#grade nine was the second best which is not saying much. I ended up sleeping on hard wombat shit and ran out of water too much

[david-watts]

having been scalded with far-too-hot-water, I’ve remembered why I hate washing up

[i-like-sparkly-things]

Right in front of you

A Halstead!sister

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? Or being caught?"

Requested : Yes by @study-coffee-chicago : They found out she cheated on a test in high school...and Jay's the one who has to pick her up.

Warnings : angry!Jay (lots of it), alcohol, swearing, anxiety attacks

Note : I am so so so sorry this so longg 😭 I ended up so far away from the actual request kayela please don't block mee 😭 butt I've learned alot in writing abt active and passive voices and using more imagery Yayy!! I'm so glad that yall are ok with my grammar thank uu🥺

MASTERLIST HERE

The piles of homework and flashcards you needed to memorize had no end in sight, and now that Will was taking nightshifts along with his usual double shifts, and intelligence was tracking down an underground drug cartel, you spent most days alone, allowing your mind to engulf you.

Every time you sat down to study, you felt a striking pain in your chest. In mere seconds the air was sucked out of your lungs and you found yourself panting, desperate to get oxygen back into your body.

You would be surrounded by books and worksheets and you could swear the walls of your room were closing in towards you, trapping you in a sea of incomplete work.

You failed to follow the schedules and to do lists you had made for yourself. Staring at them, hoping the essays would write themselves.

All you needed, was a break. A moment to relax from anything and everything.

So when your best friend mentioned that her brother used to drink a little before he appeared for an exam, your mind was quick to catch on.

Last night you had borrowed a little bit of beer from Jay's stash of alcohol and took a few sips of it as you studied.

The more you drank, the less bitter it became. It was a weird, new sensation, but it worked nonetheless.

Except now, you were sitting in the girls bathroom at school, ramaging through your notes, trying to recollect what you had learned yesterday.

You saw what you had underlined and highlighted— names in pink and important dates in yellow—but your mind came up blank.

Flipping the pages you saw people in wigs, and castles burning to the ground —None of which you recognized.

A wave of anxiety rippled through you unable to comprehend your next thought —you were going to fail.

Your head was throbbing as you ran a hand down face, massaging your temples trying to calm yourself down.

You took out your water bottle that you had filled with beer and swallowed a few gulps, hoping that it would help you think straight.

You groaned, feeling the sting of alcohol at the back of your throat, popping some mints into your mouth, you ran towards the exam hall.

***

Your foot bounced on the polished wood floors as sweat pooled on your forehead.

You thought you were careful —only taking a peek from your friends answer sheet when Mrs.Ling's back was facing you.

Everything would have worked out if it wasn't for that kid sitting behind you. In a split second your teacher turned around, when he dropped his pen, to see you peering over your partner's desk.

Now you were sitting in the principles office praying that Jay wouldn't be the one picking you up.

You could already imagine his anger at you for pulling him away from his case, only to find you cheated.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side today.

You dare not look at Jay as he entered the office, letting out a huff as he sat down. You could feel the rage emitting him, tension filling the room, as he burned holes looking at you.

"I'll get straight to the point" Your principal started.

"Please" Jay growled, struggling to contain himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, when he got the call saying that you had cheated on your midterms.

You and Will were alike,at least he thought so, both good at science and math but weak at geography and history. Nonetheless you continued to secure good grades for the most part.

"Y/n here, was caught cheating from a classmates answer sheet. Our teacher caught her red handed. I truly did not expect this from you. These midterms cost thirty percent of your grade..... "

Pretty soon his voice was muffled like he was getting farther and farther away from you. His figure swayed in front of you as you squinted your eyes to keep him in the center of your vision.

" You are suspended, Mrs halstead"

Your eyes widened , your body choosing the perfect time to bring out what little beer you had taken when you heard those words, letting the alcohol mix with the adrenaline.

"WHAT??!! " Damn, alcohol really bought out your courage as Jay stared at you in shock at your audacity.

"Y/n, your lucky I'm letting you retake the exam. That's only because you've had a clean record so far. I strongly suggest you start preparing early Ms. halstead" your principal said in a firm but monotone voice that left you speechless.

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

Oh god. Every now and then, the ground would sway beneath you, tiles shifting in your vision. But you counted your steps, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, not wanting Jay to find out what else you had done........ until now.

You tilted your head, only to be met with your brother's piercing stare but little did he know, now it made it infinitely harder to concentrate on your walking.

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? *Or being caught?*"

***

You rested your head on the seat as Jay entered the truck, flinching, when he slammed the door shut. Your pounding headache was getting worse by the minute, as your ears started to ring.

You blinked a few times squinting to focus on the road ahead of you but the fast-moving cars and the loud horns made you feel like your head was going to explode.

"Y/n," he addressed you, much calmer now.

You forced yourself to turn to your brother, who wore a confused expression.

But the moment he saw your deshelfed hair and your cracked lips, a wave of worry crashed over him. What the hell?

The truck came to a stop at a red light and Jay immediately scanned you over "Y/n?" he grabbed your chin, his jaw dropping, as he came face to face with reality.

"Are you drunk!!?" he barked , steam basically pouring out of his ears.

But your pleading eyes and empty silence gave him the answer he needed. "Are you kidding me??" he snarled as he slammed the steering wheel.

Oh God no. A blinding pain ripped through your head when Jay's palms made contact with the hard plastic. You winched turning your head away from your furious brother, letting out a whimper.

Jay's eyes widened at the sound, his heart breaking, realizing the pain you were in.

If he was going to be mad at you or at least punish you, you needed to be sober.

He stepped on the pedal as the light turned green taking a few breaths, trying to calm himself down.

With the vice lords reclaiming their territory and selling uncut fentanyl, bodies were dropping all over the city most of them being kids.

Kids..... your age.

Every kid at the morgue, just reminded him of you. He saw parents sobbing, begging for their kids to come back but Jay new better. They were never going to come home. Ever.

So he made it a priority to catch these ruthless creatures. He made it a priority over his sleep, over nine hours shifts and unknown to him, over spending time with you.

"Hey , hey" he whispered, not wanting to hurt you again, "We'll talk about this later ok? for now...... just..... it's ok..... I've got you" here reached out his hand, the other still on the steering wheel, to slowly rub your back as you tried to breath through the pain.

" I got you"

***

Jay wrapped a hand around you allowing you to hold onto him for support.

Silently, he deposited you on the couch, laying you down. He knew that he wasn't in any state to talk to you. He needed to clear his mind from his racing thoughts and rueful images of dying teenagers.

His phone rang, indicating that the district was awaiting him. "Here" he reluctantly shook your shoulders "Y/n, I need to go ok? Will will be here soon"

***

Almost half an hour had passed and you were waiting for Will to get out of the shower. You'd heard Jay explain everything to him over the phone.

You thought about how disappointed he would be.

Will —being the nerd he was— always helped you with your projects and gave you pop quizzes during breakfast, before your exams. He taught you how to organize flashcards just like he did in med school.

Even through your blurry thoughts, the image of Will's betrayed face and embarrassed eyes, knowing you cheated, lingered on your mind.

Your body was all over the place. Tiny noises echoing through your ear. Your muscles simultaneously aching and loose.

You were shivering as you tried to curl up into a ball. Your body trying to hold what little heat it had within itself.

But nothing stopped your tears.

You felt water drops make their way down your cheeks forming small splotches of water on the cushion you laid your head on.

And you didn't bother to wipe them away.

Will more or less was in the same state you were in. There was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and victims were piling in the ED. He was running from one treatment room to the other, waiting to get back home and crash.

Will walked over to you with a huge glass of water and an advil, gently  nudging you to sit up.

Your head still pounded, your eyes zoning in and out of the figure in front of you "Y/n, here drink the whole glass and take this" Will soothed, placing the glass and the pill in your hand "I—I'm sorry" You whispered, distracting yourself from Will's eyes.

Will knew he should be angry. Just like Jay was but he couldn't bring himself to blaming you, not until he had the full story anyway.

You looked so petite on the enormous couch, your legs folded on top of each other, arms shaking as you drowned the glass of water along with the Advil.

Your red puffy eyes and tear strained cheeks,were a contrast from your usual self. or he thinks. He's been pretty busy lately, so he's not too sure. " We'll talk about it later. I'm not angry. I promise"

He assured and was about to head to bed himself when you grabbed his wrist.

If he wasn't angry at you then maybe— just maybe—he would help you.

"Stay" You pleaded , the word falling from your lips just as easily as it had, many, many times before.

And just like before, you were met with Will's soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, ready to help. Ready—to be by your side.

He's slowly nodded climbing onto the couch, next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you nestled into him, laying your head on his chest.

You found some comfort as he embraced you, talking you under his arm and encompassing you in his warmth.

Holding on to him, you hoped that he would take your pain away, just like he did when you were little.

***

Will woke up to an uncomfortable feeling of something —or someone—   tugging at his shirt.

He slowly opened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light as he felt another a tug at his side. He looked over to you, but your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, your arm laid across his chest.

You were holding on to Will , using him as a lifeline, grounding you from the pain.

You felt a hand squeezing your own, stopping you from gripping the fabric "Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look up at will who had tears of his own, staring at the state you were in "it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here"

He encircles you, tighter than before, whispering soothing assurances into your hair.

***

With Will's help, the pain slowly subsides, allowing you access to your thoughts again.

You step out of the shower, into the living room and your eyes widen seeing Jay and Will sitting at the kitchen counter.

You didn't even hear Jay come in, but right now taking in his hardened glare, you didn't dare ask.

You knew what was coming and you didn't fight. You couldn't.

"So apparently we're cheating on our midterms now, huh?" Jay's calm voice made shivers run down your spine, starting to take rapid breaths.

"And apparently, someone thinks it's ok to steal alcohol from my stash" He gritted, never breaking I contact with you. "Do you think that's how the world works Y/n? DO YOU? BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING TEENAGER!!" He spat, his thoughts fuming towards your trembling body.

It was every dieing body flashing before his eyes, as the past months' agony slipped off his tongue.

"Jay" Will's voice was stern, giving a knowing look towards his younger brother and didn't bother to give Jay time to argue with him.

"Y/n, we need to know what's going on"

"With school, with tests with....... everything" he stated giving you a solemn look meaning every word he said, promising himself that he would do whatever it takes to figure out what had been going on.

You sucked in a breath weighing all your options. You didn't want them to think that you needed a babysitter or  that you couldn't take care of yourself.

You knew that they had their own problems to worry about but you couldn't take it anymore.

You hated it.

The feeling of your lungs collapsing, struggling to find air for your body, your stress skyrocketing anytime you sat down to study, never getting any thing done.

All day long you would constantly tell yourself to do your work. Every spare second is spent in making a list of things you want to do but when it was time to actually do those things, your mind wandered and emptied.

You took another deep breath, looking up from your feet, your eyes meeting your brothers.

You spilled the past months events from how alone you were all the time and not being able to concentrate to how you ended up drunk at school and cheating on your midterms.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you your hands trembled. You stood crying in the middle of the room until you felt a pair of arms around you.

Will placed his hand at the nape of your neck as he stroked your back with the other "Breathe Y/n, just Breathe" He slowly pulled away leading you to the couch.

God, how he wished he could turn back time. Then he'd been more vigilant to notice the changes that had come over you.

You felt the couch dip on both sides but you intently studied your fingers, fumbling with the hem of your shirt and wiped the tears off your face. They were mad. No, they were furious. You knew it.

But for some reason, they weren't showing it. Maybe they were waiting-

"We're not mad"

You without your head around to look at Jay, furrowing your eyebrows in disbelief. Jay? Not mad? HA.

"but I am disappointed though, but that's only because you didn't tell us......

but stealing alcohol was bad too" he added, earning him a glare from Will.

"Y/n, what Jay means is— we could've helped with school . Homework . Tests . Anything, you name it. We will help" he assured, "But how do we know you need help, if you don't tell us?"

You sighed, taking in the weird turn of events that had happened before you. You had wasted all this time, trying to figure out all your problems out, when the answer was right in front of you.

A mountain of guilt now sat on Jay's shoulders, weighing down on him, pushing him deeper into a wormhole of 'if's'.

Maybe if he'd just been a little more careful, this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if he'd stop and listen to you once in a while, this wouldn't have happened.

While trying to save kids out on the street, he forgot to care for the kid at home. You were his sister, and yet, here you are in front of him, barely keeping yourself together.

But that would change. Right here. *Right now.*

"Y/n," Jay started "If you would have told us how alone and stressed you were feeling.....I would've taken some time off... Maybe we'd watch a movie or something. All you had to do was ask...... And we'll get you the help you need, y/n. You good with that?" he questioned, his anger and frustration dissipating.

You saw your brother, the workaholic detective, wanting to put his job aside, for you .

You were more important to him, than his job—You realized.

" Yea... Yeah, I am"

Will stood up and got another advil with another glass of water. "and maybe you wouldn't end up drunk and cheating on your test" he smirked, crouching in front of you.

"God, I didn't think it would hurt this bad. I am never drinking again!" you smiled , as you drowned the pill.

"See now that's what I like to hear!!" Jay exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. You squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, laughing, when you were joined by Will.

You know what? Maybe, things are going to be okay? Ya know?

__________________________

Read more of my fics here!!

Tagging : @girlandthemoon @herecomesthewriterwitch @megaliciab @meyocoko @alkadri-layal

[devildomimagines]

Love Languages

My headcanons for the Demon Brothers’ love languages; how they express love and what they yearn for. It ended up being so much longer than I anticipated so I put them under a read more.

Here are the 5 love languages I used that were proposed by Gary Chapman:

Words of Affirmation - Saying supportive things to your partner

Acts of Service - Doing helpful things for your partner

Receiving Gifts - Giving your partner gifts that tell them you were thinking about them

Quality Time - Spending meaningful time with your partner

Physical Touch - Being close to and caressed by your partner

Belphegor

Express: Quality Time

He doesn’t have much to offer except his time.

If he chooses you over a nap, you know you’re important.

His offers to hang out with each of his brothers when he gets out of the attic really cemented this for me.

Complements his twin’s trait of yearning for Quality Time which makes them a good match.

Yearn: Physical Touch

He’d never admit it to you cough tsundere cough but you grabbing his hand as you lead him somewhere is a special experience.

The fact that you don’t fear reaching out to touch him in any manner means a lot to him after what he did to you.

Secretly loves when his older brothers tousle his hair.

Holding him while he drifts off to sleep will have him feeling like he was on cloud nine in the Celestial Realm once again.

Beelzebub

Express: Acts of Service

Beel would do anything for the ones he loves.

He recognizes that he is strong and uses it to serve others.

He would be quick to offer to carry your backpack after school or if it’s been a long day of Student Council meetings he might even offer a piggyback ride so you don’t have to walk back.

You don’t have to ask for him to do any of the things that he does. He would gladly go out of his own way if it would make you happy.

Yearn: Quality Time

This boy revels in spending time with you.

He doesn’t care what you’re doing but just being in the same room energizes him.* He would love if you come watch him work out, he doesn’t care whether you join in or not.

It’s the little things like doing homework together or snacking in the kitchen that make him unbelievably happy.

Asmodeus

Express: Words of Affirmation

He’s quick to offer praise for appearances at any time. “I love how you did your hair today,” or “You’ve accessorized perfectly today!” are just a few examples of the first thing you hear from him in the morning.

He’s observant af. You did that thing that you were dreading? He’ll offer, “Way to get through it! I knew you would be great.”

Even when you’re run down and not looking your best, Asmo knows exactly what to say to brighten your day.

Asmo may not tell his brothers but he talks them up to you, he knows all of their best qualities.

Yearn: Physical Touch

For the Avatar of Lust, touch has so much meaning for him.

He reads into every touch, basically a body language/touch encyclopedia. He’s the kind of person that you would go to like, they smiled and then touched my arm, what does that mean? And he would know!

He loves when you initiate casual touches like linking arms while shopping or jokingly bumping hips while walking.

The lingering intimate touches drive him wild! Your hand on his back as you pass or when your hands slide down his arm makes him shiver.

Satan

Express: Quality Time

Giving you his time is the highest compliment.

Being together, no matter the activity, makes it special.

He’d be willing to try anything as long as you were there.

I feel like he would be the type to make ordinary tasks fun. Like the first time you had your turn at cooking dinner for the House of Lamentation, you were worried your cooking skills wouldn’t translate to the Devildom ingredients but you were also worried there wouldn’t be enough, you had never cooked for so many people. Satan appeared in the kitchen to offer some guidance, he understood your want to do it yourself so he stayed to chat and the time flew.

Yearn: Quality Time

The only one that yearns for the same thing he gives.

Since he puts in the effort and time, he deeply appreciates someone doing the same for him.

When you choose to spend time with him over others he is so pleased/honored. Alternatively, blowing off plans with him for something else enrages him like nothing else, so don’t do that.

He finds a lot of comfort in just knowing you’re in the same room enjoying your time with him.

Leviathan

Express: Gift Giving

I totally see him as the type to leave gifts for you to find instead of handing them to you himself. You know who leaves the presents just by the contents.

He definitely gets you a ton of TSL merch. Also matching merch to wear with him.

If you are playing video games together, he will leave enemy drops for you to pick up. He will play it off as he is so good at the game that he doesn’t need the drops.

We would also let you open his loot chests for him. Levi blushes as he explains he thinks you’re lucky and it will get him the best items.

Yearn: Words of Affirmation

The smallest compliment will have him a stuttering mess.

Cheering him on as he plays in a tournament makes him both nervous but more so powerful knowing you’re his cheerleader.

Overwhelm him with an endless stream of praise.

He can usually shake off any negative words thrown his way by others but his self talk can be extremely negative. Your words always pull him out of the darkest of spirals.

Mammon

Express: Physical Touch

Mammon is king of the casual touch. On any given day he could sling an arm around your shoulder, sit a little closer, or brush his hands with yours as you walk to and from school.* With his brothers: light punches to their arms, messing up his little brothers’ hair or hiding behind Lucifer to get out of trouble.

When he gets serious and wants to make a point, he will grab your shoulders so you face him dead on. When he is worried that someone might be hurt, he’s the one to check them over, turning them to check the damage.

Secretly loves holding your hand but he can only build up the courage to initiate it every once in a while, hence the brushing hands hoping you will take the bait.

Yearn: Words of Affirmation

If you give this man praise his knee jerk reaction is to brush it off. Just repeating it once more makes it sink in for him and he blushes.

Since his brothers are always putting him down, your admiration makes him go feral.

He thought it was odd at first when you would congratulate him for doing small things like getting through the week without stealing or not failing a class but over time he lives for it. Even going out of the way to earn more congratulations.

He gets so flustered when you thank him. Of course you would be thankful toward the Great Mammon but those thanks are the conversations that he replays in his head when he’s alone. I could see that the first time you do, it throws him off and he trips over himself.

Lucifer

Express: Gift Giving

He is a very thoughtful gift giver and he has the means to get almost anything in Devildom, nothing is too extravagant nor too simple to be a good gift and he knows it.

Maybe it comes from practice of keeping up with his brothers’ interests but he easily picks up on your interests and caters his gifts to such.

I think as a pseudo-parent figure, the positive reinforcement is ingrained in him. Rewarding good behavior has been proven to have better effects than punishing bad behavior after all.

To that point, most of the time he will give gifts in relation to something that happened: good grades, helping the brothers, or impressing Diavolo to name a few. But he also gives small things to boost your mood or motivate you and if something catches his eye that reminds him of you he would get it, without a second thought.

Yearn: Acts of Service

Taken aback when you do something for him unprompted. He was so used to giving orders that your random act pleasantly confused him at first.

He thought it was a fluke so he continues to be surprised each time you go out of the way for him. He feels a little guilty that you would perceive that he’s stooped so low that he needs your help so he apologizes.* After you explain that you want to help and that it’s your way of showing you care, he then begins to look forward to your acts of service no matter what it is. Just like his gifts, no act of service is too much or too small to him, he appreciates them all.

It feeds into his pride that you would take time out of your day, doing something for him and presumably thinking about him while doing it. He likes that he’s on your mind even if he’s not around.

[qitwrites]

traditions

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen 

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji/Fushiguro Megumi 

A/N: I caught up with the manga, and shit’s pretty fucked, so I decided to amend that with fluff. 

[AO3 Link]

Fushiguro - according to Kugisaki - is the textbook definition of a homosexual disaster.

No see, here’s the thing- everything was going fine. Great. No problems at all. Fushiguro respects his seniors, tolerates Gojo, and has the biggest soft spot for Inumaki, but he’s never been attracted to any one in his usual circle. So, school and sorcery and life in general was simple. No distractions, no crushes as such, no complications. All good.

And then Itadori Yuuji barges into his life and upends the fuck out of it by eating a special grade cursed object to save him. Then he joins Jujutsu Tech, and now they work and train and study and live alongside one another.

The thing is, Itadori is cute as fuck. 10/10 would tap that, any day of any week.

It’s not that Fushiguro has a type or anything, but Itadori just ticks all his boxes. When Todo had bullheadedly asked him what kind of person he likes, he’d said anyone with a strong moral compass that doesn’t waver in their resolve.

That’s Itadori in a nutshell.

Also, doesn’t hurt that he’s like, stupidly hot either. His raw physical prowess is reflected on his body in the form of shapely muscles, hard abs, and wide forearms that look like they could pick Fushiguro up and just throw him like a javelin. They actually can- Itadori had to do it for a mission this one time. Fushiguro enjoyed it immensely, and he will take this information with him to his grave.

So, not only is Itadori attractive and strong and of good character, but he’s also hella friendly. Fushiguro knows he’s not the easiest person to befriend- it takes a while for him to warm up to people, to share things about himself, to talk about the shitshow that is his family, but Itadori does not seem to give a single, flying fuck. He walks into Fushiguro’s life with the strength and ease of someone that just believes they belong. And Fushiguro lets him, because he is, as Kugisaki very accurately put it, a complete and utter homosexual disaster.

But it’s fine. Crushes happen all the time, and Fushiguro knows it’s hopeless and that’s ok. He knows Itadori likes him and cherishes their friendship, and that is enough. It will be. He’ll move on, and they’ll laugh about it in a few years (if they survive) and it’ll be great. In the meantime, he’s going to hole up in his room and read non-fiction books and stay away from pink hair and large toothy smiles.

Of course, the first person to fuck up his plans is Itadori.

It’s Saturday night, and dinner had been a simple meal of rice, miso soup and some sides made by Itadori. He’s a really good cook, and the home food is such a welcome change from the bento boxes Fushiguro normally picks up from the convenience store. Sometimes, Itadori will drag Fushiguro into the kitchen to teach him a thing or two, and Fushiguro learns, and pines, and smacks Itadori when he says something especially idiotic. It’s routine. It’s nice.

Dinner was an hour ago, and now he’s just curled up in bed with his book. It’s shaping up to be a typical weekend, which is nice considering the number of missions they picked up last week. His bones are aching a little, his feet are slightly sore, and he knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight.

He hears the knock even though it’s a bit soft. Fushiguro sits up and cocks his head. Was he imagining it?

And then there’s another knock, more confident. Thud thud thud.

Fushiguro climbs out of bed, setting his book aside carefully. He stretches his hands over his head and walks over to the door. ‘Coming.’

He swings it open, and he sees pink hair and his heart just sort of beats out of his chest.

‘Hiya.’ Itadori’s smile is wide, trusting, and full of gusto. He holds a packet of chips in one hand and a laptop in the other.  

‘What’s up?’

‘Are you busy?’

He should say he is. If he says he’s busy, then he doesn’t have to let Itadori in and he can continue with Operation: get over Itadori Yuuji. It’s the most logical move.

‘No, why do you ask?’ Well, apparently his brain has detached from his mouth.

‘Well, I overheard you telling Kugisaki that you’ve never seen the Saw movies and I realized something. Something terrible.’

Fushiguro tenses. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I can’t be best friends with someone that’s never seen Saw.’ Itadori pouts cutely, and Fushiguro is this close to just walking off the face of the Earth. He leans into the door frame, needing the additional support.

‘And I don’t want anyone else to be my best friend. So, the only solution is to make you watch Saw! With me! Like, right now.’

Fushiguro feels so much all at once- he wants to pull Itadori into a hug, he wants to jump off his balcony, he wants to slam the door shut and just cry, and he wants to watch stupid movies with this stupid man.

‘If you get crumbs on my bed, I’m going to kick you in the stomach.’

Itadori beams, and Fushiguro is a lost cause.

There’s a bit of adjusting (Fushiguro, your pillows are too hard, let me go grab mine) and a bit of remodelling (What do you mean we can’t make a blanket fort, that’s literally half the movie experience) and after relenting to a weird half-assed tent structure, the two of them huddle on the bed, backs against the wall, laptop placed on a chair by their feet with a bag of chips between them.

Saw is a terrible movie.

There’s gore and screaming and a creepy dude running around and it’s honestly just horrendous. The main character calls himself Jigsaw, and Fushiguro is tempted to flip the laptop after the hundredth blood spill. He looks over at Itadori who’s completely engrossed, eyes reflecting the colours and flashes of light on the screen. It’s cute, the concentration he’s pouring into it. His hand is stuck in the bag of chips and Fushiguro smacks it away to grab a few of his own.

Fushiguro does his best to watch and gets into it at least a little. It’s bad, but it’s not the worst way to spend a weekend night. He admits that a huge reason why the experience is kinda fun is that he’s doing something with Itadori that isn't life-threatening, which is a refreshing change.

The end credits start rolling and Itadori stretches his arms, fingers pushing through the droopy tent roof.

‘What did you think?’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

Itadori laughs. ‘I know what you mean. It grows on you though.’

‘There’s more?’

Itadori looks at him, blinks, cocks his head. ‘You didn’t know?’

Fushiguro shrugs. ‘I’ve never been a movie buff, so I have no information on this.’

‘Fushiguro.’

‘What?’

‘There’s 9 movies.’

Fushiguro’s mouth drops. ‘What?’

‘Yup, there’s nine in total, and the tenth one is in the making.’

‘Holy shit, that’s a lot of movies in one franchise.’

‘Yup. And we’re watching all of them.’

Fushiguro’s eyes widen. ‘What? No way. Nope. Not a chance. I can’t handle more of this, it was barely tolerable.’

‘It doesn’t matter! It’s the principle of the thing- you’ve started the series so you might as well see it through.’

‘9 movies? How can they possibly have enough content for that?’

‘It’s what they do. I promise it gets better and worse.’

Fushiguro sighs. ‘I’m not getting out of this, am I?’

Itadori pushes into his shoulder playfully. ‘Nope. I’m getting more snacks next time, let’s do two movies.’

Fushiguro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s really struggling to pretend like he’s upset with this development. He’s not upset. He’s honestly anything but.

---

Itadori comes back next Saturday with some blankets and a pillow tucked under one arm and a laptop in the other. He has a grocery bag with chips and sour patch kids hanging between his teeth and he still manages to smile. Fushiguro is so done.

‘Are you a dog?’ he grumbles, plucking the bag out of his face and setting it by the bed. Itadori gets to work immediately, setting up the pillows and his sad excuse for a blanket fort while Fushiguro brings a bowl for the chips and candy. Once they’ve settled in, Itadori starts the second movie and Fushiguro resigns himself to his fate.  

It’s really not that bad.

The movie is whatever, Fushiguro tunes in and out, alternating between watching the screen and sneaking looks at Itadori. He’s as engrossed as ever, and the tip of his tongue is sticking out in concentration and it’s so cute it makes Fushiguro want to curl up in his lap and squish him.

He’s crushing hard. Like, really hard. It’s about the gayest thing he’s ever experienced.

The movie pushes on, and they start to get more comfortable. Itadori isn’t a talker, which is surprising and nice, but when the movie lulls, he does make a joke or two. They sink lower into the bed, and by the end of the movie, they’re firmly pressed into each other from shoulder to thigh, with the bowl of chips on Fushiguro’s lap and the candy in Itadori’s.

Itadori is really warm. Could be his natural body heat, could be the king of curses residing within him, could be Fushiguro’s imagination- who’s to say at this point?

When the credits roll, Itadori stretches again like a cat in the sun, groaning his satisfaction. Fushiguro rubs his temples and wills away his blush.

‘What did you think?’

‘Not terrible, but honestly, what the fuck?’

‘That pretty much sums up the franchise.’

Itadori loads up the next movie while Fushiguro stays in position, comfortable. When he’s done, he leans back and makes himself comfortable against Fushiguro’s side, head leaning against his shoulder, his cheek pressed against bone. He looks smooshed, and it’s ridiculous.

If he gave a single shit about the movie, he’d ask him to move because he’s so far gone now there’s no way he’d pay attention at all.

Fushiguro doesn’t say a word, just sends up a silent prayer that Itadori remains there, pushed into him and all up in his space, for the rest of the evening.

That’s exactly what he does.

---

Fushiguro’s feet are burning.

The soles are achy all over, tender and jolty. Any time he walks, he suppresses a hiss of pain. When he’d taken a look, the entire sole was an angry red, and he’s just so annoyed.

The week had been tough- tons of running around and multiple search and rescue missions and this one tenacious curse that he and Itadori had to chase for several miles before finally exorcising it. By the end of it all, his feet were burning like a low fire in the pits of hell.

Itadori is fine, as always. It’s probably an incredible combination of his own inherent athleticism and lord dipshit within him, but Itadori heals at an accelerated pace, and like, he came back from the dead. Sore feet would be nothing to this guy.

When Itadori knocks on the door as always, an hour after Saturday night dinner, Fushiguro just calls out, ‘Come in.’ He really doesn’t want to walk to the door, so he’d left it open intentionally.

Itadori struggles to open the door on his own, arms filled with so much stuff it’s overflowing everywhere, and that horribly lovely smile is still stretched across his face and Fushiguro is just so smitten it’s ridiculous.

Itadori throws a few pillows in his direction, places a frankly ridiculous amount of snacks at the foot of the bed, and starts building his fort. Fushiguro is yet to help him with this, to actually put in any effort and make it with him rather than just watch him with a bemused smirk, but part of him knows that if he joins in, he’s admitting to something. He’s admitting that he’s invested. That he likes this as much as Itadori, probably so much more. That he likes Itadori so much, it’s all-consuming.

Itadori gives him the laptop while he makes some finishing touches on the fort, and he’s gotten better over the last few weeks. The tent is less saggy, with more room to move around and its range is expanding. It no longer covers just the bed, it extends to his desk and is inching towards his closet. Itadori is taking over his room, his heart, his brain, his life. He keeps taking and taking and taking, and Fushiguro just gives him more, happily, heartbreakingly, with all the love and nonchalance and patience he can muster.

He’s so whipped he’s giving Kugisaki a headache. She’s told him as much, repeatedly.

He’s got the final Saw movie prepped and ready to go, positioning the laptop on the chair as usual. Itadori grabs the bowls and decants their snacks before sitting next to Fushiguro, his head automatically resting on the man’s shoulders. Fushiguro rests his head on Itadori’s soft pink hair, breathing in the scent of the shampoo Itadori always steals from Kugisaki, and muffles a laugh. It’s so silly.

They’re about mid-way through the movie (by movie 9 there’s no milking the plot, it’s them just beating a dead horse ruthlessly) when Fushiguro shifts his legs and his feet bump into the chair, and he bites out a yelp of pain. Itadori sits up immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

‘You ok?’

Fushiguro waves him down, wincing. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’

‘Did you stub your toe? That’s one of the worst feelings ever. And I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest. And lost an arm. And I’ve been stabbed repeatedly. Amongst other things.’

‘I didn’t stub my toe. And also, what the fuck, are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ Itadori laughs easily. ‘Seriously, what’s wrong?’

‘My feet hurt,’ Fushiguro admits with a defeated sigh. ‘We’ve been moving about a lot, and after that pineapple fucker two days ago, my feet have just gotten really sore. I soaked them in hot water a few hours ago, I think I should be fine by Monday.’

Itadori eyes him suspiciously.

‘I’m not lying dumbass. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this horrible movie over with.’

Itadori hums, turning back to the screen. A minute later, he looks over at Fushiguro.

‘Well, I’m going to apologize for this in advance.’

‘Apologize for wh- HEY!’

Itadori, with his stupidly inhumane strength, yanks Fushiguro’s legs off the edge of the bed and right into his lap. Fushiguro is now laying down with his head resting against the headboard, and he’s about to kick out when Itadori just digs his thumbs into the arch of his feet and Fushiguro narrowly stops himself from moaning obscenely.

He has died and ascended. His soul is no longer in this realm of existence. It has found peace. The meaning of life. Attained nirvana. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s seriously that good.

Because Itadori is strong. He’s really strong, so his movements are sure and deep. His thumbs are pushing against the arch, into the heel of his foot, pushing into that junction where his toes meld into the sole, and it’s so damn good. Fushiguro squirms.

‘How are you- ah shit, right there -how are you so good at this?’

Itadori throws him an easy smile. ‘Used to massage grandpa’s feet all the time. Became an expert over time, especially because I had a lot of his nurses guiding me as well. Is it ok?’

Fushiguro tries to throw him a deadpan look but then Itadori’s thumbs just push into a particularly sore spot and Fushiguro’s eyes roll back into his skull. When he’s able to pull himself together, he looks at the pink-haired man, feeling breathless.

‘It feels great. If you tell a single soul, I will drop kick you.’

Itadori’s laugh is loud and boisterous, and it fills the room completely, saturates it with this feeling of ease and honesty.

‘This stays here, no worries. Like a Las Vegas thing.’

Fushiguro smiles at the stupid reference.

After a few minutes pass by, Fushiguro reluctantly starts pulling his feet away. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he starts to say. Itadori wraps his fingers around his ankles, holding him in place.

‘I can honestly do this for hours, it’s fine. You can see the screen, right?’ Fushiguro nods immediately. ‘So, let’s just keep watching. I’ll stop if I’m tired, ok?’

Fushiguro relents without a fight because it’s the most relief he’d gotten in ages, and Itadori is touching him and he’s weak in every possible way and he lets himself be. Just this once.

They finish the movie (thank goodness it’s over) and Itadori continues to massage his feet as they discuss what the 10th movie could possibly be like. They discuss theories and plot holes, and Itadori doesn’t let go, his hands inching up and massaging his calves as well, and fuck if Fushiguro’s going to stop him because it feels good. He’s gay and Itadori is hot and his fingers are actual magic- like, they put sorcery to shame.

When it’s well past midnight and Itadori yawns a few times, Fushiguro finally sits up, pulling his feet out of Itadori’s grasp. The pink-haired man lets his hands linger for as long as possible, and Fushiguro decides he’s just imagining it. Surely.

‘I kinda, I mean, I want to repay you for that. You massaged me for hours, you know.’

Itadori pretends to think for a second before breaking into a bright, 100-megawatt smile.

‘Well then, let’s watch more movies! Let’s just make this movie night! We can watch stuff you look up as well, we can watch anything.’

Fushiguro stares at him, stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that and truth be told, he was really sad the Saw franchise was over because he assumed that would be the end of this, and he was too shy to ask what Itadori was so easily asking him. To see Itadori so excited at the prospect of an actual movie night, with no end in sight, made his heart leap and throb and squeeze. It was incredible.

‘Deal.’ He keeps his voice level and his face neutral, but he can’t hide his eyes and Itadori reads him in a second and his smile softens. He knows him so well now, like the back of his hand.

Itadori bids him a soft goodnight, collecting his stuff and shuffling back to his room slowly. Fushiguro falls asleep quickly, and it's deep and dreamless.

He wakes up to painless feet. It’s a miracle in every single way.

---

When Itadori gently pulls his feet into his lap the next weekend, Fushiguro doesn’t bother protesting it. He just gives him a slightly exasperated sigh, a soft smile and hits play.

They’ve decided to pick up the How to train your dragon franchise this time, as a welcome change of pace.

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s honestly all in the title. It’s about dragons and Vikings and it’s funny and it has great music!’ Itadori lights up while talking about it, and his energy is so damn contagious. Fushiguro feels himself getting hyped. ‘I think you’ll like it. Especially since you have those cool Shikigamis, you might relate to this more!’

Fushiguro hums, and they watch. Fushiguro routinely pushes pieces of chips and sour candy into Itadori’s mouth, and Itadori’s fingers become well-acquainted with the planes and bumps and grooves of his feet, and the shape of his calves.

Fushiguro gets really into the movie.

Not only is the animation top-notch, but the voice actors are great, the storyline is gripping, and Toothless is so childish and sweet and endearing, his heart aches with love. He barely pays attention to Itadori this time. He seems just as invested, even if it’s the hundredth time he’s rewatching it.

To Fushiguro’s surprise, he chokes up at the end, after the big battle. The whole scene feels strangely familiar in some ways, and he tries desperately to hide his growing discomfort. He peaks over at Itadori and his eyes widen.

Itadori is swallowing hard, his eyes shining and glistening with unshed tears. His grip on Fushiguro is tight as hell, but not painful. He’s barely holding on, it seems.

So Fushiguro looks away, and lets himself feel. He doesn’t cry, but it’s damn near the same feeling.

Itadori’s knowing smirk is as annoying as it is stupidly kissable.

‘You seemed to enjoy that!’

‘It was decent. Much better than all the Saw movies combined.’

Itadori barks out a laugh. ‘Decent, he says. I saw you nearly crying through my own tears. And you were glued to the screen. Such a liar.’

Fushiguro relents. ‘Fine, it was really good. I’m hooked, and I cant wait to see the other 2 movies.’

‘You know I’ll be here.’

Fushiguro is helpless against his blush. He barely hides it in the crook of his elbow. Itadori’s fingers are still pressing into his feet and it’s all so much but not enough. His heart still aches.

‘And the next two movies are visual masterpieces. Can’t wait to get into it all!’

Fushiguro nods, and with the promise of next week, he sleeps just a little easier.

---

When Itadori pulls his feet into his lap three weeks in a row, Fushiguro decides it’s time he does more to repay the pink-haired man. It’s definitely not enough to just grace Itadori with his presence and with a weekly movie night.

So, when they come together to watch the third and final How to train your dragon movie, Fushiguro stands in his room, chewing his lower lip anxiously. He feels like he may have gone overboard, and he’s more scared of being found out by Itadori, about his feelings and his hopelessly ginormous crush and just how big of a complete and utter disaster he is than anything else.

Before he can take it down though, Itadori walks in after a quick knock and a shout of Pardon the intrusion but not reaaallllyyyy.

He walks in, snack bag in his mouth, arms holding way too much stuff, and gives Fushiguro a grin before turning to the bed to start his usual set-up routine. That’s when he stops dead on his feet, and Fushiguro at least enjoys the look of complete and utter shock on his face. The snack bag drops to the ground before Fushiguro can catch it with a loud thunk.

So, here’s a fun fact about Fushiguro- he can build insane blanket forts. No, really, you don’t understand, he could be mistaken for an architect because that’s how good he is. And the reason is a bit long and a bit complicated, but it mostly has to do with his sister. When they were left all alone in the world, sharing a small space just between the two of them, they would build blanket forts with all the stuff lying around the house, and within those sheets, they were shielded from the world and all its horrors. They did it for a long time, and it was their tradition. They got better at it over the years, learning what sheets worked best, what make-shift supports held things up at the right height, where to place the pillows.

The minute Fushiguro started to put the fort together, his muscle memory kicked in and took it from there. It brought forth some memories that made him choke up, but he focused on Itadori, and it helped. He adjusted the height to accommodate two growing boys instead of two tiny humans, and before he knew it, the fort had sprawled to encompass his entire room. He borrowed pillows from Inumaki and Panda, who were willing albeit slightly perplexed, and he grabbed Kugisaki’s fairy lights to really spruce things up. The weather had gotten colder, so he had also laid out his thick duvet for them to slip under, and the icing on the cake was the pizza he had ordered. Itadori always bought the snacks, so he wanted to pull his own weight. Also, they were active jujutsu sorcerers- they may have eaten dinner an hour ago, but they were always hungry. It was endless.

Itadori remains rooted in place, and Fushiguro starts to get nervous. A bit anxious. A bit scared. What if it is too much? Had he overstepped in some way? Or what if Itadori looked forward to building the fort and Fushiguro had taken that away from him?

Itadori slowly looks at him, eyes piercing and unreadable and bright.

And then he smiles. The world rights itself a little.

And he smiles big, huge, all-encompassing. Its lips stretched over white teeth and his eyes are crinkling in that really lovely way and the dimples are dotting his cheeks and its utter magic.

‘Fushi,’ Itadori gushes, almost breathless. ‘This is insane. How the hell did you do this?’

Fushiguro bites his lip. ‘You like it?’

‘Like? Fushi, dude, my man, my guy, like doesn’t begin to cover it! I don’t have better words cause I’m kind of an idiot, but it’s. Like. A+. 11/10. I’m so impressed right now.’

And now Fushiguro is smiling with him, stomach flopping around endlessly, and he’s young and in love and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

‘I also got pizza,’ Fushiguro gestures to the table behind him, picking the snack bag off the floor and placing it by the bed. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got the same thing you ordered when I was sick.’

Itadori happily bounds over to the box and leans in for a sniff.

‘I love this stuff, it’s yum. And it’s still steaming, all fresh and hot.’ Itadori gives him a big thumbs-up. ‘This is so bomb Fushi, thank you so much!’

Fushiguro almost says No thank you, you’ve been doing so much for our movie nights and I wanted to show you how grateful I am for you and for all of this and I love you so please take my heart and just keep it, I really don’t need it, you know?

What he says instead is, ‘Not a problem. Shall we set up?’

And so, 10 minutes later finds them curled up in their usual spots, except this time they’re under the covers. Fushiguro places all the food between them, and Itadori alternates between massaging his feet (which he cleans meticulously before their movie nights because he doesn’t want Itadori to eat with dirty feet hands) and taking bites of pizza and smiling and laughing and choking up at the movie.

The trilogy ends and Fushiguro can honestly see why Itadori has watched this countless times. It’s just that good.

If Itadori hears him sniffle, he doesn’t say a word. Just squeezes his calf and runs his fingers from his knees to his ankles and Fushiguro realizes, in that moment, that a part of him will always belong to this man.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. They’ve now finished the Saw franchise, the HTTYD trilogy, the Batman trilogy, and the entire Annabelle series. If Fushiguro didn’t hate dolls before, well, now the thought of them sends shivers up his spine. And he fights curses. For a living.

Life is weird.

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Sometimes it’s Sunday night instead, or Friday. Sometimes it’s earlier in the day, in the afternoon maybe. Sometimes, it’s really late at night, so late that by the time they’re done, it’s already 3am and the world is silent. The world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of Fushiguro’s room, and he’s ok with that.

On those nights, Itadori stays over.

They curl up on his bed together, not quite touching but not quite not touching. It’s a single bed and they’re not small by any means. The touching is inevitable. Fushiguro wonders if any part of it is voluntary.

He learns that Itadori’s toes are always warm, unlike Fushiguro’s. He’s a surprisingly calm sleeper. His sleep-heavy voice is deep, and his sleep-heavy smile is soft.

They fall asleep facing away from one another, they wake up spooning or being spooned. They don’t say a word. And they don’t stop.

The night that they finish the latest Annabelle movie, Itadori looks insanely freaked out and Fushiguro doesn’t blame him. That shit’s creepy as hell.

The problem is that it’s only 00:14. Too early for them to call for a sleepover unprompted.

Itadori’s got Fushiguro’s legs in his lap, and he’s pursing his lips as if deep in thought. Fushiguro thinks fuck it.

‘Do you want to stay over?’

The relief flows off Itadori in waves. ‘You’re an actual lifesaver, you know that right?’

Fushiguro smirks, and they throw snarky comments back and forth between them as they get ready for bed. Itadori brings his toothbrush and they clean up side by side, fighting for the mirror. They take the fort down methodically, like a well-oiled machine, and they curl up under the duvet, touching but not quite touching, facing away from one another.

15 minutes later, Fushiguro feels Itadori curled around him, legs tangled and arm carefully slipped over his middle. He feels him shake, and he can taste the hesitation and he knows Itadori will move away soon because they both know they’re both awake.

He moves his hand lower and places it over Itadori’s. He squeezes it once, and moves it away, and evens out his breathing. He feels himself drifting off, and the last thing he feels is Itadori’s arm curling around him just a little tighter, holding him just a little closer. The air tastes less hesitant, more hopeful.

It’s wonderfully frightening.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Until one day, they do.

The thing about Sukuna is that he’s the King of Curses, Lord Asshat extraordinaire, and an overall terrible being. Not only does he reside in Itadori rent-free, he also chooses when to heal him and when to watch from the sidelines as blood gushes out of wounds that are near-fatal. Itadori’s pain tolerance is impossibly high, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain.

Itadori feels everything. He feels so much, so willingly, so wholeheartedly. He’s a feeler.

And so, when one of their missions go haywire (as always), Itadori risks his life for his classmates (as always), and is left on the verge of death (as always). The only difference being he doesn’t improve. At least not at that inhumane pace that he always does.

He’s not dead, but he’s not in the world of the living either. He’s drifting somewhere in between, and Fushiguro feels like he’s drowning. He can’t get enough air; he can’t see beyond the murky waters that are darker than ink.

Fushiguro is in the in-house hospital on campus and he rarely, if ever, leaves Itadori’s side. The incident took place on a Tuesday and it is now Saturday. Itadori’s vitals are stable, his heart is in his chest, beating, and his blood is circulating and oxygenating him.

He does not wake up, he does not speak, and he does not smile.

Something in Fushiguro’s chest cracks.

People come by to visit all the time. Nobara brings snacks and chats with Itadori like he’s ok, like he’ll respond. Only Fushiguro hears the tremor in her voice. Maki holds back from smacking someone in a coma, vowing to get him good when he’s awake for doing something so monumentally dumb. Gojo flits in and out as often as he can, and he always squeezes Fushiguro’s shoulder with a tightness that eases his chest just a little before leaving again.

After dinner on Saturday, Fushiguro decides to do something.

He lets himself into Itadori’s room- messy but not sloppy, and simple. He finds his laptop on his desk and charges it for a bit before taking it back with him. He doesn’t set up a blanket fort, simple loads up a Christopher Nolan movie that they’d decided on last week and lets it play.

He holds Itadori’s hand the entire time. It doesn’t squeeze back.

The crack in his chest widens.

---

He’s not there when Itadori wakes up.

Gojo had pushed him out of the room to go take a shower and grab a proper meal and maybe even take a nap, and Fushiguro had relented to two of the three- showering and eating. With a belly full of terrible convenience store food that could never hope to hold a candle to Itadori’s meals, Fushiguro slowly makes his way back to the infirmary when he hears voices. One voice, in particular, stops him in his tracks.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘My mouth tastes like ass.’

It’s one of the first things Itadori has said in a week and a half, and something between a laugh and a sob gets stuck in Fushiguro’s chest. He moves to yank the door open and throw himself at Itadori when he hears-

‘Where’s Fushi?’

‘Oh, he went to take a shower, clean up a little, all that.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Fuck, he sounds disappointed.

‘Don’t look so upset.’ Gojo teases. ‘He hasn’t left your side since you got hurt, you know?’

‘Really?’

Gojo hums. ‘He’s here all day. He tried working for a day or two, but his head wasn’t in it, so we forced him to sit out for a bit. He’s just been keeping you company here, reading, fretting, pining.’

Fushiguro wants to punch Gojo.

Itadori barks out a laugh. It sounds loud and forced and not very happy.

‘Don’t tease me about that sensei. That’s cruel, even for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘I want to be sure. I’m not a mind-reader you know. So tell me,’ Gojo urges, ‘what are you talking about?’

Itadori sighs. It sounds exhausted more than pained. ‘I’ve liked him since the day we fought the curse and saved my senpais. It’s cruel for you to tease me about a one-sided crush.’

Fushiguro is suddenly numb, hot and cold everywhere, and his head is spinning, an echo of ‘I’ve liked him I’ve liked him’ just bouncing around his brain endlessly. He has to force himself to concentrate or risk missing out more of the conversation.

‘I mean, why do you think it’s one-sided?’

‘Are you kidding me? He’s so out of my league, I can’t even think about it. He’s so. Just. Everything good in this world. And he likes dogs sensei, what more could I want in a person?’

Fushiguro’s vision is just swimming and he wants to smother Itadori in a hug and protect him forever. His feet are taking longer to respond to his brain though.

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Gojo sings, laughing. ‘My advice would be to not give up. You’d be good for each other, you know? Also, he’s really not all that perfect. Trust me, I’ve known him since he was a child. This one time, during the spring festival, he-‘

‘Itadori, you’re awake?’

Evidently, his self-preservation instincts had bypassed his brain and forced his legs to move at near inhumane speed. God bless instincts.

Itadori is sitting up, and he looks a bit frail but the color in his cheeks is steadily returning. His eyes widen in surprise before his mouth twists up in a grin so wide Fushiguro is worried he’ll break his face. His eyes are molten, watery, and brighter than the sun.

‘Hi Fushi.’

For once, Fushiguro doesn’t give a two shit flying fuck that Gojo is in the room and will hence tease him for the rest of his life, he just walks over to the bed and gathers Itadori into a hug and holds him there, pressing his warmth into Itadori. There’s the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the smile on his lips pressed into Fushiguro’s shoulder.

The world rights itself on its axis, just a little more.

‘Idiot.’

Itadori’s muffled laugh makes him grin, and he pulls away. He rearranges his face in a scowl.

‘I told you before if you die on me-‘

‘-you’ll kill me yourself. I know, I know. I’m here Fushi, you don’t have to become a murderer. It’s a good day.’

Fushiguro lets his face morph back into a grin before looking over at Gojo. His teacher’s smirk tells him everything- how he knew where Fushiguro was, how he’s seen right through Fushiguro, how he’s going to tease him till the day either of them die. And Fushiguro wants to be annoyed and pissed off but he can’t bring himself to care, not right now.

Itadori’s heart is beating in his chest, and he smiles at Fushiguro, and his cheeks are tinting pink.

Fushiguro’s heart is full.

---

‘Sorry I missed movie night.’

Itadori’s apology is so stupid Fushiguro nearly gwaffs, but that’s undignified as fuck so he settles for a cough and a withering stare.

‘I mean, it’s not like you were in a coma or anything.’

‘You know what I mean! But anyway, I’m here now, so let’s pick up where we left off.’

‘No, we’ll have to move on to the next movie. We watched that one last week.’

‘Huh?’

Fushiguro looks at him, prays he isn’t seven shades of red. ‘Well, I thought maybe if we had a movie night at the infirmary, you’d feel better. Where you were. Especially if you were dealing with lord fuckwad. You know?’

Itadori stares at him in awe and chuckles softly. ‘You’re something else, you know? Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out.’

Gojo’s word reverberate around his skull and Fushiguro just clears his throat. ‘Yeah, well, I’m all about surprising people. Woohoo.’

Itadori bursts out laughing, and they go back to setting up the fort, the pizza, the snacks, the lights, the laptop. It’s easy and familiar and nice. They settle into the mattress, but Fushiguro doesn’t let Itadori take his feet this time, opting to press into his side instead. Itadori barely puts up a fight.

They’re roughly 8 minutes into Interstellar when Itadori asks, ‘How did you set up the movie in the infirmary?’

Fushiguro hums, ‘I grabbed your laptop and put it on a chair to your left. I sat on the right. I sat by your bed and I…’

‘And you?’

Fushiguro should be nervous but he’s not. He’s surprised by how not nervous he is.

‘And I did this.’ He laces their hands together, eyes trained on Itadori's.

It’s like looking at a bowl of liquid amber. His eyes are light brown, bordering on gold, and they’re mesmerizing when you’re this close. He doesn’t look away from Fushiguro, his breath doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t jerk away. He squeezes Fushiguro’s hand with his right one and slowly brings up the left. He rests it on Fushiguro’s jaw, soft skin meeting calloused fingers and there’s a heat building under Fushiguro’s skin that makes him feel that same hot and cold sensation everywhere.

‘I’m going to kiss you.’

Itadori’s voice is deeper than Fushiguro’s ever heard it, low and spicy and sure. His hands are gentle and confident.

Fushiguro doesn’t nod or say Yes or blush.

He just brings his right arm up, wraps it around Itadori’s left wrist and leans in, bringing them together in what is possibly the softest touch of lips ever, in the history of the universe.

It’s not hesitant, it’s just new. And all-encompassing. And maddeningly good. And soft.  

Itadori’s breath hitches and he leans his head, slotting their lips together better and Fushiguro is humming because fucking hell is this good. There’s no tongue, just pressure and nips and small licks and bites. By the end of it, Fushiguro is smiling into Itadori’s smile, and he’s kissing it and nuzzling it and he’s drowning in the best way possible.

Itadori finally pulls away, after several small kisses, and does that beaming smile that makes Fushiguro’s stomach do really terrible things.

‘I can’t believe all this happened because of Saw.’

Fushiguro’s smile shrivels away in a heartbeat and Itadori is laughing and snorting, the bastard.

‘Itadori Yuji.’

More laughter.

‘I swear on all that is good and pure, if you tell people we got together because of Saw, I will dump your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for weeks.’

Itadori laughs some more and presses his giggles against Fushiguro’s lips and dammit he’s so weak and gay.

Itadori’s hand slips down his jaw and cups the back of his neck and he pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together.

‘We both know that’s not true.’

Damn it. He really does know Fushiguro like the back of his hand.

And so he does the only thing he can think of- he kisses him again. And again. And then some more, just because he can.

The movie remains forgotten, and frankly, they couldn’t care less.

[amazingmaeve]

Cardigan ↠ Sirius Black

━ “i’ve missed you darling.”

summary ━ sirius and y/n were in love at hogwarts. then he cheated on her with her best friend marlene. a couple years later the two run into each other again.

warnings ━ angst, fluff, swearing, kissing

a/n ━ somewhat based on cardigan by taylor Swift, also no voldy au so lily and james are alive. Also one huge time jump.

word count ━ 3.6k

“Sirius stop,” Y/N giggles as she thrashes on the bed. Currently Sirius was ticking her as moments before they were studying. She was supposed to be helping him in one of his classes but he got distracted.

Sirius looked down at his girlfriend with a smile appearing on his face. He truly did love Y/N with all of his heart. He began to press kisses all over her face, stopping his tickling.

“You know I hate that,” Y/N says with a smile referring to the tickling. He knew all the spots that would make her break out in a laugh.

Y/N sometimes wondered how she got together with Sirius. Before they met he usually slept around a lot while she wanted to save her virginity for someone important.

They had gotten paired for a charms assignment. Y/N would never admit it she was quite nervous about being with Sirius. She’s had a crush on him since their first year but he never really noticed her as Y/N didn’t like to be noticed. She usually kept to herself.

Except for her best friend Marlene. She helped Y/N and was always nice to her. She gave her the best advice that a friend could even ask for.

When the two started talking they realized that they had much more in common than Y/N thought. She thought Sirius Black was a narcissist fuck boy.

Y/N found out that he was witty, charming, and surprisingly nice to her.

Sirius always thought that Y/N was just some stuck up girl that thought she was too good for anyone. She came from a pureblood family so when she never talked to anyone he thought she was a pureblood supremacist. He found out that Y/N was smart, shy and didn’t like to have friends.

Sirius and Y/N started to enjoy the time they spent together. But the assignment would make them stop having interaction with each other.

Even after the homework they had done Sirius and Y/N decided to hang out more and soon more feelings developed. Y/N, who already had an attraction towards him, started to emotionally connect to him. Sirius, who thought Y/N was already hot, started to sympathize with her and her family problems since he had the same.

Soon Y/N met Remus, James, Peter, and Lily and soon started to connect with one another.

Sirius asked her out after James and Remus encouraged him to do so when the two figured out that his friend had feelings for the girl.

Y/N was on cloud nine when Sirius asked her out for the first time. At first she thought he was just planking her but soon realized he was very serious. With butterflies in her stomach she said yes to his question while a smile graced her lips.

Their first date was at Hogsmeade and it was magical to Y/N. Sirius kept making flirty comments all night making her feel more and more nervous.

The two talked and got to know each other more and at the end of the night Sirius kissed her before parting to their own rooms.

That night Y/N laid down with a dopey smile on her face. She felt the butterflies erupting in her stomach but she didn’t care. She felt like she was falling in love every second.

“I love you darling,” Sirius says softly as he lays on top of Y/N. She can feel the heat rise to her chest and cheeks.

“I love you more,” Y/N laughs her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. She gives him a cheeky smile playing with his hair on the back of his neck.

“Not possible,” Sirius says in disbelief. She was the light to his darkness in his life and he would never trade that.

“Uh how do you know,” Y/N asks as she sits up pulling him to a seating position. Her eyebrows furrowed in stubbornness.

“I just do,” Sirius says cockily and pulls her into a kiss straight after.

After the kiss she lays her head on his chest. Sirius pulls her hand to his intertwining their fingers.

They just lay there with Y/N on Sirius’s chest in a comfortable silence. His heartbeat calmed her down as she fell asleep on the boy's chest. Once realizing she’s asleep, Sirius kisses her forehead before attempting to leave her bed.

Only he couldn’t. Y/N had such a grip on him which made him stay. Sirius wrapped his arms around her and eventually fell asleep himself.

A few weeks later Y/N was alone in her bed wrapped in the blankets since it was especially cold. She let out a sigh as she rested her head on the pillow.

The night before the Gryffindors had thrown a party where everyone was drinking from the victory of the quidditch match. It wasn’t that much fun to Y/N.

Her and Sirius were supposed to have a date that night and she understood going to the party. But she’d expect him to at least talk to her that night.

Sirius spent most of the night talking and laughing to his friends. Y/N also saw him flirting with her best friend Marlene and she yelled at them before storming to her bed room.

She laid down and cried herself to sleep.

Now as she lays on her bed she might have blown things out of proportion. Maybe they were just talking and Y/N was just extremely jealous. Making something out of nothing she thought to herself.

She got up and got ready for her classes. It was early but Y/N wanted to go and see Sirius and apologize to him before classes began. She didn’t want her relationship with Sirius to be over because of one little spat.

Y/N treads across the floor to the boys room hoping that the other marauders were awake and somewhere else. Luckily she saw them walk to the main hall avoiding eye contact. That made her confused but she shook it off.

She sighed as she touched the door handle. She didn’t know what to say to him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be a jealous girlfriend’ would that work? Hopefully she thought.

Y/N turned the door knob with a smile to greet Sirius with. The smile quickly faded as she noticed someone else in the bed with him.

“Sirius,” Y/N snapped loudly as the boy was still sleeping. He groaned cuddling into the girl even more making Y/N more and more angry. Once she got a look at the girl Y/N scoffed as she saw Marlene.

“Go away prongs I’m tired,” Sirius groaned thinking it was James.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Sirius,” Y/N yelled louder, her voice full of anger seeing the boy she was in love with and one of her best friends in bed. She had mixed emotions, sadness and anger were the main ones.

Y/N could see Sirius' eyes widen in shock as he realizes he’s not cuddling with the girl he’s in love with. And the girl who has his heart is standing at the foot of the bed with anger written on her face.

Marlene and Sirius move apart noticing the girl.

“Love this isn’t-,” Sirius began to defend himself and got his boxers on but was soon interrupted. Meanwhile Marlene got her clothes on and left knowing the two need to talk.

“Stop,” Y/N snaps. Her voice is harsh which makes Sirius flinch at the tone. “I just want to know one thing,” She asks, her voice dripping in sadness.

Sirius’s eyes stay on his lap not wanting to meet her gaze. He most importantly didn’t want to see the tears that were gonna form.

“Did you ever even love me,” She asks, feeling drained. That question makes Sirius’s head snap up and pull himself to his feet.

“Of course I do love, I do still love you,” Sirius admits, walking over to put his hands on her cheek. She moves her face away from his hands which makes his face sadden even more.

“I can’t believe that I was gonna apologize for being a jealous girlfriend. Turns out my instincts were right,” Y/N bites her lip to keep her tears in. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Sirius tries to reassure getting his school clothes on.

“We’re done,” Y/N snaps as she walks out of the room slamming the door making Sirius flinch again.

Sirius sighs and sits on his bed putting his hand in his face as tears gather. He didn’t mean for it to happen. It was just one drunken mistake.

When Y/N yelled at him he thought a good idea was to sleep with Marlene. That was his drunken reasoning. He can’t believe he did this. He hurt the person he most cares about and he can’t even do anything about it.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. He ruined everything.

The rest of the day went by slow since Y/N had all of her classes with Sirius. It was hard seeing him and not talking to him. Marlene tried apologizing multiple times but Y/N shut it down not wanting to hear anymore excuses.

After a long day of school and avoiding people she realized that it was close to the end of her last year which was good. But the thought of not seeing Sirius still made her sad but quickly shut those thoughts.

She couldn’t keep thinking of Sirius. It hurt to think but Y/N was still in love with him which made some tears start to fall.

Luckily she was in the common room and most people were at Hogsmeade celebrating the end of the year. Y/N was happy since she took her N.E.W.T.s, which was hard since she took 8 of them, but she got significantly good grades. Even the good news of that didn’t make her feel any better.

She sat on the sofa putting her head in her hands letting the tears finally fall. She hated Sirius so much but Y/N couldn’t just stop loving him. He was in her life for a year and she can’t just erase that as much as she’d like to.

As Y/N quietly sobs into her hands Remus enters the room wanting to turn in for the night. But he stopped in his tracks as he saw her crying.

Remus knew the reason Y/N was crying. He cursed his best friend for breaking her heart and doing this to her.

He sighed and walked around to the couch to sit next to her. Remus opened his arms out for her. She accepts and lunges into his open arms crying into his chest.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Remus reassures using his fingers to put some of her hair behind her ear. She continues to cry through the heartbreak, her arms right around his waist.

“It hurts so much,” Y/N sniffles leaning up from his chest. Her eyes puffy and wet from the sobbing. “I thought he loved me.”

“He does, I know it,” Remus reassures her sternly. He knows Sirius screwed everything but Remus also knows that Sirius loves her and it was a mistake.

“He cheated on me. He broke my heart, my trust. How can you defend him,” Y/N looks at him in disbelief. When her and Sirius got together, he knew that she was a virgin and wanted to wait for someone who was special. And Y/N thought Sirius was that guy and she was going to let him.

Luckily she didn’t.

“He’s my best friend of course I’m going to defend him, but I’m not going to let him get a free ride for screwing up,” Remus explains softly and Y/N gets up as she scoffs.

“I can’t forgive him I just can’t,” Y/N whispers before walking away from Remus leaving him to think all alone.

Soon the ending of the year came and just like that four years passed.

For the last four years Y/N got a job as curse breaker and enjoyed the job. Other than that she didn’t do much, she didn’t have any friends except from work. She never got a boyfriend not trusting any guy that could potentially break her heart.

For a little while she kept in touch with James, Lily, and Remus. But soon enough they stopped calling so Y/N focused on her work.

Oftentimes she wondered what Sirius was doing, she also wondered what it would be like if he didn’t cheat on her. Would things be different? Would they be together? This is what Y/N usually thought about at night.

She shook those thoughts out thinking Sirius probably found a girlfriend and moved on. Y/N always thought she could move on but the wound Sirius left was big and no one could heal it so far.

So Y/N gave up on love at the moment.

After a long day at work she enters her flat. She stretches her arms and yawns, it was a hard day at work and very tiring. She sits on her bed and notices a note on the table besides her bed.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She reached her arm out to grab it and opened it. As Y/N read the letter she sighed as the words flowed in her mind.

A fucking reunion.

A reunion for all the people at Hogwarts and it was at Lily and James potters house. Y/N sat there for a few minutes contemplating on what to do. This could let her reunite with her teachers who were always proud of her. But on the other hand Sirius was probably going to be there and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

She puts the letter down and runs her fingers through her fingers getting some of the tiny knots out. Fuck it she thinks. She’ll go. It’s a risk but hopefully it’ll be fun.

A few weeks later Y/N stands in front of James and Lily’s house straightening her dress out. The last weeks were stressful but luckily work kept her busy most of the time. At night she thinks, what will I do if I see Sirius. Run the opposite direction suggests to herself but rolls her eyes thinking she’s crazy for talking to herself.

She tried making herself look presentable and hopefully succeeded. She sighed as she raised her hand to knock on the door. It took a few minutes before someone answered and that someone was the one and only Sirius Black.

His smile soon faded as he saw who was at the door. In her head this was the worst luck that could have ever happened to her.

“Can I come in,” Y/N asks as politely as she can. Sirius nods opening the door wider to let the girl inside. As soon as she’s in she gets as far away from him as possible.

“Y/N you made it,” Lily says surprised as Y/N runs into her.

“Yep thought I might show up,” Y/N says awkwardly rocking on her heels. She shouldn’t have come think to herself. “Well I’ve got to use the toilet,” She says before running off to the bathroom.

She locks the door with a sigh. Y/N looks at herself in the mirror. She’s already ran into two people she didn’t want to see. This night couldn’t get any worse.

She takes a seat on the toilet rubbing her fingers through her hair feeling stressed out. God it’s going to be a long night. Before she leaves the bathroom she redos her makeup so it looks better after messing it up.

Once she opens the door she paints a smile on her face to pretend she wasn’t having a freak out moment.

For the rest of the night she avoids the marauders by talking to some teachers who wanted to know what she was doing now. And Y/N thought that was it nothing interesting was going to happen that night.

How wrong was she.

Y/N thought she should apologize to Lily for being so flighty so she looks through the rooms to see if the redhead is anywhere. What she finds is worse.

She opens a door to this room and sees Sirius making out with Marlene.

“Oh god I’m so sorry,” Y/N gasps running out of the room. Of course they got together. They would be a much better couple than they ever did.

Y/N knows she shouldn’t be upset. Her and Sirius were broken up; she can’t feel like this. Hopefully they’ll work out better than her and Sirius ever did.

After that Y/N couldn’t be there anymore. She didn’t want to talk to Sirius and it to be awkward so she left and apparated to her flat, she got her heels off. They were killing her feet all night and she sighs in relief as they come off.

She gets her sweat pants and t-shirt on and gets settled into bed processing everything that went on that night. Sirius and Marlene come to mind. Instead of being spiteful she hopes they have a good life and that she can finally move on from Sirius and be happy herself.

In the next week Lily calls surprising Y/N. She didn’t think Lily would like to talk to her after her and Sirius were over.

They scheduled a lunch at her house to talk and catch up since they couldn’t at the party. Y/N couldn’t say no, Lily was being so nice to her and she didn’t want to be a bitch.

“I can’t believe you have a kid,” Y/N happily laughs as she sees Lily with her son Harry. He was only a few months old.

“I can’t either, life goes on so fast,” Lily smiles, kissing the top of Harry’s head as he sits in her lap. “Now that you know what I’ve been up to, what have you been doing these past four years,” She asks curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Well I became a curse breaker,” Y/N fiddles with her fingers in her lap.

“Anyone special in your life,” Lily asks, taking a sip of her tea. Y/N sighs not wanting to say what a colossal failure her love life has been.

“Nothing much haven’t caught a guy's heart,” Y/N half jokes with a laugh. “But I just want to focus on my job,” She says in a more serious tone, looking Lily in her green orbs.

“Sirius asks about you,” Lily brings up the boy.

“I don’t understand why I saw him making out with Marlene at the party,” Y/N asks confused, why would Sirius ask about her when he’s dating someone else.

“They aren’t dating, it's just a friends with benefits thing,” Lily corrects. After Sirius broke Y/N’s heart she was mad at him for some time but soon realized that he knew what mistake he made. Lily knows he still loves Y/N, he just made a mistake.

Before Y/N could say anything, the door to the house opened as booming laughter came through the halls.

“Lily sweetheart-,” James calls out, entering the room and stops talking after seeing Y/N sitting there. Sirius and Remus follow soon after and Sirius can feel his heart stop as he sees Y/N sitting there.

An awkward silence flows across the room as Y/N keeps her eyes on the ground not wanting to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“We’ll give you some space,” Lily says comfortingly, taking baby Harry with her. When Remus or James don’t follow Lily comes back and hits them on the back of their heads. “Now,” Lily says sternly.

“I thought you loved me,” James says sarcastically following his love with Remus following him chuckling at his friend.

As soon as the three leaves Sirius makes his way towards the couch sitting next to Y/N whose eyes are still watching the ground. Sirius put his hand on hers the one on the couch.

“What do you want Sirius,” Y/N asks, tears gathering in her eyes. Sirius gives her hand a squeeze making her look up. He removes his hand from hers to put it on her cheek wiping the one tear that fell away.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius apologizes.

“Sirius it’s been years you don’t need to apologize all over again,” Y/N scoffs.

“Please just let me get this out and then you don’t have to see me ever again okay,” Sirius asks softly and Y/N hesitantly nods. “For the past years I regret not trying harder to get you back. And I know that you probably wouldn’t have taken me back but I should've tried. You were the love of my life, still the love of my life. I shouldn’t have let you down like this,” Sirius goes on and Y/N feels the same butterflies in her stomach from the first day she spoke to him.

“What about Marlene,” Y/N asks, remembering the party. Lily explained it to her; she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t covering for Sirius.

“Just a fling,” Sirius nervously chuckles. “You think we can try again,” He asks nervousness crawling in his stomach.

“Yes,” Y/N says a few seconds after he spoke. His eyes light up but Y/N puts her finger up. “But we take it slowly, we shouldn’t rush into this,” She explains. Sirius nods agreeing with her.

Sirius brings her into a hug. Y/N didn’t hug back at first but finally sank into his arms, resting her head on his chest. She can feel his heartbeat which calms the butterflies in her stomach.

“I’ve missed you darling.”

[yyxgin]

LO-FI CHILDREN — YANG JEONGIN

pairing: childhood best friend! yang jeongin x fem! reader genre: coming of age (??), best friends to lovers au, kind of slow-burn, fluff, a tiny bit of angst word count: 9.5 k  warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, a lot of internal angsty monologue

YOUNGBLOOD DRABBLES 

synopsis: your last two weeks before the end of summer break bring you a new sense of anxiety as you fear losing everything you’re used to.

“THROUGH HEAVEN AND HIGH WATER.”

Light shade falls into the space of Jeongin’s room, the room you’ve spent most of your days in the past three years of high school, the room you’ve made most of your high school memories at, while you sigh heavily at the thought of leaving next week and not having the comfort of coming back to it every day after school. The room has memories everywhere you look - from the polaroids you cheesily gifted your friend on his last birthday in a cute shoe box, from which he took them out and stuck them to the wall beside his bed, as if he wanted the comfort of looking at them the last moment before going to sleep and the first moment of waking up in the morning - to the medals from useless school competitions on his bulletin board on the opposite wall, to which you accompanied him every single time. You mourn at the feeling of losing something, even though in reality, it’s not your best friend you’re losing. It’s the routine you’re going to miss.

“I’m gonna miss your room, Jeongin,” you snicker, seeing your best friend playfully glare at you with a pained look on his face he pulls out every time you tease him for something.

“Woah, one would think you’d miss me out of everything, but yeah, I get it, my room plays a much more important role in your life than my presence itself,” rolls his eyes the dimpled boy, causing you to snicker. Of course you’re going to miss him. You’re going to miss everything from his playful teasing to his caring nature he showed to you rarely, and when he did, it was disguised in a form of short glances and noisy questions.

“I just don’t like the idea of coming home from school and not having the comfort of your room right when I need it,” you giggle, shrugging. It was his presence in the room that you’re going to miss the most, though. But you weren’t cheesy like that to say it to his face out loud. Maybe if you didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true. As if you didn’t want to admit it to the world. If you don’t say it, it doesn’t exist. That’s how it works, right?

“You’re going to have the comfort of your new college dorm room, and that is just as good. If not better,” grins Jeongin, and in a sense, he’s right. Your college is just what you’ve always dreamed of, from the literature major you’ve chosen long time ago to the way dorms just look way more comfortable than your own, small room at your house. You bet the college is filled with educated and smart people you’ve always wanted to accompany yourself with, from the cool hipster girls you’ve only read about in your young adult books to smart guys with cute rounded glasses and alternative rock music playing in their headphones. It’s everything you dreamed of and more. And you got in. That’s the path you’ve chosen for yourself in your life. You think you made the right decision. It definitely feels right to you. 

The only thing that feels wrong is that Jeongin is no longer going to be by your side every day of your boring life. Yang Jeongin has always been there for you. Every single day of your high school experience, every single day of your growing up. He was there when you got your first goldfish and he was there when you had to flush it down the toilet after forgetting to feed it for a few days. He was there when you cried on pepero day, because your poor self got no snacks when you were ten, making him share his sweets with you and tickling you until you cried of laughter, because that was his only way of cheering you up at that time. He watched you grow. And you watched him grow. You were like two trees in a garden, roots intertwined, because they grew at the same place. You shared your childhood with him. But now, the branches of each of your trees were growing apart, and you didn’t like the fact that you’re no longer going to grow side by side.

“But you’re not going to be in my college room, Jeong,” you snicker casually, as if to not show your vulnerable side to him now, when the reality is closer than ever and the day of your departure feels the realest it ever did. 

“At least I won’t be there to annoy you anymore,” he grins, but there’s something behind his words and not so sparkly eyes that you understand all too very well. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. And neither do you. You both know the day will once come that you have to say the hurtful words, but the day was not today. So you’ll both just act like you don’t think about it every second of your miserable summer days, until the day comes and you can finally let it all out. 

“I like your annoying, though,” you smirk, already missing the way he would always tease you about your good grades or when you foolishly got pouty over the smallest things, “life is boring without all your drama.”

“It’s not drama, excuse me? We have Hyunjin for that,” he giggles at the thought of his older friend who graduated just a year ago. You haven’t seen him in a while either. The fact that all your older friends left the town for college and came back only for holidays made you sick to your stomach, because that’s what you’re going to do now. With no contact with your small hometown and your childhood friends, with no contact with your family other than video calls and visiting them on their birthdays. What if the unbreakable bond you had with them breaks? What if you no longer feel like you belong to the small town when you come back one day? You feel like that would crush you the most. Not feeling like at home anymore.

“Whatever you say, Jeongin,” you mumble, coming closer to him and throwing yourself at his body laying on the bed. It’s nothing unusual for the two of you, considering you were called the biggest cuddlebug right after your friend Felix, but something about the gesture feels like you’re hugging him one of the last times in a long time. But this isn’t your last opportunity, so why does it feel like one?

His arms automatically hold you around the waist, your nose nuzzling into his neck. The smell of your best friend is all too familiar to you, and the softness of his bedsheets feels like coming home. You wonder if you’ll be able to get that feeling in your new dorm room, telling yourself that you’ll probably have to wash your sheets with the same fabric softener to feel like that again. You feel his heartbeat under you, your heart swelling at the giggle that escapes his lips when you shuffle a little on top of him to get yourself to a more comfortable position. Your head ends up at his chest, legs intertwined like the roots of the trees in his backyard, rosy cheeks reminding you of the heat of the summer that’s currently creeping on you outside of the house. It reminds you of the last week of summer. The last week you have with your best friend by your side.

“Why couldn’t you just choose the same college as me?” you ask, lips pouty. You know it’s a selfish question. You know Jeongin could probably ask you the same, but he wouldn’t. Because it seems he is much more accepting of the situation than you are. Jeongin has always been the more reasonable between the two of you.

“Because I don’t like literature.” he laughs under you, making your whole body shake with the impact. 

“And? There are plenty of majors to choose from, at least we’d still be studying in the same building.” you mumble. You silently curse at yourself for sounding so needy and desperate. But the truth is, Jeongin is the only thing you are sure of in your life. And you aren’t ready for the feeling of security to go away.

“But there’s no acting major there.” he says, smoothing your back to relax your tense muscles. Does he realise how hard it is for you? Probably yes. He knows you like the back of his hand.

You bite on the chapped skin of your lips for a while, sighing. “I know. Sorry,” you say, voice low and defeated, “I shouldn’t be acting like this. It’s just…” you mumble, not being able to say it. You can’t say you’re going to miss him, because that would make it true. 

“I know,” he sighs, poking your sides a little with his pointer finger, tickling you, reminding you of the way he used to do it when you were nine and he didn’t know how to talk about feelings yet, cutting off your sentence with an unspoken sense of understatement, “but the fact that we’re going to different college doesn’t change anything in our friendship, you know that, right?”

“Of course,” you hurriedly nod, looking into his eyes with sincerity, “I know. You can’t just earease our whole childhood with one stupid college.”

“Right,” he giggles, lightening up at the sight of your smile. It does look a little sad, but it’s enough for him. It’s the sign that you’re at least trying to look at it from the brighter side. “I’m always going to be the one to annoy you.”

“Right.” you nod, grinning, “nobody will ever take your place.”

“Nobody on this whole entire world,” he smirks, “not even a lanky indie boy with a book in his hand you dream of so bad, right?”

You laugh at his remark, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Tell me, why exactly do you choose to water your plants at night?” giggles Jeongin at your figure pacing around your tiny room with a glass of water in your hand, because you didn’t manage to buy yourself a proper watering can in the long five years of owning the beautiful greenery. You turned to taking care of plants and flowers after the disaster that was your first and only goldfish, because it seemed like much less work than to look after an animal, but you always forgot to water your plants when you were supposed to and only came to think of it at late nights full of overthinking, when your legs hurriedly shot up and you turned to water the poor creatures so you wouldn’t forget about it in the morning.

“They like it that way,” you say instead, grinning at your stupid excuse, “and be quiet, my parents are already sleeping and I don’t need my mum to come here and shout at me again like the last time.”

This was probably your last sleepover of this year. You had sleepovers at each other’s places quite often, but you chose your room as the destination 9 out of 10 times, because Jeongin had siblings and it was easier to have some privacy at your house, considering you were an only child.

“Right, right,” he whisper-shouts and puts a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to muffle his giggling. The memory of your mother with baby pink hair-curlers comes into your mind, the image of her shouting at the two of you to shut up because she has to go to work the next morning appearing much more funnier in the late hours of night than it originally was. She told you you two weren’t allowed to have any more sleepovers that night, but you both knew that was just a meaningless threat just so you two would be quiet already, because truth be told, sometimes you felt like she liked your best friend more than she liked her own daughter.

“So,” you shigh out as you plop to the bed next to him, the two of you passing the stage of one of you sleeping in a sleeping bag at the floor long, long time ago, “what were we talking about?”

“Oh, that,” he lights up at the mention of the previous topic of your conversation, sitting up so he is now resting his back against the wall next to your bed, glancing at your figure lazily lying next to him, “my parents are going away on the last saturday of the summer. And they're taking my siblings with them.”

You sigh again, knowing damn well where the conversation is going already. “And?”

“And the two of us are leaving on sunday. So that means…” he trails off, wanting you to finish his sentence like you always used to with his stupid ideas.

“That means…?” you act stupid, not really fond of his idea this time.

“That means I can throw my last high school house party!” he cheers, hands up in the air in a winning gesture, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You mean your first and last high school house party?”

“Exactly,” he nods with a big grin on his face, the proudness of finally being able to do that overflowing on his features, but it disappears soon as he notices you don’t mirror his happy expression and look uninterested instead.

“Hey, why aren’t you excited?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“It’s a stupid idea,” you shrug, simply looking away from your best friend gazing at you from under his long eyelashes, looking around your room instead, as if you didn’t know every single centimeter of it by heart already.

“Why do you think so? It’s not. And it’s also the last time I can invite all of our friends to hang out before they leave for college as well,” he says, thinking of all of your older friends that left for college before you and whom you dearly missed every single day of high school, because it wasn’t the same without your big group. 

The 9-member friend group started slowly getting smaller and smaller once Chan and Minho graduated. Changbin graduated a year after that, leaving you with a 6-member friend group, which was still bearable and your table was still the loudest one at lunch, but after Felix, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jisung graduated, the school halls became empty with only the two of you - the youngest ones of the group, remaining in high school. At least you still had each other. You really don’t know what you’d do without Jeongin by your side.

“Your mum would be mad if she found out,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

“And? She can’t stay mad at me for long when I’m leaving on sunday, she’ll get over it.” he shrugs, “come on, Y/N, I’m only gonna invite the nine of us, if it bothers you so much.”

“I just… I don’t know,” you sigh, finally meeting his eyes, “I don’t feel like throwing a party.”

“Stop being so melodramatic already,” teases you Jeongin, but you see something behind his eyes shift at your saddened expression. Is it really that hard for you? He hoped a party would surely cheer you up and make you forget about having to leave at least for one evening. He would be fine without a party, for sure, but he thought seeing your friends one last time would be good for you. He teases you, but you know what he means by his words. He wants you to stop being melodramatic, because he wants you to be happy. You’re not a bother to him when you’re sad, he just likes your smile much better than your frown. Because your smile, at least, doesn’t break his heart.

“Fine,” you sigh out after a while spent by a staring contest with your best friend trying to cheer you up by putting on silly expressions, “but only if you invite the 9 of us only.”

“Of course,” he nods with a grin, finally settling next to you on your bed and hugging you around the waist so you can cuddle up to him safely. He was rarely the one to initiate the cuddling between the two of you, but recently, he knows you need his cuddles more and more. Perhaps he feels like he’ll miss them too.

You huff out when he lands next to you, securing your hands around his on your waist, looking up to the ceiling. You’re not so fond of the idea of a party. Sure, it would be great to meet all your friends before leaving to all go your own ways a day later, but the idea of spending time with someone just to lose them the next week, in a way, makes you feel kind of sad. 

You also wish you could just spend your last days with Jeongin. You’re acting like a clingy girlfriend, and you’re very much aware of that, but you can’t help it. You’ve spent all your days with Jeongin and nobody else last year. You share a special bond with him. You feel like once he’s not only one call or a 10 minute walk to his house away, something will be missing inside of you. It’s silly.

But can anyone really blame you?

“I wanna do something spontaneous before the summer ends,” you mourn out, sitting at the front porch of Jeongin’s house, the darkness of the summer night enveloping you like a warm blanket. You were supposed to be home a long time ago, but you guess your mother doesn’t really care where you are as long as she knows you’re with Jeongin. That, and you also heard her calling Jeongin’s mum a little while ago when you didn’t arrive home before your curfew, being notified by Mrs Yang that you may be staying over tonight. Actually, you had no idea if you’re staying over. You had no idea where this night was taking you. You just knew you felt empty, you felt bored. As if the summer was wasted.

“Like what?” asks Jeongin, kicking a rock under his black shoe, watching it bounce away from the front porch, glancing up at you right after.

“I don’t know. Like… dye my hair blue or something,” you laugh out, looking at him, “I just wanna do something, you know?” you snicker.

“Let’s do it, then,” he grins at you, standing up from his position next to you on the stairs and reaching out a hand for you to take.

“Let’s do what?”

“Let’s dye your hair blue,” he shrugs, looking at you with sparkling eyes, the lampposts behind his head making him look as if he had a halo around his head. 

“Oh hell no, that was a joke,” you laugh out, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Yeah, and the mourning about wanting blue hair for the past two months was a joke as well, right?” grins Jeongin, still standing at his place with an out-stretched hand to you, “let’s go!”

“Let’s go where? We don’t even have dye and I can’t dye my hair on my own, and I’m enrolling in college on monday, I can’t show up with a blue head!” you mourn out, but giggle nonetheless, finding the idea amusing in a way.

“That’s not a problem, we can get that box dye in the convenience store. And I bet all the tall lanky literature major boys will fall on their asses when they see a cute girl with blue hair on their first day of college,” says Jeongin and forcefully makes you stand up on your own two feet, taking you by surprise by his compliment.

“Yeah, watch me fuck it all up and look like a sad blueberry on my first day of college,” you giggle, but follow his steps that are most likely heading to the convenience store. 

“I will do it for you, you know I’m an expert at hair dye,” laughs out Jeongin, making you crack up at his comment.

“Jeong, bleaching your head once in eighth grade doesn’t count for being an expert at hair dye and you know that.” you roll your eyes, but still follow his footsteps with your hand in his, swinging your hands forward and backward like little children on a playground play-dating for the first time.

“As far as I’m concerned, it surely does.” 

“It didn’t even look good in the first place, how am I supposed to trust you with my hair?” you laugh, seeing his playfully hurt expression accompanied by a dramatic gasp worth of Hwang Hyunjin himself. 

“You told me it looked good back then!” he pouts.

“And I lied.” you shrug, “things like that happen.”

“This is such a bad idea, Jeongin, I will throw up, I swear to god-”

“Oh my god, chill, woman, it’s going perfectly fine!” giggles Jeongin and shows the glass of cheap wine you bought along-side with your box dye in the convenience store almost half an hour ago to your face with his hand dirty from the blue dye.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” you roll your eyes and drink the bitter liquid nonetheless, thinking that if it’s going to turn out horribly, at least you won’t register it at first if you’re drunk enough to not notice it.

“I’m not drunk,” giggles Jeongin as he smears another blob of hair dye onto the roots of your hair, “just a little tipsy.”

“Oh no,” you laugh out, knowing damn well Jeongin’s ‘just a little tipsy’ means ‘I can hardly know which one is you because I am seeing you twice’. 

You two are currently sitting in his bathroom, you with your back turned to the mirror so you don’t have to see the disaster that is currently happening on your head, much better to Jeongin, because the light shines from that side and he can see what he’s doing better this way. It’s 2 in the morning and the cheap wine is starting to taste better after every gulp and truth be told, neither of you drink much and you only decided to do so tonight, because Jeongin kept whining about how he hasn’t used his ID to buy alcohol yet and he is now legally allowed to do so. You bought cheap wine, but forgot to buy plastic gloves, though. At least your hair isn’t going to be the only blue mess left when you wake up in the morning and Jeongin will pay for your spontaneous idea as well. With his stained hands, and his stained t-shirt too.

“Stop moving around, you’re making it difficult,” laughs Jeongin, praying in his head his mother doesn’t wake up and chime in to the bathroom to see the disaster happening, because even though he is a legal adult, he is one hudred percent sure she’ll confusticate his cheap wine and wash off your blue hair dye before it even has the chance to work. 

“Are you sure it’s me moving or is it your head that’s spinning?” you giggle, finishing the glass of wine and putting it on the floor while your best friend’s hands are still in your head, your movement causing him to spread some hair dye all over your forehead. “Oh my god it’s in my eyes!” you laugh out, quickly shutting them so they won’t burn.

“No it’s not, you stupid, you just have it all over your forehead,” he grins and continues working, threading his fingers through your locks, your body leaning forward to the head of the chair he stole from the kitchen, relaxing.

“That feels good,” you mumble, noticing the way your sentence might sound a little weird in his ears and feeling your cheeks burn up instantly. You really do sound stupid sometimes, don’t you?

“What does?” he furrows his brows at you, clueless.

“You playing with my hair,” you confess, laughing a little to ease the tension you feel. 

“Oh, does it?” he smirks, scratching a little at your scalp, earning a little whine from your lips that makes him giggle. “And we’re done!” he smiles as he stops, taking a step back to admire your blue, messily covered head. 

“And now we wait,” you giggle, hearing him washing his hands in the sink, even though it doesn’t help him drown out the blue that is now on his hands for the time being.

“Look, we’re in this together,” he giggles, showing you his stained hands as he puts a plastic bag over your hair to make the dye work better, stopping in front of you and gazing into your eyes with his, slightly hazy ones due to the wine you both drank.

You snort at his comment, but continue to stare into his eyes. You notice how they sparkle, even though it may be due to the alcohol, but it still makes your heart flutter with the image of them that just seem so love-struck at the moment. Something inside of you wished he would look at you like that all the time. Like you held the world in your hands. Like you were the most important thing in his universe.

He breaks away the gaze just to poke your cheeks and get out a little laugh, turning away and taking a seat on the hard floor, against the bathtub, with his phone in his hands. 

“I’m gonna set the timer so we don’t forget about that,” he informs you, seeing you nod.

“I doubt we’d forget though, I mean, I have a ridiculous amount of box dye on my head and it burns a little, so…”

“We had two glasses of wine, Y/N, everything’s possible at this point.” he snorts, finally looking back at you after setting his phone on the floor next to him, shooting you the look of admiration you experienced a minute ago once again, making you shy away from his eyes.

A comfortable silence overtakes the room, making you wonder how you even ended up in this position. The feeling of wanting to do something exciting overtook all your senses. It wasn’t like you to do such spontaneous things. Perhaps something inside of you just wanted to see how change feels for the first time. Perhaps your mind wanted to get used to the feeling of something new first, before having to experience the biggest change on monday. 

This change felt good. Kind of exciting. But you’re not quite sure how leaving and changing the place you call home will feel next week. You bet it wouldn’t feel the same.

“Thank you, Jeongin,” you mumble after a while, locking eyes with the black-haired boy sitting on the floor.

“For what? For ruining your hair?” he giggles, his dimples on full display.

“No,” you roll your eyes, suddenly feeling sentimental, “for being my friend, you know? I know I’ve been a little annoying these past days, but I am just scared to leave, that’s all.” 

You see him nod at you, smiling to himself. “I know. It’s okay,” he says, “but you don’t have to be scared. You’ll do great. I mean, you were the top student of our class. And you’re like, really smart, you know. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

You hum in response, nodding at his comment. He was right. But that wasn’t exactly the reasoning behind your silent worries. It wasn’t about your grades dropping or about you not being good enough. Truth be told, you never even thought about that. There was a deeper sense to your worries, but at the same time, they felt more silly than the ones Jeongin thinks live inside that head of yours.

You’re scared to leave your town. Your family. What if you don’t find any friends in your new college? What if you’re left alone? Alone turns to lonely really quickly, and there's nothing in this world you fear more than loneliness.

For the past year, you had no one else but Jeongin. With all your friends away, it was easy to get lonely. But Jeongin was always by your side. He never even gave you a chance to feel that way. Not once did you have a noisy thought in your brain that would make you feel like you have to be scared of being alone this past year. 

But without Jeongin by your side, you’re sure you’ll feel it. The loneliness. You’ll feel lonely without his constant teasing. Without his honest eyes, without his bright smile. You’ll miss your best friend so much that it hurts you already.

What if he forgets all about you? What if you’ll grow apart completely? What if the branches of your trees won’t touch anymore, what if the bond you have will break? What will you do without his calls? Without his presence in your life?

You worry about that the most. Losing him to the distance. But you’ll never say it out loud to him. Not when the end is near.

And so you just smile and nod, humming in response. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

And with that, the alarm on his phone rings, signaling for you to wash the hair dye off, praying it doesn’t look like such a disaster as you feel like it’s going to.

“Mum can you please stop yelling? My head hurts,” you grunt while you sit at the kitchen table, putting your head into your hands and wiping them at your face. 

“What did you think? Dying your hair blue a few days before enrolling in college?” she screams, making you rest against the chair and roll your eyes.

After rinsing off the blue hair dye at night, you fell asleep in Jeongin’s bed without even blow drying it, effectively staining his pillowcase as well, forgetting about the wine bottle in his bathroom and about your mother all together. Jeongin’s mum woke you up in the morning with the empty bottle in her hands and a questioning look on her face, telling you to run home, because your mother is causing a scene and she’s tired of listening to her screaming on her phone. Your and Jeongin’s mums were best friends, so you know she doesn’t exactly mean it, but you ran home with a sigh nonetheless without even looking at yourself in the mirror beforehand, preparing yourself for the screaming you’re gonna hear at home.

“I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all!” you mourn out, looking at her with half-closed eyes, seeing her pacing around the kitchen.

“So you got drunk with Jeongin after you didn’t respond to my calls for the whole evening?!” she scolds you, seeing you sigh.

“I heard you calling Mrs Yang, I know you knew I was there,” you say, tying a strand of your freshly dyed blue hair around your finger and glancing at it. It didn’t look that bad, but you haven’t seen yourself in full display yet, so you can’t really tell if your best friend did a good job yesterday.

“And you’re just gonna glaze over the fact that you got drunk?” she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Mum, I’m literally 19, what do you expect me to say?” you burst out, glaring at her with sharp eyes. You really had no idea where she was coming from with this whole discussion.

She gazes at you for a while before sighing at taking a seat next to you, relaxing her tense muscles. “You’re right. You’re totally right, I’m just over-reacting,” she says, hands clasped on the table, “it’s just… You’re growing up so quickly and I’m not- I guess I’m not ready for you to leave quite yet.” she confesses, looking at you with sad eyes.

Your whole life, you haven’t left home for more than a week. You only did so one time when you went on a field trip with your school and even then, you missed your mother a little. The truth is that after Jeongin, it felt like she was your best friend. It sounds lame, but it is true. The almost idyllic relationship you share with your mother has always made you feel safe and loved. It’s going to be hard for you to not have your mother there to wake you up in case you slept in in the morning, or when you felt sad and wanted to mourn over a cup of hot chocolate in the evening while watching a soap opera. 

You never realised your mother could miss you so much. I guess you were just so self-indulgent in your own pity you never realised other people could be scared of the change as well.

“I’m not either, mum,” you snicker, taking her hands into yours, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I know, I know,” she nods, gazing into your eyes, “but it’s going to be empty here without you. I won’t have my soap opera partner here anymore.”

“We can watch soap operas together when I come home over holidays, don’t worry,” you smile at her, seeing her relax a little.

“You bet I’m going to annoy you and call you every evening just to make sure you’re okay,” she laughs at your face full of misery, enjoying the teasing. 

“Please don’t, the college kids will think I’m not cool if you do,” you mourn, but on the inside, you’re screaming ‘please do’, because if you’re alone on the cold nights in your new dorm room, at least you know you always have your mother to lean on. 

“Oh please, with that hair? Everyone will think you’re the coolest girl around,” she grins, pointing at the blue color of your hair, making you snort out in surprise.

“Does it really look cool?” you ask her, beaming with joy.

“As your mother, I’m legally not allowed to say that, but it doesn’t look twice bad, you know,” she says, making you jump out and move to the mirror on the wall in your hall, admiring your new image and admitting that your mother was, indeed, right, and you don’t really regret your spontaneous idea that sparked inside of your head yesterday.

“I’m surprised it’s not blotchy, considering you were drunk when you did that,” smirks your mum from behind you.

“Oh, Jeongin did that,” you point out nonchalantly, “and we weren’t that drunk yet, we finished the bottle after rinsing this off.” you giggle.

“Jeongin did?” she gasps in surprise, laughing.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “the wine was his idea as well, by the way, so if you wanna be mad at someone, it’s not me.”

Your mum shakes her head in amusement, laughing a little at you. Her little girl is growing up so well, she thinks. She looks at you as if she knew something you didn’t, making you quirk up your brow at her questioningly, but she just shrugs it off.

“Go and eat some breakfast, sunshine, you must be hungry,” she just says, making you grin.

“Okay,” you nod, moving back to your spacious kitchen, turning around in the doorway once more and shooting a teasing question to your mother, “does that mean I’m not grounded or anything? Because I have a party to attend this saturday.” you laugh.

“I’ll think about it, young lady.”

“Remind me again, why are you packing your things on a friday night? We could have been doing much more fun things than that,” mourns Jeongin as he watches you rummaging through your closet, picking up the things you’re going to take with you to a whole new, different city across the whole country. 

“Because I have to leave at noon on sunday,” you huff out, “and you chose to have a party on saturday. And tell me, what other exciting fun things could we be doing right now?” you glare at him from across the room.

“I don’t know, like… watching anime?” he giggles, making you roll your eyes with a small smile of amusement.

“Yeah, right. Anime won’t pack my bags, though, so if you don’t wanna help, at least stop whining for a while.” you mumble, packing your shirts, throwing them into your carrier.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at you, but moves closer to your closet nonetheless, eyeing the mass of clothing inside, silently judging you for owning so much, even though you wear the same three shirts every week. His eyes stop at your hands, seeing something suspicious in them, eyebrows shooting up in question.

“Is that my shirt?” he laughs.

“No…” you mumble, feeling red in your cheeks, stuffing the white fabric into your bag, desperately trying to hide it from his eyes so he won’t tease you about it.

“I’m pretty sure it is.” he grins, catching the blush creeping onto your face. What was making you so flustered? It’s not like you haven’t worn his clothes before. He shares his shirts with you all the time when you sleep over.

“And what if it is? Once it spends more time in my closet than in yours, it’s automatically my shirt, you know.” you explain matter-of-factly, looking him in the eyes, finding a playful spark in them that is ever so present and familiar to you every time he teases you about something.

“Right, right,” he nods, leaning on the wall of your closet, “is there any reason why you’re packing that shirt with you for college?” he asks.

“No reason, I just like that shirt,” you nod, not once meeting his eye, because you’re sure you’d be a blushing mess if you did, desperately wanting him to change the topic and leave you and his shirt alone. It was embarrassing enough for you to keep it for that long, not even talking about you packing it with yourself for college. You never even wore it in the first place. Or Jeongin hasn’t seen you in it before, that is. He must have left the shirt there at one of his sleepovers accidentally, not caring about it enough to remember he lost it. 

And the truth is, you never wore it. You just kept it because it smelled like your best friend. 

Your mother definitely wasn’t so thrilled when you shouted at her in panic when she almost threw it into the wash one day, but she was understanding of your little secret. Your mother knew more about you than you ever did anyway.

“Is that so?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow, sending shivers down your spine. You usually didn’t mind his teasing this much. 

“Yeah.” you nod again, voice low and shy. There was a sense of unspoken words behind the simple response, but you had no courage in giving those words a name or a particular feeling yet. All you knew was that if you ever miss your best friend as deeply as you can only imagine you will, you hope the smell of his shirt will keep you company. 

And as if your best friend knew, he doesn’t tease you any further. He just stands closer to you, hugging you around your waist from behind and playfully nudging your sides.

“Okay.” he says, voice barely louder than a whisper, his arms feeling like a home you’re soon going to lose.

The stairs of your best friend’s front porch are a familiar place to you. You know every lamppost in your vision, you know every noise around. You recognise every neighbourhood dog just by the sound of its bark. The chilly air or the summer night makes you shiver, a feeling of nostalgia overtaking your senses as you hear the background noise of the eight people inside, cursing at yourself for not being there with them to spend your last evening in your hometown with your closest friends.

It feels heavy, though. Listening to their laughter, knowing it’s going to be the last time you’re going to hear it in a while. Seeing them smile when you know that tomorrow, you’ll be so far away from each other. And it hurts to say goodbye. 

You don’t feel like seeing Minho grin at you across the room when you know he won’t be there to tease you about being nervous from your first day of college on monday morning. You don’t feel like listening to Changbin’s stories when you know you won’t be there with him to make some new ones. You don’t feel like listening about Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s shared music major, because you’re secretly envious of the fact that they still get to meet each other every day. You don’t feel like watching Chan’s father-like smile when you know you won’t see it for such a long time. You don’t feel like watching Seungmin bickering with everyone when you know he won’t be there to make fun of you when you forget to change from your pyjama pants and go to school in them again. You don’t feel like sitting around in a hug with Felix when you’re more than sure you’re going to miss the way he so lovingly held you once you're sitting in your empty dorm room. 

But you don’t feel like sitting there and watching your best friend laughing in his living room with a can of beer in his hand the most of it all. Because it feels like time’s running out. It feels like if you don’t soon do something, anything, all of those people will forever disappear, even though you know you will always have the chance to meet them on holidays. 

You don’t want to look at them when your heart hurts at every chance of that encounter. 

You miss them all already.

You turn around at the sound of the front door opening, seeing Chan standing there with his usual warm smile, but it doesn’t make you feel safe this time around. It makes you feel longing, it makes you feel like you’re far, far away already.

“Why are you just sitting here, Sonic?” he laughs, nudging your side with his elbow as he sits next to you on the stairs of the front porch, making you break out into a small smile at his teasing nickname comparing you to the blue cartoon character. 

“I don’t feel like partying,” you shrug, not meeting his eyes just in case they tell on you. You watch the stars instead, noticing the way they have never shined brighter, as if they wanted to show you how beautiful they can be the last night you spend in your hometown.

“Don’t be scared,” mumbles Chan, putting his hand on your thigh, comforting you, “you know we’re all just one call away, right? We may not see each other that often anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re losing us, you know that,” he says, speaking the words you needed to hear for a really long time now, making you look at him with a sad smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I know,” you nod, seeing that father-like smile appear on his lips again. Chan has always been like your older brother to you. He knew you like the back of his hand. You almost forgot how see-through you always were for the boy when he left for college three years ago.

“But this isn’t about us anymore, is it?” he grins playfully, but still considerably enough to not hurt your already fragile feelings.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. He really did know you better than you knew yourself, huh? There was something about Chan that always made him seem like a trained therapist. Maybe it was because he was the oldest of your friend group, always taking care of the eight of you whenever something bad happened. He looked after you all. His heart has always been full of gold. 

“No,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek, lost in thought. 

“You’re not losing him. Ever,” he says firmly, “I promise.”

“Chan, I-”

“For the past year, it was just the two of you. The two of you against the whole world. Do you really think he would throw away something like that just because he won’t have the chance to see you every day?” says Chan, gazing at you with caring eyes.

“No,” you shake your head, “but the distance… I will miss him so much.” you say, feeling actually kind of relieved after the confession you kept all inside without being able to say it out loud for so long. Because once you say it, it’s there. It’s the truth.

But that’s how it is, it is the truth. You will miss your best friend so, so much.

“But he’ll always be there, the distance doesn’t change anything,” Chan says, voice warm. 

“What if-” you start, laughing at yourself in self-pity, “what if he finds someone better there? What if he won’t feel like he needs me anymore? It will be so lonely without him, Chan.”

Chan gazes at you for a while, as if he was studying the way your eyes held all the sadness they possibly could at the very moment, before he speaks up again. “Tell him.”

“Tell him what?” you ask, furrowing your brows at Chan. 

“You know what I mean,” he says, laughing light-heartedly. 

And you know what? He’s right. You know what he means. And maybe you always knew, but you just never said it out loud. Because once you say it, it’s there, and it’s the truth. And hiding from that truth was all you did these past months, even though it’s always been there.

You shake your head again, as if to let him know how well he knows you, staring off to the distance. You feel like you know every car that passes by, every bird that chirps from the tree branches in Jeongin’s back yard. This place feels like a home to you. And you’re not ready to leave home yet. You’re not ready to leave Jeongin. 

“Don’t be scared okay?” asks Chan, standing up, but you know that this time, he means it in a whole different sense. Something about his words makes you calm down, nodding at him. 

“Are you leaving already?” you ask, seeing him nod. 

“Gotta leave early tomorrow,” he says, mimicking your sad smile, “call me when you arrive in your dorms, alright? I wanna hear all about it.” he says, making you smile.

“I will.” you say, seeing him take long steps backwards until he’s at the end of Jeongin’s driveway, waving his hand at you with a bright grin on his face.

“Bye! I’ll visit you some time!” he calls, ignoring the silent hours, knowing damn well Jeongin’s neighbours don’t care about those ever since the last time you went out and screamed out all your bottled-up frustration from your failed maths test last year with Jeongin.

“It’s a three hour long drive, Chan!” you shake your head.

“And?”

“And you don’t even have a car!” you laugh, seeing him burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I’ll find a way, believe me!” he says, and with that, he leaves. The empty space next to you on the front porch makes you feel sad now, contemplating going inside the house and at least trying to talk to your friends one last time, when you hear the door open again, revealing Jeongin standing there with a frown on his face.

He doesn’t ask you anything, nor does he say anything as he takes a seat next to you, much like Chan did just a few minutes ago. His eyes don’t even meet yours. All you feel is pure melancholy, pure longing for the boy next to you, pure love beating out of your chest as he leans his head onto your shoulder and places a hand on your knee.

You swear you could do it any time. Say it. Just three words - that’s all. Easy. But you know that maybe if you did, saying goodbye would be much harder for you in the morning. It wouldn’t feel right, leaving him with the knowledge you spilled your deepest secret to him. 

And so you do the next closest thing, you say the next closest words to the three most important ones just sitting at the tip of your tongue: “I’ll miss you.”

The words feel so vulnerable. So intimate. Like you’re spilling out your heart to him.

“I will miss you too,” he says back, voice muffled and sad. He said it. It just made it real.

You look at him, his head coming off your shoulder, seeing the sparkle in his eyes mirror the stars in the night sky, reminding you of the beauty of your hometown, because to be honest, no place feels closer to home than when you're in his arms. Your breath hitches in your throat, your body shivering under his gaze. He wears the same love-struck drunken gaze in his eyes, but this time, you’re sure he’s not drunk enough for you to confuse his feelings for alcohol. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, hesitantly looking into his eyes for any sign of rejection, but finding none as he leans in a little, nudging his nose with yours. 

This surely isn’t your smartest idea. But it sure does feel like one. 

You can almost feel his lips on yours, the ghost of them glazing over yours with his warm breath, when the front door opens for the third time this evening, making both of you jolt away from each other as Jisung’s loud voice cuts through the silence.

“Here you are! I was looking for you two!”

You look at Jeongin with wide, rounded eyes, seeing him gazing to the ground. The expression breaks something inside of you, making you brokenly smile at the boy in the doorway currently looking the two of you up and down, forcing out a laugh.

“Yeah. Here we are.” you say, passing past him, entering the living room to hopefully drown your feelings out in the noise of the seven people left in the place, desperately needing to forget about everything - your college, your mum, your friends, Jeongin - everything.

The kiss didn’t feel like your best idea anymore.

You load the trunk of your mother’s old white mini cooper with the luggage you packed with Jeongin on friday, a frown sitting on top of your lips as you take a look around your house for the last time in months. It will be weird to not see your small house every day. You never knew you could miss that place. 

Sunlight hits your eyes as you watch your mother step out of the house, looking at you with a sense of pride, opening her arms wide so you can hug her goodbye. You lounge yourself into her body, breathing in her fruity perfume, feeling like you have to breathe in enough so you can remember the smell even  when you’re far away. It’s another smell that reminds you of home. You never realised it until it felt like it was too late.

“Be careful on the roads, yeah? I didn’t leave you my car for you to break it somewhere on your first day of driving it, alright?” she says with a playful, scolding tone of her voice, although you know damn well she doesn’t mean it harshly. She just doesn’t want to say it with a sincere tone of voice, knowing her sensitive daughter might just cry if she does so.

“Right, right,” you nod, breaking away from the motherly hug, seeing her eyes move somewhere behind you, a knowing look settled on her features.

You turn around, seeing Jeongin standing at the end of your doorway, out of breath, a worried look plastered on his face as he watches you take long, slow steps to his figure.

“Hi-”

“I thought you left without saying goodbye!” he screams out at you, making you painfully look to the ground. His words hurt you. Because you know how worried he must have been when he thought you didn’t even care enough about him to hug him one last time.

The truth is, you wanted to do it. Leave without a word. You woke up in the morning on the sofa in his living room, visiting his room to find him in his bed soundly asleep, the warm light flowing through the blinds making him look ethereal. The reality hit you at the sight. It felt too hard to say it. To finally leave. 

“I’m sorry, Innie-” you start, only to be cut off by your best friend again.

“Why are you pushing me away? Now, out of everything? When we have so little time left together?” he almost mourns, hands shooting up in the air. 

You look around helplessly, seeing your mother disappeared into the house to give you two some privacy, already knowing what is the topic behind your conversation without you even needing to enlighten her in the first place. It’s so visible in both of your eyes. Nobody had to be told to know about the feelings you share for the other.

“I’m not…”

“Yes you are. What are you so afraid of, Y/N? I’m not disappearing just because I’ll be away,” he helplessly shakes his head, frustration written all over his face.

A lump forms in your throat, making you forcefully swallow it down, looking into his eyes. “What will I do without you? This doesn’t make it any easier for us, Jeongin, and I don’t want to be in pain for all this time without you.”

“Just because you refuse to say it out loud doesn’t mean it isn’t there, you know,” he says, gazing into your eyes, reading your mind perfectly.

You stare into his face again, admiring his features as if it was your last time to see them. His beautiful eyes that always looked at you with admiration. His pretty lips that looked so inviting ever since the moment you two shared at his front porch yesterday. The hair falling into his face, obviously not brushed at all today, since he ran all the way here after not finding you by his side in the morning like he thought he would. 

You stare into his face again and your heart beats with admiration, because Jeongin’s right. Just because you refuse to say it out loud, doesn’t mean you don’t love him. And the fact that you confess won’t make it any harder for you. You would still miss him the same. 

“I-” you choke on your words, seeing him shake his head.

“If you won’t say it, I will,” he speaks up, leaning in closer to you, his hand finding its way onto your cheek, his starry eyes gazing into yours as his breath glazes over your lips again, “I’m in love with you.”

You almost feel your eyes well up with tears just in time when his lips meet yours, shutting them close, immersed in the feeling of the kiss. It feels like your lips were made for him to kiss. Like the two of you were the trees in his backyard, so close to each other, always meant to have your branches and your roots intertwined.

You feel like you never want to pull away, but after a while, you’re forced to. 

“Jeongin, I-” you take a deep breath, feeling the time ticking as you know you have to leave soon or you’ll come late, “I’m in love with you too.”

He nods, a wide grin settled onto his features, acting as if he knew all along and he just wanted to hear the words leave your mouth.

And there they were. 

You said it, so it made it true.

You were in love with him.

But the truth is, you always have been. You just refused to admit it to yourself.

And so with the last kiss before you hopped into your mum’s old mini cooper, you try to remember how it feels, you try to remember how Jeongin’s lips taste against yours. 

They taste sweet. Soft. Just like him. You try to remember how your heart flutters with every butterfly touch of his hand, you try to engrave his glittery eyes into your memory. 

Because this is what you’ll think of when you feel the most alone in your first days of college. You’ll think of Yang Jeongin and the feelings he made you feel. You’ll think of home.

Because your heart has always felt at home when he securely held it in his hands.

“Call me when you get there,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I will,” you nod, not ready to let him go just yet.

“And don’t fall for any lanky literature major while you’re there, okay?” he giggles, nudging your nose with his, making you laugh.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” he nods.

“Good.” you repeat, gazing into his eyes.

“I’ll visit you when I can.”

And you know he’ll keep his promise. The ride will be long, but Jeongin will do everything just to feel at home. Because the only thing you two need to feel at ease is each other. And he’s not planning on disappearing just yet.

Not now, when he finally has you. 

Not ever.

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream IV // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mourning a relationship, sadness, angst, war/death, mention of strict parents, and fluff

Words: 3.1

A/N: This is a disclaimer: just because the reader and Luke start to get along better and have a date does NOT mean she isn’t grieving her relationship. Whether the love faded or not with Peter that is still a large part of who she was/is or don’t expect her and Luke to fall into a relationship immediately.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The phantoms had disbanded for the night, leaving Julie alone in her room surrounded by books and Flynn. You’d snuck down to the basement as you had since you arrived in 2020 from a different world. The wardrobe that quite literally changed your life was in the back corner, unassuming for the young girl.

Your e/c eyes pinned to the antique wooden furniture that had traveled from England to America as if fate had guided it. No matter how long time went by you’d never been able to touch the wardrobe, let alone touch remotely close. A part of you feared finding if you could return to Narnia or not.

It was something you kept private from the new people helping you to assimilate back into a life on Earth. The boys often refused to leave you for very long after the traumatic disappearance, even when you urged for space. It had almost been as tricky as negotiating peace with a land boiling with civil unrest.

Alex had taken to holding your hand as you slept for peace in both him and you; he’d noticed the state of sleep you endured. It was fitful and often filled with memories in the form of nightmares. The one from last night reared its head once more.

An intake of breath as you pulled your fingers closed to your cheek. Eyes on the movement before you released the bow. The arrow sailed true into the unsuspecting enemy with a faint whistle as it travelled.

The body dropped, one of many of the battles you had attended since defeating the White Witch. A life was still a life, and taking one was incredibly difficult. You saw it in the eyes of Peter, heard it in Susan’s strained voice, saw it in the way Edmund carried himself, but the most heartbreaking was the feeling of Lucy’s tense shoulders in certain moments.

Edmund and Lucy had been children when the White Witch had reigned and fought. Lucy had been only nine years old when her foot first touched Narnian snow. At that tender age, she’d watched the evil of the world up close. Edmund not that incredibly older. The youngest Pevensie had watched her brother take his last breath. Felt the trauma of Edmund’s gasping as the cordial bled one life-giving drop of liquid.

“I’d like to say it gets better, but it truly doesn’t, Your Majesty.” General Oreius’ announced from his station beside you. It was a lull in the tension building as people got ready for the enemies on the horizon.

Oreius’ addressed you but kept his gaze on the approaching army from an enemy land; the General was gifted in multitasking. He’d stopped to give you a little peace in only the way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Oreius.” You informed the General as he took off into the land ahead, leaving you to hold off the enemy with arrows. The short lapse is a game-changer for you as you run into battle.

Last night’s dream had been a reprieve from the dreams of Peter staring sadly at you curled around Luke. It hadn’t happened, of course, but that didn’t dim the bonfire of emotions you felt for the hazel-eyed guitarist.

You couldn’t quite figure out if you loved Peter the way a wife should love their husband. It wasn’t solely Peter that made you come to the wardrobe frequently. It had to do with the family that became yours when your parents had been shitty.

“Hey.” Julie spoke, stepping up to your side. The first person to have found you in the basement where you had an entirely different life.

“Hi.” You murmured, breaking your stare to meet the lovely teenager who had taken your brother and friends into her home. Even if it hadn’t been a smooth start, the band had grown infinitely closer.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Julie softly questioned with soft brown eyes taking in the action you’d known for years. Your fingers brushed a strand of her gorgeous coil hair behind her ear with a gentleness you’d done so with Susan and Lucy.

Julie watched as your eyes saddened, “I don’t know. Mere seconds before I stumbled out of the wardrobe into your home, I was an adult. I had been in my early ’30s reigning beside my husband, and then I was the same sixteen-year-old girl breaking the chains of the Mercer name.”

“You feel guilty you left Alex, Luke and Reggie without answers, but you feel like you’re betraying your new family?” Julie questioned, shifting on her sneakers to stare at the emotional mask you’d developed in Narnia.

“Something like that.” You simply replied, casting one more look at the wardrobe in your haste to leave the basement.

Julie waited until you had left before she opened the wardrobe with a loud creak. Her hands brushed material hanging before her hand met a solid surface. Her face dropped at the physical evidence that Narnia couldn’t be reached from this wardrobe again.

Julie adored you, but she wanted to know how true happiness looked on your pretty features. Even if she had to give up you just so you could be happy, it was worth it, so when you left the basement each visit, she’d check the wardrobe.

It always failed. Not a speck of snow or a call of your royal title. Had Julie not seen you tumble out of the wardrobe, she’d have never believed the story.

“One day.” Julie murmured to the silent wardrobe.

Your foot barely passed the threshold of your attic space when your ’90s friends dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Each wearing a big grin that matched the fake one you plastered on.

“Where’d you go this time?”

“Top of the Hollywood sign.” Reggie piped up, skipping over to distribute a cheesy tourist keychain of the sign. Had it been someone else than Reggie, you would have joked about it, but you never could with the sweet puppy like teenager.

“Thank you.” You told the boy who had taken to grabbing little souvenirs for you. You couldn’t remember when he’d sat beside you, but he’d softly informed you how much he’d missed you. 

In the year following your disappearance, Reggie had built up a collection of trinkets he thought you’d love; he was the one with the most optimism. Even if he believed you’d met an end, that little spark of hope never died. He wouldn’t be Reggie Peters if the hope wasn’t there.

“I wish I knew if my parents kept that box.” Reggie sighed, referring to the trinkets he had collected the year you’d gone missing. You merely squeezed his shoulder in response before catching gazes with Luke.

“Flynn still here?” Alex questioned, pushing himself to sit on the box bench underneath the window. He’d proudly chosen the wear one of the t-shirts Flynn had personalized for the band.

You shrugged, “Dunno. Julie found me.”

Reggie and Luke were oblivious, but Alex knew to the core of his soul where you tended to spend alone time. Alex would see how you’d return with that ache in your eyes more prominent, and your lips quirked down just enough for him to tell. He saw the guilt when you looked at Luke, the way you thumbed your ring.

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe to use Julie’s computer to search for our childhood friends? See if Sarah got valedictorian?” Alex asked, swinging his feet, trying to pull you from your thought which he was successful with.

“Sure.”

Reggie and Luke watched as you and Alex left the attic for some one on one time together, leaving the two.

“I wonder where they’re going?” Reggie questioned, staring after the closed door. His hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.

Luke shrugged, “You wanna write a song?”

“Sure! We could-”

“Not country,” Luke told the bassist, who pouted but followed as his best friend poofed to the garage. 

The two Mercer siblings wandered the streets of Los Angeles, each in their own thoughts but comforted by the odd brush of their arms. For Alex, it felt like the old days when you both snuck out of the house just for some air. To just to leave the tense expectations shoved on their shoulders by their perfectionist parents.

“If I’d never disappeared and you didn’t die, where do you think we’d be?” You mused, thinking of all the what-ifs. Would you have gotten together with Luke? Would Sunset Curve had gone on to do sold-out shows.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think if we’d gone on to be successful that Reggie would have a ranch somewhere. He might have even released an EP of country songs. I think you and Luke would be together.” Alex thought with a bittersweet smile.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where do you think you would be?” You questioned the older Mercer, who simply shrugged, “I like to think you would have been happy. Whether that was with someone, who was worthy of you or just by being yourself. Maybe you would have started a charity or been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.”

Your e/c eyes caught the smile growing on your older brother’s mouth, bringing a lightness to your body.

“I don’t think it matters. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If we had survived, I would have never seen you again.” Alex confessed, “I think we were always meant to meet Julie.”

You went to open your mouth when your eyes found one of the last places you wanted to be. Somehow you and Alex had walked into the area where the country club was sitting just as it was back in the ’90s. From a distance, you could see the unmistakable form of Sarah, the girl in your grade who had always unwillingly competed academically with you. Sarah was just another girl with heavy expectations from her own wealthy parents.

“Is that Sarah?” Alex softly chuckled as the girl, now a woman, holding the hand of her husband with genuine happiness, “She looks happy.”

“She deserves it. The rivalry all our parents had was insane, so I’m happy one of us got the least complicated life.” You informed Alex bumping your hip against his leg as you talked with the pink-loving male.

England, 1940s

Four youth occupied one of the many rooms in the manor that didn’t hold a candle to Cair Paravel grand size and beauty. Not that the four confused siblings spent time taking a gander in the room. Each focused on how they’d lived well into their thirties before regressing back to the ages they were when they stepped into the wardrobe. There were minor changes.

Edmund wasn’t acting like a knob, Susan inserting herself as dominant, and Lucy was quieter than usual. Peter, however, had a boiling rage he could barely contain within himself.

“Do you think Aslan did this?” Susan questioned her siblings. A single tear rolling down her face at the grief she felt.

Each Pevensie was in the beginning stages of grief. They had to grieve the life they had lost in a magical place. A place where the war didn’t ravage like it did to their home country. For the suitors, she’d only just started to seriously look into.

Not a single shred of evidence tied themselves to Narnia.

“Who else?” Peter scoffed, bringing a gasp from Lucy’s mouth. They had all proudly reigned with Aslan in mind. Not a word is spoken against the great lion who’d died for Edmund and came back to life.

“Pet-”

“This is your fault.” Peter told his younger brother with a grimace on his face, “We had everything we ever needed in Narnia. Why did you need to catch that stupid stag?”

Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, “You make it sound like our lives were perfect. Newsflash, King Peter, but it was far from that. You barely focused on your marriage, let alone Y/N.”

“Edmund.” Susan admonished, glancing between her brothers as if watching a tennis match. The only sister paying attention as Lucy stared out the window at the overcast day.

“It’s true! His marriage was a sham, and he lied to the entire kingdom!” Edmund shouted with a heated glare, “You acted like you were the most important person in Narnia, like the only reason the place worked was because of your hand solely.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, stepping right up to his little; Edmund had lost a lot of inches, brother with a sneer. Their hair mussed from rubbing against the furs.

“Just because you’re older and you had High in front of your title doesn’t lessen our power too.”

“STOP IT.” Lucy screamed, stomping her foot, “Who cares about that. How about we focus on where Y/N went? She was right with us in there, and then out of nowhere, she’s gone.”

“I know.” Peter’s shoulder dropped in defeat as it settled further into his mind. Not only had he lost the years he’d lived, but he’d also lost you somewhere along the line.

While you’d fallen out of love, or maybe you’d never even been in love with Peter; he’d faithfully kept feelings for you. Part of him had always known your heart was taken by another, but he cherished the times you had together.

“And she’s not in another place right now. She’s somewhere in the far future.” Edmund added with his arms crossed over each other, “She never elaborated on when, where or what the future looks like. How can we find someone that doesn’t exist yet?”

“We hope our future selves can find her.” Susan finished sending a look at each of her siblings, “In the meantime, let’s live our lives for her, so we have tons of stories for her to listen to.”

Molina Household, America 2020

Luke Patterson shook in his black vans, his best pair he owned, holding simple flowers Julie had gotten. Money from busking down at the pier for some cash the boys could have for anything they wanted. They always left money with a note when they got items.

The flowers’ stems were definitely in a battle to survive the grip from the scared teenage ghost. He’d started the day with a tickle in the back of his mind to ask you out. Just a simple date with no strings attached to see where it could go. He couldn’t chicken out when he’d already knocked, and the door was opening.

“Oh! Luke.” You gasped, blinking at the sudden appearance of the phantom. Luke’s eyes melted at the oversized flannel layered over a cropped dark blue sweater.

Your style pre-Narnia and during Narnia had coalesced over the few months you’d found yourself on Earth. Your love of cropped tops returned with a modest twist, the modesty unshakable.

“I know it’s been hard adjusting from Narnia, but I was wondering if you would go on a date with him?” He blurted, dancing on the balls of his vans with an expression of pure nerves.

Your mind flew twenty miles an hour thinking through the implications of accepting a date with this teenager. A dead teenager at that. Sure he was only a year older, but fate had a sick sense of humour. 

“I don-”

“I know in your other world you have a husband. I get that, but there’s something undeniable between us. It’s been there since the ’90s, and we always just pushed it away. I learned over the twenty-six years that life is too short.” Luke pleaded, slowly pushing the pretty bouquet into your arms, “Just one date to see if this is worth pursuing.”

You should have said no, but you couldn’t, “One date.”

Luke mentally pumped his fist in the air in celebration as if he was starring in a John Hughes movie. As if reading his mind, you teasingly thrust your hand in the air, the very same hand coming into Luke’s grip.

“There isn’t a lot that we can do, but Willie knows a guy unaffiliated with Caleb. Well, he knows him through a few guys, but he hooked me up. In this lovely basket, we have a menagerie of food that I can eat.” Luke spoke proudly with that same twinkle he always had with you by his side.

Your lips parted in pure elation. Luke Patterson was taking you out on one of the things that had been on your bucket list. A picnic date, something you and Alex each desired to enjoy.

Luke led you down a few streets to a park notorious for cute dates. Julie stood over a cliche checkered blanket. In her hand was an old iPhone or iPod hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker, a playlist curated of your favourite songs ready to go.

“You remember how to use this?” Julie questioned the teen ghost with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in his mission to unpack the food in a form that was as romantic as possible.

Julie nodded before casting a quiet goodbye to the two ’90s teens.

“How’d you know?” You questioned Luke as he poured a glass of the beverage he’d chosen. His ever-changing eyes flicked up to yours with an endearing expression.

Your eyes scanned his messy hair. He had taken the time to meticulously styled for his date with you. He’d chosen that gorgeous purple corduroy long sleeve shirt that turned his hair to melted milk chocolate. He hadn’t done a 180 on his style; he’d never tell you he’d styled his hair off his forehead into what Alex had dubbed the Prince Charming hair.

“1994 in the studio for Alex’s fifteenth birthday. Bobby snuck some alcohol he’d collected from his uncle’s BBQ and his father’s stash. We got drunk for the first time and played truth or dare.” Luke recalled with a smile. 

He remembered how much of lightweights they were and the way his heart fluttered when Alex answered Reggie’s question. He explained how his ideal date was a picnic in a park with either a guy he was seeing or his celebrity crush. He’d mentioned it was something he shared with you, and then all Luke could think about was taking you on a picnic.

“Dealing with Alex’s hungover ass was a nightmare.” You grunted, swiping one of the pieces of watermelon from a container.

“I can only imagine.” Luke chuckled, slowly shifting closer to you with a sandwich in his left hand. His right arm slowly slinked over your shoulders to rest, the movement halting as your shoulders tensed momentarily.

“Were you really gonna confess that night I disappeared?” You asked the guitarist currently focused on the delicious sandwich. It reminded him of his mother packing his lunch every day, even in his high school years despite telling his mom he could do it himself.

“I was. I chickened out.” Luke admitted and had he been alive, his ears could have flushed along with his cheeks. The bashful ghost struggled to meet your gaze, “I had-have this massive crush on you. I’ve had it since you called me your knight in shining armour-”

“When I sliced my knee open, and you carried me home.”

“I’ve never told anyone, but you’re kinda the reason why I started wearing no sleeves. The guys and us were watching a film, and you mentioned something about the actor’s arms.” Luke snickered with a smile that faded at your sheepish grin, “Oh my god, you knew.”

“Bobby let it slip, ‘I watched him cut the sleeves of his shirts, stitch the raw edges of the fabric, prick his fingers a ton, and he nearly broke my foot’”

“Yeah I almost dropped a weight on him.” Luke snorted, shuffling to lay his head to rest on top of yours. He’d quickly learnt in his mission to gain muscle for your attention that he liked the exercise. He continued to get in shape and grow some muscle, but he still wore sleeveless shirts for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Luke beamed at your words, “Nah, you’re the beautiful one.”

The rest of the date was everything you had ever wished for. Luke went above and beyond your expectations, even as a ghost. He’d packed a sweater to help you into when the night appeared, and the cold came. He held your hand on the way home and walked you straight to your attic door.

Luke didn’t push for a kiss either. He simply raised your clasped hand to press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

“Sweet dreams.” Luke murmured before he walked down the stairs. The euphoria ensuring he forget his ability to poof.

He wore the same lovesick expression into the studio where two ghosts waited for all the details. Alex and Reggie each buzzing in anticipation for their guitarist best friend.

In your room, you analyzed your feelings closely.

The guilt wasn’t as suffocating as you’d anticipated after going on a date that wasn’t with Peter. Just the guy that had been a reason your marriage with Peter wasn’t how it should have been. You also knew in your heart that Peter would want you to be happy and move on. In fact, in the last two years of your marriage, things had changed to just being two best friends married. 

Your eyes met the window of your attic bedroom with a small smile. Your right hand slowly sliding the symbol of love from your finger. For the first time in a very long time, your wedding and engagement band left your hand.

“I’ll always love you, Peter Pevensie.” You murmured from your place in front of your dresser. The two rings slid into the old jewellery box where they would stay.

The only signs of your previous relationship status are just memories and a pale line on your ring finger.

Time to move on. Time to accept that Narnia was in the past and not in your future. Time to accept that Luke Patterson always had and always would hold your heart in his hands.

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[woahajimes]

Jon Kent had become an excellent liar. 

“We're never finding Damian.” 

That was a lie, although it could also count as truth. They were never finding Damian. 

He was. 

He didn’t have any of this information assured, but he was trusting that it kept real. He had known Damian for at least a year and a half, perhaps even less, but it had felt like forever. It was funny how people changed over time. 

When he met Damian, things were rocky. Jon actually despised Damian, he tried to get away from him. He’d always make excuses for leaving, either with Kathy, or his dad, or Maya, even. Damian had been too cocky, a little far too confident. 

Too sure of himself and his abilities, it made Jon angry. 

It filled him with envy. 

When they were sent to boot camp, Jon realized something. Damian was, sure, older than him, and more mature, and maybe not taller, but he was more skilled than Jon in almost everything he could do. 

Damian was, in a way, just like him. A small way, of course. Nothing big, they weren’t mirror on mirror. Jon hadn’t been raised by a supervillain grandfather, and Damian wasn’t a half-breed between an alien and a human.

That was really the reason that he offered Damian the granola bar. He realized the small chance that they were similar. They were both lost, in different ways, but lost altogether. Jon didn’t actually know if Damian had ever been lost, if Damian even knew that being lost meant. 

Maybe someday he’d find out. 

When Damian slipped into his room, mocked him for going to sleep while the moon was still living, when he dragged him out the window, mocked him once more for not being able to fly, that’s when Jon knew there was something. Something in Damian that made Jon want to stay, just for a while longer. 

When they matched in school, just a few educational years of a difference, nothing much, Jon was psyched. They were already close friends, even though not much had passed since Damian had visited him at night that first time. 

What could he say? They became friends pretty quickly. 

When Kid Amazo destroyed their headquarters, Jon and Damian had become pretty close friends. They were actually joking with each other, and mocking each other and making fun of each other, as friends do. Of course, Jon wouldn’t exactly know this by the palm of his hand, for friends weren’t exactly his area of expertise. 

Yet Damian felt like a friend, like a best friend. 

After all, he had saved him, when Jon was drowning at the bottom of Morrison Bay, given him a rebreather, and swam Jon’s limp, unconscious body for a few minutes, until Jon regained consciousness. 

Saving each other’s lives, they were practically inseparable. 

Their second Summer together came around, the whole gig with the cube of the fortress and the primary colours of Jon. If he was being honest, he really enjoyed that summer, perhaps the best summer in his ten years of life. Jon had always wanted a sibling, and that summer it felt like he had hit the jackpot. He could finally say that Damian was his best friend, at least without getting elbowed in the stomach. The golden kryptonite, Jon took it as a gift, being split in two, it was a portion of something he had wanted for so long: A brother. And even though having somewhat of a twin wasn’t as fun as he had expected, he enjoyed it, for as long as it lasted. 

Jon remembers telling Damian that he’s going to spend time with his grandfather. Jon was spending the night at the manor, he was sitting in front of the TV. 

“Hey, D?” Jon turned from the TV, he looked at Damian. “What are we doing this summer?” 

Damian drifted his eyes from the screen. He looked at Jon. “What do you mean?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Summer is in like two days, dummy.” 

Damian shrugged, his eyes wandering back to the TV. “Nothing much, why?” 

Jon turned back to face the TV. “I think I’m going to go see my grandpa.” 

“Cool.” And that had been that. 

Jon should have told Damian a bit more, maybe then he would have been opposed to Jon leaving. Instead, he had left out minor details from Damian, details Clark had told him when Jon had left, when Jon had already spent a few years in the volcano prison. 

Jon had to admit that his time in the volcano prison had messed him up a bit. He had thought about Damian a lot, more than he’d like to admit. If Jon was around… what? Fifteen? Then Damian would have been around eighteen. It struck him a few days later, just how much he’d missed. Damian would have already left the school, maybe gone to some college for smart super-hero ninjas. Probably forgotten all about him, about the summer of super and the Kid Amazo and all the things that Jon held tight to his chest. He probably forgot about the time they played Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid with pillow forts and nerf guns, about the times they ate cotton candy, sitting on the roof of the Carousel in the Hamilton fair. Pairing up for sports, even though they were three years apart in grades. 

Damian had probably forgotten about all that. 

It was really the Hamilton fairs that got to Jon. He used to love those as a kid. He went for the first time when he was nine, second time ten, third time eleven. The second time he went, it had been Jon’s first year since meeting Damian.

Damian couldn’t go for some mission with Batman, but Jon had met up with Kathy, He told her all about his adventures with Damian. She kept quiet, mostly because Jon wouldn’t be. It was pretty insane to think that this had all been in the same year, Jon meeting Damian, Jon moving away from Hamilton, to a private school, creating a public figure alongside Damian: the Super Sons. Nearly drowning in Morrison Bay, his mom almost killed, it was a bit too much for the mind of a 10-year-old.

Yet Jon got to the part in which he called Damian his best friend, and Kathy spoke up.

“Jon,” She stopped what she was doing and she met eyes with him. “What is it you even like about Damian?”

The question had caught him off-guard. “I- He’s kinda nice someti-”

“No,” Kathy interrupted him. “Not really, no. He’s not that nice at all.”

Jon kept quiet. He shrugged it off with a simple “I guess so,” and the night kept moving. He returned home, but Kathy’s question rung in his ears.

“What is it you even like about Damian?”

Jon sat on the office chair in his room, a marker on his hand. He stared blankly at the 9x9 whiteboard in front of him. He uncapped the marker and wrote down Damian’s name. 

He’s funny sometimes, Jon thought to himself. When he’s not being mean. He decided to write that down. 

He’s really smart, too. Jon wrote that down as well. 

He wrote down a few more things, all jots, and he reminded himself of the paper he had written for school not long ago. He took out his backpack, his binder, carefully opened the rings and slid out his paper. He started skimming it. 

“ ‘If I had to describe Damian in one word, it would be dependable,’ Jeez,’ Jon whispered into the room. “What was going on in my head?” 

He kept reading. “ ‘No matter what, when the chips are down, he always takes care of me.’” Yeah, that part was true. 

He read the last part in his head. I know I can trust him no matter what kinda trouble we find ourselves in.

Jon capped the marker, he deleted everything he had written on the whiteboard. He didn’t need a list for all the things he liked about Damian. He knew already, Damian was his best friend, no questions needed. 

Jon had done and said things he wasn’t proud of. He for one, developed new habits, bad habits. He wanted to pin an excuse on them, that it wasn’t his fault that he had developed such habits. It was just his reaction to being put in situations like that. Example taken, Jon had started to talk to himself. He wasn’t exactly sure if it was a habit or a sign that he was going insane, but he didn’t like it altogether. Remembering it was torture, it was a habit he started in the volcano prison. 

Jon clearly remembers that the first time he talked to himself, to Damian. When exactly, he wasn’t sure, but Jon had a hard time getting used to the lack of things, in this case, a small daily occurrence he shared with Damian. 

Their shared habit started in their first sleepover, it had rooted from something they were watching on the TV. The woman on the screen was putting her kids to sleep, and she asked her youngest boy, “What was your favourite part of the day?”, to which the boy answered “spending time with you, mom.” 

Damian snorted. “Let’s  watch something else.”

Jon whipped his head around and looked at Damian. “Let’s pick a movie.” His eyes beamed, he was grinning. 

They had picked out a movie they never got tired of rewatching: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. They had turned off the movie early, Alfred coming in and telling them to get ready to sleep. 

Each in their perspective beds, both had been quiet for a while, until Damian spoke up. He pitched his voice, and said, “What was your favourite part of the day?” Mimicking the woman. 

Jon snickered. “Spending time with you, Dami.” He pronounced the new nickname like ‘Day-me’, and heard Damian make a vomiting sound. 

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Damian sat up, and Jon did as well. “I will end you, Kent.”

Jon waved his hand, he could make out Damian’s expression even with the lights turned off. “Pfft, what about Dami?” He pronounced it like ‘D-ah-me’. 

Damian’s expression softened. “Mother used to call me that,” he said. “She wasn’t very fond of nicknames, but I guess she liked that one.”

Jon felt heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to touch a sore subject. He knew there was a complicated relationship with Damian and his mom. “I think I’ll just stick with ‘D’.” he said quickly. 

Damian laid back down on his bed, he turned away from Jon. “No, it’s fine. Whatever helps you sleep at night, J.” 

Jon still sat on the bed, he arranged his pillow. “D?”

“Yeah?”

“‘Hukka’” 

Jon could have sworn Damian smiled, just a little. “‘Hukka’, Jon.”

It was embarrassing to sorts, Jon had to admit. Whispering ‘Hukka’ to himself at night, swearing that he could see Damian if he just squinted a little bit. Asking Damian how his day went, swearing that he could almost hear an answer, the things you did for lost best friends. 

Jon had also thought about Damian, yet in more ways than those. Sometimes he wondered if Damian still wore turtlenecks, if he had made any new friends. What if he had gotten a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Worse, what if Damian had found a new best friend? A new super-hero partner, someone that didn’t leak tears when they watched movies like Coraline. Someone more like Damian, like a… super-smart ninja assassin. 

When Jon finally spotted earth, a late teen, he started thinking about everything that could have been. Perhaps if Jon hadn’t left, him and Damian would have been having ice cream and maybe getting their own statue as the super sons. Maybe they’d have moved past the Super sons. 

Jon wondered where Damian was now. Maybe he was Batman, although Jon secretly wished that he wasn’t. He had always thought that Batman was cool, but it wasn’t really Damian. Batman was in a way, everything that Damian wasn’t. But if Damian wanted to be Batman, then Jon really didn’t see why not. Could Jon be the Superman to his Batman? Maybe? 

It took him as an overall surprise, realizing that only three weeks had passed. It made hope linger in his stomach, a fluttery feeling. Maybe he hadn’t missed so much after all. 

But Damian had stared at him like a stranger, like he used to stare at the boys at school. It made Jon’s heart stop beating, just for a few moments. He wanted to cry on Damian’s shoulder, even if Damian had only aged three weeks. Damian had rejected him, and that hurt more than Jon could have expected. Damian had collected himself, after a short time, and they spent the night together. Then, before Damian left, he hugged Jon, tightly. Maybe Damian was also feeling what Jon was. 

Maybe his letter proved that. Maybe the letter was Damian’s way of expressing everything that he felt for Jon. 

So Jon set out to find Damian, to ask him about the letter. To finally explain to him everything he wanted to say. 

[impala1967dwinchester]

Teacher!Dean Winchester: Crayons

Pairing: Teacher!Brother!Dean x Sister!Reader 

Pov: Deans 

Warnings: Cute Dean, fluff, lots of laughs, Dean making kids giggle, Dean being great with kids, Talk of Deans baby Y/n 

Summary- Dean and his sister (Y/n) doing cute little projects with his pre-school/ kindergarten class. 

Word Count: 3k 

Main Masterlist: 

Taglist: @akshi8278​ @deanswaywardgirl​

I’ve been working for the cute little mam and pop, day-care. This year will mark the second year I’ve been here.  

I grow-up with loving parents, and a baby sister. When Y/n was born I felt the natural pull to protect her, and make she was safe at all times. My parents, let me take that brotherly role in her life. My baby sister Y/n was only a year younger than me, so we pretty much did everything together.  

When we were in elementary school, I’d walk Y/n to her kindergarten class, and then I’d walk to my first-grade classroom. I honestly can’t believe I still remember that memory.  

I walked up the hall and to my classroom door. I had only had these kiddos for about three weeks now, but there were making great progress. And since today was Friday I thought it be cool if I dressed up a little and we had an arts and crafts day.  

I looked down at my watch, the digital numbers popping up it read “8:30″. ‘Great I had enough time to pull out all the supplies, and have a few more cups of coffee to keep up with the little munchkins.’  

I set my half empty coffee cup on my desk in the front of the classroom, and open the shades letting the morning sun fall into the class room. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the abundance of playlists on my Spotify account.  

This was the only time, when the kids weren’t in my room was, I allowed to listen to my type of music. “Heck yeah, let’s rock baby.” I said as I clicked the most recent playlist.  

I set my phone down on my desk and walked around the room. I had a fairly small class this year. I had 2 baby girls that were only about ten months old, but the rest of my class was 2 years, which had the attention span of a Nat, and had the most energy I had ever seen.  

Ya, see I love working with this age group. The babies which have to come to day care are the most adorable little girls I had ever seen. Little toes and babbles coming from them as I would change them into their afternoon outfit, or we sit down and eat.  

My other kiddos were just having equally adorable. They’d raise their hands for everything, they also asked the oddest of question, but I think what I love most about being with these kiddos every day is that they make me so much happier.

I generally wake up in an over-all happy mood, but the minute my kiddos step into my room. I can feel the joy raise through me, starting at my toes and ending at head. And just like any day, I’m always the first to make it to the daycare. The second person to make their way into the building was my co-teacher. My co-teacher just so happens to be Y/n. She had a thing for being late, but I didn’t mind.  

Y/n walked into the classroom, setting her belongings on the rounded desk in the back of the classroom. When Y/n had told me, she had interned to be a part of the daycare I couldn’t help but feel so excited.  

Y/n and I’s relationship was prefect damn near unbreakable. Something about having her by my side thirty years later had a great feeling. “Hey big bro!” She said as she looked up after setting her things down on her desk.  

“Hey sis, you get enough sleep last night?” I asked knowing she probably didn’t, not with the way those two-year-old ran her ragged yesterday. Y/n and I had a system to how we took care of our class. I’d take Monday with the two-year-old, and then Tuesday I spent with the baby girls, Wednesday I was with the big kids again and then Thursday I was with the babies yet again Friday I’d take the big kids.  

Then the cycle would change and Y/n would start with having the big kids Monday. I went over to the paper section, pulling out craft paper, crayons and markers for the kids to play with. “Today if you can’t tell by my amazing outfit, it’s craft day.” I said walking past Y/n desk in the back, as I kicked out the raveling carpet.  

I set the paper down at my desk. The day care didn’t open until nine fifteen. “Sis, what may it be?” I said fancying my best London accent, doing things like this made me even happier, it got me in a mood to see my kiddos in the morning.  

“Tee time may be nine ten brother.” Y/n said trying her fancy on the old London accent. I got up, quickly turning my playlist off and standing neither my door, other teachers were starting to the same. I waited, and the first child I saw was one of baby girls. Her name was Amber. Her mother said hello handed me her Amber’s bags and then said a short and quick bye-bye to her daughter. “Y/n, Come get amber and bring her to the back room.” I said Y/n came running taking Amber to the back room.

The back room was meant for any kiddos under the age of one year old. It was a quiet space for them, a space dedicated to just them. When I handed Amber off, I heard coo at the Y/n, “Awe, good morning sweetheart.” I heard Y/n say has she walked father away from me and closer to the back room.  

The next kiddo was the other sweet baby girl. “Hey, Dean. I like the outfit today.” Said Poppies mother, and she handed me a sleeping poppy, and of course her bag for today. “And look you two match, how adorable.” Poppies mother said before kissing her baby's temple and then walking out the front door. The sun was starting to peak further above the horizon.  

I figured since Y/n wasn’t back yet that she was probably putting amber things in the respectful place. I set Poppy down slowly and softly. “Well, the two baby girls are here, you need anything with these two and I’m right outside okay, sis.” I said as I saw Y/n come back from the little kitchenette we had in the back room.  

AS Y/n got closer to me, she too noticed the matching outfits that me and Poppy were wearing. “You and poppy match today!” She spoke. Both poppy and I were wearing striped shirts, and dark blue overalls. The only different was that Poppy had a cute little bow in her short hair. “Okay, I’ve got to go out into the classroom and get ready for the other kiddos.” I said to Y/n before walking out of the back room.  

When I made it to the door, Justin, Rachel, Cassie, and Paula were standing outside with their parents. ‘Good morning!” As each kid kissed their mothers' cheeks and ran over to me.  

after all the parents had left, saying their goodbyes. We all went into the classroom. Like I said before my classroom room size was fairly small. Which I of course didn’t mind.  

The kids put all their belongings on the little racks, and ran over. In the morning time we’d sit around in a circle and say one good thing that happened yesterday. I never picked on the kids, I just let the first kid that wanted to go, start us off.  

Rachel was the first to start us off. “Yesterday, my mommy and I had ice cream for dessert.” She said her high and squeaky voice, making me smile. “Oh, that sounds awesome! Do you remember what flavor?” I asked sitting down like the kids were. “it was CHOCOLATE!” Rachel screamed the last part. “Oh, that does sounds yummy.” I spoke.  

The next kiddo to go was Paula, she started off by saying “When i got home yesterday, I help my daddy make dinner. And we had mac and cheese.” She said rubbing her tummy as she looked back at that not do long ago memory.  

Justin interrupted me before I could say anything “Mr. Dean? Where’s miss Y/n?” He spoke. playing with his shoe strings. “That a good question, but remember we have to raise out hand if we are going to ask a question.” I spoke. “I’m sorry.” Justin said.  

“To answer Justin question, Miss Y/n is in the back room’ I said pointing towards the door in the back. ‘She’s taking care of the babies today, like I did yesterday.” I spoke.  

“Really?” The four kids said in unison. I laughed a little. “Yes, Now Justin would you like to share your good thing?” I asked. “Of course, I want to share Mr. Dean. Yesterday, I helped my sissy with her make-up.” He said putting both his hands on his hips.  

I again laughed, another reason why I love working with kids. They are always no matter what so eccentric. “Okay Cassie, what was one good thing that happened yesterday?” I asked. Cassie and I had a rocky start in the begging of class. She was an overly shy girl, and talked softly. But she grew comfortable with me. “Mr. Dean?” She asked getting up from where she had been sitting. “Can I whisper it to you?” She asked.  

I just shook my head; she came closer and cupped her hands around my ear. “Yesterday, I told my mommy and daddy I couldn’t wait to come back to class.” She said in a very quiet whisper.

Awe I thought to myself, and said out loud. “I’m glad your excited to come to see me.” wrapping one of my arms around Cassie already small body and hugged her. “Okay kiddos, since today is the last day of the week. We’re are going to arts and crafts.”  I spoke.  

“Yay!” Justin said getting up and walking over to the little table. I looked over at Cassie, and smiled. she gave me a short smile and walked over to where Justin was. So, I got up and made sure that Rachel and Paula were walking with me. Once they were all sitting down at the table.

I grabbed the different colored papers, and the crayons and markers. Placing everything in the middle so they would be able to share. "Now kiddos, if you want anything else. I will be at my desks.” I spoke.

I sat down at my desk, trying to figure out anything else that I could do with the kiddos since today was Friday. ‘We could sit down and watch a movie; I could wait for them to do finished with their crafts, and then do another craft all together.’ I thought to myself.  

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard the back-room door open, “Um, Mr. Dean. I need your help!” Y/n said. The kids rose their heads, but went back to coloring when they noticed it was just Y/n. “Listen kiddos, I have to go help miss Y/n, so just continue doing your drawing.” I spoke. I heard a “Okay, Mr. Dean.”  

I walked to the back-room, Y/n walked back through the door, not shutting it. “What’s up Y/n? ” I asked. “I just needed your help, getting them into their afternoon clothes. They both had accidents.” Y/n said walking over to grab Amber and Poppy’s bag.  

“Alright then, let's get started.” I said taking Amber’s bag. When I came over to where Y/n and had laid them out on the soft blanket on the floor, Amber had her small hand wrapped around her small ankle chewing softing on her big toes. “Awe sweetie, not that icky.” I said taking her foot from her mouth. Amber’s mother had packed two different outfits, one being a short sleeve shirt that said “Daddy's girl!” in purple glitter with a black skirt. Her second outfit was a long sleeve that had a momma and baby elephant on it, with blue leggings.  

I held up either one of the shirts, I know she’s only ten, but I bet her Amber’s mom is letting her choose some sort of her outfits. I held the shirts up and Amber did the thing that most kids her age do which is grabby hands. Amber wanted to wear the elephants, which meant she was pants.  

So, I lightly lifted Amber's head to let me put her head in through the hole at the top of the shirt, then I had to grab her arms. Amber had this thing when you changed her cloths. All the sudden she’d become a wiggle worm. Finally, after a few minutes of trying to grab her arms, she let me. I gently put her hands and arms through the holes. Afterwards I put her leggings on and I sat her up in my lap.  

“The kiddos out there asked where you were today?” I said catching Y/n attention. “Did they? Awe that’s cute” She said had she lifted Poppy into her lap. “I’ve got them drawing out there, since it’s Friday.” I said “I figured you go easy on since today is Friday. Yesterday I tried to teach them number one through twenty, but it didn’t work out as I planned.” Y/n said laughing a little when poppy babbled into her lap.  

“I was thinking that we could let them watch a Disney movie and feed these girls, maybe go for nap time too.” I said lightly bouncing Amber in my lap, and she chewed on her binky. I saw Y/n face contort like it always did when she was thinking.  

“I don’t see why not; what movie were you thinking?” Y/n asked. Without missing a beat “Frozen” I said, a little giggle erupted from my younger sister. “Okay, I guess we got a plan then.” She said putting Poppy on her hip, and walking towards the door, so I followed her. “Let’s go Amber!” I said putting her on my hip and walking out of the room.  

When I walked out the kiddos were still coloring and drawing. “Alrighty kiddos let’s be done with coloring. Because we are going to watch a movie.” I said All heads turned and looked at me, in the moment you could hear a mouse scurrying across the floor for how quiet it was.  

“What movie are we watching?” Rachel said after raising her hand. “Rachel we are watching Frozen!” I said as I put Amber in the high chair. All that could be heard for a few seconds was screams of happiness.  

“Alrighty calm down, kids. I want you all to go sit on the carpet in the front of the classroom.” Y/n said as she buckled Poppy in her high chair. “I’ll get the movie started, and you get the babies food.” Y/n said. “Okay.”  

I walked in to the back room and grabbed their food. Y/n had finished set-up the movie and it had already started playing the starting credits. She walked back over, and grabbed a fandom one from my hand, and we started to feed the babies.  

The kiddos watch the movie in silence, at one point close to when Anna meets Kristoff. The babies were done eating so we took them out of the high chairs and set them down in our laps as we sat behind the kids. When Cassie noticed that we were now on the floor, she turned around, and crawled over to me.

Laying down and resting her head on my thigh. “Are you tired Cassie?” I asked, all I got in response was a hum. I smiled, and brushed her arm. I felt the change in her breathing. I looked over at Y/n. “Cassie is out and so is Amber. Should we call it?” I asked her. She looked down at Poppy. “Poppy is asleep, and I think so is Justin.” She said looking at the kids.  

Y/n got up with poppy in her arms. She came over and grabbed a sleep Amber in my arms. And brought them into the backroom. I gently picked up Cassie, she didn’t weight much seeing as she was asleep. I moved her over to the sleep mat, and grabbed her a blanket, before walking over and noticing that the once awake Rachel and Paula were asleep, which made this whole process just so much more easier, Y/n walked out of the back-room and noticed the same thing as me.  

Whispering Y/n said “Looks like they did the job for us.” Giggling she picked up Rachel, and brought her over next to Cassie. I picked up Justin, now he weighed more than Cassie, causing me to grunt a little when I picked him up. I heard Y/n giggle a little at me. “Stop laughing at me, he’s heavy then I thought.” I said setting him down. Y/n grabbed Paula and did the same thing with her.  

“At least they are all asleep.’ She spoke. ‘I could use a lap.” She said leaning her head against my shoulder. I leaned my head against the top of hers. “How about we just take a little nap since it’s the last day before the weekend.” I spoke. She shook her head.  

We waked over to the shades that I had pulled letting the morning sun in, and Y/n pulled them back, and then she slides down to the floor, and sat down next to her and she rested the head of my shoulder, “I’m glad I work with you De.” She said a yawn passing her lips.  

“I’m glad you’re here to help, Y/n.” I said patting her knee. I kiss her forehead, something I had done since she was a baby girl. I kissed her forehead every night when it was time to go to bed. “I love you, big brother.” She said before she hugged me tightly. “I love you too baby sis.” Hugging her back.  

Completed: 03/16/2021 

[hauntedelation]

Looks Like Rain

Description: Chas tried his hardest to stop everything in the wake of you leaving. He was on a trip, but decided to take another after failing to qualm the pestering images in his mind.

Pairing: Gender Neutral Black Reader x Chas Reader

A/N: I really wasn’t sure where I pulled this from. I listened to a few songs that brought up a few feelings. And then I considered Chas for a little bit, he’s not seen much in this fandom but the young lad deserved some attention. This might be one of my sadder stories that I have written. (It also might not make any sense and I apologize for that lol)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: heavy drug use, smut descriptions (18+!), depressive symptoms, puzzling ending, heartache, confusing feelings, angst, Chas wants to do whatever he feels is the right thing.

Errors weren’t intended, please enjoy y’all!

➽─────────────❥

His thumb pad swiped against his index and middle finger, a little residue was still left over. The specks were embedded in just about any space they could reach; the fabric of his trousers, shirt, and now the microscopic grooves in his skin.

He rubbed and he rubbed. The particles melted away, leaving nothing for the nerves to pick up. Which bled deeper, farther than the nerves, down to the bone. 

Then there was the tapping, like a curious thump that you would hear in the dead of night only more rhythmic. 

Into the aging cushion below, his hands sank.

The fabric was as lush as can be and would put a hefty dent in anyone's wallet, but it was collecting stains. Dismissed and expendable.

There’s that wondrous breeze slipping through the opened window, sweeping the curtains up and about, untethered from gravity. Evidently untethered from anything and they simply fly for a few moments. 

The air was humid, stimulating on his damp forehead.

Chas can smell the night; the smoke and the concrete, the gas from the cars whirring past down below. He wonders about the other odors, those only emerging when the sun disappears, those that signal for the aberrant to come out and run around.

He was close to forgetting the stinging in his nose, the thick liquid dripping over his lips and down his chin.

Dotting his collared shirt, staining the couch.

He licks and he ingests some of the copper. It slides along his tongue, blends with his saliva, and he swallows. It’s familiar, reminds him of being in grade school when he would lose a tooth.

Except, he’s never really enjoyed that flavor. It was the tang that was carnal, rather grisly. His head falls back and he sniffs, using his white sleeve to smear it all away. It didn't matter that much if he missed a spot, everyone in the vicinity was stuck in their heads. 

He can hardly breathe through one of his nostrils but he starts to feel—

Seven, eight, nine, maybe ten minutes.

That thumping is back again and it smites like some sort of nitro, white-hot voltage permeating his veins. His jugular throbbed, pushing against the skin of his throat. Then he could feel it right against his skull, picking up by the second.

This was always the moment that you felt most alive. Didn't people say that? Your body works diligently to keep you breathing, to keep you moving forward. You feel the most alive when your heart thuds against your ribs.

Though soon enough, he's not feeling much, nothing in his nose or along the back of his throat. There is some tingling from the bottom of his feet to that sensitive spot near his ears, but it always disintegrates.

It's so close, virtually there—perhaps he's reached it this time. 

He wants to spring up off that couch, out the front door to run wild in the obscurity. He wants to do so much He knows that he can, just gotta decide on what. His father's voice comes to him, ‘the world is your oyster, son.’

Indeed it is, but Chas is afraid that those options his father had in mind were far more skewed.

Then he falls in his mind, he's strolling through the halls and inspecting those neurons zooming by faster than the speed he can blink. He sifts through those ideas, tosses away the unappealing. Chas sits and reflects.

He gnaws at a hangnail, and he ponders: 

‘What about grabbing those keys off the counter?’ Just a little fresh air, feel the wind on your face and push through your hair. 

For the life of him, he can't recall if he's ever taken a drive like that. ‘Have you?’

This is what he asked himself: 'You know where you drive so fast that everything is just a blur? All the colors look like streaks then.

He examines his desire, weighing his options. It's been a long time since he's left that stuffy apartment. No one would be able to stop him, really. 

‘Chas, consider how much it would wake you. You might feel even better.’

Through the badly marred reflection of the glass table, he sees the red smudged on his chin and lips, drying slowly and flaking. He sees his grease-tinged hair, no longer in that neat part that he always styled it in. 

There's more crimson, like tree roots through the whites of his eyes. There is more contrast with his irises yet they're just about covered with black. They sting every time he closes them.

Chas understands that it's been days since he's laid his head down and slept, been around the same time from him eating last. It was that cycle. He never felt hungry, so he didn’t eat. He didn't feel tired, a few nights without sleep would be fine. He's done this many times back home, in the pristine walls of Bredgar Hall.

It was the warmest time of the year, the moon was out and lazily so. Chas could see it was radiating now and again. 

Next to that ray of light, the kitchen stove read 3:36 a.m. He could hear the vague snores of the people in his bed, each of the unknown, pretty, and contrived.

He thinks back to earlier that day. A sea of limbs, each moving with each other. Lips and tongue tasting his skin, teeth sinking in to leave marks. He remembers being in the center, wishing that everything was done harder. As if he needed the rough and the grating for it to resonate, to get his body to respond.

(It’s not like he needed to take a couple tablets to help him get ready.)

He would lay back and watch that orange light at the top of the camera-stand blink, the aperture capturing every movement, every sound. He would be adorned in those men and women, all taken in the flesh of each other—of him. 

But Chas would retain that vision like he was standing a thousand miles away. He was never there even after leaving an indent in the sheets. 

Time moved faster than he could comprehend now. Several months had to pass by, but he never found himself pulling away. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? 

The boy doesn't know what he wants. 

He can't feel a thing. Nothing inside his body nor the outside. He spoke with those faceless people, side-eyeing him in his expensive shoes, the creases of his suit jackets. Chas had wishes burning through his eyes and stacks of cash ready at the willing. He thought he was doing it right. 

They had to have noticed it. The look of a young man desperately clawing for the keys to warp reality, to forget that...Chas craved this, far more than any breath entering his lungs. 

And right here his mind is tormenting. Without a hand grasping at control, he'd begun to see a face in everything, one that was pivotal.

They weren't everyday features. No, nothing that he would see ever again. 

Something to your likeliness would materialize in the darkness of the bedroom, your lips and your cheekbones, your voice ringing through a group of people.  

He would blink, but no longer would you be there. So he tried his best to keep his eyes open, to focus his hearing. After each disappearance, there was him reaching out with those fingers, trying to feel for himself. 

Feedback?

Nothing, you weren't there anymore, just a void remaining. It was that sensation of static on his fingers in that blank spot. There was a rational explanation for it. 

So none of it happened.

➽─────────────❥

“I dreamt of you.”

You were still in that position where your head leaned against the white beams of the balcony railing. Your back was supported as well, and your legs stretched out in front of you. Your lap was reserved as a spot for his head to lay.

Your fingertips had begun to trace the line of your lower lip. Absentminded, it was a habit he noticed you perform while amid a thought or two. You had your eyes aimed upward, drifting over the black and swirling sky.

From his place in your lap, he was able to watch the clouds too—only that, the storm brewing above was not the true motive of his attention. 

Something began to tug at the corner of your lips. 

"Did you?” 

You turned your head down to him, peeking through the strands of your lashes. He felt your fingers slip through his hair, stroking against the sensitive spot behind the shell of his ear. He'd twitched a little in response, though he wasn't intending to run from you.

Chas scratched at his ribs and attempted to nod, his head hardly moving against you, all before gathering the memories of that night.

"Yeah, but of course I was in it too."

It took a moment, but you didn't say anymore, you didn't rush him. Chas waited after a low roll of thunder, explicating,

“You and I were sitting in an overgrown field, there was grass but some yellow and orange flowers around us. We couldn't have been older than five. The sky was clear and bluer than I had ever seen it. You were located right next to me, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. I was too, only I was cradling my right arm. It was covered in a hard, green cast. It looked fresh like I just had it put on."

"How did you know it was me sitting next to you?" 

You let out this light, airy laugh, and it stirred quite the mess inside of his stomach. Chas' eyes widened, not helping the inhibited expression on his face. 

"Uhm–"

He'd forgotten that he never saw what you looked like as a child. He racked his brain,

"I could tell because of the way that your face was shaped, your eye color, and your nose. You didn't appear too different than what you look like now, only smaller."

You pinched his earlobe in jest. 

"You were wearing jean overalls that had grass stains on them, I think I was wearing something similar. We were chattering happily but I remember feeling sorry for myself. I couldn't do much without my right arm. You appeared quiet, drawing shapes in the dirt. I didn't understand why until you whispered: 'I'm sorry for chasing you with a frog. I didn't mean for you to fall down.'"

Chas’ fingers twisted around a loose string in the blanket, he paused to gaze at his fidgeting. 

"I told you that it was okay and that my parents were only concerned about me. I took the blame for getting hurt and you sniffled, wiping away a few tears. After a little bit, you scooted closer and asked me if it hurt. Your finger dragged along the rough surface of the cast, and I shook my head. 'It only hurts if I bump the cast on something.' So you stopped and looked up at me."

Your fingers began to slow in his hair. Chas paused once again, and he gaped up at you, reflecting. You were inquisitive but the rest of you was unreadable. He could feel that he held all the interest you could give, not missing a word. 

Chas waited...for what? He wanted to finish.

"We decided that we couldn't play like we normally did. You were trying to find fun things to do that wouldn't get me hurt again. We had trouble finding one—until a lightbulb went off: I had a black marker stashed in my pocket. I took it out and asked if you would like to draw on my cast."

"You were...absolutely ecstatic to have been the first person to write on it. You brought yourself real close to me, so close that your hair brushed against my cheek. You took the marker in your fingers and began to write on my arm. It took a long time, but when you pulled away to let me read it, it said: 'This is a magic cast that will make everything you're scared of go away.'"

"Even though you scribbled it messily, I could discern what you wrote. I didn't know what to say to you, I just smiled, thinking about all the frogs outside vanishing to somewhere far away. I wanted you to draw more, so that's what we did But, I couldn't remember anything else after that."

Your touch reappeared with more confidence, gliding down his cheek, his throat, and settling to the front of his chest. He had gone to turn his head, still attached to you but looking through the balcony entryway and the shadows of the bedroom.

He waited until he could hear your voice.

"That was...some dream, Chas. I wonder what it could mean." 

He hadn’t thought about that. What could it mean? Anything and everything he supposed. You let out a sigh, 

"I think the last dream I had was about me playing the piano in school."

Chas hummed, suddenly riveted, you playing? That was certainly news to him. You only showed your skills in other areas. 

"Really?"

You smiled, taking a moment to consider, "Yes."

"I love playing, but I am nowhere as great as you are. You've got this way about performing that makes it look effortless. You play freely, pieces that I know are the most complicated. I can't do none of that."

This is where Chas entered a mental block, despite the shade of him glowing nearly sanguine. He knew how it went with you. A willful thing who declares every word with sure conviction. 

You never missed an opportunity to speak to him with firm approval, challenging his diffident mind on everything. Taking how gifted he was with a piano, he grappled with accepting that he was as good as you say. (He would if it was coming from anyone.)

Though his image had become so important to him in these past few years. All the eyes of his elders, friends—even his contemporaries were a constant force. 

Chas thought that shaping his image for them had become taxing, the most formidable thing.

No.

When your lips formed around those words, the accolade, the delight in your voice. He was tortured with it, repeatedly with no other stressor coming close.

If you did enough in one day, he could feel an ounce of acceptance for it. But, he wouldn't be able to grasp those words for long.

There was a reservation that tossed around in his mind, most frequently in those days he spent with you. Why? 

Chas looked back up at your face. "Why do you hold me to such high regard?"

This time you did stop, but you tilted your head down and scanned his face for a little while. Soon, he could feel your fingers tap the center of his chest. With your head, you gestured for him to sit up, off of your lap.

When Chas untangled himself from you, he let go of the blanket, sliding his hands back to brace his weight. He stiffened them at the elbow to support his torso up. And, just as you did, his legs stretched out before him.

You abandoned your previous spot by the railing, rotating to drape over his thighs. At this moment you were just about eye level with him, your body, and his bare before the night.

His abdomen tensed under the light drag of your nails. 

You had intended to pierce his eyes with yours. It was only made obvious the way you took hold of his jaw, a different grip than he ever felt from you. 

"I'm not very good with words," you began.

Lightning struck in the western horizon, crackling and casting the image so vividly in your irises. It was right then, he could hear a thumping in his ears.

"For me, it's everything that you are. The way you do things, walk through life…You give yourself to everyone, no matter the cost. I've never seen anything like it."

You crept up and stroked the bones in his cheeks, so gently that he thought he'd never felt it. But if Chas could see from your position, he would notice the mindless patterns you were drawing.

"This life is fleeting, you know? Nothing will last, you, me, our friends, family. Even the things we make won't be here forever. It’s just that...something about you bends those rules."

And you grinned, again, with a particular intent. One of your brows rose a fraction as if you were sharing an inside joke with him. Though, he was looking at a puzzle. You were hard to read, always were. Chas got used to it in the time he spent with you. He chalks it up to the way you handled yourself

—but you were never this much. 

This night you were some sort of the zenith of riddles. What were you hiding?

A million things could have been behind it. Chas was musing but he said nothing. To be honest with himself, he hadn't been able to find an adequate reply.

You leaned in real close, just like the dream, only, your words danced on his lips. 

"There's something…thriving inside you Chas. I think it will last until the end of time."

You pulled back and came another crack of thunder. This one lingered and stretched wide above your heads. Nothing else could be heard between you two.

“That’s why I hold so much respect for you, there’s no one else like you.”

Chas exhaled a long bated breath, disconnecting your eye contact. 

He'd begun to feel nauseated. He let his head fall back to look up at the sky, hoping that the cool air would settle him back down. Chas held his focus upward, steadfastly, while your fingers found purchase in his hair.

Eventually, there was a wet smack, a light tap in the middle of his forehead. Then there were more, dozens landing on the balcony floor and the tops of your heads. The sprinkle escalated to a blanket of rain.

He could feel you steal a tender look at his dripping face. You were whimsical when you said it, 

"Looks like rain."

➽─────────────❥

Chas placed a glance at his dark surroundings, seeking the nearest interstate. He picked up sporadic wanderers. The tops of their heads glowed under the amber streetlights.  

Around each bend of the winding streets there seemed to be someone. Upon his departure from the city, a small group of young adults flickered in his rearview before they disappeared into the gloom.

He wondered why his hands shook, why he couldn't seem to steady them on the wheel. He would tighten his grip on the leather, but there was a shiver each time he removed his fingers to glide through his hair. 

Chas had a handle on how to drive this vehicle, he was sure of it. So he turned the volume dial on the radio up. 

He rolled the windows down, let the air flood the space and grab at his skin. The wind whipped sheets of paper about in the back seat, spilling them out the opened windows and leaving them forgotten on the empty highway.

He leaned his elbow on the metal rim of the window, taking hold of the wheel in his right hand. 

There are neon green signs. Cities and attractions approach in random distances: a quarter of a mile, two and a half. He wants to eyeball what is to offer. What was listed on the signs again? He squints as he gazes down the stretch of the road. He had passed by those placards quicker than he realized.

Chas would dwell, but—did it matter? 

Listen, he could drive all night. He didn't have a clue what was to be on the other side of this city, the state. This foreign land and all of the new wonders within it, Chas was a newcomer. He'd been too occupied in the past few days to sight-see. 

Yet the gas tank was full. He had nothing to call his attention, nothing to fasten him whatsoever. He could do as he pleased as if he was on the stretch of a vacation. He was.

The boy was just passing through.

He went underneath an overpass, another city limit was swiftly approaching. Indubitably, he did not recognize the name.

The melody of a song comes in from the speaker, and Chas reminisces for a spell. 

➽─────────────❥

"What are we?" he asked while you were busying yourself with unknotting his tie. 

The sun was falling behind the clouds, and in that old room where he was beckoned Chas saw pieces of dust dance by your head. 

Your uneven breaths pushed them away.  

Then those very breaths were captured in the juncture of his neck. You had removed the constructing fabric from his collar, kissing down and down, until you couldn't reach past the ridge of his collarbone. Little pink marks were to soon rise in the aftermath.

His eyes slid shut when you reached to untuck the shirt from his belt. 

"What do you mean?"

Chas inched into the fog between your knees, not helping his fingers to rid the fabric from your skin. You twisted, sliding your bottom further on the surface of an old table, rattling about books and trinkets.

You took the time to unzip your jacket. Beads of sweat accumulated on your neck. His eyes took in a droplet flowing down and vanishing under your uniform. He wet his lower lip and his palms fell to the tops of your thighs. 

You were red-hot, burning him up. How does he say this?

"I mean...what are we? You and I."

Butterflies chewed at the lining of his stomach. He was more anxious than he had ever remembered, skin clammy and sticky but you wouldn't have known the difference.

There had been an understanding, yet the line began to blur during the weeks to months between you two. He would feel sure with himself, confident in what he was feeling. Then you would do something that shatters all that. 

Under those thick lashes, he met the color of your eyes. There was an expression that was light as air, almost too broad. Even more weight flowed into his gut, seeing the ludic curvature to the corner of your lip.

You wound your fingers over the back of his neck and brought his mouth to yours. There was a vibration coming from your lungs, the familiar melody of your laugh. 

You pulled away here and there, murmuring, 

"We're just friends, yeah?"

Chas was brought so close, he thought he would fall into the table. He made a move to nod his head, humming a low confirmation. “Yeah.” He knew that, but…

His lips were suddenly released. The tip of your nose brushed along his, and for a second or two, you shared the same air. 

You grasped him with your other hand, trailing more wet spots down his chin, surely picking up the small pricks of hair there. When you reached that point where his pulse lied—he stumbled, hips falling forward. 

He wasn't able to control what arose from his throat. You were the same. Chas pressed onward and your voices were laced with hushed release, both echoing into the empty room.

Wider, your thighs opened. His hands were rehearsed, shifting the most sensitive spot on your skin, taking hold, and lifting.

He dug into you to the point where his belly touched yours, forgetting what his last thought had been. Until he could hear you, quietly, teeth grazing the shell of his ear,

"We're friends who like to do this."

➽─────────────❥

Over and over and over again. It had become more than an occasional blip, ignoring the importance of where he was or what he was doing at the time. What if he was in class? During a meeting with someone higher up? Or when he’s staring at a wall?

He thought about you far more than a friend should have. Much more than what should have been the understanding. (Whatever that originally was.) He lost the ability to distinguish what was, what you originally wanted out of this companionship.

And did you come to realize it?

There was an unsettling feeling inside of him. Christ, you saw past the veil he strung up, after all that time. The lingering looks, the book with your name scrawled in it about a thousand times or more. You stared at his boyish face and you were appalled by what you saw. Obsessive, wretched, flawed.

Well, then it made sense then, why it went the way it had or why it went at all.

Everything seemed to be flowing for the longest time, flowing continuously in the same direction. You still took his hand in yours and you still laughed in a dulcet tone. 

You'd tugged him out of his dorm room late at night after everything was quiet. He was greedy and drank everything up.

He could take it away by the last words you spoke to him, the last image of your face, or the weight of your voice in his ears. It was complicated, and he couldn't understand—

"I’m not staying in this town anymore. I want to get out, be exposed to more than this." 

Chas heard the song fade and the radio station shift to another. He had taken a right after departing from the highway, following the path of an old Mazda. 

The street lamps were softer than the city he left from, the temperature of each bulb matched, never flickering. Chas didn't sense unease, no. The atmosphere of this place was placid. There hadn't been much wind, the strange sounds of the night.

The number of people out was scarce, (unlike the last town). If you could see someone out and about they moved rapidly, almost like they rushed to get home. 

He shifted his eyesight and noticed the windows of a few businesses illuminate. The smell of grease and meat wafted up to his nose. 

Light was approaching from the east, the dark indigo sky transformed to violet. 

There was another hour before morning came and the boy still couldn’t figure out where to go.

He wasn’t running, nothing of the sort was in his mind. Only the feeling of finally moving, getting outside, and feeling the fresh air on his skin. He saw new, experienced new. He believes that, well, if he drives enough maybe he will start to feel better.

Ah, he wonders what you would think. ‘Where would they say I should go?’

He can hear your voice in his ears, saying ‘Go. Go as far as you can until you feel satisfied with what you see. Find something beautiful.’ 

And, Chas wants to stop to think about what that entails, what you would have considered beautiful. You were particular, a little unusual with your selections. He remembers how you collected beer bottle caps with a specific font on each one, or your affinity for yellow-colored notepaper. 

He struggles with his memory for a moment or two, finding the car taking a left at the light. 

He looks up and the Mazda is no longer in front of him, the multi-laned road is revealed to be empty and he is the only one cruising west. In the smudged mirror, he saw no sign of headlights, no people, no sudden movement. 

The reflection of the town behind him only shone back, with the barely noticeable sway of trees.

In the air, he can smell something faint. At the start, he can’t place his finger on it. What and how to describe it? He wants to say that it reminds him of his grandparents, their amazing home with the high stone archways, the land stretching to the ocean.

That’s what hits him, the sea. He can envision the waves crash and pull back now, how hypnotic it was to him as a child. The color was bluer than anything else.

The scent of the brine and the fish grow stronger as he passes several neighborhood streets. Soon enough he starts to believe that he’s found his answer for you.

➽──────────���──❥

He met you in a lone part of the local library, where the walls saw thousands of students from decades past and were in dire need of renovating. 

It was private, though, that's why you wrote the location down on a sliver of paper and pressed it into his hand. He was distracted when you had, eyes probably glued to a book or two. 

But he didn't forget. There was a peculiar way that you didn't stop. You didn't tell Chas where you were going. When he brought his eyes up to the world around him you had been long gone.

So he was there, a hand rubbing at his ironed blazer and the other holding the paper up. He stood outside and double-checked the number on the building before walking up the front steps. 

His eyes were taking in all that you had on the table. There were more stacks of books than he was able to count, more sheets of paper, pencils, note cards. On the floor close by your feet were crumpled up sheets. That was when he saw your damp cheeks and the mess your hair was in. 

You removed your head from your hands and the look you gave was reminiscent of someone lost.

“I can’t figure this out, Chas. This paper...it’s due tomorrow morning and I don’t understand what to put down.” (You had no one else to go to.)

Chas had been unsure in that instant, without a clue of why. ‘Think’ he would tell himself. Your eyes were so dim when he peered right in them he couldn’t help but hold his breath.

He remained stiff in front of you. In his hand resided the directions to the library, but it slipped and fell to the floor. Your tears dripped from your cheeks and landed on the crumpled paper, mixing with the ink on the surface of the pages, staining them. 

It took a moment for the boy to move his legs, his eyebrows rose and pinched together as he crouched close. To your left was where you opened up, his hand took hold of the pencil from your hand and set it down. 

Your chin was nudged upward between his index and thumb. And right then he could see past your reddened eyes, “Hey...hey hush now. I’m right here. It’s going to be alright.”

“Is it?” You softly bit. “I feel so dumb, I can’t see the answers right now.”

You brought the back of your hand up to rub at your eyes, and Chas frowned. He glanced at all of the papers on your desk, all of the scribbled words. To his knowledge, he understood that you were turning in a final paper.

His last day had been that day, only earlier and involving math and science. But that didn’t mean that Chas wouldn’t know the feeling you had in your chest. All the pressure building up. He loathed watching your body sink in that chair.

The details and the guidelines for your assignment would have to be determined next, and he questioned you what it all entailed. 

“Well…” and you sighed. You carried on telling him about what your Professor wanted, stopping here and there to close your eyes to gather your thoughts. You spend a few minutes doing this, not catching that Chas moved you so that you resided on his lap. 

It’s not like you never did this before, there had been only one chair in the room. The boy wasn’t even sure what he had done then, all his attention was focused on your face, the papers on the table.

He remembered you mumbling a sorry into the fabric of his sweater, something about how you should have looked for a second chair but he shushed you again.

This time you let go, you let all of your weight onto him and burrowed yourself closer. He scooted up to the table without any effort. Chas let you watch while he gathered a fresh sheet of paper and a pen. His left hand rubbed up your back, resting there.

In your ear, he whispered, “Let’s see what I can do.”

➽─────────────❥

He had approached an intersection adjacent to the entryway of Leobourg Bay. No other vehicle shared the road with him up until that point. The radio falls silent, as with the rest of the world outside his window. He tilts his head and, the wind didn’t blow, the trees halted their swaying.

A warm-colored light starts to shine, spreading over the car and blanketing his face. Chas takes a breath past his lips, gathering it in to fill every cavity of his lungs. The thumping stays as he enters the crossroad, and in his mind’s eye, he can hear you again.

Another moment passes by until his lids flutter shut, fingers sliding from the wheel of the car.

➽─────────────❥

Taglist: @mansaaay @feralrunaway​ @hope-to-hell​ @brandycranby​ @luclittlepond​ @madbaddic7ed​

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[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

Help? Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!Reader

A/N: James, Peter and Sirius want to become anamagi to help Remus on full moon’s but they need Y/n’s help to do so

Warning: Mentions of self harm, suicide and sexual assault, light cursing

__________________________________________

The bell had just rung and it was the end of classes for. She waved goodbye to Professor McGonagall before walking out of class and making her way down to the corridor across from the Womping Willow. She sat her bag down and grabbed a sketchbook before sitting in the windowsill so her eyes could see the beauty of Hogwarts grounds before her in a clear distance view.

The girl closed her eyes and let the pencil in her hand move freely liek the wind on a summer day.

Her peaceful anti-depression session was interrupted by the pounding of oncoming footsteps from afar. She opened her eyes and came to see the three figures of James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black before her.

“ And what might your reasons be for interrupting my peacful rest boys?”

The boys came to a stop and moved to sit next her on the windowsill, leaning in as if to whisper. Sirius, the one closet her, leaned in and said,

“ Y/n I know you're an animagus, saw you transform one day during the summer. We need your help to become anamagi. For reasons."

The girl leaned back in shock. How the bloody white did he figure out? Was Sirius Black a stalker? She quickly placed the abandoned pencil behind her ear and leaned in as well.

" First of all, how the bloody hell do you know where I live?! And second thing, don’t attempt to make up some lie to me about your reasons behind doing this because I already know why. You want to help Remus, he’s my best friend why wouldn’t I know?”

Sirius moved back in surprise.

“ I live two houses down from you. But either way, will you help us or not?”

" Of course I will dip shit.”

Y/n pulled away from the group huddle and moved to the floor to scour through her bag for a journal. While doing so the sock on her ankle rolled down slightly to reveal blood-stained bandages wrapping around it.

The girl quickly opened the journal and looked up as James sat next her on the floor and took the book from her, showing it to his other two mates.

This is how she found herself standing in an open section of the Forbidden Forest around a newly found Black Shaggy dog, field rat, A proud Stag and a rain soaked Remus Lupin during a lightning storm.

It was pouring down rain, flashing lightning and her and Remus had just witnessed James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew turn into animagi and back. By then you could see right through their clothing.

Remus was attempting to tell the group something but the pounding rain had been coming down too heavy for them to hear so instead he opted to use his arms and point out what he was saying. The four of them started to run back off to the castle in their anamagi forms as Remus struggled to keep up from behind.

Remus made the four of them change back to human form after they’d reached the castle and Y/n had to wrap her arms around her chest in an attempt to cover her chest. The shirt she’d been wearing was now see-through, as were the others’s. James silently jumped into the air with a fist-pump before Sirius pointed out that they needed to move back to the dorm room before Filch caught them.

Peter suddenly spoke up, causing the rest of them to turn their attention to the boy. “ We should celebrate.”

__________________________________________

Y/n walked over to the spare bed in the Mauraders dorm-room and grabbed a handful of random articles of clothing to wear before swiftly moving over to the bathroom to change. She exited the bathroom and went back to the dorm at Remus words.

" Who wants to be tribute and tell the house elves to bring food and drink up here with the cloak?" Everyone but James called out ‘dibs-not’ at the question.

The girl was grabbing one of Remus’ books when Sirius showed up and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her body off the ground and he walked over to where Remus stood, ignoring her continus attempts to get him to stop. Then, he threw her, thankfully into Remus’ arms where he caught and held her to his chest where she stayed and tried to calm herself down from the panic attack eating away at her insides.

Luckily for Sirius, James showed up the very next second, taking away Remus’s opportunity to tell off at Sirius for what he’d just done to the girl. James moved over and threw his cloak on the bed, motioning to where a small cart of snacks and water lay in the middle of the circle of pillows they’d made. Remus slowly pulled Y/n and himself down to the ground where she sat, chest heaving slightly, next him while he kept an arm wrapped around her waist protectively.

“ Okay lads, we’ll be playing a muggle game Remus talked about before. I forgot what it was called but I have a feeling it was called three truths and a lie or something.”

Once the circle went around to Y/n she began to panic, I have no clue what to say. Remus noticed this and took her hand in his before brushing away the hair from her collarbone and peppering light kisses to her shoulder to calm her nerves. Which did work in a way.

She took a moment to compose her wondering thoughts before stating, " I've been to more than four states, my favorite color is blue and I can speak fluent French."

They stared around at each other before Remus confidently said, " Your favorite color is blue, you've been to more than four states and you don't speak fluent French?"

She nodded and exhaled in relief, panic washing away.

Peter looked around the group and grabbed a candy before saying, " We've known you for about four years but we still don't know much about you. I mean we know a lot but I have a feeling there's more to you y'know. I mean, from what you've told us I never would've guessed that you'd even been out of state to begin with."

" Well, we play the other game, twenty questions, next so you'll probably get most answered then.”

The girl leaned back into Remus as the rest of them grasped different food as such and started to much down. Once they’d all finished their foods James decided it was time to start.

“ Y/n, my first question is, do you sing? Like even just lullaby’s?”

The girl nodded slightly and nudged Remus’ side with a cheeky grin.

“ Yep. I used to lul Rem to sleep when we were kids and I stayed over at his house.”

“ shut up...”

"Do you have any friends from other houses?" She sighed in defeat, " The people in Ravenclaw aren't the best friend material so I have a few friends from other houses. You guys, Frank Longbottom and one of my Hufflepuff friends, Nathan Stricklen, that's about it. I only ever talk to other people if I'm in a project together with them.”

Peter continued from where James left off. " Do you have any siblings?"

Remus saw as her body went tense and rigid.

" Yeah, an older sister and brother." Remus noted that Sirius noticed the tension and how he had decided to ask another question.

" First question, how many questions are we at? Second question, why'd you tense up? I really don’t mean to pry I’m just concerned." Y/n sighed and pillow flopped backwards before Remus pulled her back up, gently prodding her up, his hand in the small of her back.

“ Six questions. I have two siblings and I only tensed up because my brother and I don’t see on the same terms and I never see my sister.”

Remus looked at Peter with some weird expression and Peter looked back, shrugging.

Remus sighed before turning to Y/n with a guilty expression. " Peter is too shy and wants to know why exactly you don't see eye to eye with your brother and he also wants to know why you never see your sister. Don't get upset at me if you don't wanna answer either cause it's not my question."

" Okay. My brother has certain, views, on my life of which I don't like. For example, he says I should be shipped off and sold to some random dude halfway across the world who wants me for his wife and I don't want that to happen, he things I have a perfect life with perfect friends and family and grades and crap like that when he basically knows nothing about me, he prohibits me from dating or loving people because he says dad would get better profits from just arranging me a marriage with some 35 year old pervert in Spain, he doesn't care about me at all. I don’t see my sister because she died in her second year. That's your eighth question so hurry up and ask me another one."

Sirius came up and tentatively asked, " You don't have to answer if it's too personal but, how come you hate going home and you never talk about your home life?"

Remus turned to the boy with a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

" My dad became an alcoholic, lost his job, is almost never at home when my brother is. When my brother isn't at home, which happens a lot, mind you, he becomes an abusive, rapist, alcoholic psychopathic maniac and my brother doesn't know about it at all. He's almost always over at a friends house for the whole summer at a time so he's pretty much turned blind to what our "home" has turned into.

" My sister committed suicide two years after my mother died. If she didn't she would be in seventh year by now."

The boys stared in shock while Remus looked anywhere other than my gaze.

" She was in her second year at Hogwarts, age twelve, twelve. I was nine, she was twelve and I was nine, my brother was ten. He never figured out why she did it he just thinks she was mourning mum and it became too much.

Remus looked back at Y/n and bit his lip, slipping his hand into hers and threading their fingers through. Sirius stared at the girl, eyes full of knowing, while Peter hugged his teddy bear and James gaped at her.

" How, how old were you when the abuse and rape started?" James asked. She took a moment to think and Remus laid his hand on her shoulder, whispering.

" Thee abuse started when I was eight 1/2, he was raping my older sister at that time and, I hated it, when she died, he started raping me

" and I was nine at the time. I don't see eye to eye with my brother because he has no idea that this is going on and thinks dad is wrapped around my finger."

Sirius looked at the ground, avoiding the girls gaze while Peter did the same. James kept his head down, gaze on her as Remus started to pull her into his lap, arms wrapping around her waist, hugging her to his chest and chin finding it’s way to her shoulder.

" Guys, it’s really late, we should just crash and go to bed." James and Sirius nodded while Peter hopped up and made a beeline for his bed. James said goodnight before getting up and walking to bed, Sirius turned on Remus's lamp before turning off the big light and getting in bed.

Remus still made no move for his bed.

" Do you want me to move so you can get in bed or?"

The boy shook his head, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

Remus turned the girl around in his lap to where their faces were nearly touching and he closed the space between the two in a loving kiss of which she returned. After they broke apart he pressed gentle kisses to her Cupid’s bow and forehead in an attempt to soothe her beating heart. Remus wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s thighs and lifted her up, wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved over to his bed and pulled the curtains around it.

Y/n pulled off her shirt and bra as Remus looked away and pulled off his shirt. He handed it to her with his eyes the other way. Sure, she was his girlfriend but that didn’t mean he would look at her while she was in the nude without her permission.

Remus soon climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body to his chest as well as pulling the duvet covers of the bed up, after she’d climbed in before him. He nuzzled his head into her neck, placing a soft kiss to her sensitive skin, and right as the girl was about to fall asleep she heard Remus quietly reach out to her and say, “ goodnight kitten...”

__________________________________________

Drink some water, eat some food, take a screen break and never forget you are loved.

^ - ^

[hermannsthumb]

Idk if you doing requests or not rn buut, feriowind has been posting a bunch of vampire!Hermann and I needs some modern vampire Hermann and professor Newt...

uwu ily

SO I feel like I should open by saying a WIP fic with this concept by @coloredpencilroses exists and I Love it, so read High Stakes for something much better than this lol (and leave a nice comment). HAPPY OCTOBER!!!! warning for very mildly implied sexy stuff. EDIT: and of COURSE I forgot to tag @theloccent for my extremely belated fill for the “Vampire” square on my bingo card :/

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

Newt has always been an extremely persistent type. He considers it, naturally, one his greatest strengths—no theory goes untested, no question goes unanswered, no experiment goes…well, unexperimented. You don’t get more PhDs than you can count on one hand if you’re not persistent. You don’t get a date with the hot new engineering professor down the hall if you’re not persistent, either, but Newt is finding this venture is taking a little more effort than usual. That’s fine, though. He likes challenges.

Dr. Gottlieb was hired by the university at the start of the semester, after the head of the engineering department—who’s nearing her seventies—finally decided she’d had enough and announced her retirement somewhat last minute. He is, frankly, unlike anyone Newt’s ever seen before, a weird combination of cheekbones, wide lips, and a turn-of-the-century old-fashioned air that carries over into everything from his wardrobe to the stiff way he carries himself. He wouldn’t look out of place in a black and white photograph, Newt thinks. Or maybe even the illustrations of a Dickens novel. That’s not why Newt’s into him, though—well, not the only reason why.

In the entire month and a half Gottlieb’s been here, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone his contract doesn’t require him to; when he is forced into conversation, he scowls and snaps and mumbles his way through before making a polite excuse as to why he needs to leave the room right now, immediately. No one knows anything about him other than the bare minimum—that his name is Dr. Gottlieb, he lectures in engineering, and he exists. Shit, Newt doesn’t even know his first name. The little plaque outside his office just says Gottlieb.

The mystery just makes Gottlieb all the more alluring to Newt.

Anyway, his continued failures in winning Gottlieb over aren’t a result of a lack of trying. On Gottlieb’s first day, Newt stopped by his office to introduce himself. He didn’t bother knocking. Maybe that was his first mistake. “I’m Newt,” he said. “My office is a few doors down from you. You’re the new department head?”

Gottlieb looked stricken, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t say anything else.

“Cool,” Newt said. “Anyway, I’m technically in the bio department, but I teach a few interdisciplinary courses with engineering, so I requested they stick me over here to get a bigger office.” He cracked a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb said.

Newt tried again the next day.

“Your office is so dark,” he said, conversationally, because it was—lights all off, books stacked up everywhere, maroon drapes drawn tightly in front of the single small window. Dark and stuffy. “Feel free to stop by my office whenever you want a break from it. I have a corner one, so I have two windows.”

“I requested this office,” Gottlieb said, not looking up the article he was marking up.

Newt became desperate by his third attempt and did something that’s left him burning with shame even now, weeks later, and that would probably warrant the immediate transfers of sleep-deprived engineering majors out of all his courses if word ever got out it was him: he deliberately broke the department coffee machine. “Man, I can’t believe that thing is busted again,” he declared to Gottlieb. “Good thing I have a Keurig in my office.” Newt had gone out and purchased a Keurig immediately before destroying the coffee pot. “Seriously, come by whenever you need caffeine.”

Gottlieb blinked at him, long and slow, and Newt had the strangest sense that he knew exactly what happened to the coffee pot. “I never drink… coffee,” Gottlieb finally said.

For all Newt’s troubles, the list of things he knows about Gottlieb has expanded by two pitiful points: that his accent is English and posh, and his voice is low and sexy. Helpful.

It’s a chilly day in late October when Newt finally decides to enlist the aid of his interdisciplinary undergrads. Some of them—he learned after poking around their registration records—have a seminar with Gottlieb, and they seem his best bet at learning anything. A spouse—a first name—Newt would take Gottlieb’s favorite color, even. “So,” he starts class, unwinding his scarf off his neck, “that Dr. Gottlieb sure is weird, huh?”

In Newt’s firsthand experience, undergrads love to gossip about their professors, and his certainly don’t disappoint. Gottlieb’s classes are all held in the basement of the engineering building. All run well into the evening, after the sun’s set—most not finished until nine—and Gottlieb hustles out of the lecture hall the moment he can. He walks with a cane and a slight limp. He always dresses like that. He’s never mentioned any sort of family, and wears no wedding ring. He’s scary good at math. No one knows his first name.

“You’ve been an invaluable help,” Newt tells them all seriously.

He mulls the new information over in his office later as he grades some tests. So Gottlieb is a bit of shy, reclusive, genius. No surprise there. Well, his apparent hatred of sunlight is kind of weird (if unsurprising, given how pale he is) but maybe he just has sensitive eyes or something. Who is Newt to judge? At least he knows how to improve his next plan of attack—he just has to ask the guy to come over and sit in a dark room in silence with him. That’s probably Gottlieb’s dream date, actually.

There’s a knock on Newt’s office door. Newt looks up and drops his pen: it’s Gottlieb.

“Uh. Hey, dude!” he squeaks, unsure of how to proceed in this entirely unfamiliar territory. Gottlieb, willingly interacting with him? Willingly leaving his office? “Is there…can I help you with something? Did you want that coffee after all?”

“Most definitely not,” Gottlieb says coolly. He’s standing far enough back from the door that not a single sliver of lamp light from Newt’s office hits him, instead shrouded by the shadows of the dark engineering department. Newt didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “My students informed me that you were interrogating them about me.”

It’s not a question. Newt is struck by a wave of nervousness that he doesn’t quite understand—maybe it’s the sour expression Gottlieb is giving him, something in those dark brown eyes that are piercing through Newt. He feels, foolishly and briefly, like cowering under his desk. He swallows. “Yes,” he says, and adds, stammering, “I mean—I wasn’t interrogating them. I was just asking a few questions.”

“Why?” Gottlieb says.

“Uh,” Newt says. “I guess I was…curious, about you?”

He works up the guts to look Gottlieb in the eyes; he sees Gottlieb’s eyebrows jump the tiniest fraction of an inch. “You’re attracted to me,” Gottlieb says, another non-question, though Newt hears a flicker of surprise.

“Yeah,” Newt admits.

“I see,” Gottlieb says. Then, to Newt’s surprise, he suddenly smiles. “I’d like if you invited me over for dinner, Dr. Geiszler.”

“Dinner,” Newt says. He feels strangely dizzy; but, shaking himself, he quickly gets over it. “I mean, dinner! Yes! Shit! When?”

“Tonight, I should think,” Hermann says.

Tonight is Friday, which means they don’t have work tomorrow. By the time they make it off campus it’ll be almost ten—way later than people eat dinner—and besides, Newt already had a sandwich at around seven. Is dinner a euphemism? Is Gottlieb propositioning him? God, why didn’t he wash his sheets with the laundry this week? “Tonight,” Newt says. He stands up abruptly and grabs his leather jacket with trembling fingers. Why is he trembling? Nerves, he guesses. He’s about to hook up with total hottie Dr. Gottlieb, he’s allowed to be nervous. “Fuck yes. Let’s go now.”

Gottlieb is not impressed with the messy state of Newt’s apartment, and even less impressed with the state of Newt’s refrigerator and freezer. “Dinosaur chicken nuggets and canned Lime-A-Ritas,” he says with a sniff. “Hm. You ought to be getting more vitamins, Dr. Geiszler. I’m certain you’re deficient in something.”

“You sound like my dad,” Newt snorts. He throws his car keys on the counter and shrugs off his jacket. “There’s some leftover Chinese on the second shelf if you want it—just some lo mein. Or I could put a frozen pizza in the oven. Or I guess we could order something too?”

Gottlieb shuts the fridge door delicately. “How kind of you to offer,” he says. He doesn’t sound like he means it. Newt is suddenly struck by how bizarre a sight he is in the midst of Newt’s chaotic kitchen: buttoned up to the throat with his stupid shirt and blazer, prodding at the fraying lime lizard-shaped rug by the sink with the end of his ornately-handled cane. Out of time and out of place. 

“It’s Newt,” Newt says. “Please don’t call me Dr. Geiszler, it makes me feel ancient.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb says.

“And what,” Newt says, deciding to test his luck a little, “uh—what should I call you?”

Gottlieb considers him. “Hermann,” he says.

The name rings a bell in the back of Newt’s head. He swears he’s heard it somewhere before—an article, maybe. A book. Has he stumbled across Dr. Gottlieb’s research before without even realizing it? He’s on the verge of asking what publications Gottlieb’s been featured in when Gottlieb suddenly snags hold of his hand; then, raising it to his mouth, he kisses it. His lips are as cold as his skin. “Would you like to show me to your quarters, Newton?” he murmurs.

Newt shivers; he nods.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” Newt says aloud later, while Hermann redresses himself. “Now I know where I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yes?” Hermann says. He’s lacing up one of his Oxfords.

“I worked with his research in one of my dissertations,” Newt says. “Another Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, I mean. He was a brilliant mathematician from—God, 1830-something. German. His work was groundbreaking for the time, or shit, for our time, too.” He remembers seeing a portrait of that Hermann Gottlieb in one of his sources; the whole of the similarities between him and Newt’s Hermann Gottlieb (the dark eyes, the mouth, the cheekbones) are a little too much to be entirely coincidental. “You must be related to him, right? Like, he’s your great-great-great—”

“Yes,” Hermann cuts him off quickly. He turns to Newt and smiles. “A distant ancestor, certainly. I believe you are the first in some time to have made that connection.”

“Always thought he was cool,” Newt yawns. “Man, I’m tired.” The romp with Hermann had been fun, if not unexpectedly exhausting, and a little…out of the ordinary. The dude apparently has some sort of weird biting kink that left Newt’s neck stinging a little bit, but it’s cool, Newt doesn’t mind. It was like boning a vampire or something. Kinda hot. “Do you need me to show you to the door, or can I just stay here? I’m serious about spending the night though. I really don’t mind.”

Hermann fiddles with the laces of his other shoe, then, slowly, draws the whole thing back off. “If it’s not an imposition,” he says, and smiles again, shyly. “Though, I warn you—I’m a bit of a late sleeper.”

“Good, so I am,” Newt says. “Could you toss me the sweatshirt hanging on that chair? You can grab one for yourself too, if you’re cold, I’ve got another hanging in the closet. No, not--yeah, that door.”

They dip under the covers and get cozy, Newt taking on the task of big spoon, because Hermann is a cold sonofabitch and could use a little insulation. The last thought on his mind before he drifts off to a comfortable sleep is how strange it is he can’t feel Hermann’s heartbeat—though, he realizes, it’s probably just muffled by their clothing.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 8

November 10th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was in her hotel room.  

The Leafs had lost to Chicago.  Chicago scored four goals in the first period.  It was a shitshow.  And although the boys rallied back late in the third period, they just couldn’t get that fifth goal to send it into overtime and at least get a point.  William scored two goals – en route to a hat trick – but didn’t get it.  He did get third star of the game though.  Aberdeen knew he was trying to impress his parents and show off in front of his brother.

The team was spending the night in Chicago before leaving late tomorrow for Long Island, meaning that Aberdeen had the day off and could actually go and explore.  She’d never been, and she knew eight or ten hours was not nearly enough to really explore a city, but she thought about taking a city bus tour that hit all the major sites.  Truthfully, she was learning more towards just spending the entire day at the Art Institute of Chicago.  It was on her bucket list.  

After the stress of travelling and the back to back games, she was tired.  She’d taken a long, hot shower before putting on her pajamas and slipping into the hotel bathrobe.  With her hair wrapped in a towel, she ripped open a sheet mask and put it on, massaging it onto her face.  She texted Kasha, who sent her some pictures and videos of Minerva sleeping on her bed, which calmed her down but also made her wish she was curled up with her cat.  Eventually, Aberdeen lay upright in bed, trying to get some reading of Women Talking by Miriam Toews done before she fell asleep.

But then there was a light knock at her door.

She was so tired and so annoyed and so engrossed in her book that she didn’t even bother to look through the peephole to see who it was.  She forgot she was in her pajamas and bathrobe.  She forgot she had an entire sheet mask on her face that made her look like Jason.  She just opened the door, not thinking about anything.

Which made seeing William on the other side of the door all the more frightening.  

He had quite the amused look on his face.  “Hey.”

She shut the door in his face.  She turned around so her back was against the door, internally freaking out, looking around for a means of escape.  She seriously contemplated jumping out the window.  It was only eight floors – that didn’t mean too many broken bones, right?  She could…she could…

“Open the door, Aberdeen,” she could hear him from the other side, his voice low but loud enough that only she could hear.  

“No,” she said, having the wherewithal to finally rip the sheet mask off her face and shove it into the pocket of the robe.  It was still wet, damn it.  A sheet mask wasted.  

“Come on, Aberdeen.”

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Would you rather Brendan find me outside your hotel room or would you rather hide me in the shower where he wouldn’t see me?” William asked rhetorically.  

Aberdeen’s heart and her mind started racing, thinking that Brendan was on the way down to her room or down the hallway or something.  She rushed to open the door and stuck her head out, looking down both ends of the hallway.  William, for his part, slipped past her and into her room.  “Is he here?!” she asked in a harsh whisper.  

“God no.  Brendan’s asleep,” William said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “It’s eleven at night, Aberdeen.  The man needs his rest.”

She looked back at him practically sauntering into her hotel room and shut the door, locking it behind her for full effect.  She crossed her arms to make herself appear angry.  William still had an amused smile on his face.  “I reiterate my question – what are you even doing here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Weren’t you going to dinner with your parents and Alex?”

“That’s done.”

“So, like, don’t you want to spend time with your parents?”

“They have an early morning flight to catch to Dallas to visit Jackie at SMU,” he said.  “They went back to their hotel and went to bed.”

“And shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I wanted to see you, minskatt.”

A blush overcame her cheeks.  “Will, this is really inappropriate,” she said, trying to mask it.

“Why?”

“You’re a hockey player in my hotel room,” she felt like she had to spell everything out for him.  “If Brendan finds out he’d freak.  If Kyle or Peter found out, they’d freak.  Hell, if your teammates found out—”

“Even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything,” William interrupted her.

She stopped dead in her tracks.  That was not plausible.  Any single one of them would go to Brendan in a second if she and Will were caught together like this.  In her hotel room.  At night.  Alone.  “I have a hard time believing that.”

“They wouldn’t.  They know that I like you, so they wouldn’t.”

Aberdeen couldn’t respond with anything because she could think of anything to say.  He flummoxed her constantly.  He kept rendering her speechless and she didn’t know what to do about it – didn’t know if she could do anything about it.  She watched as he leaned against the TV stand, crossing his own arms over his chest.  “I’m asking for a third time now – what are you doing here?”

“Was that a sheet mask you had on your face before?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

She gave him major side eye.  “Moisturizing.  The traveling is drying out my skin.”

Will let out a slight chuckle.  He looked past her towards her bed, and she followed his eyes and looked behind her.  “What book are you reading?”

Was he being serious right now?  Had he seriously made his way into her room to ask her about sheet masks and books?  Not like she’d do anything else with him.  But still.  “Women Talking by Miriam Toews.”

“Do women talk in it?”

She audibly scoffed.  “It’s about sexual assault in a Mennonite community.”

Will’s face dropped.  “Oh fuck.”  

Aberdeen couldn’t help but snort as she saw the look on his face.  She tried to cover her mouth and her smile but the attempt was futile.  He looked so embarrassed and it just brought her so much…well, delight.  “God, Will,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back to grab the book.  “You are something else.”

“You like to read, then?” he tried to recover the conversation.

“I have a major in English, Will.  And I want to become a writer.  You can’t become a writer if you don’t read.  Well I mean, you can, but you won’t be very good.  And beyond that, I’ve made it my goal to read the shortlist of the Governor General Awards and the Giller Prize,” she said.  She saw a slightly confused look on Will’s face.  “They’re Canada’s highest literary awards.  They’re like – well, not really, but you’re Swedish, so – it’s like being a Nobel Laureate, but obviously the Nobel is much more prestigious.  I read them too.”

The smile that appeared on his face was so innocent and pure that she wanted to wipe it off his face.  She couldn’t handle it.  “I remember that you want to be a writer.  You told me the first time we met,” he said.  Aberdeen shivered.  “So what are you doing here with the Leafs?”

“In my quest for any type of job, they were the only ones that called,” she informed him.  “No newspapers or magazines came calling, so it was this or bank telling.”

He pushed himself off the TV console, making his way over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.  He looked over at her.  “I think you’d make a great writer.”

“Thanks, but you haven’t read any of my writing.”

“Can I?”

“No.”

It was Will’s turn to snort.  “Fair enough.  Maybe I’ll get to read it one day.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, smiling down at the book as she held it between her hands, being very careful not to lose the page.  “How was dinner with your parents?” she pivoted, not wanting to talk about herself or her writing anymore.  “I bet you miss them a lot.”

William shrugged his shoulders.  “I’m kind of used to it.  When I was a kid my dad would be gone a lot.”

Aberdeen thought the worst.  “Why?”

William looked at her weirdly.  “My dad was an NHL player, Aberdeen.”  He saw the shock on her face and couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Do you not, like, google these things?”

“Why would I google your dad?  I thought he was just…I don’t know, your dad!” she tried to defend herself.  

“Well, he is just my dad—”

“But he was an NHL player,” she said.  “What team did he play for?”

“A bunch.  He was a journeyman.  Alex and I were actually born in Calgary, but then it was Tampa, Chicago, Washington, Boston, New York…then back to Washington,” William listed off the cities he’d lived in.  “It was a lot of moving around.  A lot of back and forth.  A lot of missing dad.”

Aberdeen could never imagine moving around that much as a kid.  She was very fortunate to have lived in the same house her entire life, however old and small it was.  She knew William’s life growing up was probably very nice – much nicer than hers, in the sense that he had a lot more money with his dad being an NHL player and all – but all of that couldn’t make up for missing your dad because you couldn’t actually see your dad.  The first time Aberdeen realized she actually missed her parents was the grade nine orientation retreat her school ran, when she went to a camp in Muskoka for three days and two nights and got eaten alive by mosquitos.  She couldn’t imagine that feeling happening over and over again.  And not just over and over again…but throughout her entire childhood.  “But Sweden is always home?” she asked, trying to brighten up the mood.  

“Always,” he replied automatically, resolute in his tone.  “In the summers, when we’d be all together in Sweden, and it was just…you know, family time…that was the best.  Our house in Stockholm, or our house in the countryside…it was always amazing.”

Aberdeen smiled at him.  He was so clearly fond of Sweden and fond of his family.  If their Halloween talk didn’t secure it enough, this did.  She wondered how much he missed his siblings on a regular basis; how geographically, they were so far away from each other, but in every other way they were so close.  Much like she and Siena.  She missed Siena every day.

“Hey Aberdeen?” Will’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t kicked me out yet.”

She gave him a look.  He started chuckling at her scrunched up face, still glowing with moisturizer.  “Don’t push it.”

***

November 13th 2019

Aberdeen felt both mentally and physically exhausted as the charter plane landed in Toronto just before midnight.  The Leafs suffered another loss to the New York Islanders, John’s old team (who booed him every time he touched the puck, the savages), even though they battled back again from a goal deficit.  Will scored.  John scored too.  But it wasn’t enough.  Now, the team was officially on a three game losing streak (okay, technically only two if you didn’t count the shootout loss against Philly).  Aberdeen was just…tired.  She had the day off tomorrow to prepare for the Major Donor Dinner that night, worked Friday, and then – surprisingly – a full weekend off, since Brendan wasn’t traveling to Pittsburgh.  

To says she was looking forward to it was an understatement.  

“Who’s driving Aberdeen home?” John asked out loud as he always did when they came back from road trips late at night.  She didn’t know if he’d taken it upon himself as the team captain to spearhead the movement, but she didn’t oppose it anymore.  If they wanted to be chivalrous, she wasn’t going to stop them.  

She usually rode into the city with Morgan, with Bee picking them up.  Twice she’d gotten driven back into the city with Saylor and Kasperi.  She was fully ready to hear Morgan’s voice pipe up like it always did – especially because Bee was always on time and already waiting for them by the time they landed.  She even saw him about to say it, but he was cut off.  “I’ve got it,” Will said immediately, not even looking at her.  Morgan looked back at him, shrugging his shoulders.  That was that.  

Aberdeen noticed he drove a Volvo – of course he would, the Swede.  She put her carry-on in the trunk and slipped into the passenger seat, waving goodbye at Justin Holl who had parked beside Will and was already backing out of his space.  Will slipped into the driver’s seat, starting the car.  He looked over at her, the smallest smile on his face.  “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“You tired?” he asked.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Good,” he said, backing out of the parking spot, making his way out and onto the street.

“Good?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while,” he said, a smile on his face.

She side-eyed him.  What exactly did he think they were going to get up to in his car of all places?  She was wide awake now.  “Why?”

“You always have your headphones in on the bus or plane when Brendan doesn’t need you.”

“So?”

“So it’s obvious you like music, and I’ve curated a playlist for this exact moment,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone.  He really shouldn’t have been doing that, since he was driving and it was illegal to do so.  Aberdeen looked as he swiped through Spotify quickly, obviously knowing exactly where he needed to go.  

“What moment is that?” she asked.  

“Driving through Toronto at night,” he said, stopping at the red light.  She chuckled slightly to herself, leaning her head back on the headrest and looking out her window.  Of all the guys on the team, only Will would do something like this.  Bee never made any playlists for driving Morgan home in the middle of the night.  Hell, Saylor didn’t either.  She was more preoccupied with telling Kasperi the exact details of what she’d been up to while he was gone, or telling him where they were going to go for drinks and oysters after they dropped Aberdeen off. “You ready?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you put on Drake to drive through Toronto at night, Will, I swear to God…” she warned.

There was a dramatic pause.  The opening notes of Drake’s ‘Passionfruit’ played.  Aberdeen overexaggerated her scoff and disgusted face, and William’s infamous laugh was so loud it could be heard over the music.  “God, William…” she chastised playfully.

“Oh come on!  It’s a good song!” he tried to defend himself.

“It’s one of his better songs, sure.  I’ll give you that,” she said.  “But what a lousy start.”

Will’s jaw dropped.  “Oh, really?  You can think of something better?”

“I can think of a million different songs that are better,” she quipped.  She looked down at his phone sitting in the little cubby and went to grab it.  She scrolled through the list, getting more and more disgusted by the songs and artists he’d added to the playlist.  “Your taste in music is awful,” she scoffed again.

“HEY!”

“It’s true!”

“Okay Miss Superior Music Taste—”

“Okay, first of all, if you’re going to choose a Toronto artist to start a ‘driving though Toronto at night’ playlist, it should be The Weeknd,” she began, typing his name into the screen and swiping to add ‘Starboy’ and ‘I Feel It Coming’ to the playlist.  “Like, where is Tory Lanez?  Where’s Daniel Caesar?  And why is it all rappers?  This is so stereotypical.  You need better music.”

“It doesn’t just have to be people from Toronto,” he said, making a turn.  “And it’s all rappers because I li—”

“Seriously, this is awful.”

“You’re really mean when you’re exhausted,” he quipped.  

“If it doesn’t have to be just full of people from Toronto then I’m hijacking this playlist and making it good,” she ignored his comment, already swiping her fingers all over his screen and typing in name after name.  

Will would glance over occasionally, trying to keep his eyes on the road but finding it hard.  She looked so cute concentrating so hard as Passionfruit played in the background.  He bit his lip, trying to remain composed.  “God, you’re gutting that thing,” he said.

“That’s how bad it is.”

He shook his head playfully.  “You better hurry up.  Passionfruit’s almost over.”  Aberdeen finished off, keeping his phone in her lap as she let Passionfruit end.  “It better be good,” he said.

She shot him a playful glare.  “It’s awesome, thank you very much.”

As ‘Passionfruit’ ended, ‘Bride’ by San Fermin came on.  Aberdeen was immediately pulled into the sounds and beats, closing her eyes and let it wash over her.  William, on the other hand, furrowed his brows.  “What is this?”

“San Fermin.”

“Who?”

She shot him another glare – how many she’d shot him in this car ride alone, she couldn’t even say.  “Can you just listen?”

William gave it about a minute before he began shaking his head again.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t do this.”

“You’re weak.”

“Put on something good this time,” he said as she picked up the phone again.  He switched lanes to get onto the onramp for the Gardiner Expressway.  He saw Aberdeen scrolling through the playlist, finally picking a song.  ‘Green Light’ by Lorde.  “Lorde?  Really?”

“Don’t you dare say a bad word about Lorde,” she warned.  “She’s perfect.  Her music is perfect.”

“You think so?”

“She wrote Pure Heroine at sixteen.  Sixteen!” she exclaimed.  “I would give my left arm to have written like that at sixteen.  I was writing awful, pretentious poetry about stupid boys in my high school at sixteen.  And she wrote that entire album!”

William laughed, her clear enthusiasm and love of Lorde shining through in her words.  It was adorable.  She was adorable.  She was many things, but right now, she was adorable.  “Is she your favourite?” he asked.

“I have a lot of favourites,” Aberdeen admitted.  “But yeah.  She’s up there.  Do you not listen to her?”

William shrugged his shoulders.  “I know Royals.  That was the big one, right?  That’s basically it.”

“Well, you need to listen more.”

“Not the first time someone’s told me that,” he joked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

Aberdeen bit her lip.  She knew they were in the context of talking about music and her favourite artists, but that was a loaded sentence.  When she and Brendan made their way to the locker room after the Islanders game, she could hear Mike Babcock’s voice from down the hallway.  She’d watched and listened to some of his post-game interviews, and she wasn’t completely ignorant to the fact that he constantly, constantly, backhand complimented William and his skills.  It didn’t matter if William got an assist, got one goal, even two goals – it was like Mike couldn’t say a good word about Will without undermining him somehow.  She remembered the season opener, when William told her “I’m used to it” when she asked about it.  She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat.  “Will…”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, minskatt.”

She paused to try to collect herself.  “What, like…I mean, I don’t mean to be nosey or whatever, or intrude…but what – I mean…like what kind of like—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“What’s the issue between you and Mike Babcock?” she finally asked.  

Will looked over at her quickly, shocked that she’d asked the question.  “Hell if I knew,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.  That was a lie – he did know part of it.  At least, he thought he knew part of it.  “I don’t…I…okay.  Last year,” he began, “the 2018-2019 season.  It was my contract negotiation year.  I went unsigned throughout the summer because I was holding out for a specific number and a long-term deal instead of what we call a ‘bridge’, so like a two or three year deal.  I…I didn’t want to be anywhere else but Toronto, no matter what anyone else said.  I still don’t want to be anywhere else but Toronto,” he explained.  “And so, because of that holdout, I didn’t attend training camp.  I didn’t play basically for the beginning half of the season.  There…there was a lot of drama.  A lot of rumours in the Toronto media – really nasty rumours, some of them.  A bunch of talk about trading me.  It produced this really…I don’t know, this really toxic, like, cloud surrounding me.  A lot of people were angry about it.  But I got my deal – I signed on December 1st, the last day legally possible to be able to play.”

Aberdeen thought back to what he told her about his dad.  How much Will missed him as a kid growing up because Michael would be travelling for hockey.  How much Michael was gone all the time.  How every few years, the family would have to pack up and move to a completely different city, in a completely different part of the country, following Michael on his journeyman hockey career.  Of course William wanted a long term deal.  It was no wonder.  He didn’t want to experience what he had to experience growing up – being shuffled around the league – now as an adult.  

“The media did their job though,” he continued, breaking her train of thought.  “They were relentless.  Malicious.  They turned a lot of people against me – a lot of fans who were influenced into thinking I was a spoiled Swedish brat.  Overhyped, overpaid, waste of money.  A plug.  Getting in the way of hiring a good Canadian boy, forgetting the fact that I was born in Calgary,” he almost smiled to himself, shaking his head.  “So…I don’t know.  I guess Mike didn’t get over my holdout.  Maybe he feels bitter about it.  Maybe he thinks I’m selfish, that I shouldn’t have held out.  Maybe he thinks I’m an overhyped, overpaid plug taking a spot from a good Canadian enforcer or something.  But it’s all hypothetical.  It’s all maybes.  I can’t tell you why, exactly, he always says those things.”

Aberdeen didn’t know any of this.  She didn’t know William held out on his contract.  She didn’t know there was a portion of the city that hated just him specifically.  She didn’t know about bridge deals, long term deals, and about him wanting to be in Toronto – nowhere else.  She didn’t know any of it.  And that’s when she finally realized: that was her exact problem.  This was why she kept making careless comments that made Brendan so upset.  She didn’t know anything about the team; she didn’t know anything about its members, how they got to Toronto, how they liked being here.  She didn’t know the history and barely took time to learn.

“You need to walk into this building everyday knowing and understanding the history of this hockey club beyond just the surface level and what Brendan tells you,” Kyle told her after she went crying to him like a baby.  “But you already know what to do, Aberdeen.  You just need to find it within yourself and do it.”

She needed to understand the team as an institution, but also as a group of guys creating and carrying on the legacy of that institution.  

Now she knew.

“That’s awful,” she said, considering everything he told her.  She couldn’t believe a coach would hold something like that against a player.  “You…you don’t deserve that, Will.  Any of it.”

“I know,” he said, nodding his head slightly.  “You don’t have to tell me that, minskatt.  Mike’s just…listen, he’s a good coach – a great coach.  I mean, he’s won two gold medals.  And he has a very specific system—”

“William,” she interrupted him.  He looked over at her.  “Don’t make excuses.”

He smiled at her – a true, genuine smile.  And as he did, the opening notes of ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift began to play, and a shiver ran up Aberdeen’s spine.  She had to look away – had to – because if she looked any longer at him, she would spontaneously self-combust.  That, or lean over the centre console and do something she would immediately regret.  As she looked out the front, she saw them approaching downtown – all the lights and the skyscrapers illuminating the city, and the CN Tower lit up brightly in red.  “This is my favourite drive,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“This is my favourite drive,” she repeated, speaking up.  “This…the Gardiner going into the city.  Swerving through all the buildings.  All the lights.  And this song is perfect for it.  Absolutely fucking perfect.”

William continued to smile at her, looking between her and the road as ‘Style’ continued to play.  The riff, the beat…everything was perfect.  She was busy focused on the view, and on the beat of the song, singing it lightly to herself, her voice getting above the volume of the song only minimally.  She even took out her own phone and began recording the drive and the lights, no doubt to post on Instagram later.  She looked perfect.  She was perfect, at least to him.  He needed to utilize every ounce of self-control he had in him as he continued to watch her.  “This is really hard,” he said out loud, breaking somewhat.

“What?  Listening to Taylor Swift?”

He laughed.  “No.  All I really want to do is reach across the dash and hold your hand but I know I can’t.”

She blushed, looking down at her hands instead of looking at him.  She always had a few rings on – a few dainty ones, stacked, and one her mom gave her that once belonged to her grandmother – and she began playing with them nervously.  He signalled to get off at the appropriate exit.   “Will…”

“I know, I know,” he said.  He was biting his lip down, hard, probably to stop him from saying or doing anything else.  “I’m sorry.”

The rest of their ride was silent, since it wasn’t much longer until he reached her condo.  When they finally arrived, she made sure he knew he didn’t have to get out of the car when he popped the trunk for her to get her carry-on.  She rolled it back to the passenger window.  “Thanks for the ride Will,” she smiled.

“Will I see you at the dinner tomorrow?” Will asked out the window, leaning over the centre console.

She paused for a second.  He knew about that?  She thought it was an office personnel only event.  “You’re going?”

“Of course I am,” he smiled.  

She rolled her eyes.  “Of course you are.”

“Brendan likes to shuffle some of us out as a surprise for the donors.  It’ll be me, John, Jason, and Mitch,” he explained quickly.  “So I’ll see you there?”

“Yes.  You’ll see me there.”

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 1625  ⚬ warnings: none :) ⚬ genre: m rated, kinda angsty, kinda fluffy, a good mix of both i guess!

✧✎ synopsis: you just woke up in your best friend’s bed, and you aren’t sure how to feel. as far as you’re concerned, nothing will erase the night before.

✧✎ a/n: i haven’t been able to write all week since i’ve been so busy!! but i found a pocket of time to write this! i find that i’m really picky when it comes to choosing the right plot for jun!! i just want the best for him!! but i thought this was a nice fit! and smth to digest while i edit my other fic!

It was a little weird, you couldn’t deny it. Waking up beneath the covers of your best friend’s bed wouldn’t feel so unnatural, so awkward, if it weren’t for the actions that unfolded the night before. You spared a glance to the right half of the bed, only to realize the sheets were empty, nothing but a slight indent hollowed into the mattress. The sight led you to feel even weirder, until you couldn’t bear to look any longer and you roughly dishevelled the blankets whilst turning over onto your side, a loud huff escaping your chest.

You couldn’t stay in his bed forever, and Junhui couldn’t keep nervously pacing around the living room, dragging a hand through his frilled, chestnut hair. There was nothing to undo it, nothing to erase the memory or lessen the blow of the aftermath. You and Junhui, best friends since the ninth grade, had hooked up. Junhui currently shared the house with two others, but they had gone home to visit their families for the college reading week whilst Junhui had plans to take the metro home by Monday. You came over rather late to help him pack.

Everything had been going perfectly fine from what you could remember. By the end of the night, Junhui had a small suitcase containing his clothes and other essentials, alongside a knapsack filled with his study guides and treats he wanted to give his little brother’s kitten. But then, as quickly as all was normal, everything flipped like a coin toss. Junhui’s hand was slowly sliding up your warm thigh until his palm was pressed against your core through your shorts, to which he created a dizzying, sweet friction by rubbing the flat expanse of his palm.

The kisses lost their tenacious nature, and suddenly you had crawled into the boy’s lap, racing, insignificant thoughts ticking by in your head as Junhui helped you discard your t-shirt, his face then burying against your chest. You could recall the velvet-like texture of his brown locks sliding through your fingers, how his soft tongue lapped at the honey between your thighs whilst you whimpered and cried out his name, your spine arching from the bed. He was your best friend. You had no idea your best friend could make you feel so euphoric.

Continuing to lay beneath his covers, the intense memories flooded you in one big rush, forcing you to shove your face deep into the pillow in some nonsensical hope that it would stop the heat from dancing upon your skin. However, the pillow was useless. You could smell nothing but a mild concoction of Junhui’s fresh cologne and his shampoo. Gritting your teeth, you quickly threw the sheets from your body, rushing into the connected bathroom in order to splash heaps of cool water across your cheeks.

Whilst the beads dripped down to your jaw, you examined your naked body in the mirror.

Why did you have to have sex with Junhui? Your best friend? Why did the thought of him pressing you against the counter and sneaking his hand back between your legs make your chest flutter? As you shut off the faucet and patted your face dry, you didn’t have an answer.

Maybe you just liked him, and you always sort of wanted it to happen. 

Maybe he wanted it too.

You pulled over your t-shirt and tied back the string on your shorts. A low, garbling noise rumbled in your stomach, which was understandable considering it was nine in the morning and you hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. However, a daunting feeling outweighed your hunger. Walking into the living room had your heart skipping beats, knowing who would be there after he’d slipped from between the covers, trying not to interrupt your sleep.

Junhui was sitting at the kitchen table, the television humming quietly in the background with some rare-sighted television show. You recognized the circular shape of his glasses resting on his nose, whilst the thick fibres of his dark, chestnut hair were notably rumpled in different directions. He was in his sweatpants, wearing a burgundy flannel he left unbuttoned, which revealed his firm chest as well as all the little scratches and hickies you’d painted his skin with. Walking in on a sight that was so unprecedented yet beautiful admittedly stunned you.

Swallowing nearly burned your throat, but you still called out his name.

“J-Jun?”

The boy jumped slightly, though once he spotted you, he got up quickly from the chair and dragged his fingers through his hair.

“Jeez, you scared me.” He breathed out anxiously. “I-I was just— I was waiting for you to get up.”

“I know.” You replied, finding it particularly difficult not to ogle the pretty marks leading down to his abdomen. “I have all my stuff, so if you want me to leave, then…”

The air became almost palpable, like a heavy weight pushing in from all angles. You couldn’t meet Junhui’s eyes and looked at the television instead, playing with your fingers. A generous film of sweat was already beginning to slick your palms and your pulse resembled claps of thunder. Junhui wavered carefully on what to say to you, his best friend.

What if he told you to leave?

“Do you want to eat breakfast first?”

You went rigid. Then, you tightly curled your toes and looked into the boy’s eyes, as kind and deeply coppered as they always were.

“Really?” Sounded your tiny squeak.

Junhui nodded. “There’s still some of Wonwoo’s pancake mix left in the cupboard.”

You smiled, feeling more at ease. “Does he care if we use the rest of it?”

“No.” Junhui said, before immediately back-pedalling. “Well, maybe. But I don’t think so.”

There wasn’t much conversation as you two made breakfast. 

Junhui cracked the eggs into the powder whilst you poured out the correct cup of milk. At one point, as Junhui mixed the batter with a whisk, a small drop managed to splash onto his glasses. He took them off and used the corner belonging to his flannel, rubbing the spot away, and for some stupid reason, you found him so endearing that you had to remind yourself not to stare. Before last night, you two prepared breakfast all the time together, mostly for Junhui’s ravenous roommates who’d eat anything in sight.

But everything felt irreversibly different now.

You kept glancing at him from the corner of your eye as he leaned against the wall and flipped the pancakes, occasionally running a hand through his hair, pushing the earthen curls away his forehead. At one point, Junhui clearly caught you in a daze, though he didn’t say anything and continued moving the golden, fluffy pancakes onto a plate. No matter what the boy did, your mind responded by spinning out these oddly romantic idealities, and it was then you realized these fictions weren’t unbeknownst.

They were always roaming around, deep in the back of your head, because when they came to you there was a distant sense of familiarity. You had no idea how long you felt this way.

“Jun.” You said his name after finishing breakfast, pushing aside the syrupy plate with your elbow.

He was checking something on his phone, though he set it down and stared at you.

Without overthinking, you asked, “Do you regret what we did?”

“What?” Junhui echoed, scrunching his nose.

You sighed, squeezing your hands together in your lap.

“Because… I just— I don’t regret it. I enjoyed it. Seriously.” Looking into his unreadable gaze, you decided not to hold anything back. “I like you a lot, and I’d be with you if you wanted me. I know everything feels a bit shaky right now, and I know I’m throwing this all on you at once, but I just want to be transparent. I really, really like you.”

Junhui blinked at you, closing his mouth that was agape and pushing up the glasses that had fallen slightly. He smoothed his hand up his chest, scratching his lavender collarbone, and you weren’t sure how to translate his lack of word. Suddenly, the boy pushed his chair back.

“Come here.” His deep voice sounded, to which your legs felt like utter gelatine as you approached his side of the table.

“Junhui, I—,”

You wanted to tell him something about how you’re sorry for making such a situation more awkward than it even needed to be; however, those sentiments were purged from your mind as Junhui pulled you into his comfortable lap, his hands cupping your face whilst he pressed his pink, still somewhat-bruised lips to yours. Shock filled you first. In fact, you were motionless for a few seconds, until reality slapped you stinging, prompting you to eagerly welcome the boy’s sweet kiss. When his grip returned to your waist, squeezing softly, appreciatively, you completely melted against his body and released a blissful, hazy sigh.

“Yes.” Junhui then nipped your bottom lip, looking at you with a doe twinkle through his glasses.

“Yes?” You echoed, and attempted to catch your breath. “Yes what?”

“As in yes, I want you.”

He pressed his thumbs into your hips, allowing you to feel a dull pain from where he’d bruised the skin the night before. It reminded you of everything that transpired, except, now that you had stopped repressing your true heart, you embraced the memories, refusing to recoil and lie to yourself. In the moment, you were unsure of what your relationship entailed, or how people would react, though you weren’t looking to concern with what others may think, because your current elation was far too powerful. 

You kissed Junhui again, tasting the sweet syrup on his tongue.

It was still a little weird. But you loved it.

✧✎ a/n: it pains me so much that i cannot write for jun as often as i’d like. he really deserves this. jun stans i will try my best to give him the content he deserves!! hope you enjoyed, let me know what u think!

[catboymingi]

birthday boy

navi/masterlist

pairing: hongjoong x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.7k

warnings: just a little language + threats of kicks to the kneecaps

a/n: inspired by me finishing an assignment i had a week for in like two hours because i wanted to write for this gem’s birthday

sadly, responsibilities don’t stop just because it’s your boyfriend’s birthday. but maybe your boyfriend’s birthday can aid as a motivation to get your work done and over with so you can finally smother him in love

it was your boyfriend’s birthday, but sadly, it was also exam season, and even more sadly did your boyfriend care about your grades more than you did. so you were banned from going out with him, even though you wanted nothing more than that, because he knew you were far from finished with an essay that for some reason unbeknownst to everyone in the course made up more than half of your grade. he told you that you’d have a lot more chances to celebrate with him, but you most definitely did not have a lot more chances to do this essay, and while you hated to admit it he had a point. hongjoong had offered to stay home with you, spending a chill birthday with his head in your lap while you were happily - or not so happily - typing away on your laptop, but this time it had been you who banned him from doing that. it was his birthday and he was going to have fun, and if you had to make his group of rowdies drag him out of your shared apartment by the ears then you would.

“but i want to spend my birthday with you!”, he’d whined out, but you remained hard. no way would you let him stay home with you on his birthday.

“too bad, the boys are already on their way and they have orders to not let you leave until you’ve had the time of your life.”

he was convinced it was impossible to have the time of his life without you there, but you were unrelenting, and when mingi did almost drag him by the hair he finally gave in, sending you a last pouty glance before he left with his friends.

while your love was (hopefully - if not you’d beat all seven boys’ asses) having a good time you found yourself staring at the damned screen that kept you from spending his birthday with him, cursing the hell machine and especially cursing the course and the teacher, but then your attitude shifted towards one of determined concentration, because if you managed to get the basics done today you’d maybe get to spend at least a little time with the birthday boy. your fingers tapped away high-speed, most likely faster than you’d ever typed before. now you had something that was actually worth finishing the essay for, and it surprised you how great of a motivation a badly sung karaoke duet with your darling and mocktails that very much tasted like mocktails rather than a decent drink but that you’d still get at least three of could be.

when you managed to get the entire thirteen pages first draft done in the span of roughly twelve hours you realised just how much of a motivation your boyfriend was, because when you’d started for the day your essay pretty much looked like that one spongebob episode where all that was written on the paper was ‘the’ in a fancy font. you’d already read a lot of literature (spent way more time on it than you’d like to admit), so it was just to put your thoughts into words, and the complete lack of distraction along with being so absolutely in love with your boy and wanting to spend his birthday with him had suddenly turned you into some kind of super genius writing machine. not that you’d complain, though, because it was now nine thirty in the evening and you knew that if you hurried to get ready you’d be able to join the boys for at least a little fun. so you messaged seonghwa, threatening him with a kick to the kneecaps if he told hongjoong that you were coming, and asked him where they were so you could come join them. he told you and promised to keep the boys there until you arrived, “and if i have to chain them to the chairs”, which you knew he actually would if push came to shove because he knew how much his friend had wanted you there for his birthday and he wasn’t going to ruin that opportunity just because they’d already left the lousy karaoke bar.

//

seonghwa had kept his promise, much to his kneecaps’ pleasure, and it was easy to spot the group of loud boys as soon as you entered the karaoke bar. currently mingi and jongho were dueting, a combination you’d only ever see on nights like these where all shame was discarded and mingi no longer worried about being a bad singer. not that he was, but compared to his friends he barely sang, so he seemed a little shy about doing it when it was serious environments where people would judge. now, however, he was happily singing along to some rock song you probably knew but couldn’t name, with the rest of the boys taking the role of unofficial groupies. they hadn’t spotted you yet, but when you let out a loud cheer at some high note that jongho hit flawlessly and that mingi decided to turn into a low note the youngest noticed that someone new had entered, a smile spreading when he saw it was you. mingi was the next to realise, most likely because of his height and the advantage of being on the stage, reacting less calmly than his friend and letting out a cheer himself. that got the other boys’ attention, and you couldn’t wait to kiss your boyfriend when you saw the surprised smile on his face. you were glad you hadn’t worn heels, because the floor was somewhat slippery and you walked faster than would have been responsible if your shoes hadn’t been flat.

“happy birthday, my favourite”, kiss, “best”, kiss, “most amazing”, kiss, “perfect”, kiss, “absolutely adorable”, kiss, “boyfriend.”

you could tell your actions embarrassed him just a little, increasing when yunho groaned out that he felt so incredibly single right now. he quickly recovered, though, asking the question that you knew would come sooner or later, considering the reason why you hadn’t been able to spend the entire day with him.

“but your essay?” you could see that your love hoped you hadn’t neglected studying just to spend time with him, but even though you loved him to no end you’d never do that, if only for the fact that he’d never let you.

“i got the first draft done today, so i’ll beta read and touch up on it the next few days.”

his eyes were wide in surprise again, because you’d been working on the first draft for so long now that he didn’t even remember when you first started (though you’d admittedly mainly read the literature and procrastinated), and now you’d finished it in a single day.

“you know how i can be when i want to spend time with you. especially on your birthday”, you laughed at his expression, and he grinned at you because he certainly did know. the first birthday you’d spent with him you had coerced him to wear a suit through what could only be described as loving blackmail, and you’d put on your prom dress, because even though you were only going to a lousy karaoke bar with his friends - much like today - you’d told him that the day had to be special and you had to look special and he just hadn’t been able to say no to you, especially not when you’d threatened him with kiss withdrawal. then, the second birthday he’d spent with you, you’d baked him a several storey cake, refusing to let him help you even though you were hopeless at baking, instead coercing his friends into helping you with much less loving blackmail and threats of kicks to the kneecaps - your favourite threat, he’d noticed. seonghwa had been the main one to help because he was the only one patient enough to stay in the kitchen with you through all four storeys - a number you’d chosen because hongjoong liked the number four and was also turning 24 so naturally, the cake had to have four storeys. now he was turning 25 and you’d finished a task you’d been working on for about two weeks now in a single day because you wanted to see him. really, he adored you and how much you obviously loved him.

“i know”, he confirmed before leaning in to kiss you, doing so for longer than his friends appreciated, “and i love you for that.”

“i love you more.” dare to disagree, your eyes told him, and he knew that today he would definitely be the loser of “i love you most, no take backs”, so he didn’t even try.

“love me enough for a duet?”, he asked instead, though he already knew the answer would be yes. of course the answer would be yes.

his - both of your - friends cheered for you when you sang the cheesiest love song one could think of, because hongjoong had wanted to make you flustered with the choice of song, only to get flustered himself when you sang it at him in total sincerity. mingi was his choice of shelter once the song was over, and both you and the boys laughed at that, though without any malice. it was a perfect night, it really was, from the moment you’d gotten to the bar to the moment you said goodbye to the others and went home with him, hands intertwined the entire way.

it was still perfect when you changed into your pyjamas - or what you decided to call such, sweatpants for him and one of his shirts for you - and laid down together, his head on your chest because he was the birthday boy and the birthday boy was the one to get held, pressing gentle kisses to the top of his head and being repaid with somewhat awkwardly placed kisses to your chest over his shirt. and it couldn’t get more perfect when you told him you loved him and he told you he loved you, too, and that he was so happy he’d gotten to spend at least part of his birthday with you, because without you it didn’t feel like a real one. and it deserved an oscar for the cheesiest scene when you fell asleep completely intertwined, heartbeats in sync and the moon casting a soft light onto both of your sleeping forms.