#HOW DID I NOT REALIZE. I LITERALLY SAID ooh i almost have a flush! THEN GOT THE CARD I NEEDED AND IMMEDIATELY DISCARDED IT

[prophecyofgray]

editing my balatro gameplay footage and realizing that i could've played a flush in the game i lost and i probably would've won. oh my god i need to kill myself

[xxlady-lunaxx]

your fav kamado siblings and giyuu anon here! ill sign off w a purple heart from now on haha 💜

i have another request! setting and context up to you, just giving you some tags!

hurt/comfort (giyuu gets the comfort), fluff, nightmares, literal sleeping together! :) im sorry cant stop thinking about those three 💜

yaay ! ooh okay, purple anon then <3 (i took so long to write this that i js realized it prolly seemed random to any1 else that youre 💜 anon 😭 IM SORRY) it's nice to see you again :D and of course :O i'll do my best cw! nightmares?? idk just a little panicky at the beginning featuring giyuu and his forcefully adopted siblings, and no particular timeline lmfao... also this is short argh

It must be strange for a Hashira to get nightmares. But then again, they had all faced so many horrors, it would be even more pecuilar if they didn't experience them. Even so, Giyuu felt childish. Waking up in a pool of cold sweat, mind racing with the flashes of blood and deattached limbs strewn about. His chest heaved as he desperately drew in air, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a hand to his fast-beating heart, pushing gently, trying to control it. He hated it. He hated the nights when he was given a break from his duties to rest. It seemed to always end up like this.

As he slowly lowered himself back down, his dream came back to him in full force and replayed in his mind, no matter how much he tried to force it away. Panic rose in him again and he shot back up, almost toppling out of the bed, his arm hitting the wooden floor loudly. He flinched, though he was glad for it as it distracted his thoughts from his dream and he focused on making sure he hadn't broken his wrist (which, of course, he hadn't, but it was a better thought than the ones that threatened to take over).

There was a pattering of footsteps and he tensed, hand straying to the katana that sat by his futon. Then Tanjiro and Nezuko entered the room and he relaxed slightly. He had nearly forgotten.

They were staying over at his house tonight, having been too far from any Wisteria Houses after Tanjiro's mission. They must've heard Giyuu's distress because now they were all bunched up under his blanket, snuggling closer to him. Giyuu decided to let them stay, finding the warmth of their presence comforting.

"Are you okay, Giyuu-san?" Tanjiro asked quietly, after everyone had adjusted.

Giyuu nodded slowly. "Ye-ep," he mumbled, internally slapping himself at the crack in his voice.

"We heard you fall, or something, and got worried. Also it was dreadfully cold alone," Tanjiro hummed, scooting closer and wrapping his arms tightly around Giyuu without a care in the world.

Momentarily, Giyuu tensed, unsure how to take this sudden bit of affection. Yes, they had abruptly slipped into his bed, but he wasn't used to this, it had been so long. He didn't even realize he was crying until Nezuko's sillhouette appeared above him as she gazed at him, eyes tense with worry and scrubbing at his cheeks with the sleeve of her kimono. Giyuu flushed, embarrassed. In his shock, he must've let down his guard. God, he had to pull himself together!

Tanjiro, noticing now, tightened the embrace, burying his head in Giyuu's chest. "Don't cry, Giyuu-san. Do you want me to sing you a song? I used to sing lullabies for my younger siblings," he said, his words muffled by fabric.

Giyuu gave a start. A lullaby? "No... No, I'm okay," he said, voice thick. He cleared his throat several times, tugging Nezuko back down and wrapping and arm around her almost protectively. "It's okay."

Tanjiro's head popped back up to look at him. "You sure? It's not bothering us, if that's what-"

"No," Giyuu repeated, nudging him back down. "I'm fine. I'm sorry."

Tanjiro frowned slightly but settled back under the covers. "Okay. Did something happen earlier? Or did you just hit something?" he asked, after a moment of silence.

"I had a... dream. And I sat up too quickly and... yeah," Giyuu said, trailing off. He didn't really want Tanjiro to know him in his weak moments. This was embarrassing enough.

"Was it a nightmare?" Tanjiro asked.

Giyuu hesitated before answering. Tanjiro didn't sound mocking, at least. Well, yeah, he was Tanjiro... but still. "You can call it that, I suppose," he mumbled, tucking his chin down to his chest.

Nezuko, who had fallen asleep at some point, nuzzled closer, her form shrinking slightly and fitting into Giyuu's arm like a little bundle. A smile softened Giyuu's lips, though nobody could see it, and he held her close, wishing he had met the Kamados in any other circumstance.

"It's okay to have nightmares," Tanjiro said quietly, as if sensing Giyuu's reluctance. "I have them too, sometimes. Everyone has them and being a Demon Slayer basically guarantees nightmares—it's like it comes as part of the job. So don't feel bad!"

Giyuu mulled on this. It was probably true. Nevertheless, he still felt like shit about it. If he was a so-called Hashira, shouldn't he be able to fend off something as stupid as nightmares?

"Okay," he said anyway, wanting to please Tanjiro. he paused, a thought occurring to him. "How often do you have them?"

Tanjiro shifted, not answering for a minute. "It's not really... consistent? They just come and go," he said quietly, reaching over Giyuu to cup Nezuko's hand in his own.

"Oh." Giyuu glanced down. Tanjiro's eyes were closed but he was still awake, slowly tilting to the edge of sleep. "If you... want to talk about them? You can come to me. If you want."

Tanjiro's eyes opened by a breath and he smiled at Giyuu's vague direction. "Thank you, Giyuu-san. You can talk to me too. About anything," he murmured, closing his eyes again.

Giyuu lifted his hand, running it through Tanjiro's short hair. "Okay," he said again, closing his own eyes and resting back against the pillow.

Their quiet breaths became the only sound in the tranquility of the room, slowly pacing into sleep. This would become almost a habit, talking quietly to one another when Tanjiro visited until the conversation lulled into a gentle slumber—the warmth of other presence comforting them until they could finally relax.

I'm so bad at endings, it's not even funny anymore

[nighthaikyuu]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request akaashi, iwa, and/or atsumu kissing their best friend, please and thank you💕 I really liked the oikawa, kuroo and bokuto one!

— synopsis:  haikyuu boys x y/n; kissing their best-friend 

— characters included: akaashi, iwaizumi, & atsumu 

— genre: soft boi hours! fluff! lil angst! 

— author’s note: while the previous one was based off the tiktok, this one will be just general made-up plots to keep things different! (hope that’s okay!) 

akaashi

when you found out akaashi liked someone, you experienced your first heartbreak. 

you knew falling in love with your best-friend was all on you, but you couldn’t help but just hope that maybe one day he would return your feelings. 

but yet here you were, hopes and heart shattered. 

you almost wanted to breakdown the moment he told you, but you held it out as much as possible, your tears falling only once you were away from him. 

“y/n, I wanna tell you something...” he started slowly as he held the volleyball in his hand tightly. 

chuckling softly, you removed his hands from the ball, taking it from him, “you’re going to bust this if you hold it any tighter.” 

blinking, he stared at his empty hands before laughing lightly. taking a deep breath, he turned to look at you, a soft smile on his face. 

“I like someone.” 

this time it was you whose grip tightened on the volleyball. 

unsure if you heard him right, you stammered, “y-you what?” 

scratching the back of his head, he repeated shyly, “I said I like someone.”

“oh.” you responded, voice lower than a whisper. 

you quickly realized just how dejected you sounded, and if anything, that was the exact opposite of how you should’ve sounded. 

throwing on a bright smile on your face, you giggled, “ooh keiji has a crush~” you teased lightly. 

flushing, he laughed, “yea, I guess you could call it that.” 

“who is it?” you asked almost immediately, the curiosity getting the better of you. 

at that, akaashi stiffened. chuckling nervously, he averted his gaze, “um, it’s someone you know.” 

since that day, akaashi had never told you who his special someone was. you didn’t know why he was hiding it from you, after all it was better to peel the bandaid off completely rather than bit by bit like he was doing to you these last few weeks. 

it started with him telling you how amazing she was. how she was the funniest person he knew, how strong-minded she was and how beautiful she always was to him. 

then it went on to how she made him feel. how she always made his day, how he felt butterflies whenever she would touch him and how he just wants to hold her hand in his. 

and just like that, week by week, akaashi would talk about nothing but her. 

to make things worse, it appeared that most of the volleyball team knew. every day at volleyball practice you would hear their teasing remarks, bokuto’s being the loudest. and in response, his cheeks would flush in embarrassment, the sight making you only hurt more. 

should you quit? you wondered to yourself. it was hard enough on you to hear akaashi telling you his feelings, but it was a whole other thing having several people support him, reminding you every single second of every day that your best friend had fallen for someone else. 

you really loved being fukurodani’s volleyball manager. after all, it was one of the biggest excuses for you to spend more time with akaashi. but even aside from that, you made a lot of great friendships and memories with the team. 

but you really didn’t know if you could go like this anymore. 

sighing, you pulled your bag closer to you as you walked home with akaashi. 

“what are you thinking about?” 

shaking your head, you mumbled, “nothing important really.”

brows furrowing together, he asked, “mm you sure? you looked super serious for a second.” 

“dunno, just thinking about quitting being manager.” you muttered, before realizing what you had just confessed. shit. you didn't know how you were going to get out of this one. 

stopping in his tracks, akaashi’s eyes widened in surprise, “w-wait, you’re thinking of doing what?” 

muttering a soft damn it under your breath, you quickly threw on a nonchalant facade. giving him a shrug, you said casually, “it’s not that big of a deal keiji, there’s still the others.” 

turning back around, you started to walk again while akaashi stood there, fumbling for words. catching back up to you, he pressed, “but why? I thought you loved being manager?” 

biting the inside of your cheek, you knew he was right but you had to come up with some excuse, something to throw him off at least for now, “I just, school’s getting pretty busy—” 

“is that really it?” he interrupted, his voice slightly turning accusatory. 

your eyes narrowed at him, “what does that mean?” 

out of the both of you, akaashi was always the calm one. but today it was almost like you were seeing another version of him. where his eyes shook slightly, filled with an emotion that you couldn’t identify, his hands bundled into tight fists at his sides. 

“i just—” akaashi started, struggling to find the right words to say, “i feel like you’re not telling me something y/n. you’ve been off the last couple of weeks and I don’t know why—” 

you let out a bitter chuckle. 

“you’re kidding right?” 

if your reaction wasn’t enough to shut akaashi up, the words that followed definitely was. he watched as you shut your eyes tightly, your grip on your bag tightening, voice trembling, “I just, I can't do this anymore keiji.” 

akaashi’s eyes softened; moving closer towards you, he started to reach for your hand when you flinched away, the motion causing akaashi to blink in surprise. 

“d-don’t.” you whispered, blinking back the tears. “you won’t understand keiji. you won’t get what I feel and there’s no point in me telling you so please, just don’t ask me why.” 

“y/n, you can’t shut me out without even giving me a chance.” he reasoned softly to which you shook your head. 

“no, you don’t get it. e-everything will change and I just, I can’t handle that—” 

“I promise, nothing will change.” akaashi started, “you’ll always be my best friend—” 

“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore!” you finally exploded, the word starting to make you feel sick. your voice echoed through the empty street, each word coming back to haunt you when you realized what you had finally done. 

but there was no going back. 

“I want to be more than that...” you trailed off in a weak whisper. sniffling, you realized you had been crying without even knowing. brushing your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater, you added, “b-but you like someone else and that’s not your fault, it’s all mine. so just, give me some time keiji. i-i’m sorry.” you finally choked out before turning around on your heel and walking away quickly, the tears only falling faster at this point. 

shit shit shit shit

just then you felt something tug at your wrist, spinning you around as a slight yelp escaped your mouth. finding yourself being pulled towards Akaashi your faces just millimeters apart, you gasped, “keiji—!?” 

without uttering another word, akaashi closed the distance between the two of you as he grabbed your waist, pulling your frame flush against him as his lips enveloped yours in a soft kiss. his other hand cupped the back of your neck, his long fingers threading themselves into your hair as he pressed his lips tightly against yours. 

you felt like you were dreaming. 

before you could comprehend what was happening, akaashi had pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours as you watched his chest raise up and down with every breath. 

“keiji...” you whispered softly. 

“it was you.” he confessed quietly, “it was you, this whole time.” 

blinking furiously, you stared at your best friend as you slowly registered his words, “w-what, what do you mean?” 

lips quirking up into an embarrassed smile, he grinned, “the girl i said i liked? it was you y/n...that’s why i didn’t tell you who it was.” 

"oh.” you said as your cheeks flamed up in embarrassment, a shy smile appearing on your face, “it was me?” 

cupping your face in both his hands, he pressed another kiss to your lips before saying, “yes, it was you. it always has been.” 

as he gazed at you in complete adoration, you laughed softly to yourself, shaking your head in wonder. you were so preoccupied with the idea that the person akaashi liked wasn’t you, you didn’t even pay attention to all the signs and signals he had been giving trying to tell you that it was you. 

oh, how the world worked. 

iwaizumi

“iwaaaaa.”

“no.”

“hajiiiii.”

“no.”

“hajime! come on!” 

turning around to look at you, he rolled his eyes at you before saying the same word he had been for the last several minutes, “no.” 

crossing your arms across your chest with a slight huff, you retorted, “but why not?! it’s really that not that big of a deal, you’re just my best friend.” 

snorting, he turned his attention back to his laptop, “what kind of best-friends do you see kissing each other y/n?” 

“you make it sound crude, it’s not like I’m asking you to be my fuck buddy.” you grumbled, “I just said to teach me how to kiss, just once. It’s literally driving me crazy that I haven’t kissed anyone yet and then there’s the absolute fear of kissing someone and then realizing I suck and being utterly embarrassed for the rest of my life.” 

“then just find someone who hasn’t had their first kiss either. bam, both of you suck.” 

your narrowed your eyes at him, “do you have a list of men who haven’t had their first kiss? I can barely find one at this stupid university who has yet to sleep with someone, find someone who hasn’t kissed yet?! impossible.” 

iwaizumi chuckled softly under his breath as he heard you continue to grumble about how you were going to die alone since you would be too afraid to get intimate with anyone since you “sucked” at it. 

did he want to kiss you? always. 

but did he expect this to be the way? definitely not. 

he knew exactly how this would go, there was no way of it happening any other way. iwaizumi was always better at showing how he felt through actions than words, and after being best friends with you for so long, he knew you’d be able to tell the instant his lips met yours, just how fucking in love he was with you. 

“hajimeeeee.” you started to whine again, interrupting his thoughts. 

sighing, he turned around on his chair so that he was completely facing you. 

his first mistake. 

there you sat cross legged, plush lips pulled together in a small pout as you  stared at him with your soft wide eyes. 

“please haji...” you urge softer this time, a hint of desperation laced within your voice.

iwaizumi’s grip on his jeans tightened. the way you were looking at him was enough to set him off as his heart fluttered at the sound of his name from your lips. 

“you do realize you’re still going to be kissing me right?” he pointed out, “you're okay with that? ” 

nodding quickly, a smile quickly appeared onto your face. was he being convinced? you waved your hand about nonchalantly, “totally okay, you’re my best-friend, I trust you.” 

best friend, iwaizumi winced. the word stung a little more than usual today. 

after a while, iwaizumi finally said with a sigh, “look y/n, I don’t know...” 

your smile quickly dropped. 

“alright, it’s fine.” you said casually, although Iwaizumi could clearly hear the disappointment in your voice. getting up from his bed, you grabbed your bag from beside you and slung it over your shoulder. 

“hey, do you where tooru is?” you asked as you made your way towards his door. 

at the sound of his best friend’s name, iwaizumi’s ears perked up. brows furrowed together, he looked at you in slight curiosity as a bad feeling erupted in his stomach, “practice, why?” 

shrugging, you said, “i'll just go ask him instead, i’m sure he’ll do it.” 

oh, hell no.

before he could even think through his actions, iwaizumi pushed himself off of his chair and found himself reaching past you and closing the door with a thud! his arms caged you as you turned around and stared at him in complete shock, eyes wide and lips parted. 

chest rising up and down, he stared down at you, eyes swimming with an emotion you had never seen before. your own heart started hammering in your chest at the sudden change in proximity as you could feel iwaizumi’s breath fan your flushed cheeks. 

“h-hajime?” you stuttered out, blinking furiously as the boy simply stared at you. iwaizumi felt his brain completely short-circuit. this wasn’t like him at all. he was always the cool-headed one, whether it was keeping oikawa in check or being the supportive one for his friends. but with you, you had always managed to bring out parts of him he never knew existed. 

standing there, his gaze dropped down to your lips; it was as if being this close to you activated a magnetic field that he was unable to escape. leaning in towards you, his forehead rested against yours before he mumbled lowly, “a kiss is what you wanted right? then here.” 

slipping a hand beneath your jaw, his fingers tilted your face upward before closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. 

what started as a butterfly touch, slightly nervous and afraid, quickly changed as iwaizumi pressed closer, deepening the kiss. feeling your back hit the door, your eyes fluttered to a close as you found yourself melting into his embrace, sighing against his lips as you kissed him back. 

iwaizumi’s grip on you tightened. he knew he should stop now before things got out of hand. before you caught on. before you realized how much this kiss meant to him. 

teeth tugging at your bottom lip, iwaizumi pulled away reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours. eyes fluttering open, he waited for your eyes to open and when they did, he felt his entire world stop. 

upon meeting his gaze, your eyes softened. you didn’t know what you expected when you asked iwaizumi to kiss you. while you were serious about wanting to experience kissing, you couldn’t help but admit that you always wanted your first to be iwaizumi. 

“w-was i okay?” you murmured softly. 

nodding, he chuckled softly, “yea, you were perfect.” 

at his words, your grip on his shirt tightened. a sudden surge of courage coursed through your body when you leaned closer towards him and added, “i think i need more practice.” before crashing your lips onto his. 

atsumu

“wow, they should make a rule to not let short people work at libraries. you’d need a stool everywhere you went.” atsumu snorted as he watched you try putting a book away on the highest shelf.

it was a friday afternoon and you and atsumu were both at your local library, volunteering after school.

granted you have to drag him there every week but hey, community service was important to you. 

turning around to shoot him a glare, you retorted, crossing your arms, “for your information, I am perfectly capable of doing this.

chuckling softly, atsumu raised a brow, lips twitching, “Oh? Really now??

letting out a huff, you turned back around, standing on your toes as you tried to reach the top, even holding on to the shelf as you balanced yourself. watching you from behind, atsumu simply shook his head and chuckled, finding your stubbornness absolutely freaking adorable. (even though he'd never tell you that)

moving behind you, his hand shot up past yours as he whispered, “just let me do it.” his breath fanning the back of your neck. as he took the book from your hand, his fingers grazed yours ever-so-slightly, enough to send your heart into a frenzy.

get it together y/n! you told yourself.

somewhere along the line, the boundary of friendship between you and atsumu started to blur. nearly everyone around you could see the way both of you slowly fell for each other.

but of course neither of you could, choosing to remain silent in fear of ruining your childhood friendship.

however you weren’t about to simply give up as you turned around to retort back, but instead, it was a decision you were quick to regret. your heart suddenly skipped a beat when it noticed the distance between the two of you was almost nonexistent. and if that wasn’t enough, the way atsumu was smirking at from above as you were completely backed up against the bookshelf, had you holding your breath.

waving the book in the air, a good couple feet above you, atsumu teased, “here, all you have to do is reach for it y/n”

for a split second, you forgot the position in which you were in, a sudden drive of competitiveness within you focusing on only getting the book atsumu dangled above you. 

pouting, you complained, “atsumu—! just give it to me!” as atsumu laughed at the concentrated look on your face as you endlessly tried grabbing at the air above you.

reaching upwards one last  time, pushing yourself up onto the very tip of your toes, you quickly realized you made a mistake when a mini yelp escaped your lips, your hands clutching the thing nearest to you.

which ended up being?

you guessed it.

atsumu. 

wide-eyed, your hands tightened around atsumu’s shirt as you quickly regained your balance. looking up nervously, you saw atsumu’s smirk slowly disappear as it turned into a nervous smile, his eyes gazing down at you with a look that was indescribable. blinking, you found yourself staring at atsumu’s lips, his soft red lips that just seemed oh-so-inviting, yet the thought of them on you had you flushing scarlet red.

“y/n?” atsumu’s voice rasped softly through the thick air, your grip on him tightening as the way his name rolled of his lips had your knees going weak.

but before you could respond, all you could feel was the softness of his nose brushing against yours, his hands that slowly cradled your waist as he pulled you closer into his grasp, and finally his lips following right after. his lips soft as clouds enveloped yours gently, nervously, tenderly, as his mouth caressed yours while you stood there stunned, unable to move as much as an inch.

sensing the hesitation in you, atsumu quickly pulled away, a look of panic flashing across his face. his cheeks went flush under the dim library light, as he looked at you, completely flustered, “fuck—I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me—”

“I didn’t mind.” you suddenly squeaked, your eyes widening as the words slipped past your lips, making you look away in embarrassment, internally cringing.

you did not just say that y/n!!!

atsumu’s face mirrored yours, a look of surprise on them before the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, the very smile he would always give only you, the very smile that would always have your heart skipping a beat just at the sight of it.

tilting his head to the side, he raised his brow as he teased, “hmm, you didn’t mind?”

this time, it was your turn to be flustered as you hit his chest lightly, avoiding his teasing eyes as he beamed down at you. chuckling, his forehead fell upon yours, his lips yet again just centimeters away.

“then you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?” he whispered lowly, his eyes falling back down to your lips.

“i wouldn’t,” you said softly, finding yourself inching closer to him, slowly closing the gap. 

general taglist: @cinnamonrusts @postsfromthe6 @lady-snavely @02hhsailor@killuaking @rae0fsunshine1317 @sugawaaras @voids-universe @yams046@visaintes @simpforsaeko @honeybacon @kuroosbabie @verblueht @captain-janeway @misssugarless

character-specific taglist: @bluelightningxiii @ushiwakasvball @findityourselffsworld @konohasoftgf

[raindownforme]

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

.

.

.

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[angst-fairygodmother]

This is lowkey kinda dumb, so please ignore this if you think so, but I was wondering if you would maybe write something about Diego being clingy as hell? Because I know that touch starved himbo would literally crave all your attention and affection(I’m the same way lmao)💚💚

A/N: Babycakes, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Requests are not dumb. Please do not feel like you need to disparage or downplay your idea when you send it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 😊 Word Count: 850 Content Warning: None

A long, warm beam of morning sunlight fell across your face, slowly stirring you. As you rubbed sleep from your eyes, you became aware of a weight on top of you. Shifting around awkwardly, you found yourself staring down into the face of the love of your life, Diego Hargreeves, sprawled across you, dead asleep, mouth open and drooling slightly on your bare chest. You couldn’t help your smile as you raised one sleep-weighted hand to run fingers softly through his hair.

He hummed contentedly, snuggling closer.

“Diego, baby,” you murmured. “I know you’re awake.”

He groaned, burying his face further into your skin, making you giggle as his stubble tickled you.

“I need you to move babe,” you whined, wakefulness bringing with it a desperate need to pee.

“Hm…no.”

You laughed, shoving at him as he clung tighter to you.

“You’re cute D, but not cute enough to make me willing to wet the bed. Move.”

He whined pathetically, relenting only when you planted your hands on his shoulders and pushed again.

“I promise, I’ll be back in a minute, and then we can snuggle as long as you want,” you said, pulling on an oversized shirt and padding out of the room.

Of course, that isn’t what happened, because when you emerged from the bathroom it was to find him standing in your kitchen, a pair of grey sweat pants hanging low on his hips, scrambling eggs.

“What happened to cuddling?” you asked with a slight pout as you moved past him to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot.

He shrugged, his silence almost sullen as he served breakfast at your little table.

“Is something wrong baby?” you asked after you had both eaten and he, still unspeaking, cleared away the plates.

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze, until you walked over to him, snaking your arms around his waist and planting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him.

“Was it a rough night? Something happen with your siblings?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly.

You rolled your eyes dramatically before resorting to a new tactic. Backing away, you crossed your arms over your chest and adopted your most dramatic stance.

“Ooh look at me,” you said mockingly. “I’m Diego Hargreeves and I absolutely love to cuddle. Until the other person gets up for twenty seconds, and then I have to pretend I’m too macho for that by the time they get back.”

He stared at you, mouth agape.

“I’m serious,” you said, dropping your voice and tilting your head to one side. “What’s going on, Diego? ‘Cus I’m not going to give up until you talk to me.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Realizing that he was stopping himself from being straight-forward with you, you frowned, stepping forward to cup his jaw and guide his eyes back to yours.

“Try again?” you asked softly.

“I don’t want to bother you or be an inconvenience,” he admitted, so quietly you still almost didn’t catch it, voice trembling with the slightest hint of his stutter.

Immediately, you snaked your arms around him, pulling him close to you, smiling as his hands came to rest on your hips.

“You listen to me Diego Hargreeves, and you listen well,” you said seriously. “You are never, ever an inconvenience or a bother or a burden. I love you.”

He stiffened at the words, as he always did, even after months of you saying them, like he thought there was a ‘but’ coming or you were going to use that love against him. It broke your heart to think about the implications of it. You pressed your forehead to his bowed one so he couldn’t escape your earnest gaze.

“I love you. And whatever you need, whatever you want, all you have to do is ask.”

“Are…are you s-sure?” His eyes were wide, face open and vulnerable.

“You caressed his cheek gently, feeling him not only lean into your touch but almost press into it, straining for even the slightest sign of affection. “Of course I’m sure, baby.”

“C-can we go back to bed…and cuddle then?” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut against rejection.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” you laughed, threading your fingers through his and tugging him back down the hallway to your shared room.

Closing the curtains so that the outside world couldn’t disturb you, you waited for him to settle comfortably into the hollow of bedding the pair of you had left behind a few hours before and then climbed in to join him. Immediately, he slid his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and tangled his legs with yours. You mimicked his position, holding him just as much as he was holding you, neither of you fully content with how close you were, even though it would be impossible to be any closer. You tucked your head into the hollow of his throat, nose nuzzling into him.

“I love you,” he breathed into your hair.

“I love you too, Diego.”

[oumiyuki]

Rikyako’s Feelings

Summary: Rikyako may or may not have a crush on Aikyan. And she has a hard time coming to terms with it and on what to do. So she seeks advice from one of the members of Aqours!

Pairing: Rikyako x Aikyan (KyanRika), hints of AnShuka too ;)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Developing Relationship and Frienship!

Words: 2460

Author’s Notes

Bet y’all weren’t expecting me to write KyanRika! Wahahaha!!!! XD

May you enjoy~ XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rikyako sighs in between catching her breath, wiping her sweat off her face with a towel in hand as she walked to an open seat in the gathering room with the long white tables.

I’m exhausted…

Rikyako notices that Aikyan sits directly opposite of her and she feels her heartbeat speed up when it should be slowing back down after their dance practice.

Ah… Aikyan is…sitting in front of me… Wiping her sweat…smiling…

“…might not be getting that part right?”

To Ainya.

Laughter bubbles out of Aikyan as she shakes her hand, reassuring Ainya and agreeing at the same time. “Yes, you should probably turn a little slower and then…Ha!”

“Ha!” Ainya mimics as taught then giggles.

Aikyan laughs along and turns back in front, catching Rikyako staring, their eyes meet and Rikyako hopes her face is still flushed from earlier instead of being caught blushing because she was staring at Aikyan.

Gosh, what do I do when I keep blushing just from our eyes meeting??

Rikyako raises her towel to use wiping her sweat as an excuse for breaking the eye contact. When she hears Aikyan talking to Ainya again, she sighs under her breath turning her head again to see that the other girls were drinking sports drinks and cooling off.

Some even wiping each other’s sweat – and by some – it was Anju and Shuka, smiling tiredly but blissfully as they pushed the towel on each other’s exposed skin to clean the sweat off, laughing about whatever they were talking about. Rikyako felt a tinge of envy.

Anchan and Shuka look so cute together… I mean they are and… If only I…

Rikyako looks back to the person who comes to mind whenever she thinks of a romantic partner and when their eyes meet again, Rikyako drops her head immediately to stare at a space on the table.

Eh!? W-Was Aikyan looking at me? Am I imagining things?

Ainya for once was sharp and noticed something going on between Rikyako and Aikyan, or perhaps it was her spot-on gay sense tingling again, but the small and cute singer asks, “Is there something you want to say to Kyan, Rikyako?”

“Eh? No…I… No?” Rikyako smiles a confused smile to Ainya, trying and failing to not let her eyes peek back at Aikyan to see her face, that beautiful porcelain face and just to see if she was looking.

If Anchan and Shuka are literal magnets, my eyes and Aikyan just might be the next magnetic thing since I cannot seem to not look. At. Her!! Aaahhh!

Rikyako kept up the serene smile while she panicked on the inside. Conflicted at how badly she wants to openly stare at Aikyan whom she has a crush on and wanted to not admit to it. Or not admit it to the world.

Ainya hums thoughtfully. “Hmm… You’ve been looking at her though.”

“N-No. I was not!” Rikyako feels her cheeks grew hot again at being called out for her blatant staring.

Ahh, was I that obvious about it??

“Hmm… Lately, you’ve been doing that a lot.” Ainya pushes.

“You’re misunderstanding things…” Rikyako does look to Aikyan again, however, and quickly averts her gaze when their eyes meet, causing Rikyako’s heart to skip a beat again.

What is with those eyes and their magic capability to make my heart do those somersault kinds of things!!

Averting her gaze by turning her head away again, Rikyako happens to make eye contact with Shuka on the left side, just done giving Anju some headpats for doing well in today’s dance practice; the leader of Aqours giving a silly “Heh heh heh” to Shuka.

Ah… I wish I could be as honest as Shuka…

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rikyako manages to avoid having to explain her obvious staring and constant fidgety behaviour around Aikyan and with everyone changed out of their practice wear and into their casual clothes; everyone was free to leave the dance studio and do what they want for the rest of the day.

Maybe I could ask Shuka for advice…

Rikyako has been thinking long and hard about this, ever since she realized her growing feelings for her groupmate who was also her subunit mate, all the time spent together and the impossible heart racing she had to live with when they were close..! Rikyako wanted some progress and felt like it would be best to confide to someone.

Shuka is always such a good listener to what I have to say…

But getting Shuka alone was hard. Shuka was almost always with someone if not Anju!

Gosh, are you forever with Anchan or what??

When resting, she was with Anju. When changing, she was talking to Anju. When walking about she was chilling with Anju! And on other times when Rikyako thought Shuka was alone, the girl was chatting with another member!!!

When will Shuka give me a chance to get her alone..! Mou!

Shuka was just about to flutter over to AiAi to chat when she lets out a surprised yelp as she was pulled by her arm backwards. “Rikyako? What’s up?”

“Can we talk for a bit? I…need your advice on something.” Rikyako blinks nervously as she blurts out her intentions.

Shuka smiles a wry smile, seemingly having a hunch on what is up. “Your treat?”

She’s a literal little sister.

“Fine.” Rikyako returns a relaxed smile at Shuka grinning cutely to get treated.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the café, Rikyako chose a corner of the store where it was quieter and less busy to sit at. Not wanting any possible eavesdroppers and also not wanting to get overly conscious about people’s gazes.

Shuka scoots into her spot and grins. “I’ll have a Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino and a…Blueberry Crumble Muffin!”

Rikyako chuckles. “Sure, sure.”

Hmm… What should I get..?

Rikyako heads up to the counter, with one person ordering in front, she took the time to browse the menu and display of pastries.

What should I ask Shuka first..? About how to be confident about my feelings..? Or about how to confess..? I guess this should be obvious.

It was her turn to order so Rikyako steps up with a soft smile greeting the cashier. “May I have a Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino, a Mocha Frappuccino, and one Blueberry Crumble Muffin?”

“One Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino, one Mocha Frappuccino, and one Blueberry Crumble Muffin. And the name..?”

“Ah. Ka-chan.” Rikyako says and lowers her head as she remembers how she thought the rest of the girls were calling her mum when they meant to use the ‘ka’ in her Rikako.

The cashier lady probably did not think much about it but Rikyako still felt slight embarrassment from her silliness.

Maybe I should have said RKK.

Rikyako makes the payment and decides to wait about instead of going back to her seat; wanting just a few more minutes to think of what she might want to ask Shuka for help with.

It’s this day and age already and yet… I can’t help but feel that there’s a chance that Aikyan might not like me that way…

Rikyako shakes her head lightly.

No, that’s not it… I’m worried…about what others would think. Everyone seems open-minded, especially seen with Anchan and Shuka’s relationship reveal…

Rikyako closes her eyes as her eyebrows knitted together.

No… There’s no point lying to myself. The problem here is that… I’m worried about what the world thinks about me being in love with another girl…

Rikyako sighs just as her name was called.

“Ka-chan.”

Rikyako puts on a smile quickly as she took her orders onto a tray and returns to Shuka who pushed her phone to the side and gave Rikyako a smile and thanks.

Somehow… I don’t feel as scared about these feelings when looking at Shuka.

“Ooh~ This looks yummy.” Shuka held the fork in hand as she eyed her dessert. “Oh, you didn’t get yourself something?”

“No, I got to keep my calorie count checked.” Rikyako smirks and Shuka laughs.

“Right, right. There was that.” Shuka takes a bite and elicits a happy sound.

So carefree…

“Were you texting Anchan?”

“Mm. Was it that obvious?” Shuka nods, swallows, and replies.

Rikyako sips her drink. “Now that I think about it, it was quite the redundant question since you two are always texting when apart.”

Shuka’s cheeks pinken slightly. “That’s not true.”

Rikyako shakes her head with a fond smile at the younger girl’s bashfulness. “Did you…tell Anchan that you’re with me?”

Shuka seems thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “She was going to take me out on a date after all.”

“Oh.” Rikyako’s eyes widens slightly. “I’m sorry, if you got something on-”

“Was.” Shuka repeats then smiles widely. “Anju texted me that she can’t believe she got beaten by you in asking me out~”

Oh… So they have yet to make plans… Thank goodness.

“It is truly hard to believe since you two are stuck together like glue!” Rikyako shakes her head again, giving herself a mental pat on the back for being able to get Shuka alone.

Shuka laughs. “It would seem to be the case.”

“It is the case!” Rikyako chuckles at Shuka’s funny smile and shaking of her head, pretending to be in denial.

Granting some silence to munch on the muffin and drink their drinks, Rikyako fidgeted with the paper that once held the straw till it was all crumpled up nicely.

“Shuka…”

“Yeah?”

“How did you decide that…you are 100% gay for Anchan?” Rikyako squishes the paper in her hand tightly, nervous about whatever answer she could be getting, nervous about the topic.

Ahhh.

Shuka looks right at Rikyako before reacting. “Pfft, how I fell in love with Anju? That’s easy-”

“The being gay part is important too.” Rikyako hurries to emphasize.

“I know. And you’re overthinking things, Rikyako.” Shuka had a gentle smile on her lips and Rikyako felt her tenseness reduce a little.

“Love is love. Regardless of gender. Anju is Anju. So… I fell in love with her.”

Rikyako nods, listening intently.

Love is love… Anchan is Anchan and so… Shuka who is Shuka. Fell in love with Anchan…

“And Kyan is Kyan. You’re in love with Kobayashi Aika-san. Correct?”

Kyan is Kyan. And I’m in love with—

Rikyako’s eyes bulged and her mouth fell agape in surprise as Shuka had a big smug grin, looking ridiculous as she waggled her eyebrows teasingly at Rikyako.

“H-How did you..?” Rikyako’s face was hot and red.

“Call it women’s intuition!” Shuka cackles.

Rikyako snorts. “Even though you’re a kid.”

“Hey! I’m already an adult!” Shuka puffs her cheeks out indignantly at Rikyako who forgets about her own crush problems as a tease bubbled in her mind and out her mouth.

“Anchan made you an adult?”

“Wha— T-That’s not the point!” Shuka blushes immediately causing Rikyako to blush a little more too.

“She did, huh…” Rikyako looks away and so does Shuka.

I guess that should be expected but aahhhh..!! No, don’t imagine it, Rikako. Shuka is too pure to be…to be… by Anchan…! No stop. The images. Aaahh!

Shuka fidgets with the straw in her drink, stirring the contents randomly. “Can we not talk of that right now?”

With extra reddened cheeks, Rikyako nods and mumbles. “Looks like I will need to look for you for help again if I can…come to terms with myself and find the courage to…”

Confess…///

“R-Right. I’m here for you, Aida.”

“Saitou.”

Rikyako and Shuka share a staring match before bursting into laughter.

.

.

.

Shuka was finished with her blueberry muffin when she props her chin on her hand. “So…Do you think you will be able to confess to Aikyan?”

“Don’t think so…” Rikyako sighs as she glanced at Shuka and back down at the table.

I know I’m in love with Aikyan but how am I supposed to even go about confessing to her???

“Rikyako.” Shuka calls for the older girl’s attention.

When Rikyako looks up into earnest brown eyes, she could not help but sit up straighter.

“Tell me who you love.”

“Eh? You already know..?” Rikyako’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Tell me who you love.” Shuka repeats with a small nod, trusting that Rikyako will catch on.

Oh… She wants me to say it aloud.

“I…” Rikyako begins and finds her voice stuck.

“I… I love…” Rikyako licks her lips and grabs her drink to help with this sudden dryness of her lips.

Why is it so hard??

Shuka waits patiently, subtly placing her drink to the side, giving Rikyako her full attention.

“I love… …”

Rikyako wanted to let out another sigh, wanted to give up and say it was too difficult for her to do so right now. Maybe she needed another day. A few more hours. Some alone time to pep-talk herself. But before she could—

“Riiikyako.” Shuka drags the first syllable for a bit and Rikyako looks up to see that patient smile again; the magic of Shuka’s smile already stealing some tension away from Rikyako’s creased eyebrows and heavy shoulders. “Just think about her. Don’t think about anything else. …Then tell me who it is.”

I love… the one I love…

“She’s lovely.”

“I’m sure she is.” Shuka’s lips pull higher as she knew it was working.

“She’s kind. And patient.”

Shuka nods and Rikyako feels something bubbling inside her – the desire to talk about the person she loves.

“She’s silly and funny. And she makes me laugh and knows me. Like, like no other…” Rikyako unknowingly lets out a dreamy sigh as she thought of her crush.

Shuka nods encouragingly.

“She’s someone that I wish to be able to…be together more. And to… h-h-hold hands with… Like you and Anchan do.”

Shuka chuckles softly. “I’m sure you’ll get to.”

“And…maybe get a kabedon or two…” Rikyako scratches her pinkened cheeks at the idea.

Shuka giggles. “She’d get embarrassed too though.”

“Very much so.” Rikyako giggles along.

“I love that about her too.”

“Me too…”

“Who is this wonderful person~?” Shuka sing-songs.

“She’s… Kobayashi Aika. I’m sure you know her too.” Rikyako grins, a glint in her eyes and a weight off her chest.

“I love Aikyan…” Rikyako says aloud, in a gentle tone, in a voice filled with so much love that it surprised herself.

Shuka beams from ear to ear. “Now go tell her that!”

“O-One step at a time!” Rikyako covers her face with both hands; failing to hide the wide smile she could not help but smile at admitting the enormous love she feels for Aikyan.

Confessing was a hurdle for another day. Right now, Rikyako simply felt lighter, like she could float up into the air with just these feelings of love she has for Aikyan. And she loved the feeling.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author Notes

PAAAAART ONEEEEEEE!!!!

Yes, you heard that right! There’s going to be another chapter of KyanRika in the near future!!! *O*

And I do hope y’all look forward to it~ XD

But first..~ How did you like this first chapter? OwO

I thought it’d be cute to touch on Rikyako being a little unsure about…admitting her feelings. It’s something that isn’t easy after all! And even if it’s so freaking obvious that she has a big crush on Aikyan, it doesn’t mean that Rikyako herself wouldn’t be worrying about it~ :))))

Also since Rikyako loves mentioning how much she likes that Shuka listens to her talk; why not let Shuka be the wingwoman while I have some of my favourite AnShuka in this right? Hehehe~ UwU

Leave a comment if you like! ^w^ Let me know your favourite parts! :D

And see you next chappie~ ;D

[rchtoziers]

a kiss discretely, reddie ❤️

13. [a kiss] discreetly. (from this list)

ANYTHING FOR YOU MY LOVE XOXO

*waves a magic wand* eddie and also stan survived and they kicked the fuck out of the clown and won because uh *spins wheel* i said so

also uh this got way out of hand before we even got to the kiss major whoops on my part ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

*

Listen, Eddie’s a risk analyst, so he understands when something is a bad fucking idea.

He knows the facts: he quite literally just finalized his divorce, he’s still in physical therapy and has a long way to go, he’s got a whole childhood’s worth of repressed memories that he now needs to work out in therapy, and up until three months ago he wasn’t even able to think about standing up without crying.

So, logically, he knows he should probably deal with one or two or all of those things before he starts a new relationship. Logically.

Logic goes out the fucking window, though, the second Eddie looked up one day at Richie and realized he’d been in love with him ever since they were kids.

Really, his only probable next step was to grab a fistful of Richie’s shirt and tug him down into a kiss they’d both been waiting for forever.

Lucky for Eddie, Richie is really easy to persuade after one or two or a hundred kisses, which is why it takes approximately two seconds after Eddie timidly asks, “Is it okay if we don’t tell anyone about this just yet? Just for a little bit?” for Richie to nod and sag his shoulders in relief as he ducks down to kiss Eddie again and again.

If Eddie’s being completely honest, he’s shocked they’ve managed to keep it a secret for so long.

Things just keep coming up.

Stan and Patty announce that they’re finally gonna have a baby, and what are Richie and Eddie supposed to do, steal their thunder? Then Bill announces his own divorce and really, it doesn’t come as a surprise, but Richie and Eddie certainly can’t rub their happiness in his face, it would be rude. They’ve finally reached a quiet point, about a month into… whatever this is when all their friends have stopped having big news, but the day they decide to text the group chat is the literal exact same day that Bev and Ben announce they’re getting married over the weekend and everyone is expected to be in attendance.

And Eddie is happy for his friends, genuinely, he’s not that big of an asshole, but the whole thing is really inconvenient for him and it honestly just gets worse when he catches sight of Richie in his best man’s tux. Eddie can’t exactly jump Richie at the wedding, so, again. Inconvenient.

Richie’s delighted laughter when Eddie flushes red at the sight of him then turns on his heel to leave the room will echo in Eddie’s ears for many years to come, however, and it almost makes it worth it.

“Dance with me,” Richie murmurs against the shell of Eddie’s ear, a few songs after Beverly and Ben’s first dance, when everyone else is on the dance floor and no one is sparing them a second glance.

“That’s not exactly discreet, Rich,” Eddie reminds him.

But Richie just laughs and twines his fingers with Eddie’s to tug him forward. “Everyone else is dancing, it would look weird if we didn’t join,” Richie says. “Plus it’s an upbeat song, so. Logistically speaking, we’re fine.”

Eddie can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. “You’re not using that word right.”

“Ooh, please teach me more about logistics, Eds, it really gets me going,” Richie croons. He spins Eddie around dramatically when they both make it onto the dance floor, ridiculous and charming as ever.

“I hate you,” Eddie sighs, but it doesn’t take much convincing to get him to move across the floor with Richie in exceedingly ridiculous ways. He’s sure his feelings are written clearly across his face for anyone to see, but for once Eddie doesn’t really care.

The song changes to a slow one, and before Eddie can even really understand it, Richie is wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and turning him slowly. It’s only natural for Eddie’s hands to fall onto Richie’s shoulders, even with those infuriating four inches of height that Richie’s got on him.

He raises an eyebrow when Richie catches his gaze.

“Bev and Ben haven’t looked away from one another, like, at all tonight,” Richie murmurs. “No one is gonna be looking at us.”

Eddie ducks his face into Richie’s neck to hide his grin. It strikes him right below his chest, sometimes, how romantic Richie can be without even trying. He thinks he could live in this moment forever and they’d both be just fine.

“You know, a lot of relationships start at weddings,” Eddie says conversationally. “Wouldn’t be much of a stretch for our friends to assume this is when we got together.”

He can feel the rumble of Richie’s laughter from where they’re pressed chest to chest. “Edward Kaspbrak, are you suggesting that we lie to our friends and tell them that this was the night I finally convinced you to be my boyfriend? Has the last month meant nothing to you?”

Eddie’s certain his grin would be enough to light up this whole venue if the power were to go out right now. He raises his head and looks Richie in the eye. “Boyfriend?” he repeats.

“What are you, twelve?” Richie asks. “Are we not dating?”

Eddie thinks he’s happy enough that he could burst into flames right now, everyone else be damned. “You’ve never called me that before, god forbid if I’m a little excited to hear it. Jesus Christ.”

“What do you want me to call you?” Richie asks, and his laughter is bubbly and bright when Eddie groans. “No, seriously, what else would I call you? My lover? The stars in my sky? My fiancé? My angel of the morning? I could pull a Stanley and call you my babylove.”

“Fiancé?” Eddie repeats, incredulous. “We’ve been together for a month, Richie.”

“I believe it’s called u-hauling in the gay community, Eduardo, learn your terminology.”

“I hate you,” Eddie sighs.

Richie lifts a hand and brushes his thumb along Eddie’s jaw. “I love you,” he says seriously, like it’s not the first time he’s said it out loud to Eddie. Like he’s said it a thousand times before.

“Did you seriously just say that for the first time at our best friends’ wedding?” Eddie asks. “Are you serious right now? What happened to us not wanting to take the spotlight away from our friends, Richie! This is why we’ve kept our mouths shut for a month!”

“Yeesh, you don’t have to say it back, I just needed to get it off my chest, god damn.”

“Of course I love you,” Eddie tells him. “I’ve been in love with you for eons. I wouldn’t have kissed you a month ago if I wasn’t so in love with you I thought I was gonna stop breathing if I didn’t kiss you. You’re it for me, asshole. Past, present, and future. Of course I love you.”

“Of course,” Richie repeats. His voice is faint; he looks a little shell-shocked.

Eddie softens. There’s a curl at the base of Richie’s neck that he tugs on affectionately. “I’m sorry if I ever did anything to make you think I didn’t love you so much it was eating me alive,” he says.

Richie laughs, startled. Bright. In love. Eddie wants to kiss him senseless. “God, it’s really fucking obnoxious that I can’t kiss you right now.”

“I was literally just thinking the same thing,” Eddie says. He takes a quick glance around the room. No one is looking at them, and even if they were, Eddie isn’t sure he’d even care. He presses up on his toes and captures Richie’s mouth in a brief, tender kiss.

Richie’s smiling before he even pulls away.

“That was pretty sneaky, 007,” Richie tells him. “I think we should give it another go.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Eddie warns.

Richie pulls him impossibly closer. “Oh, baby, all my luck got put towards making you fall in love with me, I don’t have any left. And hell, I don’t need it.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Eddie whines, but he tightens his grip around Richie’s neck anyway. The song is coming to a close and he knows they don’t have much time left, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t enjoy this for all it’s worth.

“It’s a wedding, it’s supposed to be cheesy,” Richie argues.

Eddie kisses Richie’s throat, the closest spot he can reach. Since he knows no one can see it. Since he knows that Richie loves him back.

[chloekwon-moved]

UNEXPECTED FEELINGS !

SUMMARY :: In which Chloe realizes the depth of her feelings for Sunwoo. CHARACTERS :: Chloe Kwon, Kim Sunwoo, Hwang Yeji, Choi Jisu, Lee Chaeyeon, Kim Chaewon WORDS :: 1.6K WARNINGS ::  implied drinking, drunk characters, swearing ( if i missed anything let me know ! )

Chloe wasn’t one for relationships. It wasn’t that she actively avoided them, or that she was scared of them. No, it was none of those. Chloe was a hopeless romantic at heart, she loved the idea of love, she loved the feeling of loving someone and being loved back. She wasn’t scared to be in a relationship at all, she just didn’t need to be in one.

Maybe it was the fact that her mother had barely ever been in any relationships growing up, and never once did her mom look like she was unhappy. Once, when Chloe was little and watching one of the many princess movies she loved back then, she had asked her mom why she never had her prince charming and her mom had just smiled at her saying she didn’t need one if she already had everything she wanted. It had made Chloe laugh at the time, thinking her mom was just saying that because her daughter was right there in front of her, but as she grew up, Chloe realized that she was right.

Chloe was happy. She had a great career and fans that stuck with her through thick and thin. Friends that never got bored or tired of her. She had everything she needed and she was doing what she loved, so she really couldn’t ask for more. Though, looking at Sunwoo after he drifted off to sleep, Chloe couldn’t help that small feeling she had in her stomach only a few times before. Chloe wasn’t against relationships, not in the slightest. She was a more go with the flow type person. If it happened, if happened, but she was content without having to be in a relationship. 

Chloe stared down at the man, his face soft and sweet in sleep, a little flushed from the drinks he had consumed during the night. It was late and Chloe knew she should probably go to bed, that the butterflies in her stomach were all due to the alcohol running through her system, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the peaceful boy. Today had been a rather uneventful meeting between the two, Sunwoo had called her up, saying he needed to rant about how stressed he was with the increased number of practice lately, and Chloe could never turn the boy down. So, she agreed to meet, even though she had to get up early the next day (or was it technically today at this point?), at the crack of dawn to get ready for a schedule. In her years away from the idol life, she nearly forgot just how taxing promotions can be.

She knew this was bad, she could almost feel the anxiety rising up in her chest as she realized what these butterflies meant, what it meant that she would just drop everything at one singular call from the boy. She hadn’t felt this way in so long, not even for her first boyfriend she had for all of one month during her hiatus, not since Chan. She knew this was bad, that she shouldn't feel this way, that she couldn't. What they had was casual and she couldn’t fuck that up.

Chloe let out a sigh, not loud enough to disturb the boy, pushing a few strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes out of his face, before getting up. She needed to go to bed. She needed to sleep this off, even if she would have a massive hangover the next day. It was all in her head and it would go away if she didn’t think about it. She made the short walk from her living room to her bed room, instantly plugging her phone in and setting an alarm before crawling into bed. Nala wasted no time curling up next to her, shooting her a dirty glare, almost as if she could read her thoughts and was telling her that this was a bad idea.

“Don’t you give me that look,” Chloe told her cat, rolling over and quickly drifting off to sleep.

Weeks past and to be honest, Chloe had completely forgotten about that night. She did, however, keep getting those butterflies in her stomach every time Sunwoo would call or text her, and even though the two hadn’t seen each other since that night, Chloe was ready to drop everything if that meant she would see him for a bit. Luckily, the two were very busy, Chloe with promoting and Sunwoo getting ready for all of his end of the year award shows that Chloe missed going to. It gave Chloe time to try and stop the strange emotions that were bubbling up inside her.

She wanted to talk to someone about it, someone that would help her get her head on straight, but she really didn’t know who. Yerim and Minho would turn this into some sort of lesson, or warning about her not getting her and making sure to not ruin her image (the two had taken to basically becoming her pseudo parents since her mom was all the way back in Canada). Chan was off limits since she knew she wasn’t going to be able to explain it without letting her long gone crush on him get exposed. Kevin was in a group with Sunwoo and Chloe wasn’t going to risk making things awkward between the boys. Bora would be understanding, but she’s basically the devil on her shoulder and would not be of much help in getting her head screwed on straight and Jongdae and her are still far too awkward from the whole shipping fiasco for her to talk to him about boys. 

“Who are you waiting to text you?” a teasing voice cut through her thoughts, causing the girl to look up at her computer. Her friends stared back at her and Chloe suddenly felt back for getting so lost in her own thoughts when she had agreed to facetime her friends tonight. 

It was late, but the girls felt like they hadn’t seen each other in forever, though to be fair Chloe sees Yeji and Jisu pretty often since they work in the same building, hell, the two girls only live a few floors below her anyway. Chaeyeon and Chaewon, on the other hand, were a completely different story and Chloe really does feel like it’s been ages since she’s seen them. 

They all started back at her expectantly and Chloe wasn’t sure of what she should tell the girls, she didn’t even realize that she was staring down at her phone, not even sure that she was waiting for someone to text her, though she knew in the back of her mind she was.

“Is it Sunwoo?” Yeji teased, laughing with Jisu from where they were sitting on one of the girls' beds. Chaeyeon and Chaewon joined in with little ‘oohs’, all the girls watching as a small blush rose on Chloe’s cheeks while she shyly put her phone face down so she wouldn’t get distracted by it.

“What’s even going on with you and Sunwoo anyway?” Chaeyeon questioned, tilting her head to the side slightly and Chloe sighed, figuring it was probably now or never. 

“Nothing really,” She shrugged and all of the girls seemed a bit confused. “I mean he comes over, we drink and rant, and sometimes we have sex, that’s really it.”

“But you like him,” Jisu spoke up, a knowing look on her face and Chloe knew it was more of a statement rather than a question.

“I mean maybe a bit-”

“Bullshit!” Chaeyeon interrupted with a laugh, catching Chloe off guard. “I haven’t seen you this head over heels for a guy since Chan, and we all know how whipped you were for him!”

All the other girls nodded, though Chloe knew for a fact that none of them were there to witness her hopeless crush on Chan. Both Yeji and Jisu joined JYP after her crush had finally settled and was gone, though Chloe knew that there had still been many rumors about it floating through the trainees at that time. Chaewon was a newer addition to their little group, only joining once Chaeyeon had pulled her into their meetings, saying that their group needed to expand more, so Chloe was certain she had no actual clue what Chaeyeon was talking about. 

There was a long pause, Chloe being far too stubborn to admit that Chaeyeon was in fact right, because she, herself, didn’t even really want Chaeyeon to be right. “Look,” the slightly older girl started with a small sigh. “I just think that you should tell him, or at least talk to him about what your relationship actually is. I just know you were so into Chan last time and even though nothing happened you still came crying to me about literally everything and I don’t want to see that same thing happen to you again.”

Chloe shrugged, pushing the thought of Sunwoo hooking up with other girls out of her mind. “I’ll be fine, trust me.” she said a tone of finality to her voice and the rest of the girls nodded, quickly moving on to other topics and laughing deep into the night.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

The Headless Halloween Special || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Halloween

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Some good stories are real, and there he is.

CONTAINS: mild gore, death

Stuffing cartons of milk behind dusty boxes of organic tea was a thankless job, and not a job anyone should be doing at all, actually. But Deirdre grinned wide and lopsided, proud of herself and hungry for more in the same breath. In any other month, she might have spared one pitying thought to the poor underpaid, overworked employee that would undoubtedly come across it and the acrid scent of spoiled milk. “What should we do next?” She beamed at Morgan, brilliant under the harsh grocery store fluorescents. For the better part of an hour, going around their usual shopping trip to cause what little bits of mischief they could, she had been bouncing on her feet, excitedly taking Morgan’s hands in hers and awarding her girlfriend generously with kisses and whispered affections. While delight of mayhem was nothing new, the season sparked a certain propensity inside fae, and especially for Deirdre--who had never gone this far into October without indulging a ring or two. “Oh but we do need---” Deirdre reached into the shelf and plucked a particularly pungent tea off the shelf--pungency known by way of trial--and dropped it into their basket. She was sure if she steeped enough teas together she’d be able to concoct a mixture that Morgan could taste. So far she’d blocked her own sense of smell and created something that had just a whiff of taste for Morgan. It might have helped to use something with more inherent flavor, but she was nothing if not determined. “There,” she grinned again, leaning in to press her lips to Morgan in another flurry of kisses. “Ooh, we should switch prices around! We can stick some ‘out of order’ signs on things too, I brought a marker! And--and--” Her eyes darted around, seeing a kaleidoscope of possibilities. In the end, she turned to Morgan and her grin softened as it so often did for her love. She wanted to know what Morgan thought, more than anything. It didn’t matter to her how many soda bottles they hissed out of their carbonation, only that Morgan was there with her. And just as her grins softened, her words were coded: “....you know I think we were actually supposed to get milk. Last I remember we were out.” This was one for I love you and no one moment would ever be enough.  

Following Deirdre down her impulse rabbit hole was like dancing blindfolded on Hanging Rock. Morgan could sense the edge just beyond her, in the side eye of the tired cashiers, in the double-take of a fellow customer as they took a can of what they thought was baked beans but what was definitely spaghetti-o’s thanks to Morgan’s deft re-packaging skills. But Deirdre, floating on the call of distant mushrooms and the buzz of All Hallow’s Eve, reeled her from exhilaration, to panic, and back to safety again with just a crook of her finger, a stretch in her smile, a whisper in her words. Nestled so close on their misfit misadventure, with Deirdre’s lips fluttering around her like so many butterflies, Morgan almost forgot her fear that this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her, keep her.  Morgan fished out her notebook and craft tape from her purse and handed them off to her girlfriend; she had come prepared.

“I think that’s an excellent idea, my love,” she said, stretching up to kiss her back. “I bet you could switch the bathroom signs with the storage closet signs too.” It was going to make a lot of work for a lot of underpaid and undervalued workers, a pain Morgan understood too well, but whatever havoc they wreaked was better than losing Deirdre for two weeks and risking just as many people getting maimed and murdered with her mushroom brainwashing. So, really the universe should thank her for the mischief or keep its trap shut.  And even if Morgan was hesitant to admit it, the experience was a little thrilling, especially given the night. In trying to get nearer to Deirdre’s mindwave, Morgan was able to unglue herself from some of her concerns. Tomorrow, when the black and orange crepe went down and the skeletons folded into boxes, she would worry about the consequences. But here, under the dangling cardboard Frankensteins and Draculas, it was all hazy and not quite real.

Grinning, Morgan peeled off a sale sticker and moved it across the aisle before saying, “When we pick up that milk, we can take an extra carton to hide somewhere til it spoils in a few days?” She said. “Ooh! Or maybe by the heating vent, so it gets smelly faster and the smell circulates!” She steered their cart toward the refrigerated section. “Also, what are your thoughts on cream or eggnog? It’s so pungent, it might be good to try. But I want it to be something you like too, just in case.” She pulled open the frozen doors and took out some of the cartons they needed when the sound of shattered glass broke through the hum of the everyday. Morgan clutched Deirdre’s sleeve. “Babe…?” She said, voice shrill in a way that asked what’s going on?

Deirdre set about making her ‘Out of Order’ sign, the letters big and bold and straight, her best attempt at typeface. The idea to switch the bathroom and storage signs was genius, and she whispered as much to her girlfriend, aglow with affection for her. They hadn’t quite mastered pushing a cart around while stuck together the same way they had walking, but Deirdre tried it anyway, body flush against Morgan’s band and arms wrapped around her waist. She had her love sandwiched between her and the cart she commanded, delighted at the ease at which she could lean down and press her lips to Morgan’s neck. Eggnog by the heater was such a good idea, yes, she mumbled her praise there, equally as gleeful about the mischief they could commit as she was about simply being in the presence of her girlfriend. In fact, she could have left the mischief altogether, and basked in her love. The part of her that retained sense, questioned if Morgan thought this was as fun as she did. She hadn’t stopped to ask yet, and just as she parted her lips to do it, shattering glass cut across their conversation. Deirdre snapped up, trying to hear the residual ring of a scream---maybe Regan thought it was a good idea to shop. But there was no scream, just the murmur of confused humans around her. “Someone must’ve just dropped a jar…” She sighed, eager to get back to their fun. But as her grip snaked tightly back around Morgan, she considered that the crash was too loud to be a tiny jar. Was it a whole crate dropped? No, there wasn’t enough rattling for that. Deirdre knew her glass breaking well, and it sounded more like a window. Then, as she considered it again, did she really care about someone’s window? There was Morgan and the prospect of stinky eggnog and what did it matter to her if the window broke and---Deirdre blinked. She remembered Constance, and her rage and havoc, and frowned.  “Let’s go see, okay?” Her voice turned soft, “it might just be nothing, but there’s never anything wrong with going to check.” She took the cart from Morgan’s grip and took the lead as she moved them along.

She stiffened suddenly, shot up like an animal on alert. The cart slipped from her grip, crashing into the shelves, letting a few cookie boxes topple down into their cart. Deirdre thrust her hand into her pocket and fished out her enchanted choker, snapping it around her neck. She was aglow with something else now and she turned to her girlfriend with a toothy grin. “Someone’s going to die!” Deirdre took Morgan’s hand and sprinted to the scene---she couldn’t be late for the show, after all.

Morgan froze alongside Deirdre, her anxiety firing off one catastrophe after another in her mind. Constance loved breaking windows. If her classroom invasion was anything to go by, she was sure to like a grand production too. Maybe she’d gotten tired of waiting and she’d plough through the whole store so there was no one left to help her. Maybe she was trying to turn into a poltergeist on purpose, and reach that last bit of power she didn’t have yet so she could have all the fun she wanted. Or maybe this was some new eldritch horror. Maybe this was how the literal apocalypse started. Neither Deirdre nor her were going to know if this was where Morgan died. It wouldn’t be as peaceful as before. She wouldn’t be held or loved, she would just be here one second and gone the next, like that moment when you realize you’ve tripped and you’re about to fall. It would end with a gasp, and she would be all alone, and maybe… Deirdre fumbled for her choker and Morgan pulled her down as if for a kiss. It gave her something to hold on to, and if anyone was watching anything but whatever had just happened, they wouldn’t see the veins on her face. “You’re beautiful all the time,” she muttered, eyes flickering around them. Was it going to come when she turned around? Was it coming right now?

Then Deirdre pulled back, smiling like a kid in a Christmas special.

Morgan’s face pulled with confusion. “Uhh…” Before she could find the words for a question, they were sprinting down the nearest aisle to a cluster of humans holding out their phones to capture the mayhem.

“Deirdre—!” She hissed. “Wait! What if it’s—!” Dangerous? Potentially lethal?

A twenty-something guy stood in the middle, doused head to foot in blood. It was clumped all over his face and glasses, and running brown, ugly stains on his tweet and t-shirt combo. “Not cool, this was my grandpa’s vest! And you know what, he makes better fake blood than this! From the grave!” He pointed angrily and took off his glasses, trying in vain to wipe them clean while stained all over. Morgan followed his finger, still clinging tight to Deirdre so they wouldn’t be separated.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Morgan whispered.

The horse was darker than dark. Morgan felt sure he wasn’t even black at all, just that her brain didn’t know how to process the void of death turned into hair and lean, restless muscle. Its eyes seemed to glow beneath its long, wild hair. Steam rose from this nostrils as it sniffed and reared, looking for something. The rider was dressed to match his steed. Everything from his cloak to his gloves were black and brought to a shine. He—and it must have been a he, Morgan had seen the cartoon specials and the horror movies and the legends too many times for him to be anything else—clasped the bridle with one hand, assured and patient. She had never been more awed or scared of such calm. How could such menace be so still?

He turned to survey the store. How he could manage that with no head, Morgan couldn’t guess, but she felt someone, something’s attention on her and felt it fade again. He lifted a saber, bright as the glinting spurs on his boots, and steered the horse into the crowd of shoppers, already taking aim.

Morgan watched, too transfixed to look at Deirdre as she hissed, “Is that what you saw?”

Deirdre didn’t know how, when or why it would happen, only that it would and that it would be here. The sting of holding in a scream would be worth it to watch the last moments of life for herself, in person---as if a vision would spoil the surprise. If only she’d known who she’d be seeing, she would have let her scream rip across the store. She could imagine no greater honor than announcing him with a wail. “The Dullahan…” Her delight grew in invaluable measures. She pulled Morgan close to her, arms strategically protective of her neck lest the Dullahan have slippery fingers. She smiled at the argumentative human now marked for death, she hadn’t screamed for him just yet, but she committed his face to memory so she might watch him later. “Where the banshee screams, the Dullahan claims…” She whispered, gaze fixed on him. He was better than any story described him; horse darker than any words could commit to description, cloaked in finer material than her grandmother cared to describe, and more commanding than their mythic retellings did justice to. “Don’t worry,” she held Morgan tighter, just as she would were they cuddling together at home, watching a movie. “The Dullahan won’t take what he hasn’t marked.” Which meant she didn’t need to keep her body wrapped around Morgan like a protective sheet, but even knowing the Dullahan’s truth, she wouldn’t be moved from concern. “You don’t have to look but…” Her warning died on her lips, sequestered between her grin. She watched his spine whip clack to the ground, dragging along as he trotted slowly, saber raised in his other hand. Would he let her come close enough to touch it? Would he let her wield it, just once? Surely, he must know of her too. The banshees and the dullahan were always linked in her stories, in the way her family spoke of his legend. Should she snap a picture to rub in her cousin’s faces later? Enamored, she nearly missed the main attraction.

It was the old man’s head who went first, a satisfying swish in the air and then a dun-dun as it bounced dully on the floor--one short hop and then nothing. Then it was his wife, who hadn’t gotten the chance to finish her screaming. The small crowd murmured around them, the bloody college student groaned his disapproval. It wasn’t realistic, he said. Too much blood, he complained. Such unnecessary gore, he could do better. Deirdre wanted to see him try. The Dullahan’s steed raised into the air, whinnying, small plumes of fire snorted out as it turned and started the trot back. Glass crunched beneath its feet as the humans conversed amongst themselves; was it fake, was it real, did they get a discount now that their fruits were blood-covered? Deirdre reached for Morgan’s hand and tugged her along. “Come on, let’s follow him! I want to talk to him. I want to--Fates, there’s so much I want to do.”      

With Deirdre’s arms snuffing out the rest of the world around her, Morgan could almost imagine that she was watching some strange immersive play. The Dullahan’s whip was so finely articulated, she couldn’t catch how it held together except by magic. It glistened under the fluorescent lights in the supermarket, cracking louder than the rotation of 90’s pop hits wheezing through the speakers. The tune changed to “My Heart Will Go On” as the blade slashed through the air. Blood flew in one curling wave through the store to the tune of a romantic flute. Morgan covered her mouth, trying not to salivate as it bounced to the floor. Even with all she knew, all she understood about the world, finding out the headless horseman and all those Scottish legends were true sent her brain into some out-of-body experience limbo until the head rolled right to her feet as if it wanted to say hello. The brain inside was probably so juicy and firm, like a fucking burger fresh off the grill. Then came the second, the old woman’s scream cut off in favor of Celine Dion jumping into the next key. The bodies thunked to the floor, which ran slick and heavy with blood. They would be soft for an hour or two, the veins and sinew tender as spaghetti. Morgan’s stomach growled and begged for just one Halloween treat. Surely no one would notice, just one mouthful and--

Then they were running.“Deirdre!”

Morgan whined, missing her chance at just one cheat night from her diet, but she managed to call out a, “Totally just performance art, y’all! Sorry about your groceries!” Before they were too far away to be heard. They chased him through the parking lot, halting by the Subaru just in time to see the Dullahan’s horse launch itself onto a car and then into running traffic with preternatural ease. It was so bewildering she couldn’t help but start to laugh. What else was next? The Great Pumpkin? Morgan scraped a glob of blood from her cheek and sucked it off. “When were you going to tell me the Headless Horseman was real? And a what--ethereal banshee groupie? Banshee idol?” She asked. From Deirdre’s rapturous voice, she had a sense that she was at least close. “Come on, fangirl, you’re not gonna beat a horse on foot.”

“He’s not supposed to be real!” Deirdre beamed, committing the sight of his horse, whip, and headless body to memory. As a child, she only dreamed of him. There were paintings and pictures, of course, but none were like this. And though she often tried to bury the little girl that she was, she tried to awaken her now. She wanted to point and say there he is. Some good stories are real, and there he is. She met Morgan’s gaze, bright with glee. There was something else she could point to here, and she wished to stir her past awake again. There’s the Dullahan and a woman that loves you, both are real, both can be real. She would have been happier to know it. “Just a tale we enjoy,” she explained, giddily hopping around the parking lot. There was no horse of her own to give chase in, though she looked around as if one might pop up---the night was magical enough, it only seemed fair. She turned to Morgan and the Subaru, far from a noble steed but certainly...better than running. “Okay but drive really fast,” Deirdre bounced into the passenger seat, forging a seat belt and pushing down her window until she could stick her head out and watch the Dullahan. By luck, he seemed to be following the roads. “And of course I’m a fan,” she pulled her head back in, “have you seen him? His whip is made from spines! And fates I wish I could dump blood on the people I screamed for, or ride in to the sound of thunderous hooves. We’d dress like him with our robes and claim heads with our scythes but it really isn’t the same.” With a sigh, she fell back into her seat. “I don’t understand why he’s running away. I think by all accounts, he should really like me. Do you think I was too excited? I was too excited, wasn’t I?” When they caught up to him, she’d remember to tone it down.

Morgan’s dry incredulity melted at the sight of Deirdre’s childlike excitement. Four year olds in line to meet the ‘real’ Santa Claus couldn’t be any closer to joy than Deirdre watching the glint of that shiny whip in the evening. Morgan kissed her then, wrapping this moment in all its strangeness up and keeping it for later when needed to remember happy times. They had no trouble speeding out of the store. By now someone would have realized that the elderly couple had been killed, for real, and would need to stay put and give statements if they weren’t simply frozen with shock. Soccer moms and dads were most likely out inching along residential streets with their small armies of foam-clad superheroes, princesses, and monsters. College kids, already walled up in their parties. The winding freeway was quiet. The mist that rolled down was fine enough that the scant cars ahead were easy to spot and weave around, and down and down they drove, until Morgan could see the sparks flying up from under the horse’s hooves in the dark. “Oh, babe,” Morgan laughed. “No such thing as too excited. I want to remember you being this incredibly excited forever.” She gave Deirdre’s hand a squeeze, keeping her tethered down to the car. “Maybe he’s on a tight schedule. You should get your camera out, or throw him a gift to catch, or a scream, so he knows who you are.” Morgan’s hands tingled on the wheel as she spoke; she had that feeling of being on the edge again, whirling into somewhere unknown, like anything could happen next. It was enough to silence the worried questions at the back of her mind.  “Also, when we get back, you absolutely  have to tell me about the dress up games you played. And the stories. I know of human written stories about headless riders, including at least one female apparition, but I’ve only read Washington Irving and that silly Disney special that gave me nightmares.” She nodded at Deirdre encouragingly, there was no one around to endanger as far as she could see, and they were so close, she was almost on the Dullahan’s heels. “Go on. Let yourself have this.”

The Dullahan was a myth to her family no different from love, care, and humans of equal status. What did it say that she could see the Dullahan galloping away in front of her? That Morgan was holding her hand, speaking with laughter about her excitement. “Camera!” Deirdre exclaimed, wide-eyed. She searched herself frantically for her phone. Not that pocket, no that was a knife, that was also a knife, move knives---“Got it!” She unlocked her phone and found the camera app, a skill she had only recently learned. “Do you think he’ll want to take a picture with me?” She turned to Morgan, alight with possibility. Maybe he could come over? Would he come over? But as the car moved closer to him, Deirdre harnessed her chance and stuck her head out the window. “I LOVE YOU,” she screeched with inhuman power, too thrilled to contain herself enough to stop from cracking the Subaru’s glass. Web-like ripples shot across the windows, but Deirdre’s attention was on the Dullahan. He had no head to regard her with, but it seemed like he slowed, ethereal saber raised in one hand, whip cracked against the road in the other. Deirdre’s body lifted, she fell back into her seat a smile the widest her face could manage. “Did you see that!?” She laughed with bubbling energy. “I think he was waving at me!” She turned back to him, now at a loss for what to say. She held her phone up and snapped the best photo she could, a blurry piece of his whip, and savored it. “Are we going to follow him?” She asked. “I know we really didn’t get to look at the bodies back there, but I bet he’d let you have a snack from them, if he gets to another tonight.”  

Deirdre’s excitement was so infectious, it almost took the edge off Morgan’s brain cravings. “Babe, you have to hold the phone still long enough so it can scan—babe, tap and hold the center of the screen for better exposure, the thing that looks like a sun—“ Morgan was laughing too much to be very helpful. She fished in the cup holder for her phone and tried to arrange it on the dashboard to take a video. She thought she mostly had a set up going that wouldn’t get them in a wreck, when Deirdre’s voice broke in shrill, wild waves over the night. Morgan hadn’t been thinking about the windshield when she encouraged this. The glass shattered, bowing outward as if it couldn’t get away fast enough. Morgan swerved, ears ringing, and almost launched them off the side of the road. The ringing faded in moments and she slammed on the brake so they screeched to a halt on the shoulder, just in time to see the Dullahan rear his horse ahead of them, sabre slicing the air under the full golden moon. Morgan couldn’t help but stare in a daze of disbelief of her own—was he showing off? Then he launched onto the other side of the turnpike, pounced onto a passing convertible to cut another red splatter before diving into the trees to take his next bounty.  Morgan deflated, laughing deliriously. “What the fuck…!”  She looked sidelong at Deirdre, panting as if she were alive again. “What the fuck…” It was all she could seem to say. Morgan varied the inflections, trying to squeeze the buzz of gobsmacked sensation electrifying her brain into them. When even those words felt like nonsense, she finally managed, “This is the officially the craziest Halloween I’ve ever had, and we’re not even in our costumes yet.”

It seemed like the Dullahan was here, and then he was gone. Deirdre watched him leave with her body pressed against the dashboard, trying to catch the last glimpses of him. “He left,” she pouted, but in the still of the night, another excitement rose to her. She looked over at Morgan, hair tousled by the wind, cracked windshield beyond her, and crawled across the console. She took her laughter against her lips, trapping them in a kiss. “I love you…” she mumbled, spilling her own delight. The Dullahan was gone someplace away from them, and she still had a dozen complaints about that, but for now she’d only wanted to bask in their glow of adventure together. “It’s the best Halloween,” she rasped, breaking into laughter. “Fates, I love you so much. I don’t know how we got so lucky to see the Dullahan, but I feel like it’s all you---your magic. It has to be. You make everything perfect.” She grinned and kissed her again, and another time for good measure. “I can’t believe he left.” Finally, coming down from her height of glee, she pouted, half-crawled into Morgan’s lap. “I didn’t even get to ask him if he liked that offering I made when I was twelve. And I took such a terrible photo...and his whip! I wanted to hold his whip.” Deirdre leaned against her girlfriend, sighing. “You’re amazing...you know that?” With a chuckle and a grin, mischief in her voice, she kissed her love again. “Let’s get you something to eat and then go home, okay?”

Morgan welcomed Deridre’s kiss, scooping her the rest of the way into her lap. Her hands tingled, clumsy, and she hit the car horn trying to cup her girlfriend’s ass. A passing car honked back, the shotgun passenger flashing a middle finger. “Sorry! Happy Halloween!” Morgan cackled. She hid her face in Deirdre’s shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss until her laughter petered out into soft giggles. “I love you, too,” she sighed. “So much, Deirdre. Stars above, this wouldn’t be fun at all if you weren’t here.” Without Deirdre she would have been terrified, and then scarfing down the elderly in the middle of the supermarket and ending up arrested or meme-ified on YouTube. But her head was light and tingling, maybe from repairing some minor damage, but mostly from the strange thrill of following Deirdre’s company wherever it led her. As they kicked back the chair and Deirdre finally settled herself against Morgan’s body, the zombie felt herself falling back into the warm safety that was them.

With the Dullahan gone, the only sound was the woosh of cars speeding past them, the night song of hungry bugs and owls and bats. Inside the Subaru, cracked and dented again, the quiet was perfect. “I don’t have any magic left in me to summon your childhood heroes for you, babe,” Morgan said. “If there’s any kind of magic going on, it’s the two of us, together. Everything’s better when it’s you and me.” Sometimes better was just hurting less; sometimes, more delight and strange, incomprehensible wonder than she knew how to process. “If you ask me, he wouldn’t have waved—twice—if he didn’t think you were pretty great, Deirdre.” Maybe he was a menacing show-off by nature, but with Deirdre on her shoulder, the kindest reading of the night felt like the right one. “You’re amazing,” Morgan murmured, growing soft and quiet as the rush continued to peel away from her like so much traffic.

She snorted dryly at Deirdre’s suggestion and kissed her again. “You just want to get out of Linda’s costume party,” she teased. “I’ll just have the leftovers at home. And we’ll have our own fun and treats before we arrive fashionably late for the party. How’s that for a good time?”

“By Death, Fate, and everything there is to be in this world, I love you Morgan. With Fate’s command, I love you. I love you.” Deirdre’s prayers became a nonsensical jumble of ancient phrases and what she could remember of her family’s religious teaching. Her mother would have called it blasphemy to take Fate’s name and press it to the skin of a once-human, still wholly human. But Deirdre thought it was right, it was true. Worship of Morgan was one she would gladly take part in, even squished together in the same car seat at the side of the road. Magic was a good way of putting it; something so beyond natural order that it defied law and rule. Something freer than the wind, more nebulous than the stars. Something that was just the two of them, together and at peace and in love. “And if you ask me,” she started with a smile, lifted her teeth from where she had begun nipping at Morgan’s neck, “he wouldn’t have showed up at all if the world wasn’t kind and good, just like how you make it.” With a huff, she pulled her arm out from where it had gotten crammed between Morgan and the armrest and reached it up to cup her love’s cheek. “I wish someone would have told me years ago that good things are real; the Dullahan, nights like these...you. Ignorance might have helped convince me that there was nothing better, but I think the truth would have made life so much easier to get through. If I knew I’d be here, one day, my days would have been colored with happiness.” Just as they were now. She leaned down and kissed Morgan again, content to stay there, content to—Deirdre groaned, and then dissolved into laughter. “I was hoping you’d forgotten,” she breathed, “I don’t want this night to end, sue me.” And, well, as far as she was concerned, Linda’s costume party was a doomed event by concept alone.

But she knew, with resounding truth, that everything was better when they were together. Even parties hosted by their annoying neighbours. And so, she smiled and said simply: “that sounds perfect to me.”

[madmadmilk]

Like  Dark Chocolate Part 7 | Tom Holland x Reader (FINALLY)

IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING, BUT WE’RE BACK IN THE GAME BABEYYY. Thank u for waiting so patiently~ it literally took like 6 months lol pls be kind ((pics not mine))

READ THE TEASER FIRST | PART 1 | PART 2| PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | (Updates next week?)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You can’t help but fall into something familiar, something warm, something you deserve. He’s been waiting for you while you’ve been wondering. They say time heals all wounds, but the real question is, how much time does it take to even believe you’ve healed?

Warning: Swearing, sweating, and something like forgiveness

Word Count: 10.8K petals on the floor

Special thank you to some of my lovely BETAs: @fangirl-writer-awesomeness @laucontrerasv @spidey-waffles11 (and honestly anyone who sent asks looking for this. thank you)

-

“Same old Tom.”

Your head tilts as you look into those familiar chocolatey browns. You can see the arrow run straight through his heart. It’s the first time he’s hearing your voice say his name in a month. And it’s one of the few times you’ve let yourself say it out loud.

There’s a familiar taste that coats your mouth.

I don’t want to admit it but––

A shallow breath catches in your throat, a faint smile on your lips. You just can’t hold it back anymore, old feelings threatening to spill over.

I do miss you, Tom.

They were never really forgotten.

Just a little bit.

And well, you could never hide it from yourself.

You fight the smile on you dry lips from widening, you fight the warm flush ferociously crawling up your chest, you fight every urge in your body from jumping up to wrap yourself up and all around him.

You missed him.

And the bare sight of him is enough to drive you mad.

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has been,” you reply curtly, eating up the sight before you. He was dressed in a rush, slouchy, ruffled but smelling like a cosy detergent and sexy shampoo. The giddy smile has never left his lips.

The space between you both is maddening, easy to be made close, easy to pull further apart.

Your fingers twitch by your sides.        

Ha.

He probably can’t even remember the text he sent you–– “Blink 3 times if you miss me,” how the hell would you count how many times a person blinks? We do it all the time? When does the clock run––

But, Tom… Tom gets it. Of course he does.

1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.1, 2, 3.

A devilish grin stretches across his boyish face, an overwhelming excitement vibrating through him. He stood taller, shoulders hunched up as he leaned forward. It was a short victory he would hold against you and then it evenly faded into a relieved smile. The corners of his brows pull down as he lets out a soft sigh. You can hear the click of his tongue. His shoulders slump in satisfaction, and cheeks pinken as if his whole body being was saying, “thank god, thank god.”

He finally has your attention, better, at your admission.

His quiet voice confirms,

“So you have been reading the things I’ve sent you,” whispering now, “And listening?”

Haha.

You give him a blank stare, but inadvertently stretch your lips from smile to pucker to smile. You’re trying not to give him anything more than your telling blinks. You’re not going to make yourself anymore vulnerable, any more needy, any more…. generous. This was already too much.

But the silence gives him one more confirmation; tells him that you still think of him, at least enough to let him think you do. And this circular rationale reminds you of just how much of a sweet lil cavity he is.

An aching pain you can’t ignore.

He nods, wiggling his jaw while his eyes dance over your shoulders to your nose and back to your eyes,

“Good to know.”

Oh, hell.

Tom’s confidence comes and goes as he laughs to himself, only to flush in embarrassment. Neither of you can keep your composure. Both of your minds roll over all the little things he’s said in the messages and that’s more than enough to fill the remaining gap between you.

You feel like you know almost everything he’s feeling right now.

Almost, almost.

He clears his throat, scratching his head and bowing down,

“Listen, I–I really didn’t expect to see you at all. For the while. It’s just that Mal messaged me about an emergency, just saying that it was you and––“

“It was me. I sent it,” you clarify, not wanting to smear any more blame on your ill neighbor. Hadn’t she had enough? Questionably.

“I used her phone.”

“Oh,” he laughs emptily. You see his entire face sink in guilt. He scratches his head a little harder, trying to piece it together.

“She practically begged me to get your attention and she––“ he hums to your truth, “She showed it to me. I… I saw the messages she sent to you.”

Tom freezes, and drops his hand. He searches for an answer in your eyes. His blinks are slow, and the deep stare makes you all too aware.

Suddenly, you wonder if that was a breach of his privacy, if his healing should have been done alone. If you had stepped into a part of him you weren’t meant to see.

You step forward, putting your hands up.

“Sorry! Uhm, she… She let me read what she sent you, at the end… end of it all,” an uneasy chuckle falls past your lips, “She left your conversation open… and yeah, I saw a little bit. I think she was apologizing to me with it… or something like that.”

He nods, stare looking past you now, far away. He mutters under his breath,

“I’m still waiting for one too.”

And now you felt the restlessness of guilt; maybe it was a breach of trust. You squeeze your eyes tight for a second, trying to reorganize yourself, trust this and trust that. You’re getting tangled deeper into problems you were trying so hard to move past, smooth past.

The truth is all you have left.

You offer him a way out of the storm, praising softly,

“At the very least, I want to say thank you… for uhm, letting me know you were coming.”

His brows twitch into a furrow before he smiles gently, his cheek pulling.  His hands were itching to reach out, to hold you. And, honestly, if he did… you wouldn’t resist too hard. Maybe.

“Of course,” Tom confirms so lovingly. In that short phrase you can hear the tumbling of his feelings, the way he had to hold back from spilling his heart out and taking all of you in his arms, up and away from this cursed apartment.

But you both hear the echo of your own words, cast like a spell, “give me time.” So he did.

“And…. I’ll be getting out of your hair now.”

Your head tilts as you take him all in. His hair has dried, somewhere between curls and waves, the bags under his eyes are deep but the expression on his face is warm. You notice his pause, wondering if you should ask him to stay.

You can’t.

And he knows that.

Tom cracks into a laugh, rolling his head in a circle. You stand back on your heels, tension dissipating. He rocks back too, and starts to pick up his scattered jacket and hat. He puts them on quickly and you lean against the back of the couch. The apartment is quiet, save for the sound of his rustling clothes.

He heads to the door, ruffling his hair before he sticks it back under his cap. His hand is on the doorknob, cranking it slowly. He turns back to give you a dazzling smile,

“It was really, really amazing to see you again.”

You stomach flips. You can only nod and smile, as he holds your gaze. He looks down stepping out and––

“Hey! Tom?”

He looks over his shoulder expectantly, and you take the door. He’s still halfway inside your apartment, and sorely full in your heart. He raises his brow in question, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you hold the door open for him.

Here it goes.

“I… I stayed around because… I kind of wanted to see you.”

His jaw drops.

“It was nice.”

And that goddamn heart-stopping grin is burned into your memory. You could see the sunshine and hope leaking out of his pores as he smiles with an open mouth.

Ooh.

And with a boyish chuckle, he accepts.

“Thank you, Y/N,” the flushing boy turns back and retreats with a happy skip,

“I’ll see you around.”

My name.

You don’t let yourself watch him walk away for too long, and shut the door quickly. Similarly, trying to shut out the emotions welling in your chest. Warm, worn, weak.

If Mal was awake, listening, or even remotely on “your side” you could just imagine her slow clapping to that awkward exchange.

You and Tom had finally moved forward; maybe they were baby steps. Or maybe they were even something less.

Anything is better than where you were nearly a month ago.

You retreat back to the couch and sink into your spot, alone with your rambling thoughts. Are we in, or are we out? Are we back? Is there more? Are we less––?

Gah.

You laugh as you wipe your hands over your face. You pull your cheeks down and let out a garbled sigh.

It’s really annoying how much you miss the taste of chocolate.

-

☎️ “Hey, It’s Tom. Again. Uhm, alright… This…. This feels ten times MORE awkward now that I know that you actually listen to these. Haha, shit! And I’ve sounded so pathetic in every single message–– hahaha, but, uhm, thanks. Not sure what part I’m thanking you for… but… I’m just thankful for you. Hah, hope that’s okay. I really just can’t believe I got to see you. It’s really been a long while, and I… I just wasn’t sure how we were even going to meet again. And, I realized I don’t have many pictures of you and you haven’t updated ANYTHING so––– oh, oh my god. I didn't mean to sound so fucking creepy! I swear I’m not checking on you everyday or something, hahahaha. Wah! I–– well. I don’t think i’ll ever forget what you look like, and I hope you’ll let me stick around……………… ugh, I’m the worst. For fucks sake. Hm….. you…. You really did look amazing, babe. I couldn’t breathe. And maybe you look even better without me……. Ahem. Ah, yeah. Sorry this is a fucking, that I’m a fucking mess. I’ll leave you be. Yeah. I’ll-- uhm, later. Bye, Y/N. I’ve missed you too.”

-

☎️ “Hey! Hey, uhm, It’s me. Tom. Again, again. Haha. Okay, uhm, totally slipped my mind, but I’ll be at Jay and Jae’s wedding like next, next week. Harrison said you were going as his date? Yeah, no problem with that. Just– uh, yeah. Just letting you know i’ll be there too. I know Mal, is invited so, she might be around? I’m not too sure. And… shouldn’t Zendaya be back around that time? Hahaha. Yeah, i–– This is just a heads up. I…. I won’t bother you there but…. Can i say that i’m looking forward to seeing you again so soon? Because I am….. Ooooohhhh….. Okay. Yeah, sorry. I’ll see you there, or not. Bye, babe.”

-

You smooth out your dress over your legs as you sit in a stiff chair. You kick your feet next to Harrison, lost on his phone. He ignores your fidgeting.

True to Tom’s voicemails, that you did listen to the moment you got them, you were at a wedding. Together, but not exactly. Jay and Jae were distant friends of yours, closer to Tom and his group of friends more than anyone else.

So naturally, Tom was there, sitting alone and far off, since Harrison took you as his date. He kept a professional distance, you would say.

Now, Mal was meant to be here too–– but she wasn’t. She declined without giving a specific reason, but you could imagine a few. The idea of fluffy bright whites, bouncy chatter and the honest glow of fairy lights might not shine too well on her particular shade of red.

Not that she doesn’t deserve her own sparkly moment in time, but you suppose this is all too fresh. And all too soon.

You reach out to touch the flowers wrapped around the chair in front of you. Were they real? Were they fake? You occupied yourself like this, and wondered…. Should you be feeling the same way as Mal?

Your eyes dart around, following strings of lights and greenery and warm sounds. Being at weddings, whether you knew the party well enough or not, has always made you feel loved. There's a certain warmth and love and respect that just overflows and spills into your own heart. Making you nostalgic for things you’ve never felt before.

So lovely.

Your thumbs smooth over a large petal.

And a ceremony like this…. Isn’t that bad. One day…

Your eyes flicker up, immediately finding that curious cute cavity.

One day maybe.

Tom is sitting with his arms resting on his legs. He switches between looking up, waving at distant friends and checking his phone, only to put it away quickly. He’s fidgeting too– trying his hardest not to look directly back at you.

You still catch him a few times.

You lean back, obscuring yourself from his view and  line up your arm with Harrison. You lean your head on his shoulder and laugh to yourself, pressing a fist against your lips to stifle it.

“Hm?” Harrison hums, craning his neck to see your face, “What’s so funny?”

You quiet down and smile gently. Curiosity is bubbling inside you and you feel like you’re in such high spirits–– the giddy nature of weddings is infectious, after all.

Is it because you feel like you have the upper hand tonight? Because Tom is trying so hard to not stare, but is so bad at hiding it? Because you feel like nothing can go wrong from this point?

Knock on wood.

Having Harrison by your side definitely feeds you a bit of confidence, at his expense. But you don’t think of that immediately. Things are only just coming to focus for you, and you eyes are willing to see.

You squeeze Haz’s arms softly, and suggest,

“Shall we invite him over?”

The golden haired boy scoffs, cocking his head back before looking at you,

“You sure about that?”

“‘Can’t leave him looking like a chump all by himself, right?”

He smiles at your thoughtfulness, raising his eyebrows then standing up. He calls over his friend quickly without much question. Tom perks up at the call of his name, and you could see his eyes widen across the ways.

He shimmies his way over, dodging people with a easygoing smile. He stands next to Haz, nodding his head politely,

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, come sit with us,” you offer plainly, pointing beside Harrison.

You could see Tom doing the math in his head, but he doesn’t challenge it. He smiles instead, a little wary and a little stiff but thanks you. You could hear Harrison snort in dull annoyance, making you giggle.

You’re giddy for real.

Haz is sat between you two during the wedding ceremony, but you can feel whenever either of them turn to look at you, hot stares on your cheek. You all sit and stand together, following the procession.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” the taller boy teases over the tension, bumping you with his elbow. You bump him back and he continues, “I’m in the line of fire.”

“Shut up!” you whisper back to him, catching Tom’s attention.

He turns to you, only like quarter cheek, but you can see the side of his eye wrinkle and how his cheek lift in a smile. You’re left looking at the teasing image of his jaw and ear and cheek and the tangle of waves on the nape of his neck––

Bring the heat.

The ceremony ambles on, and in the lull you hear Tom joke with Haz,

“Can’t wait for the drinks, man.”

Pffft.

His face was dusted pink. He needed something to keep him cool, something to do with his hands, and it might as well take the edge off too. It really couldn’t do much harm at this point. But would it even help with his nerves?

You stop yourself from giggling again, some kind of ancient, wretched, cliche girliness crawling out from you. You’re trying to play coy, but you can’t go exposing yourself.

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? And know you’re wanted?

Feels a little nice to be on this end, you have to admit.

You pull through the rest of the service, crying as the grooms whisper their vows to one another. Honestly you could barely hear it, but the way that they cried and smiled and cheered told you everything you needed to know.

Your heart swells as they kiss and walk by, everyone throwing handfuls of petals over them. It rains pink and white, a small flurry of love.

And while you take in the loving visual, you miss the way that a certain brunette turns back to catch a glimpse of you. Through the light mist of flowers, he sees a happy tear mark down your cheek and wishes nothing more than to be by your side and wipe it away.

“Catch you in a few,” comes Harrison’s voice and parting tap on your shoulder.

“Huh?” you blink, rubbing the corners of your eyes delicately.

He smiles, tilting his head towards company calling his name. He disappears into the crowd after giving your shoulder a squeeze and Tom a sharp pat on the back.

Ah, alone at last. You roll your eyes and nod to yourself.

There’s a wave of people leaving the ceremony to walk over to the reception hall, but you end up waiting in your row with Tom. You step close to his back, peering over him to see if it would be any easier to get out. You don’t talk.

After a while of being stuck, you both dart between chairs and exit the opposite way. You feel his hand almost touch the small of your back as he urges your way through.

The touch doesn’t connect, but a part of you wish it had.

You laugh bitterly as you push through the doors that lead out. It’s more than a bit ironic that you meet again at a wedding. The place of commitment and love and attempt at eternal happiness.

It’s kind of funny actually.

You step onto the sidewalk, shivering slightly at the cool spring weather. The smell of spring and summer was strong, but your teeth still chattered.

You stand side by side as you wait to cross the street, cars zipping through. You’re too aware of the space you hold between each other. You hold your hands to your chest and look ahead to the reception hall, glittery lights and soft noise wafting through.

“That was beautiful,” Tom comments quietly.

“Wasn’t it?” you smile, brought back to those glimmering emotions. You blink the wetness away from your eyes as you face him for a moment.

I’m such a sucker.

His hair is gelled back neater than usual, though a rogue curl tries to coil at the side of his head.

For…. things………..

“Mhm,” he hums, returning your gaze warmly. Those dark browns caught a twinkle the evening glow. Your heart beats oddly, as your lips pressed together. Tom smiles then taps the back of your arm, looking ahead of you.

“Let’s cross this street now.”

And you walk behind him, following his steps while skipping in your formal shoes, watching the broad sweep of his back in a smart black jacket.

You felt safe here.

Again.

-

Tom stood by your side as you crossed the threshold of the reception hall. The clack of your shoes against the hardwood didn’t catch any new attention but it sounded so fucking loud to you.You felt his shoulders roll back, as yours did, taking in the beautiful sight. Fairy lights and flowers and white drapery, hidden and highlighted by crowds of people. Wah.

You turn your cheek softly to look at him, your lashes fluttering. He was doing the same thing, both cautious of what to do and what to say next. You can’t stand at the entrance forever.

Oh, fuck it all––

“Hey! Tom! Is that you–?” a new voice crackles into range. Said boy ducks down and hollers back to an unfamiliar crowd, stepping away from you.

“Y/N!” and that call was for you, from a blonde you could hardly call yours.

You bounce back to Harrison, quickly hooking your arms into his without thinking. You wanted cover, fast.

Tom’s presence beside you was short lived as you went separate ways to greet some familiar faces, to your frail relief. You both get swept away in the tides of people, hardly saying goodbye to one another. Hm. You look back over your shoulder to see Tom smiling back at you gently. Hmm. He nods simply, then turns away.

See you later.

You suck in your cheeks, feeling a pang of disappointment as your expectations didn’t last long. But it’s fine. It’s fine. You weren’t even counting on spending the time that you did with him. Its fine! Really!

You float between hanging out with Harrison to meeting up with some old friends. Eventually starting to be dragged away by some especially gossip-y pals, Jenn and Sam. You hold on to Harrison’s arm as they tug you away,

“Nooooooo, guys, I can’t leave him by himself!”

Haz pries your fingers off one by one, sticking his tongue out and pointing behind him,

“Don’t worry about me, I have some other chumps to hang out with.”

You tilt your head for a second to see Tom, of course, looking down. His hands are stuffed deep into his pockets, laughing to himself, a pretty smile you wish you could have ignored. There’s a little unease that you notice about him too quickly, and that’s when you bounce back up.

Ha.

“Enjoy,” you say quietly, quite literally being pulled to the bar.

Conversation blends in seamlessly, with the help of some casual alcohol and swishy dancing. You haven’t met with them in along time, catching up and dissecting updates you’ve only seen through instagram and facebook. Then that drama starting spilling out as you look deeper into your cup, seeing where it all was heading….

“So, I heard Tom and Mal officially split,” Sam starts.

“Tom and Mal? They were a thing?” Jenn gasps.

“Yeah, official-ish–– right, Y/N? You roomin’ with Mal right now, yeah?”

And you nodded, “Yeah.”

“And they’re over? Done?”

Their eyes both shone bright with excitement, nearly licking their lips for the spill. Please, oh please! Share that shit!

You hold your shakey glass to your lip, wishing you didn’t have to answer this. But under their wide eyed stares and the desire to speak some truth, you squeak,

“Yeah, something like that.”

And they assume the pitying position quickly with,

“Oh, poor Tom. I knew he’d get dumped. He’s too nice and Mal was obviously taking advantage of that––”

And,

“Oh, well, I heard that Mal was just trying to use him to get back with someone.”

“Like, Jon, right? Or was it Tobey? I don’t remember––”

“Yeah, and Tom isn’t the type to date frivolously, so he must have known––”

Their story was wrong, but not so wrong. Just enough to get you itching. Itching to set it straight  and itching about whether or not you had the authority to correct them. Like what, just save Tom’s face, and tell them that Mal got what she deserved? That could be easy. But what happens when they ask about your role in this story–– is it even yours to tell?

“They did look great together though, Tom was head over heels for that bitch.”

“How could she let him go? I mean, the girl was all over everyone all the time, but Tom was a good one.”

They looked for him in the crowd, spotting him and cooing in pity. They were being so obvious, god. And at this point, you really couldn’t help yourself. You spoke in a hushed tone,

“Hm, actually, Tom dumped Mal.”

“Huh? For real?” and “Tells us what happened!”

You pause for a second, trying not to get in too deep.

“I don’t know for sure, but Tom realized he could… be better.”

“‘Be’ better? Not ‘do’ better? What do you mean by that?” Sam pushes, leaning closer to you, stepping by your side so you could both get a view of Tom swaying with some friends.

You shrug, turning your back to Tom, “I don’t know! I just saw the aftermath. I haven’t really talked to him, or Mal. It’s been tense–– you know?”

“Yeah, we get it,” Jenn nods solemnly, but perks up to wave, “We can just ask Tom himself! Hey! Tom! Harrison!”

Gah–!

Both of them are waving and making a scene towards the pair of boys somewhere behind you. You can only hunch your shoulders to brace yourself. It’s not like you could just walk away––

And “poor” Tom didn’t even realize you were there until the last second, freezing as he stops next to you.

Huuuu.

You’re very aware of how close he is.

With no formalities, no greetings, your friends cut right to it, only directing themselves towards the darker brunette,

“So, how have you been, Tom?”

He shrugs coolly, laughing sheepishly. His eyes are a little half-lidded as he blinked,

“Just… ask what you want to ask.”

Woah.

You look at him in dull surprise, Harrison too. You notice the soft pink glow on his cheeks and how he’s supporting himself on one leg. Maybe he’s drunk?  Maybe he’s just that ready to get it over with.

Cheers.

“Sooooo, you? And… Mal?”

“Not a thing anymore,” he shrugs again, holding up his beer bottle and smiling cryptically.

Your old friends turn on the pity again.

“Awwww, but you guys were so cute together!”

You have to squint your eyes at that remark, knowing they were egging him on. Buttering up the situation, but…. Ugh. You hate these kind of exchanges. But hey, transitions are important right?

Tom tries hard not to look at you as he nods slowly, explaining only a little bit more.

“Yeah, we… just didn’t work out. We… we wanted different things.”

You could see the questions bubbling in their pretty lil heads, but they offer some kindness, some room to take a breath.

“Oh, well good on you for getting out, Tom. We’re happy for you.”

And there it goes. You laugh under your breath at their blatant flip of the coin.

Tom smiles a little warmer this time, eyes crinkling genuinely.

“Thanks, ‘appreciate it.”

“And you know,” Jenn sings, shimmying her shoulders, “If you’re looking for a new, new love. There’s plenty of candidates right here!”

She bumps your shoulder, making you fall towards him. You dance a few steps forward, clinging onto his arm to balance yourself. You scoff as you stand up straight, your hand gripping his sleeve and nearly stretched across his chest.

Oh.

He stiffens beneath your touch.

Right.

You pull back to yourself, stepping aside as he clears his throat. Your brows furrow but he continues to speak uninterrupted.

“Ahem, yeah… thanks. I’m still–– I’m figuring things out. But I’ll be sure to do it right next time.”

Next time.

And you crack a one-sided smile, pursing your lips and looking down. Haha.

Harrison gives Tom’s shoulder a hard pat, not to be forgotten.

“If you get a next time!”

Oh, that was a bit pointed. A little sharp.

Tom opens his mouth in reaction, booing. Harrison laughs wide hugging his shoulders as everyone teases. You can’t look straight at him, knowing that you would fold and join into the glee all too quickly.

He looks too pretty in this light.

“Well, we still have some rounds to make,” Haz hugs Sam, then Jenn, then you, “We’ll grab a drink with you later.”

You close your eyes in the short embrace with Harrison, recharging. He squeezes your shoulder and starts to pull Tom away. Tom was in the middle of hugging your old pals, no hard feelings.

He gets to stand before you but speaks to the group,

“Yeah, ‘nice seeing you guys.”

The one rogue curl has turned into three framing his face, his canine pokes over his lip in a warm smile, and you feel the world stop turning.

“Y/N.”

You nod, giving him a quiet goodbye, tracing the lovely expression on his face. You blink softly, calming the pinpricks in your heart.

Damn.

And before you realize it, you’re smiling.

Greaaat.

It’s getting harder to deny that he’s got you got.

Cos now....

I’m actually kind of rooting for you.

-

How great is it that wedding playlists are full of love songs, huh? Gives you lots of material to think about as you bob your head to some bops with a chilled glass of wine in hand.

“I love you” and “I need you,” those are the songs singing. And the warmth in your face? You can blame it on the bubbly.

Right.

You raise your glass with another circle of friends as you spin in a daze. You let yourself blend into the blur of company, focused on remaining present.

Present as in–– not falling too back into those chocolatey clutches. Too soon anyway.

You don’t need to spend this time thinking about Tom. You don’t need to worry about where he is or how you’ll meet again–– in the next hour? After this wedding? Next week or…

Stop!

You’re just two separate people living on this planet, and your worlds don’t need to revolve around each other. At least, not all the time.

Tom is respecting your space, and you his. You don’t know what happened during this month long break, but… you still have time to think some things through. Whatever.

You nod along with friends to the music, finding your attention drifting away as the songs switch to something slower. The spell is wearing off, clarity is coming.

“I’ll be right back,” you hum but sure they didn’t actually hear you, and head to the bathroom.

And what a surprise, he is standing outside talking on his phone.

He doesn’t see you at first, kicking his feet on the floor and spinning alone.  You tiptoe past him, and maybe that was when he notices you–– you can’t fully tell either because you’ve already made it inside.

You make no impression of it, only looking at your face in the mirror. You take out an oil-blotting sheet and press it against your forehead. You look at your reflection, and it simply stares back. Nothing new, just some lines of wear and tiredness beneath your eyes. The usual.

You exit the restroom, and he isn’t there.

Hm.

You make your way, pulled into some conversations and breaking free for another drink, waiting at the counter of the bar. Your fingers tap against the counter fidgeting not out of impatience and––

There’s a raucous eruption of laughter and rustling beside you. You turn your cheek to see none other than, that man. He’s hugging another guy as they stuff a few bills into the tip jar. He notices you this time.

Small smile, and then disappears into the crowd.

You managed to smile back as your drink came and you flit away just as quickly. There’s an incredulous laugh that edges in the back of your throat.

Hmm.

Next, you go out for some fresh air on the balcony and, huh, he’s there, too. Harrison and Tom smoke some cigars with the grooms and you quite literally smack your lips and turn a heel to the other direction.

Not the kind of air you were looking for at the moment.

You sputter a laugh in disbelief, shaking your head as you clomp your way to… wherever the hell else.

God, you weren’t even looking for him! He was just always fucking… right there. Your pace quickens and you focus on the tap of your shoes as you run away––

But there’s something else in your step.

Disappointment?

Maybe it’s weighing on you that he isn’t making any moves. Not that you want him to, but you kinda did expect him to.You see him miraculously after a month and he leaves all those begging and wanting messages and now you see him here and–– nothing.

Shit, Tom. Don’t be such a great guy.

You laugh, shaking your head, feeling your hair come undone a lil. You tuck it behind your ear as you come back to face the twinkling lights.

You’re making it hard to ignore you.

You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back in an attempt to relax. Sliding your way back onto the dance floor, you find friends and hold onto your waning freedom.

Dancing is the best way to get him out of your head. He’s outside, you’re in a tangle, you won’t find him here. You won’t even look for him here!

Shimmy. Sing. Shake. Grind.

Your eyes are closed to just fall in tune with the music, and maybe you’re dancing badly but that’s always alright. Just enough to get the feelings out.

In the throes of expressing yourself with your body, you fail to ignore another body coming up behind you, shushing your friends. Warm hands melt down your waist, rolling with the contours of your hips.

You yelp, jumping up and falling back into the body. You turn to see that it’s just Harrison, laughing smartly. His cheeks are flushed as he hugs your waist close to him,

“Hello there, thing.”

Thing.

“God! You scared me.” You swat at him, as you struggle against his arms to face him. You hug his own waist back easily, fingers spreading across his back. You giggle sheepishly, feeling the full weight of tiredness as you’re finally able to lean on someone.

His warm fingertips gently brush hair away from your sticky face, commenting,

“You’re look beautiful, even 3 hours into this thing.”

“That’s the alcohol speakin’, Haz.”

“No, no.Just accept it,” his eyes soften, watery blue, “I mean it.”

Oh, the pang of guilt.

“Not looking so bad yourself,” you say, patting his cheek. You could feel the beginnings of stubble beneath your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

The song slows and you collapse into a dance together, feet shuffling softly and heads leaned. You take solace on his shoulder, breathing in his manly cologne, still going strong. You can smell a feminine perfume mixed along in there somewhere too––

“So, where’s Tom now?” you callously ask.

“Why are you looking for him?”

“N-no, I’m just wondering,” you callously reply.

Harrison shallowly laughs at your obvious interest, shaking his head to hit his chin against you.

“‘Trying not to keep bumping into you, he says,” you hear a deep sigh come from deep within, “Ya’ll are so annoying.”

His bold hand pats the space right above your ass in poor punishment. You inhale deeply, words spilling,

“I don’t know what to do with… with this, honestly.”

“Spend some time with him, you’ll know.”

You frown, craning to look back at him, eventually standing straight before him, “I… don’t want to.”

“Then don’t look for him,” Haz says firmly, bluntly, clearly.

He’s giving you an empty smile, his eyes icy. And it hurts your heart, hurts you knowing that he’s still having a hard time with this too. You step back, making distance,

“I’m sorry, Harrison–– I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” his eyes close, tilting his head. His perfect hair falls with his movements, “I don’t want you to pity me, just–– just let yourself be happy, or else i can’t move on.”

Woof.

That’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

And you hear it loud and clear.

You don’t know what to say, offering him a crooked smile, eyebrows pulled. You try to give him a look that looks more like understanding rather than pity.

He chuckles, a bit more genuinely this time,

“What are we going to do with you?”

You bob your head. You’re a wreck and you know it.

“Dance?”

“I dare you to dance with Tom.”

“What?No way! I can’t do that,” you look past Harrison as he spins you. That pretty boy is standing alone against the wall somewhere far off. He’s not looking in your direction now, but you could never be sure of where his eyes were mere seconds ago.

“No!”

You want to tell Harrison that you’d rather dance with him, no one else, but that would just be twisting the knife in further. Pure cruelty.

“Come on,” Harrison hugs you from behind, swaying for a moment while he presses his cheek against yours. The grain of his stubble tickles your face as he whispers into you ear,

“There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Easy for you to say, is what comes to mind. There’s PLENTY of things to worry about–– but further burdening Harrison with your troubles is just.... Unfair, and you know it.

Fuck it all.

The song ends, and Haz lets you go with a soft spin and swivel. Your shoes tap on the hardwood, as he motions for you to go. It fills you with a little bit of confidence, if you can call it that.

You make your way, looking back to see the beautiful boy already chatting up some people nearby, his perfect smile on display. There was a little ease given back to you there. A little.

The songs get slower, and it’s harder to make it out there alone.

Your stupid eyes keep trailing back to Tom leaning against the wall, glass in hand. You suck in a breath and finally waltz yourself over to him.

At least you have the element of surprise on your side, right?

“Hey.”

“Ah! H-hey!” he’s caught off guard, pushing himself off the wall to stand tall.

You fall into place next to him, looking around as you control the pace.

“You enjoying yourself?”

You’re aware of how strange this sudden exchange must be, but you’re tired of running in place. You think Tom picks up on that too as his shoulder slumps in casual ease, able to speak loosely,

“Of course, great company and an open bar. It’s a good night.”

You break into a wry smile, wondering who and where his company was. You were out there with his best friend, who was left?

That’s a little mean, haha.

“You’re not gonna go dance?”

“No one I wanna dance with out there,” he bumps his head to the music, looking out into the sea, and back at you.

You exhale, taking a small leap,

“No one for the… past few months?”

Tom fights a grin, puffing his cheeks up as he turns to you fully. His eyes scan over your face, looking for permission to be back on that cheeky shit,

“There’s only (1) person that comes to mind.”

Mmhmm.

“––Well ,a few ones. But you’re the main one, don’t worry,” he jokes with a weak smile.

That’s enough to make you laugh though, his easy teasing. You fix the strap of your dress as you smooth out the conversation with just as much tact,

“So, how have you been otherwise, busy?”

“Yeah, a little bit, and you?”

“Not busy enough,” you laugh, maybe this wasn’t so easy. The nervous energy boiled in the pit of your stomach as you kept talking, “––with work and class and stuff. It’s been slow but i’d rather be stressed. I don’t know it’s weird, being idle.”

“No, no, I get it,” Tom points his finger as he takes a drink, maintaining eye contact, “Don’t overwork yourself though.”

“Thanks.”

And the conversation stops, not flowing to the next thing like it used to.

There should be so many things to talk about, so many things to catch up on, movies, shows, life, anything! But there were still wrinkles you had to iron out, not to be forgotten.

The silence isn’t unpleasant though, though you can credit that to being at a loud and rowdy wedding. Lots of background noise and things to avert your gaze to.

“How’s Mal?” he asks outright and suddenly.

“Doin’ better,” you reply just as earnestly, “Haven’t talked to her much though, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s good. She… really worried me last week, but we left on good terms.”

Thank god.

You face him fully this time too, “I’m glad. That’s great, Tom. I’m really happy for you.”

He puts down his glass, scratching his nose to hide his face. You can see his eyes were a little watery while his brows furrowed,

“Listen, I– I gotta clear some things up with you too. If you’ll––”

You hear the loud crackle of a microphone, eyes directed towards the mass of people rushing to the dance floor. The DJ announces it’s time for the bouquet toss, people pushing beside you asking you to come join, Hands reaching out as they pass.

Uhm, hell no.

You shake your head in rejection, it may just be superstition, but you’ll take no chances. Predictions for the future made you queasy, forever waiting for those star sign events to come true. It’s limiting, in a way. Strings of people pass by you, pulling at you and Tom to join. They smelled a little too hopeful and a little too much like alcohol.

“Come on, you’re single. Just go!”

“No thanks,” you breath.

“Why, are you taken?”

“No,” you had to reply over and over.

You held still, your stomach churning for some reason. Maybe it was just having your future ~love~ predicted and dissected by a crowd of people. You just felt rushed and hot and annoyed. These festivities were meant to be fun, harmless! But you feel too conscious about it in this state.

“Want to get out of here?” Tom offers, expertly sensing your nerves, his hand already hovering over the small of your back.

“Please.”

He takes the outside and you walk along the wall, weaving through threads of people while his hand guides you. You couldn’t look at him, embarrassed about your mini-meltdown as he leads you out into an empty hall. It led to a quiet lobby.

No one was there, the only sign of use were the half-drunken booze littered across a table. There was still plenty of room to stand and talk. You lean against a marble column and look out the window. There’s meant to be a view of the city, sparkling at night, but the glare allowed you to see your reflections. Both of you stood apart and stiff.

You hug your shoulders, thinking of just moments ago, “Pushy.”

“Sorry about that,” Tom offers, leaning against the same pillar, close. “Is this alright?”

“It’s not you,” is all you can return.

You both take the moment to try to look past your own reflections to the outside world, listening to the muffled sounds of the DJ and blurry cheering. Soon enough, you push off the column stand closer to the glass, looking out and seeing clearly.

“I have to apologize for speaking on your behalf… about Mal.”

There’s a beat of silence before he comes beside you again, searching for the same view. In the faint reflection, you see his hand reach for yours and stop, stuffing his back into his pocket. He pretends he hadn’t moved at all.

“No, no, thanks for saying something. I, uhm, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

You both chuckle, looking down–– no one really knows anything. It’s contained, it’s a secret.

It’s stills something that’s only between the three of you.

And it’s all you can think about lately.

What are we now?

During this gap, you’ve spent so much time thinking about what to say, and what you would do when you get the chance to speak one on one…. But now you’re fumbling. So far, you don’t know anything about thisTom. This Tom you have seen for days, weeks, months. You don’t know what he’s being doing, how he’s doing or what he’s even thinking about–– not like before. Not like back when you could read his mind. Not like when you knew, “I’m on my way” meant “I’ll be 10 minutes late, but I’ll be there.”

There’s so little to go off of.

The boy before you wasn’t a complete stranger, but not exactly a friend either.

And you don’t know where to start with that.

You cross and uncross your arms in the dragging echo of silence.

You feel like a child, helpless. You feel like a teenager, confused. But worst of all, you felt like an adult who has no idea what the fuck to say.

It would have been comforting to know that Tom felt the same way, but you didn’t notice that. You didn’t see how his forefinger pressed into his thumb, and how he bit the inside of his cheek, navigating the same path to the truth and apology.

It would actually be a relief for someone to burst in at this moment.

But the time for peace and clarity has arrived, and you both know you shouldn’t let it go.

“I’m sorry for… kissing you the last time I saw you. The last, last time, I mean. At the party,” Tom courageously blurts, turning a frustrated red. He steps back to the column, leaning against it as he balls his hands into fists,

“That’s one the biggest… things I have to say sorry for. And… yeah, you know the rest. I just–– I know that I shouldn’t have done that. The alcohol and confusion isn’t an excuse… and yeah, it’s disgusting, I know.” He trails off, hoping that you would pick up from there. But you don’t, properly giving him time to say what he needs to,

“I–I’ve been so lost for so long, you know? Looking for someone to be with, and Mal was there. She was someone who wasn’t perfect, needed help… Someone I thought I could help. And I wanted to stick through it, but when I met you––aside from what happened between us, you taught me that I deserved better. Better than someone who wouldn’t do anything in return for all I’ve done. That that relationship isn’t… something I had to destroy myself to save,” he looks up, looking for you.

“You just… none of this is your fault and you don’t need to feel bad for any of it. For me.”

Tom laughs, shaking his head more curls and waves coming undone.

“You don’t need to be anything to me. But I’m just going to be the sap that’s still falling in love with you for a while longer.”

The laugh takes a bittersweet turn, and you can tell he wishes he were holding your hand–– anything to physically show you he means it. But you’re not sure you’re ready for that kind of direct touch just yet.

You’re just absorbing it all in. It’s been a tumultuous few months, both caught in a vicious tide. Rolling, tumbling, drowning–– and it’s not an excuse for either of you. You can’t just let things fall where they may.

“No… Tom, I have to apologize too,” you start shakily, after you hear cheers from the vibrating reception.

“For what?”

Breathe.

The past few months of getting close to Tom, getting closer and falling apart, run though your mind. And you really wonder if he thinks that you are blameless in this catastrophe.That you hadn’t seduced him or wanted him while he was promised to someone else.

That’s pretty shit of you, right?

You lick your bottom lip in a small smile, Tom always had that kind of innocence about you. The assumption that you don’t play the game, that you could never wish ill-will. He could never think that you had ever schemed against his relationship.

And you didn’t, explicitly, but….

“Tom,” you dig your heel into the ground, leaning against the window while you watch his face, “I shouldn’t have ever… tempted you–– or spent that time with you. Back then, in the beginning, you had Mal. And I walked right in between you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did, and maybe it wasn’t forcefully or with the intention of taking you away but… it was wrong of me to even try to confuse you. It was selfish and stupid.”

And it hurt everyone involved.

Whether it started with you is up for debate, but you want this cycle of hurt to end with you. Or end with the truth.

You think of Harrison and even Mal. Maybe it’s not your fault or Tom’s fault, but it’s hard to feel blameless as you assess the damage.

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, none of this would have happened and…”

Your eyes shift left and right as you wait for his reply. Tom hangs his head, rocking for a moment before coming back up to smile,

“It’s okay.”

His words hang in the air, releasing you. And something has changed, with your confessions, something has reverted back to those glossier days. He teases,

“I’m glad you confused me.”

You scrunch your nose at your words being brought back.

Tom and Mal’s relationship was rockier than either of you knew at the start, and with your intentional slash unintentional meddling, lots of things came to light, got messy and now… you’re here.

Confused.

Far from the start, but still just as lost.

Tom’s brows raise and soften as he watches your heart on your sleeve,

“I…. I know there’s still a lot to think about but… I gotta say that I’m so happy that you’re still here talking to me.”

You have to laugh, one that you can’t swallow and pretend. You rub the corner of your eye, and muse,

“I’m not that cold, Tom.”

But you had been, and he knew he deserved it.

And while time has not swept away all the hurt, the path seemed a little bit clearer.

There were still some things you couldn’t deny.

“Hey... You know what?”

He hums in response, kicking off the column to come stand beside you again. You could see the pretty wrinkles on the side of his mouth deepen as he breathes into a smile.

You start,

“Despite this mess, I’m glad I got to know you. At all.”

His dark eyes widen as he takes it in, the future still in question. His pale hands yearns to reach out to you, and even with this new confidence he is wary of rejection. Instead he cuts through the still and get straight to it,

“What does that mean?”

You felt caught off guard at his parry, but your answer comes out all on its own.

“It means that, I’ve liked you, Tom. and––”

And?

“I don’t completely want you out of my life.”

You find yourself smiling as you tuck your chin back in embarrassment. That sounded an awful lot like you still felt That Way about him. You shut your eyes and sigh, shaking your head a little bit.

“Not completely?” he repeats, egging you on for more. He leans close to you, making his way back to your heart.

You chuckle under your breath.

“Let’s start over.”

Tom’s brows harden.

You stretch out your hand towards him, which he cautiously accepts as you put out the flames.

“As friends.”

There’s another loud round of applause that echoes through the hall. Shouts and whistles bleed out to the lobby.

“As friends,” he murmurs.

You shake firmly, avoiding his eyes as your hands fall back to your sides. You turn your cheek to face away from him and suggest,

“Let’s get back in, yeah?”

You don’t want him to see the strange, flustered, excited, happy expression drawn so obviously on your face.

“Let’s,” Tom agrees easily.

His hand smoothes over the small of your back, in a brave and bold little show of camaraderie.

Let’s start off as friends.

You smile stiffly, because you don’t want him to know that your heart is pounding like it used to.

That it would be too easy to melt back into that old mold.

Let’s just see where we go from there.

-

As with all romantic dramedies, you enter the party together with no resolution or closure to your prior conversation. And once again, you are immediately swept away into the tide.

You lose each other for a moment, following the flow of people and conversation.  But this time, you find your way back to one another, willingly.

Tom stands tall by your side, instead of cowering away, and you roll your shoulders back with inviting poise. You feel at ease and he smiles warmly.

That’s not to write off the unbelievable and undeniable tension stretching in the small gap between your shoulders. It’s TOO real.

Your hand had bumped his once, and you both jump back and fumble over hurried apologies.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good.”

And it’s back to standing still but not too still. You both manage to relax with your favorite blonde slash brunette makes his way, and stands in between. He’s throws his arms over both of you, drunken weight pulling down as he sways.

You laugh at the rumple in his collar, fixing it while berating him for still being so drunk at the end of the night. Harrison waves the hand on your side and twirls a finger in the air,

“Indulge a little.”

The celebration nears the end as the lights dim and people start making two lines by the exit, standing together holding party poppers to burst over the grooms in the grand finale. A parting gift of glitter and petals and kisses.

Tom has placed Harrison in a chair by the wall, both of you standing nearby. You both snicker  as he rubs his eyes and checks his phone, undoubtedly texting you both.

Facing forward, you hold the small device in your hands as you wait together, scraping to make small talk. Your voice startles him.

“You know, Z is coming back in a week.”

Tom’s eyes widen, looking at you with genuine surprise. He nods, looking for more,

“Oh, for real? Does she want––” His eyes dart from side to side, thinking of his next words carefully.

You finish it for him.

“She wants to see you. And uh-oh, biiiiig trouble.”

“Oh,” he pulls an exaggerated face, tugging at his collar.

“Not all bad trouble. But–– you know, it could help your case if you could help us with the move. Uhm, If I could trouble you with that.”

Tom smiles wide, his eyes crinkling near shut as he looks down. This is your arm stretched out towards him, offering a path back to where he wants to be. But it’s just a feeler, if anything at all.

“Yeah, of course, I’d love to.”

You giggle, shaking your head. No one wants to help anyone with a move, dummy. God, you don’t want to take advantage of his feelings but–– he does have a car and some apologies he wanted to make. Haha, it’s nothing malicious! You could just use the help.

“I can bring Haz and Jacob too, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I don’t have that much shit.”

“Just Harrison then?”

Your eyes scan over him, wondering if he was worried about spending time in the same place as 3 women who were, arguably, after his throat. You really can’t blame him for looking for some protection.

You offer your sympathy with a edging smile, “Yeah, bring the drunkard with you. He’ll be a lot of help, yeah?”

You both turn back to look at him, squinting into the crowd. You laugh as he finally finds you, and offer him a little wave. You turn to Tom to see if he was waving too, but he wasn’t.

His face is close, and tilted towards you. You could see those freckles you missed so much, and the brow you’ve always wanted to tame. You could smell that faint boyish cologne that always reminded you of home––

“Oh! Here they come!” Tom interrupts, his whole face perking up animatedly. His smile is so wide and true, leaving you in a daze and you turn back to the grooms.

They make their way through the lines, dressed in white, only to be covered in glitter and streamers and petals.

You squeal in excitement, screaming congratulations as you pull the string and feel the pop in your bones. Tom is whistling and howling beside you, a cheeky hand making its way across your back.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you watch the new couple pass.

Hey.

They disappear into night, as the crowd collapses into one. You hear stray pops and fizzles, delayed responses but none to go to waste. The flurry of confetti is dense and never ending, feeling like a stubborn snow flurry in the early spring.

You lean into the warm palm into your back, and spin to find it’s owner.

Through falling flowers, muted music and passing bodies, you turn back to Tom.

Lovely Tom.

And he’s found you too, hair tousled just right and lips a rosy pink.

Picture perfect and sugary sweet.

“Hey, you.”

Your back is still blooming with warmth even after his hand falls away.

“Hey.”

Before the flurry ends, he’s pulled you aside to avoid the bustling of people making their exit. The dim light and soft rustling makes you feel small and lonely, yearning to be held again.

Your eyes shift towards Harrison, coming up from his seat and taking a video of the falling flowers. You blink back into your body.

Straightening yourself out, you tuck hair behind your ear, making rogue petals fall out onto the floor. You and Tom laugh, as he brushes his shoulders off and shakes his blazer.

You’re shaking off your dress as Harrison comes up, and Tom speaks low,

“Can I give you a ride home?”

Oh, the night’s not over.

You look at Haz, still in and out of his coordination and seeing that he was your ride… you agree. You walk with the pair of boys clinging to each other into the warm night and softly bump into Tom’s shoulder.

“Did you plan for this?”

He raises his brows to give you a smug smile,

“Nope, only hoped.”

You roll your eyes as you get into Harrison’s car–– Tom must have gotten a Lyft or something. Harrison surrendered his keys and quickly settled into his seat up front. He dozes off quickly, dropping his phone and making no reaction.

Tom snickers as you take a picture of the blonde sweetie, sitting back to type on your phone.

He plays some whatever late night radio music, and it’s quiet in the car but it’s not so bad. It’s comfortable.

You don’t feel the pressure to talk after all the talking you had already done.

You focus on picking off flowers that have gotten into precarious places, and rub the glitter off your skin. You seethe,

“These better be biodegradable.”

And Tom laughs, glitter and paper confetti falling out of his hair.

He takes you home on familiar dips and turn, getting back to your apartment in no time. You almost forgot about your roommate for a moment too––

He parks to the side and as you gather your things he runs out to get the door for you, making you blow up at your hair. You take the hand he offers as you step out,

“Thank you, thank you. That’ll be all.”

You start to walk to the front door, realizing Tom is following you after the car door shuts and you hear his hurried steps. You look at him, lips pressed to avoid a smile. He shrugs,

“Just want to make sure you get inside.”

You both look towards the door, only a short distance away. And reconvene with those dark browns, curious to see what could happen next.

He understands that there’s still a line, still a few things to settle. And you appreciate that–– except for the fact that your insides are buzzing to take him in, to watching something dumb or to catch up or to drink drinks or to just to have him on your couch again.

But it can’t be tonight.

You climb up a few steps, making yourself a lot taller than him, and lick your lips,

“”Thank you, Tom. Uhm, it was nice talking to you again.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he scratches the side of his neck, “This eases some of my worries.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you say softly leaning back.

“But I want to.”

You shake your head, throwing your shoulders up as you laugh,

“Stay worried then!”

Tom pouts, slapping his arms at his side in defense, and you only rub your nose.

“Thanks,” he sarcastically nods, continuing the banter. He wants to spend more time with you too, to wrap himself in that fuzzy gray blanket and tell you how much you meant and mean to him. But he rocks back on his heels, trying to get away from your sweet scent and away from the sweet licks of temptation.

Let’s not make the same mistakes twice, yeah?

“Text me when you make it back, okay? Tell Harrison to too,” you conclude, stepping on the brakes.

He smiles a little too wide at the permission you just gave him, and you only realize it a second after. Then the lines of communication were open again, that this is something you will really move forward with–– and as Tom bows his head to hide his ecstatic grin, you catch sight of a stray white petal knotted in his locks.

“Hold on!”

You reach forward instinctively, and he keeps his head lowered. You hold the side of his head with one hand, the bottom of your palm smoothing across his forehead and the other plucking the petal from a nest of gel,

“Got it.”

And he looks up then, with no warning. You hand frozen in place, and ultimately cupping his cheek. Your thumb presses against the corner of his lip, pressed in a gorgeous and heartbreaking smile.

You manage to speak, “Look, silly.”

Your hand shakes as you show him the white petal between your faces, and he defiantly looks past it and straight at you.

“You can keep that,” he whispers, making your hair stand on end.

And it’s funny because your arm lowers, and your hand slides off his burning cheek onto his chest. You smooth down his lapel and hold his gaze before you let your hand fall back to your side. You wished nothing more than to tumble forward, to collapse back into his arms. To embrace him wholly, for him to embrace you back.

To forget the stupid messes made and fall in love with the sweetness again.

“I will.”

There’s still a trust to be earned, a new recipe to follow. Proper ingredients, real sugar and in the end, it’s still gotta taste good too.

But, oh, what would wouldn't do to kiss him again.

To take a bite of that sweet chocolate.

“I’ll see you soon, Tom.”

I wonder what it would taste like now?

-

-

-

A/N: …… FINALLY. OH MY GOD. it’s been like what, 6 months? Since December? This series took a hard hit because of my birthday and holidays and tumblr banning blogs left and right. I’m glad to return to it, and fucking… END it. Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck around, remembered this series and asked for updates! This is for you.

If you can, please like, comment and reblog. I want all of those who have been waiting for this to see the end! Maybe like 2-3 more chapters left?

And i’ll let you know when i can update next. The next one won’t be as long, so maybe i can get it out in a week or two?

Track #LDC or #Like Dark Chocolate to see the updates!

Again, thank you so much and i love you guys! See you very soon.

Peace,

Madmadmilk

[logicalbookthief]

76 on the prompt list :>>> excited to see what u come up w/

Anon, your faith in me was truly misguided. I saw this prompt and went, “ooh, ok, let’s do some heartfelt angst,” and then as I started that my brain went, “nah, this instead.”

And by this, I mean “domestic & married Reddie being gross and in love and having a drama queen for a kid”

*

*

Prompt: 76 – “It could be worse. They could be dating.” “Wait. They are?!”

Summary: “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?!” Eddie says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.

*

*

Richie kicks the door closed with his foot, already slipping it halfway out of his shoe. He dumps his duffel on the floor, which Eddie’ll chide him for later. That’s a problem for future Richie, not present Richie, who’s running on pure caffeine after his non-stop flight from Atlanta to LA.

The distant thump of 80s music lures him to the kitchen. Eddie’s humming along to the radio as he rinses lettuce for one of his seasonal salads. Richie would bet his life it includes pine nuts. 

Padding quietly across the hardwood, Richie warps his arms around his husband from behind. “Honey, I’m home!”

Eddie jolts, relaxing the minute he feels the frame of Richie’s glasses against his head. “Jesus,” he sighs, dropping to a whisper. “Jack, what’re you doing, you know my husband’s coming home today!”

“Jack?!” Richie squawks, twisting him around by the lapels. “As in, our mailman?”

“Oh, whoops,” Eddie feigns shock, the facade lasting all of a second before he throws his arms around Richie’s neck, swooping in for a kiss. 

Richie moans, a little satisfied hum against Eddie’s lips. “Where’s my other sweetheart?”

His husband adjusts his shirt where it’s riding up, due to his Richie’s wandering hands. “Moping,” he explains, delicately.

“She’s seven. What does she have to mope about?” Richie deadpans. His mouth twists into a grimace. “Wait. Are you trying the tuna casserole recipe again?”

Eddie whips around. “What the fuck’s wrong with my–?”

“Nothing!” he answers quickly. Eddie narrows his eyes, wielding the salad-spinner like he wants to use it on something besides leafy greens. “So what’s eating my little Spaghetti-o?”

“Mrs. Diaz separated her from her cubby-buddy, Jonas,” Eddie informs, eyebrows rocketing to his hairline. “Apparently they were too disruptive as a pair.”

“Jonas? Isn’t that the nose-picker?” He regrets this observation as Eddie gags over the croutons. 

Everyone has a thing, a thing that trips the gag reflex. Many things bring out that response in Eddie, yet none so viscerally as his aversion to snot, boogers, and the like. Ever since they were kids, it was the surefire way to make him heave. Even if the snot in question was connected to their child.

So when it came to boogers, Richie was the go-to parent, while Eddie graciously agreed to handle the diaper meltdowns. After all, the key to a successful marriage is compromise. Compromise, and lots of Clorox wipes. 

At the school’s Christmas pageant last year, the boy standing next to Nina started digging for gold halfway through Twelve Days of Christmas and found a nugget before they hit two turtle-doves. Poor Eds nearly hurled in Richie’s lap. 

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie shudders. “Anyway, she’s heartbroken over it. As soon as we got home she ran to her room. I tried to talk to her when I brought her a snack and she asked me to please give her time.”

Richie imagines that coming out of his seven-year-old’s mouth and snorts. “Sorry,” he adds. “Not funny.”

Eddie ducks his chin to hide his smile. “Even for her, it’s a tad overdramatic,” he admits, glancing up at Richie through his lashes. “I didn’t have the heart to pester her, but, maybe since you’re home…”

“I’m on it!” Richie stretches the lingering kinks out of his neck. “I’m a world-famous comedian back from a sold-out show. Cheering our daughter up should be a cinch.”

“Mhm,” Eddie intones, not sounding very confident. Which, rude. He seems rather distracted by the length of Richie’s biceps as they stretch over his head. His eyes gleam with an anticipation that has nothing to do with salad. Richie’s got the same itch crawling beneath his skin and he’s very eager to scratch it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and the dick grow harder. 

His knocks at Nina’s room are ignored, so Richie gently pushes the door open to peer inside. At the sight of his daughter curled up on the bed, he breaks into a smile.

“Eyyy, there’s my girl!” 

Nina raises her head from the pillow, uttering a curt, “Hi, Dad.”

Well, that’s far less enthusiasm than he was expecting. Considering he was gone for almost a week. Nothing like a child’s indifference to keep you humble.

“Aww, sweetie, what’s wrong?” His ears perk at the soft croon of Whitney Houston in the background. “And … what the heck are you listening to?”

“Playlist,” she mutters, blindly flinging an arm toward her device. She’s got it open to his Spotify. 

Richie should probably delete the app from her tablet, like, yesterday. If she ever stumbles across his “Songs to fuck Eddie to” playlist he’ll have to commit samurai-suicide.

However. Given this playlist is called “Sad love songs to cry into your Chipotle burrito,” Richie has a better idea of what type of crisis he’s dealing with here. 

“Sooo, uh. Your daddy told me. You and Jonas, you two are…?” He winces at her lip-tremble, which confirms his worst suspicions. “That’s rough, kiddo.”

“I’ll never be happy again,” Nina sniffs miserably. “I love Jonas and now we’ll never see each other!”

“You are still in the same class,” Richie points out.

She whirls on him, eyes flashing lividly.

“We sit by last names! His is at the beginning, mine’s at the end!” With more venom than a child should be capable of, she hisses, “I hate the alphabet.” 

“O-Kay,” says Richie, truly at a loss. Luckily, she doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it anymore. Instead she stuffs her face back in the pillow, not quite fluffy enough to absorb her lovelorn sigh.

He pets her hair, curling it around his fingers, until the sniffles eventually dwindle. “Do you want us to make you a special dinner? Anything you want,” Richie cajoles.

Nina thinks it over, tilting her cheek enough to say, “Can you ask Daddy to make tuna casserole?”

Richie blanches. “Wha– Why?”

“I want my belly to feel as bad as my heart,” she mumbles.

He manages to keep a straight face as he bends to kiss her brow and leaves her to sulk, but it’s a close call. When he reports back to the kitchen with his news, there’s no tact necessary.

Eddie laughs ‘til he’s out of breath. “It isn’t funny,” he repeats, slightly winded.

“Of course not,” Richie agrees, failing to stifle his own grin.

“I love her, I’m sorry she’s hurting, but she’s so–”

“Theatric?”

“She gets that from you,” Eddie accuses.

“Excuse a moi?” Richie balks. “This, coming from the guy who kissed me out of the deadlights like some low-budget horror rebut of Sleeping Beauty?”

“What, should I have let the clown eat you?” Eddie glances his way, slyly. “I was referring to middle school. When you spent an entire night cranking your mom’s Bonnie Tyler records because I said you kind of looked like a frog, and you remembered how three weeks ago I told Bev I’d never kiss a frog even if it turned into a handsome prince?”

“Fucking Stanley,”  Richie huffs. “I swore him to secrecy. We spit on it and everything.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “At least for Nina, it’s only a crush. It could be worse,” he scoffs. “They could be dating.”

Richie tries to school his expression, he does, but – the thing is. After spending almost their whole fucking lives together, minus those twenty-two years of amnesia in between, Eddie can spot his tells from a mile away.

“Wait. They are?!” He slaps a hand over his mouth, aghast. “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?”

He says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.

“Ugh, Rich, that–ew! What if they hold hands after h–he–”

The suggestion of it alone has Eddie bending over the sink.

“Babe, c’mon.” Richie soothes a palm up-and-down his spine. “You’ve drilled the importance of hand-washing into Nina since she could walk. I doubt she’s carrying around any clingers.”

On cue, Eddie lets loose another dry heave.

“Will you stop?” he groans, glaring over his shoulder at Richie. “This is awful. Literally, of all the kids in her class, why this one?” 

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” says Richie, though Eddie’s eyebrows beg to differ. He loves his husband, deeply, irrevocably, but he’s also one of most ridiculous people on the planet. “Remember, we like Jonas? Jonas is nice! If a little unsanitary… He’ll grow out of it, though. Like I did.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain can flash any of the red warning signs. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eddie turns. They lock eyes. His gaze brims with the horror of this realization.

“Are you saying,” Eddie begins, dangerously low, “that you used to pick your nose when we were kids a-and then, you’d touch me?”

“Used to?” Richie grabs the fleeing Eddie and hauls him back before he really does leave him for their incredibly buff mailman.

“Babe!” he chuckles. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I swear! I swear on Ben’s chiseled abs!”

“Disgusting, you’re disgusting,” Eddie grumbles, wriggling in his grasp. “Let go of me, don’t even think of touching me with–”

All of a sudden, Eddie squeals, wracked with a full-bodied spasm.

“With what?” Richie taunts, continuing to tickle him. “With these filthy, boogery fingers of mine?”

“St–op!” Eddie wheezes. “I’m gonna piss my pants!”

“Don’t exploit my pee kink,” he snaps, which only makes Eddie wheeze harder.

“I’ve had my fingers in your ass,” Richie reminds. “In fact, you love my fingers in your ass.”

Whether from embarrassment or exertion, Eddie flushes. “Fuck you, that’s extremely different!”

“You’re right, it’s probably more disgusting.” Teeth skirting over his earlobe, Richie leans down, his voice a sultry hush, “Because I like to use my mouth there, too.”

Eddie muffles a moan into his fist. “I see what you’re doing,” he grits out. “And it won’t work. No way I’m sleeping with you now, nose-picker.”

Richie makes a wounded noise, clutching him more firmly to his chest. “Please, Eds, baby, I can change! I’ll go to meetings, therapy– I’ll never stick my finger anywhere you don’t want again!”

“I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same.” Eddie’s reply cuts off into a giggle as those fingers attack his flank. “Seriously, Rich, I am going to–!” 

They’re interrupted by the violent swing of Nina’s door against the wall.

“Will you two keep it down?!” she shouts. “I’m trying to mourn!”

The door slams shut again. They gawk at each other in silence. Finally, Richie pools enough blood into his brain to speak.

“Are we terrible parents?”

Eddie kisses the underside of his chin. “Ask me that when your semi isn’t plastered against my ass,” he says, flatly.

*

*

@trashmouth_tozier

Hi my name is Richie and I’m a recovering nose-picker. Ages 3 thru 9 were rough, but with the support of my dear husband, I’ve managed to keep my fingers clean. Hope my story can help inspire someone else xx

*

*

Bev: why did Eddie ask for the number of my divorce lawyer ?

Bev: nvm I saw your tweet

*

*

Am I projecting my own snot-induced gag reflex onto Eddie? Yes. Do I still believe my characterization was spot-on? Yes again.  

[lavendertwilight89]

Ooh! Inukag #70, please: "After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

Almost 5k words later... I give you your lovely answer!

**Contains smut** ;)

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

“Inuyasha…”

Inuyasha turned to face Kagome. She had been badly injured in their recent battle with Naraku. It had been all his fault. He left her with Sango and Miroku as it appeared Kikyo was falling… The fucking bastard Byakuya of the dreams created an illusion. He didn’t trust his nose and immediately made Kagome go with Sango and Miroku. When he leapt off and jumped to catch the fake Kikyo he heard a scream—he swore time slowed as he watched Naraku’s tentacles ensnare Kirara who had been slowed down by Kagome’s added weight and caused the others to fall to the ground. Sango was able to save herself and Miroku, but they lost their grip on Kagome as they hung off the cliff; she fell down the cliff into the river. She had bumped her head, twisted her ankle, dislocated her shoulder… Inuyasha counted his blessings she had taught him that “C-P-R” shit and was able to get the water out of her lungs.

Sango and Miroku had been able to chase off Naraku’s puppet and Byakuya then had met them down river. They had been uncomfortable by the situation of decided to go back to the village to “check on Shippo” while Inuyasha took Kagome to the spare hut at the village’s edge to have her rest away from prying eyes and ears. But he forgot how hard it would be to face her. He let her down. Big time. She could have been killed for something so simple and reckless… because of his weakness.

He cared about Kikyo. She would always hold a place in his heart. He blamed himself for her death, while the full blame was on Naraku, his lack of ability to trust anyone was what made her meet her demise and his sealing. He owed Kikyo the peace she deserved. But that drive always made him brainless and irrational. This time it almost cost Kagome her life!

Kagome… The girl who taught him how to trust. Fully. The girl who taught him how to make friends. The girl who had never been afraid of him or looked him differently. The girl who taught him what love actually was… How could he have been so stupid?! He could have lost the woman who actually held his heart! The one who, when all this was over, he wanted to ask to be with him. Forever. Literally. To have her become his mate…

Like hell that was going to happen after that. How could she ever forgive him? How could he ever forgive himself? He should’ve just sent her back to her own time and made sure there had been no way for her to return.

“Inuyasha!”

He was snapped back into reality as Kagome had managed to sit up and pulled on his forelocks harshly.

“Watch it, Wench! Lay back down you’re hurt! You’re only gonna reinjure yourself, ya moron!”

“Oh relax, we already popped my shoulder back in and yes, it’s tender but it’s fine! My ankle is wrapped, pain pills have been taken, and my head is fine! I honestly didn’t hit it that hard, I swear! You were the one staring out into space all depressed and self-loathing! I needed to snap you out of your funk before you went all ‘go-back-to-your-own-time’ on me,” Kagome said in a poor imitation of him.

He stared at in disbelief. How in the fuck did she know exactly what he had been thinking?

“I’ve known you long enough to know what’s going around in your head by now, Inuyasha. Stop blaming yourself for what happened. It was a series of bad circumstances…”

“Bad circumstances?!?! Kagome, how have you lost your mind?! You could have been killed because of my thoughtless actions!! How are you not upset?? Not saying I want you to ‘Sit’ me, but how come you haven’t? You should be furious with me!”

“Inuyasha, we both know what Naraku is capable of at this point. We both know this was part of his plan—to divide us. Yes, I was upset you made me stay back with Sango—but you were trying to keep me out of danger while you rushed to save Kikyo. Yes, I unfortunately got hurt, but it wasn’t your fault. It was Naraku’s. You have to stop blaming yourself for his actions!”

“Kagome, I just don’t understand how you can keep forgiving me and why you bother sticking around me… I’m not a good friend to you, I’m… no good for you…” he trailed off. He would never be able to tell her how he felt. She deserved better. Maybe Koga had been right. Or that Hobo-kid in her time. She couldn’t ever love someone as useless, dirty, and stupid as him. She could only ever offer him her friendship, which he was fine with—whatever she wanted, he would’ve give her… Even if she had ever told him she wanted to remain in her time, he loved her enough to let her…

“Inuyasha—”

“No! Listen here, Wench! You know damn well you shouldn’t stay here with me. Travel with me! It literally is a death sentence. You should hate me! Just like everyone else does! Because I literally—”

“Inuyasha!!! Would you cut it out!? How could I ever hate you??”

“Kagome, don’t be stupid. You know exactly why you should. Think of all the stupid, asshole things I’ve done, and you so crazily forgiven me for. This should be the final straw. You should be demanding me to take you home and to never let me see you again…”

She cupped his face and drew him out of his rant of him trying to make her realize he was no good for her and the look on her face stopped his words from forming.

“After everything, and I mean everything—the bad, the good—we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

He was speechless. What could he say? How was someone supposed to respond to that? She couldn’t mean that as more than a friend. No way. She wasn’t crazy. She couldn’t possibly feel like—like—like that towards him… He couldn’t help but yearn for it though. He also couldn’t stop himself as he leaned into her touch.

“Kagome, I don’t deserve your friendship…”

“Of course you do, Inuyasha…” she said sadly. Dejected. Her smile reflected the way she said those words. What could have made her say it like that? Didn’t she just say she cared about him?

“Why…why do you say it… like that? Do you regret us being friends?”

“Ugh, Inuyasha… you’re so dense…”

“What?! Wench—”

She leaned in and kissed him. On the lips. Not the cheek. HO.LY. SHIT. She. Was. Kissing. Him. Not like this had been the first time, but it was the first time with him not going crazy in full demon form. Where he could return it—shit! He needed to kiss her back! Before she pulled away like last time.

As his lips returned the pressure onto her, she pulled away. Damnit!

“I-I’m sorry! I-I just—Uhmmm…” His apparent gaping face made her keep stuttering, “I’m so sorry, Inuyasha! I—I didn’t know how else to uhm, literally, show you how I felt. I—How could I ever regret us being friends?? You’ve changed my life… You’ve been my best friend for three years. You’ve protected me, made me feel important and special. You made me realize how much more there is to the world than just school and my future… You made me grow up. I don’t regret ever meeting you or falling in love with you. I-I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know you don’t feel the same for me… I understand your obligations to Kikyo and I plan to support you in anyway I can. You will always have a choice…I just want to be by you side…please… Don’t make me leave you!”

He was stunned. Firstly, he hadn’t expected such a heart-felt confession from her let alone that she was still willing to even be by his side thinking he would pick Kikyo over her…

She was stupid to even think that—there was never a future with Kikyo. There wouldn’t have even been a future with Kikyo at this point even if she remained in her clay-body or miraculously was revived… Kagome loved him unconditionally with all she had. She never expected him to change and took him exactly as the rude half-demon he was… He literally had no clue what love meant before Kagome. He never knew what love was at all before he laid eyes on this mysterious girl from the future.

He cupped her cheeks and gazed into her eyes. Fuck, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to be with her. Fully. She confessed to him—it was his turn to own up.

“Kagome… Don’t—Don’t be sorry. I—”

He couldn’t find the words (fuck!) and began to get flustered, frustrated, and started growling in annoyance. She blushed and took her lip in her teeth and that’s when he lost it. He pulled her face back to his and kissed her roughly. Demandingly. He tried to convey the words he couldn’t come up with into the kiss. She seemed like she understood as she eagerly returned the kiss.

He tentatively brushed his tongue across her lips causing her to gasp. He took that opportunity to push it further and explore her mouth. God, she tasted better than he had ever imagined. She was sweet like candy. He wanted to get to know her more. She lightly stroked her tongue against his fangs causing him to groan in excitement. After a few minutes of exploring each other mouths, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. They were both gasping for air and flushed.

“Inu-Inuyasha…”

“Kagome… I want you. Not Kikyo. You. I’ve wanted you since you convinced me to go help the old hag retrieve Kikyo’s remains. But you were young, and not ready… I know I’m the shittiest guy out there, pushing you away, insulting you, confusing you… but I couldn’t let myself get close to you. I… I never thought you would return my feelings…” As he spoke her eyes brightened and shined with unshed tears so he pressed on. “I—I had planned on asking you… when this was all over if you would be my mate.”

Kagome gasped, “Really? You mean that??”

“Do you… know what that means?”

“Uhm,” she blushed and looked away from his curious eyes. “Sa-Sango told me one day…”

She clearly didn’t want to elaborate how and why the demon slayer made mention of mates but obviously it had to do with him and his ‘courting’ behaviors he had started. He had known the mission would be over soon and needed to ensure he could prove himself. She seemed confused and even though it sounded like Sango had tried to explain his actions, she clearly hadn’t believed the slayer or still didn’t understand.

“Is that something you’d consider?”

“Inuyasha…” she looked back into his face and placed her hands on his neck and gently pulled so their lips were barely apart. “I have never wanted anything more… I want to be with you; always. You are my home… Please…”

He swallowed having smelled her high rise in arousal, “This… this isn’t something you can go back on Kagome. You-You should really think about it. You’re also hurt we shouldn’t—”

“I know what I want Inuyasha. I’ve wanted it since I begged you the first time to let me stay by you side. I know what ‘forever’ means. If it’s with you, it still won’t be long enough. Now, stop talking,” she closed the gap between them and restarted their heated kissing.

He literally couldn’t think. Her hands pulled at his robes and he released her face she should push them off his shoulders. She had meant business. Was she afraid he’d change his mind?

“Ka-Kagome—” he pulled away once again and held her by her shoulders at arm’s length. He wanted her to be sure; he didn’t want her to feel pressured. “We-We can wait. We don’t have to rush this. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Grrrrr!! Inuyasha—three years may seem like nothing to you, but they were a long time for me. I want you. I’ve wanted you in this way for the past year or so… Yes, when I was fifteen it would have been impulsive. Sixteen, rushed. Seventeen? It wouldn’t have hurt to wait. Eighteen?? Inuyasha, please, I’m not a child in my own era, don’t treat me like I don’t understand what I’m asking of you. I know all about what happens with a man and woman. Plenty of girls at my school have shared more than enough information to even make Miroku blush… I know this is what I want. I want you! Now and forever. I know inuyoukai mate for life. I know there is no going back after we do this. But I love you, and I don’t ever want to try or think about us seeing anyone else! Now, please!”

Ok. That shut him up for good. He pulled her back wrapping his hands around her waist and head and reengaged in their fierce war of tongues. He tentatively reached from behind her the ties of her yukata she had changed into while her clothes were drying. He may have had her permission, but he was still nervous. She grasped his hand and led it to the tie having had felt his tremorous hand. He undid the knot but did not pull her robe open. Nope. He was going to allow her to do that. Wait, how had she untied his obi? Shittttttttttt her hand had begun stroking him. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Holy damnit all the helllllllllllll. He grasped her hand pulling it away to stop. She made a whine of disapproval which caused him to chuckle once he controlled his yearning groan.

“You keep doing that, I won’t last Ka-Go-Me.”

He decided against his previous decision in an act to distract her to open her yukata as his mouth moved down her jaw to her neck and shoulder. She moaned and clutched his back, head tilted to the side as an act of submission. He licked the junction of her neck and shoulder.

“This is where I will mark you. As mine.”

She swallowed and yet again, her hands had somehow disappeared from his senses and began to stoke his ears. She was trying to kill him. She would be the death of him. He did NOT purr, as she had called it, but growled in a repetitive lull as he continued to move down and then caught her left breast in his mouth. She arched herself more into him and moaned in pleasure. He took his hand and tentatively brought it between them and stroked along her folds which caused her to gasp and cry out. Oh, she was sensitive. His little future priestess had never been touched by anyone than him and his inner demon loved it.

He lowered her down to futon and then attacked her other breast with the same diligence as he had the left. He figuratively was fed by her moans and groans of pleasure as he kept at his mission. He wanted to prove and give her all the love and care she had ever given him. While he had never been with a woman before, his instincts knew what to do, and whenever they were blank as far as “where she would like to be touched ”, he knew from being around for as long as he had been, how a woman’s body could be pleasured. Men always bragged (especially Miroku; no matter how much Inuyasha had tried to get him to shut the hell up) how they were able to conquer a woman and the ego-boost that it had been for them to have been able to bring that woman to their peak. And he swore while he would never divulge where he learned those things if she asked, but he would make it a point that she would too blissed to ever need to.

He slowly moved himself lower exploring her ribs and her stomach causing her to hitch her breath. Her hands found his ears again after having explored his abs and started stroking them. He finally had made his way between her legs and softly pushed her legs apart for himself. FUCK. She smelled one-hundred times sexier than he could have ever imagined. Her taste, her smell, her touch—this was beyond anything he could have ever dreamed of in his tiny size brains—he swore he had to be dreaming though. But he didn’t want to stop and test that theory. He was hungry for her. And he was going to take her.

He started licking her gently between her folds after she questioningly stuttered his name, probably from embarrassment or confusion from his staring and lingering thoughts. He couldn’t tell. Nor did he really care. He wanted to bring her to her climax before he had to cause her discomfort when they went further (if she still wanted to). He wasn’t going to push her and wanted to be extra certain before they went any farther.

She gasped and mewled as he increased the pressure, making circles, paying attention to her opening and her little nub as those seemed to be the places that made her make those sweet arousing sounds the most. She released his ears (thank the Gods) and gripped his head, trying to pull his closer to that nub. Her wish would be his command. He started to focus his ministrations on that spot, but still wouldn’t give her fully what she wanted. He wanted to make this the best she ever had. He wasn’t a fool, nor did her scent lie; he knew she had ‘relieved’ herself in her room back at her home before. He wasn’t sure what had caused her arousal but knew it was ‘private’ and didn’t pry… Though the thought of her lusting after another about drove him insane with jealously. One of the many reasons he demanded they return to the past as soon as they could. Knowing it was him though—and it had only been him to invoke that need to pleasure herself away from him at that moment only drove him crazier. Her pants and broken syllables of his name was what finally made him clamp down and suck on her swollen gem. Her legs squeezed his head and her hands clamped down in his hair as she screamed her release. Her opening grew wetter and wetter which took everything in his power to not reclean her core; he wanted the wetness so that there would be less resistance if she wanted to keep going. He really prayed she did. He had never been so hard in his life—when he heard her scream his name like that—it took all his self-control not to just fucking maul her.

He brought himself back up to her face and kissed her back from her stupor, her hands rewrapped around his neck her legs encircled themselves around his hips. He groaned by the sensation of her wet weeping core on his length.

“Ka-Kagome… Are you sure?”

“Please…” She looked at him so lovingly. Her face red from exertion, glistening in sweat from pleasure, hair disheveled—Gods she had never looked more beautiful than she had in that moment—staring up at him with the gorgeous brown orbs. He retook those pink lips with his own before he positioned himself at her opening and slowly edged his way in. She was tight, but there wasn’t a lot of resistance as he sank into her. He watched her face for discomfort but only saw her gaze longingly back at him, stroking his cheek with one hand while the other was on his shoulder. He was finally fully sheathed inside her but remained still to let her adjust. They couldn’t have fit more perfectly together. While he had been nervous about hurting her, he was happy her face never shifted t discomfort. He luckily knew from rumors women who had actually been through a lot physically could have lost their walls previous to actually having sex. His inner demon purred and started to rise slightly to the surface—hungry for more.

Kagome bucked her hips snapping him out of his inner monologue with himself and moaned dipped his head into her shoulder licking her junction again where he planned on marking her.

“You can move, Inuyasha.”

“Kagome I…” I love you.

“I know, Inuyasha,” she said as she lovingly brushed through his hair.

He began to slide out and then thrust back into her slowly to check for any lingering pain, but her gasp and moans egged him on to move faster. He knew he wouldn’t last long. She already spoiled him. He wouldn’t ever be able to go back to his hand after this. She felt amazing. Wet, warm, like home… She was everything he was missing out on life. She was everything he ever needed. She was everything he had ever wanted. And she had become in that moment, his.

He didn’t realize his demon had emerged until Kagome brushed a hand up to his cheek and said his name questioningly. He knew she had been touching the purple marks she told him about that appeared on his face in this form. But he had been fully aware and her leaned down to nuzzle her cheek and pulled her by her shoulders to straddle his kneeling legs. His hands were on her hips still thrusting her up and down onto himself. Her breath quickened and she rested her hands on his shoulders to keep her stabilized while her cries grew louder. His name on her lips broke more and more with every thrust downward onto his hardened length. He felt her walls start to clench and knew she was just as close as he was. He wanted them to finish at the same time if not her before him. He took one of her hands off his shoulder and guided it between them which caused her to open her eyes questioningly and blush harder than she already was from their activities.

“Touch yourself.” His voice was rough and deeper, but she didn’t flinch or react. She obeyed without second thought and brought her lips to his again. How did he get so lucky? To have had someone who would’ve loved him in any form he took? He had to be the luckiest bastard who ever lived.

She stopped kissing him and cried out again, her walls clamped down on him rhythmically, trying to milk him which he couldn’t help but almost succumb to immediately—but he had to finish the mating process. He bit his tongue and then leaned down to Kagome neck and then bit down allowing his demonic aura to fill her. She whimpered but stayed still and took it in. Her own spiritual powers wrapped around him in return. Once he felt they were finally fully linked, he licked his tongue on her neck to close up the wound.

Once he pulled away from her, he felt a rush of power leave him—his inner demon sated retreating back within him—and saw his purple jagged mark on the junction of her neck and shoulder. He smiled a genuine smile seeing it on her. She looked up at him dreamily and touched it, unshed tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Inuyasha…”

“You’re thanking me?! Kagome, you really are the craziest girl I have ever met! I should be thanking you… for everything. For accepting me. For loving me. For being patient and never giving up on me. Gods, I must be the luckiest bastard alive…”

“Guess you’re my luckiest bastard,” she said with mischief in her eyes.

He stuttered from the language she used but realized she was trying to tease him and chuckled a bit. She really had grown up a lot over the past three years. She wasn’t a stupid girl anymore. She had become a woman. He pulled her up and off him and then laid them both down on the futon and covered them. He held her close and stroked through her long black locks with his claws.

“So… what do…uhm… I-uh… I have some questions now?”

He rolled his eyes and laughed softly smirking down at her curious face, “What are your questions, mate?”

“How do we tell everyone?” she asked smiling up into his amber eyes.

“Well… We can tell them whatever you want—Sango probably already knew this would happen eventually since she explained to you about inuyoukai mating rituals and traditions. Shippo will obviously smell you. But we can tell them, or we can hide it if we tell the runt to keep his mouth closed. It’s up to you.”

“You—You won’t be embarrassed?”

“I may end up killing the monk for his teasing, but no. You are my mate. I don’t want to have to hide that…”

“What about from…” she bit her lip and looked away. He knew who she was referring to without actually voicing her name.

“Kikyo? She probably can already sense it through your shared soul. It’s a soul bond remember?”

“Right… So…”

“So nothing, Kagome. I knew what it meant when I claimed you. I’m not ashamed nor will I hide it from her. I owe her vengeance. I don’t owe her my life… Hahahahaha, I’m actually excited for the next time we run into the wolf.”

Kagome glared at him, “Now, Inuyasha…”

“I won’t kill him. Relax. But if he doesn’t accept or respect the mark, I will have to maim him.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. She snuggled into his chest and he buried his nose in her hair.

“Rest Kagome… We have all the time in the world now…”

[tsunnychan]

a change of pace: new year’s celebrations

i can finally rest.... this is the last piece of sylvgrid i’ll write for the next few months to come

it’s been a crazy run (I have never written so much since high school) and every second has been enjoyable

reconnecting and making new friends @shining-jul-of-hope and @nicolewrites to die on the new sylvgrid hill :). i might not be writing or as active, but i’ll definitely be reading!!

ao3 

summary: on the brink of the New Year, Ingrid recounts the friendships she's made and the ones maintained.during the actual countdown, she thinks of something else.

-

It is about five o’clock in the evening on New Year’s Eve, but that didn’t stop Sylvain from bringing out the alcohol and board games. Currently, there’s a rather large gathering around the dining table to watch, apparently, the most intense game of Monopoly to date. Hilda and Marianne stand behind Claude, looking over his shoulder and counting the amount of properties he owned. Meanwhile, Annette is pulling on Felix’s arm as she verbally counts out loud how many properties and railroads Sylvain owns as he casually waves off her concerns, gesturing for Petra to roll the dice, Ashe sitting to her right explaining the rules. Once she does, the sounds of simultaneous glee and frustrated groans erupt immediately after, several hands reaching for their drinks, grumbling as they took more shots.

Ingrid snorts into her drink as she watches Sylvain and Claude exchange high-fives across the table, while Petra holds up a handful of rainbow paper in confusion with Ashe frantically trying to explain the different values of money.

She mutters to herself, “those two should never be allowed to play boardgames together…”

She’s just about to take another sip when a warm arm wraps around her waist and a teasing voice singsongs into her ear, “Ooh, Ingie! Scoping out which boy you’d like to smooch tonight?”

Ingrid chokes and almost spits out her drink.

Thankfully, Dorothea waves off any worried glances sent their way with a wink, patting Ingrid’s back not-so apologetically as she tries to catch her breath.

Face red and still coughing, Ingrid glares at the innocent smile on her friend’s face. “That is not what I’m doing.”

Dorothea sighs dramatically and slides into the stool next to her, resting her elbows on the countertop. “Pity. I’m sure one of them would’ve enjoyed that.”

Despite not drinking anything, Ingrid almost chokes again. Her mind briefly flashes to the jade pendant in her room before she violently pushes the thought away, hoping, praying, the sudden heat on her cheeks is passable for alcohol. She whips her head over to friend, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

The mock-forlorn expression on Dorothea’s face melts into one of mischief. “Oh, Ingie. I’m not one to spill other people’s secrets.” She wiggles her fingers at her, the blue gemstone of her ring sparkling under the kitchen lights. Dorothea winks again. “Besides, you know I’d much rather keep you to myself.”

Ingrid sighs, exasperated, but smiles anyway. She sips at her drink carefully, not wanting a repeat performance of earlier. “Well, all of that aside, I’m glad you like the ring enough to wear it often. I’m not very good at picking out jewelry… but I really wanted to thank you. You saved me from a huge headache.”

Just thinking about that disastrous blind date from last year makes her nauseous. At her father’s request, she’d agreed to meet with a potential business partner, interested in bailing out her father’s company and taking over production costs. These requests had steadily streamed in after… Glenn’s accident, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, nor anything she couldn’t handle on her own.

So, she went to the meeting alone.

It’d been some distance away from Garreg Mach, closer to Mittelfrank Opera House, and a corner of her mind began sending her warning signals. She stood across the street from the appointed address, and she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Then, a slim arm looped around hers and tugged, a sweet voice gasping, loud and abrasive, “Oh, Ingrid! This is where you were? You should’ve told me you got lost! I would’ve escorted you myself!”

And suddenly, she and this mystery brunette were flying down the street and she was thrust through the doors of the opera house. Ingrid was still busy trying to catch her breath and figure out how this girl new her name and why that gut feeling of hers disappeared.

The doors slammed shut and Ingrid flinched. She looked up, the other girl dusting off her clothes and rearranging her skirt. She looked vaguely familiar… Before she could voice her thoughts, the other girl made eye contact and smiled. “Well, Ingie, I’d say we dodged a huge bullet there. Perhaps, literally.”

Several thoughts ran through Ingrid’s mine, but the first one that came out was, “Ingie?”

She received a coy smile in response. “Ingrid Galatea, right? Sylvain’s friend?”

Ingrid’s head swirled even more. “How do you know Sylvain? Wait, don’t answer that—”

At that, the other girl threw her head back and laughed, so freely, that Ingrid wondered what she’d said. She watched as the other gleefully wiped tears from her eyes, smile wide on her face. “Oh, Ingrid. Sylvain is cute, but…” she winks, and Ingrid feels herself flush. “He’s not my type.”

Seeing her confusion, the other girl’s playful smile turned gentle. “In all seriousness, we worked part-time jobs together. He comes to the opera house now and then to help out and relax. He talks about you all the time”

After a few more moments of silence, Ingrid finally forced out the questions she meant to ask. “Who are you? And why did you bring me here?”

A mixed expression flashed over her face, but it’s not there long enough for Ingrid to recognize. “I’m Dorothea Arnault. I’m actually in the year above you, which is probably why you haven’t seen me around before… and as a Blue Lions’ kid, I doubt you’ve been around the Black Eagles dorms very often. As for bringing you here…”

Ingrid felt a sudden chill as Dorothea’s eyes turned hard. “Let’s just say that scumbag businessman you were going to meet? The only thing he has to his name is blood money.”

She freezes. “What?”

Dorothea scowled and crossed her arms. “He’s a frequent visitor to the opera house, donating this or that. Our company looked him up and we’ve banned him for life.”

“How did you know where I was going?”

Dorothea sighed heavily. “The opera house may have banned him, but we don’t have the power to remove someone from the city. That building you were going to? That’s his base of operations. He’s got this whole region wrapped around his pinky with blackmail.”

Ingrid shifted uncomfortably, dread settling in her stomach with this new information. She was going to have to write her father back. Another thought popped into her head. “I might be Sylvain’s friend, but you’ve never met me before. How did you know it was me?”

Dorothea laughed again, shaking her head. “Ingie, Sylvain paints a very vivid picture of the best friend who cleans up after him.”

Ingrid couldn’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, muttering, “Sylvain…”

Dorothea walked to her side and held out her hand. “As insufferable as he is, he does care. He’d cover my shifts so I could come back here to perform. So… any friend of his, is a friend of mine.”

Ingrid felt the corner of her mouth lift and took the proffered hand. “He does have his redeeming qualities, doesn’t he?”

Dorothea laughed again and linked their arms together. “That he does. Speaking of performances, we have one in a few hours. How would you like to stay and help? As a thank you to your lovely savior?”

Ingrid flustered. “Well, I’m not much of a performer—”

“Then how about you stay and watch? I’ll even give you a make-over, free of charge.”

“I thought you said this was my ‘thank you’ to you?”

Dorothea winked and bowed dramatically, and Ingrid realized exactly why Sylvain and Dorothea were friends. “And it would be such a gift to dress you, Miss Galatea.”

Ingrid wasn’t able to get many other words in edgewise, as Dorothea pushed her to the dressing rooms and threw her a slew of dresses to try on. A few weeks later, Ingrid nervously entered the Black Eagles dormitory for the first time and handed off a little black box to Dorothea. “I know this isn’t much and I’m not the best at picking gifts—”

She was promptly pounced upon after her new friend saw the glittering blue gemstone set in a simple band. She received an exaggerated, wet kiss on her cheek. “Oh, Ingie! You shouldn’t have!”

Ingrid laughed as Dorothea’s hold on her grew tighter. “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have, if it’s going to give you the wrong ideas.”

Dorothea pulled back and smiled innocently. “Me? Never.”

Ever since then, she and Dorothea had met up regularly. She would always run by her father’s requests with her and they would go on the occasional shopping trips where Dorothea urged her to try on far too many clothes out of her comfort zone.

But even then, Ingrid appreciates it. Having grown up with brothers and having three additional headaches to monitor in the form of her childhood friends… it’s nice to be taken care of for the things she never cared about before.

Then, Dorothea reaches over and swipes her drink, finishing it off in one go, breaking her out of her reverie. Ingrid raises her eyebrows, growing apprehensive. Dorothea only ever pulls a stunt like that when she’s ready to talk her into something she will wholeheartedly not agree with. “…What are you plotting now, Thea?”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Dorothea grins. “How about a little make-over?”

Four hours later, Ingrid now sits in her bathroom, fidgeting in a gauzy mint dress, as Dorothea adds another layer of eyeshadow. “Dorothea… is all of this really necessary?”

“Ingrid! Tonight’s a special occasion! Didn’t you say you would dress up for special occasions?”

She wrinkles her nose as Dorothea brushes over it with blush. “I’ve celebrated New Year’s with everyone before and I’ve never dressed up.”

Dorothea sighs and sets down her brushes with a clatter, and Ingrid takes this as her cue to open her eyes. She’s slightly taken aback at her reflection, gold glittering on her eyelids, cheeks rosy, lips glossed… She gulps. “Dorothea… what are you getting at with all of this?”

Her friend sighs again and sets her hands on her shoulders, resting her chin on top of Ingrid’s head. “Ingrid, were you really not scoping out a boy to smooch tonight?”

She splutters, “W-what? No! What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, some of Fódlan folklore says the first person you meet on New Year’s and how you meet them, determines the rest of your year. And a kiss is for strengthening ties you want to maintain in the future.”

Ingrid’s face is impossibly hot and she wonders how strong the alcohol Sylvain bought really was… “W-what’s your point?”

“Not thinking about Claude or Sylvain?”

The heat in her face instantaneously spreads to the rest of her body and she physically bats away a laughing Dorothea. “No! Dorothea, why would you say that?”

Her friend shrugs, sly smile on her face. “No particular reason, just curious. You seemed so amused looking in their direction. I just wanted to know which of the two you were looking at.”

Ingrid stares at her friend in mortification, but only receives a wink in response. “Or maybe… both?”

Ingrid shoots up from her stool and covers her face, only to have her hands wrenched away. “Your make-up, Ingrid! Don’t smudge it!”

“Dorothea!”

Taking pity, Dorothea sighs and sits Ingrid back down, gently smoothing down her hair. “Relax, Ingie. I’m only teasing… mostly.”

Still burning in embarrassment, Ingrid mutters, “I was looking at them because I was thinking how they should never be allowed to play boardgames together… They’re going to drink everyone under the table at this rate.”

Dorothea snorts and begins to rifle through Ingrid’s jewelry collection. Her eyes land a new white box and she opens it. “Ingrid, when did you get this pendant?”

Ingrid’s eyes dart to the piece in question. “Oh. Sylvain bought that in Sreng for me as my Christmas present.”

Dorothea hums noncommittedly as she fishes out a delicate silver chain from her own jewelry box. She threads it through the pendant and places it around Ingrid’s neck, fastening the clasp.

Ingrid’s eyes widen. “Thea, isn’t this your chain—?”

“Hmm, think of it as a gift. You gave me a ring, and I’ll give you a necklace chain.”

Ingrid’s fingers hover over the jade pendant and Dorothea smiles at her in the mirror. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  Reminded me of you.

  For the third time today, Ingrid feels herself flush.

Ingrid is two drinks into the night when she finally finds Sylvain leaning against the far wall of the living room, nursing a near empty cup with a similarly empty expression on his face. She joins him, shoulders brushing, only slightly worried when he didn’t so much as look in her direction. She purses her lips. “What, lose all that hard-earned money from Monopoly today?”

Sylvain blinks and his eyes adjust to her. He’s silent for a few more moments, studying her. Then, he laughs and shakes his head. “Well, you know Claude.”

She knocks his elbow with hers. “I also know you.”

He snorts. “That you do.” Then, “is that the necklace?”

Her stomach lurches suddenly and she forces herself to nod. “Yeah, it is. Dorothea gave me the chain for it.”

Sylvain is silent again, before the corner of his lips curl up. “It’s pretty. You look nice, Ingrid.”

There’s a blush burning on her cheeks yet again, and another that starts in the center of her chest. She swallows hard, their conversation on Christmas Eve pushing to the forefront of her mind. Of the words she didn’t say out loud. “Hey, Sylvain?”

“Hm?” His head rolls toward her, lazy smile on his face. The countdown to the New Year fades into the background and Ingrid never realized how golden his eyes could get. She drops her head to his shoulder abruptly, heat shooting down her spine. She’s definitely had one too many drinks.

“Ing?”

His hand is hovering over hers, and before she can overthink it, she grabs it and squeezes. She swallows the lump in her throat, trying not to think about the heat of his palm and how right it feels with his fingers slotted between hers. She forces herself to meet his gaze again. “I’m glad you’re home.”

She can hear Annette and Ashe scream, “Happy New Year!” from the other side of the room, but she’s focused on the pink in Sylvain’s cheeks and wonders if it’s from the alcohol he brought. A tight squeeze of her hand brings her eyes back to his. Somehow, the gold in his eyes melts even further and she’s lost. So lost, as her mouth dries when that small smile, just for her, grows on his lips. “Me too.”

And maybe not for the first time, if she’s honest with herself, Ingrid wonders what it would be like to kiss her best friend with the secret sunshine smile.

[cartooness]

‘I am NOT blushing, it’s just warm in here.’ For the masonder drabbles pls?

"Alright, Lav. You can do this, he's right there. Just go up to him and ask him out! Can't be that hard... right?"

Lavender was nervous beyond belief, she's never done anything like this before. But she's read enough books to know that to move the plot along, you've gotta go for it or you'll be screaming in frustration later.

Mason Adalbert. The one boy who could send her heart a flutter and turn her whole being to mush with a smile. He didn't seem like the kind of boy "girls like her" would go for; but she didn't give any fucks about that. He was cute as a button, smart, was super kind, and drank his respect women juice. Did she mention he was absolutely adorable?

She fixed her collar, adjusted her romper, and tousled her hair a bit. Here goes nothing.

"Mason."

He looked up from cleaning his glasses. "Yeah?"

fUCk he's cute, "Um. I was, um, hoping that. Um.", 'God I'm going nowhere, just cut to the chase.' she thought to herself. "Would you go out with me? Uh, please?"

He looked at her with a blank stare as he adjusted his glasses, "Me? Are. Are you sure?" 'Of course it's you!', she hastily thought.

"Yes, you. I'm sure of it. I um.. would really like to go out with you."

His cheeks flushed red and he gave a shy smile. "Yes. I'd love to. Where.... were ya thinking of going?"

Time for her plan! "Well, I was thinking of going to the roller rink tomorrow because it's Half Price Thursday. Plus, I've never been and I just thought it'd be fun... and yeah." God, she hoped she didn't look or sound too awkward.

"Ooh that does sound like fun, Lavender! What time were you thinking of-"

Ah, shit, Sheila's coming...

"Well, well, well, look at what we've got here! A goth wannabe prude asking out a boring little prude nerd. What a perfect pair, I'll bet-"

Lavender bared her claws, "Sheila Anderson get the fuck out of my face before I slice your damn neck off."she growled.

"Jeez bitch, calm down, I was just leaving", replied Sheila, annoyance and fear in her voice.

"Good." And with that, Lav went back to her business. "I'm so sorry Mason, I HATE when she talks to people like that, especially people I... like. Um, i was thinking around 5:30. Will that work for you?"

"Uhh yeah, that sounds good! Let me just, um, write it down really quick in my Little Tiny Journal for Various Things. ((Authors note, I actually have a notebook that says that on me at all times. XD))"

"Alrighty! It's a date! See ya then, bye! One of my dads should be here by now to, uh, pick me up haha."

He pulled her into a quick hug, "Bye Lav!"

...

She shouldn't have said a single thing. Lav had just come home to a small swarm of deadbeats, and not quite thinking, she spilled the beans about her upcoming date with Mason to them. But the thing about them is, they're like little kids; they'll repeat what they hear to anyone who'll listen. Excited about the news, they roamed around telling everyone in HQ that 'Lavender has a date with a boy tomorrow!' over and over again.

"Dang it, now I'll probably have to deal with- oh no he's pounding on my door."

"LAVENDER DEARIE, PLEASE LET ME IN, I HAVE TO KNOW ALL THE BITS AND DETAILS ABOUT YOUR DATE!! OH MY GODS, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR-"

"Calm down Decan, you're going to break down my door!! Come in, we'll talk, I promise."

She let him in and he immediately started asking his burning questions, "Who is it!? Who's the lucky lad!? I'm all ears!!" With a sigh, she prepared herself to answer his 300 questions. "Well, it's Mason,-"

"HAH!! I KNEW IT!! LEWIS, YOU OWE ME 20 DOLLARS!!" he exclaimed.

"Um. Alright then. Mason and I are going to the roller rink tomorrow at 5:30 for Half Price Thursday."

"Ooh! I have a couple of outfit ideas that will make him fall head over heels for you~" he replied, ready to plan.

"Fine. But I get to choose the shoes."

"Deal! Let's see what they are so I can plan accordingly!"

She phased through her walk in closet and pulled out her choice of shoes, recieving a slight grimace from Decan. "These ones. I insist."

Decan took a large inhale, "Darling, I  L O V E  you, but I'm starting to regret that deal... I just... can't quite DEAL with those shoes... but! I like a challenge, so let's see what I can do!"

The shoes in question were knee high tye dye Converse in the demi romantic and asexual flag colors, but the green and purple colors were neon; not the easiest thing to match, that's for sure.

What felt like AGES later, Decan found an outfit consisting of a shin length black dress with lavender lace trim on the bottom, completed with sheer tights. He looked as if he was in the nth dimension, proud to have accomplished an impossible seeming task. "I DID IT!!! FINALLY!!!"

"Yes you did! I feel cute uwu."

"Well, you ARE cute!" he replied, stating his facts.

"....fine. I'll let you have it this ONE time." she replied, a small blush on her face.

"Alrighty then! Let's go downstairs, everyone is a buzz with excitement about your first date~"

So downstairs they went, and about four seconds later E V E R Y O N E was shooting the same rapid fire question,

"LAV WHO ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE WITH?!?!"

With a sharp inhale, she spilled the tea, "I'm going on a date with Mason, he's the cutie I'm always talking about." 

"And YOU, LEWIS PEPPER, OWE ME TWENTY BUCKAROOS!! FORK IT OVER!!" bellowed Decan, thrilled to have predicted correctly for once.

A slight grumble was heard from the back of the living room, and an annoyed deadbeat swarmed over with a twenty dollar bill and put it in Decan's waiting hands, "thank you!!~"

Everyone shared their excitement for the girl, along with a bit of worry about what could happen, but Lavender assured them that Mason is a very kind person. Plus, if anything happens, she always has a way to get out of a situation; magic and her amazing combat skills.

...

The day had come, and Lav had just been dropped off at the roller rink. She began looking for Mason until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey! Looking for me?~" he announced, playful smirk on his face.

"Actually, yes. Sorry to keep you waiting, one of my dads took a bit longer than I thought doing my makeup... but hey! I'm not technically late, it's only 5:19." she replied.

"Oh please, you're worth the wait."

"What?"

"What?"

Both teens had a dusting of red on their faces, standing in an awkward silence.

"Umm, you look very nice! Love the shoes, must've taken ages to match haha." Mason chimed, nervously laughing.

"Aww, thank you. My Papa Decan almost gave in trying to find something, twas funny." she replied.

"Lav?"

"Yeah?"

"How. How many dads do you have, um, exactly? Are they polyamorous or, uh, something to that extent?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, that! No, they're not all poly, I'm adopted and a bunch of people have shared custody over me, so I basically have like, a dozen parents at this point pretty much. And all but two are men, so that's why I have a bunch of dads. Funny thing is, they're all in their mid-to-late twenties, so they're not quite on that 'dad age level' but I don't care. They all make bad jokes and are very caring so... yeah, haha. Don't tell anyone, but I'd totally do anything for them, all my caretakers. I love them a lot, and they all love me a lot, and I don't deserve them most of the time." she warmly replied, softly smiling to herself. Mason felt his cheeks warm up and his eyes were likely shining.

"Awww, that's so sweet! Also, you SO deserve each other! I like to think that things usually happen for some reason one way or another, and I think it's wonderful that they found you and that you all care for each other so much! Wh-why are you crying? Are you alright?"

She touched her face and realized 'yep those are mascara tears alright.'

"Oh, um, I'm okay. Sorry, I didn't even see I was crying. Um, let's, um, go inside, it's getting dark... or something. Haha." Lav replied, trying to move the date along.

"Oh, um, ok. Do you... want a hug?" he asked, trying to make her feel better.

"Yes please, I'd love that."

And with that, he pulled her into a warm hug, taking in each others warmth with a smile. 'She smells like warm apple pie... no wonder she's so wonderful...'

After what felt like An eternity, they departed and both were blushing messes.

"Um-"

"I am NOT blushing, it's just warm in here." snapped Lav, not sure what to do with these... warm,,, happy static feelings.

"Wait, you're  B L U S H I N G?? You look so cute though!" he replied back, smile in his eyes.

"Wha, uh, I-I do NOT!!",she sputtered, blushing deeper, "YOU'RE the cutie here! With your beautiful silver eyes, your soft caramel hair, and your breathtaking smile that I like so much! Not to mention, you're SUPER smart and nice and, and, GENUINE!! Do you know how many times literal DIRTBAGS have tried to flirt with me? They're always weird and gross and I do NOT like it, and I don't like how it's easily accepted for them to be all... X rated all the time!! Like, it may be cause I'm ace and repulsed by s*xual stuff, but still! Don't be gross, people!" she outburst, recieving some strange glances.

"*sigh*, I'm sorry Mason, let's go inside now, people are staring and I don't want them to do anything to you." she softly spoke, gently holding his back for him to follow her.

"...thank you. For, um, everything. It means a lot to me, stuff like that. Again, thank you so much.", he whispered, not sure what to say or do. "...am I making this, uh, awkward for you, Lavender? I'm really sorry if I am-"

"No, you're fine it's, uh, all good. Let's go get skates and such already, haha." she nervously replied, finally walking inside.

...

They were having a surprisingly good time, despite the shaky beginning. Both were doing laps around the rink, holding onto the perimeter every ten seconds due to fear of falling. But they got the hang of it, carefully skating around. They kept tapping hands, unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to join them together. Finally, Mason went in for the kill and took ahold of her hand. She felt a smile creep up her face, and held his hand back.

"Your hand fits nicely into mine, ya know." he smiled.

"Yeah. It does." she replied back, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, and him in return blushing like crazy. "Aww, you're so cute when you're blushing, Mason."

WELL THAT TOOK FOREVER LMAO. Sorry for the excessive length, it turned into a full on fic lol. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!!

Also Decan belongs to @thefearanddespair

EDIT: This is for the Villain!Lav AU, I forgot to mention it lol

[goalcaufield]

Fate - Jack Hughes

requested: y/n

request: Hi! Love the blog! I was wondering if you could write a one-shot for Jack Hughes? I was thinking something like bumping into him one day, not realizing who he was (idk for some reason I imagine this at a bar or party or something buuut we’d both be underage lol) and then seeing him again in another cute way. And both times he’s like mad at himself that he didn’t get to talk to you more but then you go to a game and he finally finds you and asks you out. Thanks!!

word count:

“I did not sign up for this,” You grumble as you push through the mass of sweaty teenagers dancing and jumping to the newest hit of the week. You tried to make your way through the bodies without getting pushed around too much, and once you finally did you let out a long sigh of relief.

You lean against the wall, trying to survey the crowd for any sign of your friends. You had been dragged along as the designated driver, and being the good friend that you were you accepted. The last thing you wanted was for them to drive intoxicated. So, here you were at some shitty high school party in Michigan. After you recollected yourself you pushed yourself off the wall in search of your friends. You were just about ready to leave and you wanted to tell them to wrap it up.

As you were walking you weren’t paying attention. Your full attention had been on trying to find your friends, not watching some dumb high schoolers every move. A boy bumped into you and that sent you stumbling back, and before you knew it you bumped into someone else.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” You say, turning around to face whoever it was you had fallen into. It was a boy. A fairly attractive boy indeed. Your eyes caught the huge wet spot on his shirt and your eyes widened. “I am so sorry.” You repeat.

The boy chuckles, placing his now empty cup on the table beside him. “It’s fine, it was only water, it’ll dry. I’m the DD for my friends, so I gotta stick to water.”

“Same here,” You reply, and you look around to catch a sight of either the brunette or the blonde who had both pleaded for you to come in the first place, only to abandon you in the end.

“Y/N!” You hear your best friend Kayla’s voice sing, and suddenly she appears right next to you drunk as ever. “Ooh, I see you girlfriend. I approve,” She teases, and for emphasis she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Sorry about her,” You smile awkwardly at the boy who just shrugs it off. “We were about to head out anyway.”

Kayla gives you an astonished look, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping agape. “We are not!” She protests. “The night is still young, and so are we! Besides, you’ve finally found yourself a hot guy. Can’t let that slip, now can you?” She juts out her hip with her hand on it, giving you a disapproving look.

Once again, you give the boy an apologetic look but he just seems amused. “Kayla, let’s go. We need to go find Maddie.”

Kayla pouts, but she obliges. But she doesn’t leave without one last word. “She’ll find you later,” She sends the boy a wink and your cheeks flush pink.

“Go,” You tug on her arm, glancing back at the boy. “See you. Sorry about the shirt.”

You’re quick so he can’t notice your blushing cheeks, but you’re pretty sure he does anyway. As you walk away you hear a faint “Wait!” But it’s too late. You’re already embarrassed as it is, why embarrass yourself further?

After you finally gather up your drunken friends you head out the door with them trailing and stumbling behind you. However, you can’t seem to get that boy off your mind.

<><><><><><>

You can’t help the giggles that escape your lips as you watch your friends — Kayla and Veronica included — struggle to stand straight on their skates. You can’t recall who’s bright idea it was to go ice skating on a Friday night but you didn’t seem to mind. You got together about ten or so friends, including some boyfriends of a few of the girls, and you were ready to have a good time. You had been stressing about school lately and skating was one way you often cleared your mind.

Stepping on the ice felt like home to you. The sounds of the blades slicing through the ice filled your ears and it seemed like all your worries melted away. By no means were you some professional figure skater, but you could get your way around quite nicely.

“Keep your ankles straight!” You instructed, but it was pretty much useless. Kayla fell as soon as her skate made contact with the ice, sending you doubling over in your laughter as your friends laughed as well.

Luckily for you some of them weren’t as horrible as you were expecting, but there were a few that definitely had to hold onto the boards for some serious leverage. You let yourself wander freely, and soon enough you were off on your own consumed by your own thoughts.

When you had made a few laps around the ice, Kayla, Lachlan, Wyatt and Maddie had barely made it around twice — if that. The others were doing fine it seemed. But you were growing bored, so you decided you needed to spice it up a little bit. You made sure you were as quiet as you could be as you snuck up on the small group. Once you were close enough, you grabbed Kayla’s shoulders and yelled in an attempt to scare her.

It worked.

She screamed so loud she fell forward landing on her stomach. You laughed hysterically, so hysterically that you doubled over onto the ice. You were practically cry laughing at that point.

“You bitch!” The blonde yells, but you knew she was kidding, especially because of how she was still a laughing mess.

“You love me,” You teased her in between giggle fits. “But you should have seen your face!”

Once you had eased up a little bit Lachlan offered you his hand so you could get up. However, he wasn’t firmly planted so you basically pulled him down with you. You started laughing once again and there was no stopping you then. That is, until someone stopped in front of you. They had actual hockey skates, not some rinky dink rental ones from the rink, so it wasn’t one of your friends. You look up, and sure enough it’s the boy from the party.

“You look like you need a hand,” He smiles down at you and you smile right back up at him. Reluctantly you take his hand, and he pulls you up with ease. You stumble slightly as you stand to your feet, but his arm is wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you in place.

“You know, I don’t think I ever got your name,” You look up at him cheesily. He’s still holding you close, probably too close for being practically strangers, but you don’t mind.

“Jack,” He said. “Jack Hughes. And yours?”

“Y/N.” You answer softly, a small grin making its way onto your face.

“Well, Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before you could say anything else a group of boys skated up to the two of you. “Jack, lets go.” One of the boys tugged on his arm.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Jack groaned, but you giggled quietly.

“Go,” You ushered him on. “It’s okay.”

Jack gave you an apologetic smile before skating away with his friends, who you soon would learn to be his teammates. You turn back to your friend who are all giving you looks.

“What?” You ask, a sheepish smile making its way onto your face.

“So, Jack, huh?” Kayla teased, clearly remembering the night of the party from hell. You shrug, the blush on your cheeks giving you away almost instantly. “Someone’s got a crush,” She sang and bumped her elbow into your side.

You roll your eyes, but your gaze falls on Jack and a few of his buddies as they skated around. “We’ve met literally twice now. It’s nothing more than a little crush.” You reply sheepishly. You hug yourself slightly, the cold of the small rink beginning to make its way through the thin fabric of your sweatshirt.

Jack glances over at you and so do a few of his friends, causing your cheeks to flush and you to look away quickly. You turn back to your friends.

“Ready to head out, yeah?” You ask and pretty much everyone agrees. You skate one more lap, passing by Jack and his friends once more before you exit the ice.

<><><><><><>

“So, what team is this for?” You ask Kayla as the two of you walk into the USA Hockey Arena. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the amount of memorabilia that littered the walls. It was cluttered, but it worked. The whole place was decked out in red, white, and blue which was quite fitting. It felt homey.

“The USA U18 team,” Kayla says as the two of you approach the ticket booth. “You remember Oliver, right?” Of course you remember Oliver. She didn’t shut up about the boy. “It’s the team he plays on.”

You nod, taking your ticket from the women in the booth. You walk around until you find the rink the team is playing in, warm ups for them already in full swing.

“You know I know pretty much nothing about hockey, right?” You ask Kayla who laughs nodding as she did so. “All I know is there's a bunch of guys ice skating, chasing after a rubber thing and they having to beat the goalie in the net. I’m pretty limited.”

“If I’m being honest that’s all I know too. But you know I really like Oliver, and I wanna show him I can support him,” Kayla says and you smile at her. She normally didn’t settle on a guy for a while. It was a nice change to see her so interested in someone for once.

“I’m happy for you, Kay,” You smile at your best friend as the two of you make your way into the stands. You two manage to snag second seats, so you have an amazing view of the team as they skate around.

A huge smile makes its way onto Kayla’s face as her eyes scan around the ice. You assumed she was trying to find Oliver, and when she did the grin on her face only got wider. “Is that him?” You ask, pointing at a boy who couldn’t keep his eyes off Kayla.

“Yeah,” Kayla replies sheepishly, looking at him with pure love in her eyes. You laugh quietly to yourself before surveying the ice yourself. You see two boys laughing with each other, and as the once turns around revealing his face to you, you let out a little gasp. “What’s wrong?” Kayla asks, turning to face you.

“That’s Jack,” You couldn’t even believe and the disbelief in your voice certainly proved it. You never thought you would see him again after ice skating. You thought you had just gotten lucky. “He’s Oliver’s teammate?”

A shy smile appeared on Kayla’s face. “Surprise?”

Your mouth drops open as you gape at your best friend who falls into a fit of giggles. “You knew?” You ask her and she manages to nod. “How did you figure it out?”

“Oliver obviously wasn’t at the rink the other night. But he had told me he plays for the national development team, and Jack was wearing a USNTDP jacket, so I texted Oliver and he told me Jack Hughes is his teammate. He’s a big deal, actually. He’s supposed to go first overall in the 2019 draft.”

You let all of the information sink in. You had a helpless crush on this boy and you couldn’t seem to get him off your mind. And now suddenly he was everywhere? It was too good to be true.

“That’s -- wow,” You chuckle to yourself.

“I saw how the two of you just clicked with each other,” Kayla smiles at you. “You hadn’t been that happy in so long, Y/N. I couldn’t just let it slip away. When I found out they played together I had to get you to a game, so here we are.”

“Thank you,” You say to her and she smiles.

“Of course.”

It doesn’t take long for Jack to notice you, and when he does he looks just as shocked as you had. He turns to Oliver who smirks, motioning over to you and Kayla.Jack turns and he grins at you causing you to blush. It still felt so surreal. What are the odds?

The boys end up winning 3-1, so you were a bit hyped up after the game. And not to mention Oliver scored on a gorgeous set up from Jack. 

“Are we gonna wait for them?” You ask Kayla who nods.

“Of course we are, I mean you gotta see Jack again,” She gives you a knowing look and you find yourself smiling down at your feet.

The two of you make your way out of the rink and over towards the seating area of the concessions. You sit down at one of the free tables and wait for Jack and Oliver. It takes a good twenty minutes before Kayla announces Oliver texted her saying that they’re on their way out. You can’t help your racing heart and the beaming smile on your face as you watch Jack walk down the hallway that comes out from the locker rooms. 

“Hey Kay,” Oliver smiles at Kayla who gets up from her seat to hug Oliver. 

“Oliver, this is my best friend, Y/N. Y/N this is Oliver,” Kayla smiles with her arm wrapped around Oliver. She’s absolutely beyond the moon.

Oliver smirks. “So you’re the girl Hughesy can’t stop talking about?” He teases, which causes Jack’s face to turn a bright pink. “Kid won’t shut up about you.”

“Oh really now?” You smile at Jack who shrugs in response, a light smirk plastered across his lips. “So, how’ve you been? Been a bit, eh?”

“Better now that you’re here if I’m being honest,” Jack grins. “But, I think you’re trying to throw me off my game. I saw you and I got nervous, fanning on my shot. That’s a little rude.” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to distract you if that makes up for it. But I’m starting to think us constantly seeing each other is like fate.”

“Since this is fate,” Jack begins, a cheeky smile making its way onto his face. “How about we go out sometime?”

You smile. “You’re got yourself a deal, Hughes.”