#cannot for the life of me figure out what that green pillow was supposed to be

[arolegos]

ending the year w a redraw . ... ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

old art jumpscare

closeups on lloyd bc i (Only) like how they came out 😭

[windvexer]

Hi there Chicken!

Do you have a good fast cash spell?

In my specific paradigm a good fast cash spell has got to have Fire and Earth.

It's got to have Fire if you want it to be fast. Fire goes very quickly, you see.

It's got to have Earth if you want it to be physical, material, tangible. Earth brings substance. If you wanted like, a good business idea for making money later on, try Air instead.

A candle will serve for adding your Fire. It may be of any color, but a color you associate with money or wealth is best.

Plant allies serve very well for adding in Earth. In my experience, Chamomile and Basil work excellently as a team for the purpose of drawing in a good amount of money and being able to hold onto it.

If you like, conceptualize Chamomile as being gold coins, and Basil as being a big green sack you carry it around in like that billionaire duck.

Most ideally work on a Sunday or Wednesday (although any day will do just fine).

If you like, anoint the candle with a little oil (any oil is fine) either from top to bottom (drawing down into your life) for a taper candle, or clockwise (generation; sun-wise) for a tea light or jar candle. This is optional and mostly functions to telegraph your intent to the magic, which is a great eldritch beast eager to play along but desperate to be let in on the rules of the game you're inventing as it watches.

Light the candle.

Now communication is key. You do not need to be able to hear anything back (but mind any gut instincts of the nope variety). But you're a squishy human that communicates in strange squeaks and clicks, and to the world of magic you're as about as predictable as a kitten with the zoomies. The spirits need to know exactly what's going on here, like a bunch of concerned apartment dwellers trying to figure out exactly what you're getting out of eating plastic. So do your best to explain yourself.

The candle is lit, yes? So let's carry on.

Indicate to the Chamomile and Basil what the hell they're supposed to do, as they can do many things and have no way of knowing that you're after money in this particular instance. Communicate with them plainly (or if this is not Fancy enough, write up little rhymes to chant over them - I suspect plants like having their own odes very much and they are a great icebreaker when working with new allies).

Anyway, clearly indicate to the herbs and candle in whatever way you desire (thinking loudly, speaking, signing, and so forth) that the three of them (Chamomile, Basil, and Candle-Flame) are to work together as a little team to get you some fast cash.

Communicate something like, "Candle-Flame, you eat so fast - your life is a thousand little explosions every second. I need that kind of verve. You give your energy to Chamomile and Basil, and elevate them with eagle wings of flame, so they may soar with speed to do my bidding."

And then something like, "Chamomile, your face is like a gold coin on a satin pillow. You are a money sprite, and bringing wealth gives you great joy. So do me this solid: take the power that Candle-Flame gives you, and go find me at least $X amount of money. And if you cannot get me $X amount of money, get me at least $Y amount of money. And if you can't get me $Y amount of money, send me some sign to help me know why this could not be done for me. And in all things work with Basil."

And then furthermore say something like, "Basil, your blossoms are like spears and your leaves are like shields, and your roots know all the secrets of treasure and wealth within the earth. You are a soldier of fortune, so I will hire you now: Make good space in my life for $X amount of money. Sew a hidden pocket into the fabric of my life so money may be left there without getting lost or stolen away. Prepare the way for Chamomile, so when she returns with my money, she can easily give it to me. Adorn yourself with a cloak of flame from Candle-Flame, and drink its fire to warm you up, so that all of this may be done well and fast."

Okay, so then get your little offering (a shot of whiskey will do, or some bread, or I don't know, and offering).

And say, "Candle-Flame, Chamomile, and Basil, thank you to the three of you for hearing my request. In exchange for this work I give you this offering, to make you strong while you work for me, and for your enjoyment. But if you have already decided not to work for me due to some unintended slight between us, take this offering as a gift so in the future we may meet as friends."

Now at this point you'll likely want to seal up the spell in some way or another, like with a good ol' Picardian make it so or maybe a nice amen or so mote it be or whatever you like. Or maybe you like to tie things up by visualizing everything "getting to work" or whatever.

Take up the herbs and put them in a little container (it should not be airtight; the spirits must be able to come and go), perhaps a small fabric bag or a dish. Put the herb container right next to the offering and the candle.

Let the candle burn all the way down. Do not remove the offerings until the candle is burned down (remember, Candle-Flame should be able to enjoy them too). So it's better to use a smaller candle. Leave the offering overnight or longer if you can.

Later, go back to the offering and clean it up in your usual method.

Regardless how the spell manifests, it's polite to give another small offering to the spirits as thanks for coming through. This is just good business; you want to be known as someone who strikes a generous bargain and treats their helpers well.

When manifestation is achieved or all hope of manifestation is lost, dispose of the herbal remains in whatever way you like. The candle stub may be disposed of immediately after burning down, or wait and dispose of it with the herbs.

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

[yelenasdog]

the pillowtalk of a pessimist (spencer reid x fem reader)

genre: fluff with a millisecond of angst

summary: pillowtalk takes an interesting turn for spencer at the mention of the harsh realities of his work.

words: 1.3k, she’s a shorty.

warnings: nsfw themes (nothing smutty, it’s just implied and also directly stated that they slept together), typical criminal minds violence + death, and maybe cursing? idk. 

a/n: btw this isn’t the fic i was ranting on about that i’m writing, she’s still in the works. also! this could be an x oc or anybody bc i didn’t use y/n if you would prefer to read it as such.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

A pale stream of moonlight shone through the open window of apartment 23, the home of Doctor Spencer Reid. It illuminated a small section of his bedroom, specifically on one of his many floor to ceiling bookshelves, a beacon of knowledge that was there 24/7 for the taking.

The gold engravings on the spines of his many reads shimmered, a beautiful contrast to the dark mahogany the shelf was made out of.

The room smelled like a mixture of his cologne, her perfume (Chanel no. 5, specifically), and the results of their previous affairs that lingered in the crisp air of the night.

She took a deep breath, settling down further into the white duvet, pulling it over her bosom in response to the chilly temperature. The dark green walls of the room welcomed and calmed her, overwhelming the girl with a wave of serenity that could only be brought to her by him.

He quickly took note of her unsteady breathing and shift in position, immediately jumping to action. He pulled her closer by her shoulders with his strong arms, eliciting a squeal from her and a chuckle from him, more so at her reaction than the move itself.

Her head laid on his bare chest, her hair splayed out with half of it residing on his pillow, the other half on his bicep. She could have appeared to be an angel, although in his eyes, she truly was.

She rested her hand on the left side of his chest over his heart, her fingernail ghosting shapes on his tanned skin. Circles, squiggly lines, even abstract faces.

“How do you do it?”

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. If his hearing wasn’t so acute, he was sure he would have missed it. This would have saddened the genius greatly, as he valued everything she had to say with a burning ferocity, and even one word lost would be a shame.

“What?”

He was confused by the nature of the question, attempting to search every corner of his brilliant brain for what she might have been referencing. Was it an equation? No, she hated math. Perhaps the way he so effortlessly could play any instrument because yet again, math. He decided that couldn’t be the subject at question either, she played better than he did, glorious melodies flowed from her fingertips. So the doctor was truly stumped.

The answer was simpler than he had imagined.

“Your job.”

With those doe eyes he was so fond of, she looked up, meeting his own glance.

If the term “heart eyes” was able to be personified, Spencer would be the guy to personify it whenever his eyes landed on the one in front of him.

“What do you mean? I get up in the morning, drink some coffee, and get to it.”

She giggled, but the sound he loved so much ceased with her pout.

“That’s not what I mean, Spence. How do you go on everyday, seeing body after body,” she trailed off, obviously distraught. Spencer wrapped his large hand tighter around her, placing his chin on her hairline.

“How do you consistently manage to look at these victims, these people, with lives that they never got to finish living-“ A tear slipped down her cheek, she bit her bottom lip, tasting her own salty droplets on her tongue. She sniffled, burying her head further in his neck with what he presumed was shame.

“And not break down when you do.” Her voice was muffled, but the emotions she felt were evident nonetheless.

He took a moment to carefully articulate an appropriate response. The gears in his mind turned ever so diligently, finding a solution to dry her tears.

“It’s not much different than what I initially said. I get up in the morning, drink some coffee.”

He pushed a hair away from her face, admiring her distinct features as he often did. She looked up, moving her left hand to trace his sharp jaw as he sat in thought.

“And I realize that these people that are now dead, are a part of the hundreds, of throusands, of millions of people that die every year. It’s a part of life, what gives it meaning.”

She gave a dry, humourless laugh.

“What, you don’t have a specific statistic for that?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t think you want to hear it.” He tilted his head, weighing the option of disclosing the information but deciding against it.

“But the bottom line is, they have families. Families that are grieving, and hurting, and needing answers and justice. I cannot do my job and give them the closure they deserve if I’m staying focused on my own emotions and delving deep into who the victims were, rather than how to catch those responsible for hurting them.”

She moved on to her back, stilling managing to keep her eye contact with Spencer.

“But you’re a profiler! That’s what you do! You’re supposed to, what did you call it, ‘delve deep’ into who they are.”

“Pretty girl, are you trying to tell the one with 3 doctorates how to do his job?”

She rolled her eyes, lazily throwing a hand on his neck, right behind his ear. She ran it back and forth, savoring the intimate moment.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Agent.” She taunted, poorly trying (and failing) to agitate Spencer. She had a hunch (that was more true than either of them would let on) that it wasn’t possible for her to do so, and he found himself proving it to be correct.

“I just had to learn to let the family do what they had to do so that I could do the same.”

The girl’s tone softened as she spoke, staring at the popcorn ceiling.

“I guess so. I’m just too empathetic, my heart is too pure.” She joked, a feathery laugh falling past both of their lips.

“Of course. I would expect nothing less.” He teased back, enjoying the dynamic they both held in the tender moment.

“You amaze me.” She muttered, leaning in, analyzing him and his ruffled post-sex hair, his gorgeously long lashes, and his light 5 o’clock shadow that donned his chin.

He huffed quietly, doing the exact same thing, minus the scruff of course.

“I could say the same to you, pretty girl.”

Their lips connected once again, in a different manner than the feverish and needy kiss from before.

This time, it was a union of two individuals, allowing themselves to mould together in a way only the two of them could. It was slower and sweeter, with more feeling poured into their lips while they moved in sync.

“M’ tired.”

“Yeah? You wanna go to sleep, bubs?”

She grinned as she snuggled into his arms, her exhausted eyes fluttering to a close.

“Bubs, huh? That’s new.”

A worried frown made its way onto his face as he rushed to cover up his previous words.

“D-do you not like it? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-“

“Spence.”

He stopped, looking over her for any microexpressions, only seeing positive signs. That wasn’t technically profiling, right? He hoped he would be in the clear if she ever was to find out.

“I love it, baby. Say it again.”

“Bubs?”

“Mhm. Say it again.” She sounded with content. He smirked, a proud feeling infiltrating his body, causing him to puff up his chest in the slightest way.

“Goodnight, bubs.”

He reached up, his paranoia forcing him to close the window above him, despite being a more than qualified FBI agent with a revolver safely tucked away in the top drawer of his night stand that never quite was shut all the way.

It was just the pessimist in him.

She wrapped around his figure, intertwining his form with her own.

“Sleep well, Spence.”

He felt happy with her, happier than he had been in a long time. He relished in that, allowing it to lull him to a well needed rest.

But what could he say, she just brought out the optimist in him.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

hj posting at a time that isn’t 3 am?????? unheard of. also i may or may not have pulled an all nighter to write whatever tf this is bc my ex posted something with his new gf and i felt pathetic LMAO. anyway, i hope your day is fabulous, go drink some water and remember things are what you make of them and it’s all about intent! love you, xx hj.

[chillwithaster]

SUMMARY: “Wo ho ho there, Kaedehara, where do you think you’re going?” Venti and Xiao moved to grip each of his wrists. If Kazuha had not known any better, he would think they were shackles by how deathly their holds were.

Venti gave him a light smile. As if he’s going to let this bleach-streaked, toothpaste-hogger fiend anywhere close to his date to the-

“Your date?” Xiao started.

Whoops, did he say that out loud?

RELATIONSHIPS : Albedo/Kong | Aether (Genshin Impact) || Kong | Aether/Xiao | Alatus (Genshin Impact || Kong | Aether/Venti (Genshin Impact) || Kaedehara Kazuha/Kong | Aether

Please consider supporting me on Ko-fi because im kind of in a need for extra cash to help out my family during the pandemic ! every little bit helps and I'm giving out incentives for donations ! A dollar for a personalized reviewer and study guide or a genshin fanfiction of your choice !

AO3

“Well, this is most unfortunate.”

Venti could already feel the caffeine in his systems fuel his flight-or-fight response as he saw not one but two of his roommates standing outside the library.

He really needed a drink and pronto.

This was supposed to be his shining moment; the ballad to end all ballads; the righteous bard’s claim to a golden prince’s heart after their loveless rendezvous.

Venti had finally gotten the courage to ask Aether out to the Ludi Harpastum Dance – one of the most anticipated events in the entirety of their university. It was known as a Mondstadtian custom that he himself absolutely adored for its flowers, games, cuisines, and especially romantic atmosphere.

It was going to be perfect, really.

But no, Barbatos above and mighty, these – unsultry fiends decided to rain over such a wonderful parade.

“Agreed.” He shot a half-hearted glare at the white-haired male next to him, who had decided to dress-up from his usual plain tees and jeans.

Instead, Kazuha was wearing a half-buttoned black blazer (one that Venti swore was his, mind you) with black skinny jeans and a white polo-shirt. His hair was tied tighter than his usual lopsided ponytail, and Venti swore the other’s glasses had never been cleaner.

Now, though Venti was quite ecstatic to see his friend out of his usual horrendous fashion-style, he was visibly irked by the bouquet of Carnations in Kazuha’s arms.

“Move. You’re blocking the entrance.” The other two broke from their staring contest to find slitted amber hues.

For as long as Venti knew Xiao, even the Contemporary Music major knew his roommate looked good in a turtleneck.

And unfortunately for him, Xiao knew that too.  

Sporting a sleeveless dark green turtleneck and a black leather jacket fastened firmly around his waist, Xiao glared from behind the brown, large toy dragon plushie he was hugging.

“Uh excuse me.” Venti chirped, a hand to his hip to assert his dominance as their senior. “I was here first, mind you. Now buzz off.”

Xiao cocked a brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re bringing in food to a library.”

The braided boy gawked at him before guiltily looking down at the two boxes of doughnuts in his hands. Boxed in pastel green and white, his warm, delicious, better than what his other roommates could ever bake in their entire life, homemade desserts stared back in shame at the thought of being left behind.

“Of course not!”

Kazuha and Xiao did not believe him.

“Of course…” The Inazuman began before moving past Venti. “Now please excuse me, I need to speak with-“

“Wo ho ho there, Kaedehara, where do you think you’re going?” Venti and Xiao moved to grip each of his wrists. If Kazuha had not known any better, he would think they were shackles by how deathly their holds were.

Venti gave him a light smile. As if he’s going to let this bleach-streaked, toothpaste-hogger fiend anywhere close to his date to the-

“Your date?” Xiao started.

Whoops, did he say that out loud?

Venti turned to his supposed ally as he released Kazuha’s hand. However, despite his fumble, the Cheshire grin on his lips still slashed through. “Yeah. My date to the Ludi Harpastum Dance.”

If looks could kill, Venti would be six feet under.

“Isn’t it quite bold of you to assume he’d want … you?” Kazuha began, scanning him up and down.

“I am offended!” Damn, the senior could feel ten years being subtracted from his time on earth. “And yes I do! Unlike both of you, I’ve known Aether the longest. From all the way ever since he moved here, so that makes me his best friend.”

The other two were not convinced.

“Yeah. Friend.” Venti wanted to hurl something hard into Xiao’s smirk. “And aren’t you more mature than that? For such an old man, you’d think you’d be past using the length of a relationship to measure its worth.”

“I agree with Xiao.” Kazuha hissed from behind, and Venti almost held a high grin at knowing why he was so defensive. Kazuha only had a month in his little pool of Aether interactions, so he knew he stood no chance if that was the criterion. “One’s closeness mustn’t be measured by how much – but rather how well – that time spent together was.”

Venti rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever.”

Honestly, he had not expected this. Especially not from these two.

Venti had always assumed that Xiao wanted nothing to do with relationships, especially since Xiao had made it quite crystal clear to anyone that had tried making moves on him that he was not interested. Same goes for Kazuha, who seemed to be more inclined to pour his focus into his studies in Literature rather than pursuing a love life.

But alas, here they are.

“Excuse me.” The three snap out of their heated staring contest to find a mop of kempt blond hair behind them.

Albedo stared at the three suspicious figures with a raised brow. As the junior librarian of the campus, it was his job to make sure students were not loitering outside to cause a mess.

“You’re keeping others from entering. If you have no business here, could you please go back to your dormitories.” His eyes shift to the pastries in Venti’s arms. “No food inside.”

Venti could just hear the snickers from behind him.

“Right, of course.” He started. “Sorry, Albedo.”

The three would have moved to allow the blond entrance had Kazuha not seen the striking figure painted diligently on the canvas in Albedo’s arm.

“Wait.” The albino held a hand to Albedo’s shoulder. “That painting…”

The bright crimson on Albedo’s cheeks was already a dead giveaway.

Venti and Xiao stopped in horror before peering over Albedo’s shoulder. Ah shit.

Drawn with the precision only the famed Kreideprinz could attain was a figure basked in golden locks. The figure’s face was turned away ever so slightly from the viewer, framed by light bangs as soft eyes gazed longingly into the sunset behind them. But even without seeing any other details, the two already knew who this was.

Suddenly, a plushie and a batch of doughnuts just felt sad.

Albedo turned to face the trio, shamefully hiding the portrait behind his figure.

“You like Aether?” Venti began.

“Yes, and what of it?” Albedo brought his jacket’s sleeve to his mouth, covering the bright blush he was harboring. “I don’t believe that I have any reason to be quite ashamed of such…and for you to be so scrutinizing…”

The three stared at him like kicked puppies.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Albedo stopped and looked at the gifts in their hands.

“Ah.”

The weight of the situation just immediately dawned on the four.

“It seems the captor of ours hearts knows no restraint.” Kazuha sighed wistfully.

Xiao said nothing, but a nod was sufficient.

“…Are you all here to also ask him to the dance?” Albedo leaned on the door.

Even without an answer, he already knew.

“We can’t just go in there.” Xiao sighed. “It’ll end in a disaster, trust me.”

“But we cannot just let such an opportunity pass.” Venti saw how Kazuha was almost ready to barge in the doors for himself.

“Right, right, calm down there, he’s not going anywhere.” Venti offered.

Albedo moved to turn around, and the three watched him peer through the library’s wooden doors.

There seated amongst several stacks of books was their culprit. Aether had a textbook over his head and a whale pillow under his folded arms. With how slow his chest was rising, the four knew he was asleep.

“I should scold him next time. The library is not his bedroom.” Albedo smiled fondly at the figure, and the other three could only stare in defeat.

There was no way they could just barge in there and disturb his peace like that. Especially not when he looks so exhausted. Aether would just be overwhelmed by all their invitations, and the last thing they wanted was to be a burden to their beloved.

“So, now what?” Venti moved out of the way, glancing in confusion at the other three.

Kazuha and Xiao shared a look, but it was Albedo that first opened his mouth.

“We should take him to a date. A proper one. One from each of us. And one where we could help him alleviate his stress and show him a good time.”

The three stopped in consideration.

Albedo continued. “Think about it. He’s quite exhausted. If our feelings for him are genuine, then we should be willing to console him when he needs us the most. And only then – perhaps -  he can decide who he wishes to take to the dance.”

Venti had wished his first date with Aether were under different circumstances.

But at the same time…he isn’t against the thought of spoiling Aether silly. Even if it is shared sentimentally with three other people.

After a moment, it was Kazuha that gave an opinion. “But we should set ground rules. If the purpose of this date to help Aether unwind, it is imperative that none of us ask him to the dance.”

“Why?” Xiao crossed his arms. “Then wouldn’t that just render our dates pointless?”

“Not quite.” Kazuha offered a smile. “Aether’s happiness should come first.”

Xiao agreed in a heartbeat.

“Okay, let’s go with that.” Venti smiled at the prospect.

Yeah, Aether’s happiness is the topmost priority. And if none of them could provide that for Aether, then Venti thinks that none of them (himself included) are worthy of Aether’s kindness!

“But…” His thoughts blank. “Can I go last?”

“Why?” Albedo raised a brow.

“My paycheck doesn’t come until next Thursday.”

If his peers had one thing in common, it was how stupid they could make someone feel just by staring.

“I had to cut back time for my classes, okay? Sheesh!” Venti argued.

“Then that’s settled.” Albedo sighed.

“May I go first?” Kazuha offered, and though none of the other males seemed to object, Xiao was quick to reply with a sharp ‘why’. The albino bashfully chuckled. “There is a musical I have been meaning to bring him to that is in three days. It would be a shame to miss it.”

There were no objections.

Albedo raised an open palm, only to be met with several blank stares.

“A form of contract. May the best man win.”

The blonds lips were quirked upward slightly, and though apprehensive, Venti shook his hand.

Venti wasn’t the smartest person, but he wasn’t dumb either.

He may not know a lot when it comes to studies, but he knows one thing.

When these three wanted something, they would break the earth just to get their way.

“Indeed! May the winds guide you in your endeavor.”

But it also takes one to know one.

[hanaasbananas]

Aftermath

Set immediately after let's get covered in flames and play some games with the smoke

AO3

She doesn’t move for hours.

Head resting on Adrien’s chest, she feels his blood seep into her hair, feels his body go slack, the arm around her shoulders loosening and falling away, feels him go cold beneath her fingertips.

Still, she does not get up.

Thunder rumbles above them, lightning flashing in the distance as the sky darkens, clouds growing heavy with rain before releasing a torrential downpour, soaking her in seconds.

And still, she does not get up.

But as the rain pounds down, Marinette lets herself cry once more, the storm hiding her tears and drowning out her screams.

***

A hand lands on her shoulder, squeezing gently when she flinches. “Sweetheart…”

Papa.

Of course. She’d dropped her transformation in the middle of an akuma battle. Of course he would have found out. Everyone must have found out.

She can’t bring herself to care.

“I can’t let go,” Marinette speaks for the first time in what feels like eternity, her throat hoarse from crying.

“You must,” Papa’s voice is gentle. “the cure, you need to cast it, set things to rights.”

Set things to rights. She almost laughs. As if anything could ever be right again.

“It won’t bring him back.”

A pause. “No, it won’t.”

“Then what's the point?”

***

Marinette doesn’t remember casting the cure.

She doesn’t remember being pulled to her feet and being carried to the car, or arriving home, where maman waits for her.

“Oh,” she breathes when she sees her, rushing forward and folding her into her arms. Marinette’s arms remain rigid by her side, but her legs crumple beneath her, and maman follows her to the ground,

Marinette doesn’t come back to herself until she’s in the bathtub, letting maman wash her clean.

“He was my soulmate,” she whispers, watching as the blood—Adrien’s blood— is sluiced from her skin. Maman inhales sharply beside her, pausing with the washcloth still in her hand. “He should have let it hit me.” Looking up, she meets mamans stricken gaze with her own.

“Why didn’t he let it hit me?”

***

The funeral is on a Friday.

Marinette sits at the back of the church, her face scrubbed clean, covered with a veil so that she won’t be recognised.

Félix gives her only the barest nod in acknowledgement. He doesn’t try to speak to her, and for that, she is glad.

After the burial, when the mourners have gone and the cemetery sits empty, she makes her way to his grave, sitting cross legged beside it.

“You know,” she says “I always knew we wouldn’t have a happy ending. Call me a pessimist but even so…” she swallows, reaching out to trace the words on his headstone. “I never imagined it would end like this.”

***

Time passes. Seasons change, autumn giving way to winter, melting into spring.

Her grief does not fade.

It is not a pretty thing, this grief of hers. It is not simple or elegant or something that she can hide. It is guttural and ugly, clinging to her, crawling over her skin and seeping deep into her bones.

She lies awake, night after night, tears soaking her pillow like summer rain. On some nights, when the pain is too much to bear, a heavy stone crushing her beneath its weight, Marinette wishes that she could simply reach into her chest and rip the beating heart out from within, feel it pulsing in her hand, blood dripping from her fingers and coating her arm. She wishes that she could take a knife and slice away the parts of her heart that ache and grieve for Adrien until the pain is gone.

She imagines that if she did, there would be nothing left of her heart at all.

***

A letter arrives for her on Adrien’s birthday.

There is no return address, and she doesn’t recognise the handwriting on the envelope. She does recognise the ring that falls out of it though.

Adrien’s ring. His miraculous.

Fingers closing around the ring, Marinette feels it cutting into her palm as she reads the enclosed note.

Father believes that you have this. I figured I may as well make that the truth.

Félix

She has both now.

The ladybug and the black cat. Heart beating rapidly in her chest, Marinette looks down at the ring, her mind racing at all the possibilities, the power she now holds.

She could do it. Make the wish. Bring him back.

But what would the cost be?

If it was her life, she would gladly give it. Even if she was granted only a few short moments to see him again.

But Marinette has wielded her own miraculous long enough to know that magic is a fickle thing, unpredictable and unconstrained by the laws of man.

No. The risk is too great; she cannot do it.

Legs bucking underneath her, Marinette sinks to the ground, clutching Adrien’s ring in her hand, and she weeps, her heart breaking anew.

***

Marinette isn’t sure what possesses her to go back to the apartment.

Masochism, she supposes. Maybe, it is because already, she struggles to recall the exact shade of Adrien’s eyes, the texture of his hair between her fingertips.

Whatever the reason, she stands now, in the doorway, surveying the place, a lump forming in her throat. Everything is as they left it. Her shawl is draped over the back of the couch; one of Adriens ties lies crumpled on the living room table beside an empty mug and a newspaper. If not for the fine layer of dust covering every surface she’d think they’d been here only hours before.

Moving carefully so as not to disturb anything, Marinette steps inside gingerly, wincing as the door slams shut behind her.

The apartment is thick with ghosts of the past, memories of all that they did here. She can almost hear their laughter, hear the music they’d dance to; can almost see the two of them pushing the sofa and table to the edges of the room to make space for dancing.

Sitting down heavily on the sofa, she surveys the room once more. Memories are important, she knows. God knows, she’s held onto them as tightly as she can, cherishing every new recollection, as though it is the most precious treasure.

But everytime she remembers something new, everytime she sifts through her memories, going over their time together like a film reel, Marinette wishes that Adrien would come to her instead.

***

“Marinette,” the whisper comes late at night, rousing her from a restless sleep. It’s not unusual to hear his voice—she’s dreamt of that smooth cadence a thousand times before, over and over, but always—absolutely without fail—the illusion falls silent, dissipating the second that she opens her eyes, leaving her cold and alone.

This time however, feels strange. Different.

Lying motionless, Marinette hardly dares to breathe, hands trembling at her sides as she strains her ears in the silence, hoping, praying for his voice to come again.

It isn’t real, she knows, but she craves it nonetheless.

“Marinette,” his breath ghosts over her skin, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. “This is real.” His voice is laced with amusement “open your eyes.”

“No,” she says stubbornly. And then, more plaintively: “I don’t want you to disappear.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Hands, smooth and strong, reach to touch her. They stroke her face gently, reassuringly, turning her face to the side. Cold lips brush against her closed eyelids and she shudders, exhaling shakily.

Maybe it is real. Maybe...

Opening her eyes, Marinette blinks in the darkness, a small gasp escaping her lips at the sight in front of her.

For a long moment, she can do nothing but gaze at him, drinking in his features. He’s still beautiful; as beautiful as she remembered. Regarding her steadily, the entrancing depth of his dark, luminous green eyes and the ethereal glow of his hair in the moonlight filtering through her window makes sets her heart racing.

He says nothing, simply smiles at her and her breathing quickens. Oh, his smile! How she had missed his smile; it was like the sun. It warmed her like nothing else. Looking at him, it feels like she is finally seeing in colour again—shades of gold, yellow, and green all blooming before her.

Sitting up on her knees, tears spill from her eyes as he reaches out to cup a hand against her cheek. She covers her hand over his, pressing it harder against her cheek until she feels a dull pain from the pressure-a welcome pain, telling her that he is here, that she can feel his touch once more.

“Hello, doll.”

Something in her breaks—a dam bursting in her chest at the endearment.

Her sobs are violent, and Adrien pulls her towards him, into his arms, but she resists, refusing to let him out of her sight for even one second. Despite the fact that fat, hot tears are blurring her vision, she keeps her eyes locked on his, as if he might disappear forever as soon as she blinks.

Still smiling, Adrien runs his hand along her shoulder, consoling her.

“You will be alright, my love.”

“I won-I won’t,” she blubbers “you do-you don’t understand, Adrien. I can’t do this. Not without you. I can’t.”

Sniffling as he wipes her tears away with his thumb, she leans into his touch, letting herself feel his warmth. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she says softly “to live without a heart.”

At this, he finally frowns. “But you do have a heart.”

Marinette shakes her head. “Not anymore. Not without you.”

“You still have me.” the low, calm timbre of his voice soothes her and she watches as he places a hand over her heart. “I live on, in here. You’ll carry me with you always, Marinette.”

Sliding his hand to the back of her neck, he pulls her towards him, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead; his lips lingering for a moment in an all too familiar gesture.

In his face, she sees tenderness in every line, something kind and warm in his expression. There is an insurmountable sorrow too, the edges of his lips curling in a sad smile, and she knows what he is going to say to her, knows now why he has visited her this night.

“But you have to let me go.”

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 1-3

There were so many things Regulus wanted to do as child that his parents wouldn’t allow, but Leo is adamant that it is never too late to do those things. They make a list of ten things Regulus wants to do before he decides what his next step in life was going to be, because he refuses to grow up before he even got a chance to be young. 

Disclaimer: Of course you don’t have to have do any of things to have a happy and fulfilled childhood, but Regulus didn’t not get to do them because he had other interests or because he didn’t have the means (and usually, if that is the case, parents will ensure their child have other fun memories). It was a case of having controlling parents, who thought the only important things were school and hockey and there was no reason to have fun outside of those things. He watched his friends having experiences and he didn’t get choose in whether he wanted to participate or not. 

CW: mentions of toxic parenting and frequent mentions of food.

Please message me if you feel anything needs to be added to the content warnings.

Rating:T 

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

P.S. I was getting increasingly inebriated as I wrote this and I haven’t read it over so sorry for any errors. I will probably edit tomorrow!

“What do you mean you’ve never had a sleepover?” Leo exclaimed, tea sloshing over the side of his mug with the force that he set it down on the table. “Not even with your cousins?”

“Not even with our cousins,” Regulus shrugged. “Maybe when I was really small? Mother and Father weren’t keen on letting us out of their sight much.” 

“Yeah, that's fucked up,” Leo said resolutely. Sometimes he forgot how lucky he was to have his parents, and conversations with Regulus often made him want to call and tell them how much he loved them. 

“I’m starting to recognise that now,” Regulus hummed quietly, giving Leo a shy look. “Guess I should be grateful to Uncle Alphard for the trust fund. At least I’ll be able to pay for the lifetime of therapy I’m going to require.”

“You and Sirius should milk the media by doing increasingly ridiculous interviews for exorbitant fees,” Leo laughed, looking around the kitchen. “Do you have any cookies in this house?”

“Merde, your stomach is bottomless. We just had lunch!” Regulus rolled his eyes, but waved in the direction of one of the cupboards. 

“I’m a growing boy,” Leo defended, pushing his chair back to source the cookies. “Besides, I’m going to need the energy if we’re going to plan your ‘Regulus had a sucky childhood and this must be rectified list’,” he said, his words muffled due to the fact his head was half-way into the cupboard as he rummaged around for a worthy snack. Moments later, Leo emerged with a triumphant smile and his fingers clasped around a packet of Nutter Butter cookies.

“First of all, what the fuck?” Regulus scoffed, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Secondly, really?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“Admittedly, the name is a work in progress,” Leo sat back down, schooling his features into something he hoped looked indignant. “And, I have a brand to maintain,” he continued, biting into the cookie with an overly loud crunch. 

And that was how Leo and Regulus ended up spending an entire afternoon curating the perfect list of things Regulus wanted to experience before he decided his next step in life. 

1) Have a sleepover! Build a fort, play video games, eat all the snacks, stay up all night and have a pillow fight! 

“Babe, sleepovers are supposed to be fun, not meticulously planned military operations,” Finn teased, peering over Leo’s shoulder to look at the schedule on the laptop screen. 

“There is a lot of enjoyment to be found in structure!” Leo argued, tilting his head back to pout at Finn. “I don’t want to forget anything. I just want Reg to have a good time,” he sighed.

“Sweetheart it’s gonna be fine,” Finn reassured, pecking a kiss on Leo’s lips. “You’ve got pizza, you’ve got Mario Kart, you’ve got -” Finn leaned forward to squint at the screen, “building a blanket fort. Hey, I wanna come to this sleepover! You’re gonna have a great time.” 

Leo smiled up at Finn, his boyfriend had a seemingly infinite ability to make him feel better. 

***

 “Bye! Have fun!” Finn yelled.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Logan added, and then the door slammed. 

Leo reached out to grab his cell off the coffee table before wriggling excitedly in his seat, “Okay! Let the sleepover begin. What pizza do you want?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but his reply betrayed his enthusiasm, “I’ll have an extra large half and half please. One side with ham and pineapple and the other with pepperoni, green peppers, grilled onions, black olives, mushrooms, sausage and extra mozzarella. Oh, and a side of wedges, please.”

Leo spluttered, “Reg!”

“Hey, don’t judge. Your order will be just as big,” Regulus frowned.

“Please,” Leo scoffed. “I live with Finn and Logan. You could order five pizzas and I wouldn’t be phased. No, I am scandalised by your topping choices. Pineapple!” Leo gesticulated his arms widely, “I thought you were better than that. I am seriously re-considering this friendship.” 

“Wow, you really are picking up on Finn’s dramatics,” Regulus laughed.

Leo huffed as he tapped at his phone, “Pineapple on pizza is a very serious matter, thank you very much. Since this is your sleepover, I have ordered the abomination. Consider this a one time pass.” 

“I am honoured.” Regulus drawled, playing up the posh notes of his accents. 

“So you should be,” Leo said, grabbing the cushion from behind him and throwing it at Regulus. 

“Oh, that’s how you want to play it.” Regulus smirked, grasping the cushion that had been thrown at him, as well as the one stuffed behind him. 

“Noooooo!” Leo shrieked. “Pillow fights are not on the plan until -” his words interrupted by a cushion hitting him square in the face. “- 9pm.”

“Oh dear, we can’t mess with your painstakingly designed plan.” Regulus teased, leaning forward to pick up the printed schedule that Leo had shown him earlier. “I believe we are at, 19.30 - play Mario Kart whilst waiting for pizza.”

***

“So, did you boys have fun?” Sirius asked,  as he placed a cup of coffee in front of Regulus, and then Leo. He sounded exactly like Leo’s mother and it was creeping him out. 

“Why are you here?” Regulus grumbled, resting his head against his arms. He titled it to the side and cracked one eye open. 

“Thank you for the coffee, Sirius. You’re the best big brother, Sirius,” Sirius did an uncanny imitation of Regulus’ voice. “We were in the neighbourhood and figured we’d pick you up instead of you getting a taxi back.”

Regulus made another noise that sounded somewhat like a thank you. 

“Did you guys sleep at all last night?” Remus laughed.

“A little bit,” Leo mumbled, staring into his coffee. He wanted it to magically make its way into his stomach without him having to make the effort of lifting it. 

“An hour maybe?” Regulus added. 

Logan snorted as he wandered into the kitchen, “We came in at 3am and they were fast asleep on the couch. We have photo evidence.” 

“And Leo was doing his “I’m having sweet dreams’ snore so I doubt they had only just fallen asleep,” Finn added, following behind Logan.

“I do not have a ‘I’m having sweet dreams’ snore,” Leo said, the tips of his cheeks turning pink. 

Regulus laughed, sitting up-right and swallowing a huge gulp of coffee. 

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you,” Logan began, pouring coffee beans into the espresso machine. “You were drooling.” 

2) Master that chore list! Learn to cook! It’s a bore, but you’ll thank me later.

“This is an excellent idea,” Remus said, “Perhaps now I will stop being woken up by the sound of the fire alarm.” 

“That was one time!” Regulus protested, shoving Remus in the shoulder. “Leave. I have lessons to learn.”

“Try not to burn the kitchen down!” Sirius sang, as he left the kitchen, his arms piled with snacks. 

“You cannot talk, Sirius Black,” Remus laughed. “And don’t you think that is a bit excessive. We’re going to order take-out in two hours anyway.”

***

“Regulus! Your hand,” Leo shouted when he saw the flames. 

“What?” Regulus asked, but then he looked down and saw the edge of the oven mitt he was wearing were alight. He must have had them too close to hob. Leo noticed the panic in eyes and grabbed the end of the mitt that wasn’t on fire and chucked it into the sink, turning the tap on to smother the flames. 

“Okay,” Leo said, “Maybe we should start with something easier. Let’s try the washing machine.”

Regulus whined, “The washing machine scares me.”

“How does the washing machine scare you?” Leo asked, trying his best to hold in the laugh. 

“It’s scary!” Regulus reiterated. “You put stuff in there and they come out tiny or pink or covered in tissue.”

Leo blinked multiple times, registering the words and then he couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer. “Well, those things should only happen if you do it wrong. Pro tip, number one, don’t put tissues in the washing machine,” he said once he had recovered. “Come on, I’ll show you. It’s really not that scary and I’ll teach you how to sort things properly but really I chuck stuff in together all the time and nothing ever turns pink.” 

***

“Regulus. Leo,” Remus called, leaning in the doorway to the lounge. Leo paused the movie they were watching before turning to look at him. “Is there a reason that all our bedding is pink?”

Leo and Regulus shared a sheepish look. 

“No idea, sorry,” Leo said.

“It was Leo’s fault! He said nothing ever turned pink,” Regulus blurted out, shoving his hand over his mouth as soon as the words left it. 

“Never take up a career in espionage,” Leo scoffed, throwing the skittle he conveniently had in his hand at Regulus. 

“And I suppose you had something to do with the glove in the kitchen sink?” Remus chuckled. 

“Oh fuck, I forgot about that,” Leo said, giving Remus his most charming smile. “I’ll buy a new pair.”

3) Go to your first concert, it’ll be a night to remember

Leo had managed to drag half the team into his mission to get tickets to see Fall Out Boy in a couple of months time. It was a band both he and Regulus loved, and Leo had always wanted to see them when he was younger but it never seemed to work out.  

Between them they had twelve laptops that they were constantly refreshing, waiting for the box office to open. 

“Yes! I’m in,” Thomas shouted, wiggling around in  a celebratory dance. “Waiting time is 27 minutes.” A few seconds later, James was chanting about his access. 

“No suh! My wait time is 35 minutes. How is that possible, I was only a few seconds behind Talker,” James griped. 

“It’s a cruel cruel game,” Ollie nodded solemnly. 

In the end, they did manage to get tickets for everybody that wanted them, even if Leo had lost the will to live by the time he had kicked everybody out of their apartment. 

***

Leo noticed that Regulus was sticking pretty close to him as they walked through the halls of the arena, a sign that he was nervous. “Hey, you doing okay?” Leo asked, bumping his shoulder against Regulus’.

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed. “It’s just...a lot,”  he gestured to the crowds of people around him. They had tried to get there early to ease Regulus into things, but between Talker and Noelle running later, and Finn having an absolute meltdown because he couldn’t find his old tour t-shirt, it was already starting to get quite busy. 

“We can always go if it gets too much,” Leo reassured, smiling softly at Regulus. 

“You just paid all that money for the tickets, we can’t just leave,” Regulus argued. 

Leo slung his arm around Regulus, hugging him close. “Your comfort is worth far more than the price of a concert ticket, Reggie.”

“Don’t call me that,” Regulus moaned, but Leo felt him sink into the hug. Their tranquil moment was ruined by Finn who decided it was the perfect moment to burst into a rendition of Dance, Dance, and James immediately joined in. 

***

“I’m sad,” Regulus sighed, wearing one of the t-shirts he had brought at the concert. He’d been deliberating over a few when Leo had told the cashier that they’d take one of all of them. Thankfully, Regulus had learnt that to argue with Leo when he was trying to show love was futile. “Why am I sad? I just had the best night.”

“Post concert blues,” Leo commiserated, sliding a plate of pancakes across the table to Regulus. 

Logan hummed his agreement, drowning his pancakes in maple syrup, “You’ve got to spend the whole day watching the videos you took. Try and get some of the endorphins back. But really, the only thing that cures it, is booking a new concert. You’re gonna be hooked forever.” 

“Is it also normal to still be able to hear the music?” Regulus said, rubbing at his left ear, before cutting into his pancake. 

“Sure, the music is loud,” Finn answered with a chortle.“ You two blasting music until 2am in the morning probably didn’t help. It’s a good job this apartment is soundproof.” 

“Sorry,” Regulus said, looking guilty, “Did we keep you up?” Leo didn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing he could recall was dancing around his bedroom screaming along to My songs know what you did in the dark, and then was waking up sprawled across Regulus.

“Don’t worry about,” Finn mumbled around a mouthful of food. “It was nice to see you letting go like that.”

“It would be nice if you could learn some table manners,” Logan chirped.

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

glimpses into a calmer universe

a gift for @luyous, because you once made some posts asking for indchu fics, and I started writing indchuran for the hell of it, but never finished until now. I think this could fit in the indchuran: bros for life AU but only after they get together, since there’s less pining than usual. Anyways, this is very overdue, but I hope you enjoy!

A little bit of domestic fluff. 3 glimpses into the indchuran universe through three different perspectives. Iran/Persia is Roshan, and they’re genderfluid.

Also on AO3!

———

The smell of food is wafting upstairs from the kitchen. It tempts Aditya sorely, and he tries to resist—he has a rather crushing workload to get through today—but five minutes later his feet are padding softly on the first floor landing, the tiles cool under his bare soles. He stops in the doorway, idly tracing the spots of afternoon sunshine dancing on the walls, and watches the figures of his two loves, side by side in the kitchen. Yao is standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, and Roshan is at his side in front of the sink, busy washing something Aditya cannot see. They are talking quietly above the sizzle of the wok and the sound of water gushing out of the faucet, a perfect picture of domesticity, all easy smiles, gentle touches, quiet jokes and careless laughter. An intimate synchronization of movement, like their hearts are beating in time. It strikes Aditya that his heart suddenly feels like it is overflowing, and he supposes he’s done enough watching from afar—for today, at least. 

Yao hears him coming first, and turns around as he enters the kitchen, but doesn’t say anything, just acknowledges him with a smile and a softening of the eyes, and begins to heap the stir-fried ants-on-a-branch—the vegetarian variation, with diced shiitake mushrooms instead of minced meat—onto a plate. When Roshan sees him, Aditya is treated to a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek that smells like roses before they turn back to washing the spinach, cilantro, and parsley—Aditya thinks they’re for the reshteh that recently appeared in the kitchen cupboard—in the sink. 

He offers to help with the washing, or the onions (even though they make him cry, which always makes Roshan and Yao laugh), but Roshan pushes him lightly out of the kitchen and Yao makes sure he doesn’t go back in. So Aditya is forced to sit at their small dining table, debating whether to finish his work or enjoy the afternoon sunshine streaming in from the glass back door. The work, he decides, isn’t worth it, and instead he goes back to watching Roshan and Yao work. He refuses to think he is admiring them. 

Nevertheless, it isn’t long before he’s too caught up in staring that he doesn’t notice Yao nudging Roshan and whispering “Aditya’s pining again”. But when Roshan catches him staring, they just smile cheekily, wink, and blow him a theatrical kiss that still makes Aditya’s throat catch and his heart stutter, even after a year of dating them. When they turn back to chopping herbs, the sunlight catches on their hair, coating it gold. Aditya is reminded of Roshan’s name, and Yao’s—and their meanings: light, shining. 

He does not think himself sentimental, but sometimes—many times—he wonders if they were fated to be. And he supposes it is not too cliche to admit to himself, privately, that his partners are the lights of his life.

———

Yao pauses at the entrance of the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market, still wondering whether it was wise to bring Aditya and Roshan along, and whether they will drag him to every place that sells anything vaguely shiny before leaving. But just as he thinks this, he makes the mistake—and it is definitely a mistake—of turning, and catches Aditya grinning at him, flashing an easygoing smile—a smile he’d do anything to keep, and he relents. But his regrets, or doubts, or whatever the vaguely self-preserving feeling in his chest is, must have shown on a slight frown or in an imperceptible sigh, because Roshan kisses his cheek and says,

“Come on Yao, we’ll handle ourselves. We won’t get distracted and we’ll be back at home in no time, exactly as you planned.” They wink at Aditya, which is never a good sign, but it’s still enough to wheedle him into agreeing, however fondly exasperated he is, and however certain he is that they will waste half the day away, as usual. He sighs again—the old man sigh, according to Roshan—but grumbles a “fine, but you need to pay me back in white rabbit”, and watches them veer off towards the artisan stalls, holding hands. Aditya’s hair glints brightly in the sun, and Roshan’s is dyed a rich, dark brown. Like two suns, hand in hand; one bright, the other warm.

Someone bumps into him, and Yao shakes himself out of his reverie. The grocery list is a mile long, and he doesn’t need to waste more time than is absolutely necessary, after all.

But finding all the things he needs to buy takes more time than he likes, and the walk to the Chinatown butcher’s to see whether they have halal live chicken— they don’t—takes even longer, so that it is almost noon (two whole hours, which he realizes with a pang) when he wanders back to the Ferry Building to find Aditya and Roshan in a small jewelry shop, excitedly inspecting a stand of earrings. He watches them for a second through the windows as Aditya holds a pair of dangling yellow lotus blossoms up to his ears and Roshan looks on admiringly. Yao is pretty sure he too is admiring Aditya—he looks truly beautiful, with the earrings and a modest smile and a bright twinkle in his polished obsidian eyes—but some part of him pulls him back into real time and reminds him that although it is a Saturday, he has no time to waste (stupid law firm), and he regretfully walks into the store to retrieve his partners. He thinks—no, he knows—it will be half an hour before he can pull them away from the (admittedly alluring) jewelry displays, but he supposes Aditya’s cheek kiss and Roshan’s cheerful gratitude will be worth it. Anyways, he can always bullshit case briefings and squeeze out extra time somewhere. He’d rather not rush this moment.

———

When Roshan finally trudges home after getting the week’s groceries, neither Yao nor Aditya are there to hold the door open for them, and there is no response when they call out an “I’m back” from the kitchen. They know Yao and Aditya are in the house—Yao’s Hello Kitty slippers are missing from the shoemat—so the only possibility is that they are ignoring Roshan. Sad. They sigh—rather theatrically—but heave everything into the refrigerator without calling a second time, and hope this will be a fair trade for them failing to find white rabbit in Chinatown for the third time in a row. 

Yao and Aditya, they find, are in the living room couch, engaged in another petty struggle over the remote. The newest Game of Thrones episode is playing on the TV Yao shipped from China, and Aditya is furiously muttering about “what a trashy white-produced rapefest show it is” and trying to swipe at the remote Yao grips with white-knuckled hands. Yao, for his part, has not retaliated much at all, besides scooting over to the other side of the couch and obstinately holding onto the precious remote. Roshan looks on for a time, amused, and watches Tywin Lannister’s face loom nastily over them all, until Aditya turns around and catches sight of them in the doorway. 

“Roshan, help me! You can’t possibly agree with Yao’s taste, can you?” Aditya looks thoroughly exasperated, and Roshan almost can’t believe how much his voice begs them to take a side. 

“No thanks. Aditya, you’ll have to fight the good fight by yourself; I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner.” They smirk, and decide that the way Aditya swells up with absolute fury is definitely worth whatever payback is coming. And as they walk back to the kitchen to start washing vegetables for dinner, there is a brief moment of silence as the TV switches off before everything descends into chaos. Yao's yelling now, and, by the sound of it, has started a pillow fight that Aditya joins in with enthusiasm. Roshan glances back, just in time to watch Yao whack Aditya with a flower patterned pillow and scream, 

"LET ME LOOK AT TYWIN LANNISTER AGAIN, ADITYA!" 

They are idiots, Roshan thinks with a smile, but they are their idiots.

———

Feedback is welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading :)

Notes

In the second scene, I just chose a notable farmer’s market in San Francisco at random hhhhh (apologies for any inaccuracies if anyone from CA is reading lol) the Ferry Building Farmers Market is pretty close to Chinatown, and although idk where they live in San Fran, Yao’s gotta get his white rabbit from somewhere right (the live chicken would be for chicken soup, but not the American kind)

Last scene inspired/taken from this ask! thank you bones, this was the fic I was talking about lol

the title was made up on the spot but I was thinking along the lines of “well this is a universe where the three of them are less of a group of bastards and also don’t have to contend as much with complex relations and just be lovers together”

In the first scene, there are two dishes I was referencing:

Ants-on-a-branch: 蚂蚁上树, whose proper name is ants climbing a tree, but I tweaked the translation a little. It’s a Sichuan dish that usually consists of vermicelli noodles cooked with minced meat (pork I believe) and a bunch of green onions and chopped peppers for spice (my parents also add stuff like wood ear, a fungus, and carrots and don’t add pepper but idk how “authentic” that is because we ain’t from Sichuan lol). For a lot of Chinese dishes you can usually substitute meat with shiitake mushrooms to make it vegetarian/vegan.

I tried to imply that the dish Roshan was planning to make is ash reshteh, a Persian dish of thick noodle soup with various herbs, onions, and peas. Kashk or yogurt whey is also a component of the soup and gives it its signature rich sour flavor. Because reshteh noodles are believed to bring good luck, ash reshteh is typically served around the Persian New Year, Nowruz, and at important events, but it can be theoretically be eaten at any time.

[quirkwriter]

When He Sees Me: IzuOcha

⚠️MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS. Precede with caution, you have been warned.⚠️

Uraraka nervously paced around her dorm room as the watchful eyes of Tsu and Mina followed her every move. Mina wished Uraraka would just relax. Going on a date with the vigilante “Green Knight” would not end in some catastrophe like Uraraka thought it would.

“Ochako-chan, you need to calm down, kero,” Tsu finally said from the end of Uraraka’s bed. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Uraraka flopped dramatically on her bed. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Tsu!” Uraraka sighed. “You guys wouldn’t understand.”

“You know we can’t understand until you tell us,” Mina said pointedly. “Now spill!”

“I stick with real things, usually facts and figures,” Uraraka sighed again, shifting her eyes to the floor. “When information’s in its place, I minimize the guessing game.”

Mina and Tsu exchanged glances. Mina had never taken Uraraka for someone so...logical. She supposed the past year and half has changed Uraraka, and so has her unlikely friendship with the vigilante who has been hunting down various members of the Paranormal Liberation Front.

“Well, guess what?” Uraraka didn’t give Mina or Tsu time to respond. “I don’t like guessing games, or when I feel things before I know the feeling.”

“I’m sure everything with be fine, Ochako,” Mina placed a hand on Uraraka’s shoulder. “Green Knight would be lucky to have someone like you. Unlike Midoriya.”

“Mina...” Tsu warned the pink-haired girl. Midoriya has always been a sore subject for everyone since he had abruptly left after the Battle of Jakku, especially Uraraka. No one knew why he just abandoned their class like that. It seemed as if only Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki and Bakugou knew the real reason.

“It’s fine,” Uraraka forced a smile on her face. “I’m over him. It’s been long enough.”

“So what’s got you all worked up about?” Mina pressed on, trying to goad her friend to keep talking. “You could end up going on a date with him! He said he’s gonna tell you who he is tonight!”

“How am I supposed to operate if I’m just tossed around by fate?” Uraraka stared up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers.

“Like on an unexpected date?” Mina had hearts in her eyes as she thought about Uraraka finally confessing her feelings to the Green Knight.

“What if he talks too fast?” Uraraka blurted out. “Or ask me questions about myself before I decided that? He might sit too close. Or call the waiter by his first name. Or eat Oreos but eat the cookie before the cream.”

Mina and Tsu exchange sympathetic glances. Clearly Uraraka was just making excuses because she was worried about something bigger.

Meanwhile...

Melissa laughed to herself as she watched the Green Knight nervously put on his costume. “Chill out, I’m sure she already likes you as the Green Knight. If she doesn’t like civilian you then she’s pretty shallow.”

“But she’s gonna recognize me when I take my mask off!” Izuku protested, face flushing furiously. “I just don’t know how she’s gonna react.”

“What are you scared of, Midoriya?” Melissa asked genuinely. “She’s just Uraraka. She was your best friend.”

“What I’m scared of?” Izuku chuckled nervously. “Well, what scares me the most is what if when she sees me, what if she doesn’t like it? What if she runs the other way and I can’t hide from it? What if when she knows it’s me, she’s only disappointed? What if I give myself away only to have it given back?”

Melissa patted his back sympathetically. “I couldn’t live with that.” Izuku mumbled dejectedly.

“You don’t know that’s how it’s gonna be, Midoriya,” Melissa said reassuringly. “You just gotta believe in yourself!”

“But I’m just fine in my shell-shaped mind,” Izuku persists, putting on his mask. “This way I get the best view. So that when she sees me, I want her to.”

“Midoriya, don’t you think that you’re being a little,” Melissa shook her head, not wanting to offend her friend. “I mean maybe just a tad, you know, defensive?”

“I’m not defensive!” Izuku squeaked out. He cleared his throat, turning to face the mirror. “I’m simply being cautious. I can’t risk reckless dating due to me miscalculating. I cannot be too careful when it comes to sharing my life.”

“Don’t you think that you’re being too careful?” Melissa stood between Izuku and the mirror. “You’re gonna make yourself miserable, Midoriya, with all this overthinking. Uraraka is your friend. She’s trustworthy. Plus you’re gonna defeat Shigaraki soon.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Izuku smiled shakily. “I guess it’s time for me to head to our meeting spot.”

“Good luck, Midoriya!” Melissa called after him.

Back to Uraraka

“Sorry girls,” Uraraka said, her face hardening. “But I don’t even know who he is behind the mask! But he could be a criminal, some kind of psychopath!”

Mina burst out laughing. “The Green Knight is probably the furthest thing from a psychopath! He beats all the other psychopaths up! Like he just knocks ‘em out with one punch! He’s totally not a bad guy!”

Tsu had a more pensive expression. “Well, technically he is a criminal, kero. Vigilantes aren’t exactly law abiding citizens, even with the decline of hero society.”

“He could be colorblind!” Uraraka was grasping at straw, trying to find a reason to not go confess her feelings to the Green Knight.

“How untrustworthy is that,” Mina said sarcastically. “Isn’t Iida colorblind? He’s, like, your best friend, right? Chillax, girl.”

“He could be way too mean,” Uraraka protested weakly.

“Like Bakugou, kero.”

Uraraka felt something stir within her chest. “Or even worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes, and make me laugh and come out of hiding.” An image of her long lost friend, Deku, flashed in her mind before she shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about him right now. “Oh, God, what do I do with that?” She shoved her face in her hands.

“Obviously kiss the guy!” Mina screamed, throwing a pillow at her stubborn friend. “Just fucking admit you love him, damn it! He probably likes you too! That’s why he wants to reveal his identity to you, you lucky bastard!”

“But what if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it?” Uraraka screamed into her pillow. She doesn’t want to get her heart broken again. “What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? What happens then?”

“Kis—” Mina started to say before Tsu covered her mouth.

“Let her finish, kero.”

“What if when he holds me, my heart is set in motion?” Uraraka stood up and continued pacing. “I’m not prepared for that.” She didn’t notice the stray tears that began to fall down her cheeks, the memory of Deku living with no explanation other than the fact that he had All Might’s quirk and he had to go fight Shigaraki.

“I’m scared of breaking open,” Uraraka cries as she leans against the wall. “But I still can’t help from hoping to find someone to talk to, who likes me the way I am. Someone who when he sees me, wants to again.”

“Go get your man,” Mina encouraged softly. “If he doesn’t like you, then all of Class 3A will fuck him up.”

Uraraka wiped a tear from her eye. “Thanks, Mina,” she said shakily. “I guess I’ll go see him.”

Uraraka floated to the rooftop of the abandoned warehouse she had been sneaking off to more and more frequently to see her unlikely friend, the Green Knight. He stood stoically on the ledge, diligently watching the city below him.

“Uraraka,” he said thickly. “It’s nice to see you.”

Uraraka smiled and nodded, shifting her feet nervously. “So...”

“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “I suppose you want to know who I am.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Uraraka said quickly. “I like who you are with or without the mask.” Realizing what she just said, Uraraka’s face heated up and she turned away.

“Uraraka-san,” he knelt down in front of her, a warm smile decorated his face behind the mask where she couldn’t see. “I’m ready to show you who I am when you are.”

“I’m ready,” Uraraka said determinedly.

He lifted off the mask.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Winter prompt fill 67 for sternclay? Doesn’t have to be a wedding I just love the 2nd half of this prompt. nsfw would be great

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

67. you were supposed to have a beautiful winter wedding but you were ditched during the vows and my idiot sibling/best friend just cracked a joke about how maybe I’d finally tell you how I feel about you and you h e a r d

“She’s not coming.” Joseph whispers over his shoulder. 

“Joe, for all we know she got hung up in a dress emergency or something?” Lily, the best woman and Joseph’s sister, squeezes his shoulder.

When the groom turns his blue eyes on Barclay, the groomsman does his best impression of someone who thinks things will be fine.

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“Her entire wedding party is here without her. And they look as confused as we do.”

Barclay spots a member of the event staff slip in a side door and hand a piece of paper to Indrid, their friend who’s acting as an usher. 

“I, ah, have some bad news.” The pale-haired man joins them at the front of the church, “it seems the bride has had a serious change of mind and will not be joining us.”

Joseph grabs the paper, reading it over as the bridal party crowds around him. The upshot of all the commotion, and the arguing that follows the commotion, is that the bride has indeed called off the wedding and is en route to an airport. 

As the family confirms she’s alright, Joseph picks up the microphone.

“Obviously this is a, um, unexpected turn of events. It’s safe to say no one is getting married today, but everything is still in order for the reception and we’re all dressed up so, um, if people want to stay and take advantage of that, you’re welcome to. You’re also welcome to leave if you want.”

Several groups break off towards the reception hall, and Barclay pulls Joseph aside. 

“Joe,  are you sure? I mean, yeah, we’re all here, but I don’t think anyone is gonna hold it against you if you want to send everyone home.”

“It’s important to be flexible.” Joseph replies blithely. Barclay knows his best friend hates when plans change and is unlikely to suddenly lose that piece of his personality at the same moment he lost his fiancee. 

“Besides, I’d hate for that menu you helped us pick out to go to waste.” There it is, the Joseph Stern Professional smile ™, a sign that Barclay’s hunch is right.

“Screw the menu, man, I’m worried about you.” Barclay sets a hand on either of his shoulders. Joseph’s gaze snaps all the way onto him, and he knows he is losing this argument. 

“It’s still my wedding, Barclay. That means I get to run it in whatever way I think best.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He steps back, brushes lint from his arm, “you go on ahead. I join you in a sec.”

Joseph nods, turning to stride though the room in his dark suit, while Barclay watches the love of his life walk away.

-------------------------------------

“Uh, hi, I’m Barclay. You must be Joseph?” Barclay stands in the door of the dorm room, his backpack in his arms. 

“Yes. Um, nice to meet you.” The other guy stands, black hair and well-fitting X-Files shirt making him look like Agent Mulder on his day off.

“I didn’t choose a side yet, it seemed fair to wait until we were both here. I’m partial to the left but that’s more habit than anything else.”

“I’m cool with that. I, uh, I don’t have a ton of stuff to unpack so, uh if you need help let me know.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiles, taking his face from cute to heart-stoppingly handsome, and Barclay decides he hit the roommate jackpot.

Barclay didn’t fall for Joe so much as cliffdive, throwing himself after the feeling he got whenever Joe laughed at a joke or told him a secret or talked for fifteen minutes about the methodology flaws in Ghost Hunters. Yes, Joe was hotter than convection oven and Barclay wanted to fuck him on the floor of every space they ever lived in, but more than that Barclay was so happy with him, and his friend felt the same way. 

The problem was, Barclay had a shy streak and was far from the only person to see Joe as a catch. And so they dated other people, sometimes happily and sometimes not, but never each other. By the time Joe met Iris, Barclay’s unrequited love had been thrumming in him so long it was no more than background noise. So when Joe ran proposal ideas by him, announced the weddings, asked Barclay to stand up with him, Barclay felt genuine happiness for him and the woman he loved. There’s no rule that says one cannot feel joy and knife-in-the-gut sorrow at the same time.

He’s only gotten better with age he thinks as Joe works the room, fielding condolences with ease. Barclay helped him choose the suit, black with blue lines in the stitching, because it flattered  but did not flaunt the well-maintained figure beneath. The last time Barclay saw him in just his underwear was when they lived together after college, and he fumbled his phone when he saw him at the beach last summer. He can picture it so clearly, what that body looks like under those clothes, and it makes him want to scream

“This whole day has been full of surprises.” Indrid sits down next to him, glass of soda in hand. 

“Kinda figured you and Duck would head home.”

“Most of  our friends are here, and the food looks good. Not to mention we’re both worried about-” Indrid nods towards Joseph.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I admire his holding it together but, like, what if Duck had left you at the altar?”

“I’d have turned into a hideous red-eyed monster and flapped screeching into the night.”

“......”

“That was a joke.” Indrid grins. 

“Right. Man, hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“While this is an upsetting situation, there is a bright side; maybe now you will finally tell Joseph how you feel.”

A crash makes them both turn in their seats; Joseph is wiping his dropped (plastic) cup up with a nearby napkin, well within earshot. 

“Indrid I swear if he heard-”

“Oh, I am certain he did.”

“Dude” Barclay hisses as Joseph steals an unreadable glance at him. 

“For goodness sake, you two are a good pair. A pair you’ve been dreaming about for years. Tell him.” With that the other man stands, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts. His thoughts are no help, so he joins Indrid, Duck, Aubrey, and Dani for some cake.

As the venue finally empties, he realizes he hasn’t seen Joe in an hour and panics until he finds him standing (swaying, really) in the staging room. 

“You, hic, know, hic, this explains, hic, why she didn’t want to move until hic, after the wedding.”

“Seems like it’s for the best, going home to a place where all her stuff is would fucking suck.” Barclay puts an arm around him only for the shorter man to slump most of his weight into his chest.

“The hotel’s paid for, and I have a week hic of vacation and a packed car.”

“You’re not driving anywhere. I can and will lock you in a closet if you try.”

“Or you could, hic, come with me.”

“On your honeymoon?” Thank god Joe is too drunk to notice his voice creeping up.

“On my it’s this or be miserable t home trip. Please, Barclay? We can hic, swing by your place to get your stuff.”

Barclay says yes. Purely to help a friend in need and not because of how said friend feels pressed up against him.

They’re an hour out of the city when Joseph fumbles with his phone, “Change of plans, were going here instead of the hotel?”

“I thought the whole point was the hotel was paid for?”

“It is, by her family, so fuck it. I’ve always wanted to go here and it’s the kind of place she’d never let us stay.”

They take the next exit and find the highway North rather than East. By the time they reach the massive pink building with an airplane in the field out front, snow is falling and Joe is half-asleep, mumbling “okay” when Barclay says he’ll go get them a room. The clerk welcomes him, shows him a list of available rooms, and he notices a high number of them have heart-shaped bed, “tubs for two,” and the word “fantasy” in the name. 

Just as he’s wondering what the fuck Joe’s gotten them into, he spots the perfect room at the bottom of the list. 

“Got a surprise for you.” He helps Joe from the car and unlocks the door. His friend takes in the silver and green decor, the posters, and the UFO-shaped bed. 

“This is the exact one I was hoping for.”

“I know, you giant nerd.”

“Be nice, big guy, or you’re sleeping on the couch.” Joe stumbles to the bed and starts stripping, at which point Barclay zips back outside to get their bags. By the time he’s back, Joe is under the covers and out cold. The king bed does look comfy…

Barclay sleeps on the couch. 

-------------------------------------------------

Joe remains dead to the world until almost noon the next day, so Barclay works on his cookbook edits and sends yet another thank-you email to Mama for letting him take his vacation with such little notice. He grabs breakfast, including a sandwich for when Joe wakes up and some aspirin to go with his coffee. 

“I hate myself.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Joe rolls over, dragging the pillow atop his head, “I didn’t mean to get so drunk, it’s just the only way I could get through all those conversations yesterday was to take a drink every time I felt like crumbling.”

Barclay sits on the bed, petting his head, “It’s okay, man, getting me to drive you to a weird sex hotel is not the worst thing you’ve done drunk.”

“I threw up in a mixer one time.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” He laughs when Joe whacks him with a pillow. In the silence that follows, he remembers Indrid’s comment, and wonders if Joe does too. 

“...Is this really a sex hotel? I just thought it was kitsch aimed at couples”

“Go look at the tub.”

Joe groans, stepping out of bed in just his--god help him--silk boxer briefs. They must have been under the suit. 

“Are these...they are, there are handcuffs hanging by the tub. Well, weird as that is, I’m taking a bath.”

The day goes in an oddly non-awkward direction after that. They’ve lived together often enough that getting dressed and clean in close quarters is nothing new. Joe votes for hiding from the world  bit longer, so they settle in on the very squishy bed and watch a silver plated T.V, Joe laughing whenever Barclay yells at cooking shows they way other people yell at football games. 

He still sleeps on the couch that night. 

The next day Joe is up bright and early, suggesting they drive to a nearby tourist trap, using his phone to pick out a breakfast place that serves Barclays favorite local coffee blend. They follow that same process the next two days; find some strange roadside attraction or nearby bookstore, eat, and return back to the motel to lay side by side on the bed and to read or watch T.V.

It’s as they’re wandering around a strange, knock-off Carhenge that Joe sighs, “I sort of saw it coming, you know? Iris leaving. I proposed because I cared about her, but she was the one who brought it up, and every time we were visiting her family or she got off the phone with them, she’d bring it up more forcefully. I think she was under more pressure to settle down than I grasped. If our places were switched, I might have run too. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to marry me.”

Barclay crunches to a stop in the snow “Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m exactly the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your family but not spend your life with. My job has weird hours and travel, my non-work clothes have cryptids on them, I can be too particular, and I’m not that exciting for someone whose job is special agent-”

“No, fuck that, you’re a catch.”

“You’re just used to me, big guy. Your objectivity is in question.”

“Yeah, well, you’re even more used to you, so I’m really the more objective one here.” 

“Maybe you’re right.” Joe stares at his footprints, then elbows the cook, “come on, lets go get lunch.”

Barclay is still full and happy, having warmed up via a soak in the tub (where he thought of four different ways to use the cuffs and then had to calm down his cock enough to get out), when he comes into the main room and finds Joe staring at his phone. 

“Oh shit, did she get in touch?”

“Yes. Iris, um, is on a cruise ship. As a yoga instructor. She says it’s something she’s dreamed of for years, that she’s sorry for hurting me, but that marrying me would have been a step in a life she did not want to lead. So. That’s that.” He puts the phone face down, cards his fingers through his hair, “Lord almighty I wish she’d just said no when I asked.”

“Me too.” Barclay imagines a different past, where Joe asked him instead, where he said yes because it’s what he’s been dreaming of since he was twenty-two. Where Joe is sitting in front of him, not sad-eyed and tired, but happy as can be. 

---------------------------------------------

This hangover is somehow worse than the one the morning after his non-wedding. Then again, he drank more in a shorter period, hoping to drown out the memory of the words on the screen. 

Or the words he overheard at the reception.

“Tell him how you really feel”

He’s had his suspicions about Barclay from time to time, most frequently when they were younger and he felt those deep brown eyes on his ass every time he turned around. But Barclay never took a chance; there were times after break-ups when Joe is certain anyone who was interested would have taken advantage of him being vulnerable and available, but instead Barclay cheered him up, the same way Joe did when Barclay’s relationships ended. Stern concluded neither of them wanted more. 

He would have taken more in an instant. His love for Barclay walked the line between romantic and platonic, and he would have crossed it the moment Barclay asked him to.

Now, he’s bathing with his eyes shut because any light is murder on his skull, his best friend waking up on the couch where he’s insisted on staying because clearly Joe’s lost his appeal. Who’d want to sleep with someone who got roaring drunk and needed babysitting?

He pops aspirin, drinks water, and lays down with his sleep mask over his eyes. Barclay moves around the room, talking softly in that gentle baritone that, not for the first time, makes Stern wonder what he sounds like when he cums. 

“You want me to run and grab breakfast?”

“No, I can get it for both of us. Lord knows you’ve done enough for me this week.”

“You gonna go downstairs blindfolded?”

“For you, I’ll risk a headache OW, owow.” His back locks up just as he tries to sit upright.

The bed sags, “Holy shit man, you’ve got a huge knot right here.”

“My back always does that when I’m stressed, it’ll be fine.”

“Nuhuh, lay down and let me see if I can get it out.” Barclay nudges him onto his stomach and he flops willingly, mask still on. 

“You don’t need to Ohhhhhhhhhnnn, I forget about those bakers hands.”

“Gonna knead you like dough, babe.”

Stern blushes at the name; he was always a little jealous when his friend called his boyfriends that. 

When thumbs pass below his shoulder-blades he moans, arches at the second of pain, “That’s it, that’s the epicenter.”

He can’t stop sighing as Barclay runs his hands over him, can’t stop wiggling his hips at every burst of relief. He pushes his ass up without meaning too, and a bitten-back whine reaches him. 

Fuck it. Even if he’s about to make a huge mistake, he wont have to look Barclay in the eyes.

“What did Indrid mean? At the reception.”

“Uh.” Barclay’s hands still, “uh. That I was worried about you.”

“Try again.” He grinds his ass back deliberately. 

“Joe, please, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here. You’re underneath me shirtless and I am not gonna do this a dumb way.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you that, that I, no nope, I’m gonna do this back home, at the Lodge or something, make you dinner first and be all romantic so that you don’t think I’m talking with my dick when I say I love you.”

Barclay’s whole body tenses. Joe flips onto his back, regrets the sudden movement, and lifts his sleep mask. He takes one of his frozen hands from the air.

“I love you too.”

“Really?” Barclay sounds like a teenager whose crush just said yes to prom.

“Really. And I don’t think it’s just your dick talking. Although if you wanted to bring it into the equation I wouldn’t mind.” He sends a pointed stare at the half-hard shape under worn denim.

Barclay’s breathing is picking up, his posture trapped between movements. 

“Do you, um, do you want to kiss?”

His friend drops down in reply, smashing their lips together and parting his own imploringly until Stern slips his tongue between them. His big hands cup Stern’s face and his hips grind like he thinks his parents will be home any minute. 

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Joe, ohgod, babe, please, please let me be good to you” the kisses on his face and neck are messy and the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt. 

“Barclay, you’ve always been good to me.”

“I meant this” he drags their dicks together, “kind of good.”

“Ohlord, yes okay, good point. Get your clothes off and bring me the purple bag that’s in my suitcase.”

Barclay grabs the bag, upends it and sends several sex toys, his strap-on underwear, and lots of condoms onto the bed, undresses as Stern sets one of the toys into the harness. 

“I need to put this back on.” He lowers the mask and hears a soft whine.

“I like seeing your eyes.”

“You’ll see them plenty, big guy, I promise. Now, open yourself up, please.”

“Oh hell yes.” A rip of foil, a pop of lube, and then Barclay straddles him, grunting delightfully. 

“Tell me when you get to three, that should be enough for this toy.”

Pre-cum drips just above the waistband of the underwear, and he gets a thrill remembering the few times he’d caught an accidental glimpse of Barclay’s dick. It’s big, that much he knows, and he’s going to have a lot of fun with it once he’s done reducing the man above him to tears. 

“T-three, babe.”

“Get my dick wet and then get to it.”

When he gets the gasp that tells him the toy is in, he smile and reaches to the underside of the base, “Remember that new dick I was excited about?”

“The vibrating one? OHFUCK, fuckyeahbabe” Barclay jerks and moans, his movements erratic even as he sinks all the way down. Stern echoes him, the pressure of the other man’s body makes the vibrations hit all the right spots. 

“Here’s how this is going to work, big guy; I’m going to get off while I fuck you, and if you can hold off on coming until I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“God yeah, Joe, fuck me, please.” 

He thrusts up and there’s a thud of Barclay’s hands hitting the headboard. The movement is rough on his stomach but he doesn’t care, grabs hold of thick thighs and fucks him, the other man working his hips in an attempt at rhythm.

The mask catches on a pillow, letting him see Barclay from the neck down. Lord, he looks good like this, big (Stern’s always loved how big he is), letting out the most appealing grunts and growls, dark hair covering most of his softly muscled body…

Wait a minute. 

He claps a hand over his mouth, laughing. 

“Whats, aAAhnnn, what’s so funny babe?”

“Remember when you found that Sasquatch dildo and bigfoot romance novel in my stuff?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I just discovered the source of the fantasy.”

“Are, are you saying I look like bigfoot when I fuck?” Barclay is shaking with laughter. 

“Kind of?”

“I’m putting that on a sign in my den.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late AHHhhnnnfuck, fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease say you’re close.”

“Why? In a hurry to fuck me?”

“After ten fucking years? Yes.”

He focuses on rubbing off on the toy, holding Barclay in place to keep it at the right angle, orgasm building sudden and swift when he works his hips just right and Barclay starts whimpering.

“Shit” he bites out as it ripples through him, aftershocks jerking his hips and making them both groan. 

Barclay climbs off and he wiggles the underwear off and kicks them off the bed. 

“Okay, big guy, now you can fuck meSHIT, lordalmighty you  feel good.”

“Fucking knew it would, knew you were fucking made for me Joe, fuck you’re incredible.” The hand that’s not balancing him on the mattress is shoving Sterns left out and up so he can drive deeper, shaking the walls on each thrust. Stern wonders if there’s a way recreate ten years of pent up desire so that Barclay will fuck him with this same furious affection every night of his life.

He’s limp post-orgasm, happy to let Barclay manhandle him to his hearts content. When the other man sits up, dragging his hips into his lap, he moans louder than he had in years. 

“That’s it babe, lemme hear how good it is, fuck, no one’s ever looked this good taking my dick, c’mon, take it all the way, take me all the way while I cum in you.”

“Ohlord.” his toes curl weakly as bucks into him faster and faster.

“Fucking years, years I’ve wanted cum in whatever hole you’d give me, now I’m gonna and you’re gonna feel it for weeks, fuck, babe, that’s it, ohhhnn Joe, Joe” there’s a final growl as Barclay holds his legs open, the last jolts of his orgasm making his fingers dig into his skin. 

As he’s coming down and pulling out, Stern slips off the mask, blinking at the sight before him. Barclay, flushed and slick with sweat, staring at him like he’s a prize he’d never thought he’d see.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He winces at how childish it sounds. A week ago he had a fiancee, for gods sake. 

“Yeah, hell yes, wait, Joe, you just got out of an engagement. You, you sure you don’t want some time alone or to, like, explore other options?”

Stern crawls over to him, beard scratching his palm when he turns his cheek, “Barclay, I’ve always been one step away from falling in love with you, and it turns out this was the step. I trust you, I get along better with you than anyone else, and apparently we work well in bed. If, um, if you don’t want this, if it’s too late, I understand. But if you want to be together, I want that too.”

Barclay blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s crying and Stern pulls him into the hug.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Joe, don’t apologize. I’m so fucking happy, I’ve wanted to hear this for so long it’s just” a shaky breath, “just didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I love you, Joseph, and nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend.”

They stay like that for awhile, talking in confessions and professions of feelings. Then Joe kisses him, and pulls him towards the bathroom to clean up (and maybe use those cuffs) before heading out to lunch.

----------------------------------------

Indrid opens the message on his phone, smiles, and texts four words in reply. 

I told you so

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira Vol 2 (3)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 3: Is This Jealousy

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: a teeny weenie bit of jealousy

Word count: my cousin is awesome. She is such a pure soul and I am so protective of her that I will beat the hell out of anyone who tries to hurt my little- but tall- baby.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The bubble of slumber has barely found Loki when a ripple of scream shreds every ounce of peace this house knows. The silence of the autumn suddenly sounds like a Hallow's Eve blood bath when Loki's body dashes towards the source of the voice. He does not even think for a second, his body already charging itself towards the stone-y path, his son outrunning him on his fours to come to a skidding halt at the foot of her bed. "Kira," he calls out with a contrasting tone compared to the rigorous beating of his heart.

But she does not hear. Her eyes are wide open, looking at the window in her room while her cries wear her lungs out. All she screeches are the words 'no' and 'stop' repeatedly while looking at the empty space. What disturbs Loki, even more, is that she is numb to the blood oozing out from where the needles were once sticking into her are ripping her skin apart. The duvet that covers her is being used as a shield against whatever she is afraid of while the blood smears the fabric with a new hue wherever it comes in touch with it. There is fear in his eyes for what he plans to do, but the fear of watching her writhing in pain like this far outranks it. And so he takes the first lunge by sitting down next to her and slowly taking her trembling hand into his. She yelps and jolts away from his cold touch. "It's me. Kira, look," he calls out to her while switching on the bed lamp close to him, "It's Loki." Her shivering figure cowering away from him takes its time to hear his voice while he patiently waits by the edge. He knows he has to let her come to him. Or he might lose her again. And it would already be one too many times. "Loki?" She has no idea what her frail voice does to that man's being. He can feel an electric current drive from his head to toe and all he can do is sit there nodding his head. "Yes, I'm here." That man has barely finished his sentence to breathe when he feels heated arms being thrown around his torso while her head wants to hide in his chest. "There's someone out there. There's someone out there, Loki." Silence. What is he supposed to feel right now? The otherwordly elation on the touch of her arms, whose heat seeps through the soft cotton and is absorbed by his thirst-ridden skin? Or should he feel sad for the suffering that does not seem to leave her even when she heals? In the swift moment, his rational brain scolds itself for having not having any intelligible actions ready like it usually does; for being useful during the one time it should be working at one hundred per cent capacity. "Please," a whimper comes from his chest, "make it stop." Like a flip of a switch in a cornered animal, Loki's pupils go wide while his arms come around her back with a life of their own. The cold palms hold the sweaty shirt on either side, making a barrier around her. "Come here," he whispers, pulling her closer to him, letting her rest her head in the dip of his shoulder while his body seeks all the unnecessary heat from her untethered figure. "Nothing can hurt you, I promise. Okay? No one can hurt you. I'm here." The wails dilute to sobs under the rhythmic soft pats of Loki's palm on her head in between soothing strokes through her hair. "I'm here." The sobs reduce to loud inhales and exhales, trying to find the resting point of her lungs. The patting continues into the dead of the night when unexpected rain showers wash away whatever bad lurks in the beautiful dark night outside, making her eyelids heavy and her body heavier on Loki's chest. Finding the strength inside him, Loki takes her head in his palm and carefully drags her down the bed to let her head rest on the pillow. The tightened nerves inside him relax when they hear her light snores, convincing him she is finally asleep. It is not easy to drag himself away from that angelic face resting so tranquilly but he puts his foot down on the floor- ready to let her rest- only to find a strong tug on his shirt by her fisted hand, pulling that loosely woven pure threadwork closer towards herself with wrinkles in between her brows. "Kira."  That man is now suddenly a little boy standing outside the study of his father, from where a mellow golden light flows out into a river at the end of which he stands with a unicorn in his tiny hands, his green eyes twinkling with the dance of both shadows and light as he tries to look inside through whatever space the barely open door allows him. Little Loki witnesses his father carry his brother in his arms, telling him stories of kings and princes that conquered lands and brought peace by defeating all evil; narrating his love for the golden boy and boasting to the air in that room how he will be the next man to take care of the empire that his father built for him. Outside, the raven-haired boy stands patiently before turning away to walk through the endless corridors to his room where the nanny is already waiting for him anxiously. "Loki! Where were you? Now is not the time to sneak out." The little one does not bother explaining for he goes straight to bed under his covers, his eyes towards the ceiling to look at the stars put up on there by the servants for his musings. "Mother says stars walk alone," Loki stated out of nowhere for the nanny to hear as she tucks him into the bed, "because they burn bright for everyone. She also says I am a star. A really bright one." "Of course you are," the woman smiles at him while wondering where this talk was coming from. "I don't think she knows that I know stars can burn whatever comes near to them. It is not even practical to be a star without dying a cold death." Margeret has to gasp. "Relax Margeret. It is the work of gases. You would not understand." And saying that, he turns to face the other way. "I don't want to be a star," he mumbles, wishing upon those bogus stars a wish that crumbles with every passing breath in his life till there remains no evidence of these ashes that were ultimately tagged as hollow hopes. Hopes that seem to be reborn without so much as a warning when Loki finds himself lying down next to her and she- without even a conscious effort- pulls herself upon his arm, burying her head in his chest, facing away from the world. A jolt of shiver runs through her body, immediately bringing Loki's arm over her shoulder, overworking his already imbalanced heart. But the calm finds him in her presence just as it finds her in his arms. The night outside, fresh out from nature's bath feels the need to notice its presence not acknowledged by the two souls that used to let their demons roam in her robe. Now, those very souls rest them in each other's arms, devoid of the exhaustion that once haunted them in their loneliness.

"Okay, I'm already putting this out there so no judgments are made later on...I just learned how to drive. You don't get to say how bad I am. If you are scared to sit next to me hold on to your seat. If the car stops in the middle of the road do not rush me, I know I am bad with shifting gears and the accelerator right now. Oh, and at no time will you offer to drive instead. Okay?" Loki's eyes take in your body on alert in the driver's seat of your dad's borrowed Suzuki. You adjust the rearview mirror and look at the controls, mumbling some things to yourself before double-checking the seat belt and starting the engine. He cannot help but stare at your elation with heart eyes when the car starts without any trouble. What churns up the lights inside him is that crazy giggling smile stuck on your face.  "I'm driving a car," you squeak at a really low volume while your neck disappears and your shoulders go up in tender excitement. By the Norns, who made her this cute, he truly has to wonder without realising a goofy smile has invited itself on his lips and has been sitting there even for Heimdall to see outside the gate when you exit. "That good a breakfast, huh?" He teases his boss, who is quick to hide any evidence of joy on his face. Sadly the master strategist and deceiver can't hide it from his eyes. "Did you get all the work done," Loki does not even move his brow when talking to the Watcher. "I had a nice breakfast too, thanks for asking," he is quick to acknowledge that cold stare, "and yes it's done. So, where are you guys headed?" You scoff, raising your hands from the steering wheel. "At least act surprised to see me driving even if you know it already." Heimdall chuckles. "I'm taking Loki to show around my town. Wanna c-" "Oh good, Lord!" Loki blurts out of nowhere, making you jump where you sit, "turn the car, Kira! There's a cat about to walk under it!" "What?" "Turn it out of the driveway!" "But-" "Let's go! Before it tries to climb the wheel!" You are hastily shifting the gear to drive. "They do that?" "Now! Now!"

This is his first time. And he still cannot believe it is happening. Well, shame on me for thinking only Odin had the finest colonial lands. Trees line up both sides of the roads that are cleaner than the supposedly progressive concrete jungle that you two left behind for a while. The patience all the drivers have on the road with their cars in a smooth drive is really impressing the man, besides putting him at ease considering his heart has taken the wheel. There are people out and about on the sidewalks. And there are people exploiting the cycling tracks to get their blood pumping in this cold weather. Kindergarten kids, school kids, college kids- there are clusters of them coming and going; some sad to leave their parents, while others are running and skipping towards theirs. This city is coloured in every hue imaginable even in the coldest of days. And unlike the iron world, he sits atop, this one seems like it takes out time to look around. The car is parked in a spot right outside a local city museum and unlike you, someone notices the line of expensive rides next to yours while their owners are huddled together over one with beer cans and cigarettes. Every one of the five men standing on the other corner wear brands that equal your one month's salary. "Let's start with this place," you bring Loki out of the calculating trance he is in since the second he laid eyes on the men that has been staring this way, "so we can get out and enjoy something much better if you get bored of this place." Loki smiles at you and makes it a point to walk towards your side to place his hand on your back, mellifluously ask, "shall we?" and walk away with you with the energy that marks the five feet around you as a zone not to be stepped in.

Well, it is hard to get bored of your face no matter how long he looks at it because he is certain he has memorised every little scar on it till he watches you fascinated by the medieval art displays. Your eyes have the deepest ocean of y/e/c ever seen that goes shallow for that black endless void that widens on seeing something that curates to its curiosity. Your lips. Damn those lips that have been blessed by the Gods themselves. They turn and pout in question, are tormented by the teeth when something does not sit right and are touch in a peculiar fashion by your fingers that Loki forgets he has to breathe at one point. He envies the fallen eyelash that sits on your cheek; envies that it gets to touch you and be prayed upon for a wish or desire while he stands to praise nature's work from a distance. But he does not let that bother him for he cannot recall any other time when he has been this content with his life.

"Point at anything in here and you will love it." "Really?" "Mm-hmm. They are really good at everything they make." "Oh...that's-wait. Is this the place that serves that pasta you keep comparing to everyone else's?" Your face is already breaking into the smile and Loki's heart cannot help but whisper 'stop' while running a marathon. "Yup." "Okay, so I'll have a-" "Kira?" Loki turns around before you to see who recognizes you and if it is a threat. "Henry?" The marathon comes to a pause for there is a little prick that is felt right in the chest. You recognise this man with a decent scruff, wide eyes and a bubbly smile. He has already been read head to toe by Loki. He does not seem like a threat. "Hey!" greets Henry before swooping you in his arms and giving one tight hug which leads to your alleged date to grind his teeth. How dare he. "How are you?" "I'm good. What about you?" You don't have to ask him that. He looks fine for someone who just got up from his sleep and drove here. "Fantastic now that we meet." Right. As if you were miserable before. "Where are you these days?! I've met CJ and Kat but never you." "She's with me," Loki declares. And that is when you notice the shift in the energy around you. "Henry, this is my boss, Loki. Loki, this is my school friend, Henry." You watch as Henry brings his hand forward for Loki. "Nice to meet you, man." Loki reciprocates but you can tell by that sharp cut of his jaw that something bothers him even though he isn't being vocal about it like he usually is. "Wait-" Henry's narrowed eyes are already telling Loki something he is tired of hearing- "Loki as in Loki the guy from Sun Corp. The Loki who went missing for two years before-" "So I heard from Kat you're opening a rest-" you try to divert the conversation. "Yes," Loki affirms much to your surprise, "that very Loki." And a smile. "Damn," Henry whispers. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. And you two are invited to my restaurant's soft launch today. Kat will give you the deets and you have to bring Loki." "Oh." You are a little dazed by the incomprehensible smoothness of this conversation. "Uhh..." You feel the brush of Loki's arm with yours when he closes the distance with the two of you. "We will be there," he concludes with his smiling eyes while you are wondering all the reasons you could be feeling this sudden gush of warmth in your cheeks. Nothing escapes Henry's eyes and that bubbly smile. You two have never been close which is why you are wondering why this guy is so excited to meet you. It hits you after a few seconds that the reason you were noticed might not have been because of you but your company. You are still thinking about it when you and Loki settle down in the corner seat looking out the bakery shop. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," you stress, reaching out for the bill in Loki's hand that he has already paid for. But that sly man is already pulling the receipt away from your grip. "I'll go if you go. And considering you are a textbook people-pleaser around your friends, you will be going tonight." All he reflects for your slightly unhinged and offended jaw is his smirk that has a tendency to stir something up inside your gut. "Correct me if I'm wrong." "I am not a textbook people plea-" "You went out to visit Kat even when your leg wasn't healed because she said you had not met her in a while." You scoff. "W-It was true! I hadn't met her in a while and I-" "And because CJ said she was mad at you because you hadn't answered her texts and calls." You do open your mouth to contradict but nothing comes out except a defeated sigh. "You could have told her about your health." Loki tilts his head and melting eyes that have their full attention on you. And you are feeling the goosebumps all over your body from that dedicated stare. Did he always look at me that way? The sensible voice in your head clears her throat and wonders...He could look that way to anyone. But your inner voice is already dancing. Look at the face, woman. Drown me in shallow waters if he isn't head over heels for you. "I...have used my health as an excuse for multiple occasions so I don't think it'll cut for them anymore." There is a slight crinkle in between his brows that does not seem to get as much attention as his tongue that darts out to wet his lips. Why is that even legal? Your inner voice is angry while it involuntarily purrs. "It is your health, Kira. I am pretty sure your friend will understand. Would you not rather that your friends tell you they are not fine instead of hearing about it when it all gets worse someday?" You turn your toes to internally curse yourself on realising he has a point; a very good one. "I'll talk to her," you agree and thank the waiter who brings you your lemon and mint iced tea and Loki's cold brew. "Okay," you sing with crackling judgment humming in your voice as your eyes are stuck on Loki's dark drink, "since when are you into coffee? I haven't been gone that long." "My existence will disagree," he mutters without so much of a thought as he lets his lips touch the straw in great anticipation while his eyes look up at the blank bump of an expression stuck on your face.  Heart thumping to the beats of embarrassment, your brain shuts down, pulls away the glass of cold brew and pushes your iced tea towards him. "Just have the tea, you monster." You try really hard to keep up that frown on your face while your insides want to come out and confirm the words he just said. "Me? A monster?" If you did not know any better, Loki would seem flabbergasted right this second. You narrow your eyes and let sarcasm drip just from your expression. "I have seen you murder your employees without even having to raise a weapon when you aren't in a good mood. Trust your assistant, Mr Loki, coffee is not your friend." "Are you sure?" He narrows his eyes at you and crinkles his nose. "Do you see anyone else being worried about you?" you direct at the surrounding with your hand. There is a tilt of his head and crossed arms come to rest on the table. "So, you are worried about me?" Your eyes pause any movement to stare into his for a moment so long he can feel his soul bare in front of you. "Someone has to..." He is left numb with that look on your face. "Because I am too tired to find another job." Numb from the heart attack he just had till he feels his senses coming back to let him wack in the back of his head and let him know how he got played. What is better than those microscopic jolts of relief he is feeling on your skin is your wide-toothed laughter then nearly pinches your eyes close. Whoever is watching him right now can without a strain of doubt point out at the man in love, looking at his life shine brighter than anyone in the room while he pauses all that he is doing- even breathing- to look at you like it is his first and last time doing so. Whoever is watching him is suddenly craving for a longing look like that; whoever is watching you envies what you can do to that beautiful man putting a good number of insecure humans to shame. "Oh my Gosh-" you suddenly break out of your laugh with a sudden realisation- "I almost forgot about him." Loki, the stoic-as-ever man- who is nearly bending over the table ready to dissolve- furrows his brows at the thought of you remembering someone other than him! "Who?" he asks with a surly taste in his mouth. "Fenrir! How is he?" "Oh." You are somewhat puzzled at that flawless face going from a simmering stare of potential judgment to an innocuous reflection of understanding. "He is as fine as he can be," he shrugs and scratches something on the nape of his neck, making your eyes dart at the bit of exposed skin under the maroon that is royally screwing up with your head with pictures you do not want to be imagining in public right now. "So, he is being a bitch," you summarise for him. He nods in agreement, bringing back his hand and leaving that exposed microscopic yards of his shoulder and neck to be devoured by your stare so hard even the devil would blush. And unbeknownst to you, the devil hath blushed multiple times. "I think he misses his roommate," Loki throws the statement nonchalantly, pulling your iced-tea back to him. "Aw," you squeak a little putting your face in your palms and glittering eyes, "I miss him too." "Then get back to work, Miss Kira," Loki's flat and stern tone softly plays on his tongue, "you have had more than enough of vacation time." "Excuse me?" "What." "I got my bones broken for my company." Loki shrugs and sips your tea. "I nearly died for mine. Big deal." "Wow," you exhale. "Fine. I need a raise." "Okay." "..." "What."

"Just like that?" "You nearly died for the company. The company wants to thank you for your unwavering loyalty." You don't really know what to say next. You never planned this far, thanks to your impulse. That is till the socialist in you finds a silver lining. "Cool," you tilt your head in your palms, "then you can cut my salary for a few more vacation days." Concluding it with a wink. And Loki feels his insides sigh. Never in a million years could he have imagined a soft face like hers would hold the ultimate power to melt his insides like this.

Nature watches again. Through the windows and winds that enter at the opening and closing of the door. Two souls more than just content in their hearts to be in the presence of the unexplainable they thought they lacked. That little boy inside Loki is sitting at that table looking at you with all the innocence and love he can feel in his little heart; all that he wants to give to you. Little Loki knows who the star is and what it is like to be in its presence. And he would not have it any other way. The bakery plays a lofi mix of Just Want To Be The One You Love as these two closeted lovers bickered and enjoyed their much deserved time together, never knowing the company far away clicking pictures of their private time together before disappearing into the crowds and cars on the road outside.

[heistmaster69]

pariet lilium (3)

pariet lilium by @heistmaster69 chapter 3

I cannot believe all the love this is getting! also, let me know I anything is confusing because I do not have beta readers, and my brain gets a Lil scrambly sometimes but ily all-mwah!

tw: self loathing and jealousy. too much pining that’s just ignored on both ends. overuse of italics. BLOOD FROM AN INJURY AT THE END.

chapter 1  /  chapter 2 / chapter 4

~

After what had happened, Draco and Frankie couldn’t sleep, so they sat in a plush nook lined with green pillows and velvet blankets in the Common room, lit by the silver moonlight. Frankie laid her head in his lap as they spoke.

“In there,” Draco began. “You said you had been studying this for years. What exactly?”

“You remember Kendra?” She began.

“She was your tutor, right? Hired by-”

“Don’t say their names, please.” She interrupted, gripping his forearm

“Your parents?” His eyes widened. “May I ask why?”

“They were crap parents” Frankie paused. “They don’t deserve it.” She said with a chuckle. “Anyway, Kendra taught me about spell creating when I was about six, and I still think it’s the coolest thing in the world.”

“You wanted to reverse the Killing Curse.”

“All three. Plus the Memory Charm.”

“Wow.” Draco began running his fingers through Frankie’s hair, fiddling with the dark strands. “You think it’s possible?” 

“I know it is. I figured it out this year. I just don’t know how to actualize the spell just yet.” 

“You are amazing, Chess.” He whispered. 

“I know.” She giggled. Realizing the position they was in, Frankie felt her face get hot. She cleared her throat and sat up. “So, Malfoy. Call me crazy, but I’ve seen how you look at Cher. How’s that going?” It hurt to ask, but Frankie saw how he looked at her. She knew.

“What do you mean?” Draco scoffed. She could see his walls slam back up in an instant. 

“Malfoy. Come on. You like her!” Frankie lightly punched his arm.

“Psh. No.” 

“Malfoy...”

“No!” He snapped. “I don’t like her, Chess, c’mon.”

“Wow, sorry.” She sighed. “But you have been awfully chipper recently. Haven’t seen you bothering perfect Granger in weeks.”

“You really hate her, don’t you.”

“I wouldn’t say hate, exactly. Just a strong dislike. She just has to be so perfect all the time and she gets all the credit when Cher and I are above her in classes.” Frankie cleared her throat before continuing. “You are too! Like, she’s smart and all, but it just bothers me how pretty and perfect she is. All while friends with Wonder Boy Potter. She got hot last summer and now everyone is drooling over her. Blaise even is! It’s just frustrating how someone can be so much better than you in almost every way.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Granger.” He rolled his eyes.

“Dr-Malfoy. You’ve seen her. How could I not be?”

“Shut up. You’re fishing for compliments.” He shoved her shoulder.

“Okay, no? Telling the truth is not fishing for compliments. I swear if I didn’t hate her so much I’d be in love with her.” They shared a laugh a laugh before Draco said;

“You shouldn’t be jealous-”

“Okay I’m gonna stop you right there.” Frankie tutted. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

He tipped his head, a confused look in his gray eyes.

“I-nothing.” She scrambled out of the nook, dying to escape from what she knew would be an interrogation. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

“You’re not getting away that easy.” He spun her around, placing both hands on her shoulders.

She quickly maneuvered out of his grasp. “Don’t make me say it.” She whispered, unable to meet his gaze. “Please.”

“But why? I’d never judge you, you’re my best friend. And I tell you all my secrets, I told you the time I got a boner from-” Frankie interrupted just rambling with a laugh. She tried to lighten up the atmosphere with a joke;

“We don’t need to hear the boner story again. And fine. I’ll tell you if you promise not to be weird about it.”

“There’s nothing to be weird about.” Oh, Draco.

“Okay.” Frankie took a few steps away. A smirk growing on her face. “Just kidding!” She sprinted towards the dorms, giggling.

“Hey!” He chuckled quietly to himself, watching her as she went away. “Good night, Chess.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. ohmygodohmygod.

She had almost said it. She had almost told him.

I like it too much when you tell me I’m beautiful.

I like you too much.

~

The students shuffled along the stone path towards Hagrid’s Hut. The sun was high in the sky, yet the air had a chill regardless. Trelawney had spouted off some random omen that Wonder Boy was in danger, but honestly, when is he not?

Draco always had to pull something. His stupid dementor jokes on Harry, albeit funny, were a little mean. She had to stifle her laughs.

Merlin, that smirk. It would raise hell one day. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as he challenged Harry. When did he get so attractive? The way he sauntered up to Harry with that stupid grin on his face made her heartbeat quicken. She had to look away.

The forest was beautiful. Frankie couldn’t help herself from just staring at the way the sun shone through the treetops, gorgeous golden rays illuminating her freckled face

“Everyone gather round the fence here. That’s right. Make sure you can see.” Hagrid shouted, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The group of students shuffled around the paddock. “Now, first thing you’ll want to do is open yer’ books.”

“How?” Draco sneered while Crabbe and Goyle laughed. They laugh at everything he says, those goons. They can be sweet when they’re on their own, though. Goyle can make a mean chocolate chip cookie.

“Aye?” Hagrid grunted.

“How do we open our books.” Malfoy drawled, a firm scowl in his face.

How can this boy constantly pull 180s? Doesn’t he get tired?

“Hasn’t anyone been able to open their books?” Hagrid asked nervously. “You’ve got to stroke ‘em!”

A few students let out an Oh, but Frankie just sighed. “Oh how silly we’ve all been. We should’ve stroked them.” Draco scoffed.

How were they supposed to know? One thing caught her eye. Draco Malfoy took out two of his fingers, adorned with his family ring, and slowly stroked the spine of his Monster Book Of Monsters. Now that was a sight to see. Hagrid mumbles something to Granger that Frankie couldn’t hear, but Draco did.

“Oh tremendously funny. Really witty giving us books that try and rip our hands off.” Draco said.

“Shut up Malfoy.” Wonder Boy Potter here to save the day.

“He does have a point, though. Sorry Hagrid, the book went straight for my throat when I tried to read it. Malfoy here might’ve saved my life.”

“I thought you were better than that, Reed. You can shut your arse up too.” Potter glared at Frankie, making her shrink behind Draco.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Draco

“Whatever, just keep you and your girlfriend’s noses out of my buisnees.” Girlfriend.

“She’s not-”

“He’s not-”

They looked at each other with flushed faces. Hagrid went to fetch the magical creatures, leaving an uncomfortably hostile tone around the students.

“God this place is going to the dogs.” Draco laughed. “That oaf teaching classes. My father will have a fit when he hears about this.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry reiterated.

“Careful, Potter, there’s a dementor behind you!” Lavender shouted. Normally, Frankie wouldn’t have joined in. But Perfect Granger was looking at her like she was scum. So Frankie pulled up her hood like the rest of them, echoing a chorus of ooohs.

Hagrid came jogging in with two beautiful beasts on a sort of leash, their silver and bronze feathers glowing in the sun.

“Hippogriffs.” Frankie said, admiring them and remembering Kendra’s lesson on magical creatures.

“That there’s right, Miss Reed! Beautiful aren’t they. These here are Hippogriffs. This one is Storm.” He gestured to the bronze feathered creature. “And this one’s Buckbeak.” Hagrid began telling the class a few facts about them, she didn’t even realize that the rest of the class had taken a few steps back. Hagrid called everyone to come closer, but no one really did, except for Harry’s trio and Frankie. She already knew what to do, so she began the slow process, starting with a low bow. Storm wasn’t paying attention at first, so Frankie whispered a small incantation she used to get stray cats to trust her.

“Scio et observare.” The copper colored hippogriff began a slow trot towards her. Frankie made sure to keep her gaze fixed on the ground. When Storm was a mere two feet away, Hagrid turned his gaze from the class to Frankie.

“Wow! You’ve got a way with ‘er.” He chuckled. “Now you can pet her.”

She reached a tentative hand up to Storm’s beak and gave a few gentle pets, Harry next to her doing the same with Buckbeak. Frankie began to circle Storm, scratching her feathers and smiling so hard her face hurt. All of a sudden Hagrid grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted Frankie onto Storm’s back.

“What-?”

“You two are gonna ride ‘em.” He did the same to Harry and the two soared into the distance.

Flying with a Hippogriff was unlike anything she’d ever done.

When the two touched down, the classes clapped, all but a few annoyed Gryffindors and Slytherins.

“Harry! Reed!” Hagrid snapped her out of her daze. “Amazin’!”

“Hey.” Potter whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Frankie shrugged. “The book did try to attack me.”

He chuckled. “Malfoy really saved you?” Frankie nodded. “Guess he’s nice to girls he fancies.”

“He does not fancy me, Potter. Get your head on right.”

“I’ll help speed things up.” He pulled Frankie into a tight hug, arms wrapped swift around her waist. “Just go with it.” Frankie obliged, curious to see Draco’s reaction. She put her arms gently around Potter’s neck and leaned into the embrace.

Just as Potter said, Draco stormed towards the two. “This must be easy if Potter could do it. You aren’t dangerous at all, are you? You great ugly brute.”

“Draco stop, stop!” He didn’t stop, obviously envious of Harry’s success, not the embrace. Frankie ran out in front of Storm, who had gotten on her hind legs in anger or fear. It happened in a flash of sharp, stinging pain. Storm had slashed her talons across Frankie’s back, leaving a sizable gash in her clothing and skin, blood beginning to seep through her clothing and onto the grassy floor.

Storm was upset by this. Not wanting to have hurt the girl who had been so kind to her, but was afraid of the boy who shouted. Storm nudged Frankie’s side with sorrow, just bringing forth a strangled cry of pain from Frankie’s throat.

“Chess, Merlin, I’m so sorry!” Draco cried. “Hagrid, please, I’m so sorry, she needs to go to the hospital wing!”

~

A/N: ON THAT ROAD TRIP GRIND pumping out some content! let me know what you think!

[jabbajambler]

4

Powerless

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,365

*GIF by @starwars-gifs​*

         I woke up with my teeth chattering from the cold around me. My blood ran cold and I felt frozen in place. It took a few minutes before I regained some heat in my body, at least enough to move from my seat.

        The frog lady was knocked unconscious on the floor while Din was out across the control panel. I had no clue and no way of telling how long we were out, but judging by the ice that crystallized on Din's armor, I assumed it had been a while.

         I placed my hand on his shoulder and tried to shake him awake. It took a few tries, but eventually he awoke and lifted his head from the controls to face me. He seemed out of it, but I think we all were. The crash hit us pretty hard.

         "Good morning, sleepy head," I joked as he tried to power up the ship with no success. "Nothing's working."

         "Clearly," he groaned and looked back at the frog lady who was finally waking up. She was shivering and letting out little whimpers at the cold. Din quickly stood and helped her back into her seat, trying to calm her down but to no avail. She croaked and pushed against his shoulders, anxiously looking towards the door. "I'll find your eggs," he nodded, understanding her concern, "don't worry."

         "And I'll grab her some blankets," I spoke quickly. Din had a few down in the hull and it sounded like a dream to be bundled up in something warm. I clambered my way down the icy ladder, slipping on the second bar, but I just barely managed to keep my grip.

         The ship was a complete wreck. Wires were strewn everywhere with chunks of metal either missing or protruding from the ship in ways they weren't supposed to. The snow blew in through the gaps and made it all that much colder and unbearable. Almost everything had a thin dusting of snow.

         Din jumped down the hatch, hitting the ground next to me with a soft thud. His gaze shifted around, analyzing every single chunk or wire out of place with a silent intensity. He managed to convey so much with so little and right now, he radiated annoyance, which was assisted with the irritated sigh that escaped him. "Damn it."

         I grabbed a few blankets while Din opened the door to the empty cot, muttering out a quick, "where are you?"

          "Where is who?" I questioned, holding the blankets to my chest and peering into the cot. "Din, where is the child?"

          "Who else do you think I'm looking for?" He hissed while the frog lady croaked from the cockpit. "Hang on, I'm looking for your eggs!"

         "How did you lose the child?" I seethed, trying to keep my voice down to not worry the lady.

         Din stomped toward me and poked his finger in my face, "Do you know where he is? If so, why don't you have him?"

         I groaned and tossed my head back before pushing him aside and stepping over the boxes. He followed me, not far behind and mumbling inaudibly under his breath. I'm sure we would've kept bickering if it hadn't been for the soft sound of slurping.

         Din tossed back a large cover to find the child hovering over the lady's eggs, trying to slip one in his mouth. It was a disgusting sight, I could only be grateful that the frog lady wasn't here to see it.

         "No!" He grabbed the tub of eggs while scolding the little green fella. "I told you not to do that." He closed the lid and shouted back up at the lady, "found them!"

         Before either one of us could grab the kid, he slurped up the egg in his hand in one chomp all while smiling up at us with big, innocent eyes.

         "How many did you eat?" Din asked, receiving a burp in response.

         "Shit." I sighed and collected him up in my arms, wiping his mouth with my sleeve. "You can't do that, okay? That's bad. Really, really bad."

         Din helped the frog lady down and gathered a few ration packs for us to eat while I wrapped her up in all the blankets I could find. It was tempting to keep a few for myself, but I figured my shawl could keep me warm enough for now.

         I offered my rations to the kid since he was clearly much more desperate for food than I was. I wasn't too hungry anyway, they needed it more than I did. Instead, I just sat by the eggs, making sure he didn't manage to sneak another one. Certainly Din was feeding him, why would he go to such lengths to try eating these?

         "If you hadn't guessed," Din's voice was frustrated as he fiddled with some of the loose wires, "we're in a tight spot. The main power drive is not responding and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls."

         "Gee, any good news?" I scoffed and pulled my knees closer to bundle in the warmth.

         Din shook his head and laid out another blanket on the ground. "I'll have a better idea of our prospects at that time."

         The lady grumbled and pointed to her eggs as the monitor sunk lower. Din shook his head, his voice filled with empathy but there was not much more for us to do, "I'm sorry, lady. I don't understand Frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep." He leaned back against the wall as the child grabbed a hold of his leg as a pillow. I would almost consider it cute if the likelihood of our demise wasn't so high.

         The frog lady wrapped one of the blankets she had around the container and offered another to me, holding it out and croaking something in a somber tone. I shook my head, but smiled the most grateful smile I could. I would be fine. Her eggs, however, deserved more warmth.

          "No, thank you. You need it more." I pulled it around her and rubbed her arms, trying to keep her warm, but she resisted and continued to croak and grumble.

         Din sighed, "just take the blanket, Myrah."

         "She needs it more than I do, I'll be fine," I assured him.

         "It's freezing."

         "I said, I'll be fine," I snapped.

         Din groaned, his head clinking against the metal wall. "Myrah, just come here," he demanded in a harsh voice.

         I felt like a child as I shuffled over with my head hung low. He stared up at me for a moment before grabbing my wrist and tugging me down to the ground next to him. My breath escaped me in a huff as I hit the floor. Din only shook his head and crossed his arms again, acting as if he didn't scoot towards me until his body was pressed against mine.

        I held in the laugh that threatened to bubble up from my chest and laid my head on his shoulder in silent thanks. Maybe things weren't as bad as I thought. Maybe, just maybe, things could eventually go back to the way they once were. At least something like it.

         I awoke with a start at the sound of a robotic voice saying, "wake up Mandalorian," along with Din swiftly pulling his gun from its holster. My head snapped to the right where the frog lady had rewired Zero's controls to translate her words. She croaked into the microphone, allowing it to easily translate her words.

         "This cannot wait until morning," came the monotonous voice again. Din's breathing was heavy, I could feel the rise of his chest against my side, and his gun was still trained on the droid. "Do not be alarmed. I bypassed the droid's security protocols and accessed its vocabulator."

          I let out a long breath of relief as Din lowered his blaster, "well, at least it didn't try to kill us this time-"

         "What the hell are you doing?" He snapped. "That droid is a killer."

         "These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle," she croaked into the mic. "My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to."

         The child whimpered quietly and leaned against Din, looking up at him with a wide, empathetic look. Din sighed, "look, lady, the deal is off. We're lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives."

         "I thought honoring one's word was a part of the Mandalorian code," her voice sank as she stared at the ground. "I guess those are just stories for children."

         "Din," I whispered and shifted my body to face him. We'd taken this lady on a hell of a roller coaster and all she wanted was to reunite with her husband. She didn't deserve our drama when she had a chance at a normal life. "C'mon. You can fix this, I know you can. I'll help, too, but she deserves this. We made a promise."

         "No," he groaned and pushed himself off the ground. "I made a promise. You're going to stay here." He stomped towards the tool box, mumbling under his breath, "this wasn't part of the deal," as he left the hull.

         He was grumpy, more than usual. I blamed that on the lack of sleep, but there were likely many other aspects that were currently playing into that. One, unfortunately, was probably me.

        "I'm sorry about him," I laughed quietly to the frog lady. "He's not always like this. Sometimes he's actually very sweet, if you can believe that. You should probably get some rest as he fixes this up."

        She croaked and stared at her eggs while I leaned back against the wall again. The child crawled in my lap and dozed off to sleep as fast as he could. It seemed like he had the right idea and before I knew it, I was back in my mind once again.

           The child woke me up after a few minutes, maybe an hour, I wasn't sure. He kept tugging on my hood and clothing, cooing on with a sense of urgency. Before I could stand, he waddled his way outside into the snow, babbling beside the Razor Crest as flurries fell from the sky. I could hear Din working on the ship, the sparks bouncing off the metal hummed in the empty air.

         I pushed myself off the ground with a low groan from the stiffness left in my back from sitting for so long against the harsh floor. The hull was even colder now, if that was possible. There was nothing but a constant flow of freezing air and snow that now covered not only everything around, but me as well.

       Somehow, that was all there was; containers. There was no blue containment of eggs, no purple frog lady, just Din's crappy containers of his obscure weapon supply.

       "How 'bout you come over here, give me a hand? Make yourself useful," Din's voice echoed through the canyon.

        "Din?" I stepped through the hull and pulled my hood over my head. My hands flew to my arms, trying desperately to get the warmth of my palms through the fabric.

         "Myrah?" His helmet snapped in my direction. "What are you doing? I told you to stay in the ship." He jumped down from his spot, coming closer until he towered over me.

         My teeth started to chatter again as I tried to stumble out a response. "Well, I was until-"

        "You're gonna freeze out here," he interrupted. "Go grab a blanket or something."

        "I'm not cold," I argued. I was lying, obviously. I was freezing down to my bones, but I wouldn't let him know that. My eyebrows furrowed together in a mix of frustration and confusion. He was treating me like more of a child than - well - the child.

       "You're shivering." He stated simply, which I was. He placed his gloved hands on my shoulders, trying to push me back towards the ship's entrance.

       "No- Din, I- Damn it, will you listen to me?" I tried to fight against him, but trying to just use my strength against his was useless and within a few seconds, I was back in the ship again. He grabbed a blanket from the back of his cot and wrapped it snuggly around my shoulders. It was thin, but it was warmer than what I was wearing.

         "I'm listening," he shrugged and ran his hands up and down my arms, adding to the warmth. "What is it?"

        I glanced at his hands, a little smile building on my face no matter how hard I tried to hide it. "The frog lady. She uh- She took off while the kid and I were asleep."

        "She what?" He stopped and pulled his arms back to his sides. "When did she go?"

         "I don't know. I was asleep!" My voice rose to a near squeak.

         He shook his head and swiftly left the hull, scanning the footprints that descended down a dark tunnel. "Stay here," he demanded.

         "Why? I can defend myself just fine out there, if not better than you!" I snapped and took another step towards him, jabbing my finger against his chest.

         "Because I said so." He pushed my hand away and kept venturing down the tunnel. "Watch the ship!"

         I rolled my eyes and stepped back towards the wreckage. I suppose neither of us knew what was out there, one of us had to make sure the ship was at least somewhat safe. Or, as safe as it could be.

         All I could do now was just sit and wait. Oh, how the tables had turned.

taglist:

@emiijemii​

[captnbarnesrogers]

Fall: The Bridges we Begin to Cross

Pairing/Characters: CollegeAU!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers Warnings: Nothin too major, sexual tension, v v slow burn

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes Y/N to all is favourite places in Brooklyn; his favourite  restaurant, his favourite park where he usually writes his poetry, his  favourite café, the alleyway where he once kicked someone’s for trying to  kick Steve’s… She finds out things that she never knew about him. It was only  the fifth day in Brooklyn and they knew they were crossing a dangerous  bridge.  WC: 2.4k+ A/N: It’s finally here! Better chapters to come, I just wanna leave y’all hanging for a bit heheeh

PREVIOUSLY

FALL MASTERLIST

You don’t really know how you got here, not the fact that you’re laying next to a shirtless Bucky, but the way you feel. Of course, when you first met him you thought he was attractive but never did you think that you’d end up here, getting butterflies over the thought that this could be real. You couldn’t really separate what was real and what was fake dating with Bucky due to him being overly affectionate during the past couple of days. 

You stared at the ceiling and back at Bucky. Your heart did a leap and you knew you were crossing a dangerous path. Bucky began to turn in his sleep indicating that he was about to wake. His arm reaches over and lazily rests his arm across your waist. He pulls you in closer.

“Stop staring at me when I’m sleeping.” He says groggily. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy.

“I’m, uh, not, just wondering if you were awake, I don’t want to go down by myself.” You lied.

“You know you have a tell, right?”

“A tell?” You questioned, moving onto your side and resting your head in your hand. He nodded, “Can you tell me what it is?” He shook his head, “But why not?”

“Because then I wouldn’t know when you’re lying to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Alright, Y/N,” he smirked, “if you say so.” You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned back to face you, “What’s the tell!?” You buggered. He chuckled and hopped out of bed, “Bucky!”. He grabbed a towel and heads out of the room but not before turning once again to you.

“Wanna have a shower?” You blushed and shrugged it off with a laugh, throwing a pillow at him. You planted yourself back into the bed, letting out a shuddering breath. You clutched your chest and caught your breath.

In that moment you thought about every little white lie you’ve told Bucky and what was something you did every time you lied. To be fair, you weren’t a very good liar. You couldn’t lie to save your life. Then your mind wondered. Wondered about Bucky’s little touches and comments. What if they meant something to him but most of all, what if they only meant something to you. You shook yourself out of your imagination and sighed.

“What are you sighing about there?” You pushed yourself up by your elbows, finding a wet, shirtless Bucky standing in the door way.

“Just figuring out what my tell is.” He laughed at you and nodded, his lips pursed as he did so. You pushed your thighs together to relieve some tension. Just seeing water run down his abs made you subtly suck in a breath.

“Well, I’ll never tell you what it is.” You groaned, mostly out of arousal but Bucky thought it was out of frustration.

“So,” you began, sipping your coffee, “what are we doing today?”

“Mmm, I think I wanna show you some of my favourite spots in the neighbourhood.”

“Okay, should I pack some food for us or?” He smiled at your thoughtfulness. He thought it was sweet and at that point, he had the urge to kiss you – looking down at your lips whilst licking his own.

“No, uh, I’ll take you out to lunch, if you don’t mind the walk?” You nodded, hopping off of the kitchen bench and eating the last bite of your toast, “Alright!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, “You wanna get dressed, princess?” You bit away a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll go up now.” You went for a warm simple look – white turtleneck, blue jeans, and some boots. As you walked out the door, Bucky had grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips, waving goodbye to his mother and letting her know that you both would be back before dinner.

“This alleyway right here?” He pointed at the wet and dark alleyway, “This is the first place that I kicked someone’s ass because they were trying to beat up Steve.”

“Must’ve hurt, huh?” You giggled.

“You should’a seen the sight on the other guy.” You both kept walking. Sharing quiet conversations and enjoying each other’s company until you both reached a small corner café. The smell of coffee beans clouded the air. Sounds of chitter chatter surrounded the atmosphere, “You want something?” You nodded.

“Hot chocolate please.” He waited behind two other customers before being faced with a the female cashier.

“Bucky?” She questions. He looks at her for a moment before he lets go of your hand and runs to the corner of the counter, engulfing the brunette into a hug.

“Dottie! How are you!?” You felt something heavy in your chest but you didn’t want to admit it. It’d be too early to say and you didn’t want to say it. At all. You stayed where you stood whilst Bucky conversated with the girl. You weren’t going to lie, you felt extremely awkward in this situation; not knowing what to do with yourself. You could hear them quietly talk, only making your exhales heat in- Well, it’s better not to say.

“We should catch up.” She says with excitement and he nods. You couldn’t help yourself – you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be in town for a while, just ring up.” She gives him one last embrace before taking his order. He walks back towards you with a smile plastered on his face, “Sorry about that, just someone I knew from high school.”

“You seemed to be more than just ‘knowing’ each other.” You laughed awkwardly. You both sat down near the window at the corner of the café.

“Laced with green poison, are we Y/N?”

“Huh?” Of course, you knew exactly what he was going to say, “No green poison here, just I know you.”

“I know you too, Y/N,” he inched closer to you, “so I know when you talk with an attitude.” He pulled away as Dottie placed his coffee and your hot chocolate in front of you. You smiled up at her but she barely acknowledged your presence. Before Bucky could take a sip out of his cup, you tapped on the side of it. He pulled the cup away from his lips and saw Dottie had written down her number.

“Just someone you knew?”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N/N!” He said with a chuckle.

“I’m not judging you, James! I’m just saying that she cannot be just someone you knew and have a reaction like that when you both meet again.”

“Maybe she’s just excited to see me!” He laughs.

“I don’t give out my number to every guy I get excited about.”

“Well I’d hope not.” He mumbles, taking a sip of his coffee. You give him a playful slap on the arm and chuckle.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Is it roast Bucky day or what?” He gives out a chuckle.

“Every day is roast Bucky day.”

“Anyway, the reason why we’re here is because this is my favourite café.” He points to the spot you were sitting in, “And in that very spot is where I first got my heart broken.”

“Jesus, why would you still come here?”

“The memory of the pain gives me things to write about.” He explains.

“So, who was the girl?” You giggle, drinking your hot chocolate.

“Dottie.” He points over.

---

After the café, you head was swirling. You couldn’t get the image of Bucky and Dot out of your head. Of course, you’d seen Bucky with girls before but it seemed that Dot was a serious part of Bucky’s life. He grabbed your hand and held it in his.

“Okay we’re here.” You couldn’t even remember how long you’d both had walked because your head was focused on something else.

“Where?” He pulled at your hand and sat you down on a bench, fronting a beautiful pond full of ducks and the sound of the fountain not too fair ringing in your ear.

“This is where the magic comes to life.”

“Ew, James, why did you-?” You scrunched your nose in disgust.

“Not like that, you idiot” He chuckled, “I mean, this is where I come to write, to think… This is where I came up with some of my best work.”

“Why here?”

“I actually don’t know, Steve and I just used to come here as kids and I would look around and suddenly I had all these great ideas that I put down on paper.” He smiles softly at you and pulls out his notebook. It’s folded in half and blue with white creases, probably from just stuffing it in his bag all the time. You flicked through it and gave him a questioning look, “You can take a look if you’d like.” You shook your head.

“I think poems are a bit personal, well, until you publish them of course.” Bucky admired this about you. You were very respectful even when he asked you to invade his thoughts. You liked to let him keep them to himself.

“But wouldn’t you like to know what I was thinking and if I’m thinking about you?”

“Are you thinking about me, James?” You smirked as he blushed.

“N-No?”

“Unsure?”

“I mean, of course I’m thinking of you, you’re here, aren’t you?” You nodded, smirk still plastered upon your face.

He walked you both over to the bench just across from the fountain. Sitting down, you pondered over the water that came out of the top of the fountain, the sculpture of a mermaid brushing its hair.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. You didn’t even notice him staring at you.

“Have you ever loved someone, Y/N?” You also didn’t notice before but his arm had made its away around your shoulder. You were confused about his question, “Well, have you?”

“Um, I don’t know.” You might be in love right now. Your inner monologue disrupts. You shook the thought out of your head.

“Aren’t you supposed to be writing screenplay with a romantic theme for your semester project?”

“God, don’t remind me.” You huffed, “How am I supposed to write something genuine on a thing I know nothing about?”

“Well, why don’t you experience it?” You felt him leaning towards you. His hot breath on your lips and his soft hand on your cheek, caressing lightly. You closed your eyes, preparing for the touch of his lips on yours.

“Well, isn’t it my favourite fake couple.” Bucky pulled away quickly and cleared his throat. You blushed and moved away from Bucky as Steve approached the both of you, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that you guys were about to kiss.” Bucky smiled with annoyance towards his best friend, “Practising?”

“Bucky was just telling me about how you guys would come here all the time.” You nodded awkwardly. Steve hummed in response whilst smirking in your direction.

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

“What? A guy can’t ponder in his childhood park?” Steve says sarcastically. He laughs before explaining, “I’m meeting Peggy here, we’re going to this food festival thing.” Bucky nodded, acknowledging his plans.

“Well, I think I might take Y/N home now, mom’s making dinner.” He stood up and intertwined his hands with yours, making your cold hands warmer than they were before.

“See you guys later.” Steve bids. You and Bucky wave in response.

When you arrived back at Bucky’s house, you were a little bit confused. Was he really going to kiss you? What would’ve the kiss meant to him? Did he like you? You had all these questions running around your head that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. His hands were intertwined with yours the whole ride home, the only warm part of your body and the only part you could feel. He walked you into the house and took your jacket, hanging it up.

“Ma, we’re home.” He called out. It was getting dark outside, Bucky closes the door before anymore cold could get into the warm house.

“Bucky?” He hummed as he lead you through the house, “I’m uh, not feeling so well, I think it’d be better if I laid down for a bit.” His tone immediately changed; nurturing, caring, worry – you could hear it all in one sentence, added with the hand on your cheek.

“Yeah, baby, go for it, need help getting up?” You shook your head and pulled at the sleeves of your jumper. He kisses your forehead, “I’ll tell mom, check up on you in a bit?” You nodded and made your way up.

You laid down on the bed, still in your clothes from before. Reminiscing back to the almost kiss. You cover your face with your hands.

“This cannot be happening, not now, God, please, not now.” You whisper yell at yourself, “This is a fake relationship, he asked you to be here because he needs a fake date, stop it.” You wanted to scream into the pillow. You wanted to kick and punch and just take out all of these feelings out on something, “This is fake, this is fake, this is fake…” You chanted. You gasp when you hear a knock on the door.

“Hey.”

“Hi Bucky.” You gave him a soft smile.

“How are you feeling?” You shrugged because that’s how you really felt, you had no idea, not a clue, “Well, I bought water, hot chocolate, and there’s pain killers in my pocket.” He walked over and sat down beside you. He moved a piece of stranded hair away from your face and tried to feel any heat against your neck, “Hi.” He chuckles, giving you a soft smile.

“Hi.”

“Are you hungry?” He leans forward and kisses your temple, stroking your reddening cheeks. You shook your head.

“Not right now.”

“I told my mom that there was a chance that you wouldn’t be coming down.” You jolted up as he laid beside you.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, I completely forgot that your mom made dinner, we have to go down.” He grabs your waist and brings you back down the mattress.

“She’s saving a plate for us, don’t panic.” You suddenly sink into his arms as he coddles you into him, “She’d rather you feel better than not feel 100% at the table.”

“Are you sure this is okay?” He kisses your cheek.

“Give it an hour or two before she gets offended.” He jokes. You slapped his arm playfully and before you knew it, you’d both fallen asleep.

--

TAGLIST:

@captianlibby​

[alkali-is-sleeping]

The Dog Star 2

[cw: some shouting, anger, could be triggering for some]

<previous chapter>

If my little brother — a Death Eater who made Walburga, our mother very proud — had not gotten himself killed at the hands of the Dark Lord, I most likely would not have inherited my family’s home. Twelve Grimmauld Place loomed below us. The House of Black had never been welcoming, but I needed to make this Hari's home; its needed to welcome him.

I revved again as we made our descent, careful to make sure that Hari was still safe as we landed.

But there was a shadowy figure at the door. I wrapped Hari with my jacket, separating his sleepy head from what may lay ahead, panicking at the thought that he may be taken from me, or worse...

I neared cautiously, I daren’t say fearfully, my life had overflown with it for too long and I needed my courage more than ever now. The closer I got, the more I became certain that this was someone I knew, but the pressing fog in my head made it impossible for me to say who until —

Fearful amber eyes turned to me, lowered on the slowish breathing lump in my jacket and glistened under the light of the street lamps and the stars — I was named after the brightest one — and the no longer full moon.

Remus teared up more and more the closer I drew. He reached his hand out, once I was near enough, as if to touch Hari, but retracted it just as quickly, thinking better if it.

I did not want to let go of the baby. He was a lifeline then, keeping my head over water, stopping me from drowning in the grief and the mess and the truth and —

Remus had always been the best at gauging my emotion, my confusion radiating to him perhaps, permeating his ever calm demeanor, telling him that my hands and this baby were, at least for now, surgically attached. He tapped his wand to the door causing it to clunk painfully through the soundless night, and pushed it for us all to get in.

He lit the fire in the drawing room, all the candles and lamps and eventually took to standing in a far corner of the room staring at sleeping Hari, occasionally wiping his eyes with his tatty jumper sleeve.

“W-why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the Secret Keeper?” I started at the sound; it was the first voice I’d heard all night aside from Hari’s cooing and babbling.

I lifted my eyes to Remus’s; red and bloodshot, just like mine probably.

“Forgive me... we didn’t think we could trust you... Voldemort had so much he could have offered you in exchange for...” I gulped. The mistake I had made, it cost my best friend and his wife their lives and I could hardly bring my self to telling Remus.

“I went to Peter’s hiding place,” I continued, “I was supposed to check if he was still ok, but he was gone. No struggle, nothing to suggest he left against his will even... it was my idea to make him Secret Keeper...” I whispered the last bit, tears rolling down my own cheeks, landing on Hari’s little blanket.

Remus hurried next to me, wrapping his arms around me and the baby, his tears mingling with mine.

“No one blames you,Sirius. Peter, well he...”

“Talentless rat,” my voice filled with anger suddenly, burning and smoking just like the Potters’ cottage... “Must have been his proudest moment, selling out his friends and their baby son...” I sobbed drily. “Lily was pregnant again... she and James told me last week, while you were recovering from the moon. They were going to tell you, once you were better and... and...” I trailed off. I didn’t want to stop talking, not when there we’re still so many truths wanting to get out, squirming and rioting in my stomach. I wanted to let them all out, to talk and talk until this was all a distant memory. But Remus’s eyes. His eyes were wide and they had stopped leaking. They were staring at me and for a second — perhaps it was my own paranoid mind, perhaps I imagined the contempt — he did blame me.

I think he was going to say something else before the fire had glowered iridescent green. We both took out our wands and and stood abruptly, Remus in front of me, me covering Hari. Ready for the worst.

A purple wizard’s hat, followed by a great mass of flowing silver-white hair which hid a benevolent old face and then the rest of the purple clad body. Dumbledore.

"I thought I might find you all here." His voice, a seemingly perpetual tone of casual amusement, irked me. My best friends were dead and he had the nerve to stand in my house and tell me, matter-of-factly, he knew he'd find me here? "I'd asked Hagrid earlier tonight to bring young Hari to me," he said, sitting, uninvited, on the nearest armchair. I was shooting daggers at him, but he seemed not to care, looking only between Remus and the baby I held. "But by the time he got there, the baby was gone, taken, the locals told him, by a man in a leather jacket and a flying motorbike... I knew, instantly of course, that his godfather must have taken him to safety."

I shifted my feet uncomfortably and redistributed Hari's weight in my arms. Why was Dumbledore here? What did he want?

I looked at Remus, who was in turn looking at Dumbledore, who was finally looking at me.

"I'm not sorry," i said, chin lifted in the airin defiance, daring him to make me apologise for having gone against his will.

"No one is asking you to be bu--"

"And I am not giving him to you."

My interuption was punished by silence, broken only by a dry cough from Remus. Dumbledore's eyes, bright moonstone, penetrating to the depths of my soul...

"Sirius, from what I gather, as Hari's guardian, you wannt what is best for him. However, you do not seem to have the full measure of things," Dumbledor was now making a dome with his hands, leaning forward on his seat. "I have good reason to believe thathis mother's sacrifice, Lily'sbloodshed for her son, has formed an unpenetrable protection on Hari. This is little understood magic, magic which is the sole reason Hari got away from Voldemort's attack with only a scar."

It was his turn to shoot me daggers; he most likely didnt mean it, but his gaze made me want to run and run. I didn't want to hear about what really happened, I'd seen enough, endured enought, I did not want anymore.

But he did not care, he kept talking, telling me everything, feeding me more and more dark, worm like truths.

"This is why i believe Hari needs to live with his aunt and uncle, blood relations of Lily's." I stared.

"WHAT?!" I bellowed, unable to control the sudden influx of anger bubbling over the surface. Hari woke at the sound, fussing and sqirming. remus made to take him from my grip, but I pushed him away, making him nearly-stumble back,eyes wide.

I rocked the baby slowly, allowing him to ease back to sleep.

Instead, I took to a menacing whisper; "You mean to send him to live with Muggles? People who dont even know him? Did you know Lily never wanted him to meet Petunia and..." I struggled for a name, "Whats-his-face? You want to send him to a place where, perhaps for most of his life, he won't know who he is or where he came from? A-and can't ypu imagine what that'd do to him? That no one will have bothered to tell him about his parents?" I panted as if I had shouted; I said all of that in one angry breath.

"I suppose I'm an easier book to read than I imagined." He was wiping his glasses with the hem of his amethyst robes and, my, did I want to throw stones at him just then, to watch him and his stupid, calm face, shatter into a million pieces, leaving only his delicate, half-moon glasses.

"I'm his godfather. I was the one James and Lily appointed as his guardian if they..." I couldn't say it. Maybe tomorrow could wake up, take some Fire Whiskey down to drink with James as we laugh loudly, like we did in schoool, before the war, laugh about the pathetic dream I'm having...

"Isn't... isn't there some magic in that?" I pleaded, finally defeated perhaps. Dumbledore paced the room twice round, Remus' eyes on him the whole time while i closed mine and imagined James grin, full of laughter and love and... life.

"Perhaps... But more than anything, I think I am to trust the Potters' judgement and their own trust in you, for now. I will decide if this is really a good choice after I have gathered enough information. Until then, you are not to leave this house under any circumstances. Not until I have good reason to believe he will be magically protected from teh Death Eaters out to avenge their fallen Master. And, I am also to understand, given that you are both here, that Peter Pettigrew was the spy the Order had so many whispers about, correct? You are not to search for him either, as I am sure you might be tempted to."

Remus and I just nodded deftly. I could not have cared less about this sentence at Grimmauld Place, though the fleeting urge to go after Peter, to throttle him and rip him limb from limb, did possess me for seconds. But Hari was just so much more important to me, and every second with him was precious, like little glittering pearls gathering in my hands.

"That concludes my bussiness here, and my welcome has been long over stayed, so I shall leave you to it." He Dissaparated.

The next moments all blurred into one,and i cannot say how, by sunrise; the pale greenish orange promisisng a cold, summer's morning, we found ourselves laying in the guest bed, Hari between us, still fast asleep. The both of us staring into space, our pillows damp and salty.

Despite the growing sunlight, Sleep's teder fingers caught up to me...

[A/N: gods this one was long, im sorry it took so long to post, ill try to be faster with chapter 3 (which mind you is longer still than this). i hope dumbledore moral ambiguity shows, dont worry if it doesnt, it really will further on. hope you enjoy and thanx for reading!!]

[wonderlustlucas]

lost - pjy x jw

⇢ prompt “Just a little lost.” ⇢ pairing park jinyoung x jackson wang ⇢ word count 1.3k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings none ⇢ summary “How about a cute night conversation fluff between Jackson and Jinyoung? Just something fluffy and cute I guess? :))”—request

No matter how comfortable he may be, sprawled out on his stomach with his face nestled in the space between two pillows, Jinyoung cannot ignore the incessant vibration of his cell phone against the wood of his bedside table. Leaning up on his elbows, disoriented and blindly reaching for the nuisance of a device, he distantly curses himself for never purchasing an alarm clock on Amazon so he could power his phone off for bed. Not that he finds himself receiving calls every night just as he’s fallen asleep, but still.

Bringing the phone closer to his face, Jinyoung grimaces at the harsh light and squints hard to read the caller ID. Just as he’s done so, it feels as if his heart comes to a careening stop, limbs suddenly heavy with unease he doesn’t quite understand. Then, his heart rate picks up in a panicked frenzy and he taps the green icon without a second thought.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit. You answered,” Jackson answers. While hearing his voice, rasped and groggy, somewhat calms Jinyoung’s nerves, such a reply has him frowning.

“Of course I answered,” Jinyoung snaps, tone laced with annoyance. He quickly mutters an apology. “That’s what friends are for, no?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Jackson hums. Then, a long pause that leaves Jinyoung forgetting to breath. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I just needed someone to talk to and you were the only person I thought of.” Jinyoung finds this hard to believe. Not only is GOT7 family, but Jackson has a handful of friends who care deeply about him. Nevertheless, he finds himself smiling at the revelation, rolling onto his back and switching the call to speaker mode. “It’s no problem,” Jinyoung assures, “I was only playing Valorant.” He lies.

I miss you, is what he almost says.

Jackson laughs, though it sounds a little tired. “You sure about that? Sounds like I woke you up.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jinyoung grumbles with a roll of his eyes, “why did you call, anyway?”

Again, a long pause. Jinyoung’s starting to get worried he is going to be told something he isn’t prepared to hear. “I don’t know, honestly,” Jackson admits, quiet enough that Jinyoung has to strain to hear him. “I guess I knew you would actually understand what I’m feeling.”

“And what are you feeling?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Just a little lost, I suppose,” Jackson sighs, and Jinyoung finds his brows furrowing in confusion. Jackson? Lost? Always confident and taking up new opportunities with gratitude and elation, Jackson is the last person he expected to feel such a way. “Overwhelmed, too. This business is so competitive these days, y’know? Here and in Seoul, we continuously have to get better, do this, do that, follow the current trend while also trying to figure out what the next will be. I feel so greedy. We’ve been so successful and I don’t want to ever lose what we have. But then it gets so tiring, and I realize I’m not happy like I used to be, just going whichever direction I’m being pushed. And I start to forget what my purpose even is, anymore.”

Jinyoung has to pause and really mull over what Jackson has just told him. Sure, the seven of them have spent countless nights discussing such stresses and hidden fears, but never has he received a phone call from one of his bandmates at almost two in the morning. Especially not Jackson.

“Jackson,” he begins, struggling to find the right words somewhere in between actual good advice and bullshit he doesn’t need to hear, “it’s okay to feel greedy when this is our job. By nature, it’s a competitive occupation, and as long as it doesn’t get to your head, sometimes you need to have that greed, and even a little arrogance, if you want to keep that success.”

Jinyoung pauses incase his friend wants to speak. At the silence, he takes it as his cue to continue.

“But you can’t let it take your happiness away. Humans are kind of like computers, we work and work and work, and then we overwork, we refuse to backdown from competition, and then we break. We’re like computers in a lot of ways, but we can’t multitask like they do. No matter what, Jackson, you have to work with what makes you happy. You’re not going to find your purpose again until your happy.”

“What the fuck? Are you a philosopher or some shit?” Jackson laughs, but Jinyoung doesn’t miss his sniffle or the choked sound of his words.

He shrugs, trying to fight a smile. “No. I remember learning about how our brains are like computers in psychology, though.”

“Sounds like an excuse a philosopher would say,” Jackson snorts, followed by a loud huff. “Hey, thank you for that. Are… Are you happy? Have you lived by that same advice?”

Jinyoung purses his lips, closes his eyes and hopes he can find the words to how he truly feels. Is he happy? With his career? Himself? Friends? Family? Love life? Well, maybe not that last one, but that is not something he can necessarily explain to Jackson, of all people.

“Yes,” he decides, “of course there’s stuff that makes my life difficult, y’know. Like JYP. But I love making music, I love performing, I love acting, I love our fans, and I love you guys. I once felt like you right now, though. But then I realized there’s no point in caring about what other people think of you, good or bad. It all depends on how you feel, how you work, and what you want to do.”

Jackson makes a noise of understanding. “You’re a real wise one, you know that?”

Jinyoung chuckles, rolling onto his side and staring at the screen of his phone, trying to picture what Jackson is doing right now and almost wishing he had FaceTimed, instead. Is he in bed, too? Has he been crying a lot recently? Sleeping well, or are the bags beneath his eyes puffy and blue? These are all questions he can ask tomorrow, he decides, realizing with a sag of his shoulders just how much he misses his friend. Friend.

“I’ve been told that once or twice, actually.” “Oh? What enlightening advice have you given before?”

“Told them how they should keep in touch more often rather than calling mid-breakdown in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jackson grumbles, chuckling nevertheless. “I’ll keep that in mind, though. You sure I wouldn’t be a bother?”

“No! Of course not,” Jinyoung fires back a little too quickly, “I’m home by seven every day and have nothing to do, I’d appreciate the company.” Cringing, he prays the underlying nervousness in his voice isn’t noticeable, oblivious to how this has Jackson feeling warm and fuzzy all over. “Well, alright,” Jackson says, then, much softer, “thank you, Jinyoung.”

“Don’t thank me, I wish you called me sooner,” Jinyoung replies, “you take care of yourself now, Mr. Wang. Text me tomorrow. Or call. I’ll always be here for you.”

For the umpteenth time in the five minutes of their call, silence, albeit comfortable, settles over the pair. Longing, he would call it. Content, Jackson would. “Well, then, I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Jinyoung. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Jackson.” Jinyoung hums, deep in thought. When Jackson hangs up, he finds himself staring sadly at the lock screen of his phone before finally moving to plug it back into its charger on the table. Puzzled, maybe a little at the call and maybe a little at the way he feels, Jinyoung settles back into bed and stares absently at the ceiling. As he said, he has always been on top of every aspect of his life—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and everything in between. This, however, has left him doubting everything he’s tried convincing himself of the past few years.

Thirteen hundred miles away, Jackson’s mind feels clearer than it had half an hour ago. The problem, however, is the tradeoff: his heart feels much heavier than it did before, and for reasons he isn’t ready to figure out.

He’ll deal with that tomorrow.