#i mean years and YEARS of pining with someone youre hella close too

[vicsy]

something something something about how max’s hair is completely brown now…when daniel closes his eyes all he sees is blonde

ohhh. ohh anon. you should not have gone there.... but I am glad you did. this is also something very up @mysticalbreadcollective 's alley since blonde Max is on her daily agenda BUT

anon. idk what floats your boat but let me take you somewhere rancid under the cut (let the record show that I am a maxiel truther but my god do I enjoy making them suffer with other people)

it's current season and maxiel aren't together due to Reasons with capital R of course. Daniel's "i can't fuck my teammate i am not into guys or am I but maybe that's just Max oh no you can't be with Max" and Max's general understanding of his own worth and needs. they can't escape the tension, the lingering touches, the double entendre running through their relationship like a river in flood. one step forward, two steps back etc etc

so things aren't going exactly as planned for Daniel and, naturally, he's fighting the pull towards Max and the best next thing his brain chooses to do is find someone to hook up with, get it out of his system. since his dick is very much attuned to Max after years of imagining that's its gonna find itself parked in Max's ass (which never happened), Daniel's looking for someone particular to scratch the itch and, apparently, to spite the fate, his choice falls to YOU GUESSED IT – Liam.

very convenient, since they're both gunning for the same thing. exploring some healthy alternatives to their impromptu rivalry or whatever the media says. Daniel's pretty charming and Liam's easy. done and done.

and it's bad. capital "b" Bad. the sex comes pretty fast and Daniel's checking all of his boxes - rookie, blonde, tiny waist, looks at him with wide eyes etc etc and Liam is surprisingly down to fuck cause maybe that is also convenient for him, too. but he's mean about it. He's heard legends about Big Dick Ric and the dick is very big but the prowess? lacking. he says that to Daniel's face after, like, the third time it happens. which should be incredibly insulting but–

Daniel's pining and trying to trick himself which works exactly for three seconds but Liam isn't what he wants. wrong kind of blonde hair that Daniel's gripping tight while he fucks Liam from the back, never face to face, because that would prompt Daniel to THINK and RUMINATE and he doesn't want that. he wants Max the way he sees him when he closes his eyes but it's gone when he opens them and finishes another underwhelming sexcapade. it's never the right color, it's never the right person' it's always a bad time.

"do you think I'm not getting what you're doing here?" Liam says to him one day, grinning meanly, and Daniel truly doesn't know the answer to that question. he's hella confused himself. Liam seems to get off on the situation more than when he's riding Daniel's dick, so he calls Daniel Danny in the garage and he suddenly glues himself to Daniel's side, which is. weird. manipulative? Daniel's plan to get over himself backfires when he sees Liam talking to Max one day and Max's easy smile slowly dissipates as Liam's yapping but Daniel can't hear a word.

he doesn't really need to. he knows Liam cashed in on Daniel's sorry excuse of a reason to hook up. all Daniel can do is add to the history of horrendous decisions he's made in his life and live with the knowledge that he's probably never going to wake up next to Max's mostly-not-blonde hair getting in his face where they're tangled in bed, that Daniel's dabbled in something he should not have touched with a ten foot pole, that he'd tarnished all of his chanced, basically set them on fire when max had been there and never turning him down all the way.

Daniel got some, Liam got some. after all, it's Max who, unfairly, walks out it hurt the most, because of Daniel's choice, because of him thinking he was chasing something else while in reality he was running. and Daniel never fucking stopped.

[mosesins]

me: oh this fic looks nice

fic: #unrequited love

me: just kidding

[tartagilicious]

THEIR ROMANCE TROPES ; 🌷

[out of context main story (ch7?) spoilers during artem's, only mentioned]

LUKE: childhood friends to lovers + hella romantic tension

-> when luke disappeared from your life, you half expected to never see him again. it was so sudden, so unprecedented, that you could barely rationalise it.

-> you were hurt and angry in the moment, but the reason why didn’t really hit you until much much later — you were in love with him.

-> but for years, you're unable to get in contact with him. at times, you think that's that, and maybe cutting off contact was for the better.

-> and then he appears again. by complete chance, you happen to reunite as partners on a case, and you couldn’t be more delighted. luke seemed extremely happy to see you, too. it was like he had never left.

-> though, it’s hard to be friends with someone you’re so in love with — even the smallest things mean something different, touches carry history and certain words are seen through another lense.

-> until!! one cliché night, as all the stories go, something goes right. maybe you’re stuck out in the rain together, maybe he finds you crying in your office, or maybe he even bites the bullet and goes for it himself!

-> “i’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

-> your relationship is one that is long awaited by not only yourselves, but also most around you. it was the kind of friendship that was sickening sweet to witness — you didn’t exactly trip over yourselves, but your mutual want for something more might have been a bit stifling at times

-> celestine was this 🤏 close to doing all the work herself

VYN: enemies to lovers + royalty au

-> the prince makes you furious with his sharp tongue and keen wit, coming neck to neck with you in everything he can. yet, you would be lying if you didn’t see some kind of kindness resting beneath his constant gaze.

-> still, it’s a lowly detail when you’re combative in nearly everything else.

-> as the royal court’s attorney, you don’t see him often. for someone so tenacious, you’re surprised yet aren’t more suits against him. then again, he is a prince. but, when you don’t have the title looking over your head, it’s as if you’re magnets that always find their way back to each other.

-> unbeknownst to you, though, is that these magnetic circumstances are rarely unplanned. vyn is well aware of the stigma of royalty being together with someone with someone of common blood, and is hesitant to break it. he sees your skirmishes as a way to meet you, to see your fiery compassion up close without raising suspicions, even if it's not the way he wants.

-> you had always seen him as an enemy until one night, until you are both locked out in the rain together. at first, you snip at each other's resolve as usual, until vyn is quiet. he notices you shivering and offers you the coat you'd just called ridiculously ugly minutes before.

-> yet, you take it. and from there appears the first crack in your resolve. he notices it and cherishes it well

-> not to mention, he takes advantage of it. now, hidden in his insults are specific compliments only you recognise. he isn't so brutal all the time anymore, as if the nature of his teasing has changed. it boggles you, even though you understand his sudden switch

-> with a few nice gestures and suddenly you like him?? what kind of logic is that??

-> sound logic, apparently. because one night, when you can't take it anymore, you ask him why he's doing what he is, and everything is lost from that point on. i love you. his reasoning sounds convincing enough to you.

MARIUS: meet cute + mutual pining

-> when a handsome stranger saves your life at a crosswalk, you never expect to see him a few weeks later as the person sitting behind the desk belonging to your new investigation partner.

-> you can't help but gasp, and he has a similar reaction. it sends you both into a small fit of laughter. artem looks between the two of you, as he was the one to introduce you, but he can't help but suddenly think he's become more of a third wheel

-> your impression of him is already extremely good, and it's not hard to like his playful and considerate personality. he barely even has to do anything to win you over. it's just, there's one complication -- does he like you in the same way?

-> you're worried he's only being nice to you because he sees you as a friend, as someone who'd come into his life on a good note. and the feeling is crushing. it takes up your days and nights. marius' every little action has to mean something either good or bad

-> and you know, they say that love blinds. i think it's true in this case especially, because it's so obvious to everyone around you that marius isn't simply just being nice - he's head over heels for you.

-> it's a complicated kind of relationship, full of maybes and useless jealousy over things that don't matter. but nonetheless, you both are kind. you respect the idea that the other may not want the same thing, even if it means the two of you are suffering in silence.

-> it goes on like this until marius asks you to swing by his studio, looking for another hand to transfer art supplies somewhere. he opens the door with paint splattered on his face, a guilty smile tugging at his lips, and in that moment, you've never wanted to kiss him more.

-> you share a look as he lets you into the apartment, and just as he shuts the door. marius is absolutely delighted, and when his paint covered hands cup you cheeks, you squeal into his lips. the split second decision single handedly dispels months of worry.

ARTEM: near death experiences, im so sad

-> when you had first come into the office, there was nothing special about you. you were working towards becoming a full-fledged lawyer after graduating, much like a lot of other people who had taken up jobs at themis.

-> yet overtime, as you began to find your place in the hectic environment, there was something about you that seemed to stand out. your unending consideration, strong moral code, and compassion for those in need -- artem noticed things that he grew to love

-> as partners, there was never a moment he regretted giving you the offer. you were smart, capable. you did every job with him not as a mirror, but as a puzzle piece, filling in the blanks he hadn't noticed. even if you still learned, still made mistakes, artem didn't realise how much he truly had begun to treasure you until he had to choose between you and himself.

-> it was a cruel but easy choice. when he pulled the lever that cut off oxygen to his own chamber, he knew that if he died, he would regret leaving you alone. but, if he had done the opposite, your death would have haunted him. you were everything he'd ever wanted, and if anything, it was you that needed to survive. ironically, he loved you more than the oxygen he breathes (oop)

-> but when artem opened his eyes again, he was not dead. he was in the arms of the person he loved, and seeing you alive was enough to put him at ease.

-> he croaked out his feelings without warning to even himself, voice faded with disuse. and all you could do was smile even as tears rained from your eyes.

-> i know, you nod. i love you too.

[fruitcoops]

i would love to read coops doing one of those lie detector youtube videos!!

This was such a fun fic to research! I highly recommend watching the Try Guys Lie Detector videos if you'd like some context. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Why are there so many of these?” Remus muttered, shaking his hand around. A series of multicolored wires smacked the table and Marlene rolled her eyes as she passed. “Sorry.”

“Welcome back to Lion Pride!” Sirius said as he turned to the camera with a smile. “I’m Sirius Black, and I’m here today with my husband, Remus Lupin, to get some answers.”

“We are also joined by Mark, who is an expert at reading polygraphs,” Remus added.

A middle-aged man in a blue shirt raised his hand in a slight wave. “Thanks for having me. Since you’re already hooked up, you’ll be going first. This machine measures your sweat, your heart rate, and a couple other common tells for liars. Do you lie often?”

Remus hesitated; Sirius hid a smile in his hand. “No, since I suck at lying, but I’ll do it if it makes somebody feel better. I think I’m pretty good at that.”

They stared at the polygraph for a moment before Mark nodded. “Checks out. Take it away, Sirius.”

Sirius cleared his throat and took a notecard from his stack. “Was going to college worth it?”

“Yes,” Remus answered almost immediately. “I don’t know what I would have done without getting my degree and staying close to hockey. Wouldn’t have met you, for one.”

“True,” Mark said without looking up.

“Do you like my playoff beard?”

“I do, yeah.” Mark raised his eyebrows and Remus pressed his lips together. “Okay, sometimes it’s a little much, but you’re pretty good about keeping things under control.”

“Alright,” Sirius said with playful skepticism. “Good to know. Who’s your favorite Lion?”

“Besides you? Talker.”

“Yeah, we don’t need a polygraph to know that,” Sirius laughed when Mark nodded. “Did you like my last haircut?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus said under his breath, looking away.

“I knew it.”

“It wasn’t bad—”

“He’s lying,” Mark interrupted.

Remus turned to him with betrayal written all over his expression. “Dude!”

“You are.”

“Answer the question, Loops,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you feel about my last haircut?”

He bit his lower lip. “It was a little too short and really threw me off for a couple days. But you didn’t like it, either.”

“I didn’t,” Sirius agreed, grinning. “But I vividly remember several ‘no, honey, you look great’ conversations.”

“Next question,” Remus sighed.

“Ha! This one is self-explanatory. Have you ever lied to me?”

“Yes, but only when I knew it would make you feel better.”

“True,” Mark confirmed.

“Do you think you’re a better dog owner than me?”

Remus thought for a moment. “No.”

“True.”

“Do you think I’m a better dog owner than you?” Sirius asked.

“No. I think we balance each other well, and we wouldn’t be as good apart.”

“True again.”

“Interesting.” Sirius surveyed the cards. “Do you trust me?”

“A hundred percent,” Remus answered without hesitation. Mark nodded.

“Do you think I would be a good dad?”

He rested his chin on his hand, then smiled a little. “I do, yeah. I think you know what to do and what notto do, and you’re very protective without being controlling. So, yeah. You’d be a good dad.”

Mark glanced over. “He’s telling the truth.”

Sirius leaned across the table and kissed Remus on the cheek. “Merci. Oh, this’ll be fun. Is any of our relationship just for show, especially on Lion Pride?”

Remus narrowed his eyes with a hum. “Yes and no.”

“Pick one,” Mark said.

“In a general sense? Yeah, sure. We’re not perfect all the time, but we pretend to be. The specifics stay honest, though. None of our relationship is based on building clout. We keep the core genuine.”

The polygraph beeped for a moment. “He’s telling the truth.”

“This one is super morbid. Ready?” Sirius rested his elbows on the table. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds Jules. Which one do you drop?”

“I love you, but I would absolutely drop you,” Remus said after only a brief period of thought.

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius huffed. “I would be so upset if it was the other way around.”

“Right? I love you more than anything, but it’s Jules.”

Remus turned to Mark, who shrugged. “True.”

“Do you think we live together well?” Sirius asked.

“After a full year of it?” Remus laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

“True.”

Sirius checked the list and his eyebrows rose. “You’re going to hate this one.”

“Am I?”

“What do you really think about my parents?”

Remus’ smile turned thin and Sirius spread his hands in a see? motion. He was quiet for a few seconds, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to use those words on this channel. Um, I don’t like them.”

Mark snorted. “Very true.”

“Last one,” Sirius warned, though his eyes crinkled happily at the edges. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“That’s cute,” Remus said. “And…yeah. I think I do.”

“Wrong,” Sirius said before Mark could answer. “You have absolutely no idea.”

“Sap,” Remus scoffed. His cheeks were pink, and he pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’ temple while they swapped chairs.

“He was telling the truth,” Mark informed them as he helped Remus untangle his arm and hand, then transferred the devices to Sirius. “Though I am interested to see the flipside. Do you lie often?”

“Not anymore. I’m pretty good at it, though.”

“First one: have you ever had a crush on one of your teammates?”

“Oh, for sure,” Sirius said with a light laugh. “I never did anything about it, but I was the king of pining for a solid decade.”

“True,” Mark affirmed.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “Who is the handsomest Lion?”

Sirius bit his lip, making a thoughtful noise. “That’s a tough one. I’m assuming a player other than you?”

“Yes.”

“In that case…I think Dumo is the classic definition of ‘handsome’ even though he is so not my type, but Kasey might be the most attractive.”

“Not Pots?” Remus teased. Sirius pulled a face and flicked him on the arm.

“He’s being honest,” Mark said.

“Do you think you’re the best player on the team?”

“…no.”

“He’s lying.”

“Shit.” Sirius sighed heavily as Remus looked at him over the edge of his notecard. “Look, it’s—it’s not an ego thing.”

“It’s the captain thing, isn’t it?” Remus sounded quite amused.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, defeated. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Mark nodded. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Oh, another parent one,” Remus remarked. “Did my parents scare you?”

“Not really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “You’re right in the middle.”

“Huh.” He thought for a few seconds. “I think seeing you all together was a lot like meeting Dumo’s family the first time. You’re just so…normal. And you genuinely like each other. So I wasn’t scared, but it was definitely an adjustment.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they adore you. I’m glad we didn’t chase you off, though. Does it really bother you that I leave my socks around the house?”

Sirius pressed his lips together as several people off-screen began to laugh. “I can’t answer that.”

“See, that’s all the answer I need.”

“Fine. Yes, but only because I don’t know where you get them from. You don’t actually own that many socks, and I still find them every-fucking-where.”

“True,” Mark said.

“I’ll try to keep a better eye on things,” Remus assured him, smiling. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds James. Which one do you drop?”

“Goddammit,” Sirius muttered, tilting his head back. He thought for a long, long moment. “I can’t answer that.”

The polygraph buzzed. “False.”

Sirius shook his head. “Neither of you. I wouldn’t drop either.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “True.”

“On a much lighter note,” Remus said with a cough. “Which of us is lazier?”

“Me.”

“True.”

“Really?” Remus gave him a baffled look. “You work so hard all the time.”

Sirius shrugged. “Agree to disagree?”

“Fine, but I hope you know taking time for yourself doesn’t mean you’re lazy.” He shuffled through the cards. “Oh, this’ll be very interesting. Do you think I talk too much?”

“No.”

“True.”

Remus sat back in his chair, a pleased blush coloring his cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting that. Good answer, I love you. Do you think we’ll get divorced someday?”

“Oh, god, no.” Sirius’ previous self-satisfaction turned to revulsion. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“True,” Mark said again. “For someone who said he was good at lying, you’re very honest.”

“No point in lying with that thing around, is there?”

Remus shrugged. “Saves time, for sure. Have you kissed any of our friends?”

“Yeah,” he snorted.

To his credit, Mark didn’t even let a smile slip through. “True.”

“Do you enjoy getting stopped in public by fans?”

“Fans, yes. Ex-fans who take it upon themselves to explain why I shouldn’t be gay, no.” He paused, then shook his head with a smile. “I’m not good at talking to people, but I do like it when people say hello. It’s cool.”

“True.”

Remus raised his notecards. “Two left, and the first one is hella morbid.”

“Hella,” Sirius murmured, earning himself a teasing glare.

“Watch it. If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?”

The playfulness dropped away. “What?”

“If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?” Remus repeated.

Sirius looked horrified by the very thought. “I wouldn’t.”

“True,” Mark said, seemingly uncaring about the alarm on Sirius’ face.

“Even if it happened tomorrow?”

“First of all, thanks for my new nightmare. Second, no. I wouldn’t get married again.” He kissed Remus’ forehead gently. “Let’s not test that, though. Like ever.”

“Deal. Ready for the last one?”

“As long as nobody else is in danger of death.”

“I dunno, it’s a tough one.” Remus gave him a solemn look across the table. “I need you to be really honest with me on this one. Do you think you have better hair?”

Sirius blinked at him, then burst out laughing. Even Mark’s lips twitched into a suppressed smile. “Oh my god.”

“What’s so funny?” Remus asked, completely poker-faced. “This is important, honey. I’m really counting on you to be genuine with me here—”

“You can’t even—” Sirius broke off again and gestured to Remus’ face, which turned steadily pinker as he bit down a grin. “You can’t even keep a straight face.”

“My face is the only straight thing about me. You know this. Answer the question.”

“He’s trying so hard,” Sirius managed as he looked to the camera. “So hard, mon dieu.”

“Shit,” Remus muttered as he finally gave in and hid his laughter in the crook of his elbow. “We were doing so well until now! It’s the last question, just answer it!”

Sirius wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and nodded. “I do think I have better hair, but I love yours, too.”

Mark chuckled. “True.”

“It would help if you finally got a haircut that was different from the one you’ve had since you were thirteen.”

Remus closed his eyes, sighing. “Y’know, exposing my haircut choices for the entire internet to mock really wasn’t how I planned this day going.”

“Isn’t that the point of this whole video?”

“Mark, I’m not sure if we owe you an apology or not, but thank you for putting up with us.” Remus turned back to the camera with an easy smile. “Thanks for joining us today, everyone. Make sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more videos like this!”

[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.

[ramp-it-up]

Damage, Pt. 2

Pairing: Rafael Casal x OFC Holly Woods

Word Count: 3.8 K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF  Read at your own risk. Pining, angst, FWB, graphic sex, protected sex, talk of getting tested for STD’s, Krispy Kreme, and all the feels.

A/N: It’s my birthday and I missed Rafa and Holly, so I wrote my own deliverance. At this point, these two are so oblivious, it isn’t funny. This happens just after Last Christmas.

This December adventure began early that morning, as Daveed and Rafa taught your writing classes and then hosted a Holiday showcase for your kids. 

They donated their time and talents as a favor for you. It was so damn cute and thoughtful that you’d thanked Rafael and then kissed him under the mistletoe. Almost as if you were in a relationship.

Almost.

You weren’t in a relationship, however. You’d only shared two nights together, as friends who fucked, and you had an understanding that it wouldn’t be any more than that. Rafael and you had an agreement to service each other for the time being, no commitment, no feels. 

And who were you to him? He was a creative, a star who could jet off around the world in a moment’s notice for a glamorous affair.  You were just a school teacher who worked every day in LA. Rafael would never want you for his girl. So this situationship served a utilitarian purpose, not a romantic one. 

After the kiss, Rafael’s mind was whirring. He slowly backed away and checked the time, noticing that it was just after 9 pm. The night was young. He didn’t want the night with you to end. 

Rafael felt the urge to be with you again, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You were so dope and the fact that you didn’t know it made you even more so.  You were refreshing with your intelligence, adding to the facts that you did not give a fuck who he was, did not play to his ego, and did not want him to wife you.  

That last part was refreshing, but also troubling as he evaluated his feelings for you. But there were no feelings to be involved; you’d made that clear.  If he fell for you, you’d probably end it. You clearly didn’t want to be bothered with his lifestyle, and frankly, he didn’t deserve you. 

But he could possibly have tonight. It would be the last chance to be with you before you went to Houston to visit your family for Christmas, and the thoughts of you he’d had since Tuesday couldn’t wait another week.

You gathered yourself together and got your emotions in check.  You told yourself that you were just fond of him as a friend, but that’s where the sentiment ended.  You only had to repeat that to yourself about three times before your heart started to slow down.

Rafael smiled at you, crossing his legs and leaning on your desk while watching you work, finally getting your things together so that you could leave.  It had been a long day.

You were wearing your work clothes, white button down shirt, black pencil skirt and heels. Your Christmas cardigan had been discarded when you started cleaning up. That skirt was fit. ting.  Damn, that ass.  You were all covered up, but the clothes got him a little hard. 

You watched him watching you and gave him a smile that made his blue-greens light up.

“Did you have fun with my badass kids today?” 

Rafa laughed at your joke. He saw how much you loved your students. 

“They’re not bad. Some kids just need different ways to learn and show that they’ve learned. But you know that already.”

He shook his head at you. He could read you like a book.

“You try to pretend that you’re mean Ms. Woods but I know better. They wouldn’t love you so much if you were mean to them. Like young Timothy. He sure does love you a lot. You’re… what is it he called you?  His Cutie Pie?” Rafa looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. Timmy was his nemesis.

There was something in his voice that made you stop and look.  Could Rafa be jealous of a kindergartner?  Nah. But he was certainly worked up.

You smiled mischievously, walking towards him with some workbooks in your hand.

“I am ‘Mean Ms. Woods.’” 

You came close to him and leaned beside him to put the workbooks on your desk. Standing in front of him, your legs on either side of his, Rafael got caught up. He kept his hands clasped in front of him and eyes on you as you got close. But he couldn’t help but lean in, try to look down your shirt and kiss you on your neck.  

You stepped back before his lips made contact, teasing him.  The way he huffed and clenched his jaw got you going. That smoldering look and flashing green eyes always did.

You  definitely wanted to give him some, if he wanted, after what he had pulled off today for your kids.  You were happy that he seemed to want you too. But you were chilling. You wondered about other women in his rotation. 

You laughed a little and smiled, shaking your head at yourself.

“What?” 

Rafa smiled, seeing that you were flustered about something and hoping that something was him. He knew the cat and mouse game was just beginning.

It had been just three days but he was feening for you. Especially after seeing you with your kids this morning. You were something special. Someone he couldn’t let… He stopped his train of thought as you started talking.

“Timothy is a handful.  Mischievous, hella smart, quick witted. And a little charmer. He’s always trying to get a kiss. He has a ton of potential. Reminds me of someone else…” 

Rafael’s quick wit turned you the fuck on. Not to mention his face. And... Whew. Your thoughts were getting out of control. 

The way you were smiling at him made Rafa‘s heart leap. He tried to push the emotions down and just feel the physical.  But he did care about you. A lot. 

“Ok, enough about Timenstien.  Let’s talk about adult things…”  He just wanted to pick you up and carry you outta here the way you cocked your head at him.

“...Like the arrangement for benefits without borders. The tests, the shot… “ You just continued to stare at him.  When you licked your lips, Rafa put his hands in front of him to cover up his hard on.

You laughed again. “‘Benefits Without Borders,’ you should copyright that.”  

“Yeah, or call it, ‘FWB Raw’” Rafael had jokes.

You cracked up.  “I can’t with you, Rafa.”

Rafael’s face fell. “I mean your jokes, I can’t with your jokes. Sheesh.” 

You turned around to gather more books. Rafa fixed his face, but his eyes couldn’t leave your ass.

“Anyway, I already started the process. I went and was able to get an appointment Wednesday after school, so the shot should take effect next week.”

After the night you’d had Tuesday, you definitely wanted to experience that again. It was fortunate that your doctor had an opening on such short notice.

Rafa’s heart leapt when he heard that, but his face showed no emotion, just a cocked eyebrow when you turned back around.

“Word?”

“Word. Yeah, I’m actually leaving Sunday morning, Christmas Eve, and won’t be back until the 30th...So.”

“So…” Rafa’s eyes, they were changing colors on you. It put you off balance.

“So, if we go get the tests tonight, next week might be available for no barrier method benefits between friends  That is if you still want to….” You bit your lip. Rafa cleared his throat and you saw a smile playing around his mouth.

“Let’s think about the last time when that almost happened.” And he paused so you could go there. You had to lean on one of the children’s tables to think of the shower. You were most definitely wet right now.  

Rafa watched you as you had to open your mouth to breathe.Yes, he was definitely about to get some tonight. He wanted more than just sex, but right now he would take what he could get. Then your face changed to uncertainty.

“By the time I get back, you’ll probably have other plans for New Year’s weekend…”

Rafa was confused. “Nah, I’m going next door for Utkarsh and Naomi’s party… aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but you-- we-- might have dates or something.”

Ohhhhh. That’s what was up. Rafa nodded.  Shit.  You might have someone else in the rotation.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. True that.  There’s a couple of people, I mean. A few.”

Rafa was lying through his teeth, no one in his phone could hold a candle to you. Sure, they were ready, willing and able. But they were not you. And you didn’t have to know that.

“See, so…”

Rafa mourned the lost vibe.  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, not caring how it looked anymore. You watched him and longed to have your fingers in his mane, but you were chilling.

“Look. The other night we said that this was a special deal between us. I don’t wanna tie you down.  We’ll just see how things go, I mean, you might hook up in Houston…” He watched you, waiting for you to deny it.

You didn’t deny it simply because you did not know how to say that the only one you wanted to take advantage of the situation was him. You just stared at him. When you didn’t say anything, he went on.

“...old flames, new boos, whatever.  The tests will be good information to have in any circumstance.  I say we go for it.”

"Let's get it!"

An hour later you were at the Krispy Kreme donuts on Crenshaw on the way to your place. You had already dropped your car off and were now chilling with the homie after getting tested for STDs. 

You were staring in the window of the bakery, watching the donuts getting that hot glaze now and licking your lips.  They were so tempting. You were thinking donuts and Rafa was thinking the same about your lips.

"I don't think these will help with my anemia."  Your little laugh was so cute to Rafa.

The only bad news you’d got from the blood tests was that you needed more iron. You were both clean and ready to go.

"Let's get some. That glaze does something to me. I just want to lick some of that creamy stuff from around that hole..." Rafa was staring at you while he spoke, the “Hot Donuts Now” sign casting an eerie red light on half of his face.

"You’re so nasty...." you giggled.

Rafael screwed up his face. 

"What? I'm talking ‘bout some donuts.  I don't know what you're talking about." Rafa felt irrationally happy being here with you. Because you were a great friend. Yeah, that was it.

You got a dozen and left on the way to your house.  You stole a donut while riding. You looked at him while licking your fingers.

You’d decided that you wanted to have him before you left, even if you had to use protection. After you ate the donut, you put your thumb in your mouth, sucked for a second, and removed it with a loud pop, still staring at Rafa.

He almost pulled over to the side of the road.  But he was determined. "Hmmmm." Was all he replied as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

You put your hand on Rafael’s knee and moved it up a few inches to his dick. It was appropriately swollen. You smiled and started stroking it through his pants.  You felt it get harder. 

"I’ve been thinking about you a lot tonight. What you did for the kids was so… It was nice. On the other hand, I can’t wait for you to fuck my throat."

Rafa almost choked on nothing. You always surprised him and made him feel like an insecure, horny teenage boy.  But he wasn't going out like that. You were just a few minutes from your place.

"You know what. I'd love to see those tits right now."

“Right now? While you are driving?”

“I’m grown. Been driving since I was 15. I got this.”

You giggled, but reached up and unbuttoned your shirt. Your breasts were bathed in the moonlight, sitting perky and upright in your sheer black bra. Holy fuck. Your nipples were calling to him.

He'd distracted you from his dick, but his mouth was watering.  All he wanted was to fulfill your dirty fantasies. He reached your apartment and turned off the car.  You leaned back against the window. Rafael turned towards you, appraising you impassively. He had to use his acting skills to seem calm. Damn, you had him twisted.

"Touch them for me."

You licked your lips at his command.

"But I think I still have some glaze on my..."

Rafa just stared at you.

You did as you were told and pulled your bra cups down, freeing your breasts.  You started feeling and pulling on your nipples.  Your eyes were half closed in ecstasy as you started moaning and fogging the windows of Rafa’s car. He was right there with you as he palmed himself through his pants and feasted his eyes on you for a few minutes.

He leaned over and took over your breasts with his mouth. He licked and sucked each of them, making you wet all over again.

“Mmmmm. So sweet.” He looked up at you, his breath fanning your face from below.

You giggled. “It’s the icing from the donut.”

“Nah girl, it’s just how you taste. Like the sweetest ambrosia.”

Damn, his words. Rafael Casal and his damn words. You just stared at him, speechless.

Rafael drew in a ragged breath and reached over to pull your bra up and button your shirt just enough to be decent going into your apartment. It was so tender. But in a no feels kind of way.

“Let’s go on up.”

Rafa peered into your soul. Sure, you wanted him. But was it really just for friendship and occasional dick?

“Eager, are we?”

His voice did something to you. The soft tenor and the earnestness of his requests of you made you melt. How did he do things to you without touching you? You didn’t want to analyze it too much, so you threw the question back on him.

“You’e not?”  Your challenge threw him off. He chuckled to hide his nerves.

“Yes, I’m eager Holly.  I’ve been thinking about the last time since the last time. I want you.”

You closed your eyes and licked your lips, trying to center yourself. “That’s cool.”

You reached for your bag and moved to get out of the car.

“Hold on,” Rafa moved quickly to get out and go around to open the door for you, his chivalry not unnoticed by you. Again, the little things made you want him even more.  This was not going to be good for your heart when he decided to move on.

You led the way to your place and started up the stairs to your apartment before him.

It seemed as if that ass was going left to right in slow motion as Rafael watched it intently. He shook his head to see if he was bugging. When you glanced at him over her shoulder, he knew.

He grinned at you and looked back at it when you turned back around, catching a glimpse of a garter belt on your thighs through the slit in your skirt as you climbed the stairs.

Holy fuck! He had to have you. He rubbed his fingers right before reaching out to verify, then drew them back, because it wouldn’t do to fuck you outside on the stairs of your apartment building.

Rafa gave you some space as you opened the door, but as soon as you were inside, he pushed you up against the wall, hands everywhere.  It seemed as if he’d waited forever and not just three days. You had him addicted. 

You moaned as Rafael started kissing down your neck to your cleavage, dropping your bags on the floor by your feet. He saw a peek of your black bra through your shirt. He remembered the garter set and had to see the entire affect. He backed up, taking you in from head to toe.

"You wanna take those clothes off, or do you want me to rip them off?"

You smiled. "I guess I'll choose the first option."

You slowly unbuttoned your blouse, and peeled the skirt from your hips. It was so seductive that by the time you were done, Rafa had undressed as well, his thick dick in his hands, getting it ready for you.

You stood before him, in a sheer black lace bra and garter set, with no panties. The fact that you had been like that all day under your clothes made him get even harder. And you were looking at what he was holding and licking your lips.

"You hungry?"

"Yes. Please."

"C'mere."

Rafael laid you down on the couch. He turned your head and filled your mouth as he stood at one end of the sofa. He used his free hand to twist and flick your rock hard nipples through your bra. Damn, he loved it when you moaned with his dick in your mouth.

“You like that Holly? This what you wanted?”

You were ravenous, stroking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth naturally. And you were busy, so you just nodded. Rafa continued to torture your nipples with one hand, but moved his other hand down to your clit, swirling insistent and concentrated circles around it.

You were so worked up that it did not take too long for him to manipulate an orgasm from you. “Damn, girl.” 

He was in heaven as you came with your mouth around his dick. Good thing, it muffled the sound. He was concentrating on not shooting off down your throat as he watched you, writhing in your garter set and licking his fingers, and then moving down to eat some of your delicious cream. 

Rafa held your hips down mercilessly as you fought your next orgasm.  He tongued you through it, taking all that you had to give him and successfully keeping you from running from it.

When he rose from between your legs, and wiped his face with the back of his hand, you looked as if you were going to sleep, your eyes vacant and rolling back in your head.  You were in shock from all the pleasure.

"Get that ass up."

You languidly obeyed and stood before him, eyes glowing and sexy ass lips smiling. Something in Rafael’s heart lurched and he couldn’t explain to anyone why. He was mad for some reason. 

Conflicted with different emotions, he just grabbed your waist and roughly turned you around, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back as he bent you over the arm of the couch.

You looked amazing in what you were wearing. He rubbed your ass before he smacked it, hard. Rafa was rewarded with a moan and an arched back. 

“Are you ready for this dick?” He smiled as he put the tip alllllmost in.

“Wait…”

Then he remembered.  “Shit.” 

He went into your bedroom, seeing your suitcase set up and mostly packed for the trip.  He brushed away the feeling that he had at what that meant and quickly went to your bedside table for a condom. He didn’t want to lose the vibe.

He came back into the living room to the sight of you still bent over, head resting on the couch cushion.  He stroked himself to full staff again, put the condom on, and lined up with your cunt.

“Still ready?” 

He didn’t have to ask as he heard your moan and felt you try to push back to take him.  He stilled your movement with this hand on your hip, wanting to prolong the anticipation.  His heart skipped a beat as you asked him for it.

“Please, Rafa, please give it to me…”

“Damn.”

He sank into you, none too easily. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight. And so wet. I love to see you cream for me, Holly. Can’t wait to feel it again.” He couldn’t wait until you returned, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about condoms. That is if you hadn’t…

He brushed the thought of you with another man out of his mind and slapped your ass, angry again.  You whimpering beneath him had him almost out of control.  You, it seemed, were on the same page.

“Oh, Rafa.  I’m so close already. I’m going to….” Rafa just kept hitting that spot, making your knees buckle. You were grateful for the support of the couch arm.

“Fuck, Rafa… I’m gonna c-c-cummmmmm.” You started pounding around him, and he grabbed the back of your neck.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK, fuck, fuck.” Rafa had no other words at the moment.

You were screaming into the couch cushion as he emptied his cum into the condom, his hips stuttering and erratic in their rhythm. 

He leaned over you and onto your back after he was spent, for just a few moments. Then, he straightened up and made his way to your bathroom to get rid of the condom. 

Rafael washed up a little and looked at himself in the mirror. It was hopeless.  He brought out a washcloth for you and found you curled up on the couch.

“Let me..” Rafa approached you to clean you up, and you let him, trying not to register the intimacy and tenderness of the act.  He was just being a good friend.

When he was done, you thanked him and went to the bathroom, shaking your head at yourself in the mirror. You felt helpless and a slave to the feelings that weren’t supposed to be there.

You made your way back into your bedroom, took off the garter and hose, and pulled on some sweats and a tee.

In the living room, Rafa was dressed as well. And standing by the door. Your heart sank a little. But you smiled and went toward him.

“Thank you, that was just what I needed after a long week. You headed out?”

Why didn’t you just invite him to stay over?

“Yeah, I better go. You probably have a ton to do before you leave.”

Rafael didn’t know how to say that he wanted to stay, but if he did, he would wind up saying too much. “Can I have a hug?” He needed you in his arms, just one more time.

You smiled at him. “Is it even a question, after what we just did?”

You were sad that he didn’t want really to hug, he just wanted to fuck. He was just being nice, but that didn’t keep you from burying your head in his chest and squeezing tight as you went into his embrace. 

Rafael inhaled the scent of your hair and closed his eyes as he cradled you, holding you close to his heart. “You have a safe trip, and a good time with your people. Merry Christmas again, Holly.”

Your eyes welled up as you kept your head in his chest. “I will, Rafa. Thank you so much again for today. It was everything. Merry Christmas, Rafa. Have a good one.”

You lowkey wiped your eyes on his shirt before you looked up at him and smiled. You gazed at each other for a minute before he let you go.

“See you in a few days. You know, maybe.” He fumbled for the doorknob behind him.

You laughed and smiled, catching his heart. “Yeah, see you next week. Possibly.”

“Bye Holly.” He’d finally found the doorknob and was backing out of it.

“See ya, Rafael.” You were shaking your head at him as you closed the door.

You leaned against it for a long time as Rafa made his way to the car, and banged his head on the steering wheel.

You both were idiots in love. And you didn’t even realize it.

-------

Let me know if you liked it! Like, comment, reblog, please. 😁

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

one wish granted

Summary: You could have wished that the man you had loved all your life finally would love you back. It was him granting the wishes after all. Instead you wished you had never met him. That you really didn’t remember him maybe was the punishment Max deserved most.

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Wordcount: 2.6k+

Warnings: Spoilers for WW84, fluff, angst

A/N: I don’t know why but I’m hella scared to post this. Hope you enjoy it anyways x

Masterlist

*taglist in reblog

Of course you found yourself back where it all started. These walls held so many memories. Back when you had dreams. When you would work into the middle of the night just because you wanted him to be happy. To have a better future for you and the man you loved. Even if he never loved you in the same way. But years went by and things changed. 

Yes, you still wanted success but above all you wanted him to love you back. He made it very clear you weren’t more to him than just a friend. So one day, when he told you that he met someone and wanted to expand the company you decided to end this. This crush of yours. To end going above all to please him, to make him see you in any other way than his friend and business partner. You wouldn’t find happiness pining over a man who would never see you the same way you saw him.

Maxwell had changed so much from the first time you met him to this day. The insecure boy who had helped you sell lemonades after school turned into a man desperate for success. But still insecure. He even changed his name. Shaking your head you looked over the chaos on the streets. You remembered the many nights you sat in this window with some shitty take out. You didn’t know why you had the urge to go and visit the tiny office space you and him had started his business in. The business that started here had turned into one of the biggest companies in the states. Even more so in the last weeks. That’s when you noticed the change in him. He seemed possessed and you couldn’t take it anymore. Quitting your post, sad when he didn’t seem to mind. Of course, you hadn’t stopped loving him. Maybe you had stayed all these years to feel close to him. The real Max, that didn’t sell his soul for some crazy idea of power. Power always came with a price. That he still hadn’t learned that after all these years…

You had no problems entering the office, now occupied by some other company, the place deserted. People probably off to live their dream now that it seemed they were granted. You saw the TV on a shelf Max looking sick and tired as he continued to ask the whole world for their wishes. A sad smile tugged to your lips.

“I wish we would have never met and I would never have fallen in love with you.”

The next day

With a smile on your lips you made your way through the busy streets. After the chaos of the previous days, people seemed desperate to get back to their old routine. The bistro at the corner already had your usual breakfast order ready. You gave them a generous tip and continued your way down the street. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so light. So happy. 

The longer you walked the more you thought about the fact that you didn’t know where you were actually going. Frowning, you stopped in front of an impressive building. Biting your lip you looked up. Black Gold. The name rang something and you knew it was where you worked. Like on autopilot you made your way into the building, getting more confused the longer you walked and saw no person working inside.

It was at the door of your office that you looked to your side, to the office next to yours, reading the name “Maxwell Lord, CEO” on the door. Pushing the door slowly open you were surprised to find a man sitting at the desk, his head in his hands. He didn’t seem to have noticed you as you looked at him. He had golden hair that seemed unnatural. His shirt was dirty, his tie loose. Letting your view wander you saw Alistar sleeping on the sofa. A soft smile tugged to your lips. You always adored the child. 

“You came.” Your head snapped to the man, his focus now on you, his brown eyes seemed relieved.

“Of course. I work here.” I think you added in your thoughts. Everything seemed a little cloudy since you woke up this morning. It seemed like your mind was trying to desperately try to remember something, like waking up after a dream you couldn’t remember. Looking into the man's eyes in front of you, the same feeling washed over you. You should know him. He was the CEO of this company. The company you had worked in for the last ten years. 

“I don’t think there is much work left here.” He sighed. You could see the sadness in his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused. He chuckled.

“Come on el cerebro. I know you want to say it.”

“Say what?” You walked into the office.

“That you were right. That I should have listened to you. That you told me this wouldn’t end well.” He shook his head and you could see the tears in his eyes.

“I…”, you could feel the beginning of a headache. “Why would I tell you that? I don’t even know you.” 

Whenever Max had fucked up in the past, there was one constant in his life. His best friend. His business partner. His brain. El cerebro. The woman he had shared more nights with, than with his ex-wife. The woman he knew he could always call, no matter how much he had fucked up. Because you were his family. But now looking up into your eyes he felt like this was a cruel joke. He could take everything. He would take whatever punishment the world had in store for him, God knows he deserved it. But losing his best friend? 

“What do you mean you don’t know me? We’ve known each other since we were 13 years old.”, he asked quietly. Suddenly very tired you sat down in front of him.

“I... I don’t… We have never met each other,” you said. You looked at him, your heart breaking at the look he gave you. 

“Please… Please don’t…,” he closed his eyes, his head back in his hands as he began to sob.

“Auntie Ce.” Alistar said and you turned your head, smiling at the boy. You got up from your seat, shielding him from the man you knew was his father as you walked over and sat down next to him. He hugged you tightly.

“I missed you,” he whispered against your neck.

“I missed you too,” you ran your hand through his hair. “Are you spending the day with your dad?”

“I think so. He promised to ask you to bake a cake with us.” Alistar said excitedly. You smiled, looking over to Max sitting at his desk, watching the two of you. Of course you must have known him. You knew that he was Alistar’s father. You knew that you were Alistar’s godmother. You knew that you had been working here all your life. You knew every detail of your life.

Why was it that you couldn’t remember him? 

A big part of your life? You felt the familiarity between you. But you had no memory of ever meeting him. 

“Well then, let’s go bake some cake.” 

It seemed like every memory that connected to Maxwell Lord’s face had vanished from your mind. You could remember every little detail of your life. You could remember everything that had ever happened, but Maxwell seemed to be erased.

It was a month after the day you walked into the office that you found yourself at his old house. He had sold it and asked you if you would like to pick up some of your stuff. The relationship between the two of you was complicated. You could see the hurt on his face every time you looked at him. The hopeful glint of his eyes that maybe you did remember him. Walking through the hallway you saw the many pictures hanging on the walls. You could see yourself on many of them. Standing next to Maxwell on the first day in the new headquarters of Black Gold. You in his arms, laughing with Alistar in your lap who was grinning from ear to ear after having his first spaghetti bolognese. 

You and Maxwell when you were younger in your old apartment, painting the walls. You remembered each of these moments. Why couldn’t you remember him? You could see the way you looked at him in the last picture. You don’t remember ever being in love. You had spent the last weeks wondering how it was possible to not remember one of the most important people in your life. Maybe the most important person in your life. Maybe it was time to ask said person for some answers.

You knew what he had done. He had told you it was him who tried to turn the world into chaos by granting wishes. You didn’t understand it in detail, but you could see how sorry he was. And you knew he was ready for all the consequences he might be facing. He was bankrupt, he almost lost his son, his best friend didn’t remember him, and the hearing next week didn’t do anything to ease his mind.

You felt sorry for him, yet a part of you knew that this had to happen for him to finally notice that he couldn’t continue like in the past.

“I have your stuff here.” You heard him. Turning around you gave him a small smile as you walked over.

There was all kinds of stuff on the kitchen table, yet a little velvet box caught your attention.

“What’s this?” you asked, reaching for it. You didn’t see the alarming look in his eyes as you opened the box and saw a ring staring back at you. Gasping you looked up into his warm eyes. You could see the way he sucked his bottom lip in, something he always did when he was nervous. But only in front of you. 

“I forgot to put it away…,” he shook his head.

“Max, why is there a diamond ring on this table?” you whispered. In the back of your mind you noticed how he had been wearing the shirt you gifted him for his last birthday. He sat down next to you, gently grabbing your hand that was still holding the box.

“I bought this ring almost 10 years ago. You had just told me to go fuck myself cause I had invested all our money into what in the end was a good call.”

“I wasn’t pissed because of the money. I was pissed because you didn’t tell me,” you shook your head, remembering how mad you were at him.

“I know. You had been so angry. That’s one thing I admire about you. You don’t take my bullshit. If I would have listened to you, all of this wouldn’t have happened.” 

You sighed.

“I couldn’t take it anymore, Max. You were destroying not only the company but yourself and everything that mattered to you. You didn’t even blink when I said I won’t be back if you choose power over our friendship.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything that happened, believe me. If I could turn back time, I would. But you know what the hardest thing has been? Losing you. I was blind. So blind.”

You felt a nervous flutter inside of you.

“10 years ago, when you left for your vacation in Spain, I bought this ring. Because I couldn’t imagine a life without you. I knew, know, that I love you. More than a friend. You are the only woman I ever loved and I will be sorry forever that I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s probably selfish to do now, but I don’t even know what we are at this point.” He shook his head, looking at the floor. You didn’t even notice that you had started to cry until a tear dropped on the back of your hand. He loved you? 10 years ago? You shook your head.

“Why did you marry Vanessa then? If you loved me?” you whispered. He looked up, one of his hands reaching out, his thumb brushing the tears on your cheeks away.

“It was one drunk night that I got her pregnant. I couldn’t… It was stupid. I shouldn’t have married her. I never really loved her. I just loved the idea of having a family.”

“Max…”

“It doesn’t matter now. The universe is punishing me by making you forget about me. Cruel, but probably what I deserve. I’m only sad about not knowing if you…” He stopped, looking down to your joined hands.

“If I would have said yes? If I loved you too?” you whispered. He nodded. You swallowed. When he looked up it seemed like everything came crashing down on you. Every single moment you had spent with him. Every single time it had broken your heart that the man in front of you didn’t have the same feelings for you.

“Max did you never ask yourself why in all the years we’ve known each other, I never even had a date?” you asked him. He looked at you, his eyes not leaving yours.

“I have never even kissed before. I’m in my thirties and I have never been kissed, and you know why? Because I thought the man who I was in love with, didn’t take me for more than a friend,” you closed your eyes. “When I saw your broadcast, asking people for their wishes, I made a wish too.” You sucked your bottom lip in. 

“I wished to have never met you, and to not have fallen in love with you.” Opening your eyes you looked at him. He squeezed your hand.

“You remember? You love me?” he whispered.

“Since the first day we met,” you nodded.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”, he shook his head, his eyes swimming in tears. You smiled sadly, looking down at the beautiful ring in the box. It wasn’t something special, just a white gold band with an emerald green stone.

“Ask me now,” you whispered. He blinked as he looked at you. A million emotions on his face. 

“You sure?” You only nodded at him. He breathed in deeply before he got up from the chair to kneel down in front of you, grabbing the velvet box to fully take your hand.

“I have loved you for the last 10 years. Every day. Every night. Every moment we did not spend together and every moment we did spend together. I have done so much damage not only to you but to the entire planet. I don’t have anything to offer you other than my heart. Will you marry me?” 

You couldn’t help the smile as you looked at him, tears in your eyes.

“Yes. Yes I will marry you.” You nodded. Max’s lips mirrored your smile as he took the ring out to push it on your left ring finger. You looked down at it, reaching for him to come closer as you parted your legs, so he was kneeling in between them.

“No more wasting time. No more lies. I just want you, Max. No matter if you’re rich or poor. I love you.” You framed his face with your hands and he nodded, his nose brushing over yours. It was you who leaned in your lips brushing over his. It was all you ever imagined it would be and better. You felt his arms closing around you, bringing you closer as he deepened the kiss, his teeth on your bottom lip.

“I love you.”, he whispered against your lips.

“I love you too.”

[blossom-hwa]

valentine’s day + golcha ✧

blame @wingkkun​ for enabling me :) as well as @thepixelelf​ for putting up the list of valentine’s day prompts on her network @newskynet​ (check out the list and the network here!) that inspired these little blurbs! i really encourage anyone to join in on the event and use the prompts, they’re super cute and hella funny :) 

anyway happy early valentine’s day! there’ll be more blurbs for the boyz and stray kids leading up to the day of, and changmin’s interwoven story will top the holiday off <3

(find other valentine’s day blurbs for the boyz and stray kids here whenever i put up the masterlist!)

pairing: golcha x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 4.9k (total)

genre: fluff, pure fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing, like one slightly implied mention of sex (it’s the first couple sentences of sungyoon’s story, but absolutely nothing explicit)

stray kids version | the boyz version

Golden Child Masterlist

9. “i’m allergic to roses.”

jaehyun doesn’t know why his boss decided to give him the valentine’s day shift. it’s annoying and stupid and dumb, especially when he just wants to spend the entire day with you, but you have class and he has work. so jaehyun resigns himself to being forced to work in the pits of hell on the supposed day of love (it’s a drugstore on valentine’s day. he’s pretty sure he won’t even be able to count the number of boyfriends and girlfriends who’ve forgotten to buy their partner a gift and have come to this shitty CVS for a last minute card or box of chocolates). 

slumped over on the counter after opening, waiting for the first wave of poor significant others to come washing in, jaehyun doesn’t even bother to move when the automatic doors slide open and a few pairs of footsteps sound on the floor. only when someone steps in front of him does he actually look up, immediately plastering on his customer service smile (that you’ve always found simultaneously hilarious and scary - “you look so dead inside, i don’t know what to say!” “i’m not dead inside!” “jaehyun, you’re in university. we’re all dead inside”), but it immediately drops when you step up to the counter and pass over a bouquet of tulips (not roses this time, thank god - jaehyun doesn’t need a repeat of the time you brought them and he had to break it to you between sneezes that “i’m allergic to roses.”), laughing at the expression of shock on his face. 

“wanted to bring you something nice in the morning since we won’t see each other until later,” you explain, pushing the bouquet into his hands. “i’ll meet you in front of your dorm, right? don’t be late.” 

holding the flowers, jaehyun doesn’t know what to do but nod and smile, smile so brightly it feels like the sun has come down to rest in his heart because by god, you’re the sweetest thing in this entire world and he loves you so, so much. “okay,” he breathes, unable to stop his eyes from crinkling as he smiles. “i’ll see you then.”

you lean over the counter and press a brief kiss on his lips. the bouquet nearly falls to the ground as he scrambles to lean in, to extend this bit of affection as long as he can, but then someone coughs and you two break away, jaehyun red-faced and blushing, you laughing as both of you turn to the customer holding two bags of lollipops with a smirk and a raised eyebrow on their face. jaehyun only blushes harder as you squeeze his hand one last time, supremely unconcerned, and murmur “see you later” before walking back out the door. 

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

exactly one week ago, jangjun’s professor gave the entire lecture hall a stern talking-to regarding valentine’s day activities in class. no kissing, no inappropriate PDA, and “no giving out candy or confessions unless you’ve brought enough for the entire hall.” and given the fact that this is a lecture hall of just under a hundred students, no one is eager to break that rule. 

but on valentine’s day, you come running in just two minutes before class starts, a large shopping bag banging against your legs as you sprint to your seat next to jangjun. he frowns at the bag, looking up at you in confusion, but you only give him a shit-eating grin as the professor walks to the podium. just as he’s about to start the slides, you raise your hand. “professor, i have candy to pass out.”

a whisper runs through the hall as jangjun starts to laugh. you really would. you actually would. y/n, you perfect bastard. professor just raises an eyebrow that jangjun can see all the way from his seat halfway across the hall and replies “do you have enough for the entire class?”

“as a matter of fact, i do!” reaching into the bag, you pull out two packages of lollipops and brandish them in the air. “all in the spirit of valentine’s day, professor!”

the hall devolves into chaos and laughter and shouts as you run down the rows, throwing candy at every student. jangjun’s laughing with everyone else - even the professor can’t help a smile as you hand him a lollipop too - but then he realizes you’ve completely bypassed his row. no matter, though, right? you’ll probably just come back and give him one when you come back to your seat, or he’ll steal a lollipop away from you. that’s how best friends work, obviously.

but then you’re running down the stairs, finished passing out candy for the rest of the hall. jangjun expects you to slide into your seat but you don’t, instead stopping at the end of the row and tossing him his favorite flavor of lollipop. he grins, about to say something, but your smile has turned slightly nervous and he’s confused - you’re never nervous, never, you didn’t even look like this before you had your first job interview - but then your gaze takes on a steely  determination that’s more characteristic of his favorite friend ever and you say, “wanna go on a date with me?”

screams erupt from the seats around him, but jangjun can only stare as he tries to comprehend what you said. his mouth moves to form words and they are not the words he wants but he never thinks before he speaks and certainly not now when his brain is literally fraying at the edges - 

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

your gaze shutters, your eyes turning dim. the smile on your face is still there but it’s a little forced and jangjun starts panicking because what the fuck, that’s not what he meant, and - “oh my god, y/n, i’m an idiot, i didn’t mean to say that, yes i want to go out with you, holy fuck i’ve wanted to literally since we met -”

“jangjun? shut up.”

he shuts up, terrified he’s messed up forever. but you’re smiling. you’re smiling so wide it looks like the stars themselves have come down to grace your eyes as you sit down next to him and tangle your fingers with his.

there are more screams and someone’s camera flashes but jangjun doesn’t care. he doesn’t fucking care, not when you’ve just asked him out when he’s been pining for you for probably years at this point and jangjun knows he’s grinning like an idiot when he squeezes your hand once, softly, and you squeeze back, winking as you pop a last lollipop into your mouth.

13. “you’re so cheesy. i love it.” (slightly amended from “this is so cheesy. i love it.”)

daeyeol may be dyslexic, but he certainly isn’t blind. as the ta for this lecture section, he’s had a front row seat to the obvious pining tension between jangjun and his best friend since they stepped into class on the first day. when they hand daeyeol a lollipop, he can see jangjun smiling like an absolute idiot even so far away, and when oblivious idiot #1 finally pulls themselves together and asks jangjun on a date, the professor himself can’t help but grin even as he starts clapping his hands to bring the class to order.

as the lecture goes on, daeyeol lets his thoughts wander. he’s been over this particular set of slides so long he could probably talk about them in his sleep (and according to sungyoon, he actually has, though he has no video proof so daeyeol will just put that down to his roommate exaggerating), so he doesn’t feel too bad about not paying attention as the professor keeps talking. he has better things to think about - namely his plans for later today. 

yeah, he has a date. he has a date with, in his humble opinion, the most wonderful and beautiful person in the world. he can’t help but smile when the image of your eyes crinkled in a laugh runs through his mind, the sound of your giggles and snorts making his heart flutter with excitement because holy fuck, he may not want to be in class, but at least he’s going to get to see you for hours later today. 

if he wasn't the ta, he’d be the first one out of class. instead, though, he stays a couple minutes to talk to the professor (he smirks a little bit when jangjun and his best friend-turned-significant other walk out the door, still holding hands) before he finally deems it polite to say goodbye and rush out of the lecture hall to his dorm so he can get changed. 

he’s breathless when he walks out of the flower shop to meet you just an hour later, clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hands. despite the fact that you two have been dating for months already, he still turns shy when you accept the flowers, eyes sparkling in delight. your gaze only turns sweeter, lovelier when you look up from the bouquet to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly as your body presses against his. 

“i missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you as close as he can. 

you laugh. “we saw each other yesterday, daeyeol.”

his name still sounds like honey from your lips. “yeah, but that was still too long.” 

again you laugh, pulling away. before he can complain, your hand slips into his, automatically tangling your fingers together. “you’re so cheesy,” you announce as though you haven’t said the same thing a million times over the course of the last few months. “i love it. anyway, should we go?”

daeyeol smiles, squeezing your hand. “of course. come on.”

4. “valentine’s day is just a ploy to make people buy heart-shaped stuff.” / “what’s that in your hands?” / “none of your business.”

jibeom isn’t anti-valentine’s day, not exactly. it’s just that he doesn’t entirely care for the way capitalism has decided to commercialize love through chocolates and teddy bears when a handwritten card would mean more to him than the most expensive candies in the world. 

which is why he teases daeyeol when the older boy comes into the flower shop where he works part time, even as he wraps up the bouquet of pink and red roses. “still a slave to capitalism, i see.”

daeyeol just snorts. “you think i didn’t see the flower crown you were making when i walked in?”

“yeah, well, i made it. i didn’t buy it.” jibeom ties the last ribbon in a large bow. “i’m not going to be a slave to the machinery of this shitty economic system. valentine’s day is just a ploy to make people buy heart-shaped stuff.”

“what’s that in your hands?”

jibeom shoves a heart-shaped box of chocolate under the counter. “none of your business.”

"yeah, right.” daeyeol snorts, taking the bouquet of flowers. “well, enjoy your date later. hope y/n likes the chocolates.”

jibeom sniffs. “you enjoy yours.” 

with that, daeyeol walks out to meet his partner. jibeom averts his eyes (it’s so weird seeing someone he thinks of as his older brother kissing or hugging something else, even if it’s sweet), but then the door opens again and a wide smile spreads across jibeom’s face when you walk into the shop. 

“your shift is over,” you announce, hopping on a nearby stool so you can lean your elbows on the counter. “time to go!”

“y/n, for the last time, i can’t just end my shift when i want to,” jibeom says. he’s still smiling, though - he knows you don’t mean it, knows that you’ll just hang around and bother him until his shift is actually over and the two of you can go to whatever reservation you made this year. 

you groan. “come on, that’s no fun.”

jibeom snorts. “here, maybe this will keep you busy.” he hands you the chocolate he bought early that morning from a dead-eyed jaehyun (thank god for the flowers his partner brought him at the start of his shift or he probably would’ve keeled over at that point). “happy valentine’s day.”

with a delighted screech, you tear into the box. jibeom watches in amusement. “i thought you didn’t like participating in the valentine’s day capitalist commercialization of love?” you ask, mouth full. 

“i don’t.” jibeom shrugs. “but if it’s for you...”

he doesn’t get to finish before you yank him down by the neck of his shirt to press a full kiss to his lips. “jibeom, i love you more than you can imagine,” you declare when you finally pull away. 

you look beautiful, lips slightly swollen, eyes sparkling. jibeom lifts the finished flower crown from behind the counter and puts it on your head. “there. perfect.”

“hm?” you look up, smiling when you realize what he’s given you. 

“you looked beautiful before,” jibeom explains. “but now you look even more perfect.”

“are you saying that because of your flower crown, i look nicer?” you frown in mock disapproval. “jibeom, that’s awfully egocentric.”

“well, am i wrong?”

your frown splits into a wide grin as you shake your head. “no, not at all.” you squeeze his hand. “anything from you makes me feel beautiful, no matter what it is.”

21. “for me?”

“don’t mind them, jibeom and his partner won’t suck face too much.” the worker rolls his eyes as he walks forward, leading joochan further into the store. “you said roses, right? red roses?”

“yeah.” joochan takes a deep breath, trying to stop himself from screaming internally. “red roses.”

but even as the worker - seungmin, his name tag says - leads him to a selection of deep red flowers, joochan’s starting to second guess himself. what if flowers come off too strong, roses no less? it’s only the first date - and by god, he’s lucky you even accepted, you’re the wittiest and most amazing person he’s ever come across, he never imagined you would actually say yes - and joochan has no idea what to do, how to act, least of all with flowers. 

dimly, joochan becomes aware of seungmin deftly tying the roses together before handing him the bouquet. “come up to the front, you’ll pay there.” he snorts. “hopefully jibeom and his partner aren’t being idiots.”

“i heard that!” comes an indignant shout from the front. despite his nerves, even joochan cracks a smile when seungmin forcefully elbows jibeom out from behind the counter, forcing his partner to stop him from falling over. “yeah you heard that, you think i would’ve said it if i didn’t want you to hear?” seungmin snaps, fingers flying on the register. “that’ll be -”

“joochan?!”

what.

what the fuck. 

joochan spins on his heel to see you standing not three feet away from him, a bouquet of flowers clasped in your own hands as someone else rings up your purchase. for a moment, you two only stare at each other. 

god, joochan wants to melt into the floor. 

“i -” you swallow. “sorry. hi, joochan.”

“hi,” he squeaks, fingers clutching roses in a vice grip. “uh... didn’t expect to see you here?”

“i wanted to get flowers for you,” you mumble, staring resolutely at the ground.

joochan’s brain makes the windows shutting down noise. “for - for me?”

“yeah.” you half-smile, laughing a little as you point at your bouquet. joochan wants to immortalize the sound of your laugh forever in his ears. “wait - here.”

suddenly, joochan has two bunches of roses in his hands and he doesn’t know what to do with either of them. your fingers brush his skin as you hand over the flowers. joochan can feel himself getting redder by the second as he finally figures out that he should also hand over his bouquet to you. 

seungmin’s voice stops him. “you still need to pay,” he says, eyes screwed almost shut with suppressed laughter. 

“oh - right. sorry.” joochan hands his card over, face flaming. seungmin swipes it, gives it back, and joochan finally passes his roses to you. 

for another two seconds, you two just stare, but then you smile (and joochan subsequently feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears, you’re too amazing to look at). “shall we?”

you’ve extended a hand. joochan looks at it dumbly, uncomprehending, but then he realizes you’re asking to hold his hand. gingerly he nods, pressing his palm into yours as an involuntary smile splits his face. “okay,” he breathes. “let’s go.”

25. “i love you.”

“that was... something.” you turn to seungmin, second-hand embarrassment written all over your face. understandable. even if seungmin found it funny, the awkward romantic tension in the air before joochan and his partner left was enough to make his insides curdle. of course, being a perfect worker, he didn’t show it, but...

“were we ever like that?” seungmin wonders aloud, tightening his apron.

jibeom snorts from where he’s taking off his own apron, finished with his shift. lucky bastard. “no, but you’re worse.” he pulls off the green smock, hanging it on a nail in the back. “you’ve been in love since you were like, five. disgustingly mushy.”

“you two suck face in the back whenever you have a spare moment,” you snap, throwing a small handful of discarded leaves at them. 

jibeom’s partner shrugs. “better than being overly romantic and making everyone want to puke on how adorable you two are.” they wave as jibeom drags them out of the shop and down the street. 

you sigh. “sucks that we got the full shift,” you mumble, slumping over the counter. “wish we were doing something better.”

“hey, we get to avoid the crowds tomorrow when we go for our late valentine’s day dinner.” seungmin sits next to you, pulling a bit of leaf out of your hair. “isn’t that better?”

“yeah.” you sit up, leaning against your elbow to smile at him. even after so many years together, the sparkle in your eyes still makes seungmin’s heart flutter. “kinda works out. i just don’t want to work.”

“lazy,” seungmin teases, kissing you briefly. 

despite the insult, you smile against his lips before pulling away. “asshole.”

“hey,” he whines. “an asshole wouldn’t do this, would they?” he picks up a discarded rose - still perfect, really, the stem just got snapped a little too short for a bouquet - and tucks it behind your ear. “would they?”

you laugh. “no, of course not.” you rise from your seat and glance from side to side. when nobody enters the shop, you wrap your arms around his neck. seungmin’s hands automatically loop your waist as you kiss him long, full, deep. 

“i love you,” you murmur against his lips. “i love you every day, regardless of whether or not it’s valentine’s day.”

“same here.” seungmin raises a hand, cups your cheek. you lean into his touch. “i love you too, y/n.”

3. “what, no roses?”

when sungyoon walks into the flower shop, a tray of coffee in hand, to see two of his friends locking lips just behind the counter, he only sighs. at least they aren’t trying to eat each other’s faces like some other couples he saw in the cafe today. and not much could be worse than that one time daeyeol forgot to hang a sock on the door before sungyoon got back home. 

seungmin and his partner of well over five years (they’re cute. disgustingly cute and so in love it makes sungyoon want to retch sometimes) break apart, thankfully, when he puts two cups of coffee on the counter. “enjoy,” he deadpans to a nonplussed seungmin and his equally unbothered partner. 

"oh, thanks.” seungmin takes one, draining half of it in one go. “oh my god, this is so good.”

“of course, it is, sungyoon made it.”

sungyoon nearly jumps. how is it that you always manage to sneak up on him? he can’t figure it out. but even though his heart is pounding, he turns around with a smile on his face to catch you when launch yourself into his arms for a hug. “hey, sungyoon,” you murmur into his skin.

“hey, yourself.” he smiles, pulling away to take you in. “you look beautiful.” as always. 

“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you tease, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind your back, smiling widely. “for you.”

sungyoon smiles, taking the delicate stems between his hands. “what, no roses?”

“nope,” you reply, popping the p. “our shop ran out. and i’m not about to buy from my competitors.”

a scoff sounds as sungyoon laughs. you narrow your eyes at seungmin and his partner, who are both replying to your gaze with mock glares of their own. it actually used to be a real point of contention, the fact that sungyoon had started dating a worker at the rival florist a few streets away, but now it’s all fun and games.

tulips and carnations, pink and red, fragrant and delicate. sungyoon breathes in their scent before turning back to the counter to hand you one of the last two cups of coffee in the tray. “your favorite.”

“thanks.” you take a long sip before leaning in to kiss him with coffee-tasting lips. “ready to go?”

“absolutely.” he takes your hand, squeezing your palm gently. “come on. we’ve got a long evening planned, don’t we?”

11. “it’s so cold! why can’t valentine’s day be in summer?!”

bomin collapses on the floor as the music turns off for the last time that evening. “oh my god,” he gasps, staring at the ceiling. “y/n, i literally hate you.”

“not my fault you aren’t flexible enough,” you snip, effortlessly folding your legs as you sit down next to his prone figure. “now get up. i got you coffee from that place you like.”

in a flash, he’s sitting, making grabby hands for the cup between your fingers. “did sungyoon make it?” 

“yes.” you roll your eyes but hand him the coffee anyway, smiling. “sometimes i think you love him more than me, you know?”

“impossible.” bomin pouts at you over the cup. “i love you more than anything.”

“i know, i’m just teasing.” you stand, reach out a hand, and pull him up. “gross, you’re all sweaty.”

“i just danced for an entire hour and on our anniversary no less, valentine’s day, the most romantic day of the year -”

“yeah, yeah.” you nudge him with your shoulder as you two leave the studio. “you’re the one who told me to make sure you do your stretching exercises every day, right? valentine’s day is no exception. we did so much earlier in the day, too - you can’t say we didn’t have fun.” a smirk rises on your lips and you nudge him again. “besides, whose fault is it that our anniversary is on the cheesiest day of the year?”

bomin groans as the two of you walk out into cold air. “listen, daeyeol and everyone else was giving me extremely bad advice and i couldn’t wait and i just wanted it to be romantic, okay -”

“i know.” you pause in your step, reach up, and press a soft kiss on his lips. “i know, bomin. you’ve told me this before.”

“then don’t tease me,” he grumbles, dodging donghyun and youngtaek as they run, screaming about cold, into the dance studios where it’s warmer. “it’s so cold,” he continues grumbling, burrowing his head into his coat. “why can’t valentine’s day be in summer?”

a laugh sparkles from your lips, and against his grumpy will, bomin finds the corners of his mouth lifting at the sound. “can’t exactly control when a saint dies,” you reply, linking your arm with his. “and isn’t it kind of sweet? holding hands to keep each other warm?”

bomin sighs, allowing the smile to full spread across his face. “i guess,” he concedes, unlinking your arms so he can hold your hand in his. “still doesn’t mean i don’t want to get back to the dorms and cuddle you right now.”

“well, the faster you go, the faster we get back!” you fling his hand away, sprinting forward onto the path. “last one back is the bigger idiot!”

“hey!” bomin complains, trying to follow behind on legs still shaky from exercise. “hey, slow down!”

“hell no!” you yell. “running fast will get you warm!”

(bomin does catch up to you in the end, grabbing your hand just outside the dorm and spinning you around to press a laughing kiss against your lips. he’s warm, now, warm from the exercise, but he feels far warmer from the feeling of your arms wrapped around him.)

5. “30 roses, one for every cat you’re gonna have when you’re old and alone.”

at first, donghyun doesn’t notice when you appear in the dance studio. you come in quietly, the noise of the door opening and closing overpowered by the music blasting from the speaker in the corner. he’s too focused on youngtaek and his partner, making sure every one of their movements is perfectly in sync. 

when the music fades, clapping sounds and donghyun turns to see you standing just inside the studio, smiling behind a large bouquet of roses. he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he bounds up to you and crushes you in a sweaty hug. “hi.”

“hello to you too, sweaty.” you push him away playfully. “don’t crush the roses!”

donghyun pouts but obediently wipes his face off on a towel youngtaek hands him. “you value the roses over me,” he whines. 

“not so.” you laugh. “i value the roses because they’re for you, and when i actually hand them over, i want them to still look nice.”

donghyun melts into the wooden studio floor. he really does. youngtaek takes advantage of his whipped™ moment and shoves him out the door with his belongings, leaving you to follow behind as fast as possible before you’re trapped in the studio. 

once outside, you take donghyun’s (now dry) hand. “flowers for donghyun,” you announce, pressing the bouquet into his other palm. “thirty roses, one for every cat you’re gonna have when you’re old and alone.”

“old and alone?” donghyun stops in his tracks. “what about you?”

“oh shit.” you laugh. “i didn’t think about that. i’ll be there with you, of course. just us and our thirty cats. unless you get tired of me before then.”

you say it with a joking tone, but donghyun still pouts at your words. “i’m not going to get tired of you,” he says, squeezing your hand tighter. “never, y/n.”

a small, shy smile spreads across your lips and donghyun revels in the feeling of making you feel flustered on this lovely day. “all right, donghyun.” the smile grows wider. “i could never get tired of you either.”

he kisses your cheek, kisses the corner of your lips. you start whining for him to give you a real kiss and he laughs, dancing out of the way. “only if you promise not to say stuff like that anymore,” he bargains, dodging your lips. “promise!”

“i promise!” you trap him between your arms, leaning in close as your eyes sparkle. “i promise, donghyun.”

“okay,” he breathes, pulling you closer. “okay.”

against your lips, he smiles. 

2. “happy valentine’s day.”

music blasts in the background as you and youngtaek begin cleaning up your studio. even though you both are exhausted from hours of dancing, the music seems to work its way into your veins again as you pick up the last few things from the floor. twirling once or twice in time to the beat, you put them back in your bag before spinning, arms held out wide.

youngtaek catches you, pulling your hand as it flies out and dipping you down. his eyes crinkle as he smiles, face just inches away from yours. he braves the small chasm to kiss you briefly before holding you closer, losing himself in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. 

for a few blissful moments, you only stare, smiling into each other’s eyes. the pounding music fades, soon replaced with a slow, soft song. 

youngtaek breaks your silence. “hey, dance with me?”

you laugh. “we’ve been dancing for hours, youngtaek. you’re not tired already?”

he kisses you again. “never tired if i’m with you.”

with that, you twirl him around, giggling as he spins dramatically before wrapping his arms around your waist once more. you put your hands on his shoulders and sway slowly, gently, peacefully, as the music rolls around you in waves. 

youngtaek likes it like this, likes it peaceful and quiet and calm. for others, valentine’s day might be about big displays of love, over the top shows of romance, but even though those are nice every once in a while, it’s possible to show so much love in a soft look, a gentle touch, in the feeling of his head resting against your shoulder as you sway gently to the music. 

he doesn’t need roses, doesn’t need chocolates or jewelry to know that you love him and he loves you. he’ll treasure the handmade card you gave him this morning, just as you’ll listen to the song he composed you for weeks, months, and hopefully years. head tucked into your neck, he presses a soft kiss to the skin, smiling at the way you shiver slightly against him. 

“tired?” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. 

youngtaek’s eyes close in bliss. “not yet.” it’s not quite a lie, he still has strength in his legs, but he wants to stay in your embrace just a little longer. just a little.

“if you say so.” your fingers continue carding through his hair. “we can go whenever you want.”

“okay.” youngtaek’s smile widens. “i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, youngtaek.” you pull away slightly, kiss his forehead. “happy valentine’s day.”

[btsfaris]

bugboy (m)

pairing: mark lee!spiderman x reader.

words: 7.4k

genre: smut, humor, fluff, action. hella angst.

a/n: thank u to the reader who recommended me to join both of my favorite worlds together and create this masterpiece :’) <3

-

You always wondered why life teased you this way? Why God made Mark Lee, the cutest and smartest boy in Queens exist in your lifetime, yet make him so unavailable to you. It was simply just plain, unfair torture to you.

You’ve known about Mark since high school, others might think of him as nerdy and even a bit weird whenever he runs out of a room abruptly — but you always excused it as a need to go to the bathroom or a family emergency, just like he always said. Despite that fact, he was practically flawless. Always top of his class and sweet to everyone, even to Flash, who never returned the kind gestures. 

Truthfully, you have never spoken to your high school crush because that’s exactly what he is, a crush and nothing more. Of course, there have been times where you’ve bumped into each other at social events or in the hallways, but your anxiety always got to you and you’d practically run away whenever he said a simple hello or smiled at you.

It didn’t help he was extremely gorgeous either, soft wavy brown hair and big doe eyes that could make any girl drop to their knees — literally. He was taller than most guys and his style wasn’t as basic, just casually trendy. Mark wasn’t exactly popular but he was well-known for his internship at Stark industries that he got freshman year.

Basically you never had a chance with him in high school even if you dreamed about it, because Mark was the school’s it-guy and you were just, nobody. Just a random classmate he had and that was all. Not to mention he was always pining after Liz Allan, then once she moved, it was MJ. So no chance there.

Now that you’re in college, you had hoped that your stupid crush would go away and you’d meet a nice guy who would sweep you off your feet. But as luck will have it, when you’re moving into your dorm you see Mark on campus with a couple of his close friends, all helping him move stuff into a dorm as well. Great.

So that’s where you are now, into your second year of college with your high school crush; who has now become your college crush and will quite possibly be the death of you. You can only hope that he doesn’t go to the same graduate school as you. You’ve managed to go this far without him noticing you though, because it would probably be too embarrassing for you if he remembered you as the weird girl who would run out on him. You’ve gone this far.

Until tonight of course.

You’re at a party, not one you wanted to go willingly but your roommate forced you from your warm cocoon of a bed and season 6 grey’s anatomy on netflix, with the words “you never leave the room and I need a sober friend to make sure I don’t have my nudes leaked,” so here you are.

Leaning against a wall in an empty corner, watching as your fellow students drink their kidneys to shit and dance practically in their underwear. Some are either in the bathroom getting coked up, or getting cocked down. The music is blasting loudly in your ears and you hum along to the beat of a whiny pop song that’s popular this week. Your roommate had ditched you a long time ago to go “dance with a guy” but you know that it’s code for ‘I’m getting dick tonight.’

You’re on your second cup of some mixed fruity punch that is spiked with 3 different hard liquors but you don’t really care since you didn’t pay for it. Serving yourself another cup, you turn around and scan the large room. Everyone in the dance floor is packed so closely together like a can of sardines. Your eyes land on a familiar adoring face that makes you smile, he’s wearing a red flannel and a random band tee with black ripped jeans.

He’s talking to some of his friends but a random girl is on his side, practically crawling for his attention. You laugh at the scene and it’s almost like he recognizes it, because when his eyes look around, they land on you. You don’t look away as usual, and he stares at you for a moment before he smiles. An actual, soft smile that makes you want to hug him and kiss his face.

Instead you turn around as fast you can, walking to the front door. You’re halfway down the driveway when you hear someone calling you.

“Hey!” You turn around and see Mark jogging softly to you, the same smile on his face, “you went to the same high school as me right?”

Oh my god, what the hell are you supposed to say.

“Y-Yeah,” you manage to blurt out and his smile actually widens. Holy shit.

“Cool, thought I recognized you,” he says, his brown eyes sparkling under the moonlight, “so you go to Empire State Uni too?”

You nod, trying to keep your composure.

“Funny, wonder why I haven’t run into you before..” you blink at him.

“Yeah.. um, I should, probably go get my friend–it’s getting late,” you stammer and avoid eye contact, trying to move around him.

“Hey wait,” he stops in front of you again, hands raised in defense, “did I do something to you in high school? I’m sorry if I did, I tried to be nice to everyone.”

You shake your head immediately, “no you didn’t, it’s just you’re Mark Lee–”

“And you’re y/n, the girl who always runs away from me,” He gives you a soft grin that makes you weak in the knees.

“You know my name?” you ask him, confused.

“Yes of course, everyone knew who you were,” he chuckles, “you tutored a lot of people, not to mention head of the homecoming committee.”

“Oh yeah that, haha,” you let out a weak giggle, completely embarrassed.

“I think it’s cool that you helped out so much, I wish I were that nice,” Mark compliments you.

“But you’re Mark Lee, you’re nice to everyone, even to that know-it-all Flash. If anyone is admirable, it’s you,” you say without a single thought.

His eyes widen slightly and you blush immediately in shame at your outburst.

“You think I’m admirable?–”

“I gotta go! My friend needs me!” you charge past him successfully this time and run into the house without another look, “bye Mark!”

-

“A little birdy told me you were talking to Mark Lee at the party, spill the tea!” Your roommate Jisoo squeals, jumping on your bed. You bounce lightly, taking out your headphones and scrunch your nose at her, “I’m working on my History essay right now.”

“Whatever- Tell me all about your sexversation with Mark!”

“What? How do you know I talked to-“

“Doesn’t matter! Spill!”

“Nothing happened, he remembered me from high school, that’s it. There was no sex involved.”

“So you didn’t run out on him like you always did before? You had an actual conversation with him like a normal human being right?”

“Yes, sort of, kinda?” You push your reading glasses up your nose bridge, “he knew my name.”

“Oh my god!” She squeals three pitches higher than usual, making you groan, “he’s in love with you, he remembered you from high school!”

“No he isn’t, he mentioned that I tutored before so I probably helped one of his old pals, not a big deal,” you mutter, eyes focusing back on the laptop.

“Y/n, honey, how mad would you be if I smacked the sense back into you?”

“Don’t you dare Jisoo, I will hide all of your nice panties when you have a dick appointment,” you warn, and she sighs in frustration.

“Fine! But when you guys fall in love, don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” She singsongs, moving back to her bed to finally leave you at peace.

She’s completely crazy.. right?

Midterms were getting closer and closer as the days went on. It has been a while since your little encounter with Mark at the party and your roommate had finally stopped bugging you about it. Your life was going back to normal, despite you constantly revisiting that moment in time where you actually held a conversation with the love of your life. Still, you had bigger things to focus on and a degree to get, not some fantasy-land boyfriend.

You’re at the library, having been studying your brains out for the past 3 hours and it’s honestly all turned to mush at this point. Too many things to stuff into your head all at once and you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. All you need is a nice cup of coffee to regain your senses and energy back, but you also don’t want to lose your spot either. Resting your head in your arms, you close your eyes for a moment, composing yourself to go back to another 3 hours of cramming.

You feel a soft tap on your arm, and raise your head, looking at a smiling Mark once again. He’s sporting grey sweats and a Midtown High hoodie. “I brought you a cup,” he says shyly, placing a cup of coffee in front of you, “you looked like you needed it.” You look at the cup and back at him awkwardly.

“You probably don’t want to talk to me.. so I’ll go study somewhere else,” his smile slips away slightly, and he turns around to walk away.

“Mark, wait,” you call out, and he stops in his tracks.

“You can sit with me, I don’t mind,” you manage to say and he turns to you with raised brows.

“You sure? I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he lightly blushes and you almost visibly swoon at his cuteness.

“Please,” you smile softly, “I could use your company.”

Mark blinks at your words before his face breaks into the cute, goofy grin that you’ve only seen when he’s with his friends.

After that day, Mark has become your friend, though could you even call him that? I mean, he always hangs out around you now, brings you coffee when you need it and helps you study with that big brain of his. You admire him really, how he manages to get straight A’s, go to classes everyday and work at his internship is beyond you. You can barely keep up with your 8am classes, let alone work and study full time. He’s as amazing as he was in high school and it does little to help your heart from yearning for him as something more.

Despite the big step of becoming close to Mark, you still don’t have a chance, especially now that you’re technically friend zoned right? Even then, Mark is still Mark, still handsome as ever and completely out of your league. If he wasn’t popular in high school, he certainly is now. All the girls in the university have their eye on him, including Gwen Stacy, quite possibly the most beautiful girl on campus. She is a chem major, just like Mark and as equally well known as him.

They were perfect for each other actually, even if you dread the thought of it. You know you should probably stop talking to Mark if you want to move on like you had planned, but he is such a sweet person that you couldn’t possibly just ignore him like that. With his big puppy eyes looking at you, soft lips that you could kiss for like, ever-

“Earth to y/n!” One of your group partners for your finance project taps your notebook with their pencil, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Huh? Sorry!” You cough, refocusing on the project. “Anyways like I was saying, we should set up a chart, for the company budget cuts-“

Before she can continue, the floor beneath you trembles and the walls shake in the library. Everyone looks around confused before another loud rumble is heard, following screams. Your eyes widen as everyone runs out to find out what all the commotion is. As you make it outside, you halt in your step when you look up. You’re not sure what it is at first, until mechanical tentacles start to swing around, gripping on to surfaces.

“Where is he?!” The man at the top of the machine yells, “I know spiderman is on this campus! Where are you?!”

Everyone begins to run away as he walks closer but you stay put in shock, “Fine! I’ll make one of you tell me where he is!” You look as he zones in across from you, right on Jisoo who is equally as scared and doesn’t move from where she is. He raises one of his arms to grab her but you push her out of the way, “Jisoo run!”

You feel something wrap around your waist, lifting you up roughly into the air. Letting out the loudest scream you’ve ever done, you try to get out of his grip as he lifts you in front of him.

“Saving your friend huh? God I hate heroes,” the man sneers, “now where’s spiderman?!”

“Put me down!” you scream, flailing aimlessly.

“Tell me or I’ll peel the flesh of your body,” he hisses, bringing two more tentacles closer to your face. You scream louder and squeeze your eyes shut at the sight of the knives.

“Your choice. Spiderman you better come out! Before your little classmate becomes fresh meat,” he grins maniacally.

“Hey loser! I’m over here!” Someone shouts from behind him, dressed in red and blue. Spiderman swings around him, wrapping the legs with webs and tightening it, causing Dr. Otto’s machine to lose balance. You both fall and you brace for impact, but it never comes and you’re caught by Spiderman as he swings you both to the other side of the campus.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, as he sets you down and you look at him in shock.

“You-You’re, s-spiderman-“

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m just your friendly neighborhood spiderman,” he says, before looking behind him, “I gotta go, but please be safe! Don't want pretty girls like you in danger!”

Before you can say another word, he swings away to fight the villain.

-

You’re in love with him.

No not Mark, I mean, yes you love Mark, but now you’re in love with Spiderman too. Currently in your dorm watching the news and seeing your newfound crush beat that mechanical octopus’ ass. After he rescued you, he broke off most of his arms, before finally tying him up and sending him off to the police. Swooning as he is freeze framed on the tv, you grin like a little schoolgirl. You’ve never had a thing for superheroes, maybe Thor if any, but to have one actually save you? You could get married to him right then and there.

Loud knocking is heard at your door and you turn off the tv, walking towards it. You’re greeted with a sweaty looking Mark, staring at you in concern, “Are you okay? I heard that monster thing got you?!”

“I’m fine, I got saved,” you smile at the memory of your new found love.

“By who?” Mark raises his eyebrows slightly.

“Spiderman,” you giggle lightly, but it causes you to wince in pain.

“Are you okay?! Let’s sit down,” he helps you move to your bed, “What happened?”

“That stupid octopussy tried to hurt Jisoo so I pushed her away and he snatched me instead,” you hold your stomach, too busy swooning over Spiderman to realize you were in actual pain.

“You saved Jisoo..? Wow,” you look at him confused as he stares at you in awe before he stands up, grabbing an ice pack from the mini-fridge you have, “I mean, is she okay?”

“Yeah, went home today though, needed to be with her family.”

“Understandable,” he nods, giving you the ice pack along with some water, “so Spiderman huh?” he says coolly, drinking some water himself.

“Yeah.. he’s pretty cool,” you say dreamily, “I.. I think I’m in love with him.”

Mark chokes on his water and starts coughing uncontrollably. “Mark oh my god, breathe,” you pat his back and he shakes his head, trying gain his breath.

“I’m okay, I’m just-“ he says in a strained voice, before finally composing himself, “you love him?”

“Well he saved my life, there’s just something really, sexy about that,” you say, grinning.

Mark stares at you with wide eyes and mouth dropped which makes you laugh and you wince again. “Careful,” he warns, trying to keep composure, “y-you really love him?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m probably never going to see him ever again,” you sigh, swinging your feet on your bed, “but if he ever asked me to have one night, just one hot, sweaty, and wet night together.. I’d let him do me all night.”

Mark stands up abruptly, placing his cup on your nightstand before walking to the door, “Alright! Well I gotta go do, uh, homework, I’m glad you’re okay-“ he looks at the floor with a blush on his cheeks and opens the door—face smacking against the doorframe, before finally walking out, “sorry b-bye!”

-

The university shuts down classes for a month to give students time to alleviate any trauma, but mainly to fix the campus back up. And in the last two weeks, you’ve been thinking about your spider boo, as Jisoo calls him, who doesn’t knock on your window at night like you had hoped. Instead you spend your nights with Mark in your dorm, watching 80’s movies back to back on your laptop. Tonight is just the same as the rest.

“God I wish I went to high school in the 80s,” you sigh, munching on some popcorn.

“Why?” Mark laughs, “high school would’ve sucked.”

“Well it did suck for some of us, ‘Mr. Everyone likes me,’” you scrunch your nose at him, “it wasn’t that fun for me.”

“Not everyone liked me, you didn’t like me,” he chuckles, throwing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course I did, I had such a huge crush on you-“ the words fall out of your mouth before you can realize and once it’s out, Mark isn’t laughing anymore.

“What?” He whispers.

“N-Nothing,” you attempt to save your dignity and the friendship you’ve built with him.

“You liked me?” He sits up, staring directly at you now. Your eyes stay on the screen, wishing your bed could swallow you whole at that very moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark asks, clearly frustrated.

“Because it didn’t matter,” you mutter and he scoffs, standing up at your words.

“Of course it matters! Y/n, why didn’t you tell me!” He says loudly, and you look at him in shock.

“No it didn’t, you’re Mark Lee, you were every girl’s teenage dream! Everyone liked you because you were so cool and smart! You didn’t even know I existed,” You finally let out, “besides you were always dating someone — how was I supposed to tell you?”

“By talking to me? God y/n, you act like I was going to be disgusted by you or something!” He says loudly, trying not to yell.

“Because I thought you were! Mark don’t you get it? You’re this great, handsome guy that is way out of my league, you’re too good for me, always have been, always will! I’m a nobody, okay? You’re supposed to be with someone like Gwen.. not me,” you yell, and surprisingly Mark’s eyes soften. You always expected him to yell and tell you to never talk to him ever, that he is actually disgusted by you and never wants to see you again.. but he doesn’t.

“Y/N,” he sighs before taking a deep breath, “I love you, okay?”

“Mark don’t lie-“

“I’m being serious! You think I never noticed you in high school? Y/n, you were all I could think about then, I wanted to talk to you so badly and ask you out but whenever I had the chance, you’d scatter like I was a disease! I figured you didn’t like me so I dated other people to get over you,” he confesses, pulling at his hair in frustration, “then I saw you here again and I realized that I can’t get over you, because I love you.”

“You’re lying.. you don’t mean it, you’re just being nice,” you stammer, shaking your head as tears flood your eyes, “how can you love me? you’re Mark Lee-“

“You keep saying that, but this Mark Lee loves you.. so just let me love you,” he says, grabbing your cheek to wipe away your flowing tears.

“Why? Why do you love me? I’m not like the girls you’ve dated,” you whisper, and he gives you a smile.

“I only dated them to get over you,” he pulls you to the edge of the bed to keep you close, “I dated them, but I only love you.”

“Mark?” “Yeah?”

“Please kiss me,” you finally say, staring at his bright eyes up close for the first time ever.

He smiles and leans down, capturing your lips in a longing kiss. The kiss is everything you hoped it would be and more. His lips are as soft as his hands that hold your hips perfectly, his mouth moves smoothly against your own and he’s just as amazing as you always knew he’d be.

You make the bold move of moving backwards on your bed so he can climb over you in the midst of the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lays snug on top of you.

His mouth moves skillfully on your own and you run your hands through his hair in delight. Unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing his groin close to your heat. The kiss turns needier and his hands run from your hip to your thigh, gripping it. Licking his bottom lip with your tongue, he opens his mouth and welcomes it with his. Your mouths move faster, as you both are clearly turned on and the atmosphere is getting hotter.

Lifting your hips up, you grind against his hard-on, eliciting a shocked moan from Mark. You repeat the motion before he catches on, moving his hips into yours as well. His hard-on flicking deliciously against your centre. Breaking away from his mouth, you moan softly when he hits your clit exactly. He keeps doing it, kissing down your neck.

You’re so close but you know it isn’t enough to get you there, so you push him off softly onto the bed. “I’m sorry, did I do something?-“

“Shh, Mark, I just wanna suck you off,” you whisper, unbuckling his belt. His eyes blink wide repeatedly, and he nods, helping you pull down his pants. His dick is straining painfully against his dark briefs and you palm him softly, before pulling them down his legs.

“And you have a pretty dick too? Mark Lee you’re not fair,” you hum, leaning down to lick his tip. He’s long, not necessarily thick but big enough to have your panties soak further at the sight. A nice red tip and shaved, not a single hair on his pelvis.

Swirling your tongue around his tip, you look up at his reaction as your mouth envelopes around his length. You move softly at first, enjoying every moan that comes from his lips. “F-Fuck, I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he stutters, throwing his head back.

You giggle and start to bob your head faster, gaining a rhythm that has him twitching underneath you. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking close already,” he groans, his hands gripping your hair in his fingers, “oh god, I’m gonna cum if you keep-“

This only makes you go harder, dropping your mouth as far as you can go and swallowing at his tip. “Holy shit, fuck fuck fuck, I can’t hold it-I’m gonna cum-“ you feel it hit the back of your throat, streams of warmth flooding your mouth. Mark stutters, hips twitching before he calms down, releasing his grip in your hair.

You wipe at your mouth with a small smile and he looks at you in disbelief, “you literally made me come in two minutes.”

“Think you can do the same for me?” You say coyly and he grins, pushing you on the bed this time. He pulls your soft cotton shorts down your legs to show off your bare womanhood, and he groans at the sight. “So this whole time you’ve been wearing no panties beside me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to say something before he leans down and licks a stripe up for center, making your shutter. Holding your legs apart, he eats you out softly, carefully and taking his time. You softly mewl at the feeling, grabbing his hair. “I need your fingers, please,” you beg, feeling your high so close.

He licks one of his long fingers before rubbing it on your clit, dragging it down and pushing it in slowly. He mouths at you again while simultaneously fingering you, making your legs tremble in pleasure.

“Oh Mark,” you moan, “yes right there.”

“You’re so hot like this,” he mumbles into your clit, “I’ve wanted you here, like this, for such a long time.”

He wastes no time moving his finger quicker, mouthing at your pussy like a starved man and your toes curl, as you near your high.

“I’m gonna-“ you gasp, holding on to his hair when he pushes another finger in, fucking you hard with them. “Shit, shit, fuck-“ Your back arches off your bed and your legs grip around his head as you come, body finally relaxing after a few moments.

When you finally look at Mark, he’s staring at you in awe, mouth glistening with your arousal and chest huffing to catch his breath. It’s a beautiful sight to see and you give anything to see him just like this forever. Pulling him in for a kiss, you taste yourself on his tongue but you don’t mind it, enjoying his lips on yours instead.

He pulls away after a few moments and sighs happily, “I can die a happy man now,” he grins, pulling you beside him to cuddle and you giggle, but that only lasts a moment before you begin to wonder what will happen now. Does this mean you’re a couple? Was this just a bit of fun for him?

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up, “what’s with the frown pretty girl?”

“I’m just thinking.. what does this mean?” You find the courage to say, “are we a thing now?”

“Y/n.. you've always been my girl, just took awhile for you to finally realize,” he kisses your forehead. The action brings warmth to your heart and you lay your head on his chest, finally closing your eyes and letting them rest for the night.

The next morning, the sunlight from outside shines through your room and hits you directly in the face, waking you up after a few moments. You move away and blink repeatedly, adjusting your eyes to the light before looking beside you, with an empty spot. Sitting up, you look around the room and there is no trace of Mark anywhere, not a note not his clothes, absolutely nothing.

Quickly checking your phone, you’re only met with social media notifications and no messages or calls from Mark as usual. It takes a moment for you to realize what this means before it finally settles in, and tears flood your eyes in anger.

“Fuck you Mark Lee!” You yell out, throwing your phone across the room, “stupid, stupid, stupid!”

You collapse back into bed and cry your heart out. Of course he didn’t mean what he said, of course he doesn’t want you. What did you expect? He’s Mark Lee! Guys like him don’t fall for girls like you. You were so stupid to believe him, that he could actually love someone like you. All he wanted was to get his dick wet and that’s it.

You were so stupid.

The days following you’re either in your room crying all night or attending your morning classes. He hasn’t contacted you yet, not even a stupid ‘sorry’ text to make himself feel better. As if he even feels bad.

At least Jisoo is finally back, and when she finds that Mark has broken your heart, she is on a rampage to kill him. “How could he do this to you?! That little shit!” Were her exact words before she consoled you and cancelled her dick appointment that night to have a girl’s night with you.

You try your best to avoid Mark on campus, always surveilling the area before walking somewhere because you can’t deal with seeing him just yet. Though it seems like he’s doing the same, because you never catch him walking around and it’s as if he’s gone off the face of the earth. Good, as he should.

Sadly enough, classes are back in session and now you have chapters to catch up on that you’ve missed since the incident. So you’re in the library once again, trying to get ready for finals like everyone else in the room. Normally you’d study with Mark and he’d give you tips or make studying fun with his lame jokes.

“Did you hear what happened to Spiderman?” Another student beside you whispers to his friend.

“Yeah I heard, my mom says the neighborhood has gotten dangerous since he disappeared,” the other student tells them, “too bad, wonder what happened?”

“I heard the Avengers got sent on a mission and some got stuck behind, there's a video on YouTube,” the guy tsks, “hope he’s not dead.”

The other person mumbles in agreement and you stop listening to their conversation at that point. Poor Spiderman, the only real good man in New York, now gone. Just your luck huh? Both of your love life’s basically non existing now. Placing your headphones back in, you play some music to focus back on your work.

That night, you’re waiting for Jisoo to get back from the convenience store with your snacks to watch some cheesy chick flick that she has been begging you to watch. The movie is all set up on your computer and you’re in your comfy pjs with fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm. Scrolling through your phone while you wait, there is a quick knock on your door, signaling that Jisoo’s back. “Did you get the-“ you open the door and stop mid sentence when you’re greeted by Mark Lee instead of your roommate. He looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles and the same clothes he was wearing the night he used you. His hair is shaggier like he hasn’t cut it and there’s a shadow on his upper lip.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss and he looks hurt, but not surprised.

“Y/n, please listen to me, I know you’re mad but I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that-“

“Oh really? You didn’t mean to hurt me? Didn’t mean to get yourself off and then pretend like it never happened?”

“No that’s not what it was-“ “Then what? You were just feeling horny and thought you could use me? That you could come here weeks later and I’d forgive you?”

“Y/n, please, let me explain. I love you, I really do-“

You cut him off once again, “Don’t. Don’t you ever say that to me again. You’re a piece of shit Mark, I really cared about you and I thought you were nice. But now I finally realize who you are, you’re too cool for me, you could never like me the same way. I get who you are now, because you’re Mark Lee,” you say all in one breath, before slamming the door on his fake ‘broken’ looking face.

As soon as the door shuts, you fall to ground and let out the hurt tears immediately. You can still hear him outside your door, begging you to open up and let him explain but you don’t care if he hears you cry, because you don’t give a shit anymore. For years you’ve loved the kid and he’s nothing like you imagined. You should’ve just listened to yourself from the beginning and just stayed away. Oh, how you wish you had listened, because now your high school crush has become your college heartbreak.

It takes him a while to leave and for you to collect yourself and Jisoo finally walks in with the bag of goodies in her hand, that she drops, once she sees you as a mopping mess on the floor. You cry all night again and the cringey movie is forgotten all about.

-

The next day, you don’t leave your room at all, missing all of your morning classes because you're too depressed to get out of bed. Your nose is stuffy and eyes are puffy so you figured you’d save the world from looking at you, a sad mess. You try to distract yourself with some tv, but even that reminds of you Mark. So you opt for the news, and thankfully it’s reported that the remaining lost Avengers are back and safe. It’s the only thing that brings a smile on your face that day, because at least one of your lost loves hasn’t disappointed you.

It doesn’t keep you happy for long though, as the hours go by and you’re still all alone in bed. You attempt to do some homework on your laptop that night and copy notes of today’s class from one of your classmates via screenshot.

You’re in the middle of a paragraph when you hear light tapping on your window and freeze. The tapping continues and you’re confused, because you’re on the top floor. So who the hell is out there?

Sitting up, you pull the curtain back to see a familiar red and blue mask looking at you. Gasping, you open the window for him. “Can I come in?” Spiderman asks, holding himself on a web with ease. You nod slowly and scoot aside to give him room. He climbs in and looks around your dorm.

“Cute room,” he says and turns back to you but you’re still gaping at him.

“How do you- How did you find me?” you stutter and he chuckles lightly.

“I have my ways, just came by to check on the cute girl I rescued a while ago,” he flirts, causing you to blush. Holy shit! Spiderman is in your room! Flirting with you!

“Are you okay? I heard you were trapped?” You ask him, trying to keep your cool.

“Yeah but I'm okay, got out of there alive so,” he laughs awkwardly, and suddenly you get a sense of familiarity from him, “whatcha doing?”

“Notes, missed class today,” you say, and he tsks.

“How come?” He turns his mask covered head to the side in question.

“Didn’t feel well, stress, some problems I’m having,” you say sadly, but give him a fake smile to cover it, “no biggie.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Spiderman, are you telling me you snuck into my room at 12am to talk about my life problems?” You joke, giving him a real smile this time.

“Hey, problems are problems, even if they're not life or death, I’m still here for everyone.”

“It’s nothing, I’m just stupid sometimes,” you shake your head, “I thought this boy liked me but guess I wasn’t good enough. I should’ve known, my fault.”

“How do you know he doesn’t like you? Did he say he didn’t?”

“Well no but he hurt me, he ignored me for a long time and pretended like I didn’t exist,” you retort and he nods.

��Did you let him explain why? Maybe he had a good reason.” He defends, and you give him a slight frown.

“Who’s side are you on?” You tilt your head, “I hope you’re on mine, I mean he broke my heart. I cried for days over him, he lied to me and told me that he loves me but ignores me? What’s there to explain?”

Spiderman looks down at his lap for a moment before standing up and pacing around the room.

“Y/n,” he says, finally turning to you, “he is sorry, he wants to tell you what happened, but if you would just let him explain. He didn’t want to leave you that night, he wasn’t going to until there was an emergency.”

“Huh? How do you know he left?” You ask him, puzzled, “did Mark put you up to this?”

“No gosh, Y/n,” he groans before shaking his head, “I am Mark.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense? How can you be Mark? You’re Spiderman!”

He doesn’t answer but takes a deep breath, before lifting his mask and revealing his identity. Truth be told, Mark is behind it with a nervous look on his face and your eyes widen.

“Mark! Oh my god,” you blink repeatedly, “you’re actually him?”

“I am, I was going to tell you after that night but then,” he winces at the memory, “I had to leave, I was supposed to come back before you even woke up but some of us were stranded in another galaxy.”

“So you didn’t leave on purpose? You were gonna come back?”

He nods, “I’m really sorry y/n, if I had known I’d be gone for so long I would’ve told you.”

The room is quiet for a few moments and Mark is standing there unsure if you believe him and if you’re going to kick him out again.

“Mark,” you whisper, instantly running towards him to hug him. He sighs in relief, holding you tightly. His body starts to shake like he’s scared that if he lets you go, you’ll leave.

“I’m sorry Mark,” you mumble into his suit with wet tears, “I should’ve let you explain.”

“It’s okay,” he rubs your back, “we’re okay now, I’m never leaving you again.”

You hold each other for a long time, swaying a bit as you wipe your tears. He lifts your chin and kisses you softly on the mouth, then your nose and cheeks.

“So you saved me that day?” You ask and he nods shyly. “So you were my hero? That’s pretty hot.”

“It was nothing really,” he blushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Remember what I told you that night?”

“What?” He asks as you stare at him coyly before realizing what you meant, “oh, oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you kiss his cheek, then his lips softly, before going down his strong jaw and neck. Suckling on the supple skin, you give him a love bite, proudly claiming him as yours. He moans at the feeling, before bringing your mouth to his again. Your arms wrap around his neck and his roam down your body until they reach your legs. He lifts them, wrapping them around his waist with ease like you weigh as much as a feather and takes you towards your bed.

You lay back and his kisses go down your neck. His hands cup one of your breasts through your shirt, and he feels the peaks as you’re not wearing a bra.

Mark breaks away from your mouth for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, before sucking on one of your nipples. He holds the other in his hand, moving in circular motions. You hum in delight and he smiles, kissing down your tummy. You know what his next move is but you stop his hands from reaching your waistband. “Wait Mark,” you mumble, bringing him back up to meet your lips, “I can’t wait anymore, I really want you inside of me.”

“O-Oh, yeah, sure,” his eyes widened and Mark stands up, tapping on his chest to release his suit, falling to his knees. He trips on the material as he tries to get out of it, causing a laugh to come from you. “Sorry, sorry!”

Finally when he’s all composed, he towers over you, “hi,” he says shyly and you giggle.

“God I love you,” you smile and he says it back, kissing you once more.

Your bottoms come off along with his and he hisses when your wet lips come in contact with the tip of dick. “Do you have, uh, a condom?”

You shake your head, “no but I’m clean, and on birth control.”

“Oh thank god,” he whispers and slides his tip between your lower lips, collecting your arousal for lubrication. Finally, he pushes in and pulls out halfway to get you used to his size. “Please Mark,” you raise your hips and his dick pushes all the way in.

“Oh my, fuck,” Mark groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he bottoms out, “you’re so tight.” He starts a pace, moving faster with every thrust until he has you a mess underneath him.

“Yes just like that,” you moan, watching where your bodies meet. You feel so full, better than you ever have before and he fits inside of you perfectly, hitting all the spots that have you seeing stars.

His movements never falter and you’d like to thank his superhero strength for it. “I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding onto his forearms.

And as if he couldn’t move any faster, he does and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Come for me baby,” he tells you, his voice deeper than usual. It’s all it takes for you to get to your high, scratching down his back as your body shakes.

He slows his thrusts so you can catch your breath. You take whatever strength you have left to push Mark on to the bed, straddling his waist. Putting him back in, you move your hips up and down slowly, watching his reaction. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, sweat cascading down his body and his soft hair is sticking in different places. He looks so sexy and it only encourages you further to ride him harder.

“You have no idea how long–oh fuck,” he groans when you swivel your hips, “how long I’ve dreamt of you riding me like this.”

You continue to move up and down, back and forth until he’s gripping your hips harshly, so sure enough there will be marks in the morning. Mark is a complete mess at your touch, muttering praises and groans into the air. You’re so close again already but you want to make him feel good, so you tighten yourself around him.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, throwing his head back, “keep riding me just like that.” You lift your hips higher and move harder on his cock until he’s crying out your name with a curse.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, filling you with streams of his warm arousal.

Mark shutters under you until he’s completely soft and you lift off of him. His come runs down your thigh and he quickly grabs a tissue from your nightstand to clean you up. Wiping himself down, he tosses it in your trash bin before giving you a shy smile. You both climb into your bed and under the sheets to enjoy a bit of cuddling and pillow talk.

Hours go by before you know it, and you snuggle into his neck tiredly. “Mm, ‘missed you,” Mark mumbles, keeping you close to him.

“I missed you too,” you smile, “missed spiderman too.”

“Yeah? You still in love with him?” he looks at you and jokes.

“Mm, not really,” you shake your head and Mark furrows his brows, “I’m in love with you, the nerdy and goofy version of you.”

“Doesn’t sound very cool,” he scrunches his nose.

“Yeah, well, who do you prefer? Spiderman, the one who has to fight crime all day? Or Mark Lee, the one I get to ride everyday now?” You kiss his neck and he shivers at your words.

“Mark Lee sounds pretty cool now I think about it,” he mumbles.

“Really now? Well then you better come here, bugboy,” you whisper, bringing him in for another kiss.

His phone buzzes loudly, breaking the kiss and he reaches over. Reading the text, Mark gives you a look of worry but you shake your head.

“Go get ‘em Spiderman,” you smile proudly and he kisses you sweetly. Getting his suit back on, he slips his mask over his face, “I’ll be back this time, I promise!”

“Good, I love you Mark.”

“I love you too,” he tells you lovingly, before opening your window and jumping out smoothly.

Who would’ve thought your high school crush would be your college boyfriend? And a hot fricking superhero!

-

a/n: thank u god for mark lee and spiderman

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 5: I’ve Lived The Life And Paid For Every Crime]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Some Kind Of Disaster by All Time Low.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to drugs and violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @loveandbeloved29​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Easy Questions, Evasive Answers

“So it was nothing,” Archer said, glancing up from where he was tinkering around beneath the hood of my 1999 Honda Accord, checking hoses and belts and dipsticks. “This is pathetic, by the way. That you can’t change your own windshield wiper fluid. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cow.”

“I never had my own car in Phoenix!” I objected around a mouthful of a Starbucks pumpkin muffin, my first of the season. And that was true: Renee and I couldn’t afford one. “I didn’t have to learn about car things!”

“No, it’s great, I love it, I have a customer for life.”

“It was totally nothing,” I told him. Meaning the photograph in the newspaper article from 1979. Meaning my paranoia surrounding beautiful, brooding, certifiably lethal Benjamin Lee.

Not Lee, I reminded myself. Benjamin August Hardy, born November 3rd 1893.

“Was it really?” Archer asked, skeptical.

“Uhhh, you were the one who was making fun of me for thinking he might be a time traveler. Or a bigfoot.” Or a vampire.

“Yeah, okay, true...” He let the hood of the Honda fall shut with a bang, then wiped the muddy streaks of motor oil from his hands with a stained rag. “But you were freaked out. Like super freaked out.”

“I was, yeah. But it wasn’t him in the photo. I took another look, there were freckles and, uh, like, uh, some other things that didn’t match up.”

“Huh.” Archer watched me with an expression I couldn’t read. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Ben laughed about it. Probably thinks I’m an idiot. A stalker and an idiot.”

Archer smirked slyly. “He must not have held it against you too much. I’ve never seen that guy laugh in my life.”

I took a moody bite of my muffin, rolled my eyes, feigned shallow schoolgirl angst. “Trust me, he’s not my biggest fan.”

“Ohhhh, and this bothers you?” Archer sauntered over and stole a crumbling hunk out of the pumpkin muffin. “Does someone have a little crush on the gorgeous, grouchiest Lee?”

“Definitely not.” I sipped my chai latte, contemplative, debating telling him more.

“Uh oh. There’s something else, I can see it. Spill the tea, you walking college-chick-who’s-obsessed-with-fall stereotype.”

“I’m so excited! I’m going to get to see changing leaves this year!” Cacti are majestic, ancient, intrepid, and they remind me of home; but they never change. They’re like desert earth that way, like the ocean. Like vampires, actually.

“We’ll have to do all the Instagram-worthy stuff. Pumpkin patches. Hay mazes. Apple picking...you can even bring that Ben guy if you want to. If he promises not to murder me with his mysterious time-travelling demon powers.”

Oh, kid, you have no idea. “So...I am kind of into a Lee guy. But it’s not Ben.”

Archer gasped, inhaled pumpkin muffin morsels, bent over as he hacked them out of his lungs. “Who?!” he rasped, scandalized, and then coughed again.

I couldn’t help but smile as his name spilled out: “Joe.”

“Which one is that? The Middle Eastern Men’s Vogue model one?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, not Rami. He has a girlfriend, by the way.” And has for the past half a century.

Archer wiggled his eyebrows. “Just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t score.”

“Oh my god, please never say that phrase again.”

“Joe is the...” He closed his eyes as he drummed his fingers against the metal workbench, trying to remember.

“The Italian one,” I finished for him.

“Ahhh. The annoying one.”

“He is not annoying! Why do people keep saying he’s annoying?! He’s hilarious, and sweet, and lowkey wicked smart, and, and, and...”

Archer whistled, grinning, his dark eyes sparkling. “Damn, girl. You do like him. You really like him.”

I sighed in defeat. “Okay. I really, really like him.”

“Like him as in would swipe right on Tinder, or like him as in you want to get married and honeymoon in Hawaii and have twelve pasty, angular babies?”

“Oh wow.” And for the first time, I was confronted with the singular enigma that was a future with Joe. Vampires had relationships with other vampires, obviously, even marriages; but that didn’t mean the same rules applied to humans. Did he like me? Could he like me? What would that even look like? How would it end? And it would have to end, of course, eventually. Unless somehow I stopped aging too. “More than just a right swipe. We’ll see about the twelve kids.”

“Just make sure he wraps it before he taps it. I’m too young to be an uncle.”

“Stop,” I pleaded, gulping down my latte, averting my gaze across Archer’s small garage filled with customers’ vehicles, pretending not to be intrigued and yearning and petrified. I couldn’t imagine hooking up with someone as faultless and—presumably—experienced as Joe and being anything but a disappointment. I’ve never hooked up with anyone. At all. Ever.

“What?” he asked, concerned, thieving another piece of my pumpkin muffin. Powdered sugar dusted his fingers like the snow I’ve only seen two or three times in my life.

“Nothing. I just really wish you went to Calawah too.”

“And give up all this easy money from clueless suburbs people like you?” Archer beamed, wily and proud and affectionate. “Not a fucking chance.”

No More Sad Spaghetti

Joe gawked in horror, chomping noisily on his Big League Chew bubblegum, as I unwrapped the peanut butter sandwich I’d packed for lunch. It was mostly cloudy in the early September sky overhead, but he was still wearing sunglasses. He had traded in his ubiquitous U Chicago apparel for a Cubs t-shirt. Squirrels scurried through the bigleaf maple trees that dotted the campus, snatching up acorns with tiny clawed paws, wriggling whiskered noses in our direction.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, taking a bite. “It’s not sad spaghetti.”

He blew a small pink bubble, then popped it with his teeth. “Yeah, but it’s...like...mangled.”

“It got trapped between my textbooks!” I protested. Admittedly, the accordion-shaped peanut butter sandwich—my vegetarian alternative to fishstick Thursday—kind of sucked.

“You can’t eat that. Oh my god. It’s making me so sad. Give it to the squirrels.” Joe pulled out his iPhone. “What’s your preferred pizza topping?”

“I can’t tell you,” I replied, tossing my sandwich towards the nearest tree. A hoard of squirrels immediately descended upon it and proceeded to battle for dominance, emitting shrill, peanut-butter-crazed shrieks.

His brow furrowed. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you might not like me anymore.”

“Why would I not like you because of pizza...?” And then he knew. “Oh no, oh god, please don’t say pineapple.”

“I’m a pineapple pizza person.”

“Baby Swan,” Joe said, deadly serious, pressing his palms together. “That is straight up sacrilegious. You can’t put tropical fruit on a pizza. You realize I’m Italian, like an actual Italian. I’m so Italian I’ve killed other Italians for being the wrong kind of Italian. That’s how Italian I am.”

“I feel like maybe I shouldn’t socialize with literal mobsters. It’s unsavory.”

“Settle down, I’m ordering the half-pineapple pizza, you freaking barbarian.”

I watched Joe as he tapped his thumbs against the screen, humming to himself, amused, perpetually buoyant. And I couldn’t picture him as a monster, as a killer: pulling triggers, slitting throats, digging blades into soft vulnerable love handles, feeling for the mortal puncture of a lung or kidney. I asked him, my voice quiet, hesitant, almost lost in the autumn wind: “Did you actually hurt people?”

“Nah. I didn’t have the stomach for it, even back then. I was on the deal-making side of things. The business side. I was a people person, a smooth talker, astronomically charming.”

I smiled, mischievous. “That’s difficult to imagine.”

“Okay, so no cheesy breadsticks for you.”

“I’m sorry, mob guy. Please order the breadsticks. You’re so charming I can’t stand it. My jeans are unzipping all by themselves.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So you’ll sacrifice your dignity for breadsticks. Good to know.” He finished typing and laid his iPhone on the grass. “Alright, next question.”

“Does your hair grow?” Joe’s hair—I couldn’t help but notice—seemed longer than it was the day I met him a week and a half ago, disorderly and auburn-tinted, ruffling in the breeze.

“It does, yeah. Hair and nails still grow. So you have to shave, but you can’t get razor burn. And any nicks close right up.”

“Very cool. How often do you need to eat? You know...actually eat.”

“It varies, but generally twice a week.”

“And what kind of animal has the tastiest blood? Besides...well...” I gestured towards myself. “The upright two-legged kind with opposable thumbs and a partiality for pineapple pizza.”

He blew another bubble, then leaned in towards me. And I realized, for the first time, that he had his own inherent, exclusive, totally Bath-And-Body-Works-worthy scent as well; Dr. Gwilym Lee was sandalwood and campfires and log cabins, Mercy was roses and vanilla...and Joe was pine trees, peppermint, cold night air, like all of that eternally youthful magic of Christmas Eve sieved into a bottle. I popped the sheer pink bubble with the cap of my blue pen. Joe asked: “Do humans like chocolate or vanilla ice cream? Coffee or tea? Baseball or something hella lame?”

“Depends on the human.”

“Exactly. Same deal for vampires. I prefer bears, especially grizzlies. Lucy and Mercy like deer, elk, moose, animals like that. Ones with hooves. Weirdly, Rami’s favorite is crocodile, I think because it was the first thing he ever tried in Egypt. He doesn’t get it very often, but has been known to buy them on the black market on occasion. Scarlett likes mountain lions. Also domestic cats, but you didn’t hear that from me. Gwil is a wolf guy, but he won’t kill the endangered kinds. Such a gentleman.”

“How about Ben?”

“Ben’s still coming around to the whole eating animals thing. I don’t think he has a favorite yet.”

Joe isn’t a killer, and he never was; I could believe that. But Ben... “Why is he so different than the rest of you?”

“That’s...kind of a long story,” Joe replied carefully.

“It wouldn’t be such a long story if people stopped talking about how it’s a long story and actually told it to me.”

He flashed a grin, revealing white canine teeth filed into points; they were subtle, yes, but they were there. Fangs. I envisioned pressing a fingerprint against them and feeling the flesh split in two, the blood dripping down onto his tongue like Washington rain. And unlike Joe’s skin, mine wouldn’t knit back together on its own. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of tormenting you with the prospect of incredibly juicy yet confidential information!”

I rolled my eyes, sipped my can of Diet Coke, returned my attention to our lunch plans. “So garlic doesn’t repel you. That part of the lore is completely made up.”

“Yup. Thank god. Eternal life would be worthless without pizza.”

“Can you do drugs? Get drunk?”

“We can’t overdose, but we can get the effects of anything we consume. It’s not a good habit to get into though. If you’re nodding on heroin for like four days at a time, it’s pretty easy for some other vampire to find and murder you.”

“So a vampire can be killed by another vampire.”

“Absolutely. Next question.”

I consulted my mental list. “Do you sleep?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. We nap for a few hours a day.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“We get bitchy. Really bitchy. We essentially turn into Ben.”

I laughed, chewing absentmindedly on the end of my pen. “So that’s his problem. He hasn’t napped in a century. Now it all makes sense.”

“Something like that,” Joe said. “You gonna come over tonight?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to present The Walruses And Me tomorrow and I still haven’t started the book.”

“What do you know, I can tell you all about The Walruses And Me!”

“Seriously? You’ve read it?”

“No, but I can enthusiastically narrate the Wikipedia article to you while you pet Mercy’s alpacas.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Terrible for your grade in Marine Mammals. Good for your development as an interesting and happy human.”

“Nice try, but I’m already both of those things.”

Joe reached out suddenly, jarringly, and ran the back of his hand across my cheek. My favorite Lee, I thought, thoroughly transfixed but trying to hide it. Oh no. “Interesting, definitely. But I have this gnawing, distressing suspicion that you’re still working on the happy part.”

“I miss the desert,” I confessed. That wasn’t quite all of the problem, but it was accurate: I missed the heat, the sun, the parched prehistoric air I had always called home. Although I was beginning to find reasons to like Forks, Charlie and Archer and the promise of a Pacific Northwestern autumn; and then one big reason in particular. A very old, pale, chatty, Italian reason.

“A bit of a quandary for a future marine biologist,” he replied gently, perhaps apprehensively.

“I always figured I’d live somewhere like San Diego or Los Angeles or Galveston. Someplace on the ocean, but also sunny and hot and with palm trees. The best of both worlds. But you couldn’t go there with me, could you?”

Oh no.

Oh NO.

Oh fuck, this is definitely a crushing-on-Lee-boys zone.

Joe stared at me through his sunglasses, chomping on his Big League Chew, the corners of his mouth turned up and etching lines like parentheses into his face, pleased and nodding slowly and triumphant somehow. Then he struck out his hand again, this time with his pinky raised like a flagpole. “No more pathetic depressing lunches.”

“You got it. No more sad spaghetti. No more sad peanut butter sandwiches. You have my solemn, human vow.”

He smiled as his pinky entwined with mine. “No more sad anything.”

“So this vampire thing sounds like a pretty sweet gig. No dying, no consequences for a hellacious diet or wild condomless orgies, literal superpowers, perfect hair...why doesn’t everyone get to live that way?”

He shrugged; and there was an unfamiliar, meditative tension in his face. Almost sorrow. “It’s not all pizza and orgies and heroin. We have weaknesses too.”

“Like what?”

“Hey, look!” Joe piped cheerfully, twisting around towards the parking lot. “I think our GrubHub guy is here.”

Bad Blood

I was definitely regretting that fourth slice of pineapple pizza as I waddled into Chemistry, navigating sluggishly around the hulking frat boys and giggling sorority girls and mousy bookish types who lugged around colossal backpacks that were always threatening to knock an unsuspecting passerby off their feet at each unthinking turn. But while I was arriving in the classroom—physically, anyway; emotionally I was standing in an empty field somewhere screaming I cannot be falling in love with a hundred-year-old mobster vampire!! into the void—Ben was a countercurrent darting through the crowds and towards the hallway door.

“Where are you rushing off to, old guy?” I asked him. “Bingo? To renew your AARP membership? To walk vigorously around the inside of a mall?”

Ben responded in that deep, low, humorless voice. “They’re doing some kind of blood typing experiment today. I probably shouldn’t be around for that.”

“Oh.” I glanced over at Professor Belvin, who was indeed hunched over the table at the front of the classroom and laying out rows of Q-tips and rectangular paper cards and alcohol swabs and bottles of clear liquid, whistling what sounded like Time Of The Season.

Ben sighed irritably, rubbing his crinkled forehead. “I already used up all my absences. I’m gonna have to make up a compelling last-minute tragedy. Tell Professor Belvin my grandma died or something.”

“I mean, technically, she did at some point.”

“Ugh,” Ben replied, not consoled at all.

“Wait, I got this.”

I gripped my belly, sank into the nearest chair, and groaned dramatically. It really didn’t require all that much acting. Ben watched with huge green eyes, confounded.

“Miss Swan!” Professor Belvin cried, rushing over. He was wearing khaki pants, a white shirt, and suspenders and a matching bowtie patterned with bubbling multicolored test tubes. Belvin had been Charlie’s classmate from kindergarten through high school, and still palled around with him over Bud Lights and low-quality nachos on bowling league nights. Bowling was, evidently, the sport of choice for middle-aged Forks dads. Also for Welsh vampire pseudo-dads born in the 1400s.

I whimpered in reply.

“Are you alright, Miss Swan?” Professor Belvin asked worriedly. A few students had begun to congregate around the scene. I felt a pang of genuine nausea as perspiration beaded at my temples. You better appreciate this, Mr. Hardy.

“I’m okay,” I said, in my most pained and martyrish voice. “I don’t want to miss...today’s lesson...it looks so fascinating...but I didn’t wash my kale thoroughly last night and then I had a salad for dinner and now I might have food poisoning.”

“You poor thing!” Belvin exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about class. You can just answer some textbook questions or something, no problem. Please go get checked out to make sure you’re alright.”

“Could someone...maybe...help me get to the campus clinic...?” My eyes listed towards Ben. “Maybe...my lab partner?”

“That’s a good idea.” Professor Belvin turned to Ben. “Mr. Lee, would you be willing to escort Miss Swan to the clinic? You can do an alternative assignment as well. If you don’t mind missing the blood typing lab.”

“I’d be delighted to help,” Ben responded, still puzzled. I offered him my hand, and Ben took it, grimacing as he led me out into the hallway. As soon as we were alone, he dropped my hand and opened up several feet of space between us.

“Thanks so much, Miss Swan, you are a lifesaver,” I said, imitating his morose, rumbling British accent. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Ben. You can repay me in basic courteous conversation and Starbucks gift cards and by maybe not killing me.”

“So you’re totally fine?” Ben asked flatly.                

“Of course. Nobody with taste eats raw kale.”

Frowning, frustrated, he started puffing on his vape pen. “You need to stop doing nice things for me. It’s extremely disorienting.”

“This may be difficult for you to come to terms with, but you, Ben Hardy, are worth being the recipient of nice things.”                          

“No, you still don’t get it,” he snapped, grabbing my wrist, spinning me around to face him in the empty hallway. “That’s all I’ve ever done. Kill people like you.”

The Fire

“Who is the cutest little alpaca I’ve ever seen?!” I cooed in a squeaky falsetto, scratching her wooly brown chin. “Who’s going to come home and live with me and Charlie forever?!”

“That’s illegal, ma’am.” Joe was watching me, arms crossed over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, smiling wistfully.

“It is not!”

“It actually is,” Rami added. He was lying on the grass and gazing up into the roiling, grey, late-afternoon clouds with his fingers laced behind his black hair. None of the Lees were wearing sunglasses now. “A house has to be zoned as farmland to have alpacas, which ours is. Yours, tragically, is not.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” I shot back.

Rami grinned. “I was once. And I will be again, in approximately...let me count...five years.”

“That’s what you want to do with your boundless time and energy? Be a corporate shill?”

Joe cackled. “He tried that already. It lasted about five minutes.”

“Manhattan in the 1980s,” Rami reminisced dreamily. “Hundred-hour workweeks. Cocaine everywhere. What a time to be alive. And I hardly ever left the office, so the sunlight thing wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, so you’re not in it for the Maseratis or the drugs...”

“I’m going to be an immigration attorney,” Rami told me. “Help refugees apply for asylum to come to the United States. Arabic-speaking refugees, in particular.”

“Wow. I stand corrected. That’s wonderful, Rami. I now feel like a total tool for only aspiring to save sea turtles.” But it made sense, of course. What would any good person spend eternity doing? Making the world just a tiny bit better. I glanced at Joe, teasing him. “And you just study how to get rich, huh?”

“I’m a venture capitalist,” he said brightly. “I invest in small businesses, counsel them, encourage them, connect them with other people in the industry, help them grow. And I don’t need the money, so I take a practically microscopic equity stake. I’m basically a professional charitable donor.”

“And you get to put all of those charming mob-guy skills to use.”

Joe winked. “Exactly.”

“Doesn’t it get old?” I asked both of them. “Being college students?”

Rami shrugged. “No really. The world changes, schools of thought evolve, our own interests fluctuate. Every few decades we circle back and go for another round, fresh degrees, maybe new professions entirely. You learn something new every time.”  

“And I’ve been waiting for all my old professors to die so I could go back to U Chicago for fifty years!” Joe shouted. “I’m fucking pumped!”

“But...don’t you already know everything...?”

Joe chuckled. “We’re vampires, Baby Swan, we’re not prodigies. We’re sharper than the average person, sure. But it still takes effort to learn. And we all have things we suck at.”

“Like not being obnoxious,” Rami said, nodding to Joe.

“Like not minding our own fucking business,” Joe hurled back.

“I cannot control the fact that I’m a literal mind reader—”

“You boys behave yourselves,” Mercy called in her relaxed, drawling Southern accent, swinging a basket of carrots and zucchinis and cabbages that she’d dug out of her garden, wearing a long flowing yellow dress and her hair tied up in a scarf. She plodded over in her bare feet, handed me a few carrots, then pointed to the chocolate-colored alpaca I was petting. “That lady there is Athens. And the black and white one by Joe is Augusta. Then there’s Norcross, and Alpharetta, and Savannah...and that real chubby grey one heading into the barn is Marietta.”

“I adore them,” I replied, beaming. Mercy had sheep and pigs and a couple of cows too, all ambling contently around the emerald green field as the first threads of fiery, rust-hued sunset were lighting up the horizon.

“We used to have ducks, too,” Mercy mused. “But they disappeared recently...”

Rami passed Joe a knowing smirk. Joe mouthed back menacingly: Do not.

“Hey mom,” Rami piped.

Joe jabbed an index finger at him. “No, don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare—”

“Joe ate the ducks.”

“You bitch!” Joe cried.

“Oh, Joseph,” Mercy sighed mournfully, lifting a brush out of her basket and dragging it down Athens’ fuzzy back.

“I’m sorry! It was one time! I was weak!”

“I’m not angry, sweetheart,” Mercy said. “I’m just disappointed.”

“Mom, that’s worse!”

Rami climbed to his feet and swatted grass and leaves off his cardigan sweater. “Alright folks. My work here is done. Peace out.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do a hit and run like that, hey, Rami, hey, hey, come back here!”

Joe trotted after him, shouting a litany of insults, as Rami laughed hysterically and careened into the house. Lucy and Gwil were in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies; Scarlett was in the garage changing the brakes on Ben’s Vantage; Ben was noticeably absent from the Lee household and presumably out hunting. It was remarkably easy to picture his fingers closing around bloodied flesh, a wolf’s or a bear’s or an elk’s, lowering his fangs to a pulsing jugular.

“So you’re really into this whole farming thing,” I said to Mercy, looking out over the field rimmed by towering western hemlock trees. I didn’t know exactly how many acres of land the Lees owned, but it was a lot. Mercy adopted rescue animals, donated vegetables from the garden to local food pantries, and occasionally rented out the barn as a wedding venue.

“I’ve always loved it. I had a farm, you know. Before I met Gwil.”

Before she died.

“I didn’t know that,” I murmured, wanting to learn more, afraid to ask, never meaning to pry or offend. “I remember you mentioned the Civil War, and a barn...being...well...being trapped in it. When it burned down.”

Mercy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s the polite version of the story, isn’t it?” She set down her basket in the tall grass, tugged distractedly at a dark strand of hair that had escaped her scarf, stared glassily out into the sunset muted with cloud cover as Athens moseyed away. “Do you want to know what happened? I’ll tell you if you do. But I don’t want to upset you, dear.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I’d like to know.”

“We had a little farm out in the middle of nowhere,” Mercy explained. “My husband Arthur and I.”

And it felt so outlandish to hear her say those words. Husband. She had a husband before Gwil. She had a whole life before this one.

“He had a bullet in one leg and a limp from a hunting accident when he was a boy, so he was never called up to enlist. It was a rich man’s war, but it was the poor men they sent to die in it. That’s how it always goes, I expect. And how it always will. We had two daughters, twelve and fifteen. I won’t tell you their names. Don’t take that personally, dear. I haven’t spoken their names in a hundred and fifty years.”

She turned her murky eyes—like homemade bread crust or coffee or the wood walls of a log cabin—to me.

“When the Union Army came through, they were beasts. Men like that...men who have been killing and looting and burning their way across hundreds of miles...all they want to do is get blood on their hands. That’s all they remember how to do. So that’s exactly what they did. They slaughtered our cattle for meat. They burned the house down. And then they took me and my girls, and they...they...well, you know what they did. What men do when they’re monsters. And when Arthur tried to stop them, they shot him in the chest and spit mouthfuls of chewing tobacco on him as he bled out in the dirt. Called him a coward and a deserter. Told him everything they were planning to do to me and my girls. And when they were done doing all of those things, they locked the three of us in the barn and set it ablaze. I was the only one still alive when Gwilym got there. And believe me, I didn’t want to be.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, my throat burning for Mercy, for her family, for this divinely kind and benign and tender woman.

She patted my cheek fondly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. I got a second chance. Gwilym gave me a second chance. That’s what he does, you know. He finds broken people, fixes them, loves them fiercely. He gave me forever. Two more daughters. And three sons.”

Three sons, I thought. Rami and Joe and Ben. She counted Ben.

“Does someone have to be dying?” I asked her softly. “You know. To become like you.”

“No, honey. That’s just how Gwil does things.”

“But...why? What’s the possible downside? Why not change anyone who wants it?” Why not change someone like me?

And Mercy peered over at me, contemplative, curious, like tiptoeing gingerly over rotted floorboards, like weaving through a minefield. Like she was trying to figure out what I’d already been told.

“Hey Baby Swan,” Joe said, startling me. I whirled to see him waiting with a patient smile and his hands buried in his pockets. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He led me upstairs to Gwil’s 1960s-style office, where Dr. Lee had cleaned and stitched the tiny gash in my forehead after my misadventure with Ben in the woods outside Calawah University, where the wall above the sturdy oak desk was adorned with a massive painting filled with gorgeous, unfamiliar, inhuman faces. Joe took a deep breath, and then he began.

“This,” he announced, introducing the painting, “is the vampire version of the mob. They can trace their existence back to before the Roman Empire. They find people who they think have potential, have talents. They turn them. And then they offer them a hundred-year contract. You sign it, or they murder you. When your term is up, you get to decide whether to renew or leave. But almost no one ever leaves. After a century of taking orders and guarding and killing, what else do you know how to do?” He pointed to the terrifying woman with long white hair and red eyes. “That’s Liesl. She’s literally Satan, only blonder. The chick with the tattoos is Akari. She can meet a human and tell what powers they’ll have once they’re changed. Very useful, obviously. The dude who looks like Idris Elba is Cato, and he’s actually an okay guy, he’s the one currently assigned to keep tabs on Gwil’s coven...”

I soaked the names in like rain into dark, lush Washington earth as Joe relayed them to me, strange and beautiful names: Aruna, Phelan, Morana, Adair, Zora, Araminta, Honora, Victorien, Rigel, Sahel.

“Who’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the young man standing at the center of the painting, the one with black hair and eyes so light and luminous a brown they were almost gold and a sinister, unmistakable magnetism.

“Very good question,” Joe complimented. “That’s their Al Capone. That’s Larkin.”

“And what’s his vampire superpower?” He has to have one. I know he does.

“How do I even put that into words? It’s more than charisma. It’s slightly less than mind reading. He can see through people, what they want most, what they fear. And he can make them do things.”

I gazed into those omniscient glowing eyes, feeling myself getting caught there, feeling some primal dread swelling in the capillary beds of my heart and lungs and bone marrow. “Joe, I’m thoroughly enjoying this captivating backstory, really, but...why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because you asked why Ben is so different than the rest of us. This is why.” Joe waved broadly at the painting, at the closest thing his world had to a mafia, to unrepentant killers, to actual demons. “This is where he came from.”

[thefanficmonster]

And My Heart Burned In That Lodge

Michael (Mike) Munroe x Reader (female)

Warnings: Death, Grief, Dealing with loss, Heartbreak, Swearing

Genre: ANGST

Summary: None of them will ever be the same, who knows if they’ll even heal. However, the case is different for Mike. He’s left to be dealing with the guilt, grief and the haunting memory of his friend’s death. He’s angry with himself for all the wrong things he did and all the right things he was too much of a coward to do. Now, his only closure is talking to a gravestone, hoping the wind in the graveyard will pass the message onto the person who the words are meant for.  

Requested by Anon. Wish I could tag them, they have such amazing ideas ❤

PS - Sorry this is hella long, I got carried away LOL

I stand aside, watching as my friends place their flowers on her grave. I can hear their cries. For some odd reason I can’t find it in me to feel sympathy or the need to go over there and be with them. I can’t see how that would do anything but make me feel more miserable. Standing here, seeing this scene unfold in front of me, I can’t help but be reminded of how it all started.

Fuck Mondays, man. Fuck them from the bottom of my heart. Even worse, this is the first week of school after winter break so no one wants to be here. Even even worse, this is the first time I’ll be seeing Emily after out breakup. We broke up over text and while I’m aware that’s the worst way to break up with someone, I must admit it was the only way for a lot of arguing and awkwardness to be avoided. 

It’s the first time I’m coming to school alone in a while. Without Emily, the car was pleasantly quiet aside from the songs on the radio. Not gonna lie, it felt a bit lonely. Being single for the first time in what feels like forever is both liberating and oddly melancholic. I try to push the self-loathing and the depressing thoughts away as my eyes scan the hallway, looking for the group of familiar faces. My gang. We used to be ten people but we lost two girls during our winter getaway at the Washington lodge. Josh’s sisters, Hannah and Beth, went missing and are presumably dead, all cause of a stupid prank Jess, Emily and I concocted, convincing Matt and Ash to go along with it. In retrospect, I don’t know what we were thinking.

‘Seriously, Mike? From one depressing thought to another? Is your brain lacking serotonin today more than usual or what?‘ I mentally scold myself just as I spot two familiar faces - Sam and Ashley. 

It doesn’t take long for me to notice the rest of the gang - Matt, Jess and Chris - all standing near by, surrounding a girl I have never seen before. She sticks out immediately with her long H/C hair and shiny E/C eyes. Jess has her arm linked with the girl, a gesture really out of place for Jess. I mean, her and Emily are pretty close and I’ve never even seen them hug.

“Hey, man. How are you?“ Matt notices me first, lifting his head and smiling at me. His greeting leads the others to look in my direction as well, including the girl. I catch Jess lean down in and whisper something to her. I can’t hear what she’s saying but it clearly aggravates her. I have never received a dirtier look from a girl in my entire life. I usually have the opposite effect on women but I guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“Mike...” Jess steps away from the girl and towards me, “this is my best friend, Y/N. She just got transferred here.” She turns her attention back to the girl, “Y/N, this is Mike.” 

Y/N looks unamused as she outstretches her arm in my direction. “Nice to meet you” is what she says, but her expression clearly tells me she would like to see as little of me as possible. At least she’s polite, right? 

“Likewise.” The handshake is brief and, despite her obvious distaste for me, she still gives me a firm handshake. 

“Wait, you were transferred? I thought Jess said you came here cause you moved.” Sam furrows her brows in confusion. 

“Well, it’s really a chicken and the egg type of situation.” Y/N laughs, rubbing the back of her neck almost nervously, “We moved because I had to transfer.”  Yikes.“ Ashley comments, “Not to pry or anything, but why did you have to be transferred?“

Y/N looks me dead in the eyes, as if she’s sending me a message that I better not overlook, or so help me God I’ll be dead. ”Noses randomly broke when I was around.”

It hurts so much to look back on those times and not pick up on what I was feeling. I foolishly decided that if I can’t give the feelings a name or find them a purpose I should turn a blind eye. I wasn’t that ignorant, I could tell she was the cause, but I could never admit it.

And then there’s the situation with Jess...

“You hurt her, and I’ll kill you.“

I found Y/N by the bleachers and let me tell you, she’s quite the paradox. She’s a straight A, no nonsense, intelligent beyond her years girl. With all these characteristics, you’d think she’d know better than to smoke cigarettes. Wrong! She’s a smoker. Jess can never not complain about the smell of cigarette smoke, it’s a miracle these two get along.

To my ‘hi’ she responded with what looked to be an eyeroll and an annoyed release of smoke through her nostrils. Even though I know I’m not welcome to be in her proximity, I still decide to sit down a little ways away from her, for personal space and all that. Definitely not cause I’m slightly afraid of her. No way.

We just sit in silence until she hits me with the aforementioned threat. I am caught off guard. All I can do is stare straight ahead of me like a deer in headlights. After maybe thirty seconds of absolute confusion I manage to turn my head to look at her. “What are you talking about?” The question is supposed to sound harsh but compared to the way she spit out that death threat it sounded more like a whimper.

“You are such an ignorant asshole.“ She shakes her head, throwing her cigarette on the bench below her. She stomps on it and walks away. I can’t help but stare at her until she’s out of sight. I feel like I’m watching something non-human. A phenomenon you can experience once in a lifetime - if you’re lucky. 

She’s the complete opposite of Jess: grounded, smart, rational. The only time I’ve seen her be so unpleasant is around me. I catch her interactions with the rest of the gang. From afar, she seems like the nicest, friendliest girl. And then she catches a glimpse of me and her mood changes. I don’t know what’s her problem with me but I know it most certainly isn’t something I’ve done to her. She’s been like that since the first moment we were introduced, so either Jess has talked a lot of shit about me or she just hates people named Michael. I may never know.

I had no idea what she meant at the time and only found out three weeks ago. Speaking of three weeks ago, the group once again headed for the Blackwood Pines, trying to hide their uneasiness with make excitement. I was pretty hyped when I heard we were going because that also meant our friend Josh was finally starting to get better. He hadn’t been in a good mindset since his sisters went missing and we were all really worried for him but weren’t allowed to show it because he always insisted he was fine.

He wasn’t. He was as messed up as ever and served as only the prologue to the nightmare of a night we had to live through.

But before all that could happen, the night started off well. Better than expected. The eeriness of the mountain combined with the bad memories we had of the place we still there, we could all feel the tension, but we did a good job masking it with jokes and whatnot. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to go and not only because of what happened the year prior.

“Wait, wait, wait. Y/N’s coming too?“ I ask, looking at Josh with wide eyes.

The guy is clearly confused by my overdramatic reaction to him counting down the names of the ones who had already RSVPd ‘Yes’. “Is that a problem or something?”

I sigh, hiding my face in my hands. It’s embarrassing to admit, really. “She doesn’t like me, and that puts it mildly. She hates me.”

He looks even more baffled than before, “Why? What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Not a single thing. I haven’t even had a proper interaction with her.“ Talking about this matter exhausts me, mostly cause I can’t even express half the things I’m feeling.

There’s been a time or two I’ve caught her looking at me but her eyes weren’t filled with that distrust I’m used to. She looks away quickly when we make eye contact, as if she can’t put the mean mask on in time and she has to look away to do a system reset. I sometimes catch myself looking at her without realizing. I try to tell myself I do it for the purpose of solving her. 

‘Who are you kidding, Munroe?‘

                                                                  * * *

And here I am, climbing up the mountain to the Washington lodge. I’ve made it a goal to use this getaway to mend things with Y/N. It’s the only way for me to get back to normal. To get my mind back since she’s recently been living in my head rent-free. I’m bullshitting, not just recently. She’s taken over my brain since day one. I can’t place what’s going on with me, I can’t find a term to label it with and I most definitely can’t find a way to stop it. So, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I can’t stop it on my own, she’ll have to do it for me.

Another thing - I’ve never felt nervous or self-conscious around a girl all my life. Never. My friends joke that I’m a ladies’ man and I’d say that’s pretty true. So I have a tough time understanding how I turn into an awkward turtle that’s missing confidence when she’s around.

Once we all get settled in and there’s a fire going, giving the lodge a cozy atmosphere, it’s every man for themselves. Everyone picks a activity they want to occupy themselves with and the living room of the lodge empties out, leaving me there alone.

I scroll stare at the screen of my now useless phone. The thing has no reception and no way of keeping me busy, leaving my attention to wander to the voices that are getting more and more distant as my friends walk out of the room.

I can’t help but overhear Jess say to Y/N, “You haven’t even set your bag down yet and you’re going for a smoke? Jeez, Y/N.”

“You say as though you don’t know me.“ Y/N laughs, the sound of a door opening following after her voice.

It’s such a nice sound, her laugh. I’ve never heard it before. I’ve seen her smile and seen her chuckle at someone’s joke, but it was never actually a laugh. Seems she keeps those for special occasions. 

If she’s in the type of mood to laugh, she’s in the type of mood to be civil with me. Before I can talk myself out of the on-spot decision, I mentally slap myself and get off the couch, walking to the door to the side deck.

“You’ve got this, she’s just a person” 

“Who’s just a person?“ her voice cuts through the silence of the outdoors.

‘SHIT I SAID THAT OUT LOUD‘

I decide to carry this all the way, no shortcuts. No backing out. Somehow, now that she’s standing in front of me - a cigarette between her fingers, her shoulders tense from of the cold - I find it easier to get the words out. She’s just as human as everyone else. The cold causes her to shrivel up. She’s addicted to tobacco. She’s not some riddle I need to solve, just a person I need to talk to in order to understand.

“You.“ I reply, “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?“

She shakes her head, her shoulders trembling a bit, “It builds the immune system.”

“No, it makes you suffer.“ I shrug my jacket off, cautiously approaching her and wrapping it around her.

Surprisingly, she accepts it with a nod and a murmured ‘thanks’, holding onto it with the hand that’s not holding her cigarette. “Why were you reminding yourself that I’m just a person? Do I not look like one?” She scoffs, facing away from me to look at the snowy hills ahead.

“No, no, not that. You just make me nervous that’s all.“ 

She whirls around, giving me this look as though she has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Really? Why’s that?“ she puts out her cigarette on the wooden railing, focusing all her attention on me.

My hand instinctively goes up to the back of my neck, feeling my face start to heat up. “Well, you’re not really fond of me. And I don’t know why, and....” I trail off, sighing in self-disappointment, “And I wanna know why.”

Her expression turns the complete opposite, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s not about something you have done. It’s about what you might’ve done.”

Despite feeling slightly relieved, I am no less confused than I was a minute ago. “And what is that?”

“Break my best friend’s heart.“ She looks a lot more serious now, “You really had no idea she was head over heels for you just a month ago. You were so oblivious and she was so whipped...“ frustration radiates off of her, “I just didn’t want her to get hurt.“ She closes her eyes, stabilizing herself before finishing her statement, “I didn’t want to hurt her.“

“Wait, what?“

The hurt that paints itself on her face is contagious. I feel it too and I don’t even know what’s causing it. “She always told me about you. Mike this and Mike that. She made you sound like the best guy in the world. And...I really wanted to be let down when I met you, but you were nothing but nice to me and to the other people in the group. But you were also such a jerk from time to time. You are just too...Fucking forget it.” 

In a blink of an eye she puts my jacket over the railing and runs inside the lodge.

“Y/N, wait!“

Needless to say, running after her was the best decision I’ve made. I didn’t get her to admit to anything, but at least we lied down the armor and agreed to give each other some time to get to know one another. Drop aside the assumptions and give a this acquaintanceship the chance to become a friendship. 

Sadly, all good things come to an end way sooner than we want. The rest of that dreadful night I witnessed her transform. When everyone was freaking out, she held them and comforted them. I saw the fear in her eyes but she never let it shine through in her actions. She was the one still holding it together even after she saw that disgusting creature. Her and I were the ones to turn that sanatorium upside down. We were with Josh in the mines. We were the ones to see the Wendigo first. We were by each other’s side the entire time. We had each other’s backs. 

I’ve never felt such a connection with someone. I was experiencing the most intimate understanding with a person in the worst moment of my life. It was bittersweet. The poison mixed with the cure.

Even when she knew her death was approaching, her only reaction was a single tear. A single crystal drop running down her cheek.

We can make a break. We can run right out of this hell hole and turn it to ash, all we need is for this fucking to focus its attention elsewhere. Thankfully Chris, Ash and Emily have made it out already and they’re safe. However, Sam, Y/N and I are trapped. The silent looks we exchange are laced with fear and panic. We have to calculate our next moves down to a millisecond and we don’t even know what those next moves should be.

Suddenly, a sharp pain starts spreading from my hand shoulder. My adrenaline is no longer doing a good job blocking out the pain of the fingers I had to sever. I slip up, letting out a hiss. The pain is just that unbearable.

That thing turn at the speed of light, letting out a screech and heading in my direction. My whole body is tense I couldn’t move if I wanted to but my arm is in such a horribly painful position, I think I’ll faint if I don’t readjust it.

“HEY!“ The voice comes from opposite me and my heart drops.

Sam’s next to me. It’s not her. It’s Y/N. 

The Wendigo loses interest in me as soon as it hears her yell turning and heading straight for her. It all starts sinking in. Now that it’s facing away, Sam and I can make it out. But she can’t. It’s over for her. There’s no way she’s leaving this lodge.

I catch her eyes from across the room. Her posture says a fighter, but her eyes scream ‘petrified’. She knows it too. She knows it’s game over. A single tear rolls down her cheek, shattering my heart.

That’s the last vulnerable moment, however. She turns her head, deciding to go out without showing a glint of fear to that piece of shit. I don’t have to look at Sam or tell her what to do. We’re both aware that we’re about to make it out, losing Y/N in the process.

It happens in a split second. Y/N spits at the Wendigo and then next thing I see is her laying on the ground in a pool of blood. 

The dash out of the lodge is a blur. The last thing I remember is sitting outside of the burning building, staring at the flames. The lodge wasn’t the only thing burning. Years of memories; history; wendigos; and my heart burnt in that lodge.

I see the group leave the graveyard. I struggle to move forward, my limbs heavy. I feel gravity is a lot stronger all of a sudden. 

I didn’t go to the final goodbye. I knew it wasn’t her. There was nothing left of her to bury. Sam told me they buried things that reminded people of her and objects she cherished. 

Well it’s time I give my goodbye.

I shrug my jacket off - the same jacket from that night - and put it around the gravestone like I put it over her shoulders. There’s a box of the cigarettes she smoked in the inner pocket.

“I hope you felt what I felt, Y/N. I hope I didn’t have to say it for you to notice it. I wish I knew...cause now it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.” I can’t stop the tears, I’m too weak and I’ve been holding them back for far too long. “I’ve never believed in an afterlife. But I really hope there is one, just so we can meet again.” I scoff, shaking my head, “Who am I kidding, I’m probably going to hell.”

I believe that’s where I deserve to go, anyway. I’m the reason she died. And I will never let myself live that down. I will never forgive myself. A flame like no other burnt out so mine could keep burning.   I will make sure it haunts me till the day I leave this world behind.

[oftenderweapons]

Small Town Swoons

Hello buttercups! Here is the big fat project I was talking about. I am giving you snippets and teasers of the whole thing, just to let you know what you’re all getting yourself into. 

There are some spicy tidbits here and there, so I would suggest only mature (18+) people read and/or engage with this post. 

I’ll be starting with Yoongi since his piece is really in the holiday spirit and I’m super hella inspired to write it, but don’t worry, Steamy waters is still coming (just know that I’m not done publishing stuff for the night 👀)

Let me know what you think about this project, what story you like the most and which one you really really look forward to reading 💕✨

Just in case you need it, here is my masterlist

Enjoy 💜

Apple of My Pie — Jin

In the bakery and café near the university many students barge in, desperate for coffee and the delicious apple pies served there once October comes. Some of them barge in for the sweet sight of the owner, still mysteriously single. Little do you know that he’s been pining after you for years, since you ran into his café in a slow, rainy Sunday morning, drenched like a stray kitten, asking only for friendly help. Friendship sparks easily and his comfort tastes as sweet as autumn apples. That’s how you find yourself flatmates, watching movies with his secret recipe hot cocoa on Saturday evenings and waking up to the delicious scent of his pies on Sunday morning. But the sudden apparition of a rival makes you wonder, what would it be like to fall asleep in his bed every night?

Mold Me New — Taehyung

Divorce is a mess, especially when you’re so young and you had bet your life on your high school crush. All those things you never had to learn are scary now: dating, friends with benefits, all those secret rules on social interactions and flirting. But then your friends gift you a clay modelling lesson at the local pottery. Your teacher looks like a quiet, grumpy man who slowly warms up to you, offering you his kind smiles and gentle laughs. Right when fear that your lack in courtship manners might cost you your greatest chance at a new happiness, his lessons indirectly turn into small advice, and suddenly it feels like his hands are shaping your heart into the perfect, beautiful whole you needed. And to show him your gratitude, you’re more than willing to gift the artist his creation.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.” That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed him in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out. “Every shape has its specific requirements.” He explained, dipping his hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from his fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched.” Once he was happy with the result he sat up, his foot starting a small pressure on the pedal. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up.” He smiled at the material underneath his hands. “Gentle. Easy.” He said, his sinewy fingers gently pressing into the art piece to be. His fingers seemed to stretch and bend imperceptibly, as if he was feeling the very texture of the material, and of the final result he wanted to obtain. “That’s the secret to good things.”

The Shrew, Untamed — Jimin

Everyone gets married in small towns. The hairdresser’s daughter, the butcher’s niece, the doctor’s granddaughter. Even your best friend. And someone has to organise all the weddings. You have taken part in so many it is unnerving. You’re not asking for a husband, a simple fuckbuddy would suffice. You don’t even need someone with skill, you just need to have sex with a human. Though your goal seems unattainable and life apparently truly sucks, the petty florist where you order the flower arrangements offers you a beacon of hope, comforting you and spoiling you whenever you visit his shop, condescending to your every whim. Will he satisfy your every wish or will you have to supervision your best friend’s wedding on the verge of sanity?

“Sit down, sweet pea.” He said, offering you his chair. He immediately stood behind you, digging his fingers into your shoulders, massaging them. He always smelled like greenery. It was relaxing. “Who pissed on your roses, tiger?” He asked, his thumbs drawing circles at the base of your neck. You moaned and closed your eyes. “Poor baby. So stressed.” He purred, laughing. “Portia is getting married.” You groaned. He ohed. “Your friend, Portia?” You frowned and pouted. “That bitch. Portia.” You growled. He laughed a silvery sound. “It’s your best friend.” “It’s a stressed out insult. She wants me to plan it. Jimin, I am so tired of watching people getting married.” He kneaded the nerves near to your spine. “It’s a professional hazard, baby’s breath.” His finger stilled as he reached the middle of your back without finding the clasp of your bra. He moved upwards, ignoring the small detail. “It’s the third in two weeks. I can’t. Is everybody getting married this spring?” You asked, your head rolling forward. “I’m tired. Stressed. Grumpy.” You whine. “Baby, you have your sugarcane at home, use it.” He said, referring to your swirl shaped dildo. You shook your head. “It’s the warmth. Human touch. Sympathy.” Ask me, please — Jimin mentally begged — I’ll be so sweet to you. “And now I even need a plus one for Portia’s wedding. Lest she pairs me up with her cousin. Did I mention that he’s thirty and bald?” You sighed. “I can help.” He said. “With the Plus one.” He clarified. “Don’t expect me to get my fingers in your pie, blossom.” He stated. You shook your head. “Your loss.” You tutted. His loss, for sure. Not like you wanted him massaging your breasts as you sucked him off, laying on your white silk sheets, his dulcet moans filling your lonely room and your empty

Natural Connection — Namjoon

The city sucks. And before you definitely choose to resign from your job, you spend the money earned with your all-work-and-no-play attitude in a reinvigorating holiday in a natural resort in the woods. What you find is true heaven on earth, an eden of wonders and explorations. When you meet your guide, who will follow you and you alone, you almost cannot believe your luck. The closed-off man leads you through all the breathtaking sights of your location, offering you emotions and landscapes unrivalled — both in terms of wildlife and... well, humans? The steamy atmosphere seems to keep growing hotter together with the summer days, and before you can think twice your big friendly giant helps you get rid of the hots. What happens when your Adam and Eve idyllium gets interrupted by a ruckus of stag-partying jocks?

Namjoon knew your average blood pressure at rest and under effort, your shoe size, your weight and height. Still when he found you right before him he could barely believe the sight of you. He knew you were small but this small? He was surprised. Amazed. Completely dazzled by your size. “Uhm. Kim Namjoon?” You asked, hesitant. God, even your voice was small — he noticed. As you got even closer, he realised you barely reached his sternum. He was endeared. He imagined how hugging you would feel. Why was he imagining to hug a stranger? “Hello! Welcome to the Valley!” He said, offering you his hand. You took it and shook it energetically. “Thank you. I assume you will be my guide during my stay.” You commented. “Exactly. I'll be your coach and your guide through the whole experience.” “Perfect.” You smiled. He was dumbstruck by it. So sweet and bright. You noticed he had a nice voice. And a kind smile. He looked like a very gentle giant. “Have you brought any specific equipment with you or would you prefer to use the one we offer?” “I have trekking boots and walking sticks. You know, basic stuff that's difficult to find when you're the size of a teapot.” He laughed a loud belly laugh, which surprised you and pleased you. “Okay, we can head to the hall and chat about your activity plan.” He said, leading you. Walking behind him was definitely a hard challenge, both because his legs were kilometric — and damn fine — and because how could you not stare at that ass right in front of your gaze, clad in oh-so tight shorts? Once he realized you were basically running behind him, he turned, a bit confused. And then embarrassed. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, taking shorter steps. "Don't worry, it's okay. I'm a fast walker." You stated. He grinned. He barely stopped himself from murmuring a 'cute'. You were adorable.

Ink ‘n’ Run — Jungkook

People find awful ways to inculcate mean insecurities in our lives. It is to get rid of insecurity that you head to the talented tattooist in a small town near your campus, ready to ink your fears away. Ready to start from zero, you let yourself enjoy a night out clubbing and a steamy one night stand with a tattoed god. Hit by the morning-after regrets, you run away before he wakes up. Little do you know that he’ll be the man you’ll be spending several hours underneath, half-naked as he inks you. Such a shame that you keep running away each time he is ready to ask you for a date. And that he keeps running away after you convince yourself to concede him one. Will you manage to let each other see that you click perfectly or will you let that night be just an accident?

“Oh. You’re back. Lovely to see you, how can I help you?” He looks sweet. God, he was sweet, of course he looks sweet; you thought. He was the most gentle man you had ever been with. Wicked hips, but such a sweet mouth. “Uhm, I have an appointment?” You said, showing him the business card with the date and time of your appointment. “Oh.” His expression was the perfect depiction of confusion. “Uhm. I guess you can come into my studio, then. Do you have someone with you? Would you like Daisy to come in?” He said, looking at the girl sitting at the reception table. “No, I’m cool.” You forced yourself to form a tiny, polite smile on your face. As he walked ahead of you you noticed the way his tight black t-shirt hugged his narrow waist. And his wonderful, jeans-clad, toned ass. God, he had rammed into you like a mad man that night. You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to reality. Meanwhile, his mind was fuelled by millions of questions. Why had you run? Were you freaked out by what was happening? Were you as affected as he was at the idea of him working on you? Did you think he was a fuckboy? Would you let him take you out on a date? Would you let him fuck you again? Wait, scratch the last one.

Head over Heals — Hoseok

You are the most talented ice skater of your state. Or rather, you were. Your career was harshly interrupted by an unfortunate accident. Healing from the hurtful events takes strong nerves and positive energy. Luckily, your physiotherapist — the neighbour of your childhood home — is the most positive, enthusiastic person. New feelings bloom like daisies on a warm spring morning, while old feelings rekindle and light your way back home like a field of fireflights, back to places that you’ve always loved. It takes little time to get used again to his sweet energy and his gentle hands, healing your body and your soul. It takes even less time to fall head over heels for him.

“What changed?” He asked, drying your tear with his thumb. “I don’t know. It feels like it changed.” He smiled. “You’re still the same to me. Same bright eyed little girl running around in a summer dress, smelling like honey shampoo and sun cream. You feel like home. I think nothing has been okay since you were gone.” Your heart took a second to melt and resolidify around that new truth. “Hobi.” His eyes were glittering. “I think I always had a soft spot for you. You and your knees always scraped, the small curls framing your face, the way your braids came undone that night as we were driving away after prom in the convertible your parents ran away in when they eloped.” He looked so sad. And so beautiful. “Hoseok, I never forgot you, you know. You were my first.” You confessed. “And you were mine.” He replied. He paused. “We were perfect.” “We were.” You replied. We still could be. We are.

Sugar and Spice — Yoongi

A new girl moves into town, her goal starting her life from scrap. And then on a foggy autumn night she ventures in the local pub, where she meets a cute, tattooed bartender who happens to be the local sweetheart. Fate — and the sweet granny next door — seem to push them together; it’s only a matter of time before feelings bloom and attraction becomes too intense to resist. The magic of a small town, and that loneliness that they share and understand so deeply, bring them close at the most wonderful time of the year. Love can blossom even in the dead of winter and who knows, maybe they’ll find a new life by the time of the new year?

“How does it feel to live in a small town?” You asked, stretching your legs out the flannel blanket. Sunlight came in through the yellow leaves of the apple trees. “Like time doesn’t really exist. Until you don’t have any left and suddenly your friends are getting married and having children and all you have is a useless piece of paper stating that you’re a doctor.” He said. “But it’s okay. It’s lovely, at times like this.” He said, looking at the sky. “Marriage and kids are overrated.” You said, laying down. He looked at you, your eyes closed, your hair coming out of his beanie, currently covering your head. “Don’t leave me alone here.” You had a beauty he had never known. Or that maybe he had seen in his mother. That rough, tough beauty that looks dangerous from afar. Delicate from up close. You weren’t gracious. You weren’t cobwebs and golden hair and clouds. You were the ground, the trees, the stone. You were the mountains capped in ice, beautiful and so endangered. Still, so steady. You were the forest, eternal. Nothing could marr you. No man, no humanly disgrace. You would weather and transform, like nature does. Maybe he was idealising you, maybe he was giving you all those traits he had always wished in a woman. “Stop staring at me. Lay down. Enjoy your seconds before you turn into a fifty-something lonesome worm.” You teased. He laid. Your hand found his. “I’ll tell you how a small town feels like, based on the opinion of a girl from a big city.” He exhaled a laugh. “It’s comfort. Like when it rains outside but you’re in your bed and you’re warm and you don’t have to get up. You can simply lay.” He rolled onto his side, staring at your eyelashes. If I blink, will she disappear?

[pikapeppa]

5 Questions for Writers

First of all, @serial-chillr​ I LOVE YOUR WRITER TAG MEMES. Second of all, I looked at these questions and was immediately like, “... favourites of everything? Out of all the things?” [stares hopelessly at all the ships and fics] BUT LET’S GIVE THIS A TRY.

Tagged by @serial-chillr​ @faerieavalon​ @elveny​ @hellas-himself​ @myfeyrelady​!

1. Do you have a favourite character to write? Who and why?

Fenris. WOW EVERYONE IS SHOCKED. But the thing I most love writing about Fenris is the complexities of his relationships with the Inquisition companions in particular, which is the main focus in Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor fic). I LOVE writing Fenris talking to Solas, Dorian, Varric and Cole especially. And, of course, always, Fenris with Rynne. 

Solas is a very close second because he’s so multifaceted and has so many moods. I also love writing smut for him because understated dom!Solas hits all my buttons… [fans self]  

2. Do you have a favourite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

Uhhhh… I guess Fenris and Rynne are a pretty classic case of the angry character/sunshine character ship trope. Mutual pining is a favourite, exemplified with FenRynne but also with Abelas and Athera Lavellan. I’M BAD AT IDENTIFYING MY OWN TROPES, someone else needs to help me out here haha!! 

3. Share your favourite description you’ve written?

Bahaha when I first saw this question I was like “UGHHH I hate writing descriptions of places.” Then I realized that a lot of the smut I write is descriptions and I was like “YEAHHHH”. So here is some Fenris/Rynne Hawke smut (from “My Body Is A Cage”): 

****************

The heat, the slick pressure of her throat and the hard pressure of her knuckles between his legs, her firm fingertips digging into his lower ribs: Hawke gave all of this to him, grounding him and holding him here in the bed they shared. Fenris was caught, helplessly and blissfully captured in this cage of his own pleasure. He was his body, living in it and relishing it and all the things that it could feel.

Pleasure and sensation, heat and tightness and the pounding of his own pulse, and even the things that had nothing to do with Hawke at all - the smooth flannel of the sheets under his sweat-dampened back and the tension in his fists as he twisted them into the pillows: all of it, every part of it was his body, and he was thankful for it, thankful for the pulsing waves of pleasure that were beating through his thighs and calves and even up into his throat. Fenris couldn’t think, couldn’t think a damned thing except that he loved Hawke, and he loved this, and he loved his own tense and pleasured body as she brought him to his peak -

And that peak, fasta vass, the fucking peak…

It surged through him like an overwhelming wave of force, washing through his straining limbs with all the sparking heat of Hawke’s lightning storms. He cried out his rapture and his praise and lifted his hips toward her mouth, and even through his mindless bliss, he could hear that his voice was rough and ragged with the strain of his own ecstasy.

4. Share your favourite dialogue you’ve written?

Fuuuuck. Dialogue/conversations are my catnip and my life. I always love writing Fenris and Rynne’s back-and-forth, which is the main reason I started my ‘ask Rynne Hawke and Fenris’ thing (which anyone can still submit to! I have a couple that I need to get to still!). But barring FenRynne convos, one of my favourite exchanges was this one between Fenris and Solas, from Lovers In A Dangerous Time. It’s long AND I’M SORRY, so you can feel free to skip it.

******************

Solas tilted his head. “Fenris, you too were raised in a city, and in circumstances even more disempowering than the alienages of the south.”

Fenris grunted. “And your point is?”

“Do you ever wish you were anything other than you are?”

Fenris glanced at Sera, then at Solas. “You mean, do I wish I were a human and not an elf.”

Solas tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Unless you wished you were something else entirely.”

Fenris raised one quizzical eyebrow. That was an odd thing to say. Then he shrugged and returned his gaze to the path ahead, and to Hawke’s slender back. “No,” he said. “I never wanted to be human. I am who I am.”

“You never wished that you were different from what you are?” Solas asked.

Fenris frowned at him. “If you’re asking if I wish to be like the ancient elves of old, then no,” he said bluntly. “That is an empty wish. A wish premised on no proof. There is no point seeking to recreate times long past. Especially since we can’t confirm what those times were like.”

“That is not what precisely what I meant,” Solas said. “But it is informative all the same.”

Informative? Fenris thought. What he’d said was hardly informative. It was just his opinion. But if Solas really wanted his opinion, he supposed he could share it. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do at the moment.

“I am satisfied with being a ‘city elf’, as they call it,” he said. “I don’t wish to be other than what I am. There is something… hardening about being the underdog.”

Solas looked at him. “Do you mean ‘heartening’?”

“That as well,” Fenris said.

The corners of Solas’s mouth curved in a small smile. Fenris shrugged. ”When I first escaped Danarius, I didn’t wish I was different. I wished everything else was different.”

Solas’s smile broadened slightly and he nodded in understanding, but Fenris frowned in thought. Now that Solas had him thinking about this, it was strange to compare his thoughts in the past to the way he felt about this topic now.

“Despite that, I… I am different than I was before,” he said slowly. “When I was first freed, I was… enraged. The change I desired was little more than a Tevinter landscape rendered in blood.”

Solas’s expression grew somber. “You can hardly be blamed. No great change has ever been wrought without the spilling of blood.”

“I am well aware,” Fenris said flatly. “But…” He paused pensively before speaking again. “I no longer thirst for the blood of my enemies. The snuffing of lives is a necessary cost, but… it’s one I no longer relish.” He glanced at Solas. “That was not always the case.”

Solas bowed his head briefly. “You are wise beyond your years, then.”

Fenris raised a wry eyebrow. “And you are not?”

Solas smiled. “Ah. No. You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight.”

Without quite meaning to, Fenris let out a small laugh. “I can't imagine.”

Solas’s smile grew. “I would ask you not to try. It was a very different time.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

I’ve been powering through writing the Trespasser chapters of Lovers In A Dangerous Time because I’m dying to write some parts of it, so those are going to happen very soon. When LIADT is done, I have a Felassan/Lavellan idea fic idea that I can’t wait to jump into. And then I have some Solavellan SMUT that I’m dying to write for @elbenherzart… [sweating]

Thanks for tagging me, friends! Tagging forward to @johaeryslavellan @midnightprelude @therarefereldancatlord @lostinfantasies38 @kittimau @barbex @novamm66 @dafan7711 @mrscullensrutherford @obvidalous @galadrieljones @thevikingwoman @solas-disapproves @beckily @iarollane @aban-asaara @tryvyalsynnes @lyrium-lovesong @irlaimsaaralath and anyone else who would like to play!

[almondbiscotti]

Top 10 Netflix Watches in 2020

A roundup of my favourites from what I’ve watched this year on Netflix.

 1.       Alice in Borderland

I only recently finished this (in like 2 days) and it is the best thing I watched this year. 10/10 will recommend, will pine for season 2, will attempt the webtoon even to keep my obsession at bay.

If you have not heard of AIB, you must be living under a rock. Or don’t have Netflix which is close to the same thing. The premise of AIB is that 3 friends suddenly find themselves in an alternate Tokyo where all the residents have mysteriously disappeared. They quickly realise they have to play pretty sadistic games to in order to survive and lives are dispensable. It has elements of Battle Royale (hey, also Japanese! The Japanese have some serious issues.) but I found AIB more engaging and suspenseful than Battle Royale because unlike Battle Royale which can be thought of as one long killing game, AIB is a series of many, extremely stressful but shorter games that aren’t just about killing each other.

What works so wonderful for AIB is the storytelling. It has AMAZING storytelling. How the characters progress from stage to stage and the mystery behind this “country” they’re in is kind of slowly revealed, how there are parallels with Alice in Wonderland, the playing cards, the excellently fleshed out characters. *Chef’s kiss* Chishiya is my favourite character. LONG LIVE CHISHIYA! I don’t care if everyone else dies but CHISHIYA MUST LIVE.

There are things I didn’t like about it, but it’s less to do with the show and more to do with Japanese acting/dramas in general. I find it very unnatural when the characters give very dramatic outbursts or attempt to act gangster-ish but I find this is very common in most Japanese shows. So I like to believe it’s a cultural thing. I also didn’t like the pointless skin showing and sex. I mean, we get an entire scene where a girl in a bikini fights a katana wielding mad man. But I think it might be more because it was adapted from a webtoon and it’s just adapting the anime style? And EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER has a depressing backstory, like every single one has some weird ass issue. (Tell me it doesn’t sound like Battle Royale.)

But overall, AIB’s winning combination of great world building, excellent storytelling and likeable characters, makes it my favourite in 2020.

 2.       Kim’s Convenience

I’ve talked about Kim’s Convenience before so I shall not go too much into it. It’s great, just watch it. If only for Appa. Just watch it for Appa. Appa is best. I love Appa.

 3.       Kingdom (S2)

I started on Kingdom quite a lot later than most people. Mostly because I’m a coward and horror is well, horrifying. So I watched Season 1 about 1-2 weeks before Season 2 was released. Must say I’m glad I did cos hello cliff hanger much?!?!

S2 was great too. Has all the elements I loved in S1. Excellent storytelling, the suspense, the build up, NO ROMANCE (makes it a frickin unicorn in Korealand), believable villains but the thing I enjoyed the most about Kingdom is the relationship between characters. SO PURE. SO REAL. SO AMAZING. MUST PROTECT.

The one thing I didn’t like was how the damn characters like to do this thing where they’d just freeze and AIIIISIH FFFFFFUUUUCCCCKKKKK and draw out the suspense when a literal tonne of zombies are coming for them. Like dude, RUN. But no. They will pose there like fucking idiots for like 2 minutes while the zombies come closer and closer till FINALLY, someone goes “RUN, YOU FOOLS” before they move a muscle. It’s nonsensical, it’s frustrating but it happens in every damn Korean show so… I’ll give it a pass. It’s not the show, it’s Korea.

No news if there will be a season 3 but there is a special episode being released next year, a side sequel of sorts. So… yay?

Still, IS GREAT. WATCH IT. LOVE IT. DESPAIR WHEN IT’S OVER.

 4.       Queen’s Gambit

This baby made chess sexy. How it did it, I have no idea. But 10/10 will recommend. It made chess so alluring, I downloaded a damn app and played 2 games and remembered how much I sucked at chess and promptly deleted the app again.

Anya Taylor-Joy is beautiful. Will recommend just for her face alone. And the beautiful cinematography. Beautiful, the whole thing is just beautiful.

I didn’t like the guy that played Benny though. Seriously what a weird casting choice. Dude is supposed to play some devil may care gangster but he looks like he’d fall over if breeze came by.

I think what makes Queen’s Gambit so appealing is that you see Beth succeed and rise up, then falls dramatically down but she comes back and triumphs over her chess opponents and her own issues. It’s essentially a story of overcoming adversary, of triumph. Gives you hope. Gave me hope. Made me want to play chess. Made me watch entire Youtube videos explaining the chess games featured in it. I’ll say that’s a win.

 5.       Sweet Home

My (and apparently the rest of the world’s) latest obsession. Well, my obsession is actually less the show, more just one character/actor.

CHA HYUN SOO IS A PRECIOUS BEAN THAT MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS. So frickin precious, with his broomstick spear and mismatched socks. I. LOVE.

But honestly, it is a pretty good show, my obsession with Song Kang (the actor) aside. The world building in Sweet Home was pretty well done, characters were compelling though as with Kingdom, characters do the same thing where they just stand there and freeze when danger is about to descend on them. Seriously, I lost count of the times I yelled HELLO FOOL RUN!??! at the screen. If the Spanish have magical dicks, then Koreans have idiotic legs.

I think the director/writer made a deliberate decision not to explain how the infection (if it’s even an infection) occurs, how monsters can be defeated or if they can even be defeated, and how the monsters’ abilities/traits are determined. And I enjoyed the mystery of not knowing and could understand the characters’ despair better because they were just as bewildered as me. (Me being me of course went to read a bit and it is explained more in the webtoon the show is adapted from but, I like to think the two are different.)

I find myself comparing it to Alice In Borderland quite a bit. Might be because I watched them one after another but also, the main characters share such similar traits, they even look similar. And with that comparison, AIB won. AIB has better storytelling and pacing. But Sweet Home has more characters you feel for and more deaths you care about. I cried a FUCK TON watching Sweet Home.

It’s good. Would recommend. If only to stare at Song Kang’s perfect face. 😊 Oh oh oh and the Soundtrack is also 10/10.

 6.       Derry Girls

I did not expect to like Derry Girls as much as I did. This was supposed to be a mindless Circuit Breaker watch for me but it was SO FUNNY! I related so hard to the characters because I was from an all girls catholic school in my youth.

Each episode is a bit of a standalone so you don’t even have to watch the episodes in chronological order. But they are all SO DAMN FRICKIN FUNNY. That’s what I loved the most about Derry Girls. It’s just funny. Watch it if you want something to make yourself happier.

Also, Irish accents are LOVE. That alone is worth the A grade.  

 7.       Criminal United Kingdom S2

Depressing as fuck but so engrossing. It’s literally watching a mystery unfold. The acting is also 10/10. Though the episode with Kunal Nayyar (Raj from BBT) made me very uncomfortable because I couldn’t unsee Raj.

What makes Criminal even more amazing is that there is only one set, an interrogation room. So the show can only rely on the writing and acting to be good. And it is really really very good. Not light watching but feed your soul with the excellent artistry.

(S1 is just as good as S2. 100% will recommend the entire Criminal Series TBH. France, Germany and Spain all are good.)

 8.       Teenage Bounty Hunters

CRACK. 10/10 SOLID CRACK. The show is as ridiculous as the title suggests. But I enjoyed it because it was so engaging! Storytelling was great, characters were great and IT WAS SO FUNNY. Great light watching. 😊

 9.       Dirty Money

ALSO DEPRESSING AS FUUUUUUUUCK. But I learned so much from it. Will not recommend watching it all at one go but it was hella educational. I feel like it opened my eyes to many things.

 10.   Dr Jason Leong Hashtag Blessed

SO FUCKING FUNNY. Nuff said.

[alteridolriley]

Forgotten

A/N: Hey there everyone! Look! I wrote something! IN ONE DAY! I was hella inspired by @sidespart‘s art here of amnesiac Roman and uhhhhhhh take this for it! LOL

People who wanted to be tagged: @a-not-okay, @imtoobiforyou, @apologieslogan, @cloverlyanxious, @icecoldparadise, @backatthebein

People I always tag: @artistictaurean, @availe, @anxious-patton, @mandeebobandee (plz message me if you want to be permanently added to my taglist)

TW: blood mention, injury/memory loss, food mention, yelling, crying, cursing

((Romantic Moxiety with pining Logince))

((Like what I do? Support me on Ko-Fi!))

---

The four of them were inseparable.

Everyone in their high school knew they were basically family.

Roman was the theater kid. Popular wasn't even the best way to describe him. Infamous was probably better. Roman was always the lead in every play. His vibrant personality and kind heart attracted everyone around him and Roman did his best to always be happy for them.

His brother, Virgil, was the well known artist of the school. He had been commissioned by their town to do art for restaurants and local businesses as well as the school itself. Being a bit of a quiet kid, Virgil depended on Roman to get him out of his shell a bit, which Roman did quite happily.

Virgil's boyfriend, Patton, was the farm boy. Raised outside of the bustling city, Patton grew up with chickens and cows as his best friends. There wasn't a farm animal alive on his grandparent's farm that Patton hadn't helped raise from birth. Patton loved all animals and shared his adoration of cats with Virgil quite closely as Patton's grandparents had commissioned Virgil to draw a portrait of Patton's barn cat, Isabella, who had recently passed away at the old age of 17. They realized they both attended Cravens Academy and now it's history.

Patton's cousin, Logan, also attends the school but he's far from the farm as that side the family runs the business aspect of the farm. Crunching the numbers and making sure the animals are provided for by scheduling food deliveries and produce sales. Logan is also the star of the debate team and is currently vice president of the student council, but everyone knows he runs the board and will eventually have the president title within the school year.

Logan has a secret the other three do not know, however. He's been pining for Roman since he met him.

In 7th grade, Patton introduced Logan to Virgil who in turn introduced Roman. Logan had been taken back by Roman's poise and elegance, and yet also frustrated by his spontaneity and unrelenting inability to say no to anyone. Logan watched as person after person abused Roman's kindness. As an upperclassman, Roman always offered to take on the bulk of the work in the theater class, but then suffer in his own schoolwork.

As the four of them sat around their shared lunch room table, Logan decided today would be the day he would put his foot down. Roman's classes were ending earlier today and he always spent every early ending day in the theater: cleaning, building sets, making outfits. Then he would suffer at home with his homework, being up until 2 or 3 in the morning to get it done. He knew this because Roman always complained about being tired the next day.

"Roman?" Logan said, interjecting his voice into Roman and Patton's conversation.

Virgil turned to give Logan an odd stare. Logan figured Virgil could read the atmosphere just from the way Logan said the theater boy's name.

"Yeah what's up Specs?" Roman questioned, taking a bite of his lunch sandwich. Even his response seemed a bit on edge at what Logan had to say.

"I think... I think you should go to study hall today instead of the theater. After lunch, I mean." Logan said carefully. As the words fell out of his mouth, Roman's eyebrows narrowed. "I just think it's high time you take care of yourself for once-”

"And just ignore all the work that needs to be done for our performance coming up?" Roman retorted. "Our showing of Into The Woods is in two weeks and we have no costumes at all. I'm the president of the club and I'm also playing the Prince. It's my responsibility to get this stuff done, Logan. We've talked about this."

Logan sighed. "I know, but--"

"No buts Logan! God, I'm so tired of you constantly pushing yourself into my life like this. Why can't I do what I want to do?!" Roman said standing up, basically shouting.

The cafeteria around them fell silent. All eyes on Roman.

"You're always mothering me! Telling me "be sure to do your school work" and "you can't always focus on theater stuff". I can do whatever I want, Logan! Just... please leave me alone." Roman said, exasperatedly, breathing heavily. "Theater is my life. The reason I work so hard is because it is my dream to perform on Broadway someday. I've told you this. Why do you insist on getting in my way?!"

Logan stood up, pressing his eyes closed to prevent tears from falling. He didn't want to see Roman's red cheeks from anger or Patton's tears or Virgil's annoyance at both of them for causing a scene and making Patton upset.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Logan murmured before immediately picking up his lunch tray and leaving the table.

The lunch bell rang out and all the students began talking again all around Logan as he turned in his tray.

The Core Four are arguing??

Since when do they argue? I've never seen Roman so mad before.

Yeah that's what Logan gets for trying to baby his friends. He has no idea what Roman tries so hard to do.

Nuh uh, Roman has no idea how hard being on the Student Council! Roman needs to listen to Logan for once!

The voices kept filtering in but it didn't matter. Logan arrived at the student council room and locked himself inside. He didn't have any classes for the rest of the day either so he figured he could get some work done as well as his homework before heading straight home.

Logan threw his bag on the nearby solo chair and collapsed onto the couch. He was joking himself if he thought he was going to get any work done now. All he wanted to do was show Roman how much he cared. But of course, Mr. Robot couldn't show feelings for another person. He has no idea how they work... right?

A knock at the door jolted him up; Logan realized he had dozed off on the couch. He glanced up at the wall to see about an hour had passed. Classes were almost over. The person knocked at the door again. Logan rushed over and looked into the peephole to see Patton standing there. He had his hoodie pulled over his head and head down facing forward. Logan sighed as he opened the door.

"Patton, I-" Logan started to say before Patton threw himself into Logan's chest, hugging him tightly. "H-hey, what-" Logan staggered to hold himself up as Patton was nearly a foot taller than him.

"It's okay, Logan. It really is. Roman just doesn't understand how much you care about him. He also doesn't realize how much he's pushing himself..." Patton said through gasping tears. "But I know how much you care for him. Try again and say it from your heart. I know he will understand." He hugged Logan tighter. "I know you love him." Patton admitted before finally taking a step back.

"I see. I'm that obvious about it." Logan responded, walking back to the couch. He put his face in his hands. "Absolutely fantastic."

Patton came over and sat down next to Logan, rubbing his back. "It's okay. It's okay." Patton whispered under his breath. Logan wasn't sure if Patton was saying it for him or just about the situation in general.

Both of them were jolted again by loud banging at the door, followed by someone trying to open the door.

"Logan!! Logan, come on you idiot, open the fucking door!!"

"Remy? What?" Logan ran up to the door, throwing it open to see Roman's theater sidekick standing there, exasperated and his eyes wide. "Remy what's wrong?" Logan asked firmly.

Remy was missing his trademark sunglasses and was in half of a costume. He was breathing incredibly hard.

"You need to come to the theater room immediately. Where's Patton? Oh okay you're here too, god just come to the theater room please god let's just go." Remy said, grabbing Logan's arm and pulling him quickly as he spoke.

The three of them ran across the school only to see a crowd of people around the entrance to the auditorium as well as ambulance lights flashing through an exterior door nearby.

"Get out of the fucking way!" Remy shouted and as if controlled, all of the students moved, allowing Remy to pull Logan and Patton through the crowd.

Logan made his way through only to see Roman laying flat on the stage of the auditorium. Virgil was at his side, running his hands through Roman's hair. The boy wasn't moving. On the other side of Roman was a paramedic who seemed to be tending to Roman.

Patton made a mad dash to the stage, leaving Logan standing in the central aisle way leading to the stage.

Remy walked up behind Logan, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"A light went out as we were rehearsing. He said he could take care of it himself and refused when we all said no. And then... he fell. He landed on his neck and head and didn't move. One of the freshman called 911 and the teachers came flooding in. Virgil happened to be nearby when everything went down. He's pretty calm despite it all." Remy explained.

Logan's eyes canvassed the area. The small group of theater students sat to the right of the stage. Some were crying; some looked very angry. Logan watched Remy rejoin his theater group.

Part of Logan wanted to move. He could see Roman laying limply in Virgil's arms. The paramedic was still talking to Virgil. Patton was now at Virgil's side. He wanted to be there. Was Roman okay? He had to be, right? There was no way anything serious was wrong. Logically, all four of them wouldn't just be sitting there if something serious happened, right?

Suddenly, Logan felt himself walking closer. As he approached he saw a bandage covering Roman's left temple. It was lightly red where blood threatened to seep through. Logan felt himself shake a bit as the paramedic's voice became audible.

"He should wake up any moment now. No reason to take him to the hospital, but like I said, it seems he hit his head hard so he might be a bit forgetful at first." The paramedic repeated. She pulled her white gloves off and disposed of them in a proper clear bag before putting it back in her bigger bag. "I'll let the teachers know he's okay. I can see he's in good hands with you." She spoke to Virgil softly, patting his shoulder.

The paramedic stood up and as she did so, Roman groaned, his left arm jerking to his bandage.

"Oh god.... I..." Roman looked up and immediately pushed his way out of Virgil's arms, spooking Virgil, Patton, and the paramedic. "Where am I? Who are you people?"

That response jolted Logan forward and up onto the stage as Virgil held his hands out to Roman, as if to show he meant no harm.

"Roman, it's me. Your little brother. It's Virgil." Virgil explained. His voice was soft as if he was speaking to a child.

"Virgil? I-I don't know you. I... who am I? Roman? Who is-" Roman was cut off by the doctor.

"Honey, do you know what day it is?" She asked simply, pulling a small penlight out of her pocket and flashing it into Roman's eyes.

"Um... not really." Roman answered, blinking. He held himself up by his arms, but Logan could see him trembling. "What's going on?"

"You took a pretty bad fall here at your school, young man." She said, pointing to the light scaffolding above them. "You're lucky you're not injured even worse. My name is Amelia. Do you know your name?"

Roman looked down and gritted his teeth. "I don't... I don't remember, I... ugh my head hurts. What happened? I can't..." Roman pulled at his hair and Amelia turned to Virgil.

"Is there someplace nearby you can take him that's quiet? He will need his rest to fully recover. I'd also recommend an appointment with his primary physician as soon as possible." Amelia explained.

Virgil nodded. "I'll tell our parents. And yeah, we can go to the nearby meeting room. It should be empty and it has a couch." Virgil walked slowly up to Roman, holding out his hand. "Hey... come with me? Please?"

Roman looked up at him, and all Logan could see was pain and confusion across his face. Logan's heart sunk. How long would Roman be this way?

After a few seconds, Roman took Virgil's hand and the purple clad boy led his brother through the backstage exit of the auditorium. Patton grabbed Logan to make sure he followed. The four of them entered the room and Patton locked the door behind them. Virgil led Roman to the couch, telling him to lay down, covering him with a nearby blanket and getting several pillows under his head for extra support.

"Roman is your name." Virgil started as he pulled up a chair. "You're my older brother by about 15 minutes. That person over there," Virgil pointed to Patton who waved, "is my boyfriend, Patton. And that," Virgil pointed to Logan, "is one of our best friends in the world. His name is Logan."

Roman scrunched his face in confusion and frustration. All of them could tell he was trying very hard to remember. After asking some vague questions, it was obvious Roman didn't remember anything at all. Virgil suggested Roman just try to relax. Roman agreed reluctantly and settled down into the pile of blankets.

Virgil stood from his seat and walked over to where Logan and Patton stood.

"I'm gonna go get his stuff and my stuff, then take him home." Virgil explained. "I also gotta call our mom. She's gonna be so mad at the school for not calling her or sending him to the hospital but we don't need that medical bill." Virgil sighed. He turned to Logan. "Can you stay with him for me? I'll be back in like 15 minutes. I want help, but someone needs to stay with him."

Logan peeked over Virgil's shoulder at Roman before he nodded. "Yes, of course."

Virgil released a long breath. "Thanks dude. We will be back." He grabbed Patton's hand and pulled him out of the room, the door slamming behind them.

Logan pushed his hair out of his face and sat down in a chair, about five feet away from Roman.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock and a corner desk fan.

"So... um... Logan, right?" Roman asked as he sat up to face him.

"Yes, but you're supposed to be resting." Logan explained. "Virgil will kill me if anything happens to you."

Roman coughed a laugh. "I see. Well, he seems very kind so I'm happy about that. Anyway, I wanted to ask something..." he bit his lip before continuing. "... what's our relationship? You seem to be the most uncomfortable here but Virgil said we're best friends, right?"

Logan felt his shoulders stiffen. "Yeah, we are. Or at least I hope we are."

"Hope?" Roman responded and Logan heard his voice crack. "I hope I didn't do anything to hurt you, Logan. If so, that wasn't my intention."

Logan shrugged. "It's too much to explain to you at the moment. But we both said some things to each other at lunch today and left on not so great terms, so that's what I mean when I said I hope we were best friends."

Roman laid back onto the pillows. His eyes became half-lidded, like he was fighting off sleep. "I'm sorry, Logan. I'm sure I didn't mean it." He said barely above a whisper.

Logan stood and walked closer, leaning down to Roman's level. "You should rest. We can talk more about it later. Once you have your memory back." Logan reassured, tucking Roman in tightly. "Get some sleep before Virgil comes back. I love you."

Logan immediately realized what he had said and slapped his hand over his mouth. Roman did not move as Logan realized he had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, his mouth partly open with his chest slowly rising and falling. Roman didn't hear him... right?

Before Logan could process the probability, the door unlocked and in came Virgil and Patton. Patton was carrying Logan's backpack and his briefcase. Virgil was on the phone.

"Yes mom. Yes... I know mom." Virgil kept repeating. "It seems Roman is resting now. I just got back to the room. I'm gonna let him sleep a bit longer before we head home. Okay. Yeah, okay, I will. Love you too." Virgil sighed as he ended the call, tucking the phone back in his pocket. "Everything alright Logan?" He asked.

Logan nodded as he took his things from Patton. "Yes, quite fine. I'm actually going to be taking my leave now. I'll see you both tomorrow. Give Roman my best."

Before Virgil or Patton could protest, Logan was out the door, making his way to the student parking area.

For the next several days of school, Roman was absent and so was Virgil. Patton told Logan that Virgil was staying home with Roman until he regained his memories since their mom couldn't take off from work and their mama was overseas for business.

One week after, Logan was sitting in the student council room, working on paperwork. He had proudly managed to get quite a bit completed. As Logan stapled a stack of papers together, a knock at the door rang out.

"Come in." Logan said as he bent over to file the packet away.

As he leaned back up, he was greeted by Roman standing in front of his desk. The boy was standing very casually with his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. He was grinning down at Logan.

"Roman!" Logan said, standing up. "You're back. Glad to see you're okay." He felt his face grow hot at remembering the last time he had seen Roman.

I love you.

"Yeah hey Specs. I just wanted to apologize for everything. The yelling at you in the cafeteria and all that jazz." Roman bit his cheek and scratched his head. "And also for any issues you had with my accident. I don't remember much about it, but I'm sure it was hard on you."

Logan sighed, crossing his arms. "Thank you, Roman. I am also sorry for the way I treated you that day. I need to realize you can make your own decisions and that I should support those decisions by assisting you how I can instead of just idly watching it happen."

"It's all good." Roman assured. "Also, um, I uh..." Logan's head snapped up and met with Roman's eyes. "Did you um... did you mean it?"

Logan took a sharp intake of breath. Well... shit.

"Mean what, exactly?" Logan responded.

Roman's eyes narrowed. "Feigning ignorance isn't going to help your situation, Specs. We both know what I'm talking about."

As Virgil would say, "I'm boned."

"Ah... that." Logan sat down. "What would happened if I say that I did mean it?"

Roman leaned over the desk, his eyes squinting with his lips curling into a smile. "I'd have to say I'm surprised you admitted it. As well to the fact that I remember it happening at all but..." Roman stood back up. "I would have to say it back."

Logan blinked. "Wait what? You... me... I... wait a minute-"

"The great Logan Foster is speechless? What such triumph it is for me!" Roman said happily, basically spinning around the desk to stand next to Logan. "But yes, my dear Logan, I will admit I also feel the same for you as you do I. Have for quite a long time as a matter of fact. Honestly, I've been trying to find a way to tell you, but all of my hints and flirting had failed."

Logan must've looked confused because Roman sighed loudly and unbelievably.

"You couldn't tell from the fact I bought you a dozen roses on Valentine's Day earlier this year? Or how on your birthday last year I took you to see your favorite band in concert just the two of us mind you! Also, may I say I'm surprised you wanted to see Breaking Benjamin, they don't really seem like your type of music but man they're pretty awesome, not gonna lie. And then what about the ring I gave you after the concert? Sure, it was just our birthstones but we have matching ones!" Roman stopped as Logan grabbed his shirt sleeve. The vice president didn't look up at him. "Logan?" Logan mumbled something incoherently and Roman frowned. "Come again?"

"I love you..." Logan said again, his face flushed a light pink. "Sorry I never noticed, I just thought you were being nice to me and I didn't want to read into the situation too much you know? I already do that so often. I'm sure it gets tiresome."

"No, none of that, my dearheart." Roman used his finger to get Logan to look up at him. "Your ability to understand the things around you is fascinating. You know, I realized I was in love with you almost two years ago. Virgil and Patton brought me along when they went with you for your academic team tournament thing. Seeing you up there on stage, standing your ground and firmly explaining your side of things was just... so damn attractive."

"It's called debate team but, thank you Roman." Logan said softly.

They stared into each other's eyes and Logan felt his heart begin to race. Roman was very close to him. Logan could feel his breath on his face and their noses were almost touching.

"May I?" Roman asked softly.

"You may." Logan answered.

The gap between them was closed as the two kissed deeply. Logan felt a weight falling off of his chest as Roman held him closely, running his fingers through Logan's hair. A tingle sensation flowed through Logan's feet and hands as the kiss came to an end. It was then he realized he had been smiling the whole time.

Roman reached up to push Logan's bangs out of his eyes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Logan could only laugh which caused Roman to begin snickering as well.

"Hot damn, it finally happened."

The boys turned to the doorway to see Virgil standing there with his arms crossed and Patton standing behind him grinning happily.

"This means double dates! I'm so excited! We can go to the amusement park and the movies and so much more!" Patton said excitedly.

"Pat, love, we already do that." Virgil responded and Patton frowned.

"Nooooo it's different now!! It'll be like a whole new experience!" Patton assured.

He turned to see Roman and Logan sitting on the couch, talking softly in their own little world, both smiling and holding hands.

"I'm so happy for them." Patton cooed. He reached over to hold Virgil's hand.

"Yeah, me too, Pat. Me too." Virgil agreed, squeezing Patton's hand back.

--

[01010010-posts]

okay BUT consider this: the human boys don’t really celebrate their birthday, so their s/o plans on changing that this year! They’ve got this big elaborate party 1 month in advanced, keeping it entirely from them, as a secret. HOWEVER, b/c of this, they start acting weird, leave at weird times during the day, answer/don’t answer certain calls/texts around them (all relating to the plans). Eventually they get suspicious and sad and plan to confront them, only to be surprised with a party! 🎉

ahahahah kin with human boys. im sorry for the extra late reply. also im writing this as a stream of consciousness thing because im going to bed in 0.005 seconds & i feel like im being chased hope it’s still ok!!! love u cuties/o might not even be someone who likes parties but they set on a personal mission of them having AT LEAST ONE (1) BIRTHDAY PARTY DONE RIGHT AND YOU CAN BET THEY WILL!!!! they get to know the secret info (the date. also, y’all can pry it from my dead blue cold hands but connor is a pisces, RK900 is a scorpio, 60 im still unsure but since in this AU they’re twins well he’s a fish too guess) casually, like, it might be connor scoffing something as ‘i swear to god ads of birthday supplies got too clever my birthday is the next month’ or 60 being all hyper because no, he doesn’t celebrate it but donuts shops SURE DO or RK900 getting kinda fidgety because uhh anxiety and also no no reason in particular i swear baby im ok [sweating lies]. it doesn’t really matters. what REALLY MATTERS is that these little shits don’t know what’s going to HIT them. literally. ofc s/o is so focused on the party they don’t even think about being hella suspicious and i mean, acting weird with these boys? it’s like sending a big red signal of ‘im tired of u wanna break up’ WHICH IS NOT NICE I MEAN FUCK??? they’re touchstarved on main please that would crush their tiny little hearts how could you you monster :’(((im such a sucker for the trope ‘we could literally talk about this and not pine & cry but that would mean being functioning adults and guess what we’re not.’.connor is half distraugh half ready to break everything so when he’s going to confront you he’s this close to crying and,,,, whaT THE FUCK I SAID I DIDNT WANT SURPRISES I SWEAR but he can’t help but be hella relieved and he’s just,,,, there hiding his face in the crook of your neck hugging you so hard you fear he’s going to pulverize your bones60 is sooo baby he’s such a nervous mess he picked on his fingers and now his hands are a mess he has tons of tiny bleedings oh god what the fuck he needs bandaids oh no no no can’t have my cutie see me like this what im talking about THEY WANT TO LEAVE ME AHHH but turns out he just worried TOO MUCH and oh this is nice. he’s having fun. he loves parties. not his birthday but if he ignores that part it’s good. actually the part about getting gifts is good too. and esp the part of you still loving him oh gosh he’ll ask you to cuddle him until you fall asleep the same night.why do you want my baby RK900 to suffer like this? he doesn’t deserve it. he’s super ready he knows you want to leave him like woah no surprises. actually yeah it’s a surprise bc for one time only in his life he thought everything was going fine ahahahaha??? he’s literally on the verge of having a nervous breakdown what the actual fuck. he convinces himself he can bear being without you but he’s oh so wrong. (if you have found someone else he’s going to fall so low i dont even want to write about it sob). he thanks whatever things exist up there when he finds out it’s just his birthday party. I MEAN it’s a social even so UGH but at least he still has your heart please don’t ever scare him LIKE THAT AGAIN he’s going to have a long chat with you therapeutic even no for real no more secrets no more surprises yep i know you meant well but he’s been trembling for the whole night have mercy on this poor man don’t laugh