part of the day. Sometimes she would come to Sana’a office under the guise that Nayeon had kicked her out of hers and she was bored. Others she would come to complain about Nayeon. Sana never really minded, most of her students were absolutely terrible about coming to office hours and she was bored sitting there by herself grading. It was nice to have someone to talk to sometimes, and god knows how many times she had showed up at Momo’s studio to complain about something Mina or Jihyo did. “Aunt Sana?” “Kazumi?” Sana asked, a bit confused. “Why are you calling me?” “Because my moms don’t think I’m ready for a phone. Can you put my mom on? I want to talk to her.” “Sure.” Sana sighed and stood up from the table. She was still exhausted from earlier and really was ready to sleep, but she had to finish her grading today. Mina and Jihyo were also grading various students' work, all three of them slumped over their living room table with mountains of work to grade. They had been there hundreds of times, and Sana wouldn’t say she hated it. It was just, kind of boring. Nayeon was in the other room, watching a drama on her laptop. Sana sometimes cursed the fact the mechanical engineering department had so many TAs willing to grade. The physics department had TAs too, but there really weren’t that many compared to the mechanical engineering department. The mechanical engineering department was much more competitive though, and had a lot more students, so there were more of them that wanted to be TAs. Sana got her attention and handed her phone to her immediately. “Hm?” Nayeon asked.

“Your daughter wants to talk to you.” Sana was a bit confused as to why Kazumi had called her instead of just calling Nayeon. She knew Nayeon could be bad about charging her phone sometimes, so the thought crossed her mind that Nayeon’s phone could just be dead. Sana decided to give them some privacy as she went back to the grading table. “Who was it?” Jihyo hummed and wrapped her right arm around Sana, holding a pen in her left. 

“Kazumi. She wanted to talk to Nayeon about something.” Sana answered. “I’m guessing she’s just a little stressed Nayeon is gone. ”

“She has always been pretty clingy. When she was little, babysitting her could be difficult if it was overnight.” Mina hummed. “It was always weird to me because Haneul and Jae seemed fine, but Kazumi would always throw little fits until we called one of them and they calmed her down.” 

“Some kids are just like that. She’s growing out of it. Slowly. I’m sure tonight it was scary for her because Nayeon was there earlier and never came back. ” Jihyo remarked. “Hey… Do you think our child will be clingy?” There was a heavy silence that came over them when Jihyo said that. They tried not to talk about it too much, what their child would be like. They had a lot in the beginning of the process, but now years later they knew that would give all of them false hope. This entire situation was a careful balance of being hopeful and realistic. “Knowing Sana, yes.” Mina was the first to speak up, a teasing smile on her face. She was doing her best to lighten the atmosphere, she didn’t want to get into this right now. Not with Nayeon here. “Hey.” Sana whined. “I wasn’t that clingy when I was little.” “So it started when you were older? Or did it start when you met us?” Jihyo tried to be as careful about the topic as possible. Sana hated talking about the past before she met the two of them. She hadn’t known Sana for as long as Mina did, and to be honest even now she felt like she didn’t know as much about Sana’s past as Mina did. Mina had met Sana in high school, and Jihyo didn’t meet either of them until college. Mina had been there at one of the lowest points in Sana’s life, and Jihyo didn’t meet her until later. 

“She really wasn’t this clingy in high school.” Mina commented. “Well when we were asleep she would always try to cuddle up to me or Momo, but other than that she really wasn’t clingy.” Mina eyed Sana with baited breath. Sana didn’t like it when they talked about high school too much, but she seemed fine, still looking over papers. She was wearing her glasses (thankfully, Mina had argued with Sana so many times to just wear them), her attention on the paper in front of her. Sana’s face when she was concentrating was always so adorable. “It really all started when we started dating.”

“Cute.” Jihyo giggled, knowing they had completely lost Sana’s attention to the paper in front of her. Nayeon comes back into the living room later, giving Sana her phone back and tears on her face.

“What did Kazumi say?” Jihyo asked. She had finished grading, and was now waiting for her wives to finish so they could get on with their night. “She asked me if we were getting a divorce.” Nayeon sighed, slumping down on the couch. “She said she’s not little anymore so I shouldn’t lie to her. And that she’s seen how we haven’t been as affectionate lately and how much we’ve been fighting. And then Jae took the phone from her when she started crying.”

“That’s a difficult subject when you're twelve.” Jihyo nodded, getting off the floor to slump onto the couch with Nayeon. “Do you want to get divorced?” “God no- no. Not over this. We can work it out. Kazumi is just overthinking.” Nayeon sighed. “Is she?” Jihyo asked, looking into Nayeon’s eyes. “I-yeah. She’s always had a bit of separation anxiety. Momo says she’s growing out of it- but I’m still worried. I’ve been talking to the twins therapist about her, and she thinks it might be good for her to start seeing her if she starts to get any worse.” Nayeon commented, seeing Sana and Mina still working. “It’s nothing to be worried about. I promise.” “Okay.” Jihyo nodded, opening her arms for Nayeon. Nayeon accepted them and relaxed in her embrace, letting her oldest friend hold her while she thought about what to do next. 

xx 

Nayeon and Momo work things out (like they always do) not two days later. Jihyo had always admired the two of them for that. Even if the fight seemed to be really bad, both were good about talking about how they were feeling and what they needed to do to resolve the issue. From what Jihyo understood, they were going to wait a few years before trying their hand at fostering for a little while. It seemed like a good compromise. Nayeon had always loved children and just wanted to help all of the ones she could, Jihyo had always understood tht and she honestly thought it was so sweet her friend was so excited to help kids out.

In terms of their own relationship, things were only getting worse. It started with little comments here and there about how if it had worked Sana would start feeling symptoms by now since it had been almost two months since and that they needed to book the next appointment. Sana didn’t seem too jazzed about that. And when she expressed that, they had erupted in a huge argument. They hadn’t yelled at each other like that in years, and honestly Jihyo thinks it might have been the worst argument they had ever had. 

“You're giving up? After all this time- all this money we’ve put into this- your just going to give up?!” Mina was by far the most upset, which was triggering both of them. 

“I can’t keep doing this Mina! We’re just- we keep pretending we’re fine but we all know that we aren’t!” Sana responded. Her hands were clenched and tears were brimming at the edge of her vision. 

“Stop! Just- stop it. Yelling isn’t going to solve this.” Jihyo could feel a headache coming on. “But you agree with me right?” Mina asked, teary eyes as she looked at Jihyo. Jihyo knew Mina had been the most hurt by this entire process. First she was told she was infertile and then it wasn’t working with Sana- she had a lot to be stressed about. “We’ve invested so much in this- we can’t just give up!” “I can’t do this anymore Mina! It hurts me so much to see a negative test- to have a period! To see how sad it makes both of you! I can’t keep failing you both! I can’t-I can’t-” Jihyo could tell Sana had reached her breaking point. Honestly they all saw this coming, but it was still difficult to watch. 

“Breathe Sana,” Jihyo tried to take one of her hands but Sana shrugged her off. “Don’t touch me!” Everything was silent after that. Mina grabbed her coat and left, but both of them knew where she was going. Mina was going to cool off at Jeongyeon and Dahyun’s house while Sana and Jihyo tried to not scream at each other anymore. Sana was in the corner of their bedroom, curled into a tiny ball and shaking. Jihyo knew this pose, this was Sana trying to calm herself down. Sometimes Jihyo forgot Sana had grown up in an abusive household, but times like this served as a painful reminder that her wife had been through so much when she was young. Jihyo watched her carefully as Sana’s breathing evened out and she pulled a blanket around herself

“Sana?” Sana ignored her. “Hey baby, can I touch you?” Sana spared her a look at that, slowly nodding. When Mina was like this, she didn’t like being touched. Jihyo had gotten used to waiting to touch Mina until the younger one intatied. But Sana wasn’t like that. She liked being touched when she was like this. Jihyo wrapped her arms around Sana and held her close, smelling the shampoo she had always loved. She knew what it was now, her and Sana had been sharing a shower for almost ten years now she was familiar with her wife’s shampoo brand, but it had always smelled so good to her. “M’ sorry.” Sana muttered after a while. “No-no sweetie I’m sorry.” Jihyo sighed. “I wasn’t thinking about how stressful this all must have been on you.” “Why hasn’t it ever worked?” Jihyo’s heart was breaking at Sana’s tiny voice. She felt her shoulder getting wet from where Sana’s face was buried in it, but she didn’t mind. “I don’t know… No one said this was easy.” Jihyo muttered, tucking Sana’s hair behind her ear. She went back to their screaming match from earlier, thinking of everything Sana had said. “You know this isn’t your fault right?” Sana stayed quiet at that. “Sana… This isn’t your fault. You are not a failure. You have absolutely no control whether or not this works.” “But- I- it feels like my fault. You guys want a baby so bad- I want a baby so bad but I can’t- I can’t do it and that’s frustrating.” Sana muttered. “I know it is sweetheart. It is. But it’s not your fault. You are doing so good. I’m so proud of how hard you have worked so far, but if you are done… Let’s be done.” Jihyo whispered. “We can take some time away. Maybe reconsider adopting. But I think we should take a little break before we do that. How does that sound to you?” Sana nodded at that, cuddling closer to Jihyo. Jihyo had always been the rock in their relationship. Of the three of them, she was able to keep her emotions in check the most. She never really had outbursts, and she was able to keep her composure in situations like their fight. “Good.” Jihyo kissed the top of her head. “We can talk to Mina about this tomorrow. You know how she is- she was just really invested in this. But she will be okay, she wants us to be happy more than anything.” “Mina won’t leave us?” If Jihyo’s heart wasn’t broken before it was now. Sana had healed a lot from when Jihyo first met her, but there were still times where her old insecurities would bubble back to the surface. “No.” Jihyo nodded. “Mina won’t leave us.” She hoped to god that was true, but she knew Mina. Mina wouldn’t leave them over something like that. Sana looked ready to fall asleep against her shoulder, but suddenly she was pulling away and jumping out of bed. Jihyo was spooked by the sudden movement, following Sana with a rapid heartbeat as her wife ran to the bathroom.

It wasn’t much later that Sana threw up. Not just once, multiple times. Tears rushed down her cheeks as Jihyo held her hair back and rubbed her back. Jihyo thought this was probably just a side effect from earlier, but she couldn’t stop the thoughts about how Sana had never thrown up from her panic attacks before, and the other implications to sudden sickness like that. And she wasn’t the only one thinking about that.

xx 

Mina didn’t come home the next morning. Jihyo knew she needed more time to think and sort through her emotions, but she was still worried. She texted Jeongyeon and Dahyun, and they said they were taking good care of Mina and that she was eating and safe. Jihyo was relieved at that, because honestly that was better than Sana.

Sana threw up again the next morning, and after she had refused to eat breakfast. By lunch, Sana was understandably starving and ate more than Jihyo had seen her eat in a while. She was happy about that, but that food had just caused Sana to throw up again. They had monitored her for signs of a fever, but it seemed she didn’t have one. 

Sana made Jihyo go to work that afternoon. Both had taken the morning off, but Jihyo had been expected to work in the afternoon unlike Sana. Sana had practically forced her to go, promising to eat more and that she would be fine by herself. It didn’t stop Jihyo from obsessively texting her before her class started. Sana liked the time away from Jihyo. She knew her body better than anyone else, she knew something was wrong. And she knew it was one of two things either one she was coming down with a stomach bug for the first time in ten years or she was pregnant. Honestly even if the latter made more sense, they couldn’t help but think the former was the one that was true. She knew it was the less likely option logically, but she just couldn’t get her hopes again. Especially since it had all been so sudden. Sure she had felt a bit nauseous a couple times in the past few weeks but she had never had anything like that. It just seemed so sudden. They had a stash of pregnancy tests under their sink. Because they had been through this so many times before, and it had never worked, not even once. Sana didn’t know why she was even doing this. It never worked. But she pushed herself to do it anyway. Sure she felt a bit off, but she had also been through a lot lately. Plus her period had never been regular. That didn’t mean she was pregnant. It couldn’t have worked now. There was no way. When Jihyo got home, she found Sana on the couch crying. When she asked why, she said they would need to wait until Mina got home for her to tell her why.

Mina comes home after dinner. Jihyo could tell she was trying to be careful around both of them, but can tell she’s calmed down. They all know they need to talk, but they spend most of the night dancing around the subject with small pleasantries until Sana practically forces them to talk. “I’m sorry.” Mina sighed. “I was just frustrated, I should have listened sooner. If you want to give up for now, it might be for the best.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Sana mentioned, her finger twirling together that way they always did when she was nervous. Jihyo knew Sana was keeping something from them, she just couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was. “I’m sorry to both of you. Screaming was not the correct response.” Jihyo sighed. “I think taking some time away might be for the best. We can think and come up with a plan for maybe looking into adoption.” “That sounds like a good idea. This has been bothering all of us for a while. As scary as it sounds time away might be for the best.” Mina agreed, noticing how fidgety Sana was being. “What is it?” “I agree we shouldn’t do the procedure again… But I don’t think we should look into adoption.” Sana confused them both with that. Sana had talked to both of them in the past about how if the biological thing didn’t work she was open to adoption, so the change felt both sudden and unexpected. “What do you mean?”

“Adoption is great and all, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to be looking into it right now.” Sana looked at both of them before taking each of their hands. “Because I’m pregnant.” 

Mina and Jihyo had both never been more shocked. “I-Is this a joke as a punishment for yesterday or-”

“No.” Sana stopped Mina’s rambling. “I’m actually pregnant.” Jihyo didn’t say anything, just tackled Sana in a hug and rained kisses on her cheeks. “I love you so much.” Jihyo whispered. “Me too.” Mina couldn’t stop sobbing as she joined the hug. “I love you both so much too.” Sana had never been happier than that moment, except maybe on their wedding day, but honestly, Sana didn’t think that counted. This was her happiest moment.

[lyssismagical]

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic 

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho 

 *

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

*

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

*

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

*

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

*

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @fancyxparker  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[writing-red]

The Red Bottle | 2

Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: PARENTAL ABUSE! (verbal & physical) murder, substance abuse/underage drinking, and cussing. I am serious. These themes are heavy-handed, don’t read something that’s going to hurt you, okay?

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Ever since the letters arrived, your life felt different, and going on as if everything hadn’t changed in a stroke of your mothers’ quill was difficult.

Of course, you and Draco had nearly every class together, and he was acting so differently when you were around. He wasn’t your best friend, but he also wasn’t insulting you or purposely making you trip in the halls. Of course, the two of you didn’t know how to act around one another, resulting in plenty of awkward interactions. It was only September, Winter Holiday wasn’t for months, and summer was much further, but the idea of it was looming.

“Alright, class, please find your new seats,” Slughorn announced as the sixth years piled into his class.

Professor Slughorn had a knack for playing matchmaker for his student before he retired, and he certainly didn’t plan on giving up his habit now that he was back. So, of course, when he noticed Draco’s feelings for Y/n, he got to it.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered underneath your breath when you realized who your partner would be for the foreseeable future. “Morning, Malfoy,” you said when you sat down. Neither of you wanted anyone knowing, so you had agreed to keep up appearances for the time being.

“Good morning, Y/l/n,” he said, not bothering to look at you.

It still stung a bit, you admit. Around your third year, you’d had a bit of a crush on the platinum-haired boy, and you hoped that maybe he would start treating you like a human being. But, it was clear you were overestimating the Slytherin Prince’s capacity for kindness. Despite that, something sparked in the pit of your stomach every time you spoke, but you just chalked it up to nerves and fear.

On the other hand, Draco had fancied you since your second year, a feeling that had only grown since then. But, he couldn’t let you know that, not now, not with everything going on. He could put you in harm’s way. If something happened to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Draco would just have to push those feelings down till he carried out the Dark Lords plan, and until this was all over. Love was a weakness, and he wouldn’t allow feelings for you to interfere with his duty to the Dark Lord.

But, Professor Slughorn interrupted your thoughts.

“Today, we shall be brewing amortenia, the love potion we reviewed last class. As we know, many potions require skill as well as patience, and amortenia is no exception. It will take roughly nine class periods, so settle in and try to be kind to your partners. The recipe is on the board and on page 27 of your books. Begin.”

Amortenia, of course, this class really couldn’t get any worse. It was as if the universe wanted to remind you that you were destined to a loveless marriage your selfish parents forced you into. Eventually, the hour-long period ended, you and Malfoy getting along decently enough to start your potion off on the right foot. 

The second Slughorn dismissed the class, you found your friends, and all of you hurried out to the Quidditch Pitch for try-outs where you and Hermione happily resigned yourselves to watching since neither of you are much of quidditch players. You watched Hermione nervously observing Ron and McLaggen, and you eyed her as she quietly sent a confundus charm McLaggen’s way. Being the good friend, you are you didn’t plan on letting her live that down anytime soon. As hard as everything was at the moment, being around the people you love never failed to help you feel a bit more normal.

You spent all your time with them, studying, eating, walking to classes. It wasn’t abnormal, but suddenly you were thoroughly intentional about who you were around and what you were doing. Even if it was something as simple as walking to the bathroom between classes, you were always sure to have a friend by your side.

-

Despite only having been at school for a week, tension was high around the castle. Everybody needed the chance to let loose a bit.

It’s a well-known fact at Hogwarts that Gryffindor throws the best parties. Everyone years five and up are invited regardless of house. If there’s one thing that can bond bold Gyrffindors and prideful Slytherin, its taking shots of firewhiskey side by side. No one ever snitches because if they were there, it means they were partaking. It was one of the few parties on-campus members of every house attend.

With the first week of classes over and the weekend here, it was the perfect time for a party. Over many years students crafted spots around campus faculty didn’t know about hidden student lounges behind paintings with a password and rooms stocked for parties with couches and bottles of alcohol that would just appear. They would move every year so that if students returned as professors, they would not be found.

“You’re coming to the party tomorrow, no excuse will get you out of it, and I will not take no for an answer,” you said to Hermione on your way the last class of your day.

“But what if we get caught?” She said.

“They’ll give us detention, they won’t kick out all of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Anyways they won’t catch us; that’s the point of the rotating location.”

“I have a paper to do.”

“You are the smartest person I know. You’ll finish it in the morning. You know what? I’ll do it with you, and if I don’t both finish, you don’t have to go,” you had a lengthy history of procrastinating on essays. They always took you far longer than they needed to.

“Deal,” Hermione said, underestimating how badly you wanted her at that party. “So how’s that potions project with Malfoy going?”

“Shit, don’t remind me,” you groaned. “Let’s just not talk about Malfoy this weekend.”

-

“Mate, you’ve got to get laid tomorrow night, ever since we’ve gotten back to school, it’s like you’re a different man,” Blaise said.

“I’m not tense. I’m just no longer interested in school-boy antics,” Draco bit back. None of the boys around him could understand half of what he was going through.

“Boys, take a shot every time Malfoy makes a bullshit excuse for his shitty attitude,” Nott said and chuckled, earning a glare from Draco.

“It’s Hogwarts, not a tavern. I don’t have to be in a damn good mood all of the time,” Malfoy responded bitterly.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be a git all of the time. We just want you to destress a little mate, it’s not a bad thing,” Blaise said, leaning back in the plush armchair.

“Just go to the bloody party Draco, it’s not going to kill you,” Theo added.

“Fine,” Draco said under his breath. “Now, let’s get back to studying?”

-

“The effects of muggle philosophy have had an impact on the development of spells that is unmatched by other influences. The opportunity for these philosophers to have collaborated with witches and wizards would have simply increased the advantages which we already benefit from today.”

“In all of our years of school, you have never written an essay that quickly,” Hermione, astonished, said as you read her your concluding sentences.

“I had some motivation, now let’s go get ready! C’mon, it’s your very first Hogwarts party!”

“You are the absolute worst Y/n,” she groaned, as she started putting her essay and writing tools back in her bag.

“And you love me, so you’re going to have to work that one out,” you responded with a terribly overexaggerated wink. “Now come on! Maybe we’ll get Ron to stop being so daft and possibly ask you out,” You dragged your blushing friend out of the common room and up to your dormitory to get ready for the highly anticipated event.

-

There was something about how free you felt at these parties that had you coming back for more every time. Maybe it was the alcohol, perhaps the too-loud music and having to yell to speak, the mingling of sweat, old furniture, and cigarettes, or all of the above. Whatever it was, you loved it. 

You wore your favorite ensemble with a signature deep red clinging to your lips. Although, your pride and joy of the night was Hermione Granger in a tight red dress, somewhat tamed and defined curls, and just a tad bit of makeup. Your best friend is beautiful, you just loved the opportunity to dress her up.

You and Hermione stepped into the cozy room wrapped in ornate red wallpaper about forty minutes after the party’s official start, which had her nervous until you convinced her that was the way things were done, and she had to let you take the lead here. This was your area of expertise, not hers. You walked in and instantly found two fresh drinks, handing her one and offering a toast.

“To your very first Hogwarts party,” you said with a wide smile.

“You make me nervous, Y/n,” she responded, peering into the cup with fear in her eyes.

“That goes away with a few drinks, I promise,” With that, both of you threw back the concoctions. You took it without a second thought. Meanwhile, Hermione started coughing, not yet used to the punishments of hard alcohol.

While you and Hermione made your way through the party, with fresh drinks in hand, to find Harry and Ron, Draco and his crew entered. Draco was wearing an oversized black button-down with the sleeves rolled up his alabaster arms tucked into slick black pants that fit him perfectly. He sauntered in with Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe, and Goyle behind him. As always, he commanded the attention in the room; everyone knew the Slytherin Prince had arrived.

“Hey, your husband just walked in,” Ron whispered to you, a little too loudly for your liking.

“Ron. Shut your bloody mouth right now,” you said through your teeth. He was drunk enough to not care, you weren’t. “I’ll tear you to pieces.”

“Ooh, maybe you should have been a Slytherin, you’re soo scary,” he said and chuckled at his horrible joke.

“Ron, you’re acting like a git, shut up,” Hermione said, jumping to your defense.

“Harry, who’re you staring at?” You asked, in an attempt to change the subject off of you and Malfoy.

“I’m watching the door to see if Ginny shows,” he said quietly to you. His infatuation with Ginny was still a sore subject with Ron.

“I’ll let you know if I see her,” you responded. 

“Thanks,” Harry said and smiled, noticing the lull in the conversation he pipped up. “Why don’t I go get us some more drinks? Y/n and Hermione need to get on my and Ron’s level.” 

“Sounds good, Potter,” you quipped as he walked towards the bar.

Across the room, Draco Malfoy watched you with a close eye. The instinct to protect you hadn’t yet faded, and it was currently manifesting through stalking you at parties. Blaise noticed his friend’s gaze on you, but he let his friend be. Maybe this would be his opportunity to find out what’s been occupying Malfoy’s brain.

It wasn’t long until Harry returned to your spot with four bottles and no cups in sight.

“That’s it, Harry, it's official, you’re insane,” Hermione said, quickly putting two and two together.

“Oh, just take the bottle, Hermione! You don’t have to drink the whole thing,” he said and handed her a bright red bottle of fire whiskey.

He handed you the same then passed an open beer to Ron, considering he was already pretty drunk. You graciously accepted the bottle and took a swig, the whiskey burning, but it didn't bother you as you were rather used to it at this point.

“Are you going to drink all of that?” Dracos' highly judgemental voice came from behind your spot on the couch.

“Excuse me?” You asked and turned around to see him looming over you. “Did you come here just to judge me? This is a party, you know, drinking is kind of the point. And, why are my drinking habits any of your business?” You questioned, a slur slowly starting to take over your voice.

“You know exactly why it is my business,” he said as if each word was causing him terrible pain.

You handed off the bottle to Harry, stood, and spun around to face Draco. Instead of making you clumsy,  whiskey grants you grace. You were not a sloppy drunk. You placed a hand on Draco’s chest and leaned in close enough for the interaction to be intimate. You were drunk enough now, and the man in front of you was far too sober.

“I am not your wife; in fact, I am not yet your fiancée. We are to be married, we aren’t engaged. And that does not give you the right to control me, Malfoy,” you said, sneering as you uttered his surname. “Now let me live my life before I am subject to you for the rest of it,” you were seething, not once breaking eye contact with him as you took out the anger you had towards your parents on him.

He responded by grabbing your chin rather roughly, “Watch the way you speak to me.”

You slapped his hand away, “Don’t bloody touch me like that.” 

“I’ll touch you in whatever way I want,” he said, just as angry as you. The two of you held your staring contest before he stormed away from you towards wherever alcohol was.

To put it lightly, you were livid. How dare he treat you like some object he could throw around. Tears welled up in your eyes, and all you could think was that you wanted to hurt him back the way he had hurt you.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Harry asked. 

“Give me back the whiskey, please,” you responded.

Harry complied, passing the flaming red bottle your way. If there was one thing, childhood trauma taught you, it was how to drink.

You drowned yourself in the bottle, finishing it off to your friend's shock. “I am perfectly fine,” you said, putting the bottle down and wiping the water away from your eyes. “Ron, Hermione, if you don’t mind, Harry and I are going to go on a walk.”

The suggestion in your voice wasn’t evident to anyone but Harry, who knew exactly what you were getting at. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to snog at parties when each of you was drunk enough. It never got in the way of your friendship, and it wasn’t romantic in the least. It was just something the two of you do on nights where either one wants the chance to forget.

It wasn’t long until you found a spare corner, and the rest of the fire whiskey did its job. Ginny out of his mind, Harry made quick work of pushing you up against the wall and placing his lips on yours. One didn’t need passion to be a good kisser. You reached up your hand and gripped his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. The closer he was, the further away Draco would be, right? And Harry obliged, kissing you harder and wrapping his arms around your waist. But, this time it wasn’t working, you couldn’t get the thought of Draco’s hands on you out of your head. Even his scent was lingering, he was infuriating. You continued to try and push the notion of Draco's lips on yours by letting Harry move from your lips to your neck.

Not far away, Draco watched the Chosen One snog his betrothed, jealousy tightening its grip on his heart. It hurt more than he could care to admit. You had some power over him he didn’t know existed before this moment, and he knew that it was dangerous, that caring about you was dangerous. But at this moment, all he wanted was for you to get away from Harry Potter.

“Mate, what is going on?” Blaise asked, breaking Draco from his trance, and handing him a drink.

Draco took the drink and let out a breath. “My parents have decided that Y/l/n and I will be married this summer. We both found out Monday.”

“Didn’t I just see her in a corner snogging Potter?” He asked, his voice rigid.

Draco took a sip from the mystery cup and nodded. 

“That’s right disrespectful, and it’s clearly bothering you, go bloody do something about it,” Blaise reasoned.

“I don’t know. I think I may have brought it on,” Blaise could feel Dracos tension, and he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“It was her decision to pull him into a corner, now get her out of it,” he advised, and Draco nodded, you shouldn’t be going around kissing other guys, particularly not Harry Potter.

“Thanks, Blaise,” he said and set his drink down on a nearby surface before heading over to your little corner.

Harry’s lips were back on yours, there was likely a mark on your neck, but that wasn’t anywhere near your thoughts. No, even with Harry’s tongue in your mouth, your mind was still on Draco fucking Malfoy.

“I hope I’m not bothering the two of you, but I’m going to need a word with Y/n,” Draco said, causing you to pull off of Harry and turn towards Draco. Despite his evident anger, he had a sense of decorum about him.

“Draco, darling, I’m busy, can’t you tell?” You teased in response.

“I’m sure you and Potter can spare a moment for me,” he said tightly.

But you ignored his anger and turned to Harry, who was disheveled, confused, and disappointed by the loss of contact. “Love, would you mind if I stepped away with Mr. Malfoy here for a moment?” You asked sarcastically, not expecting an answer.

“I mean-”

“Just come with me,” Draco said, interrupting Harry, not caring one bit what he had to say. Again tightly grabbing your wrist, as he pulled you out of the party and out into the hall.

“We just have to stop meeting like this handsome,” you said, placing a hand on his chest, softer than you had earlier.

“You’re drunk,” he said, distaste for your inebriated behavior clear as he pushed you off of him.

“Awe, you’re handsome when you’re mean,” you said, a playful pout on your lips.

“Shut it, Y/n, listen to me. I need you to take this seriously, are you listening?” He asked hotly.

“How could I ignore words coming out of pretty lips like yours, love?” You asked, an enticing drawl to your voice, pushing him off the edge.

He wanted so badly to push you up against the wall and reclaim your lips. He knew the words out of your mouth were just drunken prattle, and you didn’t mean a lick of it, but he couldn’t help, but he couldn’t keep the butterflies from flooding his stomach every time you flirted with him or called him love. But, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been, why else would you have just been up against a wall with Harry? Merlin, Draco hated how badly he loved you.

“Y/n, listen!” He had started shouting, causing you to draw back into yourself and sink into the wall. “You said it yourself, whether we like it or not, we’re getting married this summer. This winter, you’ll be at my house with my family planning our wedding. If you decide you don’t want to comply, they’ll kill you. So you’re going to listen to me and do as I say. Your bloody life depends on it.”

You just nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. In the state you were in, you couldn’t help but see your own father in Draco at that moment. Survival instincts told you to comply.

“We are going to start dating, we’ll be nice to each other in class, eat together, go on dates, study, and keep up appearances as our parents requested. That being said, you’re not to go around snogging other boys, especially not Harry Potter, and I won’t be snogging girls in corners at parties.” You could sense the bitterness in his voice. “The second you broke the seal on that letter, you confirmed your fate. No matter how much you ignore it, there’s no escaping it, so stop trying, and bloody accept it.”

“Draco I-”

“Why do you assume that marrying me is a death sentence?” He wasn’t done. He was deeply hurt by your words and actions over the course of the last week. You made his heart twist, but to you right now, he was just angry. “I’m not as awful as you and your friends constantly make me out to be.”

“All you’ve ever done is hurt me, Draco,” you said, any air of drunken playfulness gone now, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes. The alcohol was making it impossible to gather your thoughts. “Since we got here, calling me bloodtraitor, every time you got a chance to, you would remind me of how my parents thought of me and what they do to me. All that shit you pulled for all those years, making me feel inferior. You always confirmed that I deserved the abuse, the terrors I faced at home. And now all of a sudden, we’re supposed to get married, and you care in your weird twisted way?” You could not hide the hurt as it streamed down your face and the confusion that laced your voice. “You can’t do that to me!”  

Draco broke inside, watching you hurt because of him. But he didn’t know how to tell you that he cared and that he wanted so badly to love you, but he didn’t understand how. “That doesn’t change our family’s choice. Learn how to live with it because, as of tomorrow morning, you are my girlfriend, I put that hickey there, not Potter, and I don’t care how nasty your hangover is, you’ll wake up, get dressed and look presentable, and you’ll go on a date with me to Hogsmede tomorrow. Do you understand?” There was no room in his voice for disagreement. He sounded livid.

The tear that slipped down your cheek as you nodded broke his heart. It hadn’t even been a week, and all he’d done was hurt you. You were right. He was a monster.

“I understand,” you said, and he knew you wouldn’t forget this tomorrow morning, so with that, he stormed off.

The second he turned the corner, you slid down to the floor, you were sobbing, and you couldn’t breathe. He was right. It wouldn’t be the wedding that would change your life, it had been the letter. You were his, and that wasn’t going to change. No matter what, you were stuck. The panic attack just got worse as you sat there, unable to move. But, apparently, you were there long enough for someone to realize you were gone because, at some point, Ron came out to find you in your predicament. He didn’t say anything, he just picked you up and carried you to the Gryffindor common room. He set you down on a couch near the fireplace and sat on the floor next to you as your sobbing shifted to silent tears, and bit by bit, your breathing started to return to normal.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked sweetly, no matter how much Ron joked and teased, he cared.

But you just shook your head no, and when he walked away, you assumed he was going to bed, but he returned with a large shirt, shorts, and a glass of water.

“Y/n, I don’t think you can make it up to your room, please put these on and drink this.”

You nodded and did as he told the common room was empty, so all it took was him turning around to give you the privacy to change.

“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” he asked gently. It was obvious you didn’t want to talk, and it was clear that Malfoy had caused this, but he didn’t want to leave you alone.

You just nodded, so he grabbed a couple of pillows from around the room and two blankets. After placing one on you, he lay down on the ground next to you and fell asleep.

Part 3 - The Milky Tea

Tag list - @whatawildone @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker @pillowjj @pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog

[dranza]

Tarot

Draco x Reader

Word count: 2232

Draco bumps into you in the slytherin common room, late at night. You both find yourself opening up to each other. I just think its cute man.

Warnings: Parent struggles. If there is anymore please let me know!

Glancing at the clock on the wall I realise it's now half past twelve in the morning. I had officially spent over four hours painting my tarot cards, procrastinating from doing my homework is officially one of my skills. Sighing, I slide the card I was working on over to the edge of the table to dry. I then reach for a mint leaf from my pocket and slide it into my mouth, the taste takes me back to being a child and playing in the manor gardens with my Nanny. I'm clearing up my paints as I hear footsteps coming into the hall that leads to the slytherin common room. Scrambling, I hide the paints under the table and pretend to fall asleep over the charms book I was meant to be reading. Recently, Pansy had been taking her prefect duties a little too seriously and had busted me for being out of my dorm room too many times now. I could easily wind her up and make her leave me alone but tonight I just didn't have the energy to hear her rattle on about how ‘we aren't meant to hang in the common room outside of curfew times’. The thing is, I’ve always been a night owl and not wanting to wake up the other girls in my room, I've made a habit of coming down to the common room to have some alone time. 

“Stop being so pathetic, I know you're not asleep y/n” Draco announces in a chuckle as he walks in front of the table I'm at. 

“Oh, what do you want Draco?” I lift my head to look at the white haired boy towering over me.

“Don’t worry, I'm not here to kick you out.” He pulls at a stool with his foot and sits opposite me, picking an apple from the bowl on the side table “I was just coming to pick up a snack. What are you doing awake at this hour anyway?” 

I lift a paintbrush from under the table in response. “I don't even know where to start on the charms essay so I thought I'd add to my collection instead.”

He places his elbows onto his knees and leans closer to the three cards I had set on the edge of the table. “These are pretty good, I didn't know you could paint.” 

“I didnt realise I had to inform you of everything I do.”

Draco huffs contempt, tilting his head a little “fair enough.”

“What are you doing awake?” I ask as I lift my wand and clean my paint brushes.

“Just finished the reading for potions class” he takes a bite from his apple and lifts the middle card.

A confused giggle escapes my mouth and I tease “I didn't know Draco Malfoy actually cared about his grades.”

Under his breath (more to himself than to me) he whispers “my parents would probably kill me if I didn’t.” Switching to a smirk, he echoes my words back to me “Well, I didn’t realise I had to inform you of everything I do.” He places the card back onto the table and drags the subject back to me “anyway, everything you need for the charms paper is in the fourth and fifth chapter.”

“Ah, thankyou.” I open up the charms book to the suggested chapters and place in a book mark. I stretch out my legs and lean back onto the sofa behind me, sitting on the floor for so long has made my legs go dead. “So, do you want me to do a reading?” 

Dracos body stiffens slightly, and he straightens his back. “I don't think so, it's not very accurate anyway is it?” His thin fingers pick at his loose black pajama bottoms for fluff that wasn't there. 

He clearly was one of the people who thought divination wasn’t actual magic. Back at Durmstrang, divination was such a popular subject that I was shocked when I came to England and saw so many columns popping up in The Daily Prophet about it just being a hoax. “Oh, for goodness sake Draco, it is accurate if it's done correctly. One card wont hurt you. Also, accurate or not, at least I'll get some practice.” I offer an encouraging smile.

“Please... my father says it's purely based on chance and calculated guessing. I don't imagine you'll be very good if you've had Trelawney teaching you anyway, the woman is out of her mind.” he says in a huff, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“One card?” I lift my eyes to meet his and pout in an exaggerated way.

He cocks a brow and flashes a look at the cards “one.”

I sit up instantly, leaning to the chair that I dumped my bag on earlier that night and pull out a full tarot deck. I clear the table, shuffle the cards and spread them upside down in a row. “What do you want to know?” 

“Errr,” he squeezes his eyes shut and sways his head trying to think of a question. “What do I need to focus more on right now?” he asks unsurely. 

I smile softly at him, surprised that he actually asked a decent question. “Perfect, now just really concentrate on that question and pick the card you're most drawn to.” He seems to hesitate a bit so I add “Don't think too deeply about it, just go with your instinct.”

He lets out a loud breath as he bows over the table to be closer to the cards. With a single finger he slides a card out slightly from the deck and then sits back, looking down at me tentatively.

Sitting on my knees, I take the card he selected and flip it over. 

“The magician? Really? What may this suggest y/n? Well, we're at school and maybe I need to focus on my magic skills.” he word vomits in such a patronizing manner I resist the urge to punch him.

“Will you just shut up Malfoy! Let me concentrate…” 

He lets out a sharp nose exhale but obeys.

“I think it suggests you have an opportunity to right a wrong, it's something you've been putting off but you finally have all the tools you need to be able to make it happen.” I look away from the card to him but his gaze is locked to his hands now. “This has really been weighing down on you, hasn't it? You just need to focus and manifest on the outcome. Is it… is it to do with your father?”

“What?” he lifts his head in a sharp movement at my final question. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I told you this is all a load of rubbish. I'm heading back to bed.” He throws his half eaten apple into the bin. “As should you, we have potions first thing tomorrow and I doubt Snape will let you nap in class.”

“I’m sorry Draco…” I break, realising I had touched a nerve. “You don't have to answer me. Don't just… you don't have to leave.”

He runs his fingers through his messy white hair. “I just… well, I’d just rather not focus on that right now.”

 Draco’s father (Lucius Malfoy) is meant to be having his final hearing, for conspiring with Voldemort, this weekend and whispers all about the Malfoy family have been wandering through every hall at Hogwarts. Last year Voldemort had tried to take over the wizarding world and Draco (much to his parents' alarm) had apparently joined Harry Potter in destroying the horcruxes. Still, everyone was questioning his intentions. He has been putting on a brave face but it's obvious he's been more reserved since the news broke out.

“That's ok.” I try a sympathising smile. “I get it, I’m not trying to pry.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one then.” he says with a sigh.

I look around to try and change the subject, “what's your favourite colour?” I blurt out. I sink inwardly, was this really the best I could come up with.

Draco smiles, raising a brow. “Black.” he states confidently. 

“Ha, dytto.” I pick at the dry paint on my hands. “It reminds me of ink... and wolves... and outer space.”  

 “Yes, that. Also,  you always look great when you wear black” Draco chuckles softly. “Well, I mean not you personally. Although… I'm sure you also do look great in black. But I mean generally, no one can ever… really go wrong if they’re dressed in black.” A blush creeps up his face as he stammers over his words.

A funny little giggle escapes me as I watch him, a similar pink tinting my face. “I know what you mean.” I nudge his arm slightly, noticing his all black pajamas. “I think there’s still a certain skill in pulling off a black outfit though.” 

Draco picks up one of my paint pots and twists it in his hand, trying to look at anything but me, his blush deepening. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“You know, I would have pinned you more as a bright pink kind of guy myself.” I kick myself for trying to be funny but it lifts his nervousness. 

“Not quite.” His laugh is deep and sensual, sending a warm fuzziness through my body. 

“Do you ever paint?” I ask, signally to the pot in his hand. 

“No. I’ve never done any intricate stuff like this anyway.” he gestures to my cards. “These really are quite amazing.”

“Thankyou.” I try not to stare at his face as he studies my work, but the candle light bouncing off his eyelashes and his soft, bottom lip kind of tucking under his teeth is making it very difficult. “To be honest, I don’t really like them.”

“What? Why?” he shoots at me.

“It’s not very neat around here…” I point at the first card, I’d spent half an hour trying to get the shading right on the bricks of the tower earlier tonight. “And her hair just looks like a wig.” My finger grazes the back of Draco’s hand as I point to the Empress card.

“No it doesn't, plus no one else would notice these things you’re bothering about” 

“My mother will.” Quietly correcting myself, I add “would.” I clear my throat lightly to continue “And she would definitely reveal a few more mistakes as well.” I take in a long breath and rub my eyes. “I know this sounds terrible but sometimes I think it's not so bad that she's gone.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry, I… I didn't know.” He stretches his arm across the table towards me but stops just before his hand touches. “Are you OK?” 

“Yeah, I was never really close to her anyway.” I sadly shrug. I realise I’ve never told anyone else any of this. I'm clearly over-tired. 

“And your father?”

“He died when I was 3, I don't remember him. It’s why I’ve had to move here after my mum passed, Uncle Filius is the only member of my family that would take me in.” 

Draco questions in surprise “So it’s true. You are Professor Flitwick's niece?”

“The one and only.” I give him a side smile. 

“Hmmh, well, I know this means nothing… but I don’t think it's all that terrible that you don't feel bad you mother is gone. Sometimes parents aren’t as perfect as they seem.” Draco clicks his fingers and continues, “As you probably know, I’m meant to be meeting my dad this weekend. I have no idea how to explain myself to him. The last time...” Draco stops abruptly at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Two 3rd year students walk in carrying a whole load of sweets whispering to each other in rapid conversation. Draco swiftly stands and informs them that they cannot be out of their dorms so late. They try to oppose but after a stern look from the tall, blonde-haired prefect they give in and return. He takes a second before turning back to me and saying “I think we both ought to go back to our beds as well, it has gotten quite late.”

I look up at him confused, “don't you want to finish what you were saying?”

He shakes his head while holding out a hand to me. “Maybe another time. I’m guessing this won't be the last time we bump into each other, here at this hour.”

I accept his tight grip and with a strong motion he lifts me from the ground. “No, I hope not anyway. This was nice.” I squeeze his hand gently before letting it go and picking up my things. 

His hand combs through his thick hair as he smiles shyly “It was.” He waits as I pick up the last of my books and we walk out together. As we get to the end of the hallway he stops and looks down at me, “are you sure you don't need help taking that stuff up?” I shake my head and with that he yawns. “Well then… good night y/n.” 

“Goodnight Draco.” I glance back as I’m walking up to my room and catch his eyes looking back at me. He instantly pulls his gaze away and for some reason I feel a little disappointed. Goodness me, was I really forming a crush on the Draco Malfoy?

Im writing a few different one shots that can be read on their own or in order for a full story. Here’s the masterlist!

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married. 

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?” 

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.” 

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?” 

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God. 

--

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her. 

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?” 

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination. 

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly. 

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop. 

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast. 

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long  — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded. 

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life. 

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure. 

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel. 

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung. 

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.” 

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good. 

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face. 

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.” 

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly. 

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity. 

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.” 

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off.  We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?” 

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within. 

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

 ---

 Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week. 

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously. 

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text. 

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change. 

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone. 

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan. 

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering. 

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now. 

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else. 

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January. 

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong? 

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe. 

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?” 

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud. 

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him. 

August 17 (tues 

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.  

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice. 

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor. 

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.” 

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.” 

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all. 

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.” 

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed. 

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?” 

Pierre patted his jacket pocket.  “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor. 

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

[collectivefandomstuff]

Hey mom! I’m stressed at 1am, any advice? I’m having trouble in school via studying sometimes it feels like we’re going from 0 to 100. And I need better study habits, do you have any advice? Bc sometimes it feels like I’m so afraid of failure that if I do study to my full potential (sounds weird) I feel like I loose the excuse of saying oh I got a bad score bc I goofed off. Like if I actually do all my effort to study and do bad, then is there something wrong with me??

(A/N: this answer is so long I almost feel ashamed to post it. I’m very sorry everyone. Anyway, if you’re looking for the concrete tips they’re at the end :) )

Hey :)

This doesn’t sound weird at all because I’m the exact same way. This way of thinking is actually more common than you’d think, and is often a part of the cognitive profile of perfectionism (btw, perfectionism isn’t that apt a name but I digress. Also, this way of thinking doesn’t mean you’re a perfectionist.). Anyway, I know a bunch of people who’ve experienced this, and the common factor isn’t fear of failure, but rather what it is you think you’re failing at. For example, I once told my therapist that I was super stressed over a bunch of stuff and I also had a paper I had to get done, and he asked me what would happen if I didn’t turn it in on time and I was like “academically? nothing. mentally? I wouldn’t be me anymore.” And that’s the stitch.

The people I know who struggle with this are often (though not exclusively) girls, and often people who’re pretty smart. They spent their childhood being told over and over that they were gifted, intelligent, and good at school. And back then, that was easy to live up to. They danced through the first few years of school without any issue, and enjoyed it a lot. They did their homework, understood stuff, and were usually “good kids”.

Now, we’re always growing and re-shaping our sense of self, but the foundations are lain when we’re children. So, when people around you keep identifying you as a smart/good student, then we start identifying ourselves like that too. Especially if it is being reinforced by your actual achievements. And then, suddenly, getting good grades isn’t about doing well or working hard, it’s about identity. It’s about who you are at your core. Thus, the stakes become infinitely higher. If you fail at a math test that you really studied for, then that means that you don’t have what it takes, and that means you are no longer yourself- the intelligent kid who’s good at school. A test might not be that anxiety-inducing, but losing your whole sense of self is. So, in that case procastination makes a lot of sense, because as long as you don’t fail while doing your best then you never put your identity on the line.

(This also applies if failing at school has become synonymous with being a failure, i.e. if you’ve been taught that doing well academically is the only way to be a successful/useful person in society, or if academic success has merged with the idea of a happy future so it feels like failing autmatically leads to an unhappy life. Essentially, mental structures that lead to a misconception of the stakes involved in a single exam/paper/task.)

That said, I do have some more practical things to say here. First off, sometimes we’re in a situation where we can’t do our best and that’s okay. I’ve failed exams, tests, papers, you name it and I still have my degree in the end. It’s never the end all of things.

Now, my own biggest freak out like this came when I started uni. My first paper I went completely insane and procrastinated like crazy, and I failed. And then the though crept in “what if I can’t do this? What if this is it. I can’t handle higher education, even if I try my hardest?” The anxiety was... big bad and mad.

I should say for this next part that my therapist once told me that I have a strangely aggressive approach to handling anxiety. Moving on. I sat down and said to myself “what is worse, to try my hardest and fail or half-ass it and never be able to live the life I want?” Since the answer was pretty obvious, I got to it. I had about 5 weeks until the next exam, and I sat down and planned every single hour until then. I studied for that damn test like I’ve never studied before, and whenever I felt anxious I would tell it to FUCK OFF and focus on the task I had planned. I didn’t allow myself to think beyond that first planning session, I just did what was next on the agenda. What am I supposed to do right now? read these 10 pages? Ok.

I’ve had two exams during my studies where I failed (the second due to the situation I was in) and ended up in this spiral. And here’s the funny thing: I have a small number of courses in uni where I got a higher grade. They include 1) courses that I found extremly interesting and 2) those two courses.

Okay! I know this is already so fucking long but I want to give you some actual tips too. Number one is obviously to plan. Take a whole day, sit down and plan the next month. Consider all your assignments, when they’re due, what you need to do to study, how long that’ll take and when that is done most efficiently. Plan everything in your calendar. Give yourself enough time for each task that you can do it even if you’re not super super focused. Do not study outside these hours. When you’re done for the day you’re done for the day. This way, there’s a clear, reachable end to each study session and you don’t feel as compelled to postpone tasks. When you sit down to study, don’t worry about the other stuff you have to do, or other subjects that you haven’t done yet. They’re all in the plan, all you have to do is what is in front of you. As long as you keep doing that you’ll make it. (If the plan goes to shit for some reason, take a day to plan a make a new one. It happens).

Some things to consider:

Different subjects are best studied in different ways. I used to set aside 15-30 minutes every day in high school for Italian, where I’d sit down and read the chapter we were working on out loud. I didn’t even focus that hard, I just did it every day- the chapter and the glossary. I STILL remember some sentences from that book. Math is best done in longer stretches, but not too long. 1-2 hours preferably. Think about how YOU work. Do you best read a textbook in one go or in increments? Do you learn better in a coffee-shop or your room? Silence? Music? This can also change depending on your subject. Plan accordingly.

For reading, time your reading speed for the book. Read a page at normal speed and clock it, then multiply that by the pages you need to read to see how much time you’ll have to plan for. Round up to give yourself room for spacing out.

Plan for breaks. Think about your normal need for it, but the uni standard is 15 minutes for every 45, making an even hour. Find a break activity that’s has a specific end, for example making some more tea/coffee and snacks and doing some stretches, or maybe playing one race in mario kart. Avoid things that you can get stuck doing beyond the alotted break time.

Buffers. For every five hours or so, plan one hour of buffer time. This is time that you can use if something takes longer than expected. If you do everything as planned, this is surprise free time! :D If you have a long study session, plan 30 minute buffers every two or three hours to be used for extra breaks and to keep panic at bay. Buffers will save your life.

Make a chart with different tasks and have little boxes that you get to fill in with fun colours when you’re done. If you have to read 100 pages, do a bar with ten boxes, that way you can see your progress visually.

Plan for days/evenings that are free. Plan what you’re going to do those days, like “movie night with X”, “play videogames and eat cupcakes”, “take a long bath and read a good book”. That way, you use your free time well and can use those days and evenings as incentive.

Prioritize your work. If you have too much to do, make a list of what’s most to least important and focus on doing the important stuff first. This includes studying tasks. What’s more important, reading that text for the third time or really understanding integrals?

Drink lots of water and eat sugar. It’s brain food. I usually bake before an intense week. That way when I feel myself going down I can go get a cupcake instead of taking time to make something to eat, or worse- try to soldier through which never works.

I hope this helped a little at least :) Good Luck! I believe in you! 💙💜