#<- that's dramatic but none of the Big Three have shoes that fit me which is a logistical and financial struggle

[misseyres]

me: my pointe shoes aren't that dead, i bet i can keep pushing thru

my shoes: able to fold in half

[spideyobsessed]

Before It’s Too Late - Prologue

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Chapter one

“Come on, Y/n! Do it for me!” your best friend pleaded.

“I told you not at school! It’s not my fault you went out drinking on a Tuesday.” you scolded Gwen, who is being dramatic as always.

“Please! I’ll give you 5 dollars.” She clasps her hands together and pleads some more as she shoots you a sheepish smile. You let out a sigh and shake your head, knowing you’d give in to her eventually. “How about you just hand over your jello?” You bargain, doubting she even has money with her.

“Deal!” She cheers loudly before groaning and holding her head.

Ignoring your whiny friend, you scope out your area of the cafeteria. Once you were certain there were no eyes on you, you turn back to Gwen, “This is the last time I’m doing this at school.”

“Yeah yeah, just hurry!” She rushes.

You take a deep breath and focus all of your energy towards your hands. You place your fingertips on either side of Gwen’s head, a purple aura radiating from them. As the energy transfers from your fingers to her temples, you watch a wave of relief mask her face.

“Better?” You ask her, the purple already gone from your fingers. “So much better. Bless you, almighty Y/n!” Gwen bows her head and graciously hands you her jello cup. You let out a loud laugh before accepting the treat, “You are ever so welcome, peasant.” She shoves you slightly before joining you in laughter.

“I saw that, ya know?” A third voice suddenly appears.

Your eyes widen when you see who the voice belongs to. Michelle Jones. This girl notices everything and now she’s just seen you use your abilities. So dumb. So careless. How could I let her catch-

“See what, Mj?” Gwen interrupts your panicked train of thought.

The odd girl invites herself to sit at your table. She squints her eyes while looking back and forth between you and Gwen. “I saw how close you guys were just a minute ago. It just seemed like something is going on.” She speaks with subtle confidence, as if she just cracked a big case.

“What? Uh no. Nope. Nothing going on here, that’s crazy talk.” You chuckle nervously. The blonde girl besides you gives you a disappointed look, “Nice save.” You gulp hard and your palms being to sweat.

The secret is out. I’m done for. I’m going to live the rest of my life as a lab rat being poked and prodded every single day-

“I don’t know. Things just seemed kinda... fruity over here.” Your thoughts interrupted once more, this time by Mj and her idiotic comment. She and Gwen begin to laugh as you bury your face in your hands, your nerves settle, thankfully.

“Very funny, very funny.” Gwen manages to say through her laughing fit, “but we all know who Y/n really wants to swap spit with.” she points a finger.

You turn your head, and almost as if it was second nature, your eyes land on the guy you’ve been crushing on since 8th grade year.

Peter Parker.

You feel the heat spreading across your face and you’re sure your pupils are dilated out of this world, but none of it is enough to tear away your gaze. Gwen let’s out a high pitched “Aahh” as she attempts to replicate that of a beautiful church chorus (and does quite the opposite). You’ve learned to tune out your best friend’s theatrical tendencies.

The smallest smile creeps onto your lips as you watch him and his best friend, Ned, laugh and toss grapes into each other’s mouths. Gwen and Mj share a knowing glance before continuing their antics.

Look at him! The way he grabs his stomach when he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle in the corner when he smiles too wide, the way his curls droop over his forehead. He’s perfect... Oh no.

You whip your direction back to the girls next to you, “Is it that obvious? Does everyone really know I like him?” Your nerves return. “You only make it like super obvious, dude.” Mj snorts, stealing a fry from your tray. You sigh and start to pick at your rightfully earned jello.

“Too bad he doesn’t even know I exist.” You grumble, fully and shamelessly basking in your own self pity. “I can fix that,” Mj smirks, “Hey losers! Get over here!” She shouts from across the lunchroom.

She instantly captures the attention of Peter and Ned, who are obviously use to her ever so friendly nicknames, and everyone else in the cafeteria. You make brief eye contact with the curly haired boy and fight the urge to just melt in your seat.

Sweat starts to bead from your forehead as you turn to Mj and whisper harsh words of protests. “Just go with it, Y/n.” Gwen attempts to reassure you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Please please please don’t embarrass yourself, you thought as they approach your table.

“Yes, Mj?” Ned questions her with his eyes squinted. You can tell they’re both worried about what might come out of her mouth. Quite frankly, you are too! Mj has no filter and is too unpredictable.

You try to avoid making eye contact with Peter, which is really hard to do considering he’s standing right next to you. You smell the strong scent of cologne and suddenly your throat is drier than the Sahara Desert. You sit in silence as you fiddle with your fingers.

“You guys know Gwen and Y/n, right?” Mj speaks in her monotone voice as she points a thumb over to you and Gwen.

This brings out a loud chuckle from Ned, “Uh duh! Of course we know Gwen Stacy and Y/n Y/l/n.” You can’t help but tilt your head over to Gwen, who is just as confused as you, but seems to be entertained by the event unfolding before your eyes.

“What Ned means is, uh.. y-yes. We’ve seen you guys around. And totally not in a creepy way or anything. We’re not stalkers. I just mean I’ve seen you pass by my locker. Not that I was looking for you or anything. I-It’s just that- well...um. I’m gonna.. stop there.” Peter finally chimes in with a painfully awkward laugh, but you swear it’s music to your ears.

Mj clears her throat, “Anyway, it’s your lucky day, nerds. Liz is having a party this Friday and these ladies don’t have dates, so you’re gonna take them. Ned with Gwen and Peter with Y/n.”

While Mj sits back and watches in amusement as Peter and Ned take turns stuttering words of confusion and hesitation, you lean over to Gwen, “Are we just going to let her set us up with them?” “Shh. It’s getting good.” Gwen shushes you.

“Well what about you, Mj? Won’t you be like.. the fifth wheel?” Ned asks a pretty valid question.

“As a young woman, I will be attending the party alone because I refuse to contribute to today’s patriarchal society norms.” Mj answers the question, sounding even more serious than you thought was possible.

The four of you are left speechless, none of you really knowing how to respond to that subtly backhanded statement. Mj continues, “They’ll be ready by 8:00 though. So don’t be late.”

“Demanding much? What if we had plans on Friday?” Peter scoffs while crossing his arms over his chest.

“You two have plans on a Friday night that don’t include a lego death star?” Mj mirrors his actions, calling his bluff.

Peter trades a defeated look with Ned and drops his arms. “No.” he sighs. “Good! So like I said, 8 o’clock. You’re dismissed.” Mj asserts before waving them off.

You get a sudden jolt of confidence and shoot Peter a small smile. He gives you one in return as he walks away with Ned.

“Really?!” You slap your hand on the table as soon as you were sure the two boys were out of earshot. “I believe the words you’re looking for are “Thank you, Mj. You’re the best!” but whatever.” The sarcastic girl smiles, obviously satisfied with her ‘leadership skills’, as she likes to call it.

You could just burst with embarrassment, “Oh, I have a few words I want to say, alright.” However, the bell rings before you get the chance.

- - - - -

The final bell of the day had finally rung and you walk to your locker in a slump. You spent the last three hours replaying the impromptu game of matchmaker at lunch over and over again in your head.

I can’t believe Mj pulled that stunt, you thought, but why was he so against it? He probably doesn’t want to go with me.

You absentmindedly put away your books and shut your locker. As you begin to walk towards the exit, you don’t even realize that the boy you’re constantly thinking of was right next to you.

Peter jogs a bit to catch up with you. “Uh h-hey, Y/n.” he says timidly, his voice making you stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes widen and your legs now feel weak once you realize it’s really him. “Peter, hi!” you practically yell. Don’t seem too excited! You cringe at your eagerness before giving him a more calming, “Hi.”

The two of you chuckle at how awkward you both are. After a few seconds of silence and avoided eye contact, Peter is the first to start a conversation. “So lunch was pretty...” “Interesting?” you finish his sentence. “You read my mind.” He breathes as he looks down at his shoes.

You take this as your chance to apologize for your very bold acquaintance friend’s behavior. “I’m really really sorry about Mj. I had no idea she was going to do any of that. You and Ned don’t have to take us, if you guys don’t want to.” You manage to push out in one breath.

“No, it’s okay! I know how Mj is.” He reassures you with the sweetest smile possible. “I actually came to ask you what you’re wearing on Friday. I wouldn’t want to be underdressed.”

Heat immediately rushes to your face. This is not a drill! Okay, okay. Just breathe. Be cool. “Uhm I really haven’t given it much thought yet.” You tried your best to keep your composure despite the happiness coursing through your body.

“Oh, that’s totally cool!” Peter hesitates for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could, ya know, trade numbers and you can let me know later.”

You nod your head, maybe one too many times. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea.” You tell him, unable to hide the big smile plastered across your face.

The two of you chuckle once again at the awkward, yet somehow endearing, tension as you switch phones.

I can’t believe this is happening.

You can’t help but take notice of almost every little detail.

Peter’s phone has a screen protector, but still has a good sized crack on the top left corner.

There’s several unread messages, emails, and missed calls.

His home screen is a picture of probably the most beautiful sunset you could get in Queens. And oddly enough, the picture looks like it was taken from the very top of one of the skyscrapers.

I wonder how he got this picture.

After taking in as much as you could, you finally put in the 10 digits of your number. You simply put your name in as “Y/n” and locked the phone, handing it back to Peter, who was taking his sweet time.

Once you got back your phone, you see that he did not keep it as simple as you did. He put his contact name as “Peter :)))” and somehow managed to take and upload a contact photo as well. You smile widely at the sight on your screen.

“Awesome! So I’ll... text you later?” You say more as a question, but Peter doesn’t seem to notice this. “Yes, later! Sounds great.” He smiles as he walks backwards in the opposite direction from you.

“Y-yeah, uh, later!” You say as you copy his actions and also begin to walk backwards. “Later.” Peter gives you that smile that you love so much. You quickly turn around before he could see you blush anymore than he already has. Anyone with decent eyesight can see that you ended the day happier than you started it.

Okay, okay. Thanks, Mj.

- - - - -

“Oh what’s that, Peter? You want my number?” You say out loud, reenacting your conversation with Peter just minutes ago. The stares of strangers walking by you go unnoticed because you’re in your own little world, thinking about the boy of your dreams asking for your number!

“I mean sure, but I can’t promise I’ll get to you right away. There’s just SO many people blowing up my phone.” You say with a sigh as you dramatically place the back of your hand to your forehead. Wow, I’ve been hanging around Gwen too much.

You laugh to yourself, and continue your routine trek home until you hear a faint cry. To your right is a little girl, no older than seven years old, sitting on the stoop of these apartment buildings. You take a quick glance around, checking for any adults she might belong to. When you see no one around, you decide to check on her. With caution, you stroll over to where she’s sitting, and it was in this moment that you realize she’s cradling a small kitten.

You crouch down to her level, “Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

The young girl looks up at you with her big, tearful eyes and then back down at the kitten. You let her sniffle a few times and muster up the courage to speak. “It’s my kitty.” her voice cracks, “He’s really sick, but my mom said we can’t go to the vet.”

You look down at the poor cat. His fur is matted, his breathing is labored, and he looks as if he hasn’t been eating. You can’t help but pity the both of them.

She can barely finish her sentence before breaking down again. Instinct kicking in, you start to rub small circles on her back in order to comfort her, “Don’t cry, don’t cry. I can help him!” The child instantly perks up.

“How are you gonna do that?” She questions skeptically while simultaneously placing the small creature in your hands.

You flash a smug smile before wiggling your fingers in front of her face. “With magic.” You whisper. The little girl’s eyes sparkle as she gazes upon the purple aura beaming from your hand.

You had no problem showing off your abilities to children. With their hyperactive imaginations and short attention spans, they don’t pose a threat when it comes to exposing your secret.

Finally turning your attention to the sickly kitten once more, you press your index and middle finger to its stomach. Just as it did with Gwen earlier today, the purple energy moves from your fingers and onto the kitten. It only takes a few seconds for the cat to spring out of your hands and back to its tiny owner, moving with full strength and purring happily.

The little girl gasps in pure amazement as she picks up her cat and squeezes it to her chest. “Thank you so much! I love magic now!” She squeals, a hint of sparkle still in her eyes.

You let out a lighthearted laugh and ruffle her already messy hair a little bit. “Sure thing, hun. You take good care of him!”

“I will, I will!” She smiles brightly before rising to her feet. “Mommy, mommy! Spiderman feels better now!”

and with that, the little girl disappears through the door.

Did she really name that cat Spiderman?

You roll your eyes and shake your head before carrying on.

- - - - -

“Alice, I’m home- woah. What the hell is this?” You spit in shock at the sight in front of you.

Your Aunt Alice walks up to you and gently pulls you through the doorway. She lets out a loud over exaggerated laugh, “Y/n, we have a guest! Don’t be rude when we have a billionaire in our house.” She whispers the last part to you.

“Uh- right! My apologies. I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” You walk up to the clean cut man with an outstretched hand.

He whips his sunglasses off of his face and you immediately feel ten times more intimidated and a hundred times more confused. He pushes himself off of your couch and steps in front of you.

The man placed his firm hand in yours and gives you a subtle shake, “I know who you are, kid. I’m Tony Stark.”

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

The next part!

Okay guys that’s the end of the introduction chapter!! I hope you guys like it! I’m sorry it’s everywhere right now, but it’ll start making more sense as it goes on, like most stories do.

I’m open for some feedback!! Let me know if the chapter was too long or too short. Maybe it could use more dialogue or less dialogue. Whatever you have in mind, just please be nice!! I haven’t written a story like this since I was like 15 so I might be a little rusty. If you’re still here, thank you for reading this far!!

edit: Sorry for any typos!!

[weighty-ghosts]

‘Stolen Kisses’ (wolfstar)

Stolen Kisses, by weightyghosts

“It felt like there was a constant tension in the air, an anticipation, like they were hanging in the balance, waiting for something to push them in the right direction. The problem was, Remus didn’t know which direction was the right one.”

Rating: Teen

Word count: 2706

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published: March 3, 2021

Warnings: None

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811711

     “I can’t believe you’ve never let us visit before!”

“He’s been keeping the muggles all to himself, I tell you.”

“The height of betrayal!”

Remus rolled his eyes at his ridiculous friends as they strolled down the main road of the quaint village near his family’s house, feeling lazy and languid with the summer sun beating down on them.

“Muggles are brilliant,” James stated, his voice full of wonder as he stared with open fascination at everything there was to see. “I mean, look, look!” He stopped to point at the window of an appliance store, and Sirius peeked curiously over his shoulder, “What even is that?”

“It’s a dishwasher, James,” Remus patiently informed him.

“Wow… Brilliant, I tell you! The things muggles invent!”

“James!” Remus admonished as James’ voice had been rising to a shout, “Keep it down! What was rule #3 when I said you could visit?”

James looked back at him sheepishly and the three boys recited the third rule Remus had laid out in his last letter to them.

“‘Don’t break the International Statute of Secrecy and force the Ministry to obliviate my neighbours,’” they quoted in chorus.

“That’s right,” Remus nodded, “Now behave or I won’t show you the toy store.”

“No, ” Peter whined, “I want to find out what a kazoo is!” 

James blinked at Peter, then leaned in to Sirius to ask under his breath, “The bloody hell is a kazoo?” 

“Merlin if I know,” Sirius shrugged, “Wormtail?”

“I just said I don’t know!” 

“We’ll be good, Moony,” Sirius said to Remus with an angelic smile as they set off again down the street, “Don’t worry.”

There were a lot of things Remus had worried about when James had insisted he, Sirius, and Peter were coming to stay at the Lupin’s for a week in August, but getting into trouble wasn’t one of them; he knew it would happen regardless. Remus was more concerned about Sirius. More specifically, his inescapable feelings for Sirius.

Something had changed over the course of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and at first Remus thought it was a result of what Sirius had done the year prior; their friendship was strained and rocky for a long time afterwards, but eventually, it somehow brought them closer. The closer they got, the more Remus realized just how different his relationship with Sirius was than with anyone else. 

By the end of last term, Remus could hardly stand to be alone with him. It felt like there was a constant tension in the air, an anticipation, like they were hanging in the balance, waiting for something to push them in the right direction. The problem was Remus didn’t know which direction was the right one. 

“Let’s stop in here,” he said suddenly, desperate for a distraction, and gestured to a corner store they were walking by. “I’ll get us some lemonades.”

“Thank Merlin, it’s hot as dragon’s breath out here,” Peter complained, pulling on the collar of his shirt to try and get some air on his skin.

Remus held the door to the shop open as the others shuffled through, and Sirius winked at him as he passed. “Such a gentleman, Moony.”

“Who said chivalry is dead?” Remus replied, walking in after him, and if Remus’ cheeks were a little pink, it must have been from the sun; certainly not from Sirius winking at him.

Peter and James had quickly disappeared down one of the aisles, and Remus found himself wandering around with Sirius.

“Do you actually know what all this stuff is?” Sirius inquired, squinting at the muggle items on the shelves.

“Yes,” Remus laughed, “Of course.” There was something tugging at his heart at the sight of Sirius in such mundane surroundings; he was so out of place here, with his magic practically radiating off of him, and yet, Remus felt like it suited him, like he could naturally fit in if he wanted to. 

“I reckon James was wrong,” Sirius mused, breaking through Remus’ thoughts, as he reached out to pick something up from a shelf. “I think muggles are barmy. I mean, who would ever want beans in a can?” He showed the can to Remus as if it were an offensive old shoe. “Or corn! Why is there corn in a can, Moony?”

Remus couldn’t help the bubbles of laughter that escaped him as Sirius showed him more and more banal pieces of muggle life.

“No!” Sirius gasped, “No, tell me I’m not looking at canned tuna!”

Remus swallowed his giggles and adopted a somber demeanor, “I wouldn’t want to lie to you.” 

“Moony! That is horrifying! How does a fish even fit in that tiny thing? This is absolute madness.”

“I know you’re used to food magically appearing in front of you, Padfoot,” Remus mocked, his voice dripping with condescension, “Literally by magic, but the other half of the world has to cook it for themselves.”

“I know that!” he cried indignantly, then raised his chin in the air, “I know all about cooking, thank you. James’ mum and I cooked scones the other day.”

“Baked. You baked scones.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I said, but aren’t you impressed?”

“I am,” Remus acknowledged, pretending to focus on a box of candy rings, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Moony.”

Remus stilled and looked back at Sirius, who seemed to be standing closer to him than a moment ago. There was something about the way he spoke that made Remus think they were talking about two different things.

“Really,” Remus quipped, trying to keep his voice steady, “You think after six and a half years I don’t know everything about you?”

“I know you don’t.”

“You’re saying there are hidden depths to Sirius Black?” Remus certainly felt as if he were losing his footing and tumbling into those same depths.

“I can’t help that I’m a complex, intriguing person, Moony,” Sirius purred, his head tilted to the side.

“I suppose-”

“LADS!”

They jumped a foot in the air as James whipped around the corner with Peter in tow. Remus noticed Sirius taking a significant step backwards; he hadn’t realized they’d been leaning in so close together.

“What is it, Prongs?” Sirius asked with a smile on his face, though it seemed a little forced.

“Have you seen the crisps aisle?”

“No, we were busy looking at cans of fish.”

“What? That’s nasty- no,” James cringed but shook the unpleasant image out of his head and rallied with enthusiasm, “You have to come see all the different kinds of crisps. Pads, remember crisps? Remember we had them last summer?”

“I remember.”

“There’s a barbecue flavour! I don’t even know what barbecue is but I have to taste it! Come on!”

Sirius sent a quick smile Remus’ way and let James tug him back to the wonder that was the crisps aisle. Peter also smiled at Remus (he was always happy when James was happy), and they followed the other two boys, drawn by the excited noises they were making. Well, James was making.

“Salt and vinegar, Pads! We have to try it. Get one of each-”

“You should send some to Lily!” Peter suggested eagerly, then dropped his voice, “She’s muggleborn; I bet she loves crisps.”

James dropped the bags he was holding and grabbed Peter’s face, planting a big, sloppy kiss on each of his cheeks, much to his delight.

“Brilliant, Pete! Yes! We’ll get one of each for us, and one of each for Lily-”

“Er...James?” Remus asked hesitantly, “How are you planning on paying for all that? Did you bring any muggle money?”

James’ face fell like Remus had just told him his favourite broom had been smashed to pieces.

“I left it in my bag at your place. Oh, no! This is a disaster.”

“Relax, mate,” Sirius placated, then turned to Remus, “Can’t we take the stuff now and come back with the money later?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Remus chuckled, shaking his head at Sirius’ ignorance. 

“Well…” Sirius was looking at James’ dejected face, and Remus could see the cogs in his mind turning, thinking of possible solutions to their problem. “We could-”

“No hexing the shopkeeper!” Remus quickly interjected, peering over the shelves to the middle-aged woman reading a magazine behind the cash register.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “We’ll just have to come back later, eh James?”

“I guess,” James sighed dramatically.

“But in the meantime…” Sirius paused meaningfully, and James’ eyes began to light up at the mischievous grin on Sirius’ face, “How about a game?” Remus groaned inwardly and prayed that whatever plan he was concocting didn’t involve breaking the law; muggle or magic.

“I dare you to knick something,” Sirius challenged.

Remus should have known better.

“Knick what?” James asked, his calculating eyes darting to the items around them.

“Anything. But just one item.”

“Done,” James accepted easily, “But you have to do it too.”

“Done.”

“Wormy? Moony? Care to join in?”

Sirius laughed. “As if Moony is going to steal-”

“I’m in,” Remus announced. He smiled at Sirius’ dumbfounded expression as James convinced Peter, and Remus leaned in closer to him to whisper, “I’m a complex and intriguing person too, Padfoot. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He watched as Sirius’ eyes flicked down to his mouth, and Remus bit his bottom lip as his stomach contracted with a sudden, almost painful intensity.

“Alright!” James pronounced loudly, and Remus and Sirius jumped apart again, “Off you go, and let’s meet in the alley beside that dish-cleaner-”

“Dishwasher.”

“-Dishwasher shop,” James finished, and immediately snatched up a small bag of crisps, shoved it under his shirt, and skipped out of the store while thanking the shopkeeper for her excellent service. 

Remus and Peter were left staring at the closing door with their mouths agape. 

Sirius was smirking with pride and amusement, then turned to Peter. “Go on, Wormy,” Sirius nudged him, “Do it quickly before the nice muggle lady gets suspicious and calls the muggle Aurors on you.”

Peter gulped audibly, sweat starting to drip down his temples, and turned frantically down the next aisle.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you, honestly.”

Sirius grinned at Remus. “Because life is always interesting when I’m around, Moons.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Remus teased, his stomach doing another flip at the other boy’s brilliant smile. They began to meander through the shop as nonchalantly as possible, and again Remus felt like he was standing at a crossroads with Sirius; torn between two paths, two possible directions with two different outcomes, and someone had to make a choice before it was too late.  

“So,” Sirius stopped abruptly and turned to face Remus, “Have you decided?”

“What?” Remus asked sharply, having a wild thought that Sirius had somehow read his mind.

“Have you decided what you’re going to knick?”

“Oh, right, maybe-”

“You going to pay for that, then?”

Sirius and Remus swiftly stood on their tiptoes to look over to where Peter was frozen in front of the door to the shop, beet red, with a package of black licorice sticking out of his back pocket. The woman was leaning casually over the cash register, gazing at Peter with a mixture of exasperation and entertainment. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Peter squeaked, as he whipped the licorice out and threw it on the counter, “I’m sorry! I don’t want- I’m not- I- Sorry!” And he ran out the door. 

Sirius burst out laughing, and Remus tried to shush him so as not to draw attention, although he knew the woman was already watching them closely.

“Hush, Sirius!” Remus' voice shook as he tried to contain his own laughter.

“Poor Pete,” Sirius crowed, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “He’s never very good under pressure is he?”

“You are a terrible person.”

“Good thing you love me anyway,” he grinned. 

Remus watched as Sirius realized what he’d said, his cheeks flushing pink and his smile wavering, and he tried to lean coolly against a shelf of sweets. Remus wished he knew what to say, although he was pretty sure his throat was closing up on him so he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. They stood awkwardly looking at their feet, waiting again, waiting for a push in the right direction.

“You know, it’s now or never, Moony.”

Remus’ head whipped up and he stared into Sirius’ striking eyes.

“N-now or never?” 

“Yeah, you better choose quick,” Sirius explained, his voice low, and Remus once again felt as if they were talking about something else. “What are you doing to take, Moony?” 

Remus didn’t have to ask Sirius what he would steal; he had snatched up Remus’ heart long ago. With that realization, he knew what to do; Remus had to be the one to choose which direction was right, and he had to be the one to push them towards it.

He glanced around them for a moment, then slowly stepped up in front of Sirius, bringing them almost toe to toe. He reached forward, his eyes sliding from Sirius’ to the shelf over his shoulder, and he heard Sirius’ breath catch as he leaned close, close enough to feel the warmth from each other’s bodies, and smell the sweat on each other’s skin. 

Remus was acutely aware of Sirius’ eyes on him as he kept moving until they were almost cheek to cheek, and he turned his head at the last second, capturing Sirius’ lips in a quick kiss that tasted like honey and summer.

He pulled back, grinning at Sirius’ shocked face, and turned away abruptly, leaving Sirius standing there stunned. He floated over to the refrigerators, feeling like he was flying on the fastest of brooms, and grabbed four lemonades. He brought them to the counter, where the woman eyed him with suspicion, before smiling knowingly when Remus overpaid for the drinks and told her to keep the change. 

Sirius, still slightly dazed, followed Remus out of the shop and around the corner to the alley where James and Peter were waiting. Peter was leaning against the wall, trying to calm his breathing, and James was patting his shoulder comfortingly, biting his cheek to try and stop from laughing.

“He’ll be fine,” James reassured.

“Have a lemonade, Pete,” Remus said, holding one out to him, which Peter accepted gratefully. Remus handed a bottle to James, then to Sirius, who blinked up at him as he accepted his drink, his face soft and vulnerable.

“So?” James inquired, “What’d you steal, then?” 

“Er,” Sirius cleared his throat and looked over at James, “Muggle chewing gum.” 

“Nice. And you, Moony?”

Sirius glanced at Remus nervously, but Remus simply put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, holding it up for them to see, smiling wryly.

“Ha!” James laughed, “Of course.” He threw his arm around Peter to steady him, and guided him out of the alley, muttering affirmations as they started down the street towards the toy shop Remus had promised to take them to.

“When did you grab that?” Sirius quietly asked when they were alone, walking at a distance from the other two.

“When I was stealing something else.”

He looked over at Sirius to see him smiling almost shyly, something Remus had rarely seen before, and he knew he would never tire of it; that private smile, one that was just for him. 

“It can’t have been better than the chocolate you swiped, though,” Sirius quipped.

“It might’ve been,” he teased.

“Probably difficult to compare,” Sirius tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes full of mischief, “When you only had a quick taste... Sounds like we should do a more thorough test, Moony.” 

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, his mind reeling and cheeks flushing at the implications, “Yeah, I think we should, Padfoot”

Remus brushed his hand against Sirius’, leaving a tingling sensation along his skin as they hurried to catch up to James and Peter. He was warm all over, not just from the brilliant sun high above them, and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, feeling confident that the path he was finally leading them down was the right one.

*

[wonniexy]

# SPRING AND PUPS | park jay.

PARK JAY, SPRING SMILES EVENT: MAY 24, 1.4k WORDS, FLUFF, BEST FRIENDS AU, WARNING: NONE.

Spring became your favorite season in fourth grade, when a child not much taller than you were at the time strolled into your classroom, exactly thirteen days after classes began, and introduced himself as "Jay, from Seattle." Not a word more (despite him being something of a talker, you discovered days later), not a word less.

He had a black backpack over his shoulders, as if to distinguish himself from the masses of what were mere nine-year-olds, a small white bunny puppet hung from one side of his zipper, and his school uniform seemed to fit him far too big, so much so that you asked yourself if they had gotten his size wrong.

If spring didn't become your favorite season at that exact moment, you're more than convinced it surely happened always because of Jay.

You can thank his smile, your long conversations about this and that (starting with cherry blossoms on your lunch breaks and ending with why his favorite books should be placed on the top shelf of your bedroom bookshelf), his constant stroking of your head with his right hand, the way he enters your house without even knocking anymore and the way he stops by for dinner every Friday night, then stays over in the guest room (which might as well be his by now) after watching a movie with your entire family and making bets with your dad about what team will win the Sunday soccer game.

You can thank his existence itself and what he's become to you in such a short time that it was almost hard for you to notice.

"Can I touch them?" Jay asks, in a whisper; a faint whisper due to two baby rabbits who seem to be sleeping the first of many quieter sleeps of what will be their lives from this day forward.

"It might be best to wait a while, Jay." You answer, eyes glued to the little bodies of the two pets. They're so cuddly, with their little eyes closed and tummies going up and down rhythmically and steadily. "They're newborns and I think the mother needs to confirm that she has them under control." You continue, pointing your index finger at the larger rabbit, almost anchored to her pups. "Just for a few days, at least."

Jay sighs and, returning to the child he's always been, crosses his arms and rises from his position. "It's not fair; I don't think I can wait. I even dressed for the occasion!"

You can hear all of his disappointment in his words. Jay loves animals, especially rabbits.

You're suddenly reminded of the day when, three years after your friendship began, he first brought you to this place, for the sole reason that you had asked him why he never broke away from the same white stuffed rabbit you had seen him bring with him on his first day of school in your elementary days.

He had shown you all the rabbits there were, taught you their names ("most of them were made up by me" - not true) and then gave you an in-depth lecture (as in-depth as a middle schooler's lecture could be) on how those animals lived, how to care for them, and so many other things.

You still remember the warmth and happiness placed in his eyes as he spoke.

You laugh a little at his words, following his moves and rolling your eyes. "All you did was wear sweatpants and sneakers, Jay."

"When I could just as well have been wearing my favorite shirt and my everyday dress shoes, you should add!" 

"Dress shoes are not everyday shoes." You say, shaking your head and shifting your gaze from your friend to the bunnies that, underneath, you'd also like to cuddle immediately. "I still find it amazing that Lily became a mom, you know?"

"You said the same thing about Phoebe last year." Jay laughs, softly. "But I can relate. We grew up watching Phoebe and Lily be born and, now, we're watching them become moms to some beautiful puppies. Time goes by so fast..."

"Don't start crying, now, though." You look at him, barely holding back a laugh.

Jay Park is your best friend. You like the way he expresses himself, how sunny he is, how dramatic he is, and how willing he is to talk about anything. Jay really is your best friend and, perhaps, you are the only one who knows where to hit him without hurting him, just as he knows where to hit you without hurting you.

The boy turns to you and raises his eyebrows a little. If, in fourth grade, you could look him in the eye with no problem at all, now it's hard not to raise your head a little so you don't have to come face to face with his chin.

"I could and there would be no harm in it." He says, and then gives you one of his classic tongue-in-cheeks.

"Childish." You mockingly hit Jay's head with one hand as a familiar voice comes from behind you and your best friend turns in the direction of Mrs. Hong, Jay's neighbor and owner of all the rabbits in the garden. You've counted them all, you and Jay, and taking into account the two newborns, they total thirty-eight.

"Are you two still bickering?" You hear her laugh. For a little woman over eighty, her laugh is loud, but very pleasant to the ear.

"We're just keeping Lily and the puppies company." You say, before Jay can even open his mouth to fake cry in front of Mrs. Hong about the blow to the head you just gave him.

"They're gorgeous, aren't they?"

"They're a wonder." Jay replies, approaching the cage again and lowering himself onto his knees. "They look so...peaceful. Serene. I don't believe in miracles, but after all the suffering our Lily went through..."

You see him stick out his index finger and gently stroke Mama Rabbit's fur from outside the cage. Lily is half awake, as if trying to keep an eye on the pups, but she seems to let go of the contact of Jay's skin with her snow-white fur.

"She's been strong." Mrs. Hong says, nodding and taking you under her arm. "She did really well."

"We knew she could do it." You squeeze the woman's arm a little tighter, making eye contact with Jay and smiling broadly.

Jay nods at your words, then turns one last time to the bunnies and stands up.

"Have you thought of names to give the rabbits yet, Mrs. Hong?" He asks, approaching you and shaking some dirt off his pants.

"I was hoping you could do it this time. I know you've done it before, in the past, but I want these two new entries to be yours. Yours and special."

"Ours meaning that we'll be the ones caring for them? Ours meaning that we will be their current owners? Ours meaning that-"

"Jay!"

Mrs. Hong laughs at the happiness that Jay exudes, from the words that flow relentlessly from his mouth and from his entire body. He almost seems to want to jump to exaltation. "Yes, little Park. Yours."

You both jump to hug the woman, thanking her and thanking her and thanking her again, and then hugging each other and screaming like crazy. You're both happier than you've ever been, you might even say.

When you break away, you go to crouch down in front of the cage where the two baby rabbits are still sleeping blissfully and where Lily, the new mom, seems to be holding them close to her.

"Hey babies, hi!" You begin, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head here and there. "We are your new owners! I'm y/n and this right here is Jay!"

Jay laughs at the way you interact with the two pups and lightly taps you with his elbow. "If I were them, I wouldn't want you as my owner." He laughs.

You turn to face him, smiling falsely at him, only to hit him much harder with your own elbow, nearly knocking him over.

"I choose my future baby first." You say, blowing.

"Go ahead," Jay laughs at your action, "but at least make sure to pick a cute name too - you kind of suck at that stuff."

This time, Jay actually finds himself with his body slammed into the ground.

You burst out laughing, and he does as well, struggling to get up. He definitely wants to cry.

"Not so sure about the everyday dress shoes now, huh?"

[highpope]

Silver Keys - Chapter Five

JJ Maybank x OC x Topper Thorton Soulmate AU

warnings: none, let me know if there ever are :)

notes: first, I know this took agesssss I'm sorry but I've been sitting on a couple chapters so you guys should be getting some updates for a while. Second, I lost my tag lists. so lmk if you want added to this one or my general tag list. I've been writing a lot more to cope with my anxiety so... things are coming bahaha. Love you guys, thanks for your support recently - J

Silver Keys Masterlist

June probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone besides her sister and Kie, but going out with Topper was fun. When he had asked her out to have dinner at the country club, she was worried she wouldn’t fit in at all. June was convinced she’d make it about 15 minutes before she bailed and met everyone back at the Chateau. She had on shoes she could barely walk in and a dress she found at goodwill, no doubt someone’s from a homecoming dance in years past and she was fighting the urge to pull her hair up all night. But then she realized they had talked straight through appetizers, dinner, and the waiter had come by twice for the check. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable understanding with each other that had continued into the following weeks.

He picked her up from work on most days, driving around in search of the perfect chocolate chip cookie. June argues that the small bakery run out of one of the local’s houses has the best cookies, but Topper is determined to try every option before making a decision. It had started as kind of a joke, but now it was just an excuse for them to hang out.

Currently, they were at the island’s movie night, chairs propped up near the back and various snacks shared between the two of them. Topper’s arm rested on her shoulders, something she had become accustomed to the past few weeks. June found herself more relaxed with him, it was easy being with Topper. She didn’t have to think or worry, June could just be.

They were playing The Sandlot, arguably the best movie of all time and June had to hold back from saying the iconic lines with the characters. She had grown up watching this movie with her sister and had practically begged Topper to go see it.

“Really?” He had asked the day before, “The movie nights aren’t really our thing.”

“Yeah, that’s because you guys always cause trouble and then get kicked out.”

He shook his head.

“Yes, you do. Besides, you’re gonna be with me and I am a model citizen.”

He laughed then and again in the chair beside her now.

She found herself leaning into him naturally, even with the arms of both their chairs in between them. It was something she had never had previously. June didn’t do relationships. In high school, she mostly stuck with the pogues and focused on school and not getting in trouble with the cops. Sure, she had the occasional crush or hookup with a touron, but nothing was ever serious. Not that this was, but it was closer to that than anything else June had experienced.

The next morning June had her last piano rehearsal with Mrs. Hana before the recital. The Saturday coming up was the big dress rehearsal. The one with the kids from all over the island and hundreds of different schools and programs. And the weekend following that was the recital. Her whole family was going. Her dad had even surprised her by getting a hotel room for all of them and making a whole trip about it. He had to work night shifts for two weeks, but he assured her it was worth it. Not that that added any pressure.

At rehearsal, June played nearly perfectly. She had only messed up a couple of notes near the end. She’d be lucky if Saturday went as smoothly as this. Mrs. Hana corrected her posture and made her go from the top. They went on like this the whole lesson: June playing and her correcting one thing at a time before making her start over. Normally, June would argue, but she knew it was because Mrs. Hana understood how important this was. This could set her future up, get her off the island if she wanted. She could do something she loved every day.

The night before the recital, June was laying on a hammock in John B’s backyard.

“Nervous?” Kie questions.

June shrugged, “Kinda, yeah.”

“I’m sure you’re going to do fine,” Pope said with confidence. It was only the three of them. John B and JJ had ventured out to get snacks and beer but hadn’t been back for an hour. June’s guess was they found a party and couldn’t bother to text an update. That or they got arrested. Which probably would’ve earned a phone call quicker than the first option. She chuckled thinking about this.

“It’s just a rehearsal and Liv is driving down with me so I don’t really have anything to worry about.”

“You seem to have this all figured out,” he said with a laugh.

Kie said, “And I cannot wait to celebrate when you get back! It’s gonna be so fun.”

June could only imagine what her best friend was thinking when she said this. She was sure it would end like most nights did, tipsy and watching movies on John B’s couch. Her favorite way to end a day. The three of them drift into a comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts. June starts to hear a familiar melody, but can’t quite put her finger on it. She was sure it wasn’t anything she had chosen to listen to, but couldn’t figure out where she had heard it before.

She was brought back to reality when John B and JJ come strutting into the yard, cases of beer on their shoulders and grocery bags in their hands. Kie and June both started cheering.

They set down the stuff on the closest table.

“What took so long?” Pope asked, getting up and rummaging through the bags. He pulls out a bag of chips before turning around.

“You’re not even going to believe it.” John B starts, taking a seat.

“Hey,” JJ yelled at June, “Gummies?” He asks and holds up a bag of gummy worms.

She nods her head and he tosses them over before grabbing his own snack and beer and joining her on the hammock. They all listen to JB’s story, JJ adding in his own variations and making everyone laugh.

“And who ended up being in front of us at the grocery store?” He paused for dramatic effect, “Sarah Cameron.”

June realized a beat late that she was supposed to be reacting, “Sarah Cameron!” she repeated.

JJ turned his head to keep from laughing.

“Am I supposed to be excited?” Kie asked, an annoyed expression on her face. She and Sarah used to be friends before they drifted into different friend groups.

“Yes, Kie. It was like fate.”

JJ spoke up, “I would hardly call it fate.”

John B just rolled his eyes at his friends and took another drink.

“What happened to Molly Fields?” Pope questioned. That was the girl we had gone to elementary school with, the latest victim of John B’s soulmate search.

“Nah,'' he dismissed, “This one’s different.”

“Well, I hope it is, JB,” June spoke up. He looked over and smiled at her.

The next morning June and Olivia jump in the car and start towards the concert hall where her dress rehearsal was being held. She had been up for hours, too excited and nervous to sleep. June had gotten ready, done her makeup, changed three times, and called Topper twice all before Olivia had even woken up. Downstairs, their mom had made some breakfast and June couldn’t bear to tell her she was too nervous to eat anything. So, she grabbed a pancake and thanked her parents.

They listened to music the whole way down, Liv was always determined to get June to listen to the most mainstream pop music she could. She always argued that she wouldn’t understand anyone’s references and it would be an embarrassing mess. June made sure to point out that she had made it 18 years without that ever happening, but nonetheless she persisted.

When they arrived, they parked the car and decided to window shop. They were still about an hour early from call time and Liv was restless enough as it was. June was trying to push her nerves down. She didn’t want to come across that way to the instructors. June had a vision that she would walk across the stage, take a deep breath, and be transported by the music. She didn’t want to have the weight of the competition on her shoulders or the constant confusion about her soulmate circling in her head. That was a new development. June found herself lying awake at night going over everything Topper had said or done and trying to place it into this mysterious soulmate cut out she had in her head. She was trying to do a puzzle with the wrong number of pieces. And she wasn’t even sure if it was the right picture on the box.

….

“Okay, turning the key a bunch of times isn’t going to do any good if the battery is dead,” Olivia said, snapping her head to look at June from the passenger side.

After the dress rehearsal, June had called Liv and the two of them had eaten in the cafeteria with a few other performers. June was practically glowing after being there for a few hours, she couldn’t imagine how she would feel at the actual recital. Everything was going perfectly.

Until they got back to the car and realized the battery was dead.

“Well,” June sighed, “I don’t know what else to do.” Her voice pinched.

“Can’t we call a mechanic?”

“Liv, you know we can’t afford that. Especially in this area. We just need a jump.”

She surveyed the empty parking lot and tried to think of what to do without panicking. They were too far from home to have someone just pick them up and there were no cars in sight. Even if there were, they didn’t have any jumper cables. Maybe they could take the bus home and get help tomorrow. June probably had enough cash in her purse for two bus tickets.

“Isn’t there like a trick with distilled water? That could get us somewhere.”

“You think I have distilled water in my car? Besides, I have no idea how to do that.”

“I’m just trying to give you ideas here,” Olivia said, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

June leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking and thinking.

She was interrupted when Olivia opened the driver’s side door and handed her the phone, “here.”

Confused, June lifted the phone to her ear, “hello?”

“June? What’s going on?” JJ’s voice was on the other end.

“J, we’re fine. Just a little car trouble.” She rolled her eyes at her sister.

“We’re stranded!” Olivia yelled so that he could hear.

“We’re fine,” she said, shooting her sister a look.

JJ speaks up, “Doesn’t sound fine. June, I’ll just come out and help. No problem.”

“No, no. We just need a jump-”

“I’m already in the car, just send me your location.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to.”

Defeated, June agrees and sends him the address of the music hall.

About 45 minutes later, JJ pulls into the parking spot opposite of them, “Hey,” he says as he turns the key and gets out of the car.

“Oh thank god! JJ, do you have AC? I’m melting.” Olivia yells. She’s already getting in his truck and rotating the fans to blow her hair back before he can process what she’s just said.

“I’m sorry,” June starts, but he interrupts her.

“Eh, no big deal”

“I can give you gas money for coming all the way out here.”

He shakes his head, “Nah. Here catch.” JJ throws one end of the jumper cables to her, “You know how to put them on?”

June scoffs, “This isn’t my first jump, Maybank.”

Once everything is sorted out with June’s car, the three of them drive to the nearest ice cream shop. Mostly because Olivia was being dramatic and promised to pay for herself, but also to thank JJ for driving the whole way out here just to get them home.

“I don’t know, it’s like what if my soulmate doesn’t like ice cream? Ew, or worse, orders mint chocolate chip.” Olivia said as they headed to a table outside. The spot they had picked was really nice, there were picnic tables with umbrellas lined up on a patio in front of the window they had ordered from.

June just laughed, a conversation the two of them had had more than once.

“What’s wrong with mint chocolate chip?” JJ asked.

Olivia made a face, “only everything.”

“Isn’t the whole point of a soulmate that you overlook those flaws and-”

“Please. Don’t lecture me.” She begs.

“She’s kinda right though,” JJ replies, looking at June for a second and scrunching his nose. She smiles back, looking down at her ice cream.

“Have you heard it?” She asks him.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “the other night at John B’s.” He meets June’s eyes. “I fell asleep on the pullout and the storm woke me up. So I was just laying awake and that’s when I heard it. It was really faint. Mad weird though,” He finished and took a bite of his ice cream, making June shudder.

She remembered the night he was talking about. It had stormed for about two days last week. She thought about what she was probably doing at the time, practicing for the recital, maybe reading until

she drifted off.

“Do you think you know who it is?” Olivia inquired.

He shook his head, “No, haven’t thought about it.”

“You don’t wanna know?”

“I mean, sure. But if I’m gonna find out anyway by force of,” he struggled for the right word before landing on, “the universe, then why stress right now?”

That answer seemed to have satisfied her enough because she nodded her head and stopped asking questions.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, June had a phone call.

The three of them had left shortly after ice cream, JJ following them most of the way back before he went off towards John B’s and June continued straight, with a quick wave behind her.

Olivia had practically jumped out of the car before she had even parked so now, June answered her phone, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Hey,”

“Hey!” Topper said on the other end, “I wanted to see how everything went. I stopped by your house just a little bit ago, but your car wasn’t in front.”

June groaned, “That’s because we just now pulled in. The practice was great! Everyone was so talented and I got to meet a couple of instructors. It was really cool.”

“That’s amazing, bub.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

“What took you so long getting home?”

“Oh, uh. I just had some car trouble, no biggie.”

“Oh, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just needed a quick jump and then we were on our way.” June chuckled, nervously. She hadn’t even thought to call Topper when her car wouldn’t start. Truthfully she hadn’t thought to call anyone, but she still felt nervous to tell him what happened.

“So someone had cables? That’s pretty lucky.” He pressed.

“Uhm. No, actually. We had to call JJ for some help and then we were good to go. It drove perfectly on the way home.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, “You could’ve called or texted me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I wasn’t even the one who called JJ, it was Liv.”

“Well, I could’ve helped.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I would’ve called a mechanic for you, had someone come out and get you.”

“And I would have really appreciated it,” June laughed nervously, “Next time I promise I will call you.”

He stayed silent for a long time before speaking, “It’s just your first thought wasn’t to call your boyfriend. Forgive me if I’m a little upset.”

She pondered over his words for a moment, skipping over the mention of ‘boyfriend,’ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “yeah, you’re right. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

June nodded even though he couldn’t see her and hung up the phone. She huffed, threw her phone in her bag, and marched up the sidewalk inside.

[bokutosbubblebutt]

Drama Queen

- Satoru Gojo

This is based on a headcanon I wrote

Click here to read it

•—————•

While you checked some reports, which you had to give to the principal, you were walking trough the halls of the Jujutsu Academy Tokyo. You were not really a teacher, more like a therapist for the students because the principal wanted someone who they can talk to besides their official teachers. It’s not like you couldn’t teach how to be a jujutsu sorcerer but after you graduated, you wanted to become a therapist instead.

„Good Morning, Y/N Sensei!“ Yuji greeted you with an annoyed tone in his voice. Confused you looked at the three students, who were supposed to have a class right now. „It’s 8:47 am, I mean we all know that Saturo can be late sometimes but that’s a bit too much!“

„We know, we already asked in the office if he gonna show up but they said, we just have to wait a bit longer.“ Nobora explained and rolled her eyes.

„Oh, okay I understand! I will look after him, maybe he has overslept or something.“ The three thanked you and sat down again to wait. You went back to the dorm rooms to search your coworker.

You knew Satoru for several years now. Back when you went to the academy he was a class above you and you two trained a lot together. And in the last few years you managed to stay in touch and sometimes went out to eat together.

His and your friends always spread rumors that you two were dating or had something like friends with benefits but none of them were true. Yeah, Satoru was nice, funny and had charm, the fact that he was attractive was obvious and he knew that but at the end you were just pretty close friends.

Slightly you knocked on his door and waited a few seconds but there was no answer. Again you knocked a bit louder this time but again no answer. Carefully you opened the door, since it’s literally never looked, and you walked into a dimmed room. The air was hot in here and it slightly smelled in it. You walked over to his big bed and found a sleeping Satoru in it. Just his white hair was visible and the rest was covered with his blanket. You always wondered how the blanket could fit over his body, since this man is a human giraffe.

Has he really overslept?

Annoyed you squated down and slightly touched his shoulder to wake him up but he didn’t move. He snored a bit and his breath sounded heavy. „Hey, dumbass!“ you said. „You have classes to teach.“

„I can’t.“ he whisperd and still didn’t moved. „I‘m dying.“ After that he coughed dramatically.

„Seriously? Don’t be such a drama queen!“ you frowned and stood up again. Annoyed you put your arms on the side of your hips and looked down to him. Slowly he turned around because he was facing the wall before. Again he coughed a few times and looked up to you with tired eyes.

„I‘m sick, I‘m gonna die.“ he whimpered and looked almost sad. You just breathed out and grabbed the bridge of your nose. Again he coughed and after that he sneezed two times.

„Okay, just let me check if you have a fever.“ You squated down and your cold hands met his warm forehead. He really had a fever and now you felt kinda bad for him. But then you remembered that he’s a grown man and he could have just simply took a few pain killers and then move on with his day.

„You didn’t even called you sick at the office, your students are waiting since 8 am.“ you explained and let your cold fingers trace over his red cheeks.

„I couldn’t get up and my phone is on my desk.“ he giggled a bit embarrassed and closed his eyes again. „Fucking idiot.“

Quickly you pulled your phone out of your pocket and called him sick for the day. After that you stood up and opened a window that at least a bit fresh air can get into his room. You were about to open the door but suddenly he raised his voice. „Wait, what are you doing? You really wanna let me die?“

„Satoru, I need to take care of your class! They are waiting.“ - „You really wanna let me die alone, hu? Suffer in my own pain? Okay, I understand.“ he answered overdramatized and coughed loudly. „And who will take care of your Class, idiot?“

„I don’t know, ask Kento or tell them they have free today. I just don’t wanna be alone.“ the last sentence he whispered softly and turned around to face the wall. You almost felt bad for him. „Ahh, okay, just let me call him.“ You didn’t believe yourself that you really said yes to this dumbass.

„Uh, Kento, you have to do me a favor, please!“ you asked in your nicest tone possible. „Satoru is sick and someone needs to do his classes today.... I know, I know I could do them but someone is a little bitch and doesn’t want to be alone...“ Suddenly satoru threw a shoe at you but missed. „If you can throw that fucking shoe then you are not that sick!“ you frowned and he just coughed dramatically. „Pleeease? Itadori misses you by the way!... Really? You are the best! Thank you!“

„You should be glad that he really said yes, idiot.“ - „Thank you!“ he mumbled into his pillow and turned around that he could lay on his stomach. „And what do you want me to do now?“ you asked and closed the window again. After that you took of your shoes and threw your jacket over his chair.

„I don’t know, just be with me, please.“ he said softly and turned his head to face you. „Okay, first of all i will make you a cup of tea and bring you some pills against the fever. I‘ll be right back.“

Your dorm room was only two minutes away from him and you went there only wearing socks and a tank top. Gladly you bought a little kitchen once so you could make a cup of tea and grabbed some pills. After five minutes you went back only to see a half naked Satoru sitting on his bed. It looks like he only slept in underwear which made you swallow hard.

He was skinny but had a slight sixpack and his biceps was also toned. You already saw him like this a few times but it’s always a bit overwhelming how attractive he is. „I, I made you black tea.“ you stuttered and sat down next to him on his bed.

„Stop staring!“ he smirked and grabbed the tea out of your hand. „I‘m not staring, dumbass!“ Sadly your cheeks slightly turned to a pinkish tone and you turn your face away. „Just take this pill, it will help against your fever.“ - „Thank you! I was sweating the whole night and then I took my shirt off.“ he explained and then took the pill. After that he placed the cup next to the nightstand next to his bed. He had to bend over you and took the chance to place his hand on your thigh.

He slowly slid down so that he can lay again. With puppy eyes he looked at you and you just put your cold fingers around his face to cool it down. Since he still has his hand on your thigh he pulled your leg closer to use it as a pillow. „You are an Idiot!“ you giggled and traced your thumb over his sharp jawline. „I know!“ he just answered and closed his eyes.

For a while you two were just resting there in silence. You, playing with his hair and letting your knuckles slide over his shoulders back to his cheekbones and he, just resting there, sometimes coughing and pulling your thigh closer to him.

„Y/N?“ he suddenly broke the silence. „Wanna watch a movie?“ You slightly nodded and he started to move. Carefully he bended over you and grabbed the remote. He turned the tv on and searched some movie on Netflix.

„If I‘m gonna get sick, I’ll kill you!“ you giggled and also slid down to have a more comfortable position. This time he placed his arm behind your shoulders and pulled you close. Your head was resting on his bare chest now and he played with your hair. „Don’t worry I will take care of you.“ he chuckled and looked down at you. „Hell nah! I wanna die alone.“

„Yeah, yeah I love you too!“

Masterlist

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Alternate Universe requested by anon

The first thing Freddie noticed when he woke up was that he was wearing waders.

This was most peculiar. He never wore waders. The only person in Garden Lodge who wore waders was Jim for when he was cleaning out the koi pool. Freddie would sometimes throw them on as a joke, laughing at how they were too big for him; but today, to his surprise, they fitted perfectly. Even stranger was the pair of large wellington boots he was sporting on his feet, caked in mud and the most hideous shade of green. This was an outfit he wouldn’t be seen dead in, let alone asleep in.

What the hell is going on? He thought to himself as he stumbled out of bed, only realising once he was at the door that this wasn’t his bedroom at all. It was much smaller, with hideous peeling wallpaper and a tiny, single bed crammed in the corner. The place reeked of an odour that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It almost smelled like… dog.

This was either an elaborate prank or some horrific dream, Freddie decided as he quickly descended the staircase, hoping that he might suddenly snap out of this nightmare if he ran into a familiar face. He heard Phoebe’s voice coming from the lounge downstairs and he quickly made a beeline for the room, desperately throwing open the door.

‘Phoebe, something weird is going on!’ He declared, only to stop in his tracks when he saw the other man.

Phoebe was… working out. Lifting weights, more specifically. In all the years that Freddie had known him, he had never seen Phoebe lift weights. Even more shocking was that the usually chubby man was now built like a tank. It was so surreal it was almost disturbing. Phoebe was a round, jolly guy who loved his food and never worried too much about his body image. This guy on the other hand...

‘What is it now?’ Phoebe sighed and set his weights down, flexing his huge bicep. ‘Shouldn’t you be out doing the garden? The boss is going to kill you if he catches you slacking.’

‘The garden?’ Freddie replied, appalled. ‘Why would I be doing the garden? That’s Jim’s job!’

Phoebe rolled his eyes. ‘Very funny, Freddie. Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of something.’

Freddie opened his mouth to protest but Phoebe had already gone back to his weights and started lifting again. Annoyed, the singer turned and stormed out of the room, unable to believe how rude and dismissive his friend was being. And what was all this about “the boss”? Freddie was the boss!

Maybe Joe could shed some light on what was going on. Freddie quickly made his way to the kitchen, where he found the American in the midst of baking a cake, carefully sieving flour into a large bowl.

‘Joe-’ he began, only for the other man to shriek, flour flying everywhere until half the kitchen looked like a Christmas card.

‘Oh, it’s you, Fred.’ Joe clutched his chest dramatically, his glasses completely white. ‘What are you doing here? You should have finished the garden ages ago.’

‘Why does everyone keep banging on about the garden?’ Freddie grumbled, angrily wiping flour off his moustache. ‘And since when are you so easily startled? You nearly shat yourself!’

Joe looked slightly annoyed – at least, Freddie assumed he did, as he couldn’t really see his face under all the flour – ‘you know what a scaredy-cat I am, Freddie. The smallest drop of blood and I’m passed out on the floor. It’s a curse, really.’

Alright, whoever this was, it definitely wasn’t Joe. No way in hell was this the same Joe who, only last week, savagely beat a wasp to death with the kitchen mop, then left its severed head on the kitchen windowsill as a warning to the other wasps.

‘God, look at this mess.’ Joe rushed to the kitchen cupboard and took out a broom, sweeping up the mess on the floor. ‘When the boss sees this, he’ll break my neck!’

‘What are you on about?’ Freddie snarled, ready to tear his hair out. ‘I’m the boss! This is my house!’

‘I’m really not in the mood for jokes right now, Freddie.’ Joe replied, not even looking up at him. ‘Hurry up and get the garden finished, otherwise we’ll all be in the doghouse.’

Freddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Whatever parallel universe he was trapped in, he wanted out right now. But Joe had already turned his attention to cleaning up the mess, so Freddie had no choice but to leave him to it and trudge out into the garden.

He took a moment to survey the area; he didn’t know the first thing about gardening, despite sometimes watching Jim while he was working and occasionally helping him plant seedlings for his favourite flowers. He noticed a rake laying nearby and decided to start by raking the leaves off the lawn. How hard could it be?

--

‘Freddie? Freddie! Where have you got to?’

The sound of Jim’s voice echoing across the garden alerted Freddie, and he almost tumbled right off the ladder he had been balancing on to trim the hedges. He had never realised gardening was so much work; he was covered from head to foot in soil, his waders ruined and his hair dripping wet from when he had attempted to reposition the stone bowl in the koi pool, only to fall in face first. But none of that mattered now. Jim was here. His wonderful Irish husband was here, and he was going to sort this horrible mess out.

‘Jim!’ He cried as he entered the conservatory and found the Irishman standing there, looking unusually solemn. He immediately threw his arms around his neck. ‘Jim, I’m so glad to see you! You won’t believe the day I’ve had-’

He was cut off as Jim abruptly pushed him away; taken by surprise, Freddie didn’t have time to steady himself and ended up on the floor.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!’ Jim barked, wiping off the dirt that had smudged all over his expensive looking shirt. ‘You really think that’s an acceptable way to behave with your boss? You should know your place by now, Mercury!’

Freddie stared at him from where he sat on the floor, dumbfounded. What was going on? Why was Jim treating him like this? There had to be some mistake.

‘Jim,’ he said softly, his eyes large and confused, ‘it’s me.’

‘Yes, it is. Unfortunately.’ Jim huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘For God’s sake, you’re filthy! And what the hell have you done to my garden?’

Freddie glanced out of the conservatory window, noting the misshapen hedges, the large holes in the lawn from where he had clumsily attempted to plant flowers, and the overturned stone bowl in the koi pool which miraculously hadn’t crushed any of the fish. Gardening clearly wasn’t his forte.

‘I-I did my best.’ Freddie insisted nervously.

‘A blind monkey could have done a better job.’ Jim snapped, crossing over to the drinks cabinet and pouring himself a glass of whiskey. ‘I sometimes wonder why I keep you on, Mercury. You’re absolutely useless.’

Freddie felt the colour drain out of his face. This wasn’t the Jim he loved. This man was cruel and demeaning, treating him like he was nothing more than mud beneath his shoe. His sweet and lovely Jim would never do this.

‘Jim, please!’ Freddie scrambled to his feet, grabbing Jim’s sleeve desperately before he could take a swig of his drink. ‘It’s me, Freddie. Your husband.’

Jim scoffed, shrugging the Persian off as if he were an annoying fly. ‘Husband? Sorry Mercury, but I don’t bat for your team. I don’t know what sort of weird obsession you have with me, but you’d better stop it. I won’t have any of that queer shit in my house.’

His house? What did he mean, his house? This was their house. Well, legally it was Freddie’s, but he had always considered it Jim’s home as much as his own. Tears rushed to Freddie’s eyes. This couldn’t be real. Any moment now, he would wake up and find out this was all just an awful dream.

‘Jim, I’m telling the truth! I’m your husband!’ Freddie rambled, heart breaking as Jim rolled his eyes in disgust and took another sip of whiskey. ‘Look, you bought that ring on your finger to show your commitment to me! And you bought one for me too, right here-’

He went to show Jim the ring on his right hand, only to find his finger bare. He immediately panicked. Where was it? Had he lost it? Had it fallen into the koi pool during the incident with the stone bowl? Had someone stolen it?

‘I’m not sure what planet you’re living on, Mercury.’ Jim finished his drink in a single gulp, completely ignoring Freddie’s distress. ‘But I bought this ring to show my commitment to my fiancée, not you.’

‘Your fiancée?’ Freddie could feel the walls closing in around him; in that moment, his entire world shattered and suddenly his lungs were fighting for air. ‘But who-?’

‘Oh, Jiiiim!’ The sound of the front door closing came from the hallway; moments later, the conservatory door swung open, and a familiar blond woman strode inside, laden down with dozens of shopping bags.

Freddie’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. ‘Mary?’

Mary pulled down her sunglasses a moment to acknowledge him, ‘oh, hi Freddie,’ before she immediately turned her attention to Jim and pressed a big wet kiss to the Irishman’s mouth. ‘Thank you so much for giving me another credit card, darling. I know I maxed out the last three, but I just had to buy that new dress I saw in the boutique window.’

‘Anything for the love of my life.’ Jim crooned, rubbing their noses together in a way that made Freddie want to vomit. ‘I’m glad you’ve had a better day than I have – just look at what that idiot’s done to the garden!’

‘Now, now, Jimmy.’ Mary replied, looking at the man as if he was a deity. ‘You know we have to be patient with the help. It’s not like anyone else will hire him.’

Freddie had never hit a woman in his life, but right now Mary was really tempting him.

‘Here,’ Mary held out her bags to Freddie, looking down her nose at him as if he were contagious, ‘take these up to my room, would you? Jimmy and I need to discuss the plans for our wedding.’

Freddie’s cheeks burned with both anger and despair. He went to take the bags when he noticed the gold band on her left hand; it was much smaller, clearly fitted for a woman, but he would recognise it anywhere.

‘My ring!’ he cried, hands clenching into fists as his entire body began to shake. ‘That’s the ring Jim gave me!’

‘Don’t mind him, love.’ Jim put an arm around Mary, a horrible sneer on his face. ‘I think he’s been snorting something; all sorts of crap is coming out of his mouth today. Make yourself useful, Mercury, and go take the dogs for a walk. Maybe that will sober you up a bit.’

‘Dogs?’ Was all Freddie managed to get out before the door flew open again and he was set upon by at least six or seven four-legged fiends.

Don’t misunderstand, Freddie liked dogs. But unlike cats, dogs lacked any sort of grace and dignity; they piled on top of him like they wanted him dead, tongues licking mercilessly at his face until he managed to wriggle free and take cover on one of the sofas.

‘Since when do we have dogs?!’ he practically screamed over all the barking, holding up a pillow to shield himself as a dog the size of a bear leaped onto the sofa to join him.

‘Your memory needs testing, Mercury. We’ve always had dogs. You sleep in their room, for God’s sake.’ Jim refilled his glass and called over to the Newfoundland, which was currently smothering the Persian man. ‘Bad dog, David. You know you’re not allowed on the sofa.’

‘David?’

‘Yes, David. Phoebe said we should have called him Goliath because of his size, but I thought David would be funnier. Completely catches people off guard.’

Freddie felt his spirit rise out from his body and drift up towards the ceiling.

‘Right, you’ll need to keep him on a tight leash if you’re going to take him through the park – you know how much David loves children and I don’t want any parents filing a lawsuit because he’s knocked their kid over.’ Jim said, as Mary took out a small pocket mirror and began applying lipstick. ‘Juliet gets really nervous, so make sure none of the others bully her. And Samson hates you, so just keep out of his way.’

Freddie glanced over at the white poodle with brown markings, who was growling at him menacingly. No, no, no, not Delilah. She was his baby, his princess. How could she ever hate him?

‘By the way, Jim!’ Mary chirped, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her as the dogs swarmed the conservatory. ‘I took another test this morning and it came back positive – I am pregnant!’

Freddie covered his ears and screamed.

--

‘Freddie? Freddie, wake up!’

Freddie bolted upright, panicking when he felt his arms pinned to his sides, only to realise he had cocooned himself in the bedsheets. Jim was right beside him, carefully untangling him and smoothing back his sweaty hair while the singer trembled, mind still stirring from the nightmare he had just awoken from.

‘Sweetheart?’ Jim said softly once his husband had time to calm down. ‘You were crying out in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?’

As if snapping out of a trance, Freddie felt his right hand in the darkness, almost weeping when he realised it was bare. ‘My ring! Where’s my ring?’

‘Shh, shh, it’s okay, love.’ Jim soothed, reaching over to turn on one of the lamps and pointing to Freddie’s bedside table. ‘It’s right there, safe and sound.’

Freddie immediately grabbed it and slid it onto his finger, vowing never to remove it again, not even when he took a bath. He turned and snuggled into Jim’s arms, head tucked under the Irishman’s chin, relieved that he wasn’t pushed away.

‘That must have been one hell of a dream.’ Jim murmured, kissing Freddie’s temple. ‘Are you alright?’

Freddie wasn’t sure if he’d ever get those images out of his head. Having to wear waders. Phoebe with a six pack. Joe being skittish as a kitten. Destroying his own lawn with his terrible gardening. Jim treating him like garbage. Mary wearing his ring on her finger. His lovely cats transformed into a kennel of hyperactive, smelly dogs.

But it was just a dream. He was back in reality now, safe in Jim’s arms.

‘I am now.’ He mumbled sleepily into Jim’s neck, placing a kiss against his throat. So long as Jim was his, he would always be alright.

The prompt

OH MY GOD I AM DYING😂😂😂😂

Ahh fuck this is so good I am STILL DYING😂

Firstly, kudos to the anon who came up with such a brilliant prompt. I mean this is innovative af, and you did complete justice to it, writer anon! I had actually forgotten about the prompt, and was afraid that it wasn't a dream😂

Freddie reactions were the best part lmao. How he's utterly horrified at the aspect of Jim and Mary (behold the return of jimary!) being partners, his baby delilah (rather her counterpart) hating him, Phoebe being a gym-aholic and ahhhh Joe, sweet baby Joe actually being sweet like a baby kitten😂😂 I loved it all! Imma reread this so many times ahahahahahah oh god.

(More drabbles by writer anon)

[ladylynse]

Chapter 6 [FF | AO3] of Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room.

beginning | previous

-|-

Toby had hung up without giving more of an explanation, but from the look in Wendy’s eyes, Wirt knew she didn’t need one.

“You grab the kit from the kitchen,” Jazz said. “I’ll get the one from under my bed. Danny, there’s one in the top drawer under the bathroom sink.”

“On it,” he said, not questioning why they would possibly think they’d need three first aid kits between the two of them.

When they were all back with the kits and Wendy was pulling on her shoes, Wirt saw Danny glance at Jazz and Jazz’s answering nod. “Wirt and I can catch up,” she said without even looking at him for confirmation even though they were all gathered near the doorway now. “Wendy?”

Wendy paused long enough to look at Danny. “If it’s safe for me, then yes.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny said, handing Wendy the other two first aid kits when she finished getting her shoes on. She cradled them against her chest as he picked her up with ease—how the heck was he so strong when he looked so slight?—and then they vanished.

Just like Danny had back in the library.

“H…how—?” Wirt could see Danny being able to do that with himself. Lab accident. Okay. Fine. But with Wendy?

They hadn’t even opened a window, let alone a door, but Wirt knew they were already gone.

“Lab accident,” Jazz said, as if that explained everything. “That was your next show of proof, by the way. Now come on. They’ll be there by the time we get out the door at this rate.”

“When…when you talked about Danny flying in earlier,” Wirt said as Jazz shooed him out the door and locked it behind them, “was that supposed to be literal?”

“I would’ve meant it literally even if I had meant on a plane,” she said, which Wirt supposed was answer enough. He just….

“What else can your brother do?”

Jazz was already heading down the stairs, but she glanced back without missing a step. “How much research did you do on Amity Park?”

“Um….”

“Just give me the cliffnotes version.”

“It’s a nice place to live?”

“I’m serious.”

“Ghosts attacks are common.”

Jazz made an irritated noise and started moving faster, forcing Wirt to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with her. “Read anything about our town’s protector?”

“The ghost hunters, you mean? Your family?”

There was a beat before Jazz answered, “I don’t just mean Mom and Dad.” He joined her on the landing, and she immediately turned and led the way out the door, setting off at a quick clip for the residence hall he and Toby had been assigned.

“The other one, then?” He had to practically jog to keep up with her. This was ridiculous. This was not a fast walk, whatever she made it appear to be. “The one with the jet sled?”

“I’m talking about Phantom.”

“So there really is a ghost that fights other ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“And that matters right now because—?”

“Danny Phantom.”

“What?”

“That’s his name. Danny Phantom.”

“So—?”

“My brother is not very original.”

“What does Danny have to—?” Wirt broke off as Jazz’s meaning sunk in.

This had to be a joke. She couldn’t seriously mean that.

Even if it would explain her brother’s cryptid remarks earlier. And the reason he could turn invisible and get into locked room and apparently fly.

But…but Danny was solid. Real. Wirt had touched him, seen him touch other very real, very solid objects. Jazz’s brother couldn’t be some spirit clinging to this world after a tragic lab accident, however dramatic he’d tried to make that seem. Ghosts weren’t tangible—

—except in Amity Park.

“Danny’s dead?” Wirt hissed.

“Not exactly.”

That made even less sense.

“So he’s a demon?”

There really wasn’t another option. Plus, it might be the real reason Jazz never came to any of Wendy’s apocalypse training sessions with them. Wendy wasn’t big on demons. Not that Wirt would have expected her to be, but—

“No.”

Okay, he was completely lost now. “Then what the heck is he?”

“Just think of him as a human with ghost powers. It’ll be a lot easier on your head.”

“How is that supposed to be easier?”

“Do you really want me to launch into a spiel about what I think Danny’s molecular structure looks like right now?”

“I—”

“Because it is all speculation. I haven’t exactly put him under a microscope. I don’t even need to ask him if he’s comfortable with the idea because I know he isn’t. Who would be? We have no reason to believe he’s in any danger; not more than anyone is who does what he does, anyway. He’s stable. He’s not broken. He’s different. That’s not a bad thing.”

“He’s dead.”

“Not dead. And not demonic. Just because that was your experience, doesn’t make it Danny’s. Or mine.”

He’d played along with this whole thing for too long to ask if Jazz really meant that Danny had been the first person to give Phantom a name, hadn’t he? Because somehow being the reason Phantom took the name Danny—whether Danny Fenton gave him that name or if Phantom fancied it and adopted it, in honour of Fenton or not—didn’t explain anything. That would just be wishful thinking, especially after what Jazz had said.

Besides, Wirt knew that things that couldn’t be explained could actually happen.

He had simply never expected that they had genuinely happened to anyone else.

Particularly while they were still in this dimension.

“I just can’t….”

“You wanted to help Toby, didn’t you? So stop saying you can’t. Just roll with it and do the best you can. Life gets weird sometimes. You should’ve learned that by now.”

“I was fifteen!”

“Danny was fourteen.”

There was no way he could argue this like a sane person and actually come out ahead, was there?

Wirt swallowed his retorts, deciding to save his breath as Jazz picked up the pace again. Geez, that girl could run. By the time they got to the residence hall, he could taste blood and was gasping for breath in between coughing fits that somehow made the stabbing, burning pain in his side worse, and she wasn’t even winded.

He was still fumbling for his keys when someone else walked out, giving him a weird look but holding the door long enough for Jazz to grab it. Wirt pretended that his face was flushed only from exertion and not the fact that he was pretty sure that kid lived just down the hall from him and that he’d have to live with the fact that this guy was always going to remember him as this out-of-shape weirdo who—

“Come on. You can catch your breath when we get to your room. Probably.”

Jazz didn’t bother knocking when they got there. The knob turned when she tried it, and she shoved him inside before following and locking the door behind her.

Wirt wasn’t sure what he expected to see when they got there.

Someone injured, sure. That made sense. Toby had asked for a first aid kit.

But somehow, Wirt had never expected that said injured, uh, creature would not be human.

A quick glance told him that Jazz wasn’t the least bit fazed by the giant thing sprawled across Toby’s bed. It looked like it was dressed in armour, too. Without a helmet but with horns. Wirt shuddered, too reminded of the Beast not to immediately think demon despite the vastly different horn type. He looked for Wendy, but she was just perched on his desk, digging through the first aid kits, one balanced on her lap and two open beside her; she showed no signs of going for the hidden hatchet and trying to kill the thing, so that had to be a good sign.

Not that that gave Wirt much of an idea of what the creature was if it wasn’t a demon.

He didn’t really want to ask.

It did explain why someone had covered the window, though. Not so much as a shaft of sunlight was peeking through, so there was no way someone from outside could just happen to glance in and see…that.

“What—?”

“Jim and Claire are hurt,” Toby said, and Wirt tore his eyes away from the beast and finally realized that Jazz stood with Toby over a figure on Wirt’s bed, this one in that purple armour Claire had been wearing.

Was still wearing.

Toby was still wearing his armour, too. Wirt was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the blood on it. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the fact that he knew he was still sweaty from that run. There was just…so much here he hadn’t known. And that creature….

He hadn’t realized that anything could give him chills like this. Since the Unknown, horror movies and such had never given him the creeps. They weren’t real, and he knew that, so he just never let himself be bothered by it. But this?

This thing was real.

And definitely not human.

And probably not a demon, since Wendy had no problem with it. At least, it wasn’t glowing. Its eyes might be, if they were open, but they weren’t, so—

No. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole now. This one was bad enough. Wirt swallowed. “Badly?”

“Bad enough,” Wendy said as she hopped off the desk to give Toby whatever she’d been looking for in the kit. “A home stitch job isn’t going to make a concussion go away.”

“Let me, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Jazz said, reaching for something from Wendy. It wasn’t until she’d ripped open the package and fished out the contents that he realized it held sterilized needles. That wasn’t standard for first aid kits, right?

“This is crazy,” Wirt said. “We need to get her to the hospital.” He moved to stand at the end of his bed and tried to ignore the monster who lay on Toby’s in his peripheral vision. He stared at Claire’s armour instead, noting the smoothness of its joints and trying not to see what the others were doing. A quick glance had told him entirely too much. “She needs actual medical care. Last I checked, none of you guys have graduated med school.”

“No, but I’d wager we’re all experts in home treatment,” Wendy said. “Toby never flunked that part of the apocalypse prep courses, if you’ll remember.”

“I thought that was just your idea of first aid on steroids.”

“We don’t need an audience,” Jazz interrupted, and Wirt didn’t need to lift his head to know she hadn’t looked up from threading her needle. “Go help Danny.”

Wirt hadn’t actually seen Danny, so he glanced around the room again. “Where is he? Trying find someone to help?”

“He’s checking over Jimbo,” Toby said quietly. He was still looking over the piece of armour that was jutting out of Claire’s arm. Her arm. Speared by what Wirt could only assume was her own armour, though he couldn’t imagine how. He could see her losing a piece of plate, sure, but having it come back, sharpened to a point and tearing through her flesh— No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He quickly looked away, staring at Toby’s helmetless head instead and realizing how much sweat had plastered down his hair. “He and Claire got it bad. Jim can shake off a lot, but there was some dark magic in this mix.”

“Jim,” Wirt repeated. He remembered that name. “He was that other kid you were close friends with in high school, right? Tall, lanky? I think you raved about his food?” In truth, the last was the only thing Wirt remembered. Toby always raved about Jim’s food. Apparently, he made a mean omelet. “Did you at least drop him at the walk-in clinic or—?”

Toby finally met Wirt’s eyes. He looked…drained. That was the only way Wirt could think to describe it. “He’s on my bed.”

Wait.

What?

Wirt looked. The monster was still very much there. And now that he looked a little higher, he could see Danny hovering above him. Literally hovering. Maybe two feet from the ceiling. He’d paused in whatever examination he’d been doing to stuff his hand in his mouth and try to stifle his laughter, but he lost that battle the moment he realized Wirt had seen him.

“This is a prank,” Wirt said, coming to that conclusion again. That was the only thing that made sense. They’d finally done it. He didn’t know how they’d done, but they’d gotten him good, and he’d admit that. “Good one, guys. You really had me going.”

“This blood isn’t faked,” Wendy said bluntly. “Trust me, Wirt, if we were going to prank you, we’d all be laughing.”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered as he dropped down to Wirt’s eye level. “I just…. When I realized you hadn’t seen me, I couldn’t resist.” The smile dropped off his face as he added, “They’re right, though. This is serious. Definitely worse than the time Sam got hit by some of Skulker’s shrapnel.” His feet finally hit the floor again, and he pointed at the mon—at Jim. “Look at the way the armour impacted. It’s like he ran into a wall. Which he wouldn’t do, because when his eyes are open, they actually function. My guess is Jim has a lot of internal injuries, even with that stoneskin of his. Plus, y’know, the sheer amount of magic it would’ve taken to knock out him out. I’m surprised they were strong enough to bring him back here. He would’ve been dead weight.”

He turned away from Wirt, leaving Wirt to stare at the creature’s—Jim’s?—face and try to see something other than solid stone.

And trying to see the human face of the kid he’d thought had been Toby’s friend Jim in there somewhere.

However, Wirt was not so absorbed that he didn’t hear Danny’s utterly ridiculous question. “You guys can open portals to the Ghost Zone, right?”

How could this be real? It shouldn’t be real. It was even more insane than the Unknown, because he could pretend that that had just been a dream, complete with singing frogs and magical curses and nearly dying ten times over. There was a legitimate nightmarish monster lying on Toby’s bed that was apparently Jim, the amazing cook, and Jazz’s little brother had been floating, and—

“I mean, it doesn’t look like the Shadow Realm,” Toby said slowly. “Have you ever heard a name for it?”

“No,” was the hissed response, and Wirt blinked. He hadn’t realized Claire was conscious, even though he didn’t know who else Toby could have possibly been asking. “Haven’t seen anyone else there. Wouldn’t ask them where we were if I had.”

“Wait,” Wirt said. “What are we pretending happened here?”

“We’re not pretending anything because we’re not telling anyone else,” Wendy said without looking back at him. “But you should be able to guess what happened. Claire came to get Toby because they needed help. It went poorly.”

“Can I just see your staff?” Danny asked. “If I’m right and it does open portals to the Ghost Zone—and I really think I am—then I know someone who might be able to help Jim.”

“I’m willing to try anything. Claire?”

“Yeah.”

“Wendy, can you—?”

“I’ve got you covered,” Wendy said, smoothly swapping places with Toby.

Wirt backed up until he hit the door and tried not to think about how much blood was on Toby’s hands right now. He felt…out of place. More out of place than usual. Even more out of place than he’d felt in the Unknown, and this was the real world.

His friends were all taking this easily, like they’d known each other’s secrets all along, but his gut told him they hadn’t. His gut had been wrong before, admittedly, but this time it was backed up by how Jazz and Wendy had reacted to each other’s bits of dropped knowledge earlier. There had been curiosity and consideration, but there hadn’t been doubt.

“You know how to work that thing, right? I can carry Jim. Heck, I can carry both of you if you can’t manage a portal to a specific spot in the Ghost Zone.”

“Claire’s the one who really knows how to work this thing, not me, and getting back here took enough out of her. I can make it open a portal but I’m not good enough to do a place, especially not to somewhere I haven’t seen.”

“Okay, I can carry you piggyback so I can hold Jim and you can have a hand free to work that staff. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Toby reached over Claire to grab something from the bed, and Danny…changed.

Wirt had closed his eyes against the bright light, but when he opened them, he recognized Danny Phantom from the pictures he’d seen while researching Amity Park.

“Awesomesauce,” was all Toby said before lifting up some kind of baton that glowed and grew into a staff and—

That was definitely a portal in their room, opening up as quickly as if reality were tissue paper that Toby had just stabbed through with his finger instead of gestured at with that staff.

It was a huge, vividly green portal that pulsed brightly enough to make the overhead light seem dim, and it apparently led into the Ghost Zone, of all places….

Jazz’s little brother, who was none other than Danny Phantom, with Wirt’s armour-wearing and staff-wielding roommate Toby on his back, picked up and cradled the giant monster that was somehow Toby’s friend Jim in his arms before flying all of them through that portal.

It winked out behind them as it had never been there.

“Wirt, Danny put some ice in the bathroom sink. Can you wrap some in a towel and bring it here?”

Where had Danny gotten ice? It wasn’t like this was a hotel and there was an ice machine down the hall or something. The cafeteria was in an entirely different building, but maybe he’d gone there for some. Even if it was winter, there wasn’t exactly a lot of ice or snow outside.

Then again. Danny Phantom. Wirt had a vague recollection of a reference to ice powers.

Wirt moved robotically, trying not to be surprised by the fact that the sink was full of perfect ice cubes that weren’t melting, or at least weren’t melting enough to stick to each other yet, and scooped a handful into a hand towel that he hoped was clean. Those had never gone missing like the socks, but they weren’t always remembered come laundry day, either.

He came out and handed the homemade ice pack to Wendy, trying not to stare at Claire’s pale face or the bruises already beginning to blossom on it. There was no sign of the helmet she’d been wearing earlier, though that cut that came entirely too close to her eye might be the reason for its absence, if someone had gotten in a lucky strike with a spear—

“I’ll be fine,” she hissed between clenched teeth when she noticed him. “I’ve had worse.”

Having had worse didn’t mean she was fine now. She shouldn’t be conscious. Well, she at least shouldn’t be this coherent, shouldn’t be able to read his expression and know his thoughts so easily. Was he really that transparent? Wendy had been worried about a concussion. Maybe—

“Go get some air,” Jazz said. “We don’t need you fainting on us, and we can handle this ourselves.”

He hadn’t been thinking about fainting. If anything, he’d been debating running away from here and just never coming back. This kind of stuff was supposed to be reasonable and stay in dreams and stories instead of invading perfectly logical or rational realities. Or maybe he just needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him for what would sound like wild fantasies. A real therapist, not Jazz.

“Hey, you still with us?”

That was Wendy. She would not appreciate Wirt saying no. “Yeah,” he croaked out.

“Good. Then go. Get yourself a drink. Take a moment for this to sink in. Then you can come back and we can talk.”

He didn’t want to talk.

He didn’t want this to be real.

Why did this have to be real?

The Unknown was just supposed to be a dream. He didn’t want to admit that, yes, he’d actually travelled to another dimension or stumbled into some limbo between life and death or whatever it had been—

Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe none of this was real and it just felt real. Though, if he was delusional, this went way beyond his friends supporting him. This was…. Either this was enabling him or none of this was real and—

“Wirt.” Jazz again. “Seriously. Talk to us. What do you need? Would you rather just lie down for a bit instead?”

Right. Lie down where the monster that was Jim had been. Since that bed was free now that he and Toby and Danny had left through a portal in reality.

“Yeah, he’s not okay.” Wendy. “Hold down the fort. I’m going to wash up and get him out of here.”

He didn’t register that Wendy had moved until she was steering him out the door with still-wet hands. She paused only long enough to close the door behind her before pushing him forward.

It took entirely too long for him to realize that they were going to her favourite hidden corner on campus, a bench on the path that passed the bio and chem buildings that was half-hidden by bushes and trees in a little alcove by the northwest entrance to bio that Wirt had never seen anyone use.

“Sit.”

Wirt sat.

Wendy dropped down beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

There was really no point in lying. Wendy would call him on it. He spoke in short, halting sentences, not so much because he didn’t know what he was thinking as because he wasn’t sure of a sane way of wording any of it. But that was the crux of it, really. Sanity didn’t factor into any of this. So, he just told her the truth, as best he could.

Wendy, being Wendy, never laughed at him. Never denied any of this. Never reassured him that it wasn’t real or that she hadn’t seen what he had.

“Yeah,” she said when he’d stopped for long enough that it was clear to her he didn’t intend to continue. “That about sums it up, I guess.”

“How does this not….” He swallowed and tried again. “Did you know?”

“About what, Jazz and Danny? Not really. I never bothered doing research on her or anything. I just knew she could take care of herself, and that was enough for me. I learned the details when you did.”

“Toby?”

She grimaced. “I knew something was there. I didn’t know it was this big. Trolls weren’t something I’d encountered in Gravity Falls. Don’t get me wrong; they’re probably there. And from what I know about the Gremloblin, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s related.”

“The what?”

She shrugged. “Half-gremlin, half-goblin. Makes you see your worst nightmare if you look it in the eyes. Dipper captured it once. Or at least one of them, if it’s a species and not just a rare hybrid.”

She didn’t look like she was kidding.

Wirt groaned. “This can’t be real life.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. “You are lucky Mabel isn’t here for this conversation or she’d take that as a cue to start singing.” When Wirt didn’t say anything else, she continued, “Look, I know this is a lot. You’ve obviously been in denial for a long time. But if we’re going to be able to help Toby and Claire and Jim, you need to pull yourself together. Like it or not, this is real life. It’s your life, it’s my life, it’s all our messed up lives. You can choose to walk away from this. I know Toby won’t judge you for that; he’s a better person than I am. But if you want to walk away, you need to be prepared to either cut us off completely so you can ignore everything that’s going on in our lives or cover for us when this stuff does come up, even if your involvement ends there. It’s your choice, but you need to make it soon.”

“But—”

“This isn’t me trying to pressure you into making a decision. It’s me telling you that we don’t have time for you to weigh every pro and con about every feasible scenario you can think of. We’re in the middle of this now, and we need to know if you’re in or out.”

“I don’t know—”

“That’s why I’m going to let you think it over and figure it out. Unless you want me to stay here and listen some more?”

She was more use to Claire than she was to him, so he shook his head.

“Okay. Text me if you wanna talk one-on-one with someone before you come back. As far as your decision goes…. We’ll do what we can to protect you either way, but I’m not going to promise you that you’ll be fine. I don’t know if you will be. I don’t know if I will be. I don’t know enough about what’s going on despite what Toby told me when Danny and I got there, but even if I did know, I still couldn’t make that guarantee. We’ll never be able to give you that guarantee.”

“I just…. I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this.”

“No one is. Well, I like to think I was more prepared for my first apocalypse than the average person, but for the most part? No one is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, first apocalypse?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I helped save the world once. And I don’t think it’s a lie to say I’m not the only one, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to think I might wind up helping stop a second.” Wendy got to her feet. “Just think about it. Take some time to clear your head and sort things out. We’ll be in your dorm room until Toby gets back, and one of us will text you if we leave before you show up.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” whispered Wirt, looking away so he didn’t have to see Wendy’s face when he admitted that.

“Then you don’t have to. But don’t give up until you give it some real thought, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t look up as she walked away.

(see more fics | next)

[jeonandjoonie]

Just One Day

posted on wattpad and this tumblr only.

You have a crush on your boxing T.A. college au. Jungkook X Reader.

word count: ~10,900k

W: NONE

================================================

Kids.

You couldn’t believe that for your last semester in college you would have to take a physical education class. You still curse your advisor when you remember the day.

You were walking happily to your appointment prepared to turn in your graduation application only to be told that you were not set to graduate. Your previous advisor didn’t notice the unfulfilled requirement. You almost cried and immediately went to your apartment to search up any physical Ed classes that would satisfy the requirement.

Of course being so late in registering, all the basic classes such as Yoga, Gym, and Dance were filled. You looked over the list, even weight training had a waitlist of 5. You were beginning to feel hopeless as you saw Judo and Tennis having a waitlist as well. There must be an open one!!

And how much your heart delighted when you noticed a class that was full but had no waitlist! Your eyes immediately crossed over to the left to see what class it was.

Boxing.

Taken back, you pushed back the stress from clouding your mind. Thinking of having to not only work out but be punched down Sighing, you quickly clicked on the class to register accepting your doom. Another couple hundred dollars invested into your degree, taking a class you were not interested in.

With the start of the semesters you passed through all your classes easily already feeling like a master in your discipline. You walked happily from class to class. You were especially happy that your internship and student work study all fit perfectly within your schedule.

You plopped yourself onto your tiny single bed. In a few hours you’ll have to get ready for your first day of Boxing. 3-hour class, two times a week, it made you want to cry. Your classes started at 6 and it was past 4 when you got to your apartment, so you quickly went to your kitchen to eat. You wanted your food to be digested before class to prevent yourself from vomiting.

You settled for some leftover mango rice and smoked salmon that accumulated from days before. Neither were yours, but you and your three other roommates agreed that when food has been in the fridge for more than two days it’s a free for all.

"Hey, __" your roommate, literally roommate which you share your room with, patted your head as she passed you. "Do you want to do our nails and talk about our 5-year plans and then eat ice cream?" She shouted from your shared bedroom.

" Sorry, can’t!" You shouted back to her, "I got that boxing class tonight!" You continued to shout even though she was now in front of you. You wanted the whole world to hear your misery.

"Oh, that sounds like fun!" She responded leaning onto the counter

" Ugh. Please, it’s going to be such a waste of time. Punching people is one thing but having to let someone punch me sounds so annoying" you complained putting your dishes in the sink.

"Stop crying, I’m sure they won’t have you fight anyone. I bet it’ll just be like learning posture or something. It’ll probably just be the basics".

"True... Anyways do you have any clothes I can borrow real quick? I didn’t have time to buy any"

"Sure, What’s the dress code"

“I dunno, the guy just said casual and comfortable for the first day", you thought it over " just sweats, I have a t-shirt. Please!"

When you asked for sweats you didn’t think it was going to be an issue. Sweats are pretty much one size fits all. You should have known better as you looked at yourself in your floor length mirror. Minah's gray sweats were clinging to your butt and legs.

"Oh my god Minah, what is your size? a size negative zero, I feel like I’ll explode. Did you get this at the kids’ section".

"Shut up, those are the only ones I have…they kind of shrunk when I washed them" she mumbled the last part. You knew Minah was skinnier than you, but you didn’t expect it to be this much maybe just a size or two. "they don’t even look that bad, they fit really snug on me after the wash".

Seeing your disappointing stare, she quickly fusses over you. "Fine. Bend down, run, jump or do whatever boxers do. Let’s see how they look".

You jumped, kicked, and ran in place. You dropped it low a couple times to feel the strain on your thighs and butt.

"I mean…I guess they’re okay" you studied yourself again "you know what, it’s no big deal it’s like I’m wearing yoga pants"

Minah laughed "You’re so right! why are we even discussing this?"

You looked at her putting on a pout "they look like yoga pants, but they feel like they’re about to rip. Look, my pockets are sticking out!"

Finally getting annoyed with you, Minah sighed loudly throwing her hands up in a dramatic flair "Wear them, don’t wear them. Hurry up cause it.." she looks at her rose gold wrist watch with faux diamonds around the frame, the one you gifted her for Christmas. Yes, you are proud of your gift. "Oh my gosh, __ you need to go it's 5:50! Isn’t your class at 6?" Minah looked at you with wide eyes.

"What?!" you squeaked. You didn’t want to be late, you couldn’t given the fact that you were on the waitlist. You can’t give off a bad impression now. "Oh my…oh my gosh" you muttered to yourself quickly, slipping on a black t-shirt. You grabbed your bag and ran towards the front door to slip on your black shoes. Which was a struggle and you later realized it would have been easier and maybe faster to untie them and then put them on.

You reached out for the door handle only to have it hit you against your forehead.

"Oh my gosh" three voices chorused at the same time.

Sohee your other roommate gasped as she grabbed your arm to inspect your injury. However, you simply brushed her away as you were already late. "__, wait are you okay, I’m so sorry"

"It's fine, I’m good!” you yelled back as you ran the two blocks to your campus. only to getting slightly lost as you turned a right and not a left. You didn’t even have time to blame it on your possible concussion. Can you get a concussion? you don’t know. But you almost threw up with nerves when you realized you made the wrong turn.

You need to get into this class. Your graduation depended on it. Although you’re sure they will squeeze you in when they realize you’re a senior, you still want to be in good standing with the instructor if you planned on slacking off in class.

Reaching the gymnasium doors, you tried to control your breathing. You haven’t run this fast since you had to run miles in middle school. You felt dizzy and tried hard not to think about your burning calves.

Inside looked nothing like you thought it would. You imagined dark lights, punching bags, and maybe some weights. However, there were only large mats laid out on the floor. A small group of students seated in front of what you figured is the instructor. You quickly ducked your head trying to hide yourself as you sat down in the back. There were two other people standing next to him wearing head gear and strapping on boxing gloves.

"And who is the new intruder?" the instructor, Mr. Kang or Mino, questioned out loud.

You shyly smiled (or what you thought was a cute shy smile) when in reality you looked like a nervous wreck, trying to hide the fact that your legs were burning and you were breathing too hard. Hmm? was that sweat running down your neck.

"I’m ___, I should be on the waitlist"

Mino made a huge show of flipping the pages of his clipboard. "Ah yes __, I see you here. Well if you still want this class you’re in luck because three people dropped out this morning"

Even though you were practically hyper venting in your seat and you're pretty sure the sweatpants were cutting your circulation. You felt such a relief wash over you.

“Just don’t make a habit out of being late, 25 minutes is unacceptable, 5 more and I would have kicked you out. Next time make sure to email me beforehand"

If you didn’t look like a nervous wreck before, you sure did now. You nodded your head too afraid to speak from the embarrassment.

"Come get your syllabus after class, we’ve already gone over it”, he looked around “Everyone this is why I stress that you should attend every class and be here on time, every moment is important" he clapped his hands, “now for the fun part: the demonstration”. He turned towards the two people standing at his side, “like I said these are two of my excellent students who are in boxing III, they volunteered their time to be here and help me teach this course. so please give them the same respect you will give me" he turned towards them once more giving them a nod as a sign to begin. The two guys started to face each other and sway around.

"These are more advanced moves, we won’t be learning these in this course but I want you to see..."

The instructor's voice drifted off as you watched the two guys start to move and jab at each other. They were fast and moving so quick on their feet. Your eyes lingered on to their legs. Interesting…very interesting. With these types of demonstrations maybe this class wouldn’t be so bad.

The two guys continued to "punch" each other bouncing in their spot. "Whoos" can be heard from the students around you who knew what was happening. It did look like the one in all black was beating the one in a blue shirt. The guy in blue was larger than the other which says a lot since they both look fit.

You were startled out of analyzing as Mino clapped his hands, "Okay. Okay, guys that’s enough thank you".

He applauded and everyone followed along. As did you, poking your head in between the seated bodies in front of you trying to get a better look of the guys. The guy in all black had tattoos on his hand and arm. The one in blue had a tattoo running up his neck. You were curious to see how it would spread out on his body. When he fully took off his head gear, wow….

Oh….

Wow…

You were amazed. These guys are so handsome. They are the straight definition of charming. You almost wanted to reprimand him for risking his stunning features. He gave a boxy smile "Hi, everyone my name is Taehyung".

“Hi Taehyung” a couple of aspiring class clowns responded back.

"Hi, I’m Jungkook" the voice next to him said.

Your eyes turned to him. The one in all black. To say your heart stopped would be an understatement because you are sure your brain cells did to. You froze in your spot, zoning in on his pretty face. Noticing the way his eyes crinkle despite his attempt to look serious. The charm and absolute power that oozed out of him was no intimidation to you, for your newfound adoration for his aura and beauty captivated you more. So much that you are willing to freeze in the spot if it resulted in you taking him in.

You continued to stare at Jungkook. This time zoning in on his lips, not yet picking up on his squinted eyes trying to meet yours for he felt you blunt stare and felt slightly amused. Jungkook, what a guy, what a man, what a-

“Okay class, let’s begin some basic moves everybody! Get to the mats".

Upon hearing more chatter and the squeaks of shoes, like on autopilot your body stood up. You were out of your trance once you realized you were staring at the back of Jungkook's neck. You quickly got into a spot in the back corner wanting a place where no one will see if you happened to rip your sweats or see your lame attempt at following along. You tried to make sure you have a view on that Jungkook guy, but blocking your view was a couple other people. You didn’t even have the privilege of seeing his calf. You decided to just admit defeat and listen to Mino. The class began with basic exercises that seemed even more difficult than the jumping jacks and squats you did in your room earlier.

"Hey are you alright?". You jumped back upon hearing a voice at your side, "Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, are you good?"

It was Taehyung.

"Huh, wha- why?.. no, no I’m good"

"Okay it just seemed like you were struggling a bit”

"No I’m fine. Everything is fine…haha" you said as you lunged your leg forward like everyone else did to show him you were right on track. Can he notice the agony on your face that was caused by the ridiculous sweats?

“How about your forehead?” he asked, pointing to his own, upon seeing the confusion in your eyes.

“OH” you exclaimed a little too loudly, placing a hand on your forehead.

Taehyung gave you a short smile and a short nod as he jogged up to his spot in front of your section.

How considerate. As the exercises began you were now aware of Taehyung eyes. He tried to act like he was casually glancing at you and not keeping an eye on you. You would love to say it was due to that fact that he thought you were cute, but you knew it was because of the sweat that now adorned your face and the puffs that escaped your mouth. You haven’t exercised properly in ages.

As you continued your moves you were beginning to feel itchiness from the band around your ankles. You lifted the band as much as you can, only to be horrified with the deep red marks imprinted around your ankles. You looked up in shock meeting Taehyung's eyes. He immediately rushed to your side .

“Are you crazy?” He asks you with wide eyes “You need to go change”

“I’m okay” you tried keeping your voice hushed as to contour Taehyung's loud exclamation that had people around you turning their heads.

“No, this is bad,” Taehyung said, trying to find Mino to gain his attention.

“No, No, I’m fine” you hiss at Taehyung “Go away”.

Taehyung ignores you as he stands at high alert waiting for Mino to come to your side. You noticed Jungkook trailing behind him.

As the two men approached, Taehyung simply pointed at your ankles which were lamely covered by your hands.

Jungkook rushes to your side and tries to lift your sweats to see the damage done. If you weren’t so mortified by the attention given by everyone in the class, you would have swooned at his proximity.

“I’m fine” you mumble.

“No,” Mino says, meeting Jungkook’s eye “you should go home. Class is almost finished anyways”.

Feeling defeated your get up to your feet keeping your eyes on the ground. Being this close to them you realized how small you are. You hid behind Jungkook’s body to hide from your class's attention.

“I’m okay” you try to reason with Mino, “just a little tight” you tried to laugh.

“Miss?”

“__”

“___” Mino repeated, “I’m responsible for you in this class and I won’t allow for any injury no matter how small or big. Please, you're excused to go home”.

Slumping your shoulders and keeping your head to the ground you sighed, “Okay”.

In any other situation you would have taken this as a fortunate luxury, a blessing in disguise, but since Jungkook was witness to this (and Taehyung) you felt embarrassed. You didn’t want them to think of you as dumb. I mean you are leaving a boxing class early due to an injury caused by your tight sweats.

“and ___,” he called out to you as you made your way to the door ,”please come to class on time and be properly dressed”.

Yeah, this had to be one of the dumbest moments in your life.

You grumbled your way to your second class of boxing. After the first class, you went home and cried to your roommates about how embarrassing it was. Although you didn’t have time to wallow in your embarrassment due to the difficulty of peeling off the sweats. The girls helped you lather ointment on your red marks. The stinging and itchiness can now be felt with the cool air hitting your skin. You and Minah were scolded by Tara, your other roommate, for putting yourself in danger in “cutting off your damn ankles!”. You tried to protest only to be hushed by Sohee. With the way things were that night it would seem like you and Minah were the kids to your mothers Tara and Sohee. So, to fit into your new role you stuck out your tongue at both of their backs as they left your room and Minah tried to suppress her giggles.

You really didn’t want to go to the next class, but that degree was on the line. What would be your excuse? That you were publicly embarrassed in front of your class?

This time around you made sure to buy some sweats and cute shiny shorts. You will be prepared. Well not that prepared, as you slipped on the shorts you noticed how you didn’t even shave. So, you had to go back to the black sweats you brought.

To your massive egos surprise, no one seemed to care or remember about you. You made sure to arrive 10 minutes early and found yourself with three other early birds. Not even Mino or his helpers were here. You felt a little ridiculous but it’s better than being late. So, you sat against the wall scrolling through your phone waiting for the time to pass. It was 4 minutes before class when the chatter in the gym began to get louder. You looked up to see that everyone was here including your instructor. You remembered that you had to get the syllabus but now he was surrounded by eager students talking about God knows what. You are aimlessly glancing around trying to find a chance where your instructor could be alone. You slowly made your way closer to the group of seated students. You spotted Jungkook talking to Taehyung. They were also getting crowded by students. You watched how Jungkook walked over to the mats with one of the students and began to demonstrate something with his feet. Your guessing it’s his feet with how everyone is staring at his feet and he keeps looking down as he talks. You are admiring the way he moves his pretty lips as he talks when your vision of him is once again blocked by somebody. A boxy smile. A handsome smile. Taehyung.

You watch him walk over to you with a smile on his face as he waves a sheet of paper in his right hand.

“You need this” he states handing you the class syllabus.

“Yes. Thank you” you reach out for the paper. Your eyes skimmed through the paper making mental notes of the exam dates and random quizzes.

To your surprise you felt Taehyung still standing next to you. Feeling shy all of a sudden you focused more on the text.

“So… why boxing?” he suddenly asks with a gleam in his eye. He stared at you waiting for an answer.

“Why not?” you challenge him, “am I not boxing material?”

“I never said that” Taehyung defends himself, “just trying to make conversation to avoid having to…” he nudges back to where all the students are surrounding Jungkook.

You stop yourself from snorting, “I need it to graduate”

“Oh, you’re a senior?” he asks with interest.

“Yup, with a physical requirement I didn’t know I needed till the last minute”.

“So, this was the only option” Taehyung looks at you with pity understanding the lack of enthusiasm in your voice as you tell him your sad tale.

“It’ll be fun” he says with a smile” just look like you're trying and you’ll pass”.

You shrug and give him a smile. He was nice.

“Listen you don’t have to try hard and with everyone else you’ll be average. Trust me, this is my second year helping the beginner’s course. I’ve seen worse. A lot of freshmen who are over their heads”.

You laughed at that “It’s cute though, right?” you joked with him.

“Yeah, it’s cute, until they hurt themselves. All fired up kids,” Taehyung thought for a moment,

“actually it's embarrassed freshmen and then fired up second years that think they matured overnight or something”

You laughed at his analogy, remembering the cockiness that came from some of your classmates of sophomore year.

“You’re so right” you said, clapping your hands laughing.

Taehyung laughed along with you, “honestly though I wouldn’t mind going back. To be a bit naïve. Thinking of graduating makes me nervous”

“aww” you cooed at him reaching over to pat his arm.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, this time at you.

“What are your plans?” you ask him.

“Art Courier”

“Art” you ask surprise.

“Yea” he smiles, “I love it. I’m also volunteering at an art gallery downtown. Its local art, it’s nice”

“So why are you nervous?”

He looks at you, “Aren’t you?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I mean I got an internship out of town. I’m hoping to stay there for a short while. Then I want to come back to Kim Corp.”

He smiles at you, “Those are big plans”.

“Yeah… but yeah, I guess I’m nervous but like an exciting kind” you tilt your head, “like butterflies or dragonflies in my stomach”

“Dragon flies? that’s new” he chuckles, “mine are like crashing waves so sometimes it gets nauseating”, he pouts slightly thinking hard, “it’s exciting”. He sighs, “the truth is I’m applying for a master's and I just turned in my last application, so it’s this waiting period”.

“Ahhh, I see” you pat his shoulder once more giving him a smile, “good luck!”

Taehyung smiles back at you turning his full body to face you “thanks, you too”.

“Taehyung!”

Taehyung's name being called interrupted your mutual understanding of senior nervousness and friendship that was forming between the two of you. You lifted your head to the voice that interrupted such a sweet moment. Your eyes were ready to squint at the rude person, but they only softened upon finding the irritated face of Jungkook.

“Oops, got to go, seems like those fired up sophomores are getting to him” Taehyung whispers to you before he jogs up to a furrowed brow Jungkook who is still surrounded by eagerly waiting students. You wait for him to possibly shift his glance towards you. Readying a reassuring and “haha, yikes'' face to show him. However, he kept his gaze locked on Taehyung till he arrived at his side. You pout as you give up and stuff your syllabus into your bag.

Later that evening while the class was practicing a two step footwork you notice Jungkook teaching a student a few rows ahead of you. You watch carefully as he slowly makes his way down to your back corner. Is this your time? The moment in which you have him all alo-on-ne, to have a “private conversation" with him. You hoped. Jungkook was examining the student in front of you. You were next. You lowered your head focusing on your feet. You tried to remain calm even though the anticipation of talking to him was weighing down on you. You stole a quick glance at his feet, they were headed towards you. Here it goes.

“Hey Jungkook!”

Oh my gosh.

“Jungkook, Am I doing it right?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

You lifted your head to see Jungkook making his way to the kid next to you. There Jungkook goes helping those eager hogging students that take any second with Jungkook away from you. Should you also feign ignorance to the movements in class? Even though you’re sure you probably really do need the extra attention. However, those kids just want to be praised by the “cool" Jungkook. You just want to talk to him.

The following weeks had no progress both with your boxing and with Jungkook. Thankfully your friendship with Taehyung grew as you both would be catching up with each other before classes. And you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Jungkook try to make his way over to you guys only to be stopped by some over achievers. You once asked Taehyung why he doesn’t teach the kids only for him to say he doesn’t need the experience unlike Jungkook who is majoring in Exercise Science (and a minor in art, which is where they meet and become friends). You only huffed in response and told him to give him a break. Taehyung just shrugged and went back on his phone. The talks with him were fine. Taehyung had good humor and amazing story telling skills, once in a while he would reveal subtle information about Jungkook. You would try to slyly ask him questions about Jungkook. You found yourself knowing a little about him every day.

One of the most amazing days though was when you were coming out of the bathroom after class and you overheard Taehyung’s unforgettable laugh and Jungkook’s -surprising- high pitched laughter. You walked slowly towards the divine laughter. You had to hide yourself behind a pillar when you saw them stop before an elevator.

“Those sophomores are so competitive! Hmmm… It reminds me of someone” Taehyung says jokingly, tapping his finger on his chin.

Jungkook shoves him playfully.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding” Taehyung raises his hands in defeat before Jungkook could put him into a headlock. Their rough playing is stopped with the "ding" sound of the elevator doors.

The "ding" also reminds you of what you were doing: hiding behind a pillar like a loser and overheating these guys. At this point it was odd since you were actually friends with one of them. I mean you did have Taehyung’s number and he would occasionally text you to tell you when he (or Jungkook) would not be in class.

You slowly inched your foot, not trying to make noise. You were ready to leave but halted when you heard Jungkook’s voice as they headed inside the elevator.

“So, what did you and __ talk about this time?”

HUH

Did he?

“Oh, I told her about your obsession with banana milk”

“Taehyung!”

Is all you heard before the doors closed.

Okay… what was that about?

Did they talk about you?

Was this an ongoing thing? Taehyung never told you about Jungkook’s supposed obsession with banana milk (cute by the way). Does this mean anything?

You groan as you make your way back to your apartment. Your head was spinning Did he…or did he not? Or did Taehyung just tell him once about all your “interesting” conversations that

Jungkook just routinely started asking him about it?

Your heart thumped at all the possibilities.

Whatever the reason it seemed he had an okay opinion about you. Right? I mean the best outcome you can hope is to be his friend because from what you see in class, and what you’ve heard from Taehyung, Jungkook does seem like a cool and genuine guy. And you’re not doing him (or Taehyung) any justice by eavesdropping on their conversations and following them. At that moment you decided to stop your shy approach and borderline creepy behavior towards him. You were an adult for goodness sake not a love-struck teen. You were going to be more direct!

Your heart raced miles at your final decision.

The next couple of days you began your new resolution by approaching Jungkook first. Your conversations weren’t as complex nor were they as comfortable as with Taehyung. A light tension always seemed to linger as if you both had your own elephants roaming around the room. You ignored it as much as you could. You were grateful for when Taehyung was around to break the tension. This would lead to the three of you to develop a more easy-going conversation. You were just happy that you were able to learn things about Jungkook directly and not through a second source.

All this progress seemed to have gone down the drain one night when you were practicing a new defensive pose. Jungkook came up to you to slightly adjust your arms into the proper distance from your face and body. He smiles afterwards, urging you to feel the difference. You proudly do your complete pose and suppress a giggle when his smile widens. He’s so mesmerizing. Mino was out of the gymnasium, quickly running off saying he need to go to his office. So, you took this opportunity to have Jungkook all to yourself. You were less reserved around him now and were ready to break some more of the barriers between you two. It starts with you two laughing over Taehyung's obvious lie of pretending to be busy. He’s looking over some papers on the clipboard at the front of the matts. You wanted to see Jungkook laugh again as he jokingly comments on the students in front of Taehyung who are trying to get his attention.

“It’s all these fired up Sophomores” you began, hushing your voice as if telling him a secret.

“they’re so competitive and eager to please as if they are being paid to be here. All these little kids will soon face the real world and realize that no one cares”.

Jungkook nervously places his hand behind his neck, “Some of them have potential...”, he hesitantly mutters.

You snort, “potential or not. All little kids, sorry, sophomores are the same. They are all so overly passionate. I feel bad for them once they realize that there will always be someone better, prettier, and bigger than them out there. Haven’t we learned that by now?”.

You turn to Jungkook upon seeing his straight face. You must admit it wasn’t one of your best attempts of comadeire, but the way he was acting seemed like you offended his mother. You were about to apologize and voice your concern when Jungkook nervously laughs.

“Yeah, well…” He chuckles again defeatedly. “…there’s always someone better…”.

“Jungko-“

“I see you have all been working diligently as I was gone! Thank you! As a reward I think we should run a few laps around the gym”.

Jungkook skedaddles away at the voice of Mino. You’re left confused, pondering over your conversation. Can he not stand unfunny people? Were you really that bad? Did he find you to be some bitter old bully?

Once the class is over you jog up to Taehyung and Jungkook before they could get onto the elevators.

You wanted to make sure you were good with Jungkook. You knew you would be up all weekend trying to figure out what went wrong. You know it was something you said. Did he not like your joke? were you being a bit too mean? You didn’t mean it too much. It was just something Taehyung always joked about, so you thought it would be okay to do so as well. Making your way up to them you say the first thing that comes to your mind

“Hey, are you guys going to the Senior Party?” This senior party was for seniors only (unless you were a plus one) hosted by all the frats of school. They all come together to make a huge block party that is honestly favored upon by many and has everyone going.

“hmm not sure” Taehyung says, “Maybe, I’m kind of over frat parties”.

“Yeah…, but this IS the last Ho-rah”. Taehyung shrugs at your response.

“How about you?” you turn to face Jungkook making sure to make eye contact, afraid he’ll look away and avoid you as he has done for the rest of the class period.

Jungkook looks you straight on furrowing his eyebrows, “Why should I go?” he asks almost coldly.

“Oh” okay he hates me, you thought to yourself. “Well, I mean everyone usually goes”, you respond to him with a much more quitter voice now that all your confidence has disappeared.

“It’s only for seniors. I’m a Sophomore”.

Sophomore.

WHAT!?

Your mouth fell agape. And you only half registered Taehyung laughter as he smacks your back,

“____, didn’t you know Jungkook is a baby”.

You knew he was baby. You didn’t realize he was a baby.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Taehyung's comment.

“I didn’t...I-I’ You stuttered “ Aren’t you in the advanced class and have all these achievements and- and”.

“Yeah” Jungkook sourly smirks “I guess I’m just like all those overly passionate kids”.

Taehyung laughs as if not catching the tone in Jungkook’s voice or the nervous energy you are sure that can be detected from miles away.

“He’s the king of the sophomores! Why do you think they are always crowding him like he’s their hero”.

“Right…” you look down on the floor. You didn’t offend his mother, you offended him. You’ve insulted him.

“Okay, well I’ll see you guys in the next class, Bye” you turn fast around and start speed walking home. You only faintly catch Taehyung’s boisterous “Bye!”.

This all makes sense, the students crowing him like he’s a king, him being insulted by your unfunny comment, Taehyung always picking on him. But the thing is that Taehyung CAN pick on him because they are friends, he’s teasing him. You are not friends with him. You have no right to talk to him or joke with him like that. Your stress levels rise because you never want to hurt someone, much less intentionally. He probably thinks you’re some big bully and know it all. Imagine what he has told Taehyung by now. What if you get shunned by both of them? This is so embarrassing, and you feel awful. You shouldn’t have run away. You should have confronted Jungkook and apologized to him. You should have cleared the air. But at that moment you were so confused and surprised your head was everywhere. Forget dating Jungkook he probably wouldn’t even want to be friends with you anymore.

All of your woes were heard by your three roommates on your living room floor. Picking at your blue fuzzy carpet you retold them everything. They first got mad at you for not telling them about these two good looking guys in your class and then they got even more mad at you for making a

lame joke that insulted Jungkook and then running away.

“You need to talk to him ___”

“You said: ‘Overly passionate sophomores, little kids’. Who even talks like that?”.

Taehyung does you want to point out but instead remain quiet as they continue their criticism and advice.

“Yeah, talk to him! Don’t even think about how you insulted the poor guy!”

“or how you said an odd and unfunny joke”

You never thought about dating young guys. You were always into the older type. You ask your friends about what you should do. They give you the advice you already knew inside your heart. Talk to him, apologize, and go for it.

You remembered that Jungkook is sporty and artsy. The Art building was your first stop. You don’t know his schedule and frankly you don’t want to know it. It would make you feel like a total creep if you knew it and purposely went looking for him. You didn’t want to repeat the ugly feeling you felt after the eavesdropping incident at the elevators. Instead you conceded with a coincidence. This was less guilty.

You entered the Student museum and browsed the artwork. You were so excited to see one of Taehyung’s art pieces hanging in display that you quickly took a photo of it and texted it to him. You momentarily forgot about what had happened. You hesitated to look at your phone after feeling its vibrations indicating Taehyung had replied. You quickly found the nearest restroom which wasn’t easy given you’ve never been inside this building. You entered a stall and opened the text. You were greeted with a “You should have told me you were going to be there I just left Campus” accompanied with two crying emojis. You felt a sigh of relief, as if you can breathe again. Taehyung is not mad at you. You replied with compliments and several hearts that Taehyung gleefully returned.

Your mornings were spent waiting in between classes in the student lounge, in the Art building, and walking laps around the Sport’s building and Gymnasium. You even peeked at the pool only to be flashed with multiple water polo swimmers climbing out of the pool. You blushed running away after making eye contact with the swimming coach. During the night when you had boxing, everything seemed like the beginning of the semester. You would talk with Taehyung as you always would but Jungkook…he was different. He would acknowledge you and would occasionally join you and Taehyung, but he wouldn’t be alone with you anymore. If he ever was he would just stay with you in silence. It would be such a peaceful quietness if you weren’t so confused and nervous on what his opinion of you was. You wanted to apologize to him, but he became much more competitive and almost aggressive during demonstrations. You felt this new form of intimidation towards him. Was he trying to send you a message? No, of course not. It was probably just finals. Most people were on edge during this time.

In the last month of the semester you coincidently found out (thanks to the students in class) that Jungkook has a drawing class 30 minutes after your last class on Friday. With this new information you made plans to sprint over to the Art building to meet Jungkook.

You were just walking down the hall of your building when you spotted… Jungkook?

Interesting.

Is this fate?

This is the time.

He stops next to a class door and leans against the wall, seemingly waiting for someone. You notice then his huge army backpack. For boxing class, he brings a big black duffle bag. This backpack caught you for surprise. You stopped in your tracks staring at the backpack because you’ve seen it before. Plenty of times. In the library, the parking lot, the convenience store in front of the east campus. You’ve sometimes seen it by just passing by. The bag was so big and almost ridiculous that you’re sure most of the student body knows of it. To think that the bag belonged to Jungkook. You’ve never bothered to look at the owner and when you did, they were either far away, at an angle in which you can’t see them, or they had a bucket hat or hoodie over their face. All this time it was Jungkook. To think if you’ve looked or spoken to the person you would have known Jungkook way sooner. All this wasted time.

Is this the coincidence you were dreaming of? Does any of it mean anything? At this point you don’t care. You’re going to talk to Jungkook! Whatever opportunity that is presented to you, you are going to take. You’re almost close to Jungkook, who doesn’t notice you as he’s immersed on his phone, when the classroom door opens with pouring students. You're slightly worried he’s going to leave as the students start obscuring your clear view of him. However, what you don’t miss is the way a pretty girl stops in front of him. He looks up to her and smiles shyly. You can’t really see her face at this angle. You only notice the way Jungkook takes her books from her and follows behind her as she walks to the opposite direction from you.

You felt like you were in a movie. You know the type when the main character is standing in one place and all around her there’s blurs of people moving about. The screen is colored gray and there's sad music playing as you're left there in a daze.

O-kay.

So.

Jungkook has a …he has a… (you can’t’ say it).

Jungkook is-what?

Dating? Has a girl? Not available? Hmmm, maybe he’s not interested in you.

Walking back to your apartment so many questions and conclusions flow around in your head.

Did you ever stop and think he maybe just wasn’t into you? Like what if he just didn’t like you? And not in a bad way. He just doesn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship with you. And here you were thinking he was lucky you were even considering a younger guy like him. Please. Who do you think you are? You’ve acted so arrogant and bitter around him you’re surprised someone as sweet as Taehyung and Jungkook even talks to you.

Reaching your apartment and heading straight to the shower, because the shower is where you make all your final resolutions and get all your ideas, you’ve come to the resolution that you need to stop moping around in class. Second, you like Jungkook, like-like. Third, you are heart broken. And lastly, maybe it’s just not meant to be.

Sometimes things can be blessings in disguises.

You cried in the shower.

Your beautiful roommates were once again there to support you! They even surprised you that weekend by having a little party amongst you and your closest friends. Irene, Maria, Seokjin, Yoongi, and even Mr. Busy Chef Seokjin came along. It was fun and you got drunk. You are going to be okay. You are going to forget Jungkook. It’s the end of the semester anyway and you are leaving town after graduation. It’s for the best.

Right?

Wrong.

Wrong on all parts. You very much like Jungkook. It was confirmed the next time you went to boxing class when your heart didn’t stop thumping. And wrong because you aren’t going to let it go. You felt ridiculous and pretty whore-ish when you still found yourself smiling at him (and did you coyly laugh at his joke just now?) even after knowing he has a girlfriend/ partner/dating/something. (A voice in your head was whispering into your heart that nothing is confirmed yet).

“Jungkook”, you called out his name after the announcements in class. You ran to him and staked your claim on him before anyone else can take him away from you, “Jungkook, can you help me with the exercise from last class, please?”.

He agreed. You walked behind him as he was already heading to your claimed corner. You noticed the disappointed faces of some of your classmates. Taehyung also had a confused face on as he was heading your way for you two to possibly gossip at your corner.

Jungkook helped you with your placements and speed. It was honestly helpful even if you did laugh a bit too loudly or moved in a way you hoped was sensual. At one point you ran out of things to hold him back with, so you must admit defeat and let him go. You smiled at him wildly as he moved to the next student. It was the last month, it wasn’t going to lead anywhere anyways. Which is why you’re trying your best. You were going to see him, talk to him, simply be by him because you’re probably never going to see him again after this.

You connect eyes with Taehyung as he’s walking directly to you. You both held a staring contest till he reached your side. He squints at you. You made a face of a “what”.

He coughed, “So…uhh…you like Jungkook or...?”

You choked on your spit. Were you that obvious?

“Huh? No. What? N-why?”

Taehyung looks at you, “ No reason, just asking.”

He slowly inches away clearly trying to make you less nervous. So, you force your body to relax and just laugh at his antics.

The rest of the class period Taehyung kept sending you looks or raising his eyebrows. You were nervous but soon started to become defensive. You would occasionally mouth “What” at him. Until at the end of class, he finally walked up behind you and whispered “Jungkook”. You jumped back in surprise at his deep voice and most importantly at the name of the owner of your heart.

“Taehyung!” you yelled at him. He laughed, only to stop when Jungkook joins you two. You blushed again and started rubbing your arm afraid Taehyung would tease you again. You all went to gather your things and headed towards the exit to leave class. Taehyung taps your arm to grab your attention. He made the motion of sealing and locking his lips, making it even more noticeable! Your eyes averted to Jungkook only to feel a wave of relief at seeing him typing away at his phone. Thank God.

You give him a face. He chuckles at you.

“Bye__” he said walking away. You rolled your eyes.

“Bye __” Jungkook said with his sweet melodic voice. You smiled at him.

It was the night of the Senior Party and you were ready to forget all about the cute guy in your boxing class. No, not Taehyung but Jungkook. Since you found out about his girlfriend you’ve tried hard to rewire your brain to think of him only as a friend. It was easy because he was such a gentle person. He was kind and funny and so very ambitious. You’ve grown to admire him in many ways. You were happy at where your relationship was (even though you would still like to be involved with him…*cough*romantically….). You weren’t going to be no homewrecker even if it pains your heart to see him smile or see him ruffle his bouncy hair.

Who are you kidding? You are in love with him.

However tonight you are going to forget about him. Tonight was about finally graduating and having a fun night with your friends. You, your roommates and other friends all meet up at a local restaurant before the party. It was fun there stuffing your faces and emptying your glasses, you almost forgot about the party. So, before the buzz faded away you all slipped into an uber off to the streets of the Frats and Sororities that are hosting the party. You were sad that Taehyung wasn’t going to be there. You wanted to introduce him to your friends. A few months ago, he told you he wasn’t going to go and instead booked a trip up North to go camping with his friends Namjoon, Jimin, and Hoseok. Friends who were equally as handsome you thought to yourself last night as you scrolled through his Instagram feed and viewed his story. You should’ve accepted his invite when he jokingly asked you to tag along. Maybe then you would move on from…him.

With your short skirts, dresses and skinny jeans you all swayed into the blockparty-eque event. The music was loud and there were so many people dancing and running around.

“This is practically a carnival, we're only missing the rides” Sohee shouts over the music.

“Lets just go to the main house” you yell back at them.

You all walk the short distance to the largest house in the block, the main source of the party where the DJ, drinks and food is located. Inside the house was empty of furniture leaving every room as a makeshift dance platform.

“This looks complicated!” Sohee complains furrowing her eyebrows “Where do we even begin”

“Lets just look around!” Taeyeon excitedly states turning her head around. You were prepared to see her make a 360 turn. She was Minah's friend who you were surprised to see come to the party. She was a Junior and it wasn’t until the girls told you that night that plus ones were allowed regardless of their year so long as they are students at the University. If you would’ve known you would have “jokingly” invited Jungkook.

After scoping out the house, your group ended up stealing a bag of chips and red cups of lemon soda and vodka. You decided to go to the house next door which belonged to a sorority. (“Maybe they’ll have better drinks” Minah complained).

Entering the house was like a new world, the lights were off and the music was not blaring. It seemed more chill. You walked deeper into the house that had a great atmosphere. Upon entering the kitchen you see the island decked out in different snacks and even mini cupcakes. There is flavored beers and a variety of vodkas, tequilas, juices, and soda. You’ve all shared glances with smiles in your faces. This is your place. You've all grabbed your drinks and you managed to fit two mini cupcakes in your hands before you made your way into the main living room, which like the frat house, was bare of any furnishing. Leaning against the wall with Minah who grabbed cotton candy you sipped on your drinks as you watched the others invade the dance floor.

“You think this was supposed to be a private party?” She asks cutting off a chunk of her cotton candy to feed you.

You thought for a second letting the candy melt in your mouth.

“No,” you told her, meeting her eye. You both laughed. “It would be really stupid if it was, I mean it is the Senior Party thing”.

“Yeah but what if it is and they kick us out”.

You shrugged “Whatever were gone in two weeks anyways. Besides it's on them for hosting it on the same night”.

“I don’t know” Minah continued out with her cotton candy slipping her drink in between each bite. You weren’t sure if she was drunk and just saying something or was actually concerned. You peered your eyes on her face as if to see her better. She was zoned out.

Rolling your eyes you start to look around trying to see your dancing group of friends to join them. You were done with your cupcakes and were ready to drag yourself to them. You thought you saw the Blue sparkle of Tara’s dress. You focused more on the spot only to see these blue sparkles wearing Tara seeming to be dancing or should I say “hugging” someone.

"Oh my gosh, ! LOOK LOOK!” you said slapping Minahs arm.

“What?", she said, trying to catch what you're looking at.

“Tara! She's got herself-“ Your words died in your mouth. For as your eyes traced along this person dress they were meant with a head that did not belong to Tara. First, poor Tara who has the same dress as someone in this room. Second, this person is none other then that girl that Jungkook was with. Your mouth was stood agape for even if your heart broken at the reminder of that girl and the fact that Jungkook was not yours. Your heartbreak and slight jealousy was soon replaced with confusion and then anger. Isn’t this Jungkook's girlfriend? What is she doing grinding on someone who is not Jungkook? No, this guy was not him because you know this guy! He's the famous school pianist whose faces are plastered all over the music building and concert highlights. Min Yoongi. What is she doing? So because Yoongi is a school celeb she's just going to do Jungkook wrong like that. Pretty Jungkook, who smiled at her with a hopeful look in his eyes and carried her books around like some servant. Is your poor baby being played? How dare she? Does she not realize how blessed she is?

“Minah”, you hand her your drink, “wait here”.

You don’t bother for her response and only hear a “what?”

You don’t have time to fill her in about this snake because your adrenaline is pumping in. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's your devotion towards Jungkook. All in the name of love. And if you're not going to be kicked out because it's a private party, you'll probably be kicked out for fighting. You didn’t take boxing for nothing.

Okay…

Maybe not. You're not sure what you're doing and even though you're angry and feel like you need to regain Jungkook's honor, you do have the same part of your brain working and yelling at you to turn back. What the hell do you think you are doing? And who the hell do you even think you are?

You could be on your way to making a complete fool of yourself. But no, you will do anything for Jungkook. Even if it turns out this person is Jungkook's girlfriend's twin and you reveal yourself to be a complete stalker and weirdo.

Your steps seem to move slowly and your skin burning hot from your anger now turns to anxiety. But it was like you couldn’t stop as you neared yourself to her. If you couldn’t confess to Jungkook this was an alternative outlet. By protecting his dignity.

Gosh, is it hot or are you just sweating?

And like a miracle sent from heaven you felt a cold hand wrap itself around your arm halting you in your steps. You tuned your head to see… JUNGKOOK?

“___” he says almost relieved.

You're confused and agaped. You're so caught off guard that you don’t manage to hide your opening mouth.

“Hey” he says softly, almost whispering. He quickly removes his hand around your arm.

His voice brings you back to reality. He always grounds you and neutralizes the nerves in your body. All by being near Jungkook's smiling face.

His smiling face that will soon turn bad. Your stress increases. Your eyes jump from his face to his girlfriend who is still dancing on Yoongi. Jungkook follows your eyes as he notices the stress evident on your face. What's wrong? Jungkook slightly steps in front of you as if to shield you from whatever your eyes keep returning to.

You reach out your hand trying to stop Jungkook from seeing the scene of his girlfriend dancing with another guy, but it's too late. Jungkook is staring ahead for a couple seconds.

Jungkook looks around trying to see what is catching your attention. He catches the sight of his cousin dancing on some guy. Putting a childish face on when she turns her head over to make out with him. Jungkook turns back to you with concern on his face at your still evident distress.

You watch as Jungkook quickly turns around. You see his concerned eyes and frowned lips. No, not to Jungkook. This won't happen to him, you wont allow it. Regaining your energy to confront this snake you move closer to him

“I’m sorry”

“So you want a drink?”

Is he trying to change the subject? Maybe they just broke up and you just reopened his wound.

You give him a smile of sympathy and pull him in for a hug. Yes, you were being forward but you are proud to admit that you didn’t hug him with any malicious or secretive motive. You just care for him so much that you want him to always be happy. You don’t know what happened between him and his girlfriend but you want him to know that he has you. That it is okay.

Jungkook stills in your embrace. You hug him tighter and are happy to finally feel him relax into your hug wrapping his arms around your lower body.

Jungkook is surprised and perhaps dreaming. When you jumped into his embrace he almost didn't know what he did to earn this. Your perfume was swaying in his brain until he saw the teasing expression on his cousin's face.

She winked at him, which caused his cheeks to heat up. So he quickly pulls away from you and coughs.

“So uhh, no drink?” he asks once more unsure of what to say.

You saw his blushing face, maybe you did too much but you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing when you heard a loud laugh at your side. You turn and sure enough see her laughing with the guy.

You step closer to Jungkook so you could whisper slowly to him, "Did you guys break up?”

Jungkook tilts his head in confusion but before he can continue you stop him.

“Its okay you don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry”

“__what are you sorry for?”

You nod your head towards her who continues to dance with the “other man”.

Jungkook squints his eyes at you after having looked in the direction that you head nodded towards. You see the confusion settle onto his face, waiting for you to continue whatever observation you are trying to make.

You decided to end his misery, 'He's obviously too embarrassed to admit it' you thought to yourself.

"I saw you guys together...", you say, trying your best to say the rest with your eyes. You watch as the realization hits his face. His lips formed a tiny 'oh', only to let out an "ah" followed by a short chuckle.

Following his amused response you felt embarrassed. Maybe you stepped out of line and he's going to thank you for rubbing salt into his wounds.

"Sorry" you blurt out trying to save what's left of the respect Jungkook has for you. " I should've stayed quiet..".

At this Jungkook laughs loudly only ending it with a...a coo? He leans closer to your ear so you can hear him clearly.

"Follow me"

You don't got to be told twice.

You follow him through the throngs of people, pass the kitchen, through the back door. You almost tumbled out the door but was captured by the cold air hitting your skin. You rub your arms weary of letting Jungkook see because you didn't want him to reconsider the whole idea and go back inside. You wanted to be alone with him out here. it was nice. You followed him to the bench that rocked back and forth. It was gray with a top cover. He sat on it waiting for you to join him as he tried his best to stabilize the bench by planting his feet to the ground. You gave him a small 'thanks' as you settled yourself next to him. You made sure to keep enough space between the two as to not make him uncomfortable.

Jungkook felt his heart beat in his chest a contrast to the cool night that was at a standstill compared to the house and loud music not only a few feet away. He was grateful for the noise and lights that came from the house and fencing of the backyard, as it gave his shaky breath a cover from being heard by you. He sneaked a glance at you and saw as you sat seated next to him. You followed him out here into the cold. He noticed as you rubbed your hands on your arms. At this point Jungkook knows what comes next. He should offer you his jacket, but he wasn't wearing anything. He opted for a button down, he had no reason for any other fabric. He thought he would spend most of the night in a packed house or street with so much body heat. He felt like a kid scared to look at their crush. He didn't know what to do from this point on. Having a surge of confidence at the probability that you cared for him. If you being concerned about his alleged heartbreak was anything to go by. Jungkook wants to hold onto the care you had for him no matter how small it was. He knew you were a senior who was set to go out of town. His dreams of being with you seemed like a lost hope by now. At this point he just wanted to stay by your side, just to talk, even if just for a day.

One thing Jungkook became sure of as you both stared silently at the moon was that this right here was more than he could have ever wished for.

You were the one to break the silence.

You figured you should clear the air after your assumptions.

"So how are you holding out?"

Jungkook was about to give you a generic answer until he remembered what happened inside.

"I feel perfect" he answered honestly

You give him a confused look.

Man, you thought for sure Jungkook would be heartbroken, now you're thinking of the possibility that he left her.

Jungkook suppressed his giggles and decided to come clean to you. To tell you the truth. That's all he wants for the both of you.

"You know you can come to the senior bash if you're invited by a senior"

You nod not sure where this is going.

"I asked my cousin to let me go with her" Your eyes widened

Cousin?

"I was going to go with Taehyung but he had other plans. My cousin said yes...with the condition that I become her "assistant", Jungkook makes air quotations at the word. You smiled at the playful annoyance. "So I helped her with her courses, and followed her around everywhere. Honestly". He leans in closer pointing at the colorful lights that adorned the roof of the house. "You see those lights? I hung them up all yesterday and when you go inside that dessert table was recently bought from Ikea, I had to set it up". He slumps his shoulders.

"So was it worth it?" you ask not helping the giggles that escape your mouth at his behavior.

Jungkook turns to face you. The first time you both make eye contact since reaching the bench.

"Yeah" he says softly, "I'll say it was worth it".

You avert your eyes and turn your face. A struggle but your fear of letting him see the absolute shyness you knew ozed out won over. You needed to protect yourself and most importantly him. You didn't want to scare him or offend him anymore then you already have.

Not wanting to lose the momentum of the conversation, Jungkook spurts out the first thing in his mind.

"So where are you going after you graduate?"

For some reason you didn't want to answer. It would make it way more real. The fact that you wouldn't see him anymore and that hurt. At that moment with the distant music that pouned throughout the earth, with the laughter you hear from inside the house, the light of the moon and lights from the house, the coldness that you feel around your arms and neck become fuel for you. If this was going to be your last moment with him then you should make the best out of it. Maybe even let yourself become vulnerable in every sense of the word. If just for one day, you wanted to be completely honest and open with Jungkook.

"I got an internship two hours away" you say looking at the ground, "I'll be kind of far, but maybe not so much" you don't know what you're saying, mostly just trying to convince yourself. You looked at him and are willing to say he looked almost sad. You don't know why he looks down now. You just know it made you feel worse. You want your time with him to be happy and fun. Even if it hurts later. You don't know why hes sad and you may make yourslef look completely stupid but in this moment you wieghed your options. If he answers positively you can leave with hope. If it's negative...well...at least you won't have to see him again. That thought makes you frown and scares you. It scares you so much that you couldn't even stop yourself from asking the next question if you tired.

"Do you want to wait for me?"

You both look surprised at your question.

Jungkook remains silent, so you repeat the question already feeling the adrenaline rush from your confession.

"Jungkook, do you want to wait for me?" You ask him again with hopeful eyes.

"Ar-are you pr-proposing?" He was so in shock he didn't have time to register his childhood stutter to make an appearance.

Normally you would have been frozen out of embarrassment and shock. Truthfully, you were bewildered at your actions. But it must be the power of the moon that shines above you both. Or maybe it's the alarm in your heart telling you this may be your only chance. You take a breath and give jungkook a soft smile. One that said 'yes I like you and it's okay if you don't'. You watch as he takes a moment to gather himself.

Hmm.. maybe you should have been more clear on your love confession. You were about to open your mouth to explain when he turned his body to face you. He reaches out for your hand to hold it in between his two large ones. You watch as your hands disappear inside of his.

Okay, maybe you were freaking out a little bit.

The warmth from his hands begins to travel from your arm to all of your body. Your heart beating fast against your chest as you decided to finally look him in the eye.

"Why wait?" Jungkook says.

FIN

[tsuumu]

hq boys and their part time jobs.

yet another unseries headcanon post made by yours truly! unlike my last one which you can find here, i won’t be involving every single major hq character so that’s just a heads up!! i can’t always envision stuff fully with every single person...

kageyama tobio: this boy thought that applying to work part-time at a sports shop would be fitting ‘cause of his love for volleyball, completely unaware that this would involve way too much social interaction and tolerance???? like he thought he’d just have to look like someone who does sports and occasionally restock yoga mats but these loud ass kids are coming up to him asking for this that and the other for sports he’s never heard of. suddenly he regrets the entire thing. plus, he has no idea how to use the cash register and it’s his worse nightmare to ring up items without wanting to stomp a hole into it to get the customer’s change.

hinata shoyo: shoyo went straight for the pet shelter because he’s in love with playing with the little puppies. this boy will full on roll around with them, stuff them under his shirt so their heads poke out and just.. intergrate and become one of them... the doggies love him so much n always clamber to sit on his lap because hinata treats them with so much love and kindness!! customers looking for pets often joke about taking him home bc he’s just as excitable and friendly as the actual dogs. he’s also really good at convincing people on the fence to get a pet and explaining their individual personalities because he knows them so well :(

nishinoya yuu: he said: supermarket assistant so he could ride around on the carts, intimidates literally every customer with his ungodly enthusiasm but is determined to help EVERYONE, he’ll run around the store taking people where they need to go but only if he actually remembers where they’re situated. otherwise this boy is like “yeah they’re just... that way.” and bolts in the other direction. gets along with all his colleagues and tells them all about his tournaments with karasuno. he’s not the star employee but it wouldn’t be the same w out him.. often asks the manager if he can taste test the market’s pastry section to which he is rejected every single time.

tanaka ryuu: he’s convinced working in his local gym was him in his element, he wears that tag thing like a badge of honour and just walks around showing people he works there instead of actually doing his job??? he’s also overly enthusiastic and will sometimes cheer on the people working out as if he’s some kind of zealous personal trainer and everybody is like “literally how old is this guy??” he’s surprisingly awesome at reception duty because he’s always chatting to regulars about how they’re doing... the practical side like schedules and paperwork he leaves for someone else, everyone just puts up with him bc he’s a mood setter.

sugawara koushi: don’t get me started on this boy as a teacher’s assistant, like he helps little kids out with their work, tidies up the class during their break times and reads them stories?? he’s THAT senior boy who’s the biggest sweetheart and seeing him handle kids so well is like ... does he want some of his own ?? i’d like to offer my expertise he’s always got a smile on his face, gets along with all the staff much older than him, he’s like this perfect boy they all dote on and he gets super flustered saying he just really likes helping out the children and making them smile. often brings them little snacks too and they all call him big brother BYE.

tsukkishima kei: he does some low-key shit that’s kinda wholesome like working with the eldery or tutoring kids but prefers for literally nobody to know about it because anything he does outside of school is his business. he does it because it’s good pay, there’s not much else to it. if anybody found out he’d be super irritated tbh it’s just an invasion of privacy to him but eventually wouldn’t care because every kid is getting part-time jobs these days.

oikawa tooru: bye he’s THAT guy who got his job at a retail store because he’s pretty. like he has no real interest in clothes or anything but he takes the job as a place to validate himself when girls come up to him purposefully to flirt. he’s winking and laughing with them and also NOT actually doing his job but he brings in customers so at least he’s somewhat useful. doesn’t know how to fold clothes or hang stuff on hangers properly for shit and everyone lowkey wants to kick his ass but he’s actually very friendly and outgoing even if he has no clue what he’s doing. keeps asking if bra sizes come in small, medium and large and everyone just tells him to shut up.

iwaizumi hajime: when picking a job he was like “well what am i good at?” and went from there. he ended up as the local pool’s weekend lifeguard because he had the qualifications and time. again, everyone his age just tries to hit on him and he’s annoyed because it distracts him from the actual purpose of his job. he takes it seriously and impresses his colleagues with his swimming talent and knowledge on first aid. iwaizumi lowkey scares the little kids and they’re kind of afraid to ask him for help so he’s been working on looking a little more friendly.

kuroo tetsurou: kuroo as a tennis instructor assistant or just something sporty other than volleyball because he’s a multi-talented king?? like he’s not a professional by any means but he helps out the youth club and gets along with kids a few years younger than him. fills in for refs at tournaments, makes sure equipment is safe to use and is SUPER good at cheering club goers up when they lose or fail or can’t seem to do it correctly. he often refers to his experiences as nekoma’s captain to relate to them and they really admire his resilience and ask him to tell them more stories!!

kenma kozume: had to be dragged out to do a part-time job. was absolutely against the thought of it until hinata mentioned a friend of his who’d moved to the prefecture near kenma got a job at this new game shop. he was like fine and applied. he just kinda sat and people asked him questions about the games but he refused to do any further socialisation or actual grunt work like shelving, he quit pretty soon after, he just wanted the money to buy a game he ended up purchasing on his way out lmaoo

bokuto koutarou: he was dead set on having a volleyball related job, fukurodani have a club for junior players from all over the city to come and practice together. he was like?!? “and nobody told me??” he’s perfect for it as the captain and ends up as a secondary coach. he shows off A LOT and like kuroo, encourages the kids when they’re down. except kuroo is a more sit down, hand on shoulder, casual talk kind of guy. bokuto gets ridiculously sentimental and tells them dramatically about his lowest memories as captain when fukurodani lost and the kids are genuinely as emotional because of he way he tells it??? idk but they love him and he’s a ball of passion that keeps them going.

akaashi keiji: we are talking pretty waiter at a local gormet restaurant that gets tipped SO MUCH for his true professionalism. knows how to handle every situation with ease and is super calm, doesn’t care at all if someone from his school is there. he’s really just chasing that bag and he’s doing it well. bokuto often picks him up after his shifts so they can do stuff together but akaashi requests it be something calming since he’s tired after work... bokuto is like,, “so no to rock-climbing? alright i’ll reschedule..” the other waiters lowkey HATE the fact he gets tipped so well and they try and figure out his secrets. he has none. he’s just good at his job. i could see kiyoko working a similar job or somewhere lowkey like a flourist or bakery. she’s equally as professional and admired.

ushijima wakatoshi: ANY JOB. give this man any job and he’ll be able to carry it out like he’s been doing it since he popped out the womb. often mistaken for a grown adult so he gets jobs pretty easily? very very professional and aims to do everything perfectly. i think he’d also prefer a vb related job just like bokuto but something that could really get him somewhere big, smth to do with olympics like a paid internship for them .. can you even intern for the olympics lmao?? maybe something for the japanese team. it’s a lot of work to balance school & intern life but he’s very comitted and knows it’ll benefit him in the future. (kageyama was fuming when he found out he could have done that instead of his current gig).

tendou satori: has a job he’s very under-qualified for but somehow pulls off. he’s chilling at the hospital or law firm three times a week after classes or somewhere ridiculous but he’s doing just fine!! doesn’t actually do professional work n helps with small things but it impresses the hell out of everybody he tells, has no interest in persuing those careers but it’s fun for him, he gets paid VERY well for a boy his age and his personality creates a nice, talkative atmosphere in these seemingly tense environments.

miya atsumu / osamu: they both work at a café for novelty because they’re these handsome, athletic twins and it’s a thing that brings people in. they do a lot of fan service stuff and osamu is EXCELLENT like he was made for this job but atsumu is awful at keeping his cool. osamu will be chatting up customers, trying to persuade them to order more and atsumu is having a heated tustle with the coffee machine that’s broken down for the third time that day and it really ruins the magic osamu is trying to create. atsumu has probably sworn loudly. has probably almost been fired. he’s bad at playing along and flirting because he literally just wants them to leave so he can sit down lmao. osamu uses the pastries in the café as inspiration for his own at-home baking fiascos because it’s a stress-reliving hobby.

terushima yuji: he’s that boy in shoe shops that tries to sell you sneakers and he knows literally everything about them even when you really didn’t ask... looking to hit on girls that come in because shoe knowledge is obviously very sexy! alternatively you might catch him in a tattoo shop or sumn real appearance based and he definitely remembers all the regulars and greets them like they’re close friends, we’re talking inside jokes. always seems to know what tattoo people are looking to get purely based on their appearance and initial impression...

the list of unemployed:

yachi: too scared to do ANY job that requires interaction, she’s plagued by it.

hoshiumi: fired for picking too many fights with customers.

kyotani: EVEN WORSE THAN HOSHIUMI though he was strangely very efficient at paperwork.

suna: quit on the first day because it wasn’t what he expected and he doesn’t care about money that much.

lev: his family are like.... rich?? n nobody really expected it but he’s like yeah i really do not need one of those lmao.

yamaguchi: broke things, spilt things, smashed things. he really was trying his best..

aone: intimidated customers too much so they let him go (he was just STANDING THERE.. he deserved better).

sakusa: local venues are filthy, ushijima got the internship spot, no other job interests him enough to persue.

[hecticcheer]

Abyss of Possibilities (T/M/A fic)

Finished the platonic Jon&Daisy sickfic thing!! This was based on an emeto prompt,* but I’m posting it here instead of on shiftytracts because. Frankly it comes out a lot better when considered as h/c or whump than as emeto/kink fic. As usual w/ me, I set out to write the latter and instead got? 4.6k of Daisy character study whose external plot happens to be that Jon throws up? Ft. also a little Melanie&Helen friendship. It’s not bad as a story though so I’m posting it anyway.

--

Basira was out on another mysterious errand, which Daisy figured put her and Jon in about the same wretched position. Scratching and baying at the doors of their owners’ empty houses. Commiserating with him seemed a better use of her time. What was more, Jon had spent all day wobbly and coughing—fingertips leaving trails of slime on everything he touched like a snail—and she still couldn’t stand to see that in a person she’d made one of her own. (Monster she’d made one of her own. Whichever.) So after one of his more pathetic fits of coughing she’d decided to make them both tea. It started out as an excuse to leave the room; in fact she’d told him she’d had to pee. But when she’d come to the fork in the hallway her legs had taken her several steps past the turning for the bathroom before she’d noticed her mistake, and, yeah, well. Steps were a limited resource these days. So she’d talked herself into going to the break room for tea instead, and figured if she made Jon some too then.

Well—it was just?—she felt like a hypocrite, alright. She’d told Jon in the coffin that she didn’t want to hobble around like wounded prey any more than she wanted to become a hunter again, but, since he’d pulled her out she’d pretty clearly picked the prey side? Complete with literal hobbling, especially those first few weeks. And he was good to her about it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to despise weak people anymore. It troubled her to know that was her—that she’d still felt it in the coffin where her thoughts were all her own.

Daisy managed to stay upright unsupported while the kettle boiled—hadn’t even had to take a break to sit before turning it on. But while waiting for their teas to steep she leant her palms on the low, cool countertop, even though shifting her weight to them at once made her upper arms ache a little. The muscles of her calves dully throbbed, and her ankles itched. She swore she could feel them swelling. Could picture the mottled pattern of orange and purple her legs must be turning, like the wallpaper at one of those cafés that haven’t been redone since before she was born. They’d told her at PT that the muscle atrophy would take a long time to repair, but that these other issues should go away on their own after a few weeks. It had seemed to improve, at first. Getting worse again now though.

When she got back to his office she found Jon frozen halfway through peeling himself back off his desk, elbows wobbling, like an old dog on a slippery floor. Must’ve Seen her coming back, she figured. He did a little smile, but that didn’t last long. “Here,” she informed him, setting the worse of two novelty mugs in front of him. “Tea.”

“Oh!” Jon’s eyes went wide; he didn’t smile again, but looked almost frightened. Like she’d opened an abyss of possibilities. The mug said #1 Pervert, with the 1 wearing an evil smile and a trench coat held wide open. This seemed to faze Jon not at all.

“It’s just tea. No need to look like that.”

“R-right. Thanks?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Now drink up, it’ll help with your.”

“Oh,” Jon said again. “Yes.”

He picked up the mug, looked inside, then set it back down without drinking any. Daisy got halfway through a sigh before worrying this counted as despising him, then made herself laugh instead and pat the back of his hand: “That’s the spirit.” Jon flinched, but seemed to want to own that no more than she wanted to own her sigh. He closed his eyes, and his hand relaxed under hers. Breath seemed to whistle and crunch on its way out his nose.

“You ill?”

“Wha—?”

“I said are you ill.”

Another half second of smile. “Maybe.”

“Hm. Good sign, right?” Jon blinked at her. “A point in the still-human column.”

“R…ight,” he said. The way his eyes changed made her suspect he had more to say on that, but for once in his life Jon seemed not to feel like talking.

“Take a break. Archers’ll be on soon.”

Usually when she mentioned The Archers Jon would do a whole big dramatic show of disgust, a long sigh or a snarl or a choking noise or at least an eye-roll. He exhaled, now, but shortly; it flared his nostrils a little, but that seemed all the drama he could muster. “Thought you heard it last night.”

“You didn’t, though,” Daisy grinned. “Get confused if you don’t keep up.”

They’d had this conversation before; he knew his next line. But his voice caught on something about three words in: “You seemed to”—swallow; another deep, crunchy exhale—“you seemed to do alright after eight months under a rock.”

“You’ll have unanswered questions. Can’t compel the radio.”

Another swallow, then a throat clearing. “Fine.”

Daisy stood and waded toward the couch in the opposite corner of his office, where he’d slept since he woke up after the Unknowing. By the time she took her seat and looked back, Jon had stood from his desk chair but not yet moved. Just stood there with his hands on the chair’s back, staring off into nothing. Typical. But she knew he did no better than her with standing still for long periods, lately. She thumped on the arm of the couch to snap him out of his trance. “Come here, Jon.” It worked; he blinked to life, gave her a disorganized smile, and slunk over to join her. When he sat his legs shook the whole couch. He sat down at the far end, as often, but, no more unusually, when she scooted closer so their legs and shoulders touched he leant his head toward hers til his hair crunched against the outside of her ear. Daisy patted his leg with one hand, and reached for his clock radio with the other. (This was one of few non-clothing items he’d bothered to replace when he lost his flat. Apparently its alarm made the only noise he trusted himself to take seriously as a wake-up call; every other one he had tried he would sleep through, either accidentally or out of spite.) She set it on her knee so she could monitor the time, but kept the radio muted for now. Only 1:43.

By 1:49 she noticed Jon starting to nod off; by 1:54 his chin seemed stuck to his chest for good. At 2:02 she turned up the volume dial on his radio, and, sure enough, heard the Archers theme song. Considered just turning it up loud enough to wake Jon, but figured he’d be certain to sleep through that out of spite. So she shook him by the shoulder instead. “Oi! Ceaseless watcher!”

“Mmmnnnwha? Oh,” Jon said, straightening. Then he bent forward to cough again. Daisy channeled her urge to snarl into a laugh, telling herself she felt sorry rather than annoyed.

His cough seemed stuck, just like it had all day but more so. It was almost all voice—none of that other, less personal noise a satisfying cough makes. She wondered if he was trying to keep quiet for her benefit. “Come on, let it out,” she told him, thumping the back of his shoulder—and he did.

Almost as soon as she touched him, he made another noise more like—well, more like the sounds they’d both made underground. Or like when she’d cut him, back before.

Anyway, and then a splash. And then a stench. Daisy yelped and flung her legs out of the way; the radio went silent as the clock’s plug flew out of the wall.

“Oh shit!”

Between dry heaves and gasps for breath Jon croaked, “Not technically.”

She barked a laugh—through her mouth, not her nose—but held back the impulse to elbow him. Learnt that lesson, thanks. Just kept her hand on his shoulder instead, fanning her fingers back and forth in a semi-circle like windshield wipers. Meanwhile she surveyed the damage he’d made. The clock itself seemed miraculously unharmed, dangling by its cord between her knees. Only a little of the cord had fallen into the puddle—unfortunately including the plug. That’d be a bitch to clean up. Should she try to get the smell out or just buy him a new one, she wondered.

Her shoes had fared pretty well, too. Only one fat droplet on the right one’s toe, where it’d come off easy. His might be ruined though—and the socks. Poor bastard picked a hell of a day for white socks. The trousers might survive; vomit washed out easier than blood.

Beside her, Jon seemed to have quit dry heaving. Now he just panted, and said, “Ugh.”

“Done?”

“Think so,” he said in his hoarsest voice; “sorry.”

He set his palm down on the arm of the couch, apparently plotting how to stand without slipping in puke. Daisy moved her hand from his shoulder inward, to the place where his neckbones turned into backbones, and pressed him gently downward. “Never mind; I’ll clean it up. You stay here.”

Jon said nothing, but didn’t move either. Not even a flinch. Daisy slid to the end of the couch farthest from him and his puddle, stood, and crept past it on the balls of her feet, careful to avoid all the puddle’s little splattery fingers.

This was the first Archives mess Daisy’d ever volunteered to clean; only after she’d closed the door of Jon’s office behind her did she realize she should’ve asked him where they kept the mops and buckets. Probably outside the Archives proper, near the boiler and all that crap. Her stomach dropped—settling halfway down her legs, like all her innards did these days when she stood up. Melanie’s desk was empty, but Daisy shouted for her just in case.

The first door Daisy encountered whose destination she didn’t already know led to… a long corridor full of more doors. “Hi, Helen. Melanie in here with you?”

Melanie emerged, not from any of the doors Daisy could see, but from what looked to Daisy like the blank wall in between them. Just the perspective, part of Daisy’s mind rushed in to inform her. She closed her eyes so she could roll them at this part unseen.

“Daisy, hi,” said Melanie. “What’re you doing here, I didn’t think….”

“I invited her in.” Daisy heard the words a full second before she saw Helen emerge from a picture frame in the corridor’s opposite wall. “She was looking for an unfamiliar door. It seemed only polite to offer one of mine.” Helen said this with her head cocked to one side, coiled hands facing the other. Her left elbow disappeared into the wall.

Daisy made herself look into a framed mirror on the opposite wall instead of at Helen herself. Except the mirror didn’t show Daisy or Melanie or Helen—just the floor and other wall of this same corridor. Except also that in what passed here for real life the wall was a dark, 70s yellow, while, in the mirror or picture or whatever, it was more like highlighter yellow. What she saw in the frame still moved like a reflection though, not like a painting.

It was hard for Daisy, still, to be around… beings like the Distortion. Monsters used to be so simple. See someone glitching through the wall? Great; that means they need to die. Not like she’d never cooperated with an enemy before, just. Helen maybe wasn’t an enemy? And Jon was the only non-enemy monster she knew how to interact with. Jon was one of hers, now; he was a friend, the opposite of an enemy. But Helen, God, who knew. Stranded in the middle somewhere. Around Helen Daisy felt like the last person standing in musical chairs.

She shifted on her feet; her ankles still itched, but her toes had gone numb and cold. “I was looking for a mop,” she corrected.

When she looked back over at Melanie and Helen she found them sat on an invisible bench. She glanced back at the mirror. A wooden bench with green velour cushions. Made sense enough. Melanie still had her cane, after Jon and Basira’s whole surgery debacle; she wouldn’t come in here so often if it had nowhere to sit. If Daisy squatted down would another bench appear beneath her?

“Oh,” said Melanie; “yeah, there should be one in the broom cupboard. You remember how to get to Artefact Storage, right?” Daisy nodded. “Well it’s the last door on the left before you get there.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“No problem. What do you need the mop for?—is it—do you need some help?”

Daisy said, too quickly, “No I’ve got it.” Then worried Melanie might think she was hiding something of hers or Jon’s more sinister than dignity. She let out a long breath through her nose, lifted her foot and pointed at the circle of puke on her shoe. “Nothing big. Jon just threw up all over his office.”

“Statements gone moldy?” asked Helen, in that voice of hers like a doorbell.

“Oh, god, yeah—did he finally find that Corruption statement covered in actual mold?”

“Thought Martin burned that one?”

Melanie sighed. “No. Said he didn’t want to stink up Jon’s office.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy scoffed.

“Probably just didn’t want to burn any that weren’t already on tape,” muttered Melanie. “Got him to burn the first one I ever recorded, though. That one about the stupid blanket.” She scuffed the carpet with her foot, crossed her arms, and leant the back of her head against the wall. “So. What’s wrong with Jon this time.”

“Don’t know,” said Daisy, shrugging; “think he’s just ill.”

“Huh. Wait—human ill or monster ill?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

“It can be hard to tell,” allowed Helen. “They look remarkably similar. The first time Michael lost his lunch after he became me he thought his sick would have comic-book stink lines curling up off it. Terrible disappointment.”

Don’t ask what “lunch” means, Daisy told herself, scratching lightly at the pad of her thumb with her middle fingernail. Not your business, not anymore.

Meanwhile Melanie cackled and stamped her foot. “What about Helen?”

“She hoped she could click our fingers and make it disappear.”

Now Daisy smiled too. “Have to try that with Jon’s.”

(“Or turn to gold,” mused Helen, chin resting in the palm of a hand so long she could still click its fingers without their nails poking her face.)

“So you’re cleaning it up for him?”

“Apparently.”

“Typical,” growled Melanie; Daisy could see another I-hate-the-Archives rant on the horizon.

“I chose to do it; it’s not like he made me.”

“That’s what people always say about him!” Melanie squawked, her fingers curled like claws. Her voice had begun to climb not only in volume, but pitch too, the way it did when she hoped to pass off real anger as jokey anger. “He’s a grown man—why can’t he keep his messes to himself?”

“Yeah, well, he’s cleaned up enough of mine,” shrugged Daisy. “You all have,” she added, remembering her first week out of the coffin, when Melanie and Basira had had to follow her and Jon around the Archives with brooms. Every morning Basira had shaken her cot and pillow cases and sleeping bags over a bin to tease out clods of dirt. And Daisy herself had never even learnt where the broom cupboard was. “I don’t mind returning the favor.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Melanie pleaded. “You’re talking about the coffin, right? But it’s his fault you got trapped in there in the first place!”

Daisy had no reply to this; she remembered asking herself whose fault it was she had died (as she’d thought of it then), while trapped in the Buried, but couldn’t remember what conclusion she had come to. Since she’d got out she’d rather enjoyed not having to think about it. Maybe she could put questions of blame off to one side, in the Hunt pile, and focus her energy on the Daisy pile.

“Last door on the left before you hit Artefact Storage, right?”

“Yup!” she heard Helen chime on her way out.

Of course, the second she stepped out of the corridors she thought of a good comeback: Guess he did clean that one up then.

To revenge herself for that detour she let herself sit on Melanie’s desk a minute before continuing. Good thing, too: carrying even a dry mop and bucket back to Jon’s office took more out of her than she’d remembered to anticipate. When already dizzy and aching she found the smell of his puke overwhelming. If he notices, blame it on the Hunt, she told herself. It took constant effort to remember to breathe through her mouth rather than just holding it.

Jon looked up when she came in, and smiled a glum thank you, but then returned to the position he must have taken up while she was out: head on his knees, arms crossed between torso and legs. So when she’d mopped up everywhere else, she had to tell him, “Shoes.”

He lifted his head and looked up at her through the gap between curtains of hair. “Wh…what do you want me to do with them.”

She pointed upward; his brows crumpled.

“Lift them up so I can clean around them, Jon.”

“Oh.”

Jon looked slowly down at his feet, bared his teeth in disgust. Then he sat up enough to free one arm, whose hand he planted beside him on the couch. Gingerly lifted the opposite foot. Daisy nodded; he was doing his best, she told herself. “Thanks,” she said aloud. He nodded back, but did not smile or speak. His mouth remained a washed-out line of effort.

Daisy’s mop slurped up the part of the mess Jon’s foot had blocked off; then she used it to dab at the sole of his shoe itself. “Put it back down now and I’ll get the top.” He yelped when the mop wet his sock. Daisy tried not to smile. “That feel weird? Sorry. Just figured those socks were done for anyway.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just. Unpleasant,” he concluded, beginning his final sentence at the same time Daisy started her own.

She said, “I’ll help you off with them when I’m done here.”

“I can get it,” Jon said, but did not move.

This time Daisy did smile, before she could think better of it. “Other foot?”

“Right.”

After finishing with that shoe, Daisy told Jon to hang his feet off the arm of the couch while she corralled as much as she could of this vaguely puke-flavored water off the floor and back into the bucket. She expected him to stretch the rest of himself out on the couch, but instead he bent double—as before, but with one side leant against the couch’s back cushion. Chin on bent forearms on bent knees on arm of couch.

“Do you think it’s safe to clean the plug off with the mop?”

His head snapped around to face her. “What?”

Daisy sighed, trying to rearrange her shapeless panting mouth into a smile. “The plug at the end of the cord—not the one in the wall.”

“Oh. Maybe? It’s not plugged in, right.”

“‘Course not.”

“Then I don’t think you’ll be electrocuted.”

“But do you think it’ll ruin the clock?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Can’t you ask the Eye or something?”

Jon shook his head, which he then set in his hand as though to keep it out of danger. “Maybe it’s like a phone.”

“Come again?”

“Like when you drop your phone in the toilet.”

“Yeah? What happens then.”

“You leave it in rice for 48 hours.”

“In rice?”

“Dry rice. Uncooked rice.”

Again she sighed. “Right.”

“Wait, no”—his eyes went wide—“the rice thing is a myth.”

“What?”

“Silica packets might work though.”

“What are those.”

“Like you get with a new pair of shoes.”

“Huh.”

“They say ‘Do Not Eat’ on them. Usually in inverted commas, for some reason.”

“Oh. Yeah. What happens if you do eat those?”

“No idea. They’re a drying agent, so, they dehydrate you I guess?”

“To death?”

“Possibly.”

“Weird.”

“Nope—scratch that. Turns out they’re just a choking hazard.”

“Oh.”

“A-and we can’t digest them, so if you eat a lot of them they could cause intestinal blockage.”

“Bleugh,” pronounced Daisy.

“Oh, and. Sorry we missed The Archers, by the way.”

“It’s fine, Jon. I heard it last night. I’ll catch you up on it later.”

There was his usual snarl. When Daisy looked smilingly up at him, though, meaning to add, Feeling better, are we? she saw him flinch like he’d been nodding off to sleep again. “So should I mop off the plug or not?”

“Oh. Yeah, seems worth a try.”

By the time Daisy got the floor as un-wet and -soapy as she knew how, she figured neither one of them had the energy to deal with Jon’s shoes. Nor had she the strength to drag the bucket away just yet. Instead she nudged it toward Jon, in case he had to puke again. Then she sat down next to him, so the side of her bum touched the back of his—though from this angle that was a lot less cushy. Mostly tailbone, in fact.

To free her feet from the suffocating heat that made them itch and buzz Daisy yanked off her own shoes (the right one now sick-free but soggy), without untying them, and plopped them down on the couch’s unused other arm. Rested the back of her head on the back of the couch, and closed her eyes. Her whole body throbbed and itched instead of sweating. It was new; maybe a coffin thing, maybe a Hunt-withdrawal thing. Probably the latter. (Oh—I have that too, Jon had said once, when she’d had to explain why her face and hands were red.) Never thought she’d miss feeling slimy.

When she found the strength to speak again she asked, “You comfortable like that?”

“Er,” said Jon. Then, after a pause, in a hoarser voice, “My legs are asleep.”

Daisy smiled, and then, when she remembered he wouldn’t see that, huffed a single syllable of laughter. “No wonder, smooshed up like that. Stretch out, if you like; you won’t be in my way.”

He complied at once, but said, “But then your legs will fall asleep.”

“Probably. I’ll let you know.”

He laid down across her now, or at least his torso did. His head spilled off one side of her lap, legs off the other. Daisy helped him shove the couch’s one throw pillow (now the one he slept with, when he slept) under his head.

“You don’t find this—claustrophobic?” Jon asked, after going to all the trouble to get himself comfortable.

“No.” Daisy blinked, trying not to show how much questions like this irritated her. She wouldn’t break like a china doll if you touched her, Basira. Human weight wasn’t like the Buried. Humans were warm and squishy, and they smelled like life; even vomit smelled better than grave dirt. But at least Basira had a good excuse not to understand that? Coming from Jon it didn’t make any sense. When he’d reached her down there, the first thing he did was take her hand and squeeze. She didn’t know if he’d done that to reassure her or himself or both, but—it shouldn’t matter, right? If he’d known to do that then, why didn’t he know now?

At last she went on, “You said it’s called Too Close I Cannot Breathe. Don’t breathe through my legs, do I?”

“N—?—no. No, I guess not.”

He closed his eyes. Daisy could feel his flesh deflate and ooze outward as the muscles relaxed. This felt like a lot, coming from someone she’d first known as a paranoid little freak. How could he trust her so much, when—? It made her smile, even though she knew only Elias would see. Could muscle atrophy make it hurt to smile?

“Hey Jon?” she waited for his answering Hm. “What’s with the #1 Pervert mug?”

“Oh. Er—Tim.”

“Uh huh…?”

“There was, uh—a statement? Wh-when we first came to the Archives, we looked into a statement given by a man who found a Leitner in a charity shop.”

“Aaand you sent Tim to check out the shop’s records.”

Jon nodded, to the extent that was possible in his position, but his Yeah came out inaudible. “Martin had recently broke one of the mugs that came with—that Gertrude and her assistants left. So, Tim, in a, uh, perhaps a slight overreaction, bought every novelty mug in the establishment.”

“Every mug? I only saw six in there.”

“Or so he told me.”

“Doubt it. That collection looks curated. I didn’t see a single teddy bear, or. Souvenir from a breast-cancer walk.”

“I didn’t press him on it.”

“Right,” Daisy scoffed.

“Sasha used”—a trumpetty nose-laugh interrupted Jon’s sentence—“Sasha used to joke they should be in Artefact Storage.”

“Well she’d know best. Didn’t you say she used to work there?”

“Yes!” Jon squeaked, in a delighted whisper-shout. One hand covered his face; the other fist shook in the air. “She had literal horror stories about that place. The way she talked about those mugs was like—hearing a nun say there should be a circle in hell for people who order the wrong kind of donuts.”

When they’d both quit laughing Daisy said, “You sound like you’re starting to feel better.” She poked him in the stomach, though so lightly for fear he’d throw up on her that she doubted he could even feel it through his cardigan and shirt. “Gonna puke again, you think?”

Jon breathed out through his nose and looked at the ceiling. Apparently she had poked him hard enough to tickle: he batted her hand away like a fly, then left his own where hers had been. “Probably not. Don’t think so. Not sure how much I have left to.”

“Yeah.” After a pause to put the words in a convincing order, Daisy said, “Surprised you had that much—I’ve barely seen you eat today. How long were you feeling sick?”

Guilty smile. “Sorry, Daisy, I uh. Thought I had it under control.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Oh. Uh… few hours, maybe?”

“Why’ve you been coughing and sniffing all day then. Thought you had a cold at first.”

“Yeah—so did I, til.”

“Huh.”

Jon propped the back of his head on his folded elbows. “Maybe it’s a monster thing,” he said, with the cynical sigh of someone pretending to be okay with this.

“Could be,” Daisy agreed. She could feel his eyes on her, but looked at the opposite wall instead of answering his gaze. Meanwhile she patted his knee. When he’d been quiet long enough she was sure he didn’t mean to say more about the monster thing, Daisy said, “Let’s get you out of those wet shoes.”

--

*Whose OP I can’t find, though I know I’ve seen it before, but. It’s the prompt referenced here:

person has been involuntarily letting out nauseously [sic] coughs intermittently all day, and their friend thinks they just have a cold or something, but surprise! they are about to puke everywhere

ETA 6/16 fixed a few Americanisms, whoops! If I’ve missed any more of those please point them out to me

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia --  ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace. 

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.” 

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

[vnights]

Canned Food

————

Includes a bit of heavy angst, and depictions of children in high-stress situations. Writing some of Mikes more iconic memories (and the source of his food-related trauma whoops) enjoy ??

————

Michael has an incredibly strict diet. It must be from some kind of bowl or container, and it all must be one thing. Specific, yes, but it’s necessary if he wants to hold his supper. It wasn’t always like this, though. Lil’ Mikey used to snack often, and take large mouthfuls of food during family dinners. He used to be a real eater! Now, he can only remember those taco-tuesdays.

...All the children were waiting for their father at the table, listening to the front door open and close, all without a greeting. Tension began to rise in the kitchen as the three watched William enter, stripping his coat off, and looking at the empty plates. There was a scowl, but.. This bad-day negativity was quickly pushed down, being replaced by forced joy, a small grin finding the mans lips.

“I take it you’re hungry?” He asked with a head tilt, his smile rising as all three nodded at the same time.

“We’ve been waiting here for hooouuurrrrs! I thought we were going to starve!” Elizabeth exclaimed dramatically, slouching in her seat and pouting. This drew a chuckle from her father, who shook his head at her.

“Your brother hadn’t grabbed you a thing? I’m sorry, sweetheart.. How irresponsible of him.” His eldest son went wide eyed and held his arms out, mouth shaped in a small ‘o’, becoming personally offended by taking unwarranted blame. While moving to the fridge, William snickered and corrected himself. “I’m joking, loosen up a little bit.”

Frozen vegetables were removed from the freezer and placed on a pan, a pot of water being centered on the heating stove. A simple meal was planned, mac and cheese with veggies. It was easy, and required little effort. ...Doesn’t mean it isn’t like a chore, though. Today has been active from start to finish, and Will was mainly hoping to just.. Sit for more than a second. Luckily, things need time to warm up, giving him time to rest, taking a seat at the table with his children.

“Did everyone behave? No fights today?” His opening question.

“Eliza threw a big hissy-fit ‘cause she couldn’t play outside, then she went out anyway and started screaming when I pulled her back inside!”

“I didn’t scream! Yuh- You should have just let me out!”

“But you didn’t want your shoes, and you got dirt all over the flo-“

Both kids silenced upon looking over, watching their parent rub his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He grumbled lowly and leaned over, deciding to.. Not argue, and just settle it. “Elizabeth, you need to listen when Johnathan is in charge. It’s all I ask of you. Johnny, just.. Just let her play without shoes, it’s not a big deal. Nnnnow... Michael? How was your day?” The middle child finally looked up from the bear in his lap, simply shrugging in response. His tiny scowl spoke much more than he did, however. And.. Seeing as both the other kids seemed hesitant, one could guess something else happened today. “...Mike. Go ahead, dear.”

Glancing to Johnny and Eliza, the boy sighed and opened his mouth very wide, taking in a big breath. “...Johnathan was in my room and wouldn’t leave, so I left and went into his room, and then he came and pulled me out and ripped my shirt! An’- An’ he ripped Chica’s foot, too, and I tried fixing her but- But Elizabeth said she could help, so I gave her Chica and she made it even bigger’er, and when I said I was gonna tell you, they shut me in the bathroom, and wouldn’ let me out if I promised not to tell, but I- I told..” The child lowered his head and raised his shoulders, looking between his brother and sister, who now wore angered expressions.

There was no energy to deal with this. None. “..Why can’t you just get along with one another?.. This is why I don’t leave you home anymore!..” William stormed and stood up, squeaking the chair back loudly, causing both Mike and Eliza to flinch. He turned to take care of the thawing food, putting everything in and on the oven. With that little outburst, the tension has made its reappearance, keeping the kids on their toes. With silence finally filling the air, William had the chance to calm himself, grabbing a book on his way back to the table. “...Please stay hushed, sweets. Daddies head is pounding..” His request was accepted by each of them, each Johnathan, Michael and Elizabeth being silent, shooting glares at one another.

Waiting for the oven to beep was agonizing. The ice they were standing on was thin, as their fathers temper was like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for that one, little, thing. They were lucky to not have set it off. For right now, anyway. Once food was ready, William sighed heavily and stood up, folding his book and setting it aside before going to the stove, asking the kids to line up with their plates. One by one, they were sent back to the table with full plates of food, retaking their seats before digging in. Johnathan and Elizabeth did, anyway. Michael seemed to be.. Distracted, and not eating. He just didn’t feel like it, his stomach being stirred with anxiety and bad feelings and everything.

His reluctance was noticed early on.

“...Michael, why are you not eating?” William started softly, keeping his temper collected.

Mike shrugged, keeping his eyes to his teddy. “I will in a secon’..”

“...At least show me five bites. Can you do that for me?”

“I guess so..” Mike nodded and did as he was asked, scooping up five rather tiny bites. He’s simply lost his appetite, rethinking the day and all. None of his family members seemed impressed with his hesitant swallows, though.

“C’mon Mike, it isn’t torture! Just eat the food!” Johnathan decided to add.

“I am! Lea’me alone!” Michael shouted in retaliation.

“Stop bickering and let him eat! He’s eating! There is no time limit on food!” William blew a fuse and shouted, making every hush-up again.

They had a quiet meal. Only three of the people at the table finished their plates, Michael was still not done. Not nearly. Johnny and Eliza went to their rooms, Will went to shower, and Mike was told to stay until his food was finished. There were no doubts, not a single one, which is why William took his precious time rinsing the work days grease off his body and mind. And, for a moment, it seemed to work. He felt better, and after a nice, long hour and 40+ minutes shower, he was so ready to see his sweet little angels ready for bed. It was when he re-dressed and exited the restroom that his mood was immediately wrecked.

“Michael Afton!” He shouted loudly, causing the boy to flinch harshly and look over, fear filling his features. “Why are you still seated?! Have you taken even one more bite?!”

“I- You said stay here ‘til I was done!..” The boy whimpered, tugging his bear closer as his father approached.

“Look at that plate! You haven’t even touched it!” He pointed down at the food, resting his other hand on the chair. “I gave you so much time just to eat! I slaved to make sure you were fed, and you-! Nnngggg!! MICHAEL! Eat!”

With the, currently, small outburst, Mike teared and quickly turned to grab the fork, his wrists shaking greatly while he scooped up the veggies and mac, shoveling it into his mouth. A noodle found its place down Michaels throat, tickling on the way down, making the child set his utensil down and begin coughing. Due to the pause, William’s anger only grew, making him boil over with a growl. He slammed his fist down onto the table, making Mike yipe frightfully.

“You don’t get to take your time anymore! Eat! Eat your food!” The consistent yelling made Michael begin to cry, emotionally retreating into himself. William tensed, clenching his fist tightly before, once more, slamming it down, hitting the edge of the plate this time, sending Mikes food all over the tables edge, and the floor. This completely busted Wills temper, making him fume. “FINE! Since you’re too incompetent for anything, I’ll do it for you!”

“Daddy-?!” Mike shouted worriedly, scooting back before getting grabbed. William, in a shocking act, force-fed his child, grabbing a handful of mushed, cold food and shoving it into Michaels mouth. The boy desperately tried pushing the others arm away, only to get it roughly shoved against his face. Eventually, Michael began kicking, being able to release himself from his fathers grip, and making the chair wobble and fall over, leaving the child gasping, crying, and crawling away. He then choked wetly, puking on the kitchen floor over the course of two cough-ups. Mike sobbed lightly with a shiver, carefully looking back to his father.

William was staring down at the mess he made with an expression of complete shock, and sorrow. Guilt washed over him like a thick blanket as a soft, barely audible breath left his throat. Listening to Mike whimper and cry drove him mad, causing his clean hand to rest over his own mouth, and making him step closer, kneeling down in a much softer, much less scary manner. “Michael, baby I’m sorry, I didn’t.. Mean t.. Mikey, come here, come here, my love..” He slowly motioned over, scooting closer to the other. Michael shivered as William got closer, scooping him up like a baby. With a nuzzle and a cuddle, William carried the child while pacing around the house, whispering soft, sweet words of comfort in an attempt to make up. The commotion certainly kept the other kids in their own rooms, at least..

...That sick never left him. Even now, all this time later, he still has to settle for good ole’ Spaghetti-O’s.

[schrijverr]

Flying Solo

Reggie can dance ballet, he learned from his mother and does it whenever he’s feeling low. The band catches him and it turns into a bonding moment.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Reggies home life from before they died is mentioned briefly. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex and Luke had been friends since they were very little and had befriended Bobby in Middle School, only meeting Reggie in High School after he had moved to LA from NYC. He had easily fit in to their little group, but they did not know Reggie as well as each other.

Not that Reggie minded, he was a pretty private person. He didn’t like sharing things about himself and had become a pro in talking without ever saying something.

He did not like talking about his home and his parents, so he avoided those topics and made sure to always have an excuse ready about why they couldn't go to his home and he put on an act (partly) of being a dumbass to discourage deeper conversations.

It had even taken the other three a while before they figured out where he was from, only finding out when he had rolled his eyes at the depiction of the Big Apple in a movie.

Reggie liked his new friends though. They let him stay on their couches when the fighting got bad and never pitied him for the bruises.

They were his family.

However, he did not share everything with them, even after they’d gotten close enough to be brothers. Like the fact that his mother had been a professional ballerina, who was still angry she had to give up her studio for his fathers job, nor the fact that he had spend most of his youth there as well and knew how to dance ballet.

He knew they wouldn't judge him for it or think he was girly or weird, he had seen that with Alex. But still, it was his little thing.

The thing he did when he was down, his small comfort that reminded him of better times when glasses remained whole and his mother still smiled.

Ballet was how he had gotten into music, first learning to play pieces on the piano, later violin, then banjo and guitar, which lead to the true love that was his bass. His mother had always been a music person, his dad too. That used to connect them.

So he kept it to himself, only doing small pirouettes and some stretching in his room or old routines on the beach late at night under the stars to the beat of the fighting floating from the house.

But then they died and nothing was the same anymore. His home was a bike shack, his parents were gone and he was a ghost that could only be seen when they sung with a specific girl. The only good thing was that he would keep his flexibility for all of eternity.

Well, that might be a bit dramatic. Julie was super nice, he still had his friend and their music, and Ray was everything he had ever wanted in a dad, even if the man couldn't see him.

It was just that it hurt sometimes.

It hurt that he would never be able to socialize again, that they never had the breakthrough they had worked so hard for, that their music had been stolen by someone they trusted, that the only good father figure he’d ever known only tolerated him because he was invisible, that his friends were finding other people and he was being left behind.

Life, well, death, just fucking sucked and Reggie hated it. Not always, just some days when the loneliness crept up on him and he had no one to turn to.

So he returned to the thing that had kept him going for most of his life, before he had his band, his new family.

Ballet.

First he went to the beach, like he’d used to, but the bike shack was a bitter reminder of what he had lost and the entire area wasn’t the same anymore. So he returned to the Molina house, which used to be the Willson house.

Ray sometimes listened to classical music while he worked and, since he couldn't see Reggie, it was the perfect time.

He started doing his stretches, before he moved on to the basic positions and some other steps. It was nothing fancy, nothing like he’d used to do, but it was calming. Just flying through the space with his eyes closed while memories played on his eyelids.

His mother beckoning him closer with a smile, the older girls at the studio who had adored him when he was younger, his dad at the piano in the living room, while he either sat next to him or twirled with his mother.

The good times.

Soon it became routine to do old ballet routines in the living room while Ray was working and he was sure none of the others would be home or just whenever there was no one at all.

It was pretty handy that he could phase through objects now and didn’t have to deal with pushing everything to the side, although clothes were still an issue. He had a pair of sweats and a tank-top though, but no shoes, so he had to manage on bare feet.

But it was nice, it was comforting, which meant it had to go to shit at some point.

Today had began not that great. Reggie had been awake, like every night, but this time it hadn’t been nice and quiet, just a reminder that he wasn’t alive anymore. He’d gone on a walk, but all the changes were also a reminder and the day had just been doomed from the start.

First he’d wanted to hang with the guys, but Alex had a date (totally not a date, shut up) with Willie and Luke had heard his parents talking about his cousins and aunt coming, so he was haunting them, leaving Reggie on his own.

He had searched for Ray, but the man was away on a shoot and Reggie was truly on his own in the house. Nothing that bad, he’d thought as he decided to dance for a bit.

Quickly poofing over to the garage, he changed into what he had dubbed his dancing clothes, before poofing back and starting up some Tsjaikovski while he did the warming up. He reasoned that if anyone came home, they’d think Ray had left his music on.

He had started with something easy, but he could do that from muscle memory alone, which wasn’t helping him with getting his mind of things. So the routines had gotten increasingly more difficult throughout the day as he forgot completely about the time.

Because he was so focused on jumping at the right beats and stepping in time with the music, he didn’t notice the door opening and the small gasp Julie let out as she watched him. Nor did he notice Luke and Alex poofing back into the room next to Julie.

They had returned to find an empty garage, so they had assumed Reggie would be hanging with Ray, instead they had found Julie staring at something while standing in the doorway.

With their curiosity piqued they had poofed there and looked to find the usually clumsy bassist flying gracefully through the room.

After a fast set of pirouettes Reggie stopped, the dance was over. He stood still for a few seconds with his eyes closed as he caught his breath only to get snapped out of it by the sound of applause coming from in front of him.

He snapped his eyes open and quickly jumped out of the end position as he squeaked: “How long have you been there?”

“A few minutes.” Julie answered, “But Reggie that was amazing! I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

“Yeah, me neither, that’s sick, dude!” Luke also had processed what he had just seen.

“Why didn’t you ever say?” Alex asked.

“Uh…” Reggie gestured to the air helplessly, before he tried: “Never came up?”

Lukes eyes narrowed as he spotted Reggie lying, which Julie caught onto as she said: “Sorry, was I not supposed to see that?”

Reggie rubbed the back of his head as his cheeks started to flush. He said: “I must have forgotten the time, I’m usually gone before anyone sees. Unless you want to count Ray, but he can’t really see me. It’s my own fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Luke pouted, “Don’t you trust us?”

“It’s just something personal. My mother used to have a studio back in New York, we danced together when I was little while my dad played the piano, you know, before they started fighting.” Reggie explained, unable to deny Luke anything when he pouted.

“Oh.” Luke looked sheepish, “Sorry for pushing, but that was insane, bro.”

“Thank you!” Reggie grinned.

“Wait, New York?” Julie asked.

“We met Reggie in High School, he used to live in New York before they had to move for his dads job.” Alex explained.

In the background Luke pulled Reggie into a side hug, as he asked: “How can you be so graceful and trip over your own feet while walking, dude?”

“I do not.” Reggie exclaimed.

“You once tripped over air, Reginald.” Alex told him with an eyebrow raise.

Julie now finally closed the door behind her and excitedly asked: “Don’t care how clumsy he usually is, can you show me how you did that?”

“Did what?”

“The dancing? Please, I’ve always wanted to try, but by the time I had outgrown my ‘I’m-not-like-the-other-girls’ phase I was too old to get good and get lessons.” Julie said, “Can you teach me the basics?”

“I mean I could, but I you have to warm up first and I don’t know how flexible you are.” Reggie replied tentatively. Julie cheered, before she raced up the stairs to get changed into better clothes for this, leaving the three boys behind.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you to share.” Luke said after a few seconds, “I didn’t want to force you to tell us that.”

“It’s alright, man.” Reggie said, “I mostly have good memories connected with dancing, it’s something I do when I feel lonely.”

“Do you- do you feel lonely often?” Luke asked with sad eyes, making Reggie realize what he had just admitted.

Reggie didn’t want to lie to him again or make him feel like a bad friend after all he had done for him, so he just said: “It’s been hard turning into a ghost, you know I love to talk to people.”

That was not completely false, Reggie had always been the social butterfly of Sunset Curve and the life of the party. Usually talking to twenty people at the same time, none he had known three seconds ago and he did miss that it just wasn’t the whole story.

Luke saw through the words and felt guilty about leaving his friend alone when he clearly needed company. Alex seemingly had an answer, though. He carefully asked: “You wouldn't mind me joining either, would you?”

“No, of course not. You need better moves if you’re gonna keep joining Dirty Candy.” Reggie grinned.

At that point Julie came barreling down the stairs, catching the tail end of the conversation. She said: “Luke, you have to join now too. It’ll be band-bonding.”

The other two snorted at the idea of bouncy Luke trying to do strict ballet and Luke paled. It was too late for him, however, Julie was set on it. So a few minutes later they were all wearing dance clothes as they cleared the instruments to make space for Julie in the garage.

They had done jumping jacks to get the blood pumping and had struggled with touching their toes and keeping them pointed when Reggie moved to the splits.

“What the fuck, Reg.” Luke exclaimed, hissing in pain as he failed miserably in doing them himself.

“I’ve been doing this since before I can remember, Luke. Would be a bit strange, if I couldn't do them.” Reggie laughed, it was nice to make some more good memories connected to dancing, now with his new family.

From where she was struggling with the split herself, Julie huffed: “What else have you been hiding from us, Reggie? More surprises in there?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I ever mentioned I also play piano and violin?” Reggie replied.

“WHAT!”

[notanacousticsetcal]

girl crush (lrh) - chapter three

summary - luke is 19 and 5sos is at the top of their game. daisy harlow is a solo artist becoming more popular by the day. daisy and luke “date” for publicity but some real feelings start to spark during their forced time together. the only problem? luke has a girlfriend.  

warnings - none! (for this chapter) basically just lots of nerves.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - I changed the perspective to 3rd person because it felt more fitting. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone and if it does please let me know! Thank you for reading :)

DAISY’S POV

“Rise and shine, sleepy head! Big day today.” 

Daisy groans and shoves the pillow over her head, pushing Virginia away from the bed. “When I gave you a key, I wasn’t thinking you’d be barging in here at the ass crack of dawn trying to ruin my beauty sleep.” 

Virginia laughs and pulls the pillow away from Daisy’s face. “Sweetie, it's not the ass crack of dawn. It's 11am and you’re gonna be late. Get up, we gotta go.” 

Daisy’s eyes shoot wide open. “11AM? Jesus Christ, why didn’t my alarm go off?” She stumbles out of bed and slips on some shoes, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. They were supposed to meet Dianne at 11 to start hair and makeup.

“I knew this would happen. I called to make sure you were on your way and you didn’t answer so I came to save the day.” Virginia gives Daisy a smug look and flips her hair dramatically over her shoulder. 

Daisy reaches out and pulls her into a bone crushing hug, “You’re the best, don’t know where I’d be without you.” Daisy quickly grabs a pair of jeans and almost eats shit trying to hop into them on her way to the door. 

“Lets go!” She calls to Virginia, grabbing her house keys and pulling on some slippers.

“Alright, alright I’m coming skippy-van-hops-a-lot, Jesus.” Virginia follows quickly behind Daisy, giving a quick goodbye pet to Artemis. 

As the friends stumble out of Daisy’s apartment, she opens her phone to a few missed calls from Dianne’s assistant, Genevieve. She quickly clicks Genevieve’s icon and calls her back, pressing her phone between her ear and shoulder as she rummages through her bag for her car keys, bracing herself to be sternly reprimanded.

“Daisy, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here like now!” cries a very stressed Genevieve. She mutters to someone else on the other end “I have her on the phone.”

Daisy tosses the keys to Virginia, mouthing “you drive” and runs her now free hand through her hair anxiously. “I’m so sorry Genevieve, on my way now. I overslept. I’ll be there ASAP.”

She sighs and whispers angrily, “Alright, hurry your ass up, I’m covering for you.”

Daisy lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you, I owe you. See you soon.”

Daisy hangs up and gets in the car, replying to all the other missed messages she had received while she was getting her beauty sleep including some from Mariah about how Daisy’s going to meet the aussie man of her dreams tonight. Daisy groans and curls up in the passenger seat of the car, laying her forehead against the cool glass of the window, semi hoping she drops dead before she has to talk to the stupid handsome lead singer tonight.

Virginia pulls out Daisy’s car, nearly hitting an elderly couple, and the girls quickly head to hair and makeup. 

After a quick 15 minute drive, Virginia and Daisy practically sprint into Dianne’s office. Genevieve races up to the girls as soon as they pass the threshold, her normally tame red locks, frizzy and shooting in every direction, and grabs Virginia and Daisy by the wrists. She tugs them impatiently towards makeup and just short of throws them into their seats. Without another word, she storms away, looking more stressed by the second. 

Virginia and Daisy share a look of mutual concern for the small redhead who’s always so calm and collected before they’re interrupted by Dianne’s employees, who without a single word begin work on their faces.

After two hours of careful work and perfected brush strokes, both Virginia, who is coming as a plus one, and Daisy have a full face of makeup and move on to hair. The girls give each other a once over, taking in the completed glam. 

Virginia has always been the beautiful best friend. She has shorter, light brown hair and piercing blue eyes and the most perfect bone structure, but Daisy couldn’t even be envious because she’s the most supportive, selfless person Daisy had ever met and it doesn’t feel right to wish away any of her beauty -- she deserves every ounce of it. 

Her eyeshadow looks simple with a heavy cat eye and her lips are painted a bold red. It looks stunning on her and will match perfectly with the satin red dress she had picked out for the event. 

“Gia, you look hot,” Daisy’s mouth goes slack at the flawless makeup. 

“Says you! I’ve never seen you wear this much makeup during the whole time we’ve known each other!” Daisy turns to look in the mirror. Her eyeshadow is heavier and smoky which makes her green eyes stand out that much more while her lips are painted a nude, glossy shade. It doesn’t feel like she’s looking at herself in the mirror. She gapes in awe at the makeup artists handiwork. 

“Holy shit, this looks great.”

Virginia and Daisy wait around, getting their hair done, eating lunch (they only had salads, gag), playing games, waiting until it's time to get in their dresses and head to the event. The hustle and bustle of artists doing other girls’ makeup (including Ariana fucking Grande who both Daisy and Virginia were too starstruck to approach) and people in charge running back and forth swirls around them, but they pay no mind.

After a while, it was finally time to get dressed, so Virginia and Daisy agreed to part ways.

Virginia’s dress: 

Daisy’s dress:

Daisy watches as Virginia steps out in her dress looking absolutely stunning, per usual.

Daisy’s dress is simple, but this is her first big event and she doesn’t want to overdo it. Any negative attention would upset her too much.

Daisy has to admit. She does feel pretty hot. 

After exchanging a multitude of compliments, Virginia and Daisy are on their way to the VMAs. Daisy’s hands are a shaking mess and the more she thinks about the idea that in a few minutes she’ll be meeting that stupid dumb blonde boy she’s supposed to be dating, the more she feels like she can’t breathe. 

Virginia notices the nerves and grabs Daisy’s hand, throwing the poor girl a reassuring smile. Daisy returns the favor and gives her a small, probably pretty unconvincing smile back. 

The car halts in front of the entrance and the door is opening. Bright lights blind Daisy as she’s guided out of the vehicle, Virginia close behind. 

Daisy smiles despite the chaos and waves to the photographers outside of the building, but inside she feels disoriented. It's like she’s on autopilot. She allows herself to be directed into the building and is quick to find Virginia again once she's inside.

“Jesus, I can’t see.” Virginia blinks and her eyes move around unfocused. 

“Gia, I’m right here.” Daisy waves her hands in front of Virginia’s face, laughing. 

“Goddamn, it felt like I was staring into the fucking sun.” She blinks and focuses her eyes on Daisy, giving her a look of annoyance at the ordeal.

“I know, I’m definitely not used to that stuff yet.” Daisy looks around anxiously, trying to spot Mariah so she can tell her what the hell she’s supposed to be doing. She’s never done anything like this before.

“Ah, you’re here! You both look stunning, the boys are already here. Virginia, dear, there are 3 other attractive men in that band and they all happen to be single,” Mariah suggests, slyly, throwing Virginia a quick wink.

Virginia blushes a deep red, “I’m not famous, they won’t spare me a second glance.” She brushes off Mariah with a wave of her hand. 

Mariah scoffs, “Oh, please, doll, you look just ravishing, they won’t be able to resist. Besides, sometimes I think they prefer a girl away from the fame, you know? Knock ‘em dead, ladies.” Mariah gives Virginia’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pulls the girls towards their seats in the audience which are labeled with their names. 

VIRGINIA RHODES

DAISY HARLOW

LUKE HEMMINGS

CALUM HOOD

ASHTON IRWIN

MICHAEL CLIFFORD

Daisy internally groans. When Mariah said she would be sitting with Luke, she meant right next to him. 

Daisy sits down, feeling a wave of intense panic set in. Why is she so fucking nervous? He’s just a boy.

LUKES POV

Luke scrolls aimlessly through twitter, liking his favorite tweets from fans and checking up on some of his friends. The boys laugh and mess around beside him while they make their way to the VMAs. 

Luke checks his hair in his phone camera for what must’ve been the millionth time and runs his sweaty palms over his knees anxiously, glancing out the tinted window. 

“Luke, Luke.” Calum pokes Luke’s shoulder repeatedly to get his attention.

“What is it?” Luke turns around to face Calum sitting behind him and sighs in slight irritation. Luke was on edge and didn’t feel like listening to whatever childish joke Calum probably wanted him to hear.

“Listen to the fart sound Michael can make, it sounds so fucking real.” Calum points at Michael and on cue, he makes a stupid fart noise with his mouth, sending Calum and Ashton into a fit of  giggles. Luke sighs and turns back around, unlocking his phone and opening the Twitter app again, done with his bandmates’ antics. 

“Come on, Luke, don’t be like that.” Ashton squeezes Luke’s shoulder from beside him.

Michael pulls himself towards the two boys, resting his head against Asthon’s headrest. “Aww, is little Lukey nervous about meeting his fake girlfriend?”

Luke scoffs, “Shut up, Michael.” 

“I think you struck a nerve, mate.” Calum slaps Michael’s back approvingly earning a chuckle from the boy. 

“I’m not nervous, piss off.” Luke rests his head against the window like a sulking toddler and the boys erupt in a chorus of laughter.

“What would Bella think about all this? Have you told her?” Ashton questions.

Luke sighs again at the mention of his girlfriend -- his real girlfriend -- Bella who was currently back at their shared apartment.

“No, I haven’t fucking told her.” Luke mutters, picking at his fingernails and looking awfully guilty. The boys hated Bella and from the beginning, Bella has always hated the boys, making it very difficult for Luke to keep balance between his relationship and his best mates. “Can we stop talking about this? We’re here.”

The boys climb out of the car, one by one, once the car slows to a stop. They’re led to their assigned seats and Luke feels his heartbeat pick up, so much so he feels lightheaded. 

Nobody has ever had this effect on him before. Especially not someone he’s never talked to. He’s thoroughly confused to say the least. 

There’s just something about her, something mesmerizing -- something unique. Maybe it's the way her eyes twinkled when she sang, like momentarily she was taken somewhere else, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders like a waterfall, or the way she was so passionate. 

The boys turn a corner and immediately, Luke’s eyes fall on her. He wishes he could run, hide, go anywhere but here, but his legs keep carrying him closer and closer to her. 

The boys shuffle into the seats and Luke begins to feel like his knees are going to buckle at any moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way. But how can something that feels so right be bad?

He sits down next to her, shifting uncomfortably and once those emerald green eyes trail up to his blue ones…

Game over. Luke is royally screwed. 

[magpiemorality]

Oh! It’s Saturday! I can send in a prompt! So way back when Altruistic Skittles did the first of the nightmare series, with Remus, you reblogged and said you might want to write something based on the picture. Last I knew, she said that people can write fanfictions from the pictures, as long as they’re properly credited. If that’s still something you’d be interested in, I’d love to see it!

This is very big, somewhat in honour of Remus’ birthday today, a very long and dramatic origin for him.

Check out the amazing art that prompted this fic here :) and thanks to @altruistic-skittles​ for making it and allowing works based off it!! 

Also thanks to @omgsomeonesomewhereonearth for giving this a glance over for me on very short notice :)

Warnings: unreliable narrator, Anxiety is viewed as a bad guy, Remus isn’t particularly friendly, long post.

AO3

***

Roman had been feeling off for a while. He was far from the only one; puberty was tough on every aspect of Thomas, including Logan who had been stretched to his limits trying to keep up with all the demands of an average American high school life. But with Anxiety suddenly in the picture things were even more complicated. Who was he? Where had he come from? And why wouldn’t he leave?

In all honesty Roman hadn’t actually known there were other sides. He’d sort of, maybe naively, assumed that the three of them were the sum of Thomas’ parts, and that they covered everything Thomas would ever need. Sort of like Inside Out, which had in no way at all influenced their existence; they were the pilots who tended to the world inside Thomas’ busy head, just… minus the less good parts. Maybe Thomas didn’t need avatars for those things; maybe he didn’t value them that way, or maybe he just didn’t view them as part of himself?

It was an unfinished theory, but Roman mostly left those sorts of things to Logan, and Logan was too busy for much introspection these days. Which was why Anxiety had gone unchecked for so long.

Sometimes it felt like only Roman was the target of his attacks. Logan faltered, sure, but he was stubborn as all hell when it came to his routines and priorities and Anxiety hadn’t managed to shake them too much just yet. Logan was too established in Thomas’ head to allow wiggle room for anxious thoughts to disrupt his work. Patton also seemed to get away with coexisting with the guy; they fed off each other, or perhaps Anxiety had seen Patton’s power and figured it was easier to work with him than against him, turning good feelings to worry and guilt.

Okay so maybe Patton wasn’t unaffected, but he was so good at putting on a brave face that Anxiety had evidently seen fit to back off out of pure pity, and that left Roman. 

Roman, Roman, Roman, trying his best to stay afloat on the sea of schoolwork and stress, to throw creativity into Thomas’ days so his smile wouldn’t fade. Until stupid, miserable, Despicable He, came along and took it upon himself to thwart Roman’s noble goal.

Their fights were spectacular, unfortunately often feeding into the influence Anxiety had clawed for himself over Thomas and leaving him feeling worse than before Roman had begun the battle. Not that Roman ever started things! He just kept trying to do his work, to do his best, and then Anxiety would show up and bam! Thomas’ hand would falter when writing his cathartic fanfiction, or his mind would blank as he searched for the lines to his latest monologue, or his voice would wobble and break on the notes of a song.

So things were weird, and that wasn’t all.

All it took in the end were a few cutting remarks from Anxiety that didn’t make any sense, and Roman was lost to that edge of paranoia, forever wondering what he meant. A jibe about Thomas not being a perfect person; a sneer laughing at how none of them had even known Anxiety existed before he’d appeared; a scoff that came with the bold assertion that just pretending you weren’t like that didn’t mean you actually weren’t. He seemed to reference someone else sometimes, with a vicious sort of victory that was at least in part tainted with misery, someone who- if Roman was interpreting the clues right- Thomas didn’t even know worked for him, who Anxiety had escaped from. 

And then there was the matter of the tower.

~

Roman stared out of the bedroom window. It was his bedroom, his own copy of Thomas’, and if he focused hard enough he could see the shimmering after-images of the original, with Thomas’ homework on the desk, his clothes on the floor, his posters not quite matching up to Roman’s. He wasn’t in his room like Roman was, downstairs at dinner with the family, and not thinking too hard with his creativity. It left Roman free to do what he so often did these days; stare out of the window. 

Spread out below him was the familiar, comforting sight of the backyard, with its play area and the patio and the grass, the treehouse in the far right corner looking shabbier than ever from its lack of use. Thomas’ dad had been talking of taking it down soon now the kids were too old to use it, but both Patton and Roman- and in fact Anxiety in a rare display of unity- had dug their heels in as Thomas instinctively balked at the prospect of losing just another tie to his childhood. Patton had discovered nostalgia recently and Anxiety had discovered how much Roman feared the term ‘growing up’ and the treehouse was just a big old symbol for all of them to cling to. A beacon of bad things; a final point of no return. 

Roman hadn’t been inside in years, in all honesty, but curiously Thomas had, and more than once. Whatever occurred in there Roman wasn’t sure, but he felt a sense of… something faintly off whenever he looked at the treehouse, that hadn’t entirely started after he’d stopped going inside. This time was no different, and he wondered what the slight churn in Thomas’ gut meant, now that Roman had inadvertently bent his thoughts in the direction of the bottom right corner of the garden. Why picking at the faint memories of the interior of that shadowy wooden structure made their creator push his food around the plate and focus extra hard on talking about his classes, shutting Roman out soundly. 

The treehouse was still there, still dark and foreboding and strange. Roman’s eyes started to water slightly, warping the image, until it flickered ever so quickly.

 He gasped, shoving his whole body forwards, pressing his nose to the glass as it fogged around him with his quick breaths, trying to see it again. 

It remained stubbornly as it always had been, leaving Roman to wonder if he’d imagined the flash of dark, crumbling tower that had blinked into and out of existence. 

But he hadn’t, because as he lay in bed that night, doodling ideas into his notebook while Thomas tried to fall asleep, the shadows outside his window lengthened and the light that should have fallen on his curtains was slowly, steadily blocked out. The darkness felt cool, and thrilling in the way watching a horror movie when you weren’t supposed to felt thrilling, with that edge of risk to it that got your heartbeat going and made your palms clammy. Roman could feel the moment Anxiety noticed it as well, because Thomas’ brain whirred back awake in an instant, the tossing and turning that disrupted him more and more often these teenage nights starting up yet again. Logan began gamely battling to get Thomas to continue on to sleep, Logic coming up against Anxiety for once, but Roman… 

Roman got out of bed, creeping out of his room and down the hall, sneaking carefully down the stairs one by one so Logan wouldn’t notice and stop fighting with Anxiety. The tiled floor was cool under his bare feet as he crossed it to the back door, sliding it open with a soft whoosh of the well-used mechanism. 

The tower awaited him, taller than the treehouse had ever been and far more foreboding. It was made of dark, black brick, slimy and badly worn, surrounded by thorns and with no discernible entrance. A real Rapunzel tower, straight from the Grimm brothers themselves. 

A fairy-tale come to life. And Thomas hadn’t imagined Roman in the image of a dashing Disney prince for nothing; so he started forwards, heedless of his lack of shoes or weapons or anything. He had his curiosity and that was a thousand times more powerful in that moment than anything else. He wanted to know, and whatever thing (maybe a monster? Roman had only vague theories but he was leaning towards trapped monster) was imprisoned within; it felt close to escape. 

Were he Logan in that moment, Roman would theorise that the tower held some kind of dark aspect of Thomas that he’d hidden from himself, and that in the darkness before sleep it was hardest to maintain the lie, confronted with the harsh truth of oneself. But Roman wasn’t Logan, and he didn’t think too deeply beyond thing bad- must know more. 

He got through the thorns with relative ease, considering how large and deadly they looked from across the garden. All it took was a stick from the pile they kept for a bug hotel, a brief flash of inspiration turning it to a shining sharp sword that sliced neatly through each thick tendril until they started to wither away from him as he approached and revealed a door with no lock nor handle, carved into the base of the tower. 

Curiosity won again as Roman kicked it in, crumbling the ancient wood. He gasped, coughing as a thick gust of stale air wheezed out. It left Roman’s stomach twisting with nausea, but the need to be the prince and climb the tower was too strong to be deterred. Inside the house Anxiety upped the ante and Logan turned too late towards his own window, missing seeing Creativity take a step forwards and disappear into the treehouse. 

~

It was dark inside, that was the first thing Roman noticed. It was obviously going to be dark, a tower with no windows, but the darkness felt more than that. It felt like it hid an endless number of bad things waiting to come forwards, to pounce at any moment. The walls were horribly slimy when Roman used them to find the winding staircase, and the smell… Better not to mention it at all. 

Suddenly, the sound of whispered movement from above. 

“Hello?” Roman called softly, hoping he’d imagined it. Nothing replied, but the darkness felt closer, and he hurried upwards with the sword ready. “Anyone there?”

A pair of yellow eyes watched, waiting, from below, but Roman never looked down, intent on reaching his goal. He didn’t see the way the door was repairing itself, or how the thorns had regrown. His only thoughts were for the top of the tower and what lay in wait. 

There was the tiniest crack of light when he got up at long last, feet sore and eyes dry from straining to see something. It was a sliver from under a door, faint silver light, the only hint there was a door there at all until he felt it under his fingertips. 

It didn’t budge when he touched it, and once again there was no sign of a handle. Roman kicked it with a frustrated sigh, only to freeze totally still when the whisper of movement came again, -only this time, closer and clearer- it sounded a little like rusted metal, sliding against itself. 

The eyes down below, having followed the prince’s progress, narrowed in thought, but before they could make a decision Logic gained the upper hand over Anxiety back in the house and for a brief, shining moment, the tower was lit up bright and the door clicked open. 

Roman threw himself in before it could close again, and just in time too, because the light faded not a moment later, the door sealing itself up again. How he was going to get out, he wasn’t sure. But that was a problem for later- the fairy-tale dictated he had reached his goal. This was the end of the story. 

So what was his prize? 

There was a shape, in the room. A figure, about his own size, sat facing the window. Roman blinked hard to clear the spots that danced over his vision in the wake of the sudden flash of light, and the figure came slowly into view in the murk. A boy, with poufy sleeves and an outfit to match the setting, staring out of the window back towards the house. Back towards Thomas, back towards where Roman had been staring out from. The boy yawned, stretching his arms up and it was then that Roman noticed the chains. 

He was chained to the floor. Was this the monster at the top of the tower? Or the… dude in distress?!

This wasn't actually a fairy-tale, so the former seemed exponentially more likely, and Roman gulped as fear took root. 

“I know, I know, come to shut me up again. I just wanted a bit of fun, D-“ 

The boy stopped, frozen as still as Roman’s heart as it skipped a beat. Two identical faces, two sets of identical eyes, stared in horror and dawning, dim comprehension at each other. 

“You’re Roman!” The other boy shrieked, loud enough to make Roman flinch back. It stopped the grin on the chained boy’s face in its tracks, and he tilted his head, eyes turning cold and calculating in a heartbeat. 

“Who are you?” Roman squeaked, barely able to get his voice to work. “Why are you locked up? Are you evil? Does Thomas have…” his voice fell to a whisper. “A Dark side?”

The boy cackled, a joyful sound that shouldn’t have been as unsettling as it was. The clanking of the chains as he doubled over only heightened the feeling that something was wrong, and Roman screamed when the boy darted forwards suddenly. 

He was yanked back by the chains, snapping his jaw in Roman’s face with a wild snarl and snorting with amusement when Roman’s back hit the far wall, sword out and shaking in his unsteady grip. “A dark side? Everyone’s got a dark side, Prince Perfect. If you think you don’t, you’re just not looking hard enough." 

"Thomas is good!" 

"Thomas is real,” the boy purred, moving back to sit at the window again, gazing back towards the house. The distant sensation of Logic and Anxiety fighting for the upper hand grew when Patton joined, his constant underlying guilt swelling support for their anxious antagonist. The chained boy laughed, fingers tapping against his face too quick for Roman to even see, lips moving soundlessly on words Roman definitely didn’t want to hear. “Have you come to defeat me, Roman? No, you didn’t even know I was here, did you. Locked in my tower, kept from my one true calling. It’s for my own good, you know? D- the dragon that guards me says so. It’s for everyone’s good that I don’t get out, most of all Thomas’.” The name felt reverent the way the boy said it, softly and sweetly, like calling the name of a deity. It made Roman wince. “It’s only right that a villain should be kept away.”

“Who are you?" 

"I’m you, but stronger,” the boy retorted, breaking into cackles. “I’m you but scarier. That’s what they thought, anyway. I think I’m just something else. I think I’m bad news. I think Thomas is bad news…" 

Roman wouldn’t stand for that. He held his sword out more confidently, raising his chin. "Thomas is a great guy! He’s the best! He’s full of good things and light and-”

“And darkness and wondering, wandering thoughts and impulses, just like anyone. Even you. You would kill me if you thought you should, if you thought it was your Disney story, wouldn’t you. Without hesitation, but Roman! Killing is wrong!”

“Not in Disney!" 

”Even in Disney!“

A howl of rage echoed around the tower, along with the sound of metal on stone as Roman brought the sword down on the window ledge beside the boy’s hands. The chained boy didn’t flinch, just beaming victoriously at Roman, cackling his disquieting cackle. 

"Who are you really?! Tell me!" 

The boy opened his mouth to speak, a hunger in his eyes that Roman didn’t understand, but the tower shuddered. His eyes darted to the door and Roman’s couldn’t help but follow. "Oh dear, Roman. You shouldn’t have come here. Curiosity killed the cat, you know, and the witch is on his way to toss you out of the tower…”

“I thought you said it was a dragon?”

“Dragon, witch, there was a time when there wasn’t any difference to you. Maybe you’re learning some nuance now though. That’s gotta be rough, buddy, you’re practically made from simplicity.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the insult, and the tower shuddered again. The boy picked up his cackling again, louder and louder as the shuddering turned to heavy footsteps approaching up the stairs. And Roman wondered, if this was the monster that guarded this boy, what did that make the boy?

“He’s here.”

The door burst open, a hazy shape flying in and grabbing Roman, what felt like giant claws snatching him up and carrying him out of the tower, dropping him hard onto the lawn before it whirled back around and vanished back into the… treehouse? 

The tower was gone. The treehouse looked like it always had, dark and grim, but it was definitely just the same treehouse as ever. 

He fell back, sprawling on the grass as his limbs turned to jelly from the residual adrenaline, while inside Anxiety let up at last and Logan won the battle for the night. Thomas slipped uneasily into dreams.

The tug of unconsciousness grew heavy, dragging on Roman’s very being now his creator had finally fallen asleep. He just about managed to drag himself inside to bed before succumbing at last, glad to leave the whole strange night behind him. 

-

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