#Remembers the heart on the card post I made and cackles

[shima-draws]

Don't you draw Perryshmirtz anymore?

Not currently, bc I’m not in the PnF fandom at the moment :’) I’m sure I’ll end up rewatching the show eventually (probably around the time when the new seasons air) so I guarantee I’ll be back to making art for those two goobers at some point lol

[cinnaminsvga]

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady. 

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine. 

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning. 

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!” 

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him. 

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not. 

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets. 

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly. 

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched. 

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples. 

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great. 

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet. 

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first. 

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak! 

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke. 

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly. 

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease. 

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time. 

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. 

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before. 

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

[datawyrms]

Half a Decade Late

Valerie was finally promoted to the main headquarters of the Guys in White. There she finally comes face to face with Phantom, who disappeared five years ago, locked in a cell. For Phic Phight 2021, @lexosaurus' prompt!

Nothing proved ’harder workers get ahead’ was only a capitalist lie than the absolute hassle getting promotions within the GIW. Of course she’d gone right to them for employment, it was the only organization large enough to actually pay people that took her resume of ghost hunting seriously. She had experience, actual knowledge and even her own gear but had still spent years getting jerked around to various small operations, basically just using her to train all their useless recruits while still just considering her a ‘fellow’ field agent. It wasn’t like she had the option to quit in protest, no one else was in the market for ghost hunters. As far as most people knew ‘ghost intelligence’ was just a joke cover story that the agents were very attached to. They didn’t want any more Amity Parks, so if she wanted to live somewhere new and still do her job...these guys were it. She’d been very clear, she wanted to be in the main office, where everything happened. That didn’t stop them from constantly assigning her literally anywhere but the actual headquarters. Maybe they finally ran out of other places, she still half expected to get stopped at the door and be told about a new field mission they absolutely needed her on immediately. It didn’t happen. Valerie Grey finally got to clock in as an Ecto Containment Officer at the main branch. Where they kept the strongest creatures, developed the new anti-ghost equipment and did more than just splattering a ghost down to nothing. Sure, she liked a good ghost obliterating, but it got boring after a while. There were only so many ways a ghost could beg for it’s useless afterlife before it became white noise. It didn’t stop any new ones from showing up, or tell her anything new. Just got rid of one pest, permanently. That wouldn’t help explain some ghosts, the powerful ones that showed up again and again. It wouldn’t explain the one that stopped showing up either. There was no way that life ruining ghost just got ‘bored’ and vanished without notice. It was still out there, plotting something. She just knew it in her bones. She had to be ready for it. There were traces of that ghost, hints of his ectosignature that she came across in the field, he was still out there. The GIW was just a means to an end, she didn’t trust them to be ready alone.

Sterile corridors and simplistic signs were expected, but even the break area was doing its best impression of a frozen tundra. Fantastic for morale? Probably not. Made the coffee pot easy to spot, at least. Even if she preferred to avoid the stuff in uniform. It stained too easily, and just made her wish for her red battle suit. She took a cup to at least have an excuse for her scoping out the place, she could pass it off to someone once she got to the containment area. A quick double check that everything was in place at the mirror before heading right back out to the winding halls. She wasn’t going to be late, she didn’t have time for that. Maybe a red tie was against protocol, but no one had been stupid enough to bother her about it yet. Judging from the deferential nods from her latest coworkers, that wouldn’t be changing. No one who worked here couldn’t know who she was. The only Ghost Hunter who got out of Amity Park without getting corrupted by the ectoplasmic monsters. It was a shame, Jack and Maddie Fenton used to be a serious force for humanity. Five years ago they suddenly flipped the script, denouncing their work and calling for peace with unreasonable fiends. Their daughter Jazz likely had something to do with it, but Valerie had her own theories. Danny, her friend and once boyfriend had gone missing around that time. Leverage to ensure the Fenton’s ‘good behaviour?’ The whole thing reeked of ghosts. To think she might have gone the same way. Back then she was actually listening to the pest, starting to really consider them a ‘good’ ghost. Like that was actually possible, when he’d just been playing to emotion and her own desire to give up in fighting a dangerous foe over and over. So much for that. That monster showed it’s true colours, sure enough. Something the GIW never bothered to look into, even as she wrote report after report about the incident, how unlikely it was for the Fentons of all people to change that drastically without constant possession. Not worth the resources, even when it was easy to see what tech was built on the foundations the couple had laid. They were throwing away so much to focus on little outbreaks of ghosts instead of making more of a lasting change. Stupid. That was what the funding was ‘meant’ to go towards, as if helping the Fentons would be less productive than making a slightly different ectogun.

She almost hoped there would be a problem, just to prove this is where she should have always been.Even if it seemed distinctly unlikely. She had to swipe to get into the lab, then yet again to actually get to the cells. Or the ‘vault’, as if the higher ups wanted to pretend the creatures in there were inert materials instead of cunning and dangerous beings. Even though they had someone posted at each door, and someone on guard inside as well, herself today. To get acquainted with the place mostly, she had more than enough training on ‘proper handling’ procedures.

“Hey, you can swap with me today, if you want.”

Valerie blinked, eyebrow already raised at the posted guard’s suggestion. “I can handle watching caged ghosts.”

They had the sense to look embarrassed, taking their hand away from the oversized ectogun to loosen their tie- which was tied rather poorly now that she got a better look at it. “I’m sure you can, it’s just, well.” They wouldn’t stop fidgeting with their tie now, eyes checking that no one was really paying attention to the guards. “H0G02 is awake today. No one likes those days.”

“Then all the more reason to get used to it early.” She didn’t give them time to sputter another excuse, swiping her card and striding past without another look. As if people should be worried about a captive ghost being awake. Maybe some of the people here never got a spine before joining up.

It wasn’t as cold as she expected it to be. Or as dark. It was actually brighter, thanks to the extra row of fluorescent lights. On some level she expected the room to reflect the monsters kept here, a shadowy icebox of a space. Of course it wasn’t. These were defeated creatures under human control, of course their cages would be bright and clean, the air warmed for human comfort. The ghosts might not like it, but why care what they wanted? It wasn’t like there were many to begin with, mostly green oversized vermin with blank red eyes. Most had the sense to cower back as she walked past, but a fair few didn’t even twitch. Calling a ghost of all things lifeless was foolish, but it was the only word coming to mind...she had to focus. She didn’t pity these things. Why so many creatures though? The real dangerous ones, the most monstrous ones were the ones that could play human, the ones that had conniving minds that only worked to cause destruction and terror. These were just feral things, annoying but hardly more impressive than a coyote when you knew what to do. Half of them she’d barely rate above ‘feral cat’. A light near the back flickered. Strange. When it flickered a second time she was already releasing her helmet to pull it on. Not nearly as easy as just willing it on, but at least she could carry it in a pocket without needing to rely on some ghost’s power. Three steps and her gun was ready, not that she expected to need it. Really, she worked on autopilot, legs still moving as she stared at the largest glass cage at the back of the room. Or more accurately, at what was in it.

“Oh, newbie. ‘Sup.” The ghost rasped out, blank green eyes watching the ghost hunter. A teenaged boy with a shock of white hair, a black jumpsuit, but the voice of a seventy year old chain smoker. Just sitting in a painfully bright cell, watching. Not exactly as she remembered him, but close enough.

“You.” The disgust was easy to voice, even as her brain struggled to catch up. He was here? Looking practically exactly as he had when she was still a soft hearted freelancer?

He only gave a sputtering laugh at the aggression. “Me? You’re not that mad about the light, are you? I’m bored, Tie.”

“What are you doing here?” That wasn’t the important question really, she should be more concerned that he apparently was able to manipulate light fixtures from his cell...but she’d been hunting after this ghost for five years. Protocol could go shove itself up the director’s ass.

“Same thing I do every day Tie, being some government property!” His laugh was wrong, not from amusement like she remembered. A desperate cackle that didn’t fool anyone. “You new enough to still have your soul in there?”

“Answer the question, Phantom.”

The smirk slid off the ghost’s face. “Wh’ad you call me? Like I’m only calling you Tie cus the red sticks out, I can call you Shooty if you don’t like it, newbie.”

The response made her insides run cold. It had to be Phantom, and the terrible sense of humour was just like him- but the ghost wasn’t quite right. What was this? It couldn’t be some copy of the ghost kid, could it? “I called you by your name, ghost.”

“Never heard of em.” The ghost crossed his legs and looked away, apparently bored of the person holding a weapon. “What day is it?”

Surely he was playing around. “What do you think your name is, then?”

He didn’t take his attention off the ceiling, looking more bored than anything.“Day first, Tie. Gotta know how much of a head start I’ve got.”

“Like you’re in any position to bargain.”

“Hm? Whatcha gonna do Tie? Let me be unconscious for a few hours? Scary. Day first.”

There was the Phantom she knew, snide and sarcastic when he really had no business being so. “I could do worse than that.”

“Doubt it. You gun grunts gotta listen to the freaks out there, remember?” His shoulders shook with a silent laughter, but it looked more like spasms. “No more mishandling the goods, yeah? Day Tie, comeonnnnnn”

Since when was he so interested in the calendar? Not to mention how weird it was how he kept referring to himself...and pretending he didn’t know his name. “It’s Monday.”

That got his attention, the casual rocking halting as he looked at her again, disturbingly still. “Monday, really?”

“Lying is your thing, not mine.”

He grinned. “I like you Tie, so you’ll probably be fired in like a week. Maybe it’s the red.” The tension left the ghost completely, she hadn’t even noticed how stiffly he’d been sitting until his spine relaxed as his elbows rested on his legs. “Pretty sure I’m H0G02. Least that’s what all your creeps call me.”

There was no way Phantom of all ghosts would call himself ‘H0G02’. He had to be a mimic of some sort, a ghost that modelled himself on the once well known Amity Park menace. “You like me because I told you it was Monday? Seriously?”

“I like the Mondays more than you, if that helps.”

“Not particularly.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” He was watching her again, more curious than anything. She shouldn’t be glad to see a spark of something in those eyes, but he was far less creepy this way.

“What’s so great about Monday? You’re a ghost.” She didn’t really care. She should be asking important questions. She was just...playing along to see if it really was Phantom. That didn’t stop her for being grateful for the helmet.

“Monday is the farthest day away from Friday.”

“Wouldn’t that be Saturday?”

“It hasn’t been Saturday or Sunday for...like four years? Those days don’t exist, I think you humans made ‘em up to prank me.” Phantom shrugged, sounding completely serious. Not even a hint of amusement or a grin. “Pretty good one, all you new guys keep it up.”

He was going to be completely useless if he kept saying nonsense. How could he be useful in finding out what happened to the Fenton’s son if he couldn’t even talk about the days of the week sensibly? “Fine, what’s so bad about Friday then.”

“Ohhhhh, you’re really new, Tie.” the ghost flopped onto his side, bored of sitting up apparently. “You know, the day they keep me around for? That day.” He wasn’t quite still, his right shoulder moving very, very carefully. Hiding something.

She didn’t have the patience for this.“What are you hiding there.”

“Tie has good eyes. Gotta remember that.” Phantom muttered, getting onto his back, a blue shard of ice melting off his arm.

“You don’t really think that some ice would help you out of there?”

“Out?” He looked mystified by the suggestion, but that could more be seeing his face upside down. “That glass doesn’t break for anything, I should know.”

Which didn’t explain why he’d been trying to hide the fact he’d made ice at all. He knew it too, but apparently playing stupid was still one of his favourite tactics. “Knock it off and just answer me.”

Phantom’s frown didn’t change, green eyes staring intently at her helmet as if hoping to see through it. “I could show you why?”

It didn’t sound like a threat. “Sure, why not. It’s gonna be a long day.” If it was? Then she’d show him that she wasn’t someone he could mess with.

Ice wrapped itself around the ghost’s lower arm alarmingly quick, a wickedly sharp blade of ice with serrated teeth jutting from the scrawny arm at an awkward angle. It was practised, something this ghost must have done often in all the time he’d been gone from her life. Yet it was so different from how Phantom usually chose to fight. That was a weapon to tear and maim, not to shock, stun or bruise. It looked wrong on him. The idea that this ghost wasn’t Phantom at all only grew more credible with that thing on his arm, even if ice powers were to be expected. His eyes flicked back to green, still fixated on her as he lifted the arm and stabbed down hard. Right into his other arm. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you doing!” She couldn’t remember the last time Phantom had ever been frightening on some primal level. This- with the disturbing snap of bone as the edges of the blade caught and tore made her hair stand on end. “Stop that, Phantom. What’s wrong with you!?”

“Cancelling Friday.” Phantom was laughing as the blade melted away into the pool of green rapidly spreading from his self inflicted wound. “I said you’d probably get fired Tie.”

“Forget Friday you idiot, cover the wound so you stop splattering everywhere!” He was just a ghost-a ghost messing with her. A ghost she’d fought with and had heard scream in pain. This...thing wasn’t him. Her heart didn’t care what her mind thought, insisting he needed help.

The ghost sat up, his left arm holding on by a shred of his suit before splattering into the puddle, but the left behind stump stopped dripping almost as quickly as he’d lost the limb. “Aw. Maybe Tie does have some soul left. You actually sound worried.”

“Of course I am! You slashed your arm off!”

“So?”

He didn’t seem to be in pain. If it wasn’t for the mess of green and the lack of a limb, she’d almost say she imagined it. Why did she care? “You wouldn’t do this sort of thing.”

“Uh. Yes I would? You just saw me do it. I’m down for an encore.”

The idea just made her feel ill. “Don’t.” Did she want this to be Phantom or not? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well I’m down an arm. So the coats are going to be very whiny about how much ectoplasm they can get out of me.”

“You must have felt that.”

“Sure. Isn’t nearly as bad as when they start ripping as much ectoplasm as they can out of you. Every single Friday.” He actually rolled his eyes, like she should just know this.

Why did they bother keeping Phantom around if they just wanted ectoplasm? He might be strong, but no ghost had limitless amounts. They’d just fall apart and stop existing. That’s why the weakest ones never even left the Ghost Zone, they couldn’t survive without constantly being around the stuff! “What makes you so special then? Not your attitude.”

“I’m just lucky enough to make my own ectoplasm. Who knew food was easier to get then high grade ectoplasm? Not me.” His remaining arm pointed to her weapon, his smile stretching. “Bet ya your weapon’s fully powered from Fridays. Yours and every other thing they use in this hellhole.”

“Ghosts can’t do that.” The lie was absurd. It went against everything they knew about ghosts, even before food entered the equation.

“Y’know, Tie. I think I knew a ghost hunter that wore red once.” the ghost’s eyes went unfocused, unmoving as he looked listlessly into space. “It’s a good colour.”

“You knew me. Quit fooling around with this not remembering crap.” Valerie threw her helmet aside, no longer caring. She had to know who this ghost really was. She had to know if everything he was blathering about was a lie. So what if it wasn’t ‘safe’.

His eyes didn’t change. “Y’know how hard it is to remake a brain? Cut me some slack Tie…”

“I mean it. Look at me Phantom. If you’re the ghost I know, you can stop pretending to be something else.”

“You lose the details. Arms and legs are easy. The brain though? Way too hard.” He kept rambling to himself, not reacting even as she put a hand to the glass to get his attention. “Y’know how many times they’ve cut it open? I don’t. I lose track after like. Eleven. Maybe. Pointy Shoe said my best was fifteen but I sure don’t remember that.”

She wanted him to just stop talking. She wanted this ghost to be some strange creature she didn’t know. To not have the only possible link to someone long lost a shattered husk. “Phantom. Do you remember the hunter in red’s name?”

He finally blinked. “I’m not this Phantom guy, Tie.”

“Okay, whatever, forget that part. The ghost hunter in red, what do you remember?” She insisted, knocking again in hopes it would keep the ghost’s focus.

“Wish I’d told em something.” he held up his gloved hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t remember what that something was, don’t ask.”

So he was Phantom? He couldn’t be. That was so non-specific it could be anything. “You never explained how you’re the only ghost that can make their own ectoplasm.”

“It’s in my name Tie! Come on. Thought you guys were smart or whatever.” He did a very awkward one armed attempt at crossing it, eyebrow raised. “The H? The feeding a ghost food thing?”

She didn’t really get the whole naming scheme they used here. The fact it mattered wasn’t making her gut unclench either. “What about the H?

“Hybrid? Might have been Human. That might have been a joke.”

Valarie’s mouth was drier than any desert when he said it that easily, that casualty while kicking his own arm aside. “You’re saying you aren’t all ghost.”

“Yup. Not yet! Trust me, I’ve tried,” the bubbly high pitched laugher clawed out of the ghost at that. “I tried so much. Guess it’s another thing I’m a failure at, eh Tie?”

Something told her not to ask. She had to know. Five years she waited, five years apparently knocked Phantom clear from reality.“Does Danny Fenton mean anything to you?”

He just laughed harder at the question. “Really Tie?”

“Yes, really.”

“That’s the name I scream at em. Don’t know why. Feels good though.”

“Is it your name?” Had he had contact with Danny? Been part of whatever made him go missing from everyone’s lives? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

“They get reallllll angry when I say it is.”

There was no way the GIW had a human captive for five years. There was no way Phantom could be the Danny she knew. The ghost was just lying. He had to be, she desperately needed him to be. “Were you fused with a human or something? Got stuck when possessing someone?”

“Nah. Been like this before I got here, pretty sure. You can check your fancy gear though. There’s some non-ghost DNA in it. Lucky lucky me,” he lay back down in the mess of ectoplasm, ignoring how it clung to his hair. “Thanks for the Friday off! I hate those.”

There was no reason to need air. Talking to a ghost she didn’t even like shouldn’t make her feel like she was being crushed under a boulder. Panting for air, outside the room would make her look pathetic and weak, but she needed the space, needed to be away from that...mockery of a ghost.

“He does that to everyone. He’ll repeat the whole thing in a week or so, but he’s a really good copy the first time you see it.” The guard gave a comforting word, apparently unsurprised by her sudden unscheduled departure.

Oh, there would be no ‘next time.’ Not if he was right about her weapon. But she nodded instead, letting her ‘coworker’ think she was just overwhelmed. Even if all she could think of was how many ways this place would burn if that ghost- that thing had been a human once. She was good at telling when ghosts lied. Phantom didn’t sound like he had. No matter how much she tried to convince herself he did.

[5uptic]

hey fanfic spotlight again:)

arm candy by amsves (5up/Fundy, general rating, m/m | 300 words)

Summary: The first thing Fundy does after the stream ends is lean over and engulf 5up in his arms.

a chance encounter by mangoedges (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 450 words)

Summary: Who would have thought Apollo would find his soulmate now?

Desecration Smile by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: No summary.

She said to me, Oh Death / Come close my eyes by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve thought the words on his wrist were the coolest thing ever, but they just didn’t make sense. No, really; he even asked 5up–had called him in a possibly drunk state on his twentieth birthday, when a prickling sensation on his arm made him think that he was about to die, 5up, help, and was reminded drily that it was his soulmark, dumbass–and the best his smartest friend (self-proclaimed) could offer was, “Maybe your soulmate’s a poet?” Completely useless. Steve remembered hanging up on him, the click of his mobile cutting off his indignant exclamation. It was only the next day that he looked, properly looked, at his soulmark and tried to make sense of it. Nope. That didn’t work out either; he blamed the hangover. For the longest time ever, he just dismissed it as the universe fucking up. A slash in the middle of a phrase? Ridiculous.

why’d you only call me when you’re high? by LVTO (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I miss you,” Steve mumbles through the phone, and his voice has that soft, honest tone that it always does when he’s like this. 5up’s heart clenches. It’s these moments that keep him from leaving like he should’ve done four months ago, these soft-spoken truths that time and time again have him believing that maybe, maybe this time will be different. It never is. or 5up receives a phone call and ponders his life.

jealousy, jealousy by planetwitch (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy are best friends and have never crossed that line into something more. Until Fundy gets jealous at 5up's constant admiration for a certain 6 foot tall musician.

mimi's menagerie of the miraculous & the mundane by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a drabble for the word of the day, every day, for 100 days.

5up & Co. Throw Yarn at a Wall (and more) by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 1.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Hafu neither confirmed nor denied, instead snatching the half unraveled ball of yarn out of his hands forcefully, a cheshire grin finding its way onto her face. Before 5up could clearly decipher the situation, she flung it at him, smacking him directly in the center of his face. or 5up loves throwing yarn at walls, and everyone else quickly picks it up from him. But in different ways.

Inside My Mind by SilverSprinklez10 (5up/Apollo, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: Soulmates are usually a blessing.  But sometimes, a soulmate connection can feel like a curse.

(2021, 190 x 172 cm, oil on canvas) by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.9k words)

Summary: Nobody ever painted anything if they’ve never painted the way 5up closes his eyes when he laughs, how his slender fingers wrap around a new tube of paint, how his smile is all teeth and eye-crinkling. Cabanel’s Fallen Angel has curls, but they aren’t 5up’s, are they? Hyllas, in the nymphs, has fair and delicate hands but 5up’s are prettier, especially when he accidentally squirts paint everywhere and slams his palms on the table and goes “fuck!” Steve cackles until he can’t breathe.

Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied by AoDity, LovelyDayForIt (5up/Sleepy, 5up/Apollo, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words)

Summary: "Sleepy found the ring by luck, something that matches his lover's graceful beauty that he could still afford. Twisted strands of thin silver with a little shimmering opal in the center, it was perfect." Aka: Sleepy's love for Five brought him heartache. If they try, there's still a chance the two could be happy.

implying that the ferris wheel's your body (and i'd really love admission to it) by homeward_bound (David/Hafu/Steve, mature rating, multi | 2.2k words)

Summary: Steve might be drunk out of his mind, but David's just really hot, okay? [or, steve propositions david, kind of. hafu and dumbdog bear witness to his lapse in judgement.]

mi casa es su casa by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.9k words)

Summary: Apollo's soulmate is cautious. Except, apparently, when it comes to coffee. Because, for the fifth time this week, Apollo wakes up to a burnt tongue. It's annoying. He can't really be mad though, because he has given his soulmate so much worse. The occasional burnt tongue is a meager act of penance, comparatively.

I love you too (I love you too) by some_spooky_shit_right_there (5up/Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 3.9k words)

Summary: Apollo comes into 5up's coffee shop. He always gets a cup of coffee and either a bagel or a croissant. He always seems tired, and he never comes in on weekends. Steve would really love to find out just who, exactly, he is.

i'm more fool than wise by 5fu (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steven Suptic is a brilliant crewmate - ask anyone. Okay so don't ask Janet. Or Dk. Or Koji. You know what, don't even ask - it's pretty obvious he is. But when new recruit and stunningly intelligent 5up boards the Crewfu, Steve isn't so sure he can compete. Not that he cares. Totally. Absolutely. On their mission to gather intel on Polus and find out what happened to the previous crew that disappeared from the planet three years earlier, Steve may realize that maybe he was indeed more fool than wise - and maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

i was praying that you and me might end up together by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Four years at Polus University. Four first weeks of school. Two strangers become two friends, and maybe even something more. Apollo hates being seen, hates having attention drawn to him, hates living in a world that feels like a game where everyone knows the rules except him. Steve thrives on attention, purposefully draws the gaze of everyone in the room, making his own rules as he floats through life. They're a match made in hell, but Apollo finds that when Steve looks at him, gives him nothing but attention, he doesn't mind being seen after all.

Long Journey Home by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 9.6k words)

Summary: Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue Feeling kind of blue, boys, feeling kind of blue Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue I'm on my long journey home

there’s so many ways to say “i love you” and i wouldn’t wanna waste ‘em (on someone who, don’t feel it too) by Dear_MaedaysUnwelcomedGhost (5up/Steve, 5up/Hafu, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 13k words, chaptered)

Summary: Love was a strange thing, 5up found. It was everywhere. And not in the way it may seem. It wasn’t in the adverts of perfect couples with artificial lighting. It wasn’t in the glittery cards made by factories or the flowers sold at grocery stores. Not in the TV shows made to bring in cash and be thrown out, with couples who don’t have anything to hold onto but brief infatuation and physical attraction. But in the friendly smiles of strangers as they pass by. In a mother cutting fruit up for their child. Running a hand through the hair of your partner, as their eyes flutter close and to sleep. Helping a stranger pick up their dropped papers, asking for nothing in return. In the graffiti on the wall by the alleyway you walk by everyday to get to work. To the goods baked by small independent bakeries. Flowers planted in parks to make it just a little nicer, or the ones growing out of pavement cracks with determination.

Also!

GuardianPuppy‘s this city needs to be destroyed or at least painted in a different color collection.

spaded_ace’s Casino in the Sky collection.

5fu’s among all this pain collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[jaskierswolf]

Hi lovely Wolfie!

Lambden Lambden Lambden!

That’s it, that’s the prompt.

💖💖💖

Love u!

I went for Christmassy Lambden! It’s just over 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, and mentions of sex?

______________________________

Aiden was in the middle of a routine on the dance mat when the power cut out and they were plunged into darkness. The TV crackled as it snapped off and he felt his heart sink. He’d been working on that routine all fucking day and he was sure that time had been a top score.

“Mother fucker!” He cursed and fumbled for his phone.

“What the fuck did you do?” Lambert yelled from his bedroom and the living room lit up in the bright glow of his torch on Aiden’s phone.

Aiden rolled his eyes at his housemate. He was utterly gorgeous and brilliant but at time he could be such a moron. He sighed as he flopped down onto the sofa. “I’m brilliant at many things, sweetheart, but I cannot control the weather. The snow must have cut the power. It hasn’t stopped all day.”

Lambert stalked into the room holding up his own phone as a torch. The light cast eery shadows around the flat and made Lambert look like some kind of Ghost of Christmas. “Does that mean the heating is out as well?”

Aiden nodded with a smirk. “That’s how it works.”

Lambert ruffled his hair roughly and Aiden whined. Lambert, being the little shit that is was, sat on Aiden’s feet with huff. “It’s fucking freezing outside.”

“Oh really?” Aiden drawled. “I hadn’t noticed, what with the snow.”

“Shut it, kitten.”

Aiden sighed and let his head roll back onto the sofa arm. Lambert was right, for once. The temperature would soon drop and fast. They would need to get layers on and blankets to preserve heat, and maybe light a few candles. The torches on their phones wouldn’t last very long without needing to charge them. Aiden dug his feet into Lambert’s thighs.

“Oi!”

“Get up, wolf. We need to get blankets.”

“You could’ve asked nicely,” Lambert grumbled but stood up and pulled Aiden to his feet.

Aiden gripped Lambert’s forearm and, not for the first time, delighting in the feel of Lambert’s muscles under his fingers. Aiden wasn’t weak, quite the contrary, he was just as lethal in a fight as Lambert was when he needed to me but Lambert was built like a house, whereas Aiden preferred to dance around his opponent and strike them when they least expect it. Not that he got into that many fights, but he had a quick temper and the criminal record to prove it.

Aiden pulled himself into Lambert’s space and brushed his lips against his ear. “We need to get blankets, please,” he purred and then cackled as Lambert shoved him hard in the chest and he fell back onto the sofa.

He couldn’t see in the dark but he knew Lambert was blushing. It was so easy to wind his friend up. He was pretty sure Lambert fancied him but his friend was also allergic to feelings so Aiden was doing his best to be patient. It was hard when Lambert looked like a fucking god, and Aiden was not used to waiting. Lambert was worth the effort though. He would always be worth the effort, the fucking bastard. Aiden smirked as he remembered how awkwardly Lambert had been when he’d first moved in. Lambert had kept to his room for the first week, but slowly and surely they’d become best friends.

Aiden just knew they could be the best lovers too. He just had to wait, but with the power out, maybe tonight was the time to make his move.

Together they gathered up all the blankets in the two bedroom house and rifled through the cupboards for some old candles. One had been left behind from Aiden’s last housemate and smelled like apple and cinnamon, like Christmas. Aiden had switched off his phone for now, they had Lambert’s until it ran out of battery, but he was sure he was going to die of boredom. They had no tv, no playstation, no internet. He couldn’t even read properly by candle light and it wasn’t as if they could spend the entire evening making out or fucking each other senseless… not yet at least. It was already starting to get cold even with the pile of blankets so Aiden curled up closer to his friend.

“Get off.”

“It’s cold and you’re practically a radiator. Share your warmth with me, darling.”

Lambert growled but draped his arm over Aiden’s shoulders. Aiden grinned in the darkness; point to him. Once he was sure Lambert had gotten used to the snuggling he sighed dramatically as he ran a finger down Lambert’s chest.

“Sing for me, wolf.”

“What? No!”

“Oh go on, I know you have that guitar hidden in your room. The walls aren’t that thick,” Aiden pouted at his friend in the darkness, barely refraining from commenting on what else he could hear through those thin walls. He needed to play his cards right and mistimed innuendos were not the way to go.

“Will you let me up to get it?” Lambert sighed wearily.

Aiden considered this, continuing to trace pretty pictures on Lambert’s chest seeing as he wasn’t stopping him. “No, come on, wolf. Sing me a Christmas song! It’s only two days away.”

“Which one?”

Aiden grinned and began to sing. “I really can’t stay,”

There was a pause and Aiden jabbed his friend under the ribs and repeated his line, Lambert snarled but there was a begrudging. “But baby, it’s cold outside.”

Aiden giggled. “I’ve got to go away.”

“But baby, it’s cold outside,” Lambert sang more clearly this time and Aiden basked in the warm baritone of his voice.

“This evening has been…”

“Been hoping that you’ll drop by.”

“So very nice,”

“Ok that’s enough,” Lambert grumbled.

Aiden rolled his eyes and swapped roles. “I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice,” He cooed and he took Lambert’s hand in his and then pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Aiden?” Lambert stammered.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He whispered with his lips still brushing Lambert’s wrist.

“What? Why?” Lambert cut himself off with a growl.

Aiden gazed up at his friend. His gorgeous red curls shone in the flickering candle light and he looked utterly divine. Really no one could blame Aiden for trying. He was completely smitten. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to decipher what Lambert was trying to say. He hadn’t pulled away or shoved Aiden to the floor yet which was better than he’d been hoping for, but he was struggling. Aiden dropped Lambert’s hand reluctantly  and reached up to catch one of Lambert’s curls in his fingers. “May I?”

Lambert hummed.

“Wolf?”

“Yes.”

Aiden nodded and slowly ran his fingers through Lambert’s hair. He shifted in his seat and swung his legs round so he was sitting in Lambert’s lap, straddling his waist. He gently brushed the curls away from Lambert’s face. His friend hummed and closed eyes, gradually relaxing under Aiden’s touch.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” He purred as he cupped Lambert’s cheek.

“Fuck off,” Lambert growled and buried his face in Aiden’s neck.

Aiden sighed and carried on stroking his hands through Lambert’s hair. “Please tell me I’ve not completely misread the situation, Lambert?”

Lambert groaned. “No.”

Aiden closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. He smiled softly to himself in the darkness and pressed a kiss to Lambert’s hair before singing softly. “Gosh, your lips look delicious.”

“It’s dark. You can’t see shit.”

“Humour me, darling,” He purred as he gently tugged at Lambert’s hair, pulling his head up so he could see him again.

“Hmm.”

“Can I kiss you?” Lambert nodded but stayed very still so Aiden slowly moved in and placed a kiss on Lambert’s nose. “Again?” Another nod so Aiden kissed Lambert’s cheek. “Again?”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Lambert’s hands gripped the collar of Aiden’s jumper and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Aiden laughed into the kissed but wrapped his arms around Lambert’s neck. Maybe they could spend the power cut making out after all.

________________

Tag list: @marvagon, @elliestormfound @slythnerd @caspertheassholeghost @feraljaskier @artistsfuneral @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @geraskier-trashh @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the second week of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Every weekend, we’re compiling all of the fics from that week into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

blinded by the sparks

 A fic by wallstracktwo on AO3 | @wallstracktwo on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.”

Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.”

That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question.

“Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.”

Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.

somewhere in between

A fic by soldouthaz on AO3 | @soldouthaz on Tumblr | soldouthaz on Twitter

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers.

There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant.

Shit.

On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine 

A fic by Safetypinprince on AO3 | @roselouis on Tumblr | femboyIouis on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.  

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

Alternatively titled: and they were roommates.

A Silent Whisper (That's Left Unsaid)

A fic by MyEnglishRose on AO3 | @lwtisloved on Tumblr | darlinlou on Twitter

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“So… we’re doing this?”

Louis shrugs, suddenly acting disinterested.

“Your call, Curly.”

Instead of a verbal response, Harry suddenly takes Louis’ left hand in his. The black ring seems to nag him as the fire’s light reflects its polished edges. He ignores Louis’ curious gaze as he quickly takes off one of his own rings — the rose one —, sliding it on Louis’ middle finger. It is a little large and when he lets go of his hand, Louis has to curl it into a fist so the ring doesn’t immediately fall off.

“We’ll tell them it’s a promise ring, not an actual engagement,” Harry declares, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks feel. Hopefully, it can’t be seen as he is facing away from the fireplace.

“Right… could have gotten me a fitted ring though, my Harry ten years ago was more thoughtful.”

Louis’ tone is light and teasing again. It creates a small smile on Harry’s lips.

“Someday,” he whispers before he even registers it himself.

They both ignore it.

Or. A Fake Relationship & Exes to Lovers AU ft a failed proposal ten years ago, an oblivious Harry, an overworked Louis, Zayn as the protective best friend, a meddling aunt and a lot of talks about weddings and rings.

sweet like honey

A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter

33k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.

It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction.

Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.

For a while, it’s enough.

-

Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

Spoonful of Sugar

A fic by zanni_scaramouche on AO3 | @zanniscaramouche on Tumblr

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry Styles.  

A name better suited for a myth than a man. Like the name of the devil, people either whisper it in fear or laugh it off as fable. Cut it open and this city’s heart doesn’t bleed red. It’s snowy white, and it pulses in the tight grip of Lucifer himself.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

Let's Break the Internet

A fic by louizsv on AO3 | @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount on Tumblr | piccadillyplum on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face, “If you actually make an account and sell nudie pics and porn for more than three months, I’ll believe you.”

Louis purses his lips, ignoring the returning blush on his cheeks at the thought of having to film himself in compromising positions or taking photos of himself without any clothes on. Raising his chin defiantly, Louis accepts the challenge.

“Fine,” he agrees, “But when I win, you have to make one too.”

Lips quirked, Sam nods and holds out a hand, “Deal.” -- Or, the one where Louis is an Only Fans baby.

in a sea of mist

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

126k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

---

View the other roundup posts here:

Week #1 Fic Roundup

[starlightshadowsworld]

We don't talk enough about the absolute fever dream that was Yugioh GX season 2, specifically the Dub.

I had to rewatch part of it to write that post on Seto adopts Jaden, Aster and Jadens friendship plan thingy cos I couldn't remember shit.

And I lost my shit when Aqua Dolphin showed up (I just kept quoting that one post from the blog Bastion-erasure: If it weren't for the laws of this land I would have slaughtered Neo Spacian Aqua Dolphin.)

Jaden had the most realistic reaction to a talking dolphin telling him to be the chosen one.

Also, why isn't the fact he'd the gentle darkness not made more a big deal like sheesh! Come on guys it's so crucial and he's fighting the light of destruction... AHHH.

I... Am gonna calm down now. But I will never let that go.

Everything Aster said was pure gold, don't know why his hair went white for 5 seconds tho. Love his and Jadens friendship

I wish the spirits talking was used more, Neos was amazing.

Kaiba was there, amazing wonderful this asshole cackling on live TV good for him.

... We aren't talking about the T-Rex or I will lose my mind.

Tho, Jaden's voice when he tells Syrus he's not joking about not being able to see his cards and needs to chill by himself 🥺my heart... Also side note Chazz looked and was the most concerned and we love to see it.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch. 3)

tw: Implied drinking

Word count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

AN: Please check the bottom for info about my 150 follower special!

Masterlist | prev | next

ch 3: No new notifications (13 weeks)

“Cheers! To the best, most hard-working Manager I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, who is doing a kickass job in her life. This is all for you, bestie!” Kuroo pointed at her, brandishing his red solo cup. The room broke into cheers as she began to glow cherry-red. She glanced down to the phone in her hand. No new notifications. 

“Congratulations (Name)!” Yaku grinned, tapping his cup against hers. She tucked her phone back into her pocket as she took a sip of the sparkling apple cider.

Kai stood beside her, elbowing her slightly. “We always knew you could do it.” 

“He’s so embarrassing,” she huffed, cheeks puffing up. Kuroo walked over, pushing her cheeks together. His own glowed like fresh-picked strawberries.

“You look so adorable kitten~!” She playfully nipped at his fingers, causing him to pull them back and wag his finger at her. “Is that really any way to treat your bestest friend who planned this party for you?” They stood side-by-side as they surveyed the scene. Kuroo had gone all out. He’d ordered food and had even helped prepare curry prior to the party while she had made the gyoza. Her house was filled with familiar faces. Her heart glowed, recognising all the members from the Nekoma team from her third-year. Even senpais who had graduated two years before had stopped by. Here and there were familiar faces from other teams like Sugawara from Karasuno, Konoha from Fukurodani, and even some of her classmates from university. 

By the entrance, a large white poster was tacked to the wall serving as a backdrop. On it was “Congratulations (Name)!” with markers were provided for party-guests to leave heart-felt messages. The pop of another champagne bottle being opened caught their attention. White and gold streamers decorated the walls. Balloons were center-pieces at all the various tables. Her heart clenched, an all-too familiar jersey and face popping into her mind. 

“Congratulations Kou!” She squealed, jumping into her boyfriend’s arms. Bokuto beamed, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Congratulations to you too, babe!” He leaned down, rubbing his nose against hers. She giggled, pulling back and straightening out his tie. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally finished,” (Name) smiled, turning her body so that her back was against Bokuto’s chest while they surveyed the room. All around were various former third-years of Fukurodani and Nekoma. Nekoma’s graduation ceremony had been yesterday whereas Fukurodani’s ceremony had been that day. 

“Finally finished, but still stuck together,” Kuroo appeared, looming over their shoulders with a smirk on his face.

“It’ll be a new adventure,” she protested, glaring at the male. 

“Oi, Kuroo, leave the love-birds alone,” Yaku scolded, holding two red solo cups. Yaku handed her a cup. “Cheers guys!” They all cheered, their cups tapping together. 

“To another four years with my babies,” she smiled affectionately, letting her head rest against Bokuto’s chest. 

“I guess I’ll sacrifice another four years taking care of you children,” Kuroo teased. She rolled her eyes, feeling Bokuto’s warm breath on her ear.

“To four years of university, and then a lifetime beside the girl who stole my heart all those years ago,” he whispered. (Name) flushed pink, only for a scarlet glow to overtake her when Bokuto pressed a sloppy kiss onto her cheek. “Let’s party!” He cheered, pulling away and chugging the rest of his beer.

She glanced down to her phone. No new notifications. All that stared back at her was the picture of some cute dog she pulled off of the internet. Nimble fingers plucked the phone from her grasps. “Hey!” She protested, hands reaching up to try and grab it. 

“This is your party!” He gestured to the room. “All of these people gathered here to celebrate this accomplishment with you.” He sent her a soft look, cupping her cheeks before pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “You can have your phone back later, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she pouted, pushing his hands off of her face. 

Kuroo pushed her towards Kai and Yaku before he walked away, joining Kenma in the corner. “You and Kuroo seem closer than ever,” Yaku commented, shooting the girl a sly look. “Did something happen?” The former libero eyed the rooster-headed male as he laughed. 

“Oh, let me help you with that Kenma!” (Name) called, putting down the water bottles as she made her way over to the first year setter. Kenma’s face turned as he avoided direct eye-contact, focusing on the ball he was wiping down. She stood beside him, grabbing a towel to wipe another. Her perky voice carried through the emptying gym. Hazel eyes followed them, a smile proudly displayed on his face. Yaku and Kai exchanged looks, a smirk creeping on Yaku’s face. The second years entered the locker-room, following the rooster-headed male.

“God I’m so happy right now.”

“Oh really, what’s going on now Kuroo?” Kai inquired, sending the male a sly look.

“Does it have anything to do with (Name)?” Yaku teased.

“No!” Kuroo pouted. “Maybe.” He took off his shirt, grabbing a different one from his bag. “I’m just happy that she and Kenma get along, okay?” 

“Don’t they usually hangout anyways?” Kai raised his eyebrows.

“Is that all that makes you happy about her?” 

“Well I mean...isn’t that good? Isn’t it a good thing my best friends get along together?” Kuroo smirked. “I don’t see you having any best friends, Yaku, so I guess you can’t relate there.” Yaku’s face crossed into anger, as he rolled his shirt sleeve up. 

“Hey, don’t start fighting here,” Kai warned, tugging his own shirt down. 

“He started it!” Yaku scowled.

“Well, I’m ending it.” 

There was a knock at the door. “Kuroo? Are you still in there?” 

Kuroo was holding his hand against Yaku’s forehead, preventing his movements. “Yeah!”

“Hurry up, rooster-head. I gotta get home and get started on my paper!” 

“Coming!” Kuroo pushed Yaku back, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he ran out, tripping slightly. The boys exchanged looks.

“He’s so whipped.” 

Kai grunted in agreement. 

“Something like that.” They all turned to look at the pair of best friends.

“What happened to Bokuto?” Kai asked, his eyebrows raised. 

(Name) turned to look at them, her eyes dimming. “He uh...he left, I guess.” She cleared her throat. “He went to go pro and left me behind.” She shrugged. Another sip.

“That owl-haired idiot,” Yaku scowled. “You guys seemed so in love though.” 

“Didn’t you choose your major because of him?”

“We were and yeah, kinda.” Kuroo’s eyes met hers from across the room, and he sent her a cheeky smile. “But sometimes, you gotta let go of the people you love so that they can fly to their highest.” The group drank, Kai and Yaku exchanged looks at her sorrowful expression. “Besides! I love being a recreational therapist anyways.” 

“Are you planning on getting a doctorate? I know you mentioned wanting to do physical therapy sometime.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think it’s in the cards for me right now, but maybe sometime down the line.” A hand subconsciously settled onto her stomach. In turn, she asked them about their post-graduation plans and they soon fell into an easy conversation. 

After a few hours, the party began to wind down. People left, the food and alcohol had long been consumed. “Thank you for having us!” Yaku waved as he and Kai left. (Name) had been bent over the kitchen counter, picking up the empty cups and dirty plates that littered it. She waved at the duo before the door snapped shut behind them.

“Thank god that’s over with,” she said as she went back to cleaning. Another glance at the phone on the table. No new notifications. She bit back her sigh. At this point, she shouldn’t have even been surprised. 

Kuroo’s annoying laugh echoed in the house as he began cleaning the table. He eyed the decorations. “How about we leave the decorations up for a bit? There’s no harm in celebrating a little longer.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just too tired to clean up.”

He walked around the island, wiping down the cleared counter. “That and you need rest,” he chided. A light hand pressed against her lower back. “Go shower and get ready for bed. I’ll take care of this.” A chaste forehead kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut at the searing contact. 

She let out a long sigh, a hand on her stomach, a slight bump meeting it. “Only because my feet and back are killing me,” she acknowledged. She leaned up, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Thanks rooster-head.” Ignoring his cry of indignation, she headed to the bathroom. By the time she was finished, Kuroo was sprawled onto her bed. “I don’t remember giving you permission to sleepover,” she remarked, leaning against the doorway as she towel-dried her hair.

“And I don’t remember getting a thank you for today. I guess we’re both missing something now aren’t we?” His snarky reply had her balling up and throwing the damp towel on his face. Kuroo whipped it off, complaining loudly. She walked over, crawling towards Kuroo to hover over him.

“Thank you for the party.” His eyes gleamed as he tapped his cheek. 

“I think you missed something here.” 

“Kuroo!” She warned, and he threw his head back in a good-natured laugh. 

“Down, kitten,” he teased. “No need to get your claws out.” He gently eased her off of him onto the bed. “I’m gonna shower and I’ll be right back for cuddles.” She scowled, throwing a pillow at him.

“Don’t even think about it Kuroo!” He cackled as the pillow bounced off the door. She stretched slightly before she relaxed onto her side. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she slipped into the abyss. 

****

Nearly 300 miles away, a muscular male was just clambering into bed. His phone vibrated, lighting up. 

Konoha: Missed you at (Name)’s grad party! Hope you’re having fun with the pros 🙄😜

Gold eyes widened as he opened his calendar. He cursed. (Name) had finished university last week, and he hadn’t even sent her anything! Setting a silent reminder to send her a gift in the morning, he quickly drafted a text.

Bokuto: Congratulations baby! I’m so proud of you 💖 Can’t wait to see you soon!

He tossed his phone onto the nightstand and laid on his back. His muscles were extra sore that day, practice had run three hours over due to an interview that had predated it. He closed his eyes as his breathing deepened. The wing-spiker didn’t notice the error message that popped up on his phone as he fell asleep. Nor did he notice that his phone wasn’t plugged in.

****

(A week later. Name is 14 weeks along)

Stepping into the comfort of her home, (Name) let out a sigh of relief. It had been nerve-wracking, going to the clinic alone. She threw her purse onto her couch, plopping down next to it. Glancing down at her phone, she realized she had probably an hour before Kuroo would be coming over. At the thought of her friend, her heart skipped a beat. A hand settled on her stomach again as she slipped in her thoughts. Feeling the bump, seeing the doctor….it was all so real. She really was having a baby. She was having Bokuto’s baby. Her fingers played with her phone. Should she…? A thumb hovered over his contact. (Name) gnawed on her bottom lip. She tapped on their messages.

Last message sent:

[Name]: Hi baby! I hope you’re having fun at your training camps 💞 Don’t forget to eat and drink water. I love you. Read: 1 month ago.

(Name) shook her head. There was no point in texting him if he wasn’t going to respond to her. She sighed, startled out of her thoughts as her stomach gurgled. “Ooh, I’m sorry baby. Gimme a sec.” She stood up, making her way to her kitchen. Opening the door to her fridge, she was greeted to the sight of prepared bentos. “Oh, Kuroo,” she sighed affectionately, taking the top box out. A sticky note was tacked onto it. ‘Figured you might be too busy to make food. Enjoy! -Kuroo’. Popping the lid open, she was greeted to rice, a fried egg, sliced chicken breast, and spinach. Placing it in the microwave, she pulled out her phone to send a text. 

[Name]: Thank you for the bentos! It looks delicious

Rooster-head: Anything for you, dear 😼 See you soon!

The microwave beeped, calling her attention. She sat at her table, whispering a quick, “thank you for the meal,” before she started scrolling through social media. As she placed the empty container into the sink, there was a knock at the door. Briskly patting her hands dry on the towel, she opened the door.

“Howdy-do!” 

She rolled her eyes. “Hello to you too Kuroo. Do you have any other weird greetings for me?” He shrugged off his coat, throwing it over the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry, is ‘Honey, I’m home!’ more appropriate for you, princess?” 

“You’re insufferable.” He cackled, pulling her into a hug. 

“Eh, but you love me.”

“Do I really though?” She dead-panned, gently pushing him off. “Thanks for coming over, I really appreciate all the help you’ve been giving me.” He let her go, taking a step back.

Kuroo cracked his knuckles. “Don’t sweat it, I offered. Now, is everything already in the room?” 

“Yeah, I just need to get some last bits of furniture, and then it’ll be all set.” 

“Let’s get to painting then!” She stepped into the secondary bedroom, revealing a cloth-covered floor. “What color did you pick out?” 

(Name) popped open the lid for the bucket. “I liked this blue-grey colour. Figured I wanted something gender neutral.” 

“Makes sense.” He surveyed the walls. “Are you going to do a mural or something on the wall too?” Kuroo bent down, pouring a bit of paint into the tray. 

“Maybe? Might have to ask someone who’s more artistically inclined.” A hum in response.  

“How was the appointment, by the way?” 

She put her hair in a bun, pulling on a pair of stained overalls. “Good! The doctor just told me to have more DHA, protein, and to make sure to get sufficient rest.”

“I told you that you needed more docosahexaenoic acid.”

“Like I said, insufferable.” They stared at each other before bursting into laughter. 

Kuroo clapped his hands, rolling his shoulders back. “Well, the paint isn’t gonna get on the walls itself.” They rolled up their sleeves. “Let’s get to it.” The next hour was filled with laughter, their favorite songs blaring from the Bluetooth speakers that (Name) brought in. Just as they were about to jump into the chorus of (favorite song), the music died out and was replaced by a ringing noise. She raised a brow, laying the paint brush against the lid as she went to her phone. Her heart skipped a beat. Was it Bokuto? (Name) answered, taking the call off of Bluetooth.

“Hello, is this (L. Name, Name)?” 

Her brow furrowed. “Yes, this is she.”

“Excellent! My name is Kirishima Kayda, I’m with the Tokyo Office of Sports Medicine. I’m calling about the resume you submitted recently. Will you be free for an interview next week?” 

Her eyes widened, and she started smacking Kuroo’s arms as she bounced with excitement. “Oh my gosh, hi Ms. Kirishima, yes! I have open availability next week. When would you like me to come in?”

“How about Tuesday at 10 A.M.? I will send you an email with the interview confirmation and all other information you’ll need.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you so much for your time.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you next week!” 

“What was that about?” Kuroo asked as she pulled the phone away from her ear.

“I just got an interview with the Tokyo Office of Sports Medicine!” She squealed, glowing with excitement. 

“Ooh, I’m so excited for you! Congratulations, kitten.” Kuroo pulled her into a hug, causing her to whine as splatters of paint transferred onto her clothes. “Now, help me finish getting this room ready.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she pouted, tucking her phone back into her overalls. After tucking some strands of hair back into the bun, she grabbed one of the brushes, flicking paint at the tall male. 

“Oi!” 

She giggled, ducking under his arms as he attempted to send a glob of paint at her. They began running around the room. More paint ended up on them rather than the actual walls as they played like children.

****

“Not that I care, but why the hell have you been checking your phone so much?” Bokuto jumped, his phone flying out of his hand and skidding across the ground. Sakusa stood in front of him, his arms in his pockets. 

“No reason!” Bokuto replied nervously, running over to pick his phone up. He winced at the cracked screen. “Aw man,” he whined. Bokuto had already been having issues with his phone for the past week or so. 

“Serves you right,” Sakusa rolled his eyes. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be practicing.” Bokuto let out a soft sigh as he walked back to his bag. Sakusa turned, heading towards the court while Bokuto dropped his phone into his bag. No new notifications. Every opportunity he had, he was racing back to his phone. No new notifications.

AN: Thank you to everyone who has been reading my work so far! I really enjoy putting Lockscreens out for you. I have officially reached 150 followers!! Please read this post for more info about my request celebration that I am having! 

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @lastminaddition @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother@toobsessedsstuff  @setterfish   (If your name is bolded, I had trouble tagging you!) 

Please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

[court-of-abs]

Update on “Maybe Tomorrow” [Final Chapter; Chapter 17]

Hello, hello my ducklings. 

It’s been nearly two years since I’ve last been on Tumblr and well over that time since I’ve written anything for my Elorcan fanfic “Maybe Tomorrow.” I actually just finished up reading a Court of Silver Flames and I remembered this page existed. 

As you all might’ve guessed, I never did finish writing that last chapter, or the epilogue, even. And while I no longer intend to finish writing that last chapter now, I decided it would be fun to post what I had written so far as well as a bulleted list for the ideas I had for the epilogue. Please keep in mind two things: this was written over two years ago and I’m not letting myself attempt to edit it (although I did read through it quickly) and there is a potential trigger warning: this chapter covers themes of mental health, therapy, and topics related to it. I’ll also be adding this warning to the previous chapter, as I feel in hindsight I most definitely should’ve included it.

This community and these books were my everything in 2017-2018. I was going through a pretty tough time then, and I am so so happy to say I’m doing much better now despite everything going on in the world. I still keep up with each series to this day (I even cried the BIG tears when I finished Kingdom of Ash) and it will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart. 

Enjoy!! Let me know what you guys think <3 I miss and love you all, and I hope you’re doing well.

~

Naitivity. To herself, to her problems, to the pain flowing through her veins every step she took. That was why Saturday night had affected her so much.

In the almost nine years since their death, Elide had never acknowledged what had happened. She’d never grieved, barely faltered- she got away with it by not thinking about it, not talking about it. By not accepting the cards the fate had handed her, by turning a blind eye, it became so much easier to pretend it didn’t happen. It became so much easier to pretend she hadn’t changed.

Elide knew now that she wasn’t being strong for it. She was just being naive.

Elide wrapped her arms around herself and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel of her car. She breathed, deeply, taking in the muffled sounds of students walking towards the front of the school- their voices, their laughter.

She smiled, then, thinking about what today was.

Then she frowned, thinking about what today was. The elections and then…

Another breath. In and out, just like the therapist had told her. Elide reached for her school books and swung open the door of her car, stepping out into the heat. She just needed to focus on today, just today.

And then, with the support of her friends, those that cared about her, she’d focus on the next. And the next, and the next…

Elide made it all of three steps away from her car when she ran into Aelin, Lysandra, and Manon standing by the rear of her car, their arms crossed and faces tight.

Elide swallowed and reached for the words she’d been saying over and over in her head for the last 24 hours. They were on the tip of her tongue-

“Manon!” Lysandra’s shout was cut off by Manon barrelling into Elide, pulling her into one of the most suffocating bear hugs she’d ever received. It was exactly what she needed.

“You scared the ever-living daylights out of us” she said into Elide’s hair.

Elide leaned her head on Manon’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Manon shook her head, and Elide watched as Lysandra and Aelin took a few steps forward, readying to pull Manon away should Elide need them to.

“There’s no need to be sorry, but Jesus, Elide, you just… disappeared after Saturday night. No one could get in touch with you all of Sunday, not even Lorcan.” Elide froze at his name. She mumbled another “sorry” into Manon’s shoulder and gripped her harder so that she wouldn’t notice.

“All right, all right” Lysandra said as she gently pried Manon’s arms off of Elide. “Don’t smother her.”

Elide smiled at her. “It’s alright-” and then Lysandra was gripping her in another extremely tight bear hug.

“Hey!” Manon shouted, scowling at Lysandra.

“You had plenty of time with her, it’s my turn now.”

“I got less than a minute-”

“Ladies” Aelin said, stepping between them. “This is about Elide right now, not you.” Aelin stepped towards Lysandra and Lysandra took a step away. 

“Don’t even try, Aelin. You’ll get your turn in a minute.” Elide giggled as Aelin sighed and took a step back.

Lysandra smoothed down the hair on top of her head and said, “Do you want to tell us what happened- after Saturday, I mean. It’s okay if you’re not ready.”

Elide smiled up at her, at all of them, and took a small step forward- Lysandra reluctantly loosened her grip.

“It’s true,” Elide swallowed, “what Maeve said about my parents. That’s all true.” She wrapped her arms around herself, tighter, remembering what Dr. Ren had told her.

“I’ve spent the last nine or so years of my life… in denial. My parents, when they died, they were all I had. I was horrible at making friends, and when Vernon became my guardian, well, you might imagine why he didn’t exactly give me someone to talk to. The SDD tried to get me to talk, to acknowledge what had happened. They worked tirelessly to try and convince my uncle that I needed therapy but my uncle doesn’t really believe in mental illness, of any sort, and I… it was just too much for me,” Elide tried to meet all of their eyes as she talked but the bareness of the moment forced her eyes down to the pavement, “I didn’t talk for almost an entire year after they died. I had no outlet for the pain,” her voice cracked on the word, “the utter pain I was going through. Eventually I learned it was easier to shove it all down. Everyone said that since I was young I would quickly get past it and I took that as meaning that I had to quickly get past it. And so I did everything you’re not supposed to do when trying to grieve about the death of your loved ones.” 

Elide gestured a hand to all of them, “I pushed people away... and I let the mention of the most amazing parents in the world become a trigger for my concealed anxiety and grief. And after Saturday, I couldn’t push it all back down after Saturday. And so nine years of pent up… everything came tumbling out.”

None of them spoke for a moment.

Then: “You talked to one hell of a therapist yesterday, didn’t you,” Manon said. 

Elide let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, he set me straight.” Elide said, tracing the lines on one of her textbooks.

“So you’re okay?” Lysandra asked, wrapping her arms tentatively around Elide.

“No” Elide said, “I’m actually far from it. But …” Elide cleared her throat and hastily brushed away a fallen tear. “That’s okay. I know that.” 

“Good” Aelin said. She reached for Elide, then, waving off a pissed Lysandra. “We’re going to be right here while you get through all of it, Elide. Absolutely all of it.”

“Thank you” Elide said, gladly accepting her third bear hug of the day. “And I’m sorry about how I reacted on Saturday, it must have been so scary for all of you. I’m really, truly sorry-”

“Don’t apologize” Aelin said, smoothing down her hair. “You don’t need to. What Maeve did was the definition of malicious, and you didn’t hear it but everyone booed her off stage after Lorcan rushed you out of the room.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t disqualify her from the race after that,” Lysandra said, and then she grimaced. “Gods I can still remember the look on her face-”

“Lysandra” Manon warned, “we all know she’s a bitch, but we don’t need to debate how much of one she is right at this second.”

Lysandra looked down at her feet and mumbled, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really” Elide said. “I don’t mind talking about how much of a bitch she is at all.”

“Oh thank the gods” Lysandra sighed, rushing over to Elide and grasping her hand. “Let’s all go sit down somewhere and discuss this. It’s going to be a lengthy conversation- there is so much bitchy-ness about her that you don’t even know about it.”

“Are we really doing this?” Manon said, raising a single brow. “Doesn’t that make us a bit petty?” A snort from Lysandra.

They all turned to Aelin, but Aelin just shrugged. “What Elide says, goes.”

Manon’s jaw twitched and then she threw up her hands. “What the hell.”

Elide giggled as the four of them linked arms and walked towards the school together. Manon had been right- she had talked to one hell of a shrink yesterday. But she hadn’t just helped her sift through the memories, figure out how to deal with the pain.

Lysandra cackled at something Manon said, and Aelin smiled back at them, unrestrained.

No, she’d also helped her realize how amazing her friends were. And that was best part of all.

~  

If he couldn’t find her before the end of the day- he didn’t know what he was going to do. He just had to talk to her. He just had to know if she was alright.

His feet pounded into the concrete of the school parking lot... (I’m sorry I stopped typing here)

Here’s how I originally outlined the chapter (you can see some changes for when I actually sat down and wrote it):

Chp 17 Summary

Monday morning- day of election results. Elide is a mess. She hasn’t talked to anyone since Saturday night: this includes Lorcan. At school she’s confronted by friends and they’re all worried about her. They make up- Elide opens up to them about it. Lorcan clears things up with Rowan in the parking lot, they walk towards the school together. Then Lorcan comes over and asks to speak with Elide alone- they talk, and Lorcan gives her a new backpack (green like the carpet in the library). Asks if she could take care of Hellas for him- she says yes. They walk into the school hand in hand, knowing what they are and what they could be would have to wait for now.

Chapter Specifics

Outside of School

Elide sitting in her car again, contemplating the weekend. Reflective of first chapter- when she’s sitting there, not sure how things are going to go. 

Walks towards the school in a daze. Aelin & Co waiting for her a few feet from the school. Everyone is tentative but then Manon comes running over and gives Elide a hug. It’s just what she needs.

Elide says she’s sorry and opens up to them about her thought. They all just tell her it’s not her fault for any of it and they’re sorry that happened to her.

Lorcan & Rowan Meeting

Lorcan walking towards Elide when Rowan steps in front of him. The two tersely talk 

Flashback scene of sorts about what Rowan did for him the night before (Cain trying to goad Lorcan into a fight of sorts and Rowan stepping in)

at the end of it the two shake hands and are on good terms again.

Lorcan walks over to Elide and asks to speak with her alone. Bell rings for class to start but Lorcan leads them down a trail to talk.

He’s awkward until Elide leans up and kisses him. She tells him thank you

He gives her the backpack. Elide opens it up to find a copy of A Court of Wings and Ruin, and the picture of her parents protruding from it. 

Lorcan says he wishes he could have made her happy like that. Elide says he did. In the short time they had, he did.

Lorcan asks her to take care of Hellas. She says of course.

Elide leans up and kisses him again and says that she’ll always care about him. And maybe in the future they’ll be something (make sure you don’t rush this!!)

Lorcan starts stuttering and Elide shakes her head. She explains that as much as she cares about him, she knows how much the long distance thing will wear down on them- and that he needs to be his own person when he comes back to her.

Outdoors speakers announce that Aelin and her team had won the election as they approach the school building.

Elide walks into the school with Lorcan, prepared for the day ahead. And the next. And then the next, and the next…

Epilogue

I actually don’t have any notes for this (I THOUGHT I DID I’M SORRY) but I think I had it so that they bump into each other at Terrasen University or something like that and they start as friends but eventually begin dating and then get married in the library and the last scene is them at their spot in the library in their wedding apparel just holding each other (because I’m sappy like that)

Thank you all, again. Writing this was a pleasure and I could not have asked for a better community and support group

- Abs

[xxwhisper255xx]

Rewrite the Stars: Huma

I am so nervous to post this

-----

Things were quiet on the Lost Revenge. The crew had left for the night and only the captain and first mate remained. Said captain had been silent since returning to the ship after an altercation in the streets. She remembered their words clear as day, even clearer than the fear in their eyes after she pointed her sword at their throat.

“Oi, look it’s Shrimpy!” Bellowed the drunk teenage boy. Uma didn’t recognise him at all, and just looked at him in disgust. “Actually it’s Uma. I’d ask who you are but I don’t care. It’s pretty sad that your trying to challenge me on my turf, you know.” “Your turf? The only reason you have power is because Maleficent’s brat is gone!” The drunk boy slurred. Uma suddenly became aware of Harry’s presence as he leered over her shoulder. “I’d watch myself if I were you mate, you’re talkin’ to the queen of the isle.” He growled. The boy stumbled back slightly before retaliating. “Some queen, eh? Need your boyfriend to protect ya honour?” His cackling was abruptly cut short when the tip of a sword almost pierced his throat. “I suggest you leave before I take you back to my ship and see what the sharks think of your big mouth.” Uma glared down the tip of her sword into the boy’s fearful eyes. He nodded quickly, trying to avoid the blade. He turned and stumbled away as fast as he could in his drunken state.

Uma had her back to Harry, in the process of tying a knot on the ship’s mast. Harry sat on a barrel nearby and watched, knowing that she needed something like that to focus on when she was anxious.

“You can’t ignore me for long, captain,” he said.

She didn’t respond, but he could see her shoulders tense as she yanked on the knot.

“Why’s it bother you so much?” He asked. To be honest, it hurt a little bit to see her so angry about the thought of them being together. But Harry knew better than to take it personally. It was an entirely different story when they were alone, sharing their nights in the captain’s quarters, or hanging out in the fish and chip shop after hours. He just wished they didn’t have to hide anything. He wanted to openly tell the world how much she meant to him, how she was much more than just his captain.

“Forget it Harry,” She huffed, keeping her back to him.

Harry sighed and tilted his head up, searching the sky for the star to Neverland. He tried to remember the stories his mother had told him, about how their stories were written in the stars.

“See that one, Harry? That’s it, the second star to the right.” “What are all the other ones for?” “Those ones hold our fate. Did you know that your destiny is written in the stars?” Harry glared at the stars in confusion. “But what if I don’t like what they say?” The young boy questioned. His mother turned to him with a smile so bright that it rivalled the stars themselves. “Then you need to rewrite them.”

He turned back to Uma and she glared at the knot, and started singing to her.

“You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

I know you want me

So don't keep saying our hands are tied”

Harry swung around the mast she was working on, trying to catch her eye. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying desperately to ignore him as she glared at the rope as if it had personally offended her.

“You claim it's not in the cards

Fate is pulling you miles away

And out of reach from me

But you're here in my heart

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny?”

Harry grabbed the rope from her hands and used it to swing around the mast, landing on his feet in front of her. She was forced to look into his eyes while he smiled at her. Not a smirk, not a crazed smile used to scare people, not a flirty smile that was used to charm people, but a soft, genuine smile reserved only for her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and spun the two of them around, not moving his eyes from hers as he continued.

“What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You'd be the one I was meant to find

It's up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight”

Uma pulled away and snatched the rope back, using it to hoist herself up the mast. She landed in the crow’s nest, looking down as her first mate watched her every move. She pulled anxiously on her braids and her voice rang out into the night like a siren.

“You think it's easy?

You think I don't want to run to you?

But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through

I know you're wondering why

Because we're able to be

Just you and me

Within these walls

But when we go outside

You're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all”

He didn’t seem to realise how much it hurt her too. She kept her affection limited to when they were in private, having to keep the strong captain act that she had perfected when they were in public. Her heart ached just as much as his.

“No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight”

The captain grabbed the rope and jumped, swinging around the ship in the air. She landed on the deck, stumbling into Harry’s arms. They locked eyes again, and she couldn’t help but match his smile this time. He picked her up bridal style like some Auradon princess and spun around the deck as her hair flew in the wind.

“All I want is to fly with you

All I want is to fall with you

So just give me all of you

It feels impossible (it's not impossible)

Is it impossible?

Say that it's possible”

Harry put her back on her feet as they laughed. Uma let him go and ran off with a playful smirk before she jumped back onto the rope, swinging through the air. Harry climbed to the crows nest, determined not to lose sight of her. He watched her fly through the air gracefully, knowing that this image was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Harry jumped as she swung past, catching the rope and wrapping his arm around her as they both held on, their voices blending together.

“How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

It's up to you

And it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours”

They reached the deck, letting go of the rope. Harry put her down, keeping his arms around her waist. They both stared at each other as they caught their breath. Uma’s smile wore away as she lost the high. She stepped back hesitantly, knowing in her heart that they couldn’t do this. She sang softly, pain in her voice.

“You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you

We're bound to break and my hands are tied”

Maybe if they ever got off the isle. Maybe if they weren’t being watched for any kind of weakness. Maybe if they were away from their parents.

Maybe then, they could rewrite the stars together.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Fated Year

Notes: Here’s a New Year fic! I can’t believe I started writing about this character since July? August? I noticed that I’ve gotten somewhat better at my skills, and I’ve made such Wonderful, Lovely Friends and Followers through these tough times, and I can’t ever be so grateful enough.

Without further ado, here’s a fic for the New Year

Rating: E

Setting: ABO with my own twists, and Biker! Tai (bc a fellow simp suggested it and I’m hooked)

………

 One of the major things that did not change throughout centuries, was the slim promise of a Fated Mate. Contrary to belief, dynamics didn’t really play a roll on fate’s cupid, no, fate itself did. it was just a roll of dice, a stroke of luck, the clouds sifting underneath the moon’s soft glare, shedding light upon the traveler’s path.

 Lupine blood is adaptable, but those stuck in their old, “traditional” ways, had seemed to forget that. It is not always an alpha paired with an omega, or an alpha being head of the home, or betas lacking any scents or personality, or, the one stereotype that you’ve hated the most, omegas needing a knot to sate their so-called “eccentric” heats.

  At worst, heats made the skin flare, areas aching, and one use a lot of energy in satisfying those areas. It wasn’t the incoherent, scrambling to find just about anybody. No, you were very coherent, and wary of your surroundings, anxiety crawling up at you if you didn’t feel safe, refusing any advances.

Sometimes, home didn’t feel right if the neighborhood was seedy, and walls thin enough for impotent scents to leak out through the cracks.

However, you weren’t at home, right now. You were in the emergency room at your local hospital.

It started out innocently enough as a day. You, wanting a break from tending the small greenhouse in your secluded backyard, decided to take a stroll around the bustling city, handing out small business cards that had your shop’s logo printed neatly with your signature and info. Smiling, greeting, and nodding whilst handing out the pink, flowery cards, you were unaware of what was yet to come.  

Oranges, faint vanilla, and the soft bite of earthy sandalwood, had hit your senses out of nowhere. In the middle of a bustling town, it was hard to detect who and where the mouthwatering smell was from emitting from, yet it was of no use, for it was about a day old. To your utter shock, your lower area began to clench and ache, leaking out slick. You stilled, eyes widened with fear as you heard worried mumbling around you, and then, when your knees buckled, a shout for the ambulance.

This couldn’t be real, or even happening, you kept thinking, the crowds of people stopping to only stare. Did your heat overpower the blockers? You asked yourself, luckily for you, a police officer had yelled out for them to keep moving and to mind their business, she and others formed a circle around you, as a few helpful betas released their calming pheromones, near you. You weakly murmured out your gratitude as your shoulder muscles relaxed, only slightly, as your senses heightened, the ache worsened, and you had found yourself clutching your abdomen, kneeling on the ground, you were sure that you were about to die of shame. You’ve always took your scent blockers, suppressants, and had never went into heat at a public place, knowing that each cycle was calculated, and they had only happened twice a year. This year was beginning to end, soon, and you’ve already went through your heats alone and cooped up in your closet.

The only explanation that had crossed into your mind, made you still in more shock, as you heard the ambulance siren began to cry out into the distance, driving near you.

………………

He was frantic, like a dog on the trail of the scent that had hit him twice as hard than any greaser could, three weeks ago. At first, he laughed it off with his buddies as he sipped on some sake, just recently gotten out of his rut. Granted, it wasn’t a large one like that of an alpha’s, but it was as worse than his usual ruts, and it kind of freaked him out, a little.

Being that of a dominant beta, he figured that he was just as fine the way he is, although a known biker who had beaten up thugs, he had manners, and a stable job and income. He not only had the strength and build to stand up to most alphas, but the calming scent to lessen the shoulders of a friend or family member. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say that he was an alpha. He was tall, round yet muscular, and at first glance, gave off the “bad boy” attitude.

Oh no, his personality couldn’t be more polar opposite, however. He had a soft heart, and had to reject a lot of admirers, because through and through, he was bit of a secret romantic. Well, he tried to keep it secret, but “Sorry, waitin’ for my mate”, and not ever really having anybody, really spoke volumes. He knew that it was nearly impossible for a soulmate to fall into his lap, but he hoped, he really did.

Fated mates were rare, and rarely happened between a beta and any other dynamic. Especially with omegas. He didn’t believe it, at first, but then again, beta ruts happened at least once a year, rarely more, and scents didn’t trigger them, at all, until now. His friends had gleefully explained this right after he crawled out of the damned house in a post-rut haze, asking anybody and everybody on what the hell had just happened. His shock didn’t waver, even after the proud cackling and congratulations from his friends from him learning the news, was only a week prior ago.  

Although his memory was a little vague, he remembered the sweetness of the omega’s scent. Strawberries, cream, and a hint of honey. It was a classic combination of smells, and he couldn’t believe that it sent a jolt of electricity through his being, him itching to just take a bite. When he had understood that he was basically married by fate, he had taken some time for himself to think through his disbelief, excitement, fear, worry, and joy.  

Although he loved his bike, and hanging out with his fellow motorcycle buddies and work colleagues, he knew that he had wanted to settle down, as well, and just hope that the person liked him and his lifestyle. Especially, hopefully, if the person was as sweet as their scent is, and of course the rarity of fate throwing him in what he had been craving for. Of course, he wholeheartedly accept no for an answer, if his intended rejected him, and little small insecurities had been preparing for that, but, he was wanting to try, and he didn’t mind taking that leap.  

So, he revved up the engine of his motorcycle, and scoured the area in where that scent was. Two days, he had been trailing the scent, hoping to find it. Did the other person went into heat right after he did? There were no news or calls on the radio at the local police station, about it. He had began doubting himself, wondering if he was just a weak beta, having a scent bother him, and it wasn’t fate at all.

Through his internal struggle while slowly rolling through the streets, his body automatically froze, as he all but stomped on the brake pedal. That. It. The scent. It didn’t affect him, too badly, but he knew that his body temperature had risen up, and he was on the prowl. Heat. Their heat had just recently hit. It must have been because his own pheromones had still lingered from the day before, and now his little omega unfortunately had to deal with another heat this year.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew that two heats in a year were the natural limit, and thus this year ending, meant that this might be the poor dear’s third one. His instincts sang out to nurture and comfort, but he didn’t know who and where, and asking somebody might label him as a creep, if he didn’t feel like one, already. He pinched his nose, huffing slightly as he looked absentmindedly onto the ground. A flash of pink flying by as the wind had picked up, caught his attention. Cards, and a small group of them had fluttered within the wind, scattering throughout the street. He gingerly stepped onto one, refusing it to flutter away as he picked it up, freezing for a millisecond as he had noticed that the scent lingered there the strongest. Curiously, he rushed to catch another card, to see if it had a different scent.

Joy overcame him as he had noticed that these were the person’s cards. His person’s card, and with information on them.

……………..

You were always coherent during your heats, whilst hurting, lustful, and writhing, but you knew where you were, the times to eat and to drink water, small breaks, and so on. However, a facility wasn’t your home. It wasn’t familiar, too bright, and had sent you almost panicking, if it weren’t for the powerful, soothing scents of the friendly beta doctors. Your skin was heated, but the sweat had instantly felt like ice as the cool room had touched it.

 You were in the emergency room, a blanket was placed upon you by a sympathetic nurse. Softly telling your thanks, you awaited for the doctor, wanting to be discharged and just to wrap yourself into the familiarity of your nest, wishing that the particular scent that comforted you, yet drove your hormones wild, was there.  

 It was a beta’s scent, you knew. Not too flowery or sweet of an omegas, nor rustic, loud, and too dominant of an alphas. It was in the middle, perfect and soothing, and you felt yourself relax a little by the memory of it. Multiple times, your phone had rang from numbers in which you did not know. You chewed your lip. You managed to grab your handbag, but not the cards, in which had scattered everywhere after your fall. Feeling stressed, you didn’t answer any of them, except the more frantic callers, such as your friends and family.

Another unknown number rang. Admittedly, you were tired, and wanted to chuck the thing against the wall, but you were a little curious, this time. Most of the ringers had stopped, minutes ago. Taking your phone, you pressed the green button as you held it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked first.

“Hey there, Strawberry. Do ya believe in Fated Mates?” Even through the static of the phone, the person, the man had a rough, yet warm, honeyed voice.  

“Who is this?” You asked, surprised. Was this a joke from the other person? Where they trying to lure you or set you up? Of course your scent had probably reached about everyone, so it didn’t surprise you that he knew of it.

“Orange, vanilla, and maybe sandalwood, ring a bell?” Answered your inward thoughts, and you couldn’t help but stiffen with surprise.  

“How did you know? Who is this?” You pressed for answers, and the stranger delivered.

“Name’s Taishiro Toyomitsu.‘M a beta, so you could imagine my surprise when a scent, of all things, hit me like a freight train, causing me to go into my second rut. Strawberries, cream, and honey, right?” He soothed, letting the information sink into you. It was very plausible and possible. You didn’t tell anybody of the incident, or the details. You believed him, strangely enough.

“Alright.” You decided to cut to the chase in your answer, as your heart had pounded lively within your chest. It was quiet for a second.

“Alright?” Hope was obvious in his tone of voice, and you hummed. It wouldn’t hurt, you were sure in which scent had made you go almost feral, and if the man didn’t smell like it, he could leave. If he did, then probably with you, your heat addled inward thoughts chimed in. It didn’t take you long to tell him which hospital that you were in.

“Ah, the hospital, Babe? Hold on, I’ll rev up my engine, an’ we’ll get to talkin’, alright?” He cooed rather gently, and you found yourself nodding, but told him your agreement, nonetheless.  

 Just as you hung up, the elderly doctor strolled in, smiling politely, yet apologetically. Lavender and chamomile flooded softly throughout the room, soothing your cramped muscles and calmed down your heavy breathing.  

“Hello, many people call me Recovery Lady, but you may call me Chiyo-san! So I’ve heard that this is your third heat, this year? Fated mates are such a lovely thing to see, it being more rare than winning the lottery. Do you mind answering some questions?” She rambled on in the sweet grandmotherly voice, and you couldn’t help but agree, finding yourself climbing down from the panic and stress ever so slowly as you wrapped the blanket tighter around you.

It didn’t take long, you basically asking for her to let in a man with the specified scent, and she agreed.

“Since you’re not in the deeper stages of your heat, being dizzy and tired and weak, you may be discharged, today. Good luck with bonding with your soulmate~!” She chirped as she handed you some papers to sign, and so you did. Of course, being in a more vulnerable state, you had to wait until the mysterious stranger of yours took you home.

 You’ve given yourself time to think upon basically being married, and it didn’t take you too long to not minding it. It was a leap, a rush, a blindfold into the unknown, and yet, you’ve been waiting for this moment. Like most omegas, you wanted to break the stereotype and have a job, a home, and to marry later in life. It was just your preference, and what better way, than to let the stars align somebody for you? Although Chiyo’s scent lingered, you calmed your own self down, by thinking of another, particular scent.

As if a miracle, a soft, yet subtle knock landed on the other side of the door, tore you away from your thoughts. Although a bit nervous, your instincts were oddly more calm, softly singing at you that this was meant to be, and you found yourself more eager, than anything.  

You told him to come in.

The door couldn’t have opened more slowly enough, even if it was basically pushed open with a force of hurried eagerness. You stared at the person equally taking you in, as time seemed to freeze to a screeching halt as sweet oranges and earthy sandalwood spilled into the room along with him.  

 Despite the scent that you’ve craved so dearly was a bit calm, his appearance was a little wild. His too tight of a white tee stained with a bit of motor-oil, contrasted against coal-colored leather jacket and thick, sturdy gloves and ankle-high boots, indicating that he was probably a mechanic, or at least somebody who knew how to read and ride the streets, well. He was large, tall, round, and yet carried a scent that contrasted his appearance. Sharp amber irises stared at you unabashedly as you drank more of him in.

Metallic goggles held up soft yet wild, wind-ridden yellow hair as he thumbed nervously at the chain that was linked to the hem of the pocket of sharp blue jeans.

“Ah, hello, Taishiro.” You greeted a bit too stiffly for your liking, but nervousness was leaking into your scent, and the both of you knew that he could smell it.

“Just Tai’s fine, Sweetheart.” He cooed, and you were glad that the static of the phone didn’t mask his personal voice, this time. You told him your name, and he tried it out, you liking the way it sounded as it rolled off of his tongue.

“So.” He shrugged, giving the silent offer of you taking the reigns in what you had wanted. He stood there, waiting eagerly, yet patiently ready to pounce when you’ve giving the word, and you had to admit, the thought was a pleasant one.

“We ready to go? My place isn’t much, just a flower shop.” You admitted sheepishly, and a warm smile graced his lips.

“Ya wanna talk about it on our way?”

You eagerly agreed, pleasantly surprised by the beta’s sweet demeanor.

……………

He listened very carefully as you all but rambled over the engine’s loud purr. You rather have him drive, and as he agreed, he suggested that you sit in front of him, so that your now over-heated body could cool down, as he gripped the handlebars. Of course, it was a silent excuse for his chest to lean over your back, and him to lean in to hear you. Whether his breathing softly against your ear was intentional or not, it didn’t help the spike of illicit electricity jolt through you while he murmured his input and replies.

Your flower shop came with your home connected to it. Once your grandmother’s, you inherited it as a gift after your graduation in business class. It wasn’t easy. Your parents wanted you to fit in the more “traditional” role as an omega, but your grandmother, an elderly alpha, had fire in her blood and command, had you stay with her, and focus on your studies. Of course nobody dared to temper with the head of the family, and so you were free to focus on yourself. Of course, you had been labeled as the new “heir” of the pack, and not liking that at all, your family cut contact. You shrugged at his sympathetic apology.

“They’re not my problem, anymore.” I have new family, was on the tip of your tongue, but you decided to leave it, for now.  

The ride to your home, wasn’t that long, but the two of you drove slowly, taking the less populated route as the sunset inked the sky in an array of colors. Being winter, the glistening snow on the ground had shimmered with the sky’s dying light, sparkling off twinkles of light, creating a romantic atmosphere all around you.

 Still in slight disbelief, you had still enjoyed pondering over the complexity of the situation. The two of you, in all of the beings in the world, were only a select few who were truly genetically compatible. It was now when it had fully dawned on you, when you felt the cool wind breeze lightly against your clothes and ruffle your hair. The cool air did help sate your heated body, but it was stubborn. Your body wanted to burn up, to spend itself in warmth to relieve the aching between your legs. Him of course, feeling you shiver slightly, could only bring his body closer to you, a silent promise that you’ll be warm, soon.

You gulped, knowing that he could probably smell how enticing your flavors had become, and you couldn’t help but hope that he would want a taste.

Soon, it was very soon. Of course he had explained that he found your location by card, and you believed him, even after he showed you the pink little slip after he parked in your driveway. You were still chilled, and had to reluctantly tear yourself away from his scent that was literally cloaking you.

“What do ya wanna do, Princess?” He asked bluntly, yet there was a shy bite of uncertainty laced in his tone of voice, and sympathy pulled at you.    

“Be in my nest.” You couldn’t help but wish aloud, and he hummed.

“Don’t blame ya, there, Hon. Ya got goosebumps all over ya. I don’t have work, ‘cause of the holidays, but I’ll leave my number here, so ya can call me, in case.” He stated, and you felt surprise.

“You’re...leaving?” You asked in wonder, and he, ready to turn the engine, stilled.

“Um…it’s a private time for ya, right? Besides…I didn’t know, um, what ya wanted….” He was rather sheepish, now, scratching the back at his head as red burned at his ears. Your mind screeched to a halt, as your heart skipped a couple of beats at the sight of a rough n’ rumble biker man, was being coy. You kind of liked it.  

“I would like to learn more about you. We could talk, and I can make extra space in my nest, if you want to stay the night?” You found yourself murmuring rather shyly, yet looking at his surprised look through your lashes.

A loud grin split his features before you could blink, and he hugged you, squeezing your body against his softer, yet stronger one as his scent crashed into you like a wave. Pupils large, you took in a deep, silent breath, basically tasting the oranges on your tongue as a sizzle of heat shot through you and he stiffened.

“I would love to sit with you and talk. I know the ball’s rollin’ a bit too fast, but I’m fine with what you’re fine with.” He hummed soothingly, and that itself helped with the anxious turn in your stomach.

………….

Comfort was an understatement. You were relaxed against him, feeling his chest and body rumble as he spoke, talking with you as you asked your own questions. He was a mechanic, and a biker. Once in a street gang, he disliked the violence, and turned against those who had hurt the weak. His mother loved him, and his step-father emotionally supported him. Either weren’t too thrilled that he liked revving up the streets with his friends and motorcycle, but he never once had broken the law, and was even friends with a few of the officers. He just liked what he liked, and you found yourself respecting that.

Of course, he lived in a decent apartment that wasn’t too shabby, but he had felt that he could use a companion. He chuckled nervously, as you leaned your head back against his chest to stare up at him.

“Ya…ya could say that I was always kinda of a romantic.”  He smiled softly, tucking in a stray hair behind your reddened ear. Of course, him being a beta, wasn’t a sex-craved fiend around omega heats such as alphas were. Yes, you were his mate, but beta’s usually weren’t affected too much by those in heats or ruts, and he, although flushed, was mostly more calm, letting his pheromones wash over you in a sense of security that you’ve been waiting for your whole life.

“If I wasn’t busy focusing on graduating, I was working and distancing myself away from those who were toxic.” You admitted, and although it was a vulnerable statement, you felt it breeze out of you in relief. He looked at your red face in surprise, but didn’t embarrass you further as he ran his fingers softly through your hair, enjoying the sheer intimacy between the two of you in your quiet bedroom nest. You were getting sleepy, he could tell, but since the both of you hadn’t eaten, yet, he kissed your cheek.

“Take a nap, Sweetheart. I’ll be back with somethin’ to eat.” He promised, and you nodded off, feeling him pull away reluctantly, yet wrapping the blankets around you.

……………. Nsfw

It was New Year’s Eve. Two days had passed, since then, and you couldn’t help but like him considerably. It was inevitable, you were hooked. Both being mature adults, the two of you had the potential to carve your ways into having a healthy and communicative relationship. Still early in your heat, he had given you space, giving you pillows and blankets from his home, drenched in his scent. As you rode out your heat, he excitedly told his friends and family that his new mate owned a flower shop, keeping the more secretive details to himself.

 You would have felt guilty, but you couldn’t help but soothe the ache between your legs as you slowly rode one of the pillows that he’d brought you, letting the soft cotton fabric rub against your clit, soaking in your juices, as you buried your face into the blankets that he’d brought you, his scent flooding your heat-raddled senses as your eyes watered with the need of relief. You preferred smaller spaces, shrouding yourself in the boxed in feeling of your closet as the only light was a flickering vanilla candle, chiming in helpfully with Taishiro’s own lingering scent.

It wasn’t enough. Your heart hammered frantically, skipping beats as you bit into the blanket, feeling tears of frustration pool at the corners of your eyes. Usually, a pillow, or even fingers, would do the trick to sate one round of your heats. This was different. Your body knew the potential of what you could have, and now it sung for him, and even desperately rutting up against a pillow or your digits, were futile, now, and only created a mess. You groaned, agitated and unsatisfied as aches of emptiness speared through you.

You didn’t want to use him, or call him to just satisfy your needs, but you were desperate and in pain, and your body this time, was dependent on his scent. Your mind was bordering on delirious after the first three failed orgasms in the next two hours. He was at work, you knew, but his shift would end, soon, and you could just make a call to let him know ahead of time…

You panted lightly into the pillows, a sheen of sweat covered you. Deciding that you had felt icky, you wanted to test if a cold shower would be merciful to you, this time.

………..

He was over the moon, humming happily to himself as he gripped the wrench, tightly twisting the bolt into a right turn, tightening it flush to the metal of the bike. Of course his parents were ecstatic, his friends and co-workers happy for him, and although some tried to hide their jealousy, he brushed it off.

He admitted, he was a little worried. Fated heats and ruts packed a bit more punch that normal, seeing that a lover’s pheromones could naturally make the other go crazy. He would known, his rut lasted more than it should, and he was furiously biting into his pillow, hands clutching at the sheets as he frantically rutted into them, doing nothing but mussing up pre-cum and semen into a giant mess. He never felt so punched, wrought out, and unsatisfied, and he couldn’t imagine what his poor darling was dealing with.

He was surprised when she called, but at the same time, was elated and worried.

“Baby, are you alright?” He didn’t miss a beat when he answered.

“I…I’m not.” Came almost too stiffly, yet the voice broke a little at the end, and he couldn’t help but bite his tongue in a whine. It wasn’t a tough call to know that she was distraught, and he understood. If what packed a punch to him, he couldn’t imagine what it could do to his omega.

His omega. He confirmed mentally, still getting use to the fact that he had a partner, now.

“Honey, are you sure that you want this? You’re in a vulnerable state, right now, and I will not take advantage of ya.” He’d rather set himself on fire, than to live with the guilt of using and hurting his precious partner, but he knew that although rare, an unattended heat or rut could have grave consequences on one’s body. Especially if it was caused by pheromone withdrawal.

“I’m coherent. I know that you should get off work, soon. Unless you don’t want-?” The sentence hung, and he understood her reluctance, then.

“I’ll be there, soon, Dearest. Rest assure, I do want, an’ we can save some pillow talk for later, alright? Ya don’t sound too well, and I’m going to fix that, alright?” He hushed gently, half-aware that his scent was fanning out, yet it was futile.

“Alright.” Came the weak relief of a reply, and he hung up, turning to search for his boss to get the go-ahead to leave, early.

………………….

You could only send a quick “door’s unlocked” text, before drying your hair, wrapping your naked form in a soft blanket, as this time, you flopped on your bed. It didn’t work, if anything, your body tried harder to burn up, warming you up, as well as your stubborn muscles and pheromone couldn’t just get the hint that you needed a break.

He was your last resort. You really did like the thought of him touching you and being affectionate. What you had minded, was him being uncomfortable, or reluctant and not really wanting to make love, yet. Your ears burned.

You desperately called him. While he was at work. Shame and a bit of guilt ate up at you, but your mind couldn’t process it further, as the front door of your bedroom door had flew open, surprising you in your blanketed form. The familiar smell had struck lightening to your senses, as well as of course the new mix of motor oil and grease, but that didn’t deter you.

He was staring at you, pupils blown wide with a sympathetic look that barely drowned out the pure hungry one. You swallowed thickly. He had a dried smear of oil on his face, his hair wild, and he wore a tight, orange shirt, this time. You still had the dried tear stains, your body flushed despite the cool shower, and of course your distressed scent lingered in the air. His shoulders softened as he shut the door, making his way towards you on the bed.

“Oh, Baby, look at ya.” He fretted, cupping your cheeks as he leaned his forehead against yours. You sighed.

“Do you want this?” Was blurted out between the two of you. Faces reddening, he shyly looked down, first.

“I mean…you’re the one in heat, ya know?”

“I didn’t want to just…use you because I was in heat. You’re not a tool, Tai.”

The two of you looked at each other.

He burst out laughing, to your utter dismay.

“What?” You tried, but he wiped his eyes, giving short little huffs as he caught his breath.

“We’re both worried about somethin’ that’s equally consent, right?”

You nodded.

“So we can waste no further time, right?”

“Right.” You answered, and he stared at you, before leaning in to kiss you gingerly. You could scream in relief at the contact, and he moaned into the kiss gripping your hand gently, giving it a soft squeeze. You decided to pull away the blanket covering you, letting him indicate the hint as he all but stripped off his clothes, placing them in the closet, noticing the used pillows that he’d given you.

“They helped?” He murmured, glancing from them to take in your exposed form. You laid there, feeling his eyes rake over you, and you couldn’t help but like the burning intensity from amber pupils as you took him in, as well. His tight shirts paled in comparison to what was underneath. He was a sight to see; muscular, yes, but you loved his roundness, too, and although not really knowing him, he had made you feel comfortable and warm, and things that you don’t usually feel.  

“Considerably. I…don’t use other people’s things like that.” You told the truth shyly, despite the crawling inferno in your abdomen. He couldn’t help but feel the need to just nurture, his beta instincts screaming at him that this is his mate, you need to be taken care of. Going with them, he couldn’t help join you on the bed, seeing that you’ve kept the blanket only around your shoulders. He leaned down and kissed you, running his calloused, worked hands across the goosebumps on your heated shoulders and arms.

It was fluttery and warm, and although it ended a little too soon for your liking, he pecked your cheek, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, letting you do the same as the two of you let each other’s scents of “home” wash over the both of you. Time slowed down for a minute, but then you couldn’t help but let out a low whine as your heat sparked up again, and he of course could smell it directly.

“I wanna take this slow, Honey, but ya look like a wreck wanting to get some relief.” He hummed, gently kissing your ear, relishing in your small shiver.

“I was worse, earlier, but a cool shower and you had helped me, considerably, but I think it’s crawling back up, again.” You whimpered, and he understood.

“Alright. Lemme take care of ya, Sweetlin’.” He murmured, hesitantly breaking away, turning his attention to the literal core of your problems. You looked so flushed down there, sopping wet with slick and just needing to be laved with attention, and so he did. He ignored your small jump and slight yelp as he breached two digits past your folds, and into the loosened muscle of your opening. Of course omegas were born to take it with little resistance, but he was a considerate mate.

 Bringing one of your legs on top of his shoulder, and the other securely around his waist, he eyed your reactions as he slowly pumped now three fingers into your tightness, eliciting small whimpers of approval from you, making his inner beta purr with contentment, knowing that he was soothing and satisfying his hurting beloved intended.  

Your couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, biting the back of your hand as he scooted down, letting himself being able to properly taste you and your insides fluttered at his bitten moan of approval. Good mate, he was such a good provider. Coming when you were in a dire time of need, making sure that he had full consent. Your legs tightened over his shoulder and waist when his attention went to your bud, lolling it stiffly around his tongue as his fingers pumped, curled, and stretched, and you felt yourself tighten like a bow string, ready to be set loose, any moment.

“Sweetlin’, are ya ‘bout to cum?” He broke away to ask, and you bit out a whine of disappointment at the loss, but nodded your head, anyway as you opened your eyes, seeing him through a constellation of blurry tears as you blinked rapidly.

Sighing softly, he gingerly gave a small kiss to your inner thigh, rather apologetically.

“Don’t fret, Honey. I’ll give you what you want, alright? I’m just makin’ sure that you’re ready, an’ still wantin’ this.” He hummed, and you felt a trickle of relief from his caring sincerity. Your hands, once clenched in the sheets, reached over and stroked his cheek rather gently.

“I’m fine, Darling.” You couldn’t help but gaze upon him rather softly, as he gingerly took your hand that held his cheek, and kissed your palm, letting his nose nestle in the scent glands within your wrist as he returned your equally, gentle look of affection.

“Alright.” He said after your affirmative nod. You were slick and loose, and he guided himself to your opening, pushing the tip of the head in, stilling as you stiffened. He regained his posture to hover over you, bringing his hands upon your breasts, kneading them gently as he leaned down, fawning over you with attention and affection, pushing forward slowly when he felt that your body relaxed more into his kisses.

“That’s it, Honey. Just a little more, alright, Darlin’? You’re doin’ so well, Sweetheart.” He murmured lowly, hot breath fanning over your flushed face as you took him in to the hilt, finally.

You were ready to burst, and he seemed to know it.

“Go ahead and cum, alright? We’ve got other rounds to go. I bet ya’re pent up. Poor thing.” He cooed, letting his gentleness wash over you as you rolled your hips, liking the way that the curved, fat head, hit a certain spot within you. Contrary to belief, omegas didn’t need a knot to be satisfied, and with your only mate, you already were. Taking his cue, he met your thrusts rather ecstatically, giving sharper, shorter ones while not pulling out even an inch, thumbing your clit, cursing as you couldn’t help but feel yourself tighten around him rather harshly. Wanting to receive a biting mark in which signified a mated bond for life, he asked, and you delivered, sharpened canines didn’t think twice to the inner omega’s and beta mate’s command for you to just claim, and you did.

All of the failed attempts of an orgasm, earlier, came crashing into you as the metaphorical bowstring snapped, shooting jolts of electricity and sheer tears of relief flooded your eyes, your teeth had clamped harder onto the spot near his jugular, and he didn’t hesitate to give you his own mating bite, rutting into you rather wildly like a rabid animal, teeth sunken into the skin of your scent glands, marking you as his, as he churned your tightened walls.

He was riding with you through your own euphoria, him stilling, only to flood them with his own release as he let out a pure satisfied groan into your bitten flesh. Staying still fter what had seemed to be multiple minutes, he released his jaw from your wound, as you did the same. The two of you favored to slowly lave at each other’s freshly scarred bites, healing them.

After a while, you broke free, panting harshly as you felt dizzy with relief, having the dreadful heat be sated by such a kind and wonderful lover.

“Might be a lil’ too soon, but fuck it. I love ya.” He panted out as the two of you climbed down from your climatic highs, he making sure that you weren’t seriously too hurt by the bite. He brushed your sweaty locks of hair away from your face, and you cupped his face rather gently, kissing him.

“I love you, as well.” You admitted. Sure it was soon, but you couldn’t care less. He deserved to know that his feelings were reciprocated, and you, feeling relieved and yet tired, wanted him to know it.

“How about we clean up, a little, and continue this later, alright?” He hummed, and you agreed.

………………….

After cleaning up, you rested your head on his arm as the two of you talked about everything and nothing. His scent had actually helped keep your heat at bay longer than originally planned, and so the two of you were content in just the sheer intimacy of lazy pillow talk.

Each admired one’s bite, although it did break the skin and scarred, one’s saliva had healing properties to keep it cleaned and from getting infected. Now and then, he opted to kiss yours, licking a fresh stripe to help keep it cleaned, and you did the same.

You didn’t remember when you had fallen asleep, but you’ve never felt so peaceful within your life, waking up with him gripping you into a tight hug, a string of drool pooled at the corner of his mouth as he snored rather softly. Finding this cute, you checked the time on your clock, and decided to stir and wake him up around midnight, celebrating the New Year with a New Year’s kiss.

………………….

Aaaaaaaaaah. It’s done and took me a little bit longer than I thought it would, but I’m happy with it. For those who’re new to abo, I tried my best to explain, but also throw in some twists (ie our boy being a beta bc they’re Important and need more love).  

[princeanxious]

Part One; “A Wounded Snake Lies Still”

A continuation fic in the au i built from this art piece I did and this post that I’d written that inspired this whole idea. I don’t know how many parts there will be, but the plan is for it to be hurt/comfort? It’s just that the comfort comes in small increments, but I promise the ending will be happy!

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Ships: mentions of past healthy Anxceit, start of story begins w/ analogical, end goal is analoceit! Side royality, Remus is lowkey Aro.

Minor Trigger Warnings: in no particular order.. brief mentions of painful memory loss, brief food mention, Remus and Deceit as sympathetic characters in general, accidental revealing of a secret-Remus feeling awful about it and Deceit being completely forgiving on it. Deceit being sorta selfish but also being very selfless without realize it. Deceit lying when he speaks/ backwards talk.

Serious Trigger Warnings: (slight spoilers) Deceit ignores his own distress in favor of keeping up a nonchalant act around the others, and doesn’t process his inner emotions in a healthy way. Deceit repressing years of his own resurfacing emotional trauma that originally came from his separation from Virgil, Deceit also briefly relives said trauma in the fic and pretends nothing is wrong even though something Really Is. Patton has minor empath abilities in this au and accidentally gets hit with a ride of very negative emotions that Deceit is already internally feeling when he touches Deceit.

(Let me know if I need to tag something else!)

Summary: Virgil’s missing memories have always been a touchy subject. After Remus and Deceit gain their acceptance of from the Light Sides and Thomas, Deceit still seems to have a few secrets to hide. If you asked him, he’d tell you it was for the best that he kept them. Partially concealing the truth was a slippery slope, indeed. But, could you really blame him? When Virgil was dating Logan and finally seemed happy again? To him, All the repression of his own trauma was worth Virgil’s happiness. Their years of love were lost with Virgil’s memories of the past, and there was no way in hell Deceit was about to jeopardize Virgil’s current stability now, not when the only person at fault for losing was Deceit himself.(or, was it? He’s never sure anymore. Trauma is a fickle beast.) Well, one slip up from Remus is all it takes before Deceit finds himself faced with that exact dilema fast approaching, and he finds he is less than prepared to face the music..

[[MORE]]

“Ugh, gross. In front of my deodorant?? Could you guys like. Not?? Be romance-y in the living room?? You two remind me of when Dee and Virgie were dating.” Remus grumbled offhandedly, too tired to deal with his twin’s particularly loud and loving attention directed towards Thomas’s literal representation of the heart this late into the afternoon.

They’d been loudly and shamelessly flirting back and forth from across the room while everyone set up for movie night, Roman in the living room with the others and Patton in the kitchen with Deceit making snacks. It was only seconds later that the duke realized his slip up as everything and everyone around clattered to a halt, the other sides turning stare at him in confusion.

Three years. It had taken Deceit three long, painstaking years and counting to distance himself from the years of memories he’d spent in bliss, to separate his mind from the heartbreak of losing his only love. Three years to come to terms with the fact that his only love now held no memories of the time they spent together, to accept that his love now deeply loved another.

Three years to come to terms with the fact that Virgil would never know what it was like to watch helplessly as his love writhed in pain. To watch as The Line ripped the memories from his love’s very being, forcing Virgil into a clean slate. Three years to come to terms that Virgil would never remember.

Three years of patience and heartbreak and anguish and lies, telling himself that it’d be okay, telling himself that he would move on and heal eventually. Three years of painstakingly separating himself from the narrative he and Virgil used to share, and ensuring that Virgil never had any inkling to what had been of his past. It was the only secret Deceit ever asked Remus to keep.

Rest assured, he’d tried to respark Virgil’s memories many times in the first few months after Virgil crossed over The Line from Dark side to Light, having ultimately crossed for good. It’d only led to fight after fight, driving a wedge further and further between them with each escalated argument. With a bleeding heart, he’d eventually given in, and stopped any further attempts. After all, each attempt only seemed to fuel Virgil with irritation. It had been clear then, that whatever they’d had, was never going to be again.

Three years it’d been. He thought he’d nearly healed, really. Most days he found he could exist and interact with the others and not be reminded of the past, and be comforted that he himself would not be a reminder to the past. Repression had always been his strong suit, though, conciously or not.

The Line had diminished as of late, after Thomas had really begun accepting Deceit and Remus. They could cross The Line for long amounts of time now, and mostly be fine. Occasionally they suffered from a bout of fatigue when disagreements with the others briefly turned sour, feeling The Line tugging back at them insistently. It never lasted for long, but there was always that underlying worry that The Line would finally snap them back into the dark for good if one of them made a final wrong move. The Light Sides didn’t know about The Line, not even Virgil remembered stumbling away from it after all that had happened. And well, if it were up to Deceit? They would never find out about it. Too many questions, too many messy answers.

Three years later, Deceit finds his heart splintering once more, an ache sinking into his chest that he knows Patton feels as they stand nearby one another. Memories flood in harshly, a deep painful longing resurging from the depths of his mind as it always did when faced with his reoccurring trauma sinking its claws into his psyche.

It’s only been seconds, but the silence is starting to feel heavy. Instead of moving on from the previous comment, Remus glances to Deceit, eyes pleading and devastated by having made his mistake, breaking the only promise to Dee he’d ever been seriously asked to keep. And Deceit knows he must do what he does best to save face, there is still time to redirect the carnage.

“Remus, please don’t refrain from spreading lies, that’s certainly not my job, after all.” He teases lightly, keeping his tone precisely on the edge of amused confusion, though his eyes hold an understanding none of the others know to read for. “Next you won’t be telling me that your favorite animal is a squid, not an octopus. Not your worst try at shock humor, yes?”

Remus catches on after a millisecond, drawing out a full cackle. “Sorry, not sorry! You should’ve seen the looks on your faces though! Priceless!! Who knew a shitty joke falling so flat would shock everyone so good!”

Their reactions held the desired effect. Quickly, everyone around the room seemed to relax, Roman even firing back his own playful quip to further lighten the mood. In the end, it was just a bump in conversation, something Remus caused every once in a while as everyone adjusted and Remus learned. Not a single step amiss that wasn’t already expectedly out of line.

Still, he’d have to talk to Remus in private later. Remus was just as sensitive to rejection as Roman was, and paired with his inherently intrusive thoughts, it would come to no surprise if Remus already thought Deceit now hated him. He didn’t, it’d been an accident, and Remus’s first ever slip up in three years since making the promise. Even if Dee had been mad about the slip up, he wouldn’t have had any right to be. He’d be sure Remus was the first person he sought to soothe when they got a free moment alone, it wasn’t right to let those kinds of thoughts fester.

Remus first, Virgil next, as it wasn’t quite crisis averted. He could feel Virgil’s eyes on his back from the living room. He denied his bleeding heart the closure of meeting Virgil’s gaze, of sharing his expression. He was too vulnerable, even now the anxious side could read his tells far too well, often without even realizing why. There was no doubt Virgil would try and talk to him later about it, and no matter how good the terms they were on with each other now were, Deceit knew the conversation would be a rough one. Virgil knows he has missing memories, and only recently had he accepted Remus and Deceit’s vague answers when he’d asked lightly about his past. It was at least him acknowledging they had the answers to the past he doesn’t remember.

If he wasn’t careful, each and every brick in the wall that Deceit had carefully worked to build up in the past three years could crumble right before his eyes, leaving him stripped emotionally defenseless, his trauma bared for all to see. And who knew what the others would do if they knew so much? What would they think of him then? Deceit inwardly shivered at the thought. It would not come to that.

Slipping into the nonchalant act was an easy card to play, it being his strong suit and most comforting form of security, a version of his own little lie of omission to soothe the bumpy situation over.

What he didn’t account for, was Patton gently reaching to touch his arm when everyone else had settled and their attentions returned to their tasks at hand. Deceit fought against his immediate urge to pull away, knowing the moral side just preferred connection through touch when addressing another, and instead looked up to meet Patton with a questioning gaze.

Whatever Patton was about to say died on his lips as he suddenly seemed to reflect an absolutely heartbroken expression, tears welling up in his eyes. Pain and sorrow and surprise seemed to seep into the other’s expression, warring for dominance amongst the primary confusion. It was only then that Deceit realized that Patton was still touching him, his bare arm with an equally bare hand, to be exact. The memory that Patton bore minor empath abilities that were tied into his existence as the representation of Thomas’s morality and feelings sunk in two seconds too late.

Direct skin to skin contact, something Deceit sought often to avoid in general nowadays anyway, was a direct way for Patton to tune into another's current feelings through said abilities, often by accident. There were limits that Patton could control, of course, and Patton only ever seemed to struggle coping with that ability when faced with an overwhelming swell of emotions from the other side. And, well.. Deceit’s mind certainly hadn’t taken well to being reminded of his repressed past, seeping through his protective mental walls with all sorts of roiling negative emotions.

From self-loathing, to dread. From anger, to guilt. From longing, to grief, then to depression, and finally apathy. It just couldn’t be helped that Deceit, a master of disguise and deception, had had three whole years to perfect the act that hid it from the outside and controlled it all from within.

Carefully, Deceit pulled Patton’s hand from his arm, and gently tucked it against the moral side’s chest. Still, he keeps his gloved hand there, letting Patton grasp it with both hands to ground himself after such an emotional ride.

“Deep breaths, dear Patton. Whatever isn’t the matter?” He asks gently, still playing into his act but his eyes plead a different story. ‘Not now,’ they say, ‘I will tell you, but not here,’ they beg. Patton nods slowly, and Deceit carefully wipes away Patton tears. In a move he knows he might regret later if it raises questions, he slips his hat off to gently plop onto the moral side’s head, and gently presses against the others clothed shoulder with his own in a show of comforting affection. It has the desired effect of distracting Patton and lightening his mood, Patton’s lingering upset masked by a watery smile only they can share. Deceit silently mourns the loss of his safety blanket, but accepts that a few minutes of feeling vulnerable while comforting Patton is a good trade to escape having his distress found out. He couldn’t have the other sides cornering him into explaining why Patton had suddenly begun crying without reason. It certainly wasn’t the fact that he felt guilty for Patton having experienced second hand an echo of his painfully raw emotions, no, not at all.

Thankfully their little scene goes unnoticed by the rest of the preoccupied sides, who are far too busy bickering over the movies they want to watch. Well, unnoticed by all but the one who sits to the side. Said side keeps an unconcerned but intrigued eye on the two in the kitchen, glancing over every time he adjusts his glasses to avoid suspicion. Logan says nothing, but knows he has questions for his dearest Virgil when movie night is over. He can only hope that the answers Virgil gives will not raise more questions.

(..Unfortunately, they do raise more questions than answers.. However, they now know exactly who has the answers they seek. It’s only a matter of getting those answers that is a task far harder than they’d ever expected it to be.)

To be continued..

[rosaline-kei]

If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 1/2

Synopsis:  Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman 

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: i’m chill with writing yandere stuff i guess? But remember guys, don’t be a yandere in real life lmao. I hope this was okay, considering i don’t really watch/play yandere animes/games?? I think?? Except for the classics y’know, like Mirai Nikki haha. That aside, thank you for enjoying Bare!  (which y’all can read on my Ao3 lmao). Also, the time period / current time setting of this is messy but shhh....... 

-

Control.

While many cadets would think otherwise, Armin had always struggled with control, sometimes even more than Eren.

Murderous urges never ceased to come creeping up his spine, crawling its way into his heart; strangling it and him entirely—pleading for him to let them go. To let loose whenever anyone goes a little too close to her; whenever anyone dares to invade her personal space, trespassing in his territory.

But Armin knew how to play his cards. Behind his innocent and naïve appearance, deep inside the insanity that dances around his heart like a frisky pup, he was an intelligent and strategic man, who knew how to play this game.

Killing Eren was never, could never be an option. Even if that reckless boy dragged Mikasa down into the turbulence that surrounded him, even if that dense idiot carelessly spat insensitive rubbish in Mikasa’s direction, even if one day he might finally become a sensible man, who was capable of loving her—he can’t kill him. And it was not just because they shared a history together, because they shared a bond.

It was because he knew Eren’s death would send Mikasa in a spiral down into the depths of hell or null. He had the horrid chance of witnessing it once; the impact of Eren’s death on Mikasa.

And it was because he loves Mikasa, he didn’t want her to suffer through that again, so he kept Eren and a few others that appeared to be close (but not that dangerously close) to Mikasa. He didn’t, and never wanted to see her hurt. Besides, he would often think, there are other fathomable and less bloody ways of making her mine, before anyone else.

For now, Armin wasn’t fixated in eliminating the ‘what if’ possibilities where Mikasa winded up with someone else that wasn’t him. For now, he chose to instead focus on his next step in this messed-up game. And for now, in this game, he decided to let them live.

Call him obsessive, but the blonde was lovesick.

Armin didn’t remember how his feelings escalated into this splendid travesty; how this wicked side of him woke. What he did remember was that one day, a day where Eren was absent, a day where it was just the two of them, a day where Armin really had the chance to admire and marvel in the Ackerman’s heavenly presence, did he start to fall.

“Armin…? Are you alright?” Mikasa asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You appeared… troubled earlier, was it because you saw him?” The concern emanating from her tone was enough to throw Armin’s senses off a cliff; and that was barely an exaggeration. Anything, and maybe everything that came out of her mouth was considered a melody to Armin.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Everything about her was a soothing melody. Her voice, her breath, her heartbeat. Even just her looks. That much was enough to compose a symphony in Armin’s head.

“No… it’s nothing.” Armin assured with a hum as he turned towards her direction, putting on the brightest smile he could manage in the dim-lit room that they were to rest in. For a motel in the underground, this far exceeded Armin’s expectation. Despite the poor lighting along with the peelings of decayed wallpaper hanging loose from the cracked, yellowed walls, Armin had honestly anticipated for the condition of this room to be much worse, with insects possibly crawling about, spiders readying to defend their territory or hunt.

Regardless, as long as Mikasa was comfortable, it was fine.

That aside, the last thing Armin had expected was to see that man who harassed him back then, when he was forced to doll up, dress up as Historia Reiss. Then again, the fact that the two of them were ordered to investigate these parts of the underground for clues regarding a separate issue (one that was fortunately not about Eren being kidnapped, again) was even more unexpected, bewildering even. The crippling world existing on the surface was chaos enough, and Armin would’ve had expected for Levi to keep them around in case that Ripper would show up since they were vital members of his squad. Or at least, not send two cadets on a mission alone, having to navigate the unfamiliar underground the first time by themselves, with a poorly drawn map that could’ve been mistaken with a child’s doodle. Then again, as much as he’d like to question his decision, he didn’t have an opportunity to. Who knows what was going behind the scenes? Armin couldn’t help but ponder.

On the bright side, he was alone with Mikasa.

On the darker side, however…

“If anything, I should be asking you that, Mikasa.” Armin remarked, his smile and other features morphing into something more worried. “You looked… uncomfortable, out there.” It took him every ounce of effort to not let his maliciousness seep through and poison his tone when he thought back to the stares Mikasa received—particularly by one herd of obnoxious barbarians that were bold and foolish enough to cackle out inappropriately snide remarks about her oriental features as they made their way towards the bar.

It made his blood boil.

“…I just don’t understand why people like them exist, that is all. I don’t have time to be concerned with people like them.” She said coldly; a tone and sentiment Armin hoped to never be on the receiving end of. What’d he ever do if Mikasa were to hate him? Or if Mikasa were to find out his… tendencies?

Armin didn’t plan to find out. He was a curious soul, but not that curious.

Slowly, Mikasa shifted herself slightly to the left side of the bed before patting the vacant right side. “Lay down… there’s room. Besides, that couch looks like it could be invested with termites.” She offered calmly, resisting a yawn.

“E-Eh?!” Armin stuttered, face flushed. He had been too busy… scheming, and had forgotten that there was a possibility of them having to share a bed.

It wasn’t the first time but… he wanted to feel her warmth, so badly, so desperately. He wanted to cling onto her, and never, never let her go. He wanted to be close to her, to be overwhelmed by her godly presence again and again. It would just be the two of them. No distractions, nothing.

Unfortunately, Armin had to reject, or rather postpone her offer, as reluctant as he was.

His hand stretched back, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I… would love to, but… I haven’t eaten any dinner yet since we left. I saw a store selling bread nearby, so I’ll head there for a bit.”

“What?” Mikasa’s eyes widened, shocked to hear that he was running on an empty stomach. “I’ll come w—”

“No, it’s fine!” Armin reassured. “You need to… rest. Please.” He didn’t want to trouble her.

Despite his plea for her to rest, she stood up in protest, stomping her way towards him. The fierceness in her eyes clearly made it evident to him that she was against the idea. Cute, he thought. He adored how dedicated and devoted she could be to the people she made room for in her heart, he greatly appreciated her concern, but…

“But it can be dangerous—”

“If I don’t come back within forty-five minutes… then come looking for me.” Armin smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s just a quick stop, and I’ll head back. I can handle my own.”

Mikasa looked at him, stared with him eyes brimming full of genuine worry, concern and conflict. It made Armin’s heart skip and flutter. That look served a reminder to Armin that she cared about him, so much.

After a long tangible silence that stood between them (that Armin didn’t break, couldn’t break. He was too hypnotized by her looks; by her), she finally resigned and with a sigh, “Fine.” She said.

Armin was perfectly capable of handling himself, she knew that. He wasn’t weak. Even if he didn’t excel in physical strength as much as she did, he made it up with his brains; his intelligence that always aid in his and their escape in whatever tricky predicaments.

“But… please,” She muttered, her hands reaching out to grab his free hand, holding them closely, tightly. “Don’t stay out too long… the later it gets, the more ruffians are out there.”

“U-Uhuh!” Armin nodded, savouring her touch, her warmth, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks and a mad rush of blood surging. It was thrilling, and an expression nearly slipped from his control.

Control Armin, control. He reminded himself. Now wasn’t the moment for Mikasa to witness how much she had an effect on him. He was practically wrapped around her finger, in some sense, and he didn’t mind. It was relieving, he was glad.

Perhaps if it wasn’t just the two of them, he would have more control about his expressions that had a possibility of exposing what he felt for her. He loved her, but at the same time, what he felt for her was more than that.

There was no going back, now.

Once Mikasa had let go, he left, knowing that there was no time to waste.

As he left, he felt a wave of ecstasy swinging within him as he relished the lingering warmth that Mikasa’s hand had imprinted on his. Ahhhh! The warmth is all the same… He thought, humming to himself as he skipped towards his destination. Her touch is all the same… ah… sometimes I just want it all to myself.

Upon arriving at his destination, his humming stopped, and what took over was a determined look mixed with some animosity. Taking a deep breath as he re-calculated his plans, he entered the bar with a thirst for vengeance.

[yeojaa]

SWEET LULLABIES, chapter iii. (w. JJK)

You've never loved in half measures.  It's always been all or nothing.  You didn't even mind when your heart was bigger than theirs.  Lopsided or not, you made up for whatever they wouldn't give.  But when you've finally met your match, what will happen?

alt summary.  You're crazy in love and for once, so is he.

pairing.  jeon jungkook.  

genre + rating.  a whole lot of angst with a bit of fluff if you squint.  general.

warnings / tags.   friendship, best friends, best friends to lovers, friends to lovers, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is whipped, smitten jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings.

reading.  sweet lullabies is a series of one-shots that tie into and conclude my other story, sugar high.  both are part of the best friends means forever series.  this is a bonus chapter from kook’s point of view. 

word count.  ~6250

chapter 3.  Save Me

The one where he’d almost lost you.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it;  luckily, he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to.

After all, you’re a dream come true.  You’re everything he’d ever hoped for, years of toffee-sweet daydreams and quiet desires wrapped up with a ribbon and presented in the form of his beloved best friend.  His Polaris - his north star in every sense of the word, guiding him home whenever he needed it.  A person to hold him close, to tend to the oft-neglected garden blooming behind a brassy ribcage.  You’re everything he’d ever wanted and even the things he hadn’t known he had.  

“What’re you thinking about?”  A question slotted into silence by a gentle hand and half-lidded stare, warmth dusting over the exposed expanse of Jungkook’s collar.  It feels like a beckoning to dreams and he can’t help but smile, expression endlessly soft as he inspects the girl in his arms.  His girl.  

He hums once, a noncommittal sound.  “Nothing.  Go back to sleep, baby.”  It’s true for the most part.  It’s nothing now.  But once upon a time, it’d been the single most frightening possibility.  Losing you.

And oh, how close he’d been to that.

NOVEMBER 27, 2017

“Seriously?”  It sounds bad - he knows it does - tight and terse between his teeth.  It’s coloured an alarming shade of red and acts like a beacon to those around him because there aren’t many things that have him acting out in this particular way.  

After all, he’d grown up in a very short period of time - something he was endlessly proud of and incredibly grateful to his hyungs for.  Their patience and mentorship had helped shape him into the well-adjusted young man he was now.  

Or usually was.  Not right now, though.    

“What’s wrong, Jungkookie?”  It’s Jimin -  seated closest to him and always somehow strangely aware of everything - who speaks first and in dulcet tones meant to coddle and soothe, lithe arm finding its way around his maknae’s shoulders.  Seated how they are, it’s easy, but Jungkook notices with amusement that it won’t always be.  Soon, he’ll be far too broad for this.  Their little muscle pig wasn’t so little anymore.

His response is immediate, though filled with petulance and beneath that, the tiniest tinge of shame.  “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,”  comes the same songbird, his head dropping to rest easily against the youngest member’s.  Jimin knows he’s pushing but he also knows he needs to.  It’s easy to read the golden boy.

Silence stretches for a beat, then another, and he almost sighs - but doesn’t.  Jungkook can feel it rising in the other’s chest before it’s stolen away by his grudging response.  They’re less childish now, though still a bit sullen, rounded by a pout that he can’t seem to help.  “It’s just Soo.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise to the smaller dancer, his expression thoughtful.  “What’s going on?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

Truthfully, Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.  In fact, he wasn’t even sure if anything was going on - or if it was all just in his head.  That was the worst part:  the uncertainty.  Each intrusive thought, each second guess.  It felt like a downright disease, taking up precious space in his skull and refusing to let go.  

“Jungkookie?”  There’s no expectation in Jimin’s inflection.  It’s only concern in sugar-spun tendrils, holding the nickname aloft.

“I don’t know,”  Jungkook finally manages in a whine.  The slope of his brow is knit together, distress threaded into every line as his arms fold, crossing in a huff over his chest.  He hates feeling silly like this, so he does his best to turn the emotion on its head and force it into something else.  It’s not necessary but it feels a bit better, like a fortress he can hide his heart within.

A sigh expels, exits through his nostrils in a sharp push of air.  He knows Jimin is just trying to help but he’s having trouble formulating words into coherent sentences.  The thoughts are too jumbled in his head, bouncing around like an overzealous energizer bunny.

“She’s been really distant lately.”  A partial answer, because he’s sure there are a million other reasons he could give.  Like he was simply stressed (true) or you’ve been posting about your great new life in the States and hardly answering him (the same answer as his original but a little too much to admit).

Or even that you’d mentioned a new friend - a male friend who, surprisingly, hit closer to home than he’d expected - and now he was seething.  Except he’d never repeat that last one.  It wasn’t his place to.  He was your best friend.  Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aren’t her exams coming up soon?”  

Leave it to Park Jimin to find the middle ground - that grey area in between all the good and the bad and frame it in a way that had Jungkook frowning, softly rounded mouth dragging in distaste.

He hadn’t even thought about that.  Or maybe he had, but it’d gotten lost among all the white noise and loneliness.  Frankly, he’s not sure.  His thoughts were always full of you and it was hard to distinguish sometimes.  “Maybe.”

“So maybe she’s just busy?”  As if Jungkook hadn’t already considered that.  He wasn’t trying to be crazy.  In fact, he hated it with every ounce of his being.  But he’d seen the photos you’d sent (admittedly, directly to him) and he knew you weren’t too wrapped up in your finals.  You’d found time in between the late night study sessions to attend house parties, knocking back venti-sized Americanos the next morning to stave off hangovers.

It was surprising, actually.  You’d never been great at handling your liquor - something you insisted you got from your father - but you were out all the time now and always with them.

Yejin, he didn’t mind.  She’d appeared in FaceTimes with you often enough that he’d developed his own sort of rapport with her.  She didn’t give a shit about the Korean music industry and treated him like anyone else, albeit with a lot more scoffing English than he’d ever faced before.

It was her cousin that left a bad taste in his mouth, a mixture of vinegar and battery acid.  Not that Kim Woosung was a bad person - at least, from what he’d heard from the people here, and definitely not from you.  Rather, it was jealousy, that cruel green monster rearing its ugly head.  It’d made a home in his chest, unleashing balefire at anyone remotely close to the aching thing in his chest.

Because that’s what you were - his heart in human form.  

But he’d never expected you to disappear halfway across the world.  He’d always thought you’d be here, holding his hand.  Now he had this gaping you-shaped hole in his chest and he didn’t know how to fill it.  Truthfully, didn’t know if he wanted to.  

“Maybe,”  he relents, quiet as a mouse.  He knows he isn’t fooling anyone by the whispered admission but it’s a shutting door, sealing the conversation for another time.

NOVEMBER 30, 2017

He can feel the stare burning into the back of his head before the words reach his ears.  

“What time did you sleep last night?”  There’s no judgment, no anger - just soft shades of concern and coaxing swept across each syllable. That’s why Namjoon was such a good leader - he knew how to approach his members.  Understood them, possibly, better than they did themselves.

“I don’t remember.”  Jungkook’s answer is full of apology, a guilty smile framing the pink turn of his mouth and forcing a dimple into his cheek.  He thinks it must’ve been around two or three in the morning, as he’d stayed up to talk to you after your first class.  Stayed up after being out all day and practising for hours.  

The shadows under his eyes might as well have been a glaring neon sign or an advertisement for the sleep-deprived.

Namjoon says nothing, his expression still endlessly kind, just barely touched with reproach by the line of his lips and the subtle tension in his jaw.  He’s careful - he needs to be when it comes to matters of the heart with his maknae.  Because despite his dismissive laughter and playful nature, Jungkook was also one of the most sensitive members.  He just hid it well - sweeping it behind his bunny smile and witch’s cackle.  

Consideration stretches silence on for a beat longer before the taller of the two is smiling, crescent moons forming his eyes.  A hand cards through silk the colour of smoke and he regards the younger boy with tenderness.  “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

“I won’t.”  What Jungkook means to say is he’ll try to remember.  He has to, for them.  Because his actions weren’t just his own - hadn’t been since he’d committed to this crazy wild path years ago - and he has to be considerate.  Has to be better.  “Thanks, hyung.”  

“Just watching out,”  comes the elder’s response with a noncommittal wave of his hand, focus already reassigned to the book laid across the table in front of him.  He’s so immediately absorbed into it that Jungkook’s a little envious, legs of his chair dragging over linoleum as he edges himself into Namjoon’s personal space.  

It’s a testament to their close bond that he doesn’t even flinch, simply shifting ever so slightly to the right to allow Jungkook a better view over his shoulder.

Maybe this is what he needed - a distraction.

“Hyung.”  The inflection immediately perks Namjoon’s attention, head turning just so to acknowledge the other’s address.  “How do you...”  A prolonged pause as Jungkook mules his next words over, finger resting delicately on his cupid’s bow.  Was he really doing this?  “How do you... distract yourself?”  Okay, so not quite the question he’d meant to pose, but good enough for the time being.

Straight brows pitch higher, shooting up in surprise.  Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, it isn’t this.  “What do you mean distract myself?”

Suddenly, Jungkook’s on the spot, the full weight of the rapper’s stare turned on him.  The focus makes him waver, teeth wearing through the supple interior of his cheek and the soft petal of his bottom lip.  Fingers fidget, push and pull on the sweater paw he’s formed.  

“Uh.”  Good one, JK.  

He clears his throat once, twice.  He looks a little chagrined, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  

“When you’re going through things—”  The attempt at ambiguity is as transparent as the windows around them.  “—that are hard, how do you distract yourself?  How do you forget about it?”

“Well, you don’t just forget about your problems.”  Something about Namjoon’s expression has him looking away, flustered.  “I say it’s always better to try to fix your problems than to run from them but,”  and Jungkook latches onto this inch of give,  “if you need a distraction for a while, find something that takes up the extra time you’d otherwise spend stressing about the problem.  A hobby, maybe.”

Well, he had tons of those.  He gamed in his downtime - his Widow headshots were unparalleled, if he was being honest.  He filmed whenever they were out;  he’d even cut and uploaded his and Jimin’s recent trip to Tokyo.  He worked out, forcing his body into a state of fatigue that left his thoughts far too tired to run cruel circles through his mind.  But it was never enough.

“I have hobbies.  It doesn’t work.”  There’s a desperate edge to his words that he hadn’t meant to let slip.  “It’s fine.  Whatever.”  Again, another door closed.  Slammed shut by his own foot in his mouth.

“Then maybe it’s an issue you can’t just distract yourself from.”

Of course Namjoon’s right.  Jungkook knows that but it doesn’t help the bitterness that bleeds onto his tongue and rots enamel.  “That’s not an option.”  Rather, he wouldn’t let it be.  There were do’s and don’ts in best friendships and confessing your unrequited love was on the hard list of don’ts.

“Jungkook-ah...”

“What?”  It explodes off of his tongue, though he doesn’t mean for it to.  The nerves are fizzling in his stomach, ricocheting from his mouth like fireworks into the quiet between them.  They’re too bright - demanding attention.  He thinks, if they were real, they’d paint pretty silhouettes of the girl he can’t get out of his mind.

“Just tell her.”  

“No.”  

They’re an immovable object and an unstoppable force.

Harder now, edged with exasperation and so much concern it makes Jungkook’s heart stutter in his chest.  “You have to.”  

“I can’t.”  Emphatic, spoken with both lips and eyes.  They beg for understanding, like a man lost at sea desperate for a ship on the horizon.  Because that’s exactly what he is – a lovelorn sailor swept to his doom by the siren call, one he’s utterly defenceless against.  He wouldn’t be like this if he had any other choice.  

“Okay.”  A pause, a sigh, a relent.  “I’m here if you need anything.”

DECEMBER 14, 2017

It’s two weeks later when he needs that anything, driven to it by the radio silence he feels in his bones, tearing apart each and every part of him like a black hole devouring the stars.  Because rather than it being a tangible pain he can distract from - replace with another, sharper sting - it’s become a dull ache that exists in every action and inaction, engulfing his thoughts even as they try to focus on anything else.

He thinks he can’t be held responsible for the choices he makes when there’s too much going on in this head of his, his thoughts far too jumbled to be held accountable.

So he smiles at the very pretty girl that’s been deemed the anything he needs and tries to focus on the way her mouth curls, painted an intoxicating shade of ruby red.  He trains his attention on the flutter of her lashes, the coquettish way she ducks her head when he meets her stare.  He memorizes the way her voice pitches and drops, sugary sweet and decidedly feminine.

Does it because it’s the only way to fill the lovesick hole in his heart, even if it doesn’t really work.  Even if the puzzle piece doesn’t quite fit, corners snipped and reassembled to take up the space the essential piece has left behind.

“I can’t believe you asked for my number,”  she's saying, all rose-tinted cheeks and a smile he finds endearing.  Fingers - short, slim, dainty - smooth over the ceramic of her cup and she peers at him from over the edge.  It’s meant to be sly, to draw his attention to the way her mouth curls around the lip, and for a moment, it does.  It piques something in the back of his mind, apathetic green monster rearing its ugly head at the prospect of something new.

Something not named Park Soomi.

He latches onto the interest with both hands, proverbial grip torn apart by rug burn and his attempt to hold onto it.  He needs this.  He needs this so fucking bad.  “Why not?”

“I mean, you’re you.”  The way she says it makes the hair on the back of Jungkook’s neck rise and the fingers in his lap curl into fists.

It brews bitterness on his tongue - the aroma of his coffee lost to the taste.  He can’t help the reaction, even while he knows he can’t blame her for it (nor should he).

After all, she had the Namjoon stamp of approval.  And if there was anything he trusted, it was his leader‘s judgment.

“I’m just a normal guy,”  he insists, mouth full of laughter he forces out.  He says it with as much meaning as he can, though he knows the words don’t hold much weight.  Not when they’re so at odds with the truth.  Luckily, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

She doesn’t have a rebuttal now, only choosing to offer that same soft smile. 

It doesn’t trap him like a star in the galaxy, but it holds his attention.  It reassigns it from the hole in his chest to the brightness of her teeth and the sweetly rounded cupid’s bow and that’s enough.

“I’ll prove it to you.”  Whether he means the words, he’s not sure, but they come of their own volition, sounding off like a promise.  He thinks he can feel warmth spiking across his neck, creeping up past the collar of his flannel once the words settle, a blanket draped over the cozy space they've carved out in the hole-in-the-wall cafe.  When her eyes follow the heat, coaxing it higher with her stare, he knows it’s there.  It makes him swallow thickly - was he in over his head?

When her hand drifts - those big doe eyes of his tracking every movement - and fingers ghost over the tops of the back of his, he knows he is.

“You’re dangerous, huh?”  He asks, though he knows the answer.  Can see it reflected in the impossibly dark depths of grey circle lenses, contrast stark against the perfectly layered and blended makeup smudged around her eyes.  It’s something he’s used to - that idolizing, somehow endlessly adoring stare he’s seen a million times, in the sea of faces he performs for - but here, it feels different.  A little closer to home.  

"Only if you want me to be."  And he thinks he does.

DECEMBER 21, 2017

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Your voice cuts through his early morning exhaustion, striking a proverbial match as neurons fire off beneath his skin, nerves fizzling in his stomach.  It rings clear across the airwaves and for the first time in what feels like ever, it feels like nails on a chalkboard.  For the first time, it doesn't have honey melting into every crevice, warming him from the inside out.

The smallest flash of irritation flares - a lightning strike in his jumbled thoughts.  It's so drastically different from anything he's ever associated with you.  Maybe this was good.  Maybe this was progress.  

"You called."  Deadpan, because Jungkook's still half-asleep but more than that, he's rough around the edges, your hot and cold treatment of him the past few weeks simmering bitterness in his veins.  "Finally found some time for me?"

The intake of breath has him immediately regretting the words, a breath sucked in sharply through his teeth.  He imagines you're doing the same, by the silence that stretches on.  That, or you're tearing a hole through your cheek.  He wants to tell you to stop - to apologize for being an asshole at 7 o'clock in the morning, but he doesn't.

"I've been busy with exams,"  you finally speak and it sounds so small, his heart twists itself over and over.  It doesn't break, though, and that's a feat he never thought he'd accomplish.

"I know."  It’s all he can say, an octave softer but still miles away from the sunny warmth he's used to spilling forth like an overflowing bucket of yellow paint.  It feels strange to hold himself so closely, refusing to allow his abundance of affection colour every syllable and sweep him headlong into the love he feels for you.  "Did you need something?"

Another inhale and - maybe his ears are playing tricks on him but it sounds strange, wet - you're speaking as quietly as he's ever heard, as if you're afraid your words will elicit an reaction somehow worse than what you've already faced.  "Did you want to watch a movie tonight?"  

He has to applaud you for your insistence, though the tiny, bitter part of himself glimpses that flair of annoyance at the edges of his vision once again.  

"I'm busy."  It's the truth but it's not something that's ever stopped him before.  Jungkook was notorious for making time for you, rearranging his schedule enough to make Namjoon want to rip his hair out.  So it's odd, even to him, that the next words - the lie - rolls of his tongue so easily.  "We're working on a new routine tonight."

"Oh."  

The single word has enough weight to crush his heart beneath your heel.  How fitting that it's actually the opposite now, and your own is crumbling beneath his foot.  At least, that's what he thinks - assumes by the dead silence that follows it.

"Sorry then."  You're trying so hard to keep your voice chipper that it leaps higher than is natural and rings in his ears, making him grimace.  Even if he didn't know you so well, he'd be able to read you like a book.  You're far too transparent.  "Good luck.  I know you'll do great - you always do."  

A thanks is all he offers in response, ready to end the call and only stopped by a heart-wrenching last goodbye.  "I love you, Kook."  

He wishes he'd hung up faster.  

Instead, he utters a soft "you, too" and ends the call.  He has a date to get ready for.

DECEMBER 22, 2017

When he stumbles through the front door of their shared apartment, he can still taste the sticky, not unpleasant sweetness of her lips.  It tingles his tastebuds like fresh berries and makes him laugh a little to himself, back of his hand rising to wipe away the residual gloss.  

Peeling off his shoes - he’s careful not to cause too much of a ruckus because it’s almost one in the morning and the last thing he wants is to wake anyone up - he finds himself humming quietly.  It’s low in his throat and muddled by the taste of beer but it’s there, sweeping the quiet from the entryway as laces untie and boots are neatly tucked away out of sight.

He’d had fun, much to his surprise.  Honestly more than than he’d expected, because he'd never been the biggest fan of upscale restaurants, or bustling bars, or glossy pink lip gloss.  But that'd changed in the span of one night, all those strange things somehow sparking a bunny smile and his trademark, boisterous laughter.

Because Jungkook likes that she comes with all of that and she’s everything he needs - at least for now.

She’s a breath of fresh air in a life dominated by strict practice schedules and mandated appearances.  In a way, she’s everything he'd ever hoped for in a distraction - pretty, fun, a little demanding.  She keeps him on his toes in a way he isn’t used to, never giving his thoughts enough time to re-centre on the silhouette that exists like a cookie-cutter carving in his chest.

A temporary fix, possibly - surely - but he didn't mind.  Couldn't find it in himself to when he'd found some semblance of peace for the first time in weeks.

"Did you tell Soo we had practice tonight?"

The voice breaks him from his thoughts, shoots an arrow that lands bullseye on his heart, and he gasps.  He hadn't noticed the figure lingering in the kitchen, hunched over their kitchen table with one headphone in and a sketchbook in his hands.  

Of course Taehyung would be awake.  Why was he surprised?

Oh, because of the question.  The one he hasn't answered, instead gaping at the other like a fish out of water.  Mouth opens around sound that doesn’t come out then closes and repeats itself twice more.  Taehyung doesn't repeat himself, simply staring at Jungkook with an expression that cuts him to his core.

Because he's not angry, or judgmental.  No, he's disappointed.  It's written into the arches of his brows, the way his headband-covered forehead wrinkles just so.  

"What?"  It's soft, hesitant, careful.  There's already embarrassment crowning, locking into the column of Jungkook's spine and rooting him all the way through to his feet.  It keeps him from advancing further into the apartment, caught halfway between the adjoined living space and the hallway that beckons him to the safety of his bedroom.  

Instead, his gaze swizzles, bounces and leaps between the door at the end of the hall and the other member sitting at the table, focus trained wholly on him.  It's hard to meet Taehyung's eyes - and that feels uncomfortable in a way he doesn't want to think about.

"Did you tell Soo we had practice tonight?"  Finally repeated, verbatim, in that some low drawl of his.  

It's posed as an innocent question, all sleepy eyes and carefully trained mouth.  It makes Jungkook's own purse, tongue rounding the hollow of his cheek.  Though he knows he shouldn’t, the desire to bite back stirs in his stomach and he has to clench his fists at his sides, nails digging crescents into the flesh of his palms.

“Why?”  He’s aware he’s answered a question with another question - something he finds infuriating himself, but he can’t help it.  He’s not ready for the lecture he’s sure will come.

Taehyung shifts, arms folded across his chest, and says nothing.  It’s somehow more unnerving than if he were to tear into Jungkook.

“We were talking earlier.  She asked how practice had gone.”  There’s a sour edge to Taehyung’s explanation, colouring words highlighter yellow and toxic green.  “Imagine her surprise when I had no idea what she was talking about.”  

Jungkook knows there’s no point - no reason to voice the shame he already knows stitches his features together.  Taehyung presses on, nonplussed by his maknae’s discomfort.

“You didn’t tell her you had a date?”  

“Why would I?”  It’s defensive, juvenile, a world away from what he wants it to be.  It garners him a look that teeters dangerously on flabbergasted, Taehyung’s groomed brows gathering tightly over his stare.

For what it’s worth, his words are measured - far more reasonable than Jungkook deserves.  “Because she’s your best friend?”

“I don’t need to tell her everything,”  and while that’s true - it somehow doesn’t feel great with life breathed into it.  Fully realized, it’s harsh and covered in thorns that catch on the way out of his mouth, tearing up the insides of his cheeks with razor-sharp edges.

“She was hurt.”

That should be enough.  At any other time, it would be.   It’d have Jungkook crawling on his hands and knees - anything to wipe that sadness from your face.  But here and now, caught between a rock and a hard place, it means nothing to him.  At least, that’s what he tells himself, forcing down the bile that rises in his throat.  “Then she should mind her own business.”

Taehyung knows this isn’t the Jeon Jungkook he knows.  Knows that this version of their beloved maknae is but a caricature carved from hurt and frustration and bruises that bloom like weeds.   It doesn’t mean it’s okay.

“You don’t mean that,” he says kindly, softer than he has the whole interaction.

“I do,”   comes Jungkook’s immediate retort, though it lacks any real strength.  It’s small, like it wasn’t meant to be said.

“You need to tell her.”

It’s not the first, second, or third time he’s heard these words;  he wishes it were the last.

“No.”  And he’s walking away again, disappearing into the safety of his own room where he spends the next five hours wide awake and miserable.

DECEMBER 25, 2017

It’s the first time he’s spent Christmas without you. It feels wrong, like any other Monday morning rather than the merry day it is. There’s no golden tinsel strung throughout his thoughts, no cheerily sang carols on repeat in his mind. The magic is gone - stripped away by the loss of you.

You haven’t spoken to him in days.  Since his little white lie - because that’s all it’d been, he tells himself - had come to light, you’d made yourself scarce.  There were no more stories posted to social media, no mentions of your name from the other members.  It was like you’d disappeared, taking all the sunlight with you.

Where he’s once laid his head and called home, there was nothing left.

“Come have breakfast, Jungkookie.”  It’s Jimin peeking into his bedroom, small hands curled around the door frame.  His hair’s a little wonky - sticking up at odd angles - but he appears happy, like he should.

Jungkook wonders how he looks.  If the shadows under his eyes give away all the demons that make homes in the hollows.

“I’m not hungry.”  Or rather, he didn’t have an appetite.  Didn’t have much of anything, truthfully.

“You need to eat.”  It’s the same wide-eyed concern he’s seen edged in everyone’s expression.  It makes his throat constrict, the thing in his chest thumping an erratic rhythm as it threatens to launch itself out of its brassy, broken confines. 

Shoulders shift, rise and fall like a breaching wave, and he shakes his head again.  “I’m really not hungry.”  Even to his own ears, he sounds strange.  His words are held together by flimsy strings, knots frayed and ready to split.  There are stirrings of guilt, tendrils of it curling like smoke through his lungs.  It’s only a matter of time until the fire engulfs every inch of him, scorching all in its path. 

He thinks he wouldn’t mind, if it’d replace the ash that lingers in a fine layer over each thought.

What had happened to his distraction?  Where was it - she - now when he needed it most?

Namjoon’s words reverberate in his skull, rattle around like coins in a pocket.  Maybe it wasn’t something he could distract himself from.  Why hadn’t he listened? It would still suck, surely, but he thinks it might not have mutated, shaped into this new divide by his own hand.

Because now there were miles between you and he only had himself to blame - his own face reflected back at him when he sought to find an answer for the radio silence.

It felt worse than he could’ve imagined.

“At least come join us.”  Jimin is insistent, refusing to let Jungkook wallow in his own self-imposed misery.  Hands coax, tugging at the hem of the younger’s sleeve.  It doesn't move him from his spot, two feet planted firmly as the wheels of his desk chair roll in a semi-circle and return to their original position.  They both know Jimin's weight means nothing against Jungkook's but the dancer is insistent, refusing to budge from where he stands, chest to shoulder with the stubborn boy.  "Jungkookie."

When Jungkook remains steadfastly focused on his computer - on the glowing lights of his keyboard, the front page of Naver - Jimin sighs loudly.  He feels a little bad about it.  Jimin's not the reason he's in this position.  

"Jin-hyung went all out.  You don't want to miss this."  

It's a good tactic.  Any other day and Jungkook would've jumped at the thought of a feast.  After all, he was a growing boy which meant he was always, always hungry. 

As if in response - in a great show of rebellion - his stomach rumbles, breaking the silence he'd meant to drag on.  Betrayed by his own body.

He blanches in the same instant Jimin grins, full mouth spread around a smile that screams victory!

"Come on."  This time, Jungkook relents, lets the other's hands coax him from his seat.  He's still a little begrudging though, shoulders inched forward and chin tucked against his chest in an exaggerated display of resistance.  He even drags his bare feet a little, but Jimin is wholly unbothered.  

Because whether the maknae believes it or not, his members know best.  They know the size of his heart and the fact that a very vital piece seems to be missing.  But that doesn't mean they can't fill it in the ways they know how, with boisterous laughter and his favourite ice cream, hand written letters and silly elf hats.  

They might not have been his Christmas miracle but that didn't mean they wouldn't try.

JANUARY 1, 2018

He thinks it should be easier.  The worst had come and gone, after all.  

He'd spent the rest of the holidays occupied with public appearances and precious moments with his hyungs, exchanging small presents and doing everything he could to keep his mind off of you.  It'd worked, for the most part.  He hadn't had enough time to wallow in that pit of despair he'd come to call home, instead pulled from it by obligations and the hands of his loved ones.

And yet he can't help the way he checks his phone, turns it over and over in his hands like another flip might throw the universe into motion, righting its off-kilter axis.  

"You look stressed."  A voice purrs - but it's not you so he doesn't really listen.  Doesn't even flinch when a warm body settles itself against his side in a veil of vanilla powder and glossy curls.  "What's wrong, babe?"  There's a hand on his knee and lips at his ear, roses painting the shell as she presses herself closer.  

Jungkook’s certain it's meant to be reassuring but he can only lean away, eager to put as much space between them as possible.  For the first time, it feels wrong.  Like the distraction wasn't made for him, but by him.  This isn’t what he wants.  It throws every action, every minute adjustment of her features, into stark relief.

So it's impossible to miss the look on her face, how it screams hurt and surprise and what the hell are you doing?  

"What?"  The word comes in a pair - from him and her.  It's almost comical how she sounds in comparison to him, all edges and affront to his soft utterance.  There's venom in her single syllable, laid there by a sharp tongue and sharper teeth.  It's the first time he's been on the receiving end of it and he has to admit - he hates it.  It gnaws at his insides.  He realizes he's letting her down.

Like Frankenstein, he's created a monster he can't control.

"What's your problem?"  She's far less angry than she deserves to be.  If he were in her shoes, he'd be black and blue, howling at the moon.  Instead, she's still soft, affection dulling the bile that rightfully rises in her throat.  Even now, he can see the way she looks at him - larger than life, with stars in her eyes.

Jungkook doesn't find it in himself to answer immediately, instead staring adamantly at an indiscernible point behind her.  "Nothing."  It's the farthest thing from believable, a lie that fixes itself between them, bright red and beguiling.  

"It doesn't seem like nothing."  For what it's worth, she's trying.  He can tell she is by how her tone changes, adapts to the relutance he shows.  She's trying to coax something more from him, shifting slightly closer when he doesn't immediately recoil.  "The fireworks are on.  Let's go join everyone else."

It's a great idea in theory but it's the last thing he wants to do.  So he says as much, shaking his head in the same moment.

"I'm heading home."  It doesn't matter that he's nowhere near their dorms or that she suddenly looks like a kicked puppy.  All Jungkook knows is that he has to be anywhere but here.  "Have fun tonight."

He's rising before she even has a chance to respond, flipping the hood of his sweatshirt up over his carefully styled strands.  When she reaches for him, he retreats a step, putting as much distance between them as he can in the small room.  It isn't easy - she's everywhere, light reflecting off the sequins of her pretty white dress, the scent of her perfume presenting itself with every inhale.

"I'm sorry,"  he says and he means it, despite the disbelief that paints her features.  

Without looking back, he disappears out the door, sliding past the milling bodies, the various performers and staff that wander the halls.  Excitement still buzzes among the dispersed crowd and he finds himself getting swept up in the occasional hello, deterred from his mission over and over again.  

It isn't until his phone rings, tone interrupting the one-sided conversation, that he's able to pull himself away.  He thanks his lucky stars - until he sees the caller ID.

Because it's you.  You - the person he's been waiting for all this time.  

It has his heart hammering in his chest, his grip on the device suddenly so tight he worries he might crack the screen.  You're finally calling him.  After weeks, you were there, familiar contact photo beaming up at him.

"Hello?"  He can hear the hope in his own voice.  

There's a long pause and he feels his throat constrict.  Had you not meant to call?  Was it a pocket dial?  A million questions run rampant through his thoughts, kicking up dust and gravel that he nearly trips over in his haste to get a response.

"Soo?"

"Happy New Year, Jungkook-ssi."  The way you say his name makes him want to cry with relief because there's tenderness still, hidden beneath the soft, half-whispered greeting.  You sound exactly like you always have, if not a little quieter, with more reserve, and he wants to live in the sound, how it settles into his head like it belongs there.  

"Happy New Year,"  he echoes back in a voice thick with emotion.  

You were finally home.

notes.  this chapter is the painful brainchild of mine and @keywepie​ and as such, is dedicated to her.  thank you for letting me talk your ear off and i’m sorry it took so long!

and yes, this kook is very different from the present-day kook in the series but that’s the point.  he was!!  hurting n sad!!  and way younger!!!!!

[harryshollands]

HERE FOR YOU  ( T.H )

Requested:  Nope!

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: A few months after your break up with Tom, you run into his brothers at the grocery store. Paddy manages to convince you to come to his football game by bringing up the pinky promise you’d made almost a year ago.

A/N: Let me know if you want a part two! I really really love writing imagines that involve Paddy and Y/N being adorable. This is no exception. Feel free to send me requests for the Hollands + Haz!

Masterlist! Send a Request!

Word Count: 2.3k

You were doing good. You were drinking your water, you were getting the right amount of sleep and your skin was pretty clear.

That was the overall definition of good, right?

But by your definition, your heart was hurting and you couldn’t bring yourself to chuck out all of the crap that your ex-boyfriend had left you with. It sucked. You’d given five years of your life to Tom Holland and now you had to find yourself once again. Your routine had always revolved around Tom. When you’re dating a movie star you take what you can get.

During your post-breakup slump, you’d managed to eat all of your junk food and now you needed to stock up in general, because once you ran out of sweet stuff you managed to eat all of your cereal.

So, here you were, in the middle of Tesco’s with a shopping cart full of cereal, ice cream, frozen meals and milk, trying to choose between two different types of Oreos.

“Y/N?”

You spun around, glancing at the person who had called your name before breaking out into a grin.

“Hey there, kiddo” You joked as Paddy flung himself into your arms, squeezing you tightly as if you were about to disappear.

“Paddy! Jesus, where are you- oh! Y/N! Hi!” Sam was rushing after his sibling, coming to a halt as he saw Paddy wrapped around you.

“Hiya” You laughed awkwardly, setting Paddy back on his feet as your finger’s gripped your shopping cart in an attempt to calm your nerves.

“I made it to the finals” Paddy blurted, a grin on his face as he watched your own light up.

“I knew you would! Congrats, Paddy! That’s so cool” You congratulated, giving him a high five as Sam glanced around the isle awkwardly. 

You and Sam had been the closest. You had considered him your best friend, so when Tom had ended everything with no warning you both snapped apart.

“Can you come?” 

“Huh?”

“Can you come to the game? You’re always there and we miss you” Paddy clarified, a hopeful look painted on his face paired with his best puppy dog eyes.

Your face fell slightly, but you quickly masked t with a small smile.

“I miss you guys, too, but I can’t just turn up, Padster. It’s different now” You told him softly, attempting to let him down easy before his older brother piped up.

“You should come. You’ve always been the only one who can stop Mum from screaming at people on the other team. Dad made her stay home at the last game” Sam admitted, trying not to laugh at the memory.

“I don’t know, you guys-”

“Tom is still filming in Italy so you won’t have to see him. Pleaaase, Y/N? You promised to be at all of my big football games” Paddy cut you off causing Sam to choke on a laugh at his little brother pulling out the promise card. 

Everyone knew that you kept your promises, and so, reluctantly you nodded your head, caving in to the youngest Holland’s puppy dog eyes and fake pout.

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Paddy cheered, hugging you before rushing out of the aisle in search of Harry who had been flirting with an employee in the freezer section.

“I think you made his day” Sam joked as he gave you a grin, you smiled back awkwardly before nodding.

“He definitely made mine” You mutter softly causing Sam to frown.

“I’ll text you the details for the game. Maybe we could get lunch beforehand? It’s been really weird without you” Your eyes lit up at the thought of hanging out with your best friend again.

“Righty-o, my number is still the same.” You agree, a goofy grin your face matching Sam’s.

“I’ll leave you to your big Oreo decision. Let me know who wins, yeah?”

And that was when you knew that you were going to be okay. With or without Tom, you were going to get back on track and you weren’t going to let him stop your friendship with Sam just because of a break-up.

“I’m stuffed” You laughed as you split the check for lunch with the Holland family. Harry let out a groan of agreement as Nikki and Dom tried to persuade you to let them pay for your meal.

“Really, I can pay. You guys don’t have to pay for me when we go out anymore” You stated, your tone soft but firm and you saw Nikki’s face drop. The reality of the break up was back in her mind.

She’d loved you. You were always a daughter to her, and she really thought that one day you’d be her daughter-in-law.

“I want to” She replied, equally as firm as she squeezed your hand, pressing a kiss to Paddy’s forehead and walking over to the counter. 

Sam gave you a grin from beside you and by the time his mother had come back, it was time to pile into the minivan and head to Paddy’s game.

“He’s got this” You muttered to Nikki as she sat beside you, passing her camera to Harry for photos.

“I don’t trust those punks on the other team. Broke poor Toby’s ankle last year, you remember how distraught Paddy was for his friend? Disgusting. Should be banned” The woman grumbled causing you to giggle as the kids poured out onto the field.

You were always the calm one at these games. It was always you. But not today.

You decided to stand up and cheer.

Sam’s eyes were wide and Dom watched in amusement.

“You’ve got this, Paddy!” You shouted as the game began, Nikki grinning and standing up with you.

It didn’t feel like it used to. It felt better, you felt at ease and happy.

Harry was laughing to himself as he recorded the two of you screaming encouragement at his brother, not thinking twice before posting it on his Instagram story.

Nikki was laughing loudly and holding you close to her, almost like she was scared that you would slip away from her and her family again. But you wouldn't. Nothing could make you leave them.

Tom was whining as Harrison drove carefully through the crowded parking lot at the football field.

“Just get out, you div. Walk over there while I find a park” Haz grumbled, eyes squinted as he tried to find a small spot for his car.

“Good idea. Good luck!” Tom called to his best friend as he rushed out of the small Prius, slamming the door behind him.

It felt weird being back in London so soon after his break up. He’d pretty much left the day after he’d called it quits with you due to filming. It felt abnormal.

The brit weaved his way through the crowds, looking for a glance of his family, but his eyes landed on you. Cheering next to his mom whilst his family laughed along.

Tom felt like he couldn't breathe.

Seeing you again was like a kick to the gut.

You were with his family.

Not that he forbid them from seeing you, but he thought that you’d all go your own ways considering he broke up with you. 

It really was because of the distance. It sucked. He’d let some things that he didn’t mean slip out, too, and then you cried and broke down whilst he wheeled his suitcase out the front door, not looking back.

Before he even knew what he was doing, his feet were carrying him towards his family.

Harry was the first to spot him.

“Look at what the cat dragged in!” He laughed as he pulled his older brother into a hug. Tom laughed along with him before hugging Sam and his dad.

His mom had her hands over her mouth in shock. She hadn’t expected him to be home for another three months. You, on the other hand, were trying not to frown at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

Nikki glanced at you before pulling her eldest son into a hug and turning back to the game, screaming tactics at her son and his teammates.

“Hi, love” Tom greeted you softly, his eyes drinking you in. 

He didn’t think that you could have changed much but he was wrong. 

You looked stronger. You oozed capability.

“Tom.” You nod back before shrieking as Paddy scored a goal.

“GOOD JOB, PADDY!” you screamed causing Tom to jump a little.

Paddy had won. Everyone was ecstatic, except for Paddy. You’d all gone for celebratory ice cream and Paddy was quiet the whole time.

“Why are you back?” Paddy asked Tom suddenly, the whole group falling silent. Tom frowned, seeing the grumpy appearance his little brother was maintaining.

“I wanted to see your game, Pads, what do you mean?” He questioned feeling slightly dejected as Paddy frowned at his reply.

“It took me two months to see Y/N/N and get her to come to the game. I don’t want her to go away because you’re here” Paddy replied bluntly, looking between his brother and you.

You narrowed your eyes at the child lovingly, shaking your head.

“Padster, I would’ve come anyway. I’m really happy to be here, but your brother came all this way for you and I think he’s feeling a little left out. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon but Tom is. Catch up with him while you can” You told the kid, and he listened. 

Tom looked at you in awe as his brother finally warmed up to him again.

God, he missed you.

“But I don’t want you to go again” Paddy mumbled causing your heart to shatter again.

“Hey now. I’m here right now, okay? And that’s what counts. Don’t blame your brother. Breakups are a two-way street” You console, pressing a kiss to Paddy’s forehead before motioning to Tom.

“Now go and hug him”.

The whole table was back in their bustle of a conversation, Paddy and Tom getting along marvellously and you and Sam cackling about Harry’s blurry photos from using the wrong lens.

“So you guys are still close, huh?” Tom asked you eventually. You glanced at him with a grimace on your face.

“No. I haven’t seen them in a few months. I’m only here for today”

Tom grinned and you already knew what he was thinking.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for Paddy”.

You glanced around the table, looking at the faces that were permanently ingrained in your memory. It was time for you to go and let them be, you thought to yourself. You leant across the table to Nikki, a small smile playing at your lips.

“I think I’m going to head out now” You inform her, trying not to linger on the way that her smile turned sad.

“Are you sure? You could always crash at our house, sweetheart. You always have a home with us” The mother of four offered, trying not to sound desperate. You shook your head, playing with your fingers.

“No thank you, I think I’m going to call it a night” You whisper back before pushing your chair back, gaining the attention of all of the family at your table.

You cleared your throat and smiled awkwardly,

“I’m going to head home now. It was nice seeing you all again” You address the table, a sad smile on your lips as Paddy rushes over to you.

“Do you have to? We can make Tom go? Will you stay then?”

“Pads, you can’t boot your brother out” You laugh lightly, pulling him into a hug and smoothing his hair down.

“I’ll see you guys around eventually, yeah?” You mutter, pressing a quick kiss to the youngest Holland’s temple bone. 

One by one, the family stands up and hugs you before sitting down once again. Tom doesn’t know what to do with himself as he says goodbye.

“I’ll see you around, Tom”.

The young adult watched as you walked out of the parlour, his eyes following you until you were out of sight.

Nikki looked at him with a frown, shaking her head at her oldest son.

“Why did you have to let her go again? It hurts every time, Tom. Every godforsaken time” The woman sniffled, leaning her head on Sam’s shoulder and grabbing napkins to dab at her tears.

Tom looked at his mother, jaw slack and completely flabbergasted at his family’s drop in mood. They were all less lively than they had been only moments ago.

“I didn’t- she wanted to leave. I’m confused.” Tom admitted, his eyebrows furrowing as his mother continued to sniffle.

“I haven’t seen her since you left her, Thomas. I loved that girl like she was my own. She would walk in the other direction if she saw us in public. Can’t even look at us, Tom. I thought that one day we’d be sitting in a church watching you marry her and now all I have is a photo of her from Christmas last year and the birthday present she got me. Today was the first time we’ve seen her since everything happened and I saw the way you looked at her as soon as you saw her with us. I thought that maybe- just maybe you would stop her, talk to her- something! Anything! But you didn't and it’s like I just lost a child all over again.” Nikki ranted, shaking her head and standing up from the table, brushing off her husband’s attempt to comfort her by grabbing her hand.

“I’m glad you’re home, darling, but I wish that it was different.”

And with that, Nikki paid for their ice creams and told Dom that she’d see them all at home, leaving Tom and the rest of their family in silence.