#and when I wrote that line I literally paused for a moment

[itsgrimeytime]

@imaginemyfavoritefics

Magnolia in May (Part Six) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, angsty as hell (sorry), misunderstandings, hopelessness, settling, and crying.

[[A/N: Actually so fucked up over this. I thank What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish for this sudden sprint of new inspiration. Thanks for reading :)) ]]

"Lori," she added in, a wonderfully beautiful smile smoothing across her face, "-Mrs. Lori Grimes."

Suddenly, it wasn't raining around you. Or at least you couldn't feel it, despite the visual onslaught of the rain around you. You couldn't feel it-

"Mrs-" you cleared your throat -voice unsteady and scary, "-Mrs. Grimes?"

"Right, yes," she hummed, "-do you want to come inside? The rain is dreadful, I'd hate for you to get a cold. He should be down soon-"

"No," you answered, quickly -almost too quickly, "-no, I... It's not urgent enough to bother him."

"But it's urgent enough to walk in the rain?" She laughed -slightly, tilting her head, "-Really, he'll only be a few moments-"

"That's..." you paused, trying to keep your heart which was searing in your chest at bay, "-That's very kind of you, but I must be going."

"May I fetch you an umbrella, at least?"

You pursed your lips, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a heavy breath -trying to will the urge of your heart, and be rational, "Yes, if it's not a bother."

"None at all," she spoke, holding the door open for you to enter, "-should only take a moment."

You flinched, but stepped forward, entering the entryway -the beauty of the paintings as stunning as when you first saw them. Paint rather layered and color varied, as you took a few timid steps -leading down the entry hall, and you would've gone back. Truly, not eager to spend more time here, but your eyes caught on something.

The shine of gold glimmered in the corner of your eye, and you'd only wanted to see a glance-

It was a family portrait, intricately painted with beautiful smiling faces. Lori was rather still, a rather practiced smile across her face, something rather off in it. Mr. Grimes was just to her right -face rather solemn, it didn't seem to fit him. You were so used to his smile, the crinkle by his eyes, seeing him happy -it didn't seem so in the painting. And in the middle stood a young boy, dark brown hair styled and blue eyes familiar -they were the same as his father's.

Your eyes skimmed over his figure, eyes as blue as the day you met him and curls pushed back rather harshly. His suit is a dark gray, a delicate thing with many layers -more sort of formal business look that you hadn't seen of the man yet. Still quite handsome, despite it all.

Something slipped down your cheek, unrestrained, vulnerable-

"Ms. Greene?"

You cleared your throat, scrubbing away at your eyes -the harsh red there surely leaving a mark. Even despite that, you tried to school your face into a more gentle expression -something to hide the pain. It was rather ungraceful.

"I seemed to be able to find one in the closet nearby," she continued, toying with the umbrella in her hand -until her eyes splashed up, resting startlingly still on your form.

Her eyes flickered to the painting, and back to you with a thoughtful sort of glance, "If you don't mind me asking, how do you know him?"

"Mr. Grimes?" you composed yourself, certainly wishing the tears away or the shake of your voice. Anything that gave you away.

"Well," you started, eyes unwillingly settling on him in the portrait (despite your better judgment) as you fidgeted with your skirt -mud caked upon it so thoroughly that you found it rather stiff, "-I met him in the market, really- more acquaintances than anything. Helped him find-"

"Judith," she answered -a little clipped, but you couldn't tell if it was because of you or mentioning Judith, "-I know. He's spoke of you."

You swallowed the cry in your throat -something stirring in you that he talked of you, but it felt numb. It felt so far than it had just the other day -tracing the inked letters repeatedly, hopeful. You knew you shouldn't have been hopeful, you told yourself-

"You danced," she added, approaching you with hesitant steps, eyes locked onto the portrait -detailing the figures in her own head, you assumed, "-all night at the ball, did you not?"

"Oh," you hugged your coat to your arms, the fabric growing stiff as it dried, "-that wasn't... Mrs. Grimes, you have nothing to-"

"It was," she interrupted, "-I know it was, Ms. Greene. I could see it in him."

"See it?"

She laughed, a little bittersweet -hand moving to rest upon your shoulder, "Richard Grimes is an easy man to read, I'm sure you've learned. As I showed up on his doorstep, his feelings for me had changed. I knew it, just didn't know who."

"And yet, he let you in?"

Lori didn't respond, a sort of silence developed in the entryway as you peered upon the painting -eyes caught on every curve of his face, everything you could recognize. He was rather solemn in the painting, sure, but it was still him. And a part of you wished to commit him to memory if you never saw him again, you wanted to remember.

"Could you," she paused, clearing her throat and dabbing at her eyes, "-Could you fall in love with him?"

"Mrs. Grimes-" you urged -you didn't want to come in between them, it was truly the last thing you'd want on your conscience.

"Ms. Greene, it is of no offense to me. Answer freely."

"You're his wife-" you echoed -tone in a sort of disbelief, "-how will another woman admitting she could love your husband not offend you?"

"I'm a wife who loves another man," she answered -voice shaky and echoing through the air, "-I can hardly judge."

You paused, eyes surfing over him in the painting -eyes lighting up with the familiar memories of crinkle smiles and berry baskets. You weren't there yet, sure, but could you be?

"I could," you answered with finality, tears rising up from your throat, "-I am. I am falling in love with him, isn't that just dreadful?"

Mrs. Grimes smiled lightly -a bittersweet feeling smoothing over his lips, "No, it truly isn't. But-"

You spun to her attention, heart heavy in your chest -a sort of dread clawing up your throat. It could never end well, could it?

"He loves his children," she started, hand moving from your shoulder down to the two of your clasped hands, "-and if my reconciling with him makes their lives easier, I know he will try to do it. And I..."

"You can't promise to say no," you finished, eyes a little bleary and heart cracked open, "-I wouldn't wish you to."

Lori flattened her mouth into a thin line, a deep sort of sorrow setting in her eyes -heartbroken, just like you, "It's a comfortable life, I'd be incompetent to turn it down, and for that, I'm... sorry."

You swallowed, tears washing down your face -steadfast, as your eyes settled on hers (a sort of mutual pain suffered there), "I'm sorry for you too, Mrs. Grimes."

She smiled a tight one that was barely upon her features -yet, you appreciated the little warmth that it garnered. It helped, that a family could be rebuilt from your broken heart, but it hadn't healed it.

You wondered briefly if it ever would.

And then, you heard it -the heavy fall of footsteps, tapping on the tile, and the voice. A voice you thought may stay in your head, despite the hurt that twisted in your gut.

"Lori?" he echoed down the hallways -tone rather straightforward, "-I finally got them to sleep if-"

You locked eyes with her, desperate, pleading as you took the umbrella from her hands, "Don't tell him I was ever here. You must understand this-"

She stared at you -a bit incredulously, "I mustn't lie, and he deserves to know-"

"I will not," you started, but the crack in your voice stopped you, "-I will not break up a family for something so... so trivial."

"It's not trivial," she spoke on instinct, "-I know that you know that-"

"Don't-" you echoed, faltering in place -heart only sinking lower, further, "-please, Mrs. Grimes. I can't- I can't hold onto this. I must, I must move on. You have to understand that-"

She looked at you, heavy and you could almost find solace in her pain -even just for a moment. A moment too long.

"Ms. Greene?" he spoke into the entryway, bouncing around the tiles and you couldn't find it in yourself to respond, to even turn around, "-Did you... Did ya travel 'ere in the rain?"

You coached yourself -years of practiced poise made it somewhat easy but in this moment, it was rather difficult. As your eyes matched his blue ones, a sort of wilt filtered through his face (he'd probably seen your crying, despite your work to hide it, it was always obvious), and almost on instinct, you saw his hand extend to you. To soothe.

"I... I was just going, Mr. Grimes," you spoke, lifeless compared to your previous words to the man, "-don't trouble yourself for me, I only wished for some shelter from the rain."

He paused, before flickering to the window -where the rain still held heavy, "It's still quite bad, Ms. Greene, I'm not sure-"

"Mr. Grimes, don't... don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Make what harder?" he asked -a flash between concern and confusion rippling across his face (You couldn't focus on it, it only hurt. All it could do was hurt.), "-I seem to be confused."

His eyes laid gently onto Lori then, as you felt your heart crush in your stomach -puzzle pieces falling to the floor with no match. And you willed yourself to step towards him, straightening his vest ever so slightly. Fingertips yearning for something so harshly, you couldn't help it.

"Mr. Grimes, you're a wonderful man-" you spoke -watery and bittersweet, "-but you're not mine."

[lightseoul]

Hiii congrats on 2k! Can you please do no. 22 for this event. Love you💗

hello, nonnie! thank you so much for the greetings <3 and yes, of course! this was so fun to write lol it practically wrote itself. hope this one makes y'all laugh! and love you too 😚

(this is lightseoul���s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

22. "ARE YOU SINGLE?" (1.3k)

none of this would’ve happened if shitty hair—the hulking brute of a gentleman he begrudgingly calls his best friend—didn’t notice.

they were just taking a short albeit much-needed water break at the tail end of the day-shift patrol, the unforgiving sun having pushed them to near dehydration (as it always does) as they guarded this rather quiet part of the city.

and to be fair, it’s not like he did it on purpose.

he was just briefly but thoroughly scanning the area, like a responsible pro-hero on duty would, when his eyes laid on you.

“what was that?” kirishima, who just downed an entire 500 mL liter of cold water they got from the convenience store a block away, suddenly pipes up from right beside him.

“what.”

when the redhead doesn’t say anything for a beat, bakugou chances a glance at him, only to find the man sporting a shit-eating grin.

bakugou feels himself bristle.

kirishima’s grin only widens. “you just did a double take at that girl.”

“what girl?” bakugou grits out, feigning ignorance.

but any plans he had to keep that charade up practically fly out the proverbial window when the damned hardening hero moves to unabashedly point in your direction, and before his mind can catch up, his body lunges forward to restrain the man’s arm.

the man in question laughs. “i knew it.”

bakugou only scowls at him before shoving him away, as if he wasn’t the one who threw himself onto the guy in panic. kirishima takes it in stride, though, used to years of his friend’s rough treatment, taking the opportunity to look at you instead.

“ooh, she is cute.”

“shut up.”

bakugou fights the urge to follow his friend’s line of vision, knowing all too well what’ll greet him at the end of it.

he admits his gaze might’ve lingered a beat too long, not that he’ll ever admit that to his patrol buddy.

no, he’s taking that secret with him to the grave.

“let’s go say hi.”

bakugou instantly looks up in alarm, but before he can lunge forward again and hold the stupid fucking man back, kirishima is already up and crossing the street, the traffic lights having conveniently turned green for pedestrians just a moment ago.

he pauses for a second, the urge to flee and hide from you before his best friend does something to embarrass him and the curious need to go do say hi raging a tug of war inside of him.

but if there’s one thing he knows for certain as a pro-hero, it’s that a second’s worth of hesitation can cause irrevocable damage.

and so with gritted teeth, he follows suit and crosses the street, and in just a few strides, he finds himself trailing slightly behind the redhead, who’s now merely several feet from where you’re standing, holding to your chest what seems to be a clipboard.

you notice kirishima first, probably having heard the heavy booted footsteps of the two men, turning on your heel at the sound. your eyes widen at the sight, before your face morphs into a look of recognition and… pleasant surprise?

“oh gosh—” you start, eyes annoyingly fixed on his best friend, “—red riot, hello!”

“heya, …” kirishima trails off, and you promptly supply him with your name.

his pr prince of a best friend beams at you. “nice to meet ya!”

and only then does his presence seem to register to you, because your gaze finally drifts to him, and your smile falters for just a millisecond before you school your features into a polite expression.

“hello, mr. dynamight, sir.”

he feels his eye twitch at the salutation, and he doesn’t have to look at the pro-hero beside him to know that the guy is watching the scene before him in mild amusement. he doesn’t know how else to respond if not to ask you why the fuck he’s being treated so formally while you regard shitty hair with subtle familiarity, so he settles with a grunt.

that seems enough to satisfy you, though, because you swiftly turn back to kirishima. “my best friend is a huge fan of yours, by the way.”

and as kirishima readily accepts the compliment and thanks you, bakugou finds his mind singlehandedly honing on what you just said.

your best friend is a huge fan of kirishima, not you.

also, that means your best friend is a fan of his best friend.

and if the four of you were to pair up, perhaps on a double date…

bakugou shakes his head at the thought, and perhaps too aggressively, because he catches both of your attention, the two of you glancing at him with worry.

“you okay, bakubro?”

he steals a glance in your direction, which he instantaneously regrets, because he makes eye contact with you. he immediately averts his gaze, choosing to face the guy instead.

“‘m fine.”

kirishima hesitates. “you sure?”

bakugou only tosses him a glare.

“i’m gonna take that as a yes,” kirishima shoots back, before returning the smile on his face and shifting to regard you. “anyway, we were just taking a short break from patrol and wanted to check in. everything alright here?”

that apparently is enough to make you light up. bakugou’s gut churns in what is absolutely not jealousy.

“yeah, thanks!” you reply, gratitude bleeding into your tone. “i was just—” you trail off, eyes shifting down to that clipboard you’ve been clutching this entire time, before: “you know what, do you guys have a minute?”

“sure!”

“no.”

kirishima whips to look at him. “come on, bakubro! let’s help the citizens out, yeah?”

and bakugou doesn’t know why or how, but his mouth runs off before his brain or heart can dictate to him what to say.

“yeah,” he mutters, “for all i know, this is just a fucking pyramid scheme.”

instantly, the air around the three of you goes quiet.

that is, until kirishima pipes up. “he’s just joki—”

“thanks, red riot—” you cut him off, much to bakugou’s surprise, his eyes shooting up to look at you whose lips are now pulled into a tight line.

“—but i think only dynamight here fits my research’s inclusion criteria.”

your what?

and before he could even comprehend the last three words you just uttered, you bring up your clipboard and pen like you’re about to jot something down, and hit him with it.

“are you single?”

bakugou only gawks at you, too stunned to speak. although he apparently doesn’t have to, because you continue.

“are you?” you repeat, before laughing dryly. “of course you are, what with that fucking attitude…”

at that, kirishima instantly barks out a genuine laugh, his booming voice reverberating throughout the street, even startling the cat perched on top of those large garbage disposals.

bakugou, on the other hand, only gapes at you in horror, because who would’ve thought the pretty girl from across the street was a fucking rude ass potty mouth?

a fucking rude ass potty mouth who could clock him like that?

“does he tend to go speechless like this?” you ask kirishima a few moments later, who’s still shaking in suppressed laughter.

“no,” the pro-hero finally replies after catching his breath. “you’re the first one i’ve ever seen make him this way.”

“really?” you reply, voice low and laced with sarcastic disbelief.

“he is actually single, though,” kirishima quickly adds, much to his chagrin. “…if you’re interested.”

as if on cue, you finally turn to look at bakugou, and he—swear to god—feels his heart stop when you glance at him, something akin to curiosity hidden amidst your features.

but he doesn’t get to bask in it, though, or in its implications, because his dipshit of a best friend drawls on.

“if you are, though, that’s great—”

oh, don’t make him do it.

“—because he finds you very much attra—”

BAM!

[beesspacedotorg]

Romance is Doomed (Lie)

Summary: your parents tumultuous relationship has given you very little hope and expectations for your own. your boyfriend, Seungmin, seems determined to change that ... at least until he forgets an important romantic holiday. 4.2k

Warnings: angst. fluff. Kim Seungmin. porn. insecure reader. edging. no body type or pronouns mentioned. bad (?) parents. I wrote this based on a very sad conversation my parents had, so reader has mommy and daddy issues (double whammy). reader is insecure and at one point starts waxing poetic about being unlovable (????) but Seungmin calls them out on it so dw. This is my first time writing Seungmin so ... he might be a little ooc.

note: I don't really have an explanation for this. my parents made me sad so I wrote a fanfiction about Kim Seungmin to make me feel better. This is incredibly self indulgent, so if you don't like it that's okay. this is literally in my google docs as "This is for me and if you don't like it, sucks" so.

You know that it’s his job, so you can never get mad at him for it, not really. That would be irrational, and crazy, and you are neither of those things- or, not enough of those things to kick up a fuss. Still, when you hear him say it something in your chest pangs and you are left with a weird, hollow emptiness that you have no name for.

“Who’s your valentine?” Everyone is asking him, he’s an idol, it’s his job.

“Stay!” He smiles cutely and it squints his eyes slightly as he does. You can see his perfectly white and perfectly aligned teeth on your phone and you pause the video to switch to a different app instead, but your feed is perfectly curated to show you videos and pictures of your boy and his group, so all you see is him and that damned clip from that damned video.

You’re launched back to a conversation you’d had with your parents. It was in jest, you weren’t serious, but the tone of the day shifted drastically after you’d asked it.

“Mom, who’s your Valentine?” You were drinking the soda you’d just refilled and wincing slightly at the carbonation as you walked towards the car.

“No one, your Dad hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Dad, are you and Mom each other's Valentines?” He’s opening the door as you ask.

“No.” You can see your mom’s face fall, and for the rest of the day there’s a kind of gray cloud hanging over your parents. That moment sticks with you, and every year you think about it.

You and Seungmin are different though, you’re absolutely positive that he loves you. You’re absolutely positive that he cares about you and wants you around, you’re absolutely positive that if he wanted to get rid of you, he would. But he hasn’t, so you trust that he wants you around. But, this is his job. This is his job and you knew what you were getting into when the two of you started dating, so you can’t be mad at him, you won’t be mad at him.

-

“How are things at home?” You’re on the phone with your mother, you call her once a week. No matter what she’s put you through, she’s still your mother and you still love her, so you call.

“Oh, the usual. Your Dad is being. You know.” She sounds sad as she says it, and the worst part is that you do know. Crotchety and mean and in pain and cruel. So, you do know, and you feel bad for your mom when she says it. She is his wife, and he cannot spare her a drop of kindness.

The call ends, as it always does, with one of you saying something cutting and the other hanging up without responding to the “I love you” at the other end of the line. You look at your calendar. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and he still hasn’t asked you. Your mom says he might just assume that you two are each other’s Valentine’s because you’re together, you say that it would still be nice if he asked. Your mom tells you not to hold your breath. You tell her that you aren’t planning on it.

-

It took the two of you a while to get together, longer than it should have, probably. But, as in all things, you are naturally distrustful of the intentions of strangers, or strangers-turned-friends-turned-? so you avoided the topic any time he would try and hint at it.

“I have two tickets to the Giants game tonight!”

“Sick! Those are hard to come by, Seungminnie! I hope you and Jeongin have fun.”

“Well, actually-”

“Hey! Did I ever tell you about this thing I saw the other day?”

When you did finally stop avoiding it, he asked you why, and you told him it was stupid, and he said nothing can be stupider than the time he and Felix managed to over whip the eggs for their souffle pancakes, truly a feat considering the fact that the eggs they were using were cold.

“I like you a lot,” you’d said. “I like you a lot and it feels like the love I have for you is replacing the air that I breathe, and I know, one day, you’ll get tired of me and my sadness and my everything, and I’d rather not have to spend years of my life filling in the hole that you’ll leave with foam that’ll collapse come morning.”

He’d paused for a moment, and you’d looked at the ground.

“I don’t want you to get tired of me and leave. I don’t want to be afraid you’ll leave so I do it first and regret it days later. I don’t want you to get tired of me and stay only to make jabs at me until I am nothing but a pasta strainer masquerading as a person.”

He’d frowned at you.

“Do you really think that little of me?”

“What?”

“Do you think that I would walk away like that? That I wouldn’t put in effort to stay, or to make you stay? That I would hate you so much that I would share a bed with you and hurt you at the same time?”

“No, but-”

“Listen,” he grabs your hands, “I’m not entirely sure why you think the way that you do about these things, and I won’t promise that I won’t hurt you- I’m not that stupid. But I promise that I’ll try not to, that I’ll make it up to you if I do. But you have to promise me something too, okay?”

“What’s the promise?”

“Don’t think of me that way. I’m mean, sure, but I’m not evil.”

“It’s not that I think you’re evil-”

“But I’m the one doing those things to you, right? In your head, it’s me? Whether you deserve it or not, I’m the one doing it.”

“... I see your point.”

“Good, I was running out of emotionally intelligent things to say. If you hadn’t been worn down we would’ve had to rain check this conversation for another day.” You laugh at him and he holds your hand.

“Your whole speech was really poetic, by the way, how long have you been sitting on that?”

“How long have I been alive?” He laughs, because he was supposed to, but he places a kiss on your temple too. And there’s a moment where you think that romance isn’t doomed, and, maybe, neither are you.

-

The first time you and Seungmin have sex, you spend the whole time worrying if he secretly finds you gross and disgusting. Well, you try to, but at that point, he’s gotten pretty good at telling when you’re writing heavy prose in your head and he then does his absolute best at making you lose your mind with pleasure. He succeeds.

“What were you thinking about?” Is what he says while he’s testing the shower water to make sure it’s hot enough to keep you warm. You’d tried to find a happy middle once, while you were showering together (In the dark, because “your eyes hurt”. You just weren’t ready for him to see you naked.) and goosebumps had broken out across your skin almost immediately, you’d shivered so hard it sent your teeth chattering, and your lips had started turning blue. When the two of you got out and Seungmin noticed, he’d said that you two would just shower together at temperatures comparable to the lakes of hell and he’d get over himself.

You shake your head at him. He won’t like your answer. He asks you this often, when you shrink in on yourself, and when you tell him, he always looks a little sad. But you don’t like to lie, and it’s bad manners to keep things a secret from your partner, so you tell him.

“I was worried you thought I was like, I dunno. Ugly, or something.” He deadpans at you. You worry that he’s mad. He huffs and drags a hand down his face.

“I’ve never come so hard in my life and you think that I’m not attracted to you? I came so hard I nearly blacked out, came so hard I think I told you that I loved you and you think that I think you’re ugly.” You feel slightly chided. He grabs your hand and gently guides you into the shower.

“Just because you feel that way about yourself doesn’t mean that I do.” He’s looking into your eyes as he says it, tucking your hair out of the way because it doesn’t need to be washed yet while he reaches behind you to grab the body wash. You gape at him like a fish.

“Close your mouth,” he nudges your jaw shut gently, “you don’t want to catch flies.”

You have something new to think about.

-

241302 11:37 am

Seungminnie?

eunming

no

seunmind

no!

having trouble yoebo?

ah shit

haha! yoebo

-_-

what did you even want

I love uou

yoo

yo

Jesus Christ

YOU

cringe

:( 

-

Your boy isn’t one for romance and displays of affection, you know that. But you’ve had such an awful and weird day that you can’t brush off what he says like you normally would. It’s not even noon and yet everything that could throw you off the wheel emotionally has. Like they all took turns, throwing you off, dragging you back in, and repeating it until you were a nice, buttery consistency.

He’s busy though, work and schedules and being an idol, so you reply with your usual sad face and nothing else and take a nap. Naps always fix things.

-

241302 11:45am

jagi?

is everything okay?

have fun doing whatever it is then

i enjoy being around you most of the time!

-

241302 1:27pm

hannie showed me this video

well

he didn’t show me per se

he showed linohyung and i was being nosy

but anyways

it was this cat that was very small

has an outrageous win/loss ratio for hunts

i think you would like it!

it’s called a

sorry i had to ask hannie its name again

the black footed cat he says

-

241302 4:15pm

hihi

you havent texted all day

are you gaming again kkkk

i was going to come over but i dont want to interrupt

should i just stay and game with yongbokkie???

maybe if we play genshin i’ll see you

we can finally co-op!

-

241302 5:27 pm

ahh

youre not on genshin :(

are you playing something else

jagi?

hmmm

make sure you eat and use the bathroom kkkkk

you always forget when you get sucked in

-

You’re jolted awake by a very loud and rough knock on your front door. Also by the sound of your phone ringing incessantly. You answer the phone first.

“Hello?” Your voice is slightly panicked, no one ever calls you save for when it’s an emergency, so you’re half expecting someone to be dying or dead when you pick up. You’re halfway out of bed and scanning your floor for a pair of pants when the banging on your door stops and you register the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Did you change your lock?”

“Did I- Seungmin, what?”

“My key doesn’t work anymore.” He sounds like he’s pouting.

“The building changed it recently. Something about security measures or whatever.”

“Ah. Come open the door.” You’re opening the door as he says it, rubbing your eyes and blinking at him.

“Were you asleep?” He’s toeing his shoes off. He has something behind his back.

“Yeah.”

“Explains why you didn’t answer your texts, then. I got worried.” He kisses the side of your face.

“Seungmin, what on earth is in your hands right now?” He looks down.

“Keys and my phone.” You stare at him.

“The other one, genius.”

“Yes, I like to think I am. Thank you.” You keep staring. He sighs. He hands you a thing of your favorite candy with a note that says “more to follow” attached.

“It’s come to my attention-”

“Was it Chan? Or Changbin, this time?” He glares slightly.

“It’s come to my attention, and I realized this all on my own with no outside help-”

“Sure.”

“With some outside help-”

“Better.”

“That tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and some people enjoy being asked by their partners if they will participate.”

“Is this you asking?”

“I’m getting there!” He takes your hands the best he can while you’re still holding the candy and the note and looks at you again.

“I am sorry I didn’t ask sooner. I will ask sooner next year and the year after that and the year after that and so on and so forth. But!” He gets down on one knee. You kick him slightly with your foot.

“Unless you’re proposing, you better stand back up.” He stands back up.

“Will you be my Valentine?” You can feel your eyes water.

“If I have to.” You roll your eyes for show. Seungmin stands still for a moment.

“Is that how I sound to you?”

“Sometimes.” He raises an eyebrow. “Most of the time.”

“I am hilarious.” You roll your still-wet eyes as you open the candy.

“That’s not the whole gift.”

“I gathered, there’s a note that says so right here.” He huffs at you, giving you that deadpan stare again. He told you once that you’re one of the few people he’s met who can give and take his sarcasm in equal measures, you told him that was the nicest thing he’s ever said to you, he hit you with a pillow.

He doesn’t answer, instead he pulls you closer by the back of your neck and kisses you. Kissing Seungmin is always an experience, it always makes your head slightly fuzzy and makes your heart stutter in your chest. You think that if it was possible to die by kissing, you would’ve done it the first time you and Seungmin made out. As it stands, you just feel a little unsteady on your feet.

Seungmin pulls away and you catch yourself staring at his mouth, wet and pink and swollen just enough that it reminds you of when he had braces and his mouth was always slightly pushed out. He grabs your hand and leads you to your bedroom, placing his gifts for you somewhere on your dresser before he nudges you onto the bed.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” His hands are winding around your waist, pushing your shirt out of the way, and he’s kissing you again.

“You’ve told me before,” you say it against his mouth, hands coming to tangle in his soft, fluffy, recently dyed hair and you can feel the sigh he emits from where your chests are pressed together.

“Can I compliment you just once?” You smile, cheeky.

“No. Never.” He grumbles something about you being impossible as he tugs your shirt off, leaning down to mouth at your chest. You tug his hair lightly and he shoots a glare up at you.

“What.”

“It’s not fair that I’m not wearing a shirt and you are.”

“‘It’s not fair that-’ Be patient.”

“I thought this was a Valentine’s day gift.”

“It’s about to turn into a Valentine’s day ungift if you don’t stop.”

“What the fuck is an ungift?” He shoves his hand down your pants to shut you up.

“You always have to be so difficult,” you interrupt his sentence with a choked off moan. “Can’t ever just be good for me, can you? Always have to fight me every step of the way.” You shake your head at him, denying it.

“Don’t lie, you’re doing it right now. You’re lucky today is a holiday, or I really would turn this into whatever the opposite of a gift is.”

The tone shift would’ve given you whiplash if you had enough mental facilities left to think, or if this wasn’t so on par with what you expect from him. Seungmin likes to keep you on your toes, sometimes letting you push without any retaliation, sometimes letting you get away with nothing at all. It seems he’s more merciful today, and you pull him close for a “thank you” peck that soon turns into something more.

“Seungmin, please-”

“Desperate. You’re always so desperate.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Am I?” The hand that’s touching you slows down and you whine at him. “Am I being mean to you?” He tilts his head to the side, falsely curious and fully condescending. He adds a fake pout for good measure.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be apologizing after all. I should be nicer to you, shouldn’t I?” He’s cooing slightly at you, and you know he’s not being genuine, but you really just want him to go back to touching you like he was earlier, so you pout back and nod. He gives you a kiss on your downturned mouth and picks his pace back up.

Soon enough, you’re forgetting that he was ever being devious in the first place and then you’re spilling on his fingers. You’re brutally reminded when he keeps going, when he pins down your hands as they try to push him away, when he bullies his stupidly slender hips between your thighs so you can’t close them. It feels like your nerves are on fire, but at the same time you want more. You’re cumming again and tears spring to your eyes at the confusing sensation of too much and not enough and you can vaguely hear Seungmin mumbling empty platitudes at you through the sharp ringing in your ears.

There’s a brief pause where he shoves your bottoms and underwear off, mad about them being in his way, and then the confusing feeling is back again as his hand returns.

“Seungminnie, Seungmin, I can’t, I can’t.” You’re thrashing around hard enough that you’ve accidentally kicked the comforter off the bed.

“You can. I know you can. Just this last one, okay, baby? And then you can have whatever you want.” You know he would stop if you wanted him to, but you don’t really want him to. You want him to make you come a third time on his fingers and then you want to do it on his cock. His stupidly perfect cock.

Sometimes, when you’re busy waxing poetic about love and Seungmin and life, you think about how the two of you were most certainly made for each other. How Seungmin was made to fit you in all the ways that you were made to fit him and that whatever force brought you together made his cock with you in mind. The way it fits inside you and gives you that almost-too-full feeling without ever being too much always makes your head spin and you clench involuntarily at the thought of it even now. It doesn’t escape Seungmin’s notice, because of course it doesn’t, and he laughs a little at you.

He stops laughing when you come on his hand again, and eases you through it until you're twitching away from him and whining and then he’s kissing the space between your eyebrows and shucking off his own clothes.

You spend a minute just staring at him. He’s beautiful. You think he’s the most handsome and perfect man in the world and he has the audacity to walk around saying that he’s just “decent.” It’s moments like these where you finally understand what he gets all pissy about when you say you don’t like the way you look.

You’re drawn back into reality when you see him wrap one of his beautifully huge hands around his dick and you whine at him.

“What now?” The words are meant to be sharp but he’s too out of breath when he says them, so you brush it off.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted and I want your cock!” You sound petulant, even to yourself. “You can’t- Seungmin!” He huffs and drops his hand from himself and you can see his muscles tense with how hard he’s trying to give you what you want.

“Needy and desperate. You came three times and I can’t even come once before you’re begging for more.” He’s sliding into you as he says it, wincing as you tighten in sensitivity and stilling with the effort of not coming too soon. You nod at him anyways, finally agreeing to the things he’s saying. If he asked you to jump out of an airplane with no parachute right now, you’d probably say yes, as long as he would finally start fucking you.

“Mhm. Want you- want you all the time. Need you all the time.”

“Yeah? All the time?” His hips are sloppy and uncoordinated as he fucks into you, but you wouldn’t be able to handle much anyway with how sensitive you are, so you’re grateful that Seungmin has lost his composure.

“All the time.”

“Guess that makes you a slut then, hmm?” You huff, gathering as much of your shot coordination as you can to weakly hit him in the chest.

“No. Only want- I only want you.” He coos, softening.

“Yeah? Only me?” You nod. “Does that make you my slut then?” You shake your head. “No? What are you then, hmm?” You’re not sure, but you know that you love him, and the force of your love for him shakes every atom in your body if you think about it too long.

“I love you.” It’s all you can say, so it’s all that comes out of your mouth and Seungmin kisses your face because he can’t aim for a specific spot with how the two of you are moving and you know that he understands you because he always does.

“I love you, too. Love you so much. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” You let out a slight sob against his mouth and he shushes you.

“Pretty, you’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.” He’s muttering it against your skin, hips meeting yours over and over until you’re tightening around him with an orgasm that’s almost too much to handle and he’s spilling into you too.

There’s a moment where the two of you just sit there, panting and breathing each other’s air, stuck together with sweat and cum and Seungmin’s dick that’s still inside of you and then your lip is wobbling and tears are spilling hot and fresh down the sides of your face.

“Woah, woah what’s wrong? My dick game isn’t that bad, is it?” You shake your head at him and tug him down for a hug. He lets out a noise as he’s flattened against you and his face is smushed against the bed. He has to move his head to the side to avoid suffocating, so his breath is hitting the inside of your ear and you move your head away because it’s very uncomfortable. He wraps his arms around you the best that he can from your position and when his dick slips out, you whine.

“Listen, I would totally love to still be inside you right now, but I think my dick might fall off, so just gimme a minute, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I thought you forgot.”

“Forgot- oh. About Valentine’s? I might’ve forgotten to ask you to be my Valentine, but I didn’t forget about the holiday. I was actually strong-arming Channie hyung into letting me skip out on our schedules tomorrow. I was- I am, gonna spend the day with you.” His voice is low because of how close he is to your ear, but yours isn’t when what he says makes you cry harder.

“Everyone always forgets.”

“Not me. Not me, baby. I have to live up to my title of most dedicated boyfriend, I can’t just forget about holidays.”

“Who even,” your breath catches because of your tears as you start to calm down, “who even gave you that title?”

“It’s not important.”

“Seungmin.”

“... it was Hannie.” You let out another cry, but you’ve calmed down enough that this one is for show.

“I can’t believe,” your breath hitches again, “I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me for Han Jisung, ace of Stray Kids.”

“Yeah,” he turns his face flat. “I am, unfortunately. Sorry to break it to you.”

“That’s okay,” you turn your tear-stained face to look at him, smirk stretching across your mouth, “I’ll just go and date Stray Kids’ best vocalist. Bang Christopher Chan.” 

“Yah! You said you stopped having a crush on him!”

“And you said you wouldn’t leave me for one of your members!” He huffs and hides a smile in your shoulder as he moves to the side of you to hug you better.

“I love you. I really do,” he says. He’s moved your head to the side so you’re looking into his pretty brown eyes as he says it.

“I love you, too.” You do, you really do. You hope he can feel it from where he’s touching your skin. You hope he can feel it even when he’s nowhere near you. He smiles at you, and you think that he can. You think that he knows how much you love him and he loves you with the same sort of ferocity. You look at him and you think that romance isn’t doomed, and neither are you.

[vagabond-umlaut]

beckoning you, slowly, subtly

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart yearn stronger.

Or: Gojo grapples with himself in the wake of you preparing to leave Tokyo Jujutsu High– in the wake of you preparing to leave him.

▸ Gojo x Fem!Reader; Former Teacher x Former Student; Reader has graduated from high school and is moving overseas for college; Gojo is 24-ish while Reader is 18; He's such a sad pathetic boi here; You think Reader is better? She's worse; Angst and Fluff; Use of humor as a coping mechanism [until it fails]; Very soft character study

▸ I wrote this as a prequel set minimum 10 years before the fic 'ensnared' -> You need not read that to read this, though. This is a standalone fic, through and through! 😊

Gojo feels nothing towards you.

No, he doesn't. He really, truly bears no feelings, whatsoever their nature might be, for you.

But... if it indeed is so... then why the hell are his knuckles so hesitant to strike the wood of your door, eh?

Gojo stays in this position for a beat or two more, before dropping his fist back to his side. Exhaling a mute yet deep sigh as his gaze travels over the tiny flowers and trees painted on the door. Next moves to the shoe rack beside, filled with neat rows of sneakers and flats. And finally reaches the cheery yellow paper taped to the door, your name written on it in smooth letters–

Before he can even realise it, the sorcerer finds his fingers over it, so wary yet wanting as they traverse the lines and the loops of the letters, eliciting a very soft murmur of the same from within, the latter darting past a dry throat and a heavy tongue...

"Sensei!"

The door suddenly springs open. Of course, with no one but you behind it.

Were here anyone else except him, Gojo is certain, they would have jumped feet in the air in response. Good thing, he isn't just some 'anyone else'. The sorcerer quickly withdraws his outstretched hand to stuff it into his pocket. And grins, the way he always does when caught in contemplation.

Big. Bright. Happy. So much so that it will either puzzle, or better yet, piss the other person off, eventually making them leave him to his devices...

"Heyyy," he drawls, decidedly making a show of his infamous breezy image— jarringly contrasting the manner his Six Eyes study your once decorated–now empty room, "Packing and everything's done, wow. Thought I might visit you one last time before you leave for..." Australia, but he chooses not to say it. Breezy image, remember?

Borrowing a beat to think– to make you think he's thinking, that is– the man resumes with a noisy chuckle, "Before you leave for wherever you're headed. When's your flight, by the way? Tonight or tomorrow morning?"

Whatever reply he might have been expecting from you, two shiny eyes and one o-shaped mouth certainly weren't on the list... You're pretty swift to erase them, however. Wiping your sweater paws over your face, you mimic his posture and grin back.

Cheeky, obviously, but much too strained than the ones you've given him so far... Your amused voice intrudes on his quiet scrutiny of you. "Why, Sensei? Missing me from this moment itself, eh?"

"Nah," he shoots back with a dismissive wave of his hand. Noting then ignoring the stinging twinge in the middle of his chest— no matter the fractional fall in your features; no matter anything, everything. "I'm literally waiting for when you'll walk out the school's torii gates— even more for when your plane will take off the tarmac and leave Japan! I was stuck teaching you for the better part of the past four years. What makes you think I'll miss you, heh. I'll be incredibly relieved, if anything."

"Ah," you say, following a moment's pause, "I see."

Quite an unenthusiastic reaction, if he's being honest; Gojo doesn't mind it, though. Not in the slightest.

Not even when he watches you regard him, oddly intense and pensive for a while, before you return to clearing your desk. So neat and tidy and dead with no books nor pens nor stray sketches strewn over its surface. The same way the rest of the room now seems: dreadfully dreary and dull, now that you– you with your bubbly self, shining in this damned dark school, jujutsu world– is moving away–

Oh.

Oh no.

You're moving away.

Which is... okay. Yeah, it's okay. But, but, but– "When will you come back?" The question escapes the confines of his mind into the stillness of your room, soon joined by another– one he bites his tongue and draws blood for, the second it leaves his mouth.

The tiny quaver in the words betraying the steady front he has put on very well– Until now. Until you— Too bad [or maybe, good] you've always read him rather well– so much so that you whirl round the instant the sentence flies into the foot in between, your crumpled features meeting his crumbling mask.

"You will come back, right?"

"I–" you start, eyes brimming with the same tears you wiped away so insistently then; he never hears you finish your answer, however.

Two tiny hands fling themselves round his neck, and before he can realise it, the sorcerer finds himself bent at the waist, nose nudging your temple while your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, the collar of his jacket growing progressively wet with every passing second.

The man stops himself from returning your embrace— You were his student. He was your mentor. Your door is open. His Six Eyes sense Shoko and Utahime coming this way. He isn't meant for such empty shows of sentiment. He isn't sure if your gesture is as unfeeling as he hopes it is—

Screwing his eyes shut, he sighs. Yet offers no resistance when he feels your fingers unclasp from his shoulders then move to his hands, lifting them to keep them lightly on the small of your back.

Oh, well, whatever.

Gojo is still certain he feels nothing towards you.

Except, maybe, this steely resolve of his, engraving itself a cliff-like niche in his mind: To protect. To cherish this sweet feeling of you both in each other's grasp.

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

[noisyquokka]

Try Again

PAIRING - Hyunjin x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - After a short-lived relationship ends, Hyunjin struggles with the idea of “just friends”. Three years later, it seems you haven’t lost interest either.

WORDCOUNT - 2.9k

WARNINGS - lovers to friends to …., mutual pining, jealous!Hyunjin, a lil playful banter/angst that turns kinda steamy, kinda left open-ended... part 2 perhaps? 🤨

A/N - Literal WEEKS late, but uhhh… that’s never stopped me before! 🤭 My little addition for Hyune Day! Enjoy, Darlings! 💛

(Based loosely on Try Again - PRETTYMUCH cause I've been listening to it on repeat and it feels like a Hyunjin song to me, personally. I also wrote this to satisfy my insatiable love for watching him practice, cause let's be honest... choreographer!Hyunjin just hits different iykyk)

“Would you at least take some videos if you’re gonna bury your head in your phone?”

Your eyes sweep up to the shadow of the man who pauses his movement in the middle of the studio. Hyunjin straightens up, his fingers reaching for the brim of his hat. He pulls it off and runs his fingers through his dampened tresses, already sweaty from the past hour of practice.

“Well, excuse me, Hwang,” you mutter, resting your hand on your thigh. “I didn’t know I was summoned here to be your videographer.”

“You’re supposed to be critiquing my choreo so far.”

He’s been working on this choreo for his new solo, and while he didn’t expect you to drop in, he knows Minho has some part in you ending up here. Why? Because he was stupid enough to spill his feelings to him in full confidence that Minho would keep his mouth shut. One could say he kept his word, but still, he plays with fire in his process.

“Ah, right…” God, is it fun to ponder your next remark. You smirk as you watch him reach for the open water bottle near him. “Not enough sneaker squeaks.”

His hand pauses mid-drink, bourbon eyes cutting to your proud little grin. Your eyes are already back on the phone in your grip, tapping away like you’re texting someone. For a moment, Hyunjin is itching to know who it could be. But then he reminds himself that you’re not together anymore. He tilts his head slightly, tries not to let it bother him.

“You’re so unserious, my god,” Hyunjin mutters, and swipes at his forehead with a huff.

Your grin turns into a playful lip bite, and you can’t help but tease him a little.

“I’m being completely serious.” Your eyes find him again, and he exhales heavily. “The sneaker squeaks are an essential part of the performance. How will anyone memorize your routine if they can’t count the squeaks?”

“Okay.” He scoffs, pushing his hair back and putting his hat back on, swiftly turning back to his Bluetooth. You mock him with your typical Hwang Hyunjin voice, not noticing the way he shakes his head and smirks to himself.

Hyunjin taps the play button on his phone, taking a deep breath as he readies himself for another run-through.

It’s been hours since he started working on this specific number, and while the comeback wasn’t for a couple of months, he thought getting ahead of schedule would be nice. However, your being around brought on a difficulty to slip into the choreographer head space. Ever since his conversation with Minho, and Minho's comment about how you quote-unquote very well feel the same, I mean, have you seen the way they look at you?!, he’s been the embodiment of a goldfish in a bowl. He wishes things would’ve started off better because apparently, this lovers-to-friends plot line was only digging his early grave. Hyunjin’s fairly certain that after you two broke up, you only agreed to stay friends because you made good connections with the rest of the boys.

The rational side of him knows that’s not the truth.

Fucking less than five months and the metaphorical flames fizzle like a defective sparkler.

The only problem is that those feelings never fizzled for him. Even now, his heart stutters in his chest when you lock eyes with him. When you give him one of your little grins and cock your head as if to say you’ve won in the various dumb debates that you love to drag each other into.

Like right now.

“Seungmin agrees with me,” you say, standing up and shoving your phone at him right as he begins the dance. Hyunjin’s brows raise, blinking and tilting his head in a non-verbal question to get you to move.

“Seungmin agrees with you because it’s a dumb argument… and it’s you versus me.” he mutters the last part, watching you roll your eyes and backtracking to your spot.

“If you’re so confident in this, why am I still here?”

“You could leave,” Hyunjin says, his exertion making his comment sound harsher than he meant it to be. He locks eyes with yours in the mirror, his dark tresses falling in his line of sight. The smirk that threatens to quirk his lips sneaks in when you seemingly freeze on the spot, your eyes wider than usual. “I know you’ve got work in the morning.”

You’re mulling it over in your head now — a glimmer in your eye that Hyunjin pinpoints as he attempts to keep track of where he is in the choreography. He watches your eyes sweep to the phone, most likely checking the time. It’s roughly 1:00 am. You lock eyes again, the answer clear before you speak.

“Well, now I’m not leaving since you want me to.”

He gives a sardonic laugh, rolls his eyes as his foot slips and he misses a beat. Distractions…

“I didn’t say that,” he replies lowly, snatching the towel off the top of the stereo.

“You’re mumbling…”

“I said I didn’t say that,” Hyunjin speaks up, his hand bringing the fabric to his face to pat the sweat from his skin. You watch the drops of sweat as they drip off the ends of his hair when he pulls his hat off, and you feel the need to clear your throat. And then the towel is thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. All it has you doing is a double-take on the black tee shirt he’s wearing. The way it hugs his shoulders and chest should be outlawed, you think.

But then he reaches for the open bottle of water again, and you purse your lips. It’s another short swig, a singular drop of water escaping from the corner of his mouth. It travels down his chin, slowly slipping down the length of his neck, your eyes trained on the path it follows. It stops just before the collar of his black tee and you question why it’s suddenly hotter in the studio.

You swallow, forcing your gaze away and back to your phone before Hyunjin can witness any more of your blatant ogling. As you return your gaze to your phone, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You’re not embarrassed, not really, but the idea of getting caught sends your brain into overdrive.

“Still waiting on some critique I can work with~” he sing-songs, placing the bottle and towel back beside his phone.

“Maybe I don’t have anything to say,” you reply, and he chuckles.

“You?! With nothing to say? That’s a first.” He walks over, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest.

With the wave of feelings you’re dealing with, Hyunjin’s comment has you bristling. You glare up at him as he arches a brow at you as if challenging you to say something. That stupid smirk quirks his lips. Butterflies swarm in your gut.

“Fine, then.” You lean forward, propping your forearm on your knee as the two of you stare each other down. “You’ve been favoring your right leg through the entire first verse of the song, your hip rolls aren’t deep enough during the chorus, you seem undecided on whether the overall choreo should be slower or faster—” You list off each critique on your fingers, and while Hyunjin wanted your genuine criticism to work toward a better overall performance, he’s clocked out to what you’re saying. His eyes sweep over your face as you continue listing the things he could improve, and he grins at the way your eyes seem to glow in the studio lighting. A fire. Passion for the things he’s passionate about.

“—And another… thing…” Your voice drops to a surprised whisper almost instantly when you feel Hyunjin’s fingers curl under your chin, feather-light against your skin. You blink, realizing just how close he’s gotten, having bent down so his elbows rest on his knees. His head cocks slightly, tongue darting out to lick the corner of his lips. Brown eyes flicker down to yours a moment later.

“Another thing?” Hyunjin repeats, his tone a low murmur. His breaths mingle with yours, your heart beating erratically in such close proximity. His index finger runs the span of your jaw as he stares, a tangible connection that still feels natural and electric to him. A reminder of the silent tension that has always lingered.

The familiar scent of his cologne clouds your senses. It brings you back to the nights he used to spend at your apartment, with the two of you watching K-dramas until 3:00 am. Your bodies a mess of limbs in your bed, his distracting kisses up your neck until you’d try to playfully shove him away. He’d reach for your jaw to pull you in for soft kisses that would evolve into slow and lazy make-outs in his arms. Your eyes dart down at the reminder, and you mentally curse yourself.

“I, Uh.” you stammer out a few words before falling silent, your eyes fixated on his. The moment hangs in the air, the tension between you thick and palpable.

Something, something, boundaries… Something, something, self-control…

Hyunjin can’t help the sly grin, feeling the skin under his touch move when you swallow. All logic has left you in favor of longing for those familiar caresses you had years ago. It sure hasn’t changed, every subtle brush of his fingers ushers forth shivers down your spine. You are teetering on the edge of a cliff, the question being do you jump? You want to. Hell, with the way Hyunjin’s gaze keeps darting down, you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling the same way.

You attempt to regain control of yourself, but it’s futile — your focus is lost, distracted by the proximity of his lips. Fuck, is he leaning in…

“Your expressions.” You finally manage, the only lingering critique swirling around in your head. “They, uh, could be sharper…” You say, watching Hyunjin sharpen his gaze like a conniving fox. And like a trickster, his fingers drag from your jaw to your neck, dark eyes following its path until the steady thrum of your pulse halts his journey. Your eyes drink him in, lips parted as Hyunjin’s brow twitches in a knowing gesture.

We can���t do this, not after all this time.

The silence crackles with anticipation. You’re fairly certain that Hyunjin knows some part of this is dangerous cause he hesitates for a moment. But then he’s leaning in, his thumb tracing circles against your neck. You mirror his movements, so close that this sliver of distance feels like a challenge. Unspoken desire hums between you two, a heat that has always lingered, just waiting for the right moment to reignite.

Just friends…

The soft brush of Hyunjin’s lips against yours slams the factory reset on your thoughts, mental gymnastics be damned. The tension snaps like a rubber band. You finally give in, capturing his mouth in a meaningful liplock. It feels like no time has passed - he still kisses you with the same careful tenderness that he always has. That familiar heat runs through your body as you sink into him, chasing his lips when he pulls away for a split second only to recapture yours with a fervor.

Your phone is forgotten in your lap, hands sliding up his chest in a new wave of confidence. You pull him closer and Hyunjin groans softly, his free hand coming up to brace his weight against the wall behind you. Your mouths move together in a seamless rhythm, your kisses growing hungrier and more desperate. The brim of his hat grazes your forehead and you slip one of your hands higher into his hair, hooking your finger around the strap. It falls to the floor with a dull thud, allowing your fingers to rake freely through his dark tresses. A subtle pull that has him smirking against your mouth.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his fingers sliding from your neck to your jaw. Your lips part in a sigh as you both sit there on the floor of the dance studio, panting against each other’s mouths. Eyes closed, you feel his forehead rest against yours, your noses brushing. You bite your lip, savoring the warmth of his skin on yours.

“I’ve missed this,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too.” You murmur, lashes fluttering. God, what an understatement. You’ve been close even after you ended things, with friendly shoves and your usual back-and-forth banter. But the feel of his warm hands against your skin, the comfort of his close presence, his plush lips. This is what you’ve truly been craving.

His scent lingers in your lungs, his heart beating steady beneath your palm. You feel Hyunjin’s fingers knead the skin of your jaw, tilting your head up so he can come back for another chaste kiss that soothes the ache in your chest. He pulls back, pressing his lips to your forehead as he shifts to sit beside you on the studio floor, his back to the wall. You lean back, resting your head against the wall, your eyes locked on the ceiling.

Silence… as comfortable as it’s always been with the man beside you, you despise it right now. It only has you in your head after both of your confessions. What does it mean for you two?

Your gaze wanders back to his. Only those browns are already looking back, a softness in them that has always been there when they’re looking at you. Hyunjin gives you a half grin, reaching out for your nearest hand and slipping his fingers between your own. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you both sit there, minutes passing by.

“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” Hyunjin’s voice shatters the silence, staring up at the ceiling.

“We should be running through what not to do when you stay friends with your ex right about now,” You’re half joking, but your tone is more tense than nonchalant. Hyunjin laughs under his breath, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You don’t look at him, but you feel him squeeze your hand lightly.

“You should know how difficult it is to stay friends with an ex.”

“Oh, is it?” A small huff escapes your mouth, and you steal another glance, licking your lips.

“You don’t need me to tell you why, do you?” Hyunjin replies, his voice a low murmur. His head turns to you, his gaze fixed on your lips as you bite at them nervously. “You could have cut all contact with me. You could have moved on and we would have gone our separate ways…”

“I didn’t want to do that.” You admit. Your fingers twitch in his palm, pads running over small callouses and lines as you try to distract yourself with something. Anything. His hand wraps around yours again, squeezing firmer this time. A gesture of reassurance.

“I didn’t either.”

You swallow, picking your gaze off your entwined hands, and your heart skips a beat when you meet his eyes.

“We’re gonna have to decide what this is, aren’t we?” You say, the words sounding more serious than intended. Hyunjin does respond immediately. He just stares, his eyes awash in a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher. He breathes in, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah…” He says, his voice low and steady. The weight of that realization settles on his chest, but Hyunjin shakes his head and offers you a genuine grin. “Maybe after a good night’s rest.”

“And a shower.” You smirk, pulling away from him in a joking fashion. But he pulls you back into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You screw your face up and he rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t hear you complaining with my lips on yours just a moment ago.” He teases, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You huff a laugh, leaning back against him.

“Hard to complain when you’re a good kisser.” you counter, bringing a hand up to his shoulder.

“Ah, couldn’t forget that over the years?” Hyunjin mutters, a hint of playfulness in his tone. His lips connect to the junction of your jaw, slowly trailing kisses down the hollow of your neck. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blade, your lashes fluttering over your cheeks.

“I don’t think I ever could.”

Your words send a rush of satisfaction through him and he nips at the sensitive skin just behind your ear. This closeness and playful back and forth is what he’s missed. A comfort that he never wanted to let go of. Even now, as the clock nears 2:00 am.

You capture his face in your hands and pull him back up with little argument, your thumb tracing the corner of his lips.

You don’t realize he’s leaning in again until you feel his lips on yours. It’s a slow and tender kiss this time, but the passion behind it burns hot. You revel in the subtle way he pulls you in, his hand falling off your shoulder to find purchase at your lower back.

Hyunjin eases up, and you’re left breathless yet again, your heart thumping in your chest.

“You gonna be able to sleep after this?” He asks, a sly grin curling his lips.

“Old habits die hard…” You breathe, pulling him in once again.

Psst!! If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[heliads]

Lisa my love! I hope you don’t mind me sending another request (for none other than Jack Wilder again of course) — but how about a Jack x reader meet-cute situation, maybe she’s a barista at the coffee shop he likes to visit, and he definitely thinks she’s more than cute but reader is a little oblivious to that fact. But she doesn’t recognise him at first, (i can imagine a co-worker going “GIRL that was Jack Wilder!” and she’s like “who now?”). Jack ends up becoming a regular and the two get to know each other outside of the coffee shop setting (I’m also imagining he’d try to teach her card tricks and it’d just be so !!!!!! absolute fluff). Sorry, this request doesn’t have a SINGLE coherent thought in it, it’s literally so silly but I love this man bfhvdjhfvdn

anything for the boy

'wake me up' - jack wilder

masterlist

Nothing has ever made you want to drink coffee less than working in a coffee shop. Whether or not you’ll actually stop is purely up to your own moral strength, of course, but you’re reminded daily of why you would make such a choice whenever you clock in to your latest shift at your local coffee shop. The sight of so many exhausted people who seem to prefer snapping at you to actually taking accountability in their own lives is depressing, to say the least. 

Still, you keep working there. You always do. It’s satisfying in itself, as far as jobs go, and your coworkers are funny enough that the time always passes faster than expected. It’s not bad. And sometimes, on rare days like today, you end up meeting someone with the power to change your life forever.

The funny thing is, you almost missed him. The shop was crazy busy when he came in. You would find out later that the people were only crowding into the shop and lining up down the block because of him, but you hadn’t known that at the time. You had just chalked it up to word of mouth, maybe enough people had finally appreciated the expert level of care you and your coworkers put into their lattes and decided to show up and see what’s what. 

You certainly hadn’t counted on the cute boy who came bounding through the door of your shop, sending the bell fixed to the top into a commotion matching the hubbub surrounding the tables inside. Your first thought was that he seemed energetic enough that ordering coffee was unnecessary. Your second thought, as he breezed up to you, ready to order, was that you certainly didn’t mind your job anymore if it brought you faces as pretty as his. 

For a complete stranger, he seemed very sure of himself. He had paused for a moment before speaking, as if waiting for you to burst into applause at the sight of him. When it became clear you weren’t going to fall into raptures, he just shrugged and rattled off his order. The words were perfectly cadenced, probably memorized. You wrote it down like normal. Routines can be tedious on both ends, even if two perfect strangers are meeting for the first time. Sometimes, you don’t know that the course of your life has been irrevocably affected until much later. You certainly didn’t know it then.

You had guessed that something was strange, though. You had asked what name he wanted with the order and the young man had blinked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t fathom the possibility that you wouldn’t know who he was. You’re familiar with the regulars of the coffee shop, so you knew he wasn’t one of them. Still, he seemed so stunned that you didn’t recognize him already. In a good way, though. With the way he smiled at you as he said, “Just Jack, thanks,” you got the feeling that he thought quite a lot about you was good.

Jack’s order wasn’t too complicated, so you were able to finish it quickly, which he seemed to appreciate. Even after he moved out of line to wait for his coffee, Jack had still hung around the counter, eyes nervously darting around the room as if he expected someone to jump out at him. From the few glances you were able to sneak as you poured and mixed ingredients, you almost thought he was right to worry. All these tables of girls kept whispering and giggling to each other, staring back at him with this outright, unusual intensity.

You had no idea why he was seemingly being stalked by so many people, but he was cute, so maybe that would do it. There’s a college campus across town, maybe he was on a varsity athletics team or something. You called his name and several people perked up. No one looked happier than Jack, though, and he eagerly slid over to you so he could pick up his drink.

You raised an eyebrow at his excitement, unable to hide a small smile. “Really looking forward to that coffee, huh?”

Jack had the presence of mind to blush a little. “I just want to hit the road as soon as I can.”

You took an obvious look past him. “I think I can understand that. What did you do, announce that you’d be giving away free kittens or something?”

Jack chuckled, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head. “Not quite. Do you– do you not know who I am?” He gave this pained half-laugh as he said it, like he could tell that saying something like that didn’t make him come off as the nicest.

He was cute enough that it worked, though. Cute and charming. He could get away with anything. Later, you’d learn that he usually did.

“No,” you said, and his entire face had lit up. Strange. “I’m not a mind reader,” you reminded him, “I won’t know your name unless you tell it to me.”

“Well,” he had said slowly, “I won’t mind saying it again. Maybe tomorrow morning?”

You had laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

Jack had all but beamed at you, turning around to smile at you one last time right before exiting the shop. You’d watched him go with a soft smile, shaking your head to yourself as you headed back to get the next customer’s order.

When you started mixing up the next drink, though, one of your coworkers turned to you, practically shrieking in your ear with the force of her excitement. “Am I dreaming, or was that Jack Wilder?”

You glanced at her, confused, as you reached for the oat milk. “Who?”

Your coworker’s eyes widened in horrified shock. “You must be joking. Jack Wilder? Of the Horsemen?”

You had frowned at her. “Like the four that bring about the apocalypse? He seemed nice enough to me, I doubt he’s going to bring pestilence or death upon our coffee shop.”

Your coworker had shaken her head, her eyes flickering briefly shut as if praying for strength. “No, Y/N, the Horsemen are a world famous group of magicians. They’re like, crazy good. During a show, they once robbed a bank on the opposite side of the globe.”

“So they’re criminals,” you muttered, eyebrows raised, “They sound like lovely people, then. Should I check the credit card he paid with? Maybe it was a playing card instead and I didn’t notice.”

She rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t do that, obviously. They’re like magical Robin Hoods, they only steal from banks and bad rich people and stuff like that. Jack Wilder is a celebrity, if that’s what it takes to get through to you. He’s like, the hottest one of all of them.”

“That I can agree with,” you had grinned to yourself. He was really good looking, and sweet at the same time. 

You found yourself sincerely hoping that he would come back the next morning, although the odds of that had to be low. If Jack really was a world-class celebrity, he’d probably jet across to a new country by the end of the day. He probably wouldn’t stay in one place that long, especially given the questionable legality of his day job. Coming back to the same small coffee shop was practically out of the question.

And yet, when you open up the next morning, you find yourself idly glancing outside the front window every few minutes, constantly checking to see if there’s a cute magician slipping inside your shop. Each peek down the street is rewarded with the sight of faces that aren’t his, though that doesn’t stop you from looking again.

Eventually, you decide that he’s not coming after all and there’s no point in continually craning your neck to see past the people huddled outside the main window, trying to talk themselves out of purchasing a pastry. It is only now, when you let down your guard, that you see someone approaching the counter out of the corner of your eye and announce, as if this were some great, life-changing thing:  “I’m back.”

For anyone else, this would be obnoxious. However, the cute boy beaming at you did make you a promise, so it is quite important that he would be here to honor his word. You end up smiling back at him in silence for a beat too long. It takes your coworker pointedly looking at the line growing behind Jack for you to remember yourself.

“Right, right. Coffee. What can I get you this morning?”

He looks bashfully behind him, as if only realizing that it’s not just the two of you in here, too. “Um, maybe a double shot vanilla latte? Oh, and can you draw something on the top?”

You hum as you write down the order. “Any ideas, or is the art my choice?”

Jack winks at you. “I’d love your number, but that might be too long. How about a heart, since you’ve already got mine?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but you do your best to keep your cool. “That’s sweet. Do you flirt with all your baristas like this?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he promises. Maybe Jack’s magic isn’t just in card tricks, but in his smooth moves as well. 

As he turns around to find someplace out of the way to wait for his drink, your coworker openly stares at you, jaw dropped. “What was that?” She asks under her breath, grinning.

You just shrug, although you can’t seem to stop your lips from curling up into a poorly hidden smile. “No idea.”

Jack thanks you for his drink when it’s ready. You weren’t brave enough to give him your number, assuming he was just joking around. He’s a celebrity, you remind yourself. He could probably conjure up Margot Robbie’s number if he really wanted it. He’s not going to go for you if he could have anyone on the planet.

However, when you slide over his coffee and he immediately checks the design in the foam, pretending to pout when he sees no identifying string of digits, you start to wonder if he wasn’t kidding after all. It certainly seems that way when he shows up the next morning, and the next morning, and the next. Jack is turning into a regular, which you didn’t expect. You figured he would sweep from city to city like the rest of the Horsemen, but for some reason Jack seems inclined to stay.

He insists on getting your number about a week later, and says he won’t leave the shop until he gets it. He pretends to handcuff himself to the chair of his favorite spot, pulling the metal cuffs out of thin air and grinning at your surprised reaction. You make him stay there, locked in place, for a few more minutes just to mess with him, but in the end he walks out with your number, and when you leave that night, you find a card tucked into the pocket of your apron. 

It’s the queen of hearts, although the image is less entrancing than the phone number scrawled across the front. Just in case I lost yours by accident, says the note on the back. You press it to your heart, trying to stop yourself from audibly squealing. You had promised that you wouldn’t fall for him, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to keep your word. 

Especially not when you get a text some time later that night:  Get home safe? Then:  This is Jack. Although I hope you wouldn’t be confusing my number with other handsome men who also wanted to see you.

In the safety of your room, you’re free to lightly kick your heels back and forth like a kid with a schoolgirl crush. No other admirers. Just you.

Just the way I like it, is the answer, practically only a few heartbeats after your text. You might actually end up loving him if he’s not careful.

Jack comes in the next morning looking far too pleased with himself. In fact, he even goes so far as to ask when you get off work that day. He says he wants to see you without other customers getting in the way. You remind him that he, too, is a customer, and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, asking if you want him to be something else. You don’t deign to respond to that, but you think your self-conscious smile does enough talking. He certainly laughs like it does.

Jack ends up taking you out to lunch. He makes you laugh the whole time, looking proud of himself every time he manages to elicit so much as a smile from you. He tells you stories about all the fantastic jobs he’s taken as a Horseman, even attempts to teach you a card trick or two. Several dropped decks later, both of you can freely admit that he’s got more of a knack for sleight of hand than you, but his hands have been over yours in the name of teaching his trade often enough that neither of you much mind.

It’s getting harder and harder to pretend that this is just a game to him. You do ask him once, as he’s dropping you off at your door, if he really does want this. You. Everything. Jack looks softly at you once, eyes containing all the secrets he couldn’t possibly put into words if he tried, and then he kisses you sweetly, slowly, and you know. Jack Wilder could have the whole world in his hands, but as it turns out, the only thing he wants from it is you. He’ll convince you of that as often as it takes. You can’t wait to watch him try.

requested by @hiya-itsamber, i hope you enjoy!

now you see me tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[st4rc4t]

everything about you eddie munson x reader

wc: 700

cw: fluff, bomb mention but its a metaphor, kinda rockstar!eddie but the band still isnt super popular yet

a/n: you might recognise this i wrote it for . someone else . a long time ago but i rewrote it for eddie :3

As soon as he was away from the crowd, you were all over him. Quite literally. An arm wrapped tightly around his, his hand gently holding yours. He was always gentle, said he didn’t wanna “crush your chicken bones.” Whatever that meant. Still, it was sweet.

You just couldn’t stop staring at him. His huge proud smile as he talked to friends, flushed face and long sweaty hair stuck to his skin. You admired him the whole walk to the bar. A couple times while walking, he’d turn from conversing with a bandmate, or someone else, you weren’t really paying attention. He'd stop talking just to ask how you were doing.

Besides the copious amounts of praises you shouted at the band as soon as they came off stage, you were shockingly silent for having just watched them play. You had always felt the need to compliment him and the group for days afterwards, so your silence slightly worried him. Each time he asked, you’d just give him the most love sick smile he's even seen, and respond with something along the lines of, “absolutely perfect, my love.'' When you finally get to the dingy bar and have the chance to sit down, he turns his full body towards you to have a proper conversation. Sat in the middle of a round booth, one arm above you and the other on the table, effectively caging you in. Upon making undivided eye contact with him, you make a strangled squeal sound. slapping your hand over your mouth, you’re embarrassed of your unbridled want.

“What is going on with you,” he questions with an amused smirk, reaching to remove your hand from your face, “barely said a word since we left the venue.”

“You did so, so good,” you responded with big doe eyes. It definitely wasn't an answer to his question.

“You've said that already, my darling, thank you very much,” if he hadn’t known any better he would think you were already drunk, “but really, i’d like an answer to the question.”

you huff through your nose, and look at him for a moment longer, trying to collect your thoughts. Trying to explain that nothing is wrong, he is just so incredibly sexy that you feel like you’re a ticking time bomb. The anxiety of waiting for something to happen but he’s already right there, so, so close to you. It's almost too much. You’re afraid if you let your body do what it wants, you will get so affectionate, it appears violent to outside eyes. He can see the gears turning behind your eyes, and gives you another moment longer to collect yourself.

“you are,” you pause to take a breath in, speaking slowly, “so, incredibly special to me. I can not even believe how looking at you makes me feel. I don't even think I could...point out individual things, it is everything about you. I love you so much,” you release an exhale, as though the time bomb inside finally exploded, and you were finally able to release at least some of the pent up emotion.

He stares back at you, almost in shock. He knew you loved him. You say it to each other at least once a day, but he had never seen you in such a love-drunken state. A huge smile spreads on his pretty face, cheeks sore. Already riding the high of an incredible show, his insides were on fire. He was so warm, so grateful to have you on top of his already wonderful life. He didn't think it could get any better until he fell in love with you.

He cradles your face in his warm hands, radiating as much sweetness and need as you are. Kisses quickly cover every centimeter of your face. You’re laughing instantly, so beautiful and light, like down feathers dancing around his heart. Small incomplete mumbles of “I love you” and “So happy to have you” escape as he dotes on you.

The other members of Corroded Coffin are gagging playfully amongst themselves. Steve and Robin just awe silently at the display, reminiscing on younger days, appreciating how far everyone has come.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch25 dvd commentary

Inspired by @cloud-harasser's ask, some dvd commentary of the latest chapter. No idea how I'm gonna be structuring these, so we'll just meander aimlessly until I settle on a format!

Favorite line: "The crown he had so coveted, she mused, had come to wear him." (Rhaenys)

Mostly because there's so much behind it. Obviously there's Rhaenys's own bitterness over the Great Council and her belief that Viserys's rule has weakened their family. But also how it has, in many ways, weakened Viserys himself. His health, his happiness, his relationship with his family. The crown consumes, if you are not strong enough--and perhaps even if you are.

In general Viserys + the weight of his crown is a subtle (or perhaps not!) theme in the chapter:

"He gladly forgot his crown when it did not suit him, only to brandish it like a sword when it did..."

"Viserys looked from Daemon to her, and then back, closing both hands around his cane, as though it were a scepter."

"His hand found his hair, as though to push back the weight of his crown, his sigh loud in the sudden quiet of the room."

"If Viserys decided to take his supper with only his crown for company, that was his own choice."

The crown constantly isolates and wearies Viserys, which is why he's constantly trying to put it down, and be just Viserys: a brother, a cousin, an uncle, a father. But to Rhaenys's point, he only puts it down and picks it back up when it suits him.

(I always worry that people think I dislike Viserys or am going out of my way to make him unlikeable, but honestly I find his struggle to be a very compelling one.)

Favorite moment: A toss-up between Rhaenys reaching for the wine to deal with this bullshit and Daemon comforting Jon by the hearth.

Favorite dynamic: Rhaenys and her cousins. Rhaenys's viewpoint of them is somewhat frozen in time (moreso Daemon than Viserys), but it's still pretty accurate. Since this story is very Daemon+Jon+Rhaegar-focused, we usually see Daemon in a very positive light, OR we see him as the ultimate villain from Alicent and Otto's POVs. Rhaenys is a fun middle ground. She is able to call attention to / muse upon his faults while still remaining fond of him.

"Quick" hitters:

This was one of the more frustrating/difficult chapters for me to write, because it took me a while to settle into Rhaenys's voice. Her POV is one of the most heavily edited scenes I've done.

I went back and forth between two versions of the boys' disappearance. There's a natural pause in the Viserys-Rhaenys-Daemon conversation (when they're talking about the Princesguard and also the Stepstones) where you could slip a scene break in. I wrote it originally from Rhaenys's POV, which is what we ultimately got, but I also partially wrote it from Jon's before deciding it was stronger to have Rhaenys's perspective. We'll save the secret passage spelunking for another time!

I originally had Jon bestow the name of his hatchling in this chapter when he introduced him to Rhaenys, but this wasn't really the appropriate place for Daemon + Rhaegar to react to it, so it got moved to 26, which is all about dragons! (The chapter is literally called "Dragonkeeping"!)

It's subtle, but Rhaegar latches on to Rhaenys hard as the first Targaryen woman he's encountered. Hugging her almost choked him up, and he was upset when she announced she'd be leaving soon.

Cut partial Jon POV scene in the secret passages (standard disclaimer that this is raw/unedited lol:

“Are we lost?” What Rhaegar had assured him was a five minute walk through tunnels beneath the holdfast to emerge in a small crypt on the edge of the garden—one of many for Queen Rhaenys, whose body had never been returned to her homeland—had become fifteen minutes of navigating tunnels that ended abruptly or in doors locked behind chains, or switches that did not work. “Much has changed,” Rhaegar said, fixing the latest dead end with a betrayed glare. “Or changed after, I suppose. Some of the tunnels must have been extended later, and chains removed.” He frowned in thought. “During the Dance, perhaps? It is not known how Aegon escaped the Red Keep.” Their plan to sneak to the king’s chamber in support of their father, exchanged in hushed whispers in Princess Rhaenyra’s chambers, was beginning to look doomed to failure. Jon followed Rhaegar back to their current tunnel, where his brother exhaled in frustration. Their hatchlings, who were entertaining themselves by zipping along the dark corridors, did not seem to mind. In fact, they seemed to rather enjoy the cave-like interior of the rougher-hewn spaces. Rhaegar held his torch up, their only source of light, turning to peer down each side of the tunnel. “There is a small passage near the tunnel to Flea Bottom that leads to the Queen’s Ballroom within Maegor’s Holdfast. I did not want to use it, because we will have to cross most of the holdfast to reach the king’s chamber. We will be spotted before we reach it.” “How far?” Jon asked. “Another ten minutes. We are on the opposite side of the Red Keep right now, nearer to the Tower of the Hand.” Jon grimaced. By the time they reached it, Laenor would almost certainly have raised an alarm, but the same was true of returning to the passage leading to Rhaenyra’s chamber. Then he remembered Rhaegar’s story from before. “Aren’t we near where the dragonglass mosaic is? Beneath the Tower of the Hand?” Rhaegar turned to him in surprise. “You wish to see it now?”

[samyanggs]

Heyyyyy! Can you please write hcs about Thor, Loki and Poseidon with a human s/o who is wise beyond her years and is perfectly fine with her own mortality and human nature, she is easy-going and gets along with literally anyone, doesn't expect anything in return from her boyfriend despite them being powerful deities and doesn't ask them for stuff, being completely fine with just spending time with them. Bonus points if you include something along the lines of "Don't you want to become a deity?" "Why would I? I like being me and that includes all my faults and virtues". Thanks!!! Sending you lots of love and hugs!!!

Hihii! Yea I can do those and thanks for the love and hugs! I’m currently having nausea, migraine, slight dizziness and a stomachache so I’m sorry if this is bad or isn’t what you’re looking for I’ve also never wrote Poseidon before so sorry for ooc

Warnings: none

Don’t be afraid to reach out to me for any reason, you can ask me questions about me and request smth for me to write or you can js ask me a question you’d like for me to answer!

“My mind is well beyond my years..”

Thor

You were.. odd.. you were a human yet wise and smart beyond your mortal years. That must’ve been why Thor had been attracted to you, the moment you showed your intelligence. A few weeks into your relationship he started noticing how you were definitely much more smarter than the average mortal of your age. People also flocked to you because you got along with everyone with no problems. He questioned you, curious. You were both relaxing, eating dinner together like he has asked you too and you complied. It was silent, just how you both liked it- that was until he spoke.

“Don’t you want to become a deity?” He asked, out of the blue. He bit into his food and chewed it, looking at you expectantly for your answer.

You chuckled before shaking your head. “Why would I? I like being me and that includes all my faults and virtues. I can’t control what I am so there’s no point in wishing that I could be one when I’m not one.” You replied simply, going back to eating your food silently. He blinked, nodding slowly.

He looked back down to his food and continued eating, smiling softly. You really were wise beyond your mortal years.

Loki

He, as a god, always thought that the ones who could be wiser than any other human would be the gods. Oh, how he was proven wrong the moment you came and showed your fantastic and amazing intelligence. You were wiser than anybody that was the same human age as you. And he dare say that you were wiser than some of the gods. He was immediately attracted to you the moment you showed your intelligence. Many people, and he means many, could get along with you easily. You were smart and you could interact with people even better. You were definitely if not, his type. But he always found himself wondering why you never wished to become a deity. So he decided to ask you while you both were in his room. You were reading a book while he was playing a game.

“Don’t you wanna be a deity?” He asked eyes fixated on the screen, moving quickly between you and the screen.

You looked up from your book and looked at him “Why would I? I like being me and that includes all my faults and virtues.” You said, smiling softly at him. “I can’t control what I am so there’s no point in wishing that I could be a deity when I’m not one.” You said going back to reading your book.

Loki paused his game and turned to look at you. He blinked slowly before going back to his game, unpausing it. He chuckled softly. You really were wiser than your mortal years and more selfless than many gods and humans.

Poseidon

If you told Poseidon that he was going to court with a human in the future, he would’ve ignored you with a hint of distaste on his faces . He supposes that he couldn’t do that now, after courting a human.. who was much wiser than humans and (some) gods alike— the reason why he thought that you were worthy enough for him to look at you. While he was reserved, quiet and disliked other people, you were the opposite. You were extroverted, polite and liked people. You got along with everyone while he didn’t. he supposed that, that’s what they mean by opposites attract. He does question why you don’t want to become a deity despite your own strengths and personality. So he decided to question you one day while you both were together.

“Why don’t you want to become a deity?” He asked, looking at you. He rested his cheek on his fist waiting for your answer with that same cold expression on his face.

You looked at him, unfazed by his coldness. “Why would I? I like being me and that includes all my faults and virtues. I also am not able control who and what I am, therefore there is no reason for me to wish to become a deity when I’m not one.” You answered calmly.

He blinked at you slowly and nodded, his cold expression turning into one of confusion and acceptance. He smirked to himself quietly. He really did choose a wise partner to court.

[passionproject1]

We were 12. The coolest boy in my school just couldn’t stop talking about the newest coolest game he was playing online. He sat in the back of the lime coloured room, surrounded by the remaining class B boys, the beta boys, his gang, his little followers, who were carefully listening to his monologue. Every few minutes he would interrupt his speech to violently whip his head to the right in order to arrange his fringe into a perfect emo/justin bieber formation. “Minecraft,” was the name of the game, I wrote it in the back of my notebook and carried it home. That night I sat on my favorite deep emerald chair researching the game further, preparing to beg my dad to buy it. I had already downloaded the free version but I wanted to make an avatar and you could only access that feature if you paid. This purchase was essential to flex on my boy classmates. Finally dad said yes and let me use his card. I immediately canceled guitar hero night with the girls, ready to explore the pixelated expanse of Minecraft.

My new name was Yumomo, a random japanese sounding name I thought of. My outfit was green and pink with a frog hat, a skin I stole from some minecraft website because I thought it was cute. I jumped into my solo world but quickly found it too isolating, so I checked the list of best polish Minecraft servers. The one I chose was RPG themed and as I later found out was made up entirely of male players. In 2011, Minecraft hadn’t broken into the gamer girl realm yet, hardly into the youtube gamer realm either. Back then it was only played by indie game nerds and basement dwellers, not 12 year old polish girls. So for the moment I was the queen of my server and officially (PAUSE) “not like other girls.” I remember that first day when they all saw my skin, girly and pink, and wrote “are you actually a girl” into the chat. To prove it I had to join a group call on team speak 3, some proto discord gamer tool. Before I logged on, I practiced what I would say using a voice recorder on my dads phone. I tested different variations of the name introduction, different “Hello’s,” “i am’s”, and “my name is,” to come up with the cute maxxed ideal version of the internet girl they were about to meet. I nervously turned on the app, shouted at my younger sister to shut up and just as I was about to say the magic girl code into the hormonal ears of boy teens I heard one of boys say “hey, maybe next time mute your speaker before you shout at your sister.” My heart dropped, I shut the laptop and sat in silence. (pause for impact) My eyes started to water. I wasn't a cool girl in real life and now I couldn't even be a cool girl online. It was doomed from the start, over before it even started. The brutal reality of the boy world came crashing down on me all because I didn't know how to use speak3. Little did I know this lack of speak3 proficiency made me meet my first boyfriend.

His real name was Antoni, I don’t remember his minecraft name. After my pulse had cooled down and I turned my laptop back on, a private chat request from him appeared on the side of the teamspeak3 app. He typed “siemasz” which is a word for hi in polish that literally no one uses in Poland. He also wrote something along the lines of “Don’t worry, sorry for them laughing, I was stressed before I talked online for the first time too” and that comforted me. He wasn’t like one of the bad, annoying smelly boys, the “girls are too dumb to understand the computer” and “girls are too emotional we shouldn’t play with them” preacher preteens, he wasn’t the intimidatingly-different-than-the -girls type of boy that I was in contact with at school. He acted like you want them (boys) to act, he had the qualities of an anime protagonist, he saved me from further teamspeak ridicule and he spared me from feeling like an idiot on my own. He invited me to play on his and his brothers private server first just to ease me gently into the whole situation. I accepted and spent the entire night playing just with him. And when he called, on Skype instead of teamspeak3, I answered with my camera turned off but my mic on, and we chatted. We ended up chatting like that, with both of our cameras off, playing on minecraft servers with countless other people - and sometimes just on our own - for almost a year. He slipped into my routine and broke my boy interaction shyness. Every day I was looking forward to our evenings of playing minecraft, and every time I was too busy to talk to him i would feel sad.

The Day before Christmas I was at the airport about to fly to England when my Yellow samsung corby received a message from him. It was a confession of his love to me, long and sincere, “I don’t care that I have never seen your face, I like speaking to you, I like spending my time with you and I would like to meet you.” He also mentioned that we should exchange pictures. I had butterflies in my stomach reading the sentences. For hours on the plane I kept rereading the text and trying to imagine what he looks like. I tried to vibe-match looks in my mind to his smooth, low but still youthful and boyish voice. I pictured him towering over me, with a swooping side fringe and a cool Cropp hoodie. I thought about us kissing for the first time, my girlfriends being jealous, my dog excited at the sight of him during one of his monthly visits. As soon as I got to my mums house I went on to try to vibe-match my looks to my sweet voice I was using to seduce him for the past year. Did I really suit my own vibe? There was a lot to perfect in my looks and I didn’t feel confident that I could fully embody the girl he must have been imagining. I pulled up the video of my idol venus angelic and with the limited makeup my mum owned I tried to recreate her vibe. Big anime eyes, intense blush, gradient lips. I put on my blue denim hair bow and took a selfie on photo booth. I covered one side of my face with my hand. I felt myself. The following evening whilst we were chatting with our cameras off and our mics on we sent each other the pictures. Surprisingly he looked similar to what i had imagined for him: golden retriver as a boy, slightly wavy gold hair with a little side fringe, awkward cute smile,acne, skinny and tall-presenting. According to him I looked how he imagined too, cute and girly. The next stop of video talking hadn’t been suggested by either of us. We were just happy to continue chatting with a vague image of ourselves in our heads, because it didn’t really matter what we looked like. Our relationship was online so it was functioning according to online gaming friends rules. As long as the arrangement remained online, we didn’t need anything more.

At least I didn’t for now.

One spring day Antoni asked me if I was planning to go to Pyrcon, a massive anime convention that is organised in his city, only 2 hours away from where i lived. I said I would probably be there. The truth was I knew I would definitely be there, in fact me and my friend had been planning our outfits for months. For some reason giving a definite answer, knowing the question that would follow felt too overwhelming. He asked, all excited, if I wanted to meet up in real life and I said yes with equal excitement. In reality, something told me that I didn’t want to meet him. Not because I was worried that he wasn’t real, that he was a catfish, but because I was worried that I’d be too real for him, with my chubby face, little stumpy legs, feet dressed in two different shoes. I was scared of holding his real hand and kissing his mouth, the inevitable teenage intimacy that seems so sweet in theory but ends up awkward in practice. I was happy for us to continue our love in the virtual world we created.

I couldn’t sleep the night prior to the convention. This day was about to change the trajectory of my life and the future felt more dreadful than exciting, though my friends kept trying to ease my stresses. I didn’t want to ruin the excitement for him, so the whole journey to the con I played along, at times experiencing waves of real excitement, followed by the gut wrenching anticipation of failure and disappointment. I was dressed in my frog outfit and did my makeup as well as i could. My emergency nicholas cage mas, a sign that I was a fan of the webcomic Homestuck, was poking out of my NANA tote bag. For some reason, just having the mask in my bag was an anti-anxiety shield. At previous conventions, I would wear it when the pressure of being surrounded by so many people felt like too much and I was too young to numb the angst with drugs and alcohol.

We arrived at the convention. The nasty stress feeling had been growing increasingly throughout the day, from the moment I got out of bed to the second I set foot in the con. It was by my side wherever I went, causing my eyes to scan every corner in the search for him and his brother. I had to be prepared at all times to pull out the mask, in case he came too close and recognised me. I was undercover in his kingdom. A surprise meeting was not likely, considering the 5000 people in attendance, but regardless I couldn’t allow it to be an option. Our real meeting was meant to take place at some anime panel, later in the day. Minutes before the meeting, I left my friends, who were convinced that the guy was really some old pedophile, but I let them follow me from afar just in case for their piece of mind. I put on my protective mask, and headed to the room. Inside I looked around. He wasn’t there. I double checked the location, the time, different corners of the room, but the corner where he was supposed to stand was occupied only by gross nerd guys. The smelly long hair ones. My panic was mixed with some sense of relief. This is it, he’s one of them, and if he is one of them I can just pretend that I left because I wasn’t feeling well and just go back to us, playing online. Maybe at some point I’d be mature enough to accept his physical self, and take the next step, come to terms with his ugly materiality, maybe by the time we met, by the time I was ready to squash my anxiety he would have had a glow up. Maybe not crossing that boundary now was a win-win.

Just before the start, in the colorful crowd of cosplayers, e-girls, cat ears, katanas, big titty anime girl pillows stuffing itself into the room, I saw him. His fleshy youthful face was looking better than the picture, put together into a concerned focused look aimed to find me. I watched him from a distance, looking for me, dialing my number and impatiently waiting to hear back, as I was holding onto my vibrating phone inside my pocket. I saw him sitting down, disappointed and confused, saw him checking his phone every few minutes, then his older brother coming in, comforting him, possibly telling him either that girls suck or that maybe something happened to me, depending on his prior experience with women. All that time I stood in the back, wanting to text him “don’t worry *hugs*” and “i love you *kisses*” but my body wouldn’t move, I was paralysed. My mind kept telling me “what’s the worst that could happen” before filling my head with all of the worst scenarios. I imagined:

-The smell of awkwardness in the air

-inability to make a conversation

-him not finding me attractive in real life and abandoning me, the virtual me, the me he loved or

-him liking me, wanting to make real moves, have real meetings instead of the safe, controlled, virtual, the ones i was comfortable with

It all felt like too much. And despite being a few meters away, and seeing his despair, I looked at him one last time and went back to my friends. It took me a while to come up with an excuse and text him back, but there was no excuse for what I did. The truth was sad and hard to understand. If none of my friends understood why I did this then why would he? So I lied, said that I wasn’t feeling well and that I had to leave, which felt like the most believable excuse but perhaps not believable enough for him not to question it himself. Our relationship was broken, and we stopped calling, then we stopped texting. Minecraft got boring. When I first installed Skype, I accidentally allowed it to automatically open every time I turned on my computer. When me and antoni were in love, I never had a reason to change the setting, but now I would force quit it every time I turned my old macbook on. I abandoned the block lands and moved my virtual self onto the more entertaining World of Warcraft.

Sometimes I wish I was able to say sorry.

[archangeldyke-all]

Solitude teaserrrrrrrrrr

I literally couldn't decide what to tease (seeing as I'm kind of writing this fic outward, starting from the middle chapters and branching out either way as I go.) So here is a little something something from chapter 7- These Foolish Things

this shit is not proofread and i may scrap it, idk yet

Ambessa was deep within her mind, her heart and soul flowing out of her as if her words were a broken dam, her pen gliding across the paper as she wrote within her journal. She was once again working on her memoir, writing about life with her love within it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a pattern of knocks she’d become forever familiar with and she smiled, calling out to the person on the other side, “Come in.”

You entered quietly, soft hands resting on her shoulders before sliding down as you wrapped your arms around her, pressing a kiss to her cheek from behind, “Your sleep must be troubled, what brings you in here at such a late hour, honey?”

“My queen,” Ambessa chuckled, leaning her head back to press a kiss on your jawline, her hand raising to rest on top of your own. “I have many thoughts swirling around in my head. I needed to write them down before I lost them.”

She sighed then, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the feeling of your hands upon her, savoring your company and proximity, “And yourself? What brings you here?”

You gave a sideways smile, chuckling, “Well imagine my surprise when I stirred, rolling over to find cold, tidy sheets beside me. Do share your mind with me, dearest. It has been like this for many a night with you now.”

Ambessa’s heart sank ever so slightly at your words, her shoulders slumping as she spoke, “My love…”

Sighing, she placed the pen down and turned on her stool, looking up at you while wrapping her arms around your waist before pulling you into her lap, “Sit with me for a moment will you, my love?”

You cupped her face with a hand, stroking your thumb over her cheek, “You have my every moment, Ambessa.”

Ambessa leaned into your touch as if your affection had revitalized her, her skin warm beneath your fingertips as she relaxed beneath you. For a good minute, she just sat there, staring up at you and letting your presence soothe the turbulence in her heart.

“You have such a calming effect on me, darling.”

Her hands found your hips, pulling you a bit closer, “You’re my anchor, my rock… I’m learning that without you, I’d be lost.”

You proffered a gentle smile pressing a kiss to her forehead, down the line of her nose, “And you are the waters in which I’ve found my home. Now please, do tell me what burdens you, beloved.”

“I…”

She paused, letting out a shaky sigh. It was something she’d never thought about admitting to someone else, something that would make her look weak. She could trust you though; she always had.

She reached up to your face, calloused and war-worn fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before she spoke quietly, “I just get these thoughts sometimes… about us. And… our future. I know that it’s a normal thing to do, but I… I have been getting this constant fear of losing you…”

You softened, leaning your face into her touch, holding the back of her hand as you turned to kiss the center of her palm, “My love, I am not going anywhere. Talk to me.”

She let out a shaky breath, both at the feeling of your lips on her hand but also due to her growing pit of anxiety within her stomach, closing her eyes as she savored the way you made her feel; how you could so effortlessly melt away the turmoil and replace it with such a reassuring feeling.

“I fear the worst… I know you won’t willingly leave me, barring a fallout, but… you’re only human at the end of the day. You’ll get older, your body will one day fail you… and I don’t… I can’t live without you…”

You let out a heavy sigh, taking her hands in your own, “My love… we worry enough about our own mortality to be ailed with the thought of the life of those we love. When my years catch up to me, you needn’t but look to the moon and find me among the stars, beloved.”

It almost broke her heart hearing that. The thought of not having you by her side sent her heart racing in her chest, a lump forming in her throat at the mere thought as tears welled up in her eyes.

She swallowed them down, gripping your hands a bit tighter as she fought the urge to beg you not to utter such things.

“How do you expect me to live when you’re gone? My love, I… I need you by my side. I can’t *function* without you here. I-“

“Ambessa.” Your voice was soft as you cut off her quick spiral into her fears, “Love, look at me.”

Watery chestnut orbs met yours, her mind still racing millions of miles a minute, and you could see the toll her thoughts had already begun to take on her. Your hand made contact with her cheek, pulling her from the sunken place within her mind, protecting her from those anxieties that sought to see her drown.

“You do not need me by your side. In all my years, I have never seen such an independent person as you. But I do understand that you *want* me by your side. And I believe that is an admirable thing to want. To have your yearning become desire is such a beautiful thing, but you must believe me when I tell you that even if I am not physically by your side, you will always hold a piece of me with you.”

“Whether we be separated by space, time, or simply the comings and goings of life, we are tethered by the time we share. You functioned before me and will continue to do so long after I am gone. You may not like to hear that, but it is true. Besides, you can always find me. In the ebb and flow of the tides… the salt of the ocean spray… the cycle of the crabs… and as I said earlier, among the moon and stars.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to hers as she closed her eyes, soaking in the closeness, the warmth radiating from you. It was a few moments before she spoke, still stewing in your affection and patience with her, “I suppose you’re right…”

You smiled, kissing right between her brows, “Of course, I am. Now come lay with me, darling. Our bed grows cold without you in it.”

mars i love that you're like : 'idk i think it might be trash i haven't even proofread it yet' and then you send me some of the most beautifully written storytelling i've ever read. this is so fucking good oh my god i'm so excited to see more

[pettypiastri]

the webs we spin

coho!jack hughes x fem reader

wc: 6.9K

warnings: swearing, drinking, alcohol, drunkenness, partial nudity, sexual innuendo/references, moderate NSFW scene (involves: degradation, dom/sub, name calling, taunting), fwb

a/n: this was inspired by the visuals/vibe in a (I THINK?) luke blurb where reader comes to get luke hughes when hes drunk (I THINK?) and i cannot remember for the life of me who wrote it though i will scour for it and give credit where its due! (EDIT: its this johnny beecher blurb from the incredibly talented @lucafantilli pls go check it out and her writing in general!) this is obviously a college AU of current devils at the university of michigan so miles= miles wood, dawson= dawson mercer, john= john marino, and nico= nico hischier ofc ofc. the game referenced is actually from a wisco game from two seasons ago just a diff opponent lmao.

its a bit different than my normal/preferred writing style/voice but hopefully its still good! 🤞 enjoy!

italics are flashbacks

Y/N POV

Chaos is not how you choose to start your morning. Scratch that. It’s not how anyone chooses to start their morning. But you did choose to let Jack fall asleep next to you last night after he came over. And that is a choice you still don’t regret. Despite his choice to cause an absolute ruckus leaving for morning workout. 

“Fuck Y/N where’s my hoodie?” Jack is frantically turning your bedroom on its head at a ripe 6:20am. You’re walking a fine line between helping/consoling him and telling him to shut the fuck up. God damn feelings makes it the former. 

“Jacky hun, I’m literally wearing it, did you forget? Here, take it. Just grab me something else to wear from the dresser.” Cooing gently to try and calm the rancid energy in the room you cross your arms over your head and remove the Michigan emblazoned hoodie from your figure. You suppose you’re so comfortable around him, after he’s seen you naked so many times, that exposing your chest doesn’t give you pause. But it certainly gives Jack pause. His cheeks flush as he looks down at your breasts. He’s shy, as if he didn’t spend 10 minutes leaving marks on them last night. Seeing his reaction makes you blush, cause if he’s blushing shouldn’t you be too??

You raise a nervous arm to drape across your boobs, sheltering what you can from his beady gaze. The movement seems to bring reality back to the forefront of Jack’s mind. He sees you’re nervous now from his staring and feels a sinking in his chest; that’s the last thing he ever wants to make you feel. He clears his throat and spins on his heel toward your dresser. Fuck, he hopes he hasn’t made you insecure. He flings open a, frankly, unnecessary number of drawers until he finds some big t-shirts and picks one up. Jack, with corrected reaction and head held high now, treads over to you smiling softly. Instantly the fire on your face cools and you find enough confidence to hold his gaze. Gently he reaches for the hoodie and plucks it out of your tight grasp. 

“Thank you, love. Here.” He drops the new shirt over your head, coaxing you to slide your arms through. It’s an intimate moment with him speaking so quietly and watching you with a renewed softness. Jack doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand against your cheek and lean down for a kiss. He holds you there for a moment and it feels all too domestic: your hockey player boyfriend leaving early in the morning for a workout, the soft touches and lingering stares. The claustrophobic feeling begins to rise, as much as you wish you could revel in the moment. You know it’s not real and you can’t convince yourself it is. 

You break the kiss smiling at Jack to avoid suspicion of the strings you’ve attached yourself to him with. Jack smiles back, unaware of the ploy. 

“Sorry umm sorry I fell asleep… well, no I mean I guess I’m more sorry for waking you up.” Jack stumbles over his own thoughts a little bit, revising as he goes. You don’t know whether to be brave or be safe. Given your heart’s armor is about as sturdy as some shitty copy paper right now, you decide to play it safe. 

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. Have a good workout, yeah?” Your gaze stays strong though, pleading for him to hear what you’d really wanted to say: ‘You know you can always stay the night. I like having you here.’ He nods curtly and mumbles out an affirmation, leaning down to slip on his shoes. 

You don’t think it’s in your friends with benefits description to walk him to the door at 6:30am, so you curl back up on your bed, dragging the covers over your body. 

Jack grabs his phone from where you’d plugged it in to charge last night (grey area behavior too) and pats down his hoodie pocket checking he has everything. Satisfied, he moves toward your bedroom door waving shyly as he steps out. You both bounce soft “bye”s off each other, like tentative echoes searching for something. 

To be fair, the friends with benefits description has already been… well, edited I guess you could say. What started out as unspoken “Only when Jack doesn’t have practice” and “No staying the night” became “Only when Jack doesn’t have games the next day” and “No staying the night unless there’s early workout/class in the morning.” 

One thing that hadn’t been revised: “This stays between us.” Who decided that one, you don’t know but that was just some kind of stupid rule for all of these types of situations, right? Maybe that’s just what you told yourself to keep from getting attached. Ha, wishful thinking that was.

Jack had been intriguing from the beginning. That hard fuckboy almost exterior was alluring; he knew just what to say and how and when and what smile to give you and the eyes to make. He was pre-planned, meditated, and that was obvious from the girls you’d seen him hand pick from the bar crowd, say a few lines to, and take home. But never the same girl twice. He didn’t really know you and never hand picked you from any of those aforementioned crowds but the fates had it in store for you regardless. 

The stupidest trope really. Dumb jock has shitty grades. Prof targets smart punctual student to tutor him. A tale as old as time except you didn’t study at the library or the coffeeshop. No, from day one you invited Jack over to your place, thinking the environment of the library was much too sterile, not very helpful for making a struggling student feel comfortable. But it didn’t quite go how it normally does. He didn’t jump your bones the first time he came over. You didn’t fall into bed with him in a lustful craze and subsequently madly in love with the boy. Not even close. 

He was nervous, quite painfully so the first few times. Whether it was the vulnerable environment getting tutored for a class you really shouldn’t be failing, knowing his cocky attitude or athlete title wouldn’t make a difference here, or how taken aback he was at how pretty you really were up close, the first three weeks were professional and timely. Only when you suggested he come over early for some coffee before starting studying and only after you offered he stay for some of the take out that had been delivered to you while he was there, did he start to relax. And even then, it was another two weeks before you texted outside of just arranging study times. For as methodical a pick up artist he seemed to be, this situation was clearly more of a tortoise over the hare type of deal. 

In those stolen moments before and after studying, you slowly grew together and from strength to strength. He told you about his family when you shared details about your shitty highschool friends and he remembered that you were always most hangry on Wednesdays since you had kickboxing right before tutoring. It was natural really the way he started dropping his book down on the same side of the table right next to you rather than across, and how he would push your hair behind your ear when you were explaining something hunched over the textbook. It was so natural how you started to grab his bicep more when praising him for doing something right and how you would sit so close on the couch together afterwards that hushed whispers were the loudest you needed to speak. In fact, you’ll be damned if you actually remember the exact moment you went from friends to something more, the transition so seamless you don’t have a memory of the first time you kissed. 

But eventually you did start to end up in bed together. Whether after your study session or maybe as a tiny break in between chapters or maybe “we just don’t even need to study because you seemed like you understood things well enough when you were here well… yesterday.” 

“So I mean basically all this problem is about is supply and demand. There’s a lot of red herrings here that they’re trying to distract you with. Can you tell me what the product is and the initial supply and demand relationship? Before the market change?” You’re busy looking over the word problem trying to figure out how to step Jack through it next. But he’s taking an unusually long time to answer your question. You turn to look at him. Jack seems lost, but about what you’re not sure.

“Isn’t that a fish? A red herring?” He asks. You can’t help but sigh that THAT is all he decided to selectively hear from your initial question. 

“Yes, Hughesy, but it’s also an expression that means a piece of information that is distracting from the main point. Kind of like what you’re doing right now.” The second part you mutter under your breath though and turn back to the book. More silence.

“...I’ve caught a tuna once, y'know.” 

“Jack! Focus!” Your chastising facade is easily disintegrated by an accompanying giggle. Jack looks satisfied, a little grin on his face that matches yours. Always the class clown. He’s more than happy he got you to smile and stop your tutor act. Though he doesn’t like how you sigh in slight frustration while setting your pencil down. He reaches a hand out to touch your thigh. The gesture makes you shiver.

“Hey I’m sorry. I think I understand it already though, there was a really similar practice problem I did before hockey today.” His soothing tone is matched by the gentle movements of his thumb on your skin. It takes you a moment to really hear what he said but then you smile. 

“You did practice problems today? Before practice? Without me assigning them to you?” You’re almost bashful when you ask, finally catching him in a moment of softness that you adored so much. It doesn’t go unnoticed by a blushing Jack either. 

“Yeah I did. I don’t wanna look totally stupid when we study y’know.” It’s sassy as always. You can hear the vulnerability though, you know him too well now. His expression morphs into more of a smirk, one side of his lips pinned higher up than the other. Jack reaches out his unoccupied hand to toy with a piece of your hair before slipping it behind your ear. “Was also hoping we could spend some time doing something else if I already understood the chapter.” His voice is a few steps lower and his eyes have already drawn more hooded as he looks you over. He’s trying to find the answer in your eyes. You fight an inner battle between what’s in your pants and what’s in your head. 

On one hand the past couple days of fooling around had been amazing but rationally you know this can’t end up being good for your tutoring situation. So do you give up or give in? As much as you wish the personal turmoil to be more prolonged, you think you already made up your mind how today would end when you first let Jack into your apartment looking so good in that backwards hat and flannel combo. You want him. He’s only empowering you with the way he’s running his hungry eyes over you. Fuck it. Professional tutoring and casual sex could both coexist right? Even so, you know the clench in your heart wasn’t from nerves but a clairvoyant reaction to how knotted this web would end up. 

In an attempt to stamp down the thought, you surge forward to kiss Jack. He’s ready to meet your lips, catching you in a soft but intent kiss. It’s only an extended moment before you pull away. His lips chase yours and the smirk that used to be on his face is now transferred to yours. You stand up. 

“You coming?” It’s a rhetorical question tossed over your shoulder on your way to your bedroom. No chance in hell he wouldn’t follow.

“Not right now Y/N geez. I can last at least 20 minutes, you know that.” Jack is quick to joke, wrapping his arms around you from behind and waddling as a pair toward your room. 

“Eww Hughes, I hate you.” You can’t help but laugh. His lips find their way to your neck and you can feel his smile. 

“Shh I bet you won’t be saying that in 19 minutes and 55 seconds, pretty.”

Jack was so gentle, he took his time to learn your body and constantly praise you for being so good for him. And after he learned you, you learned him, how he was rougher after games and always enjoyed a sneaky bout of morning sex. You never bothered to ask if he was seeing other girls too and frankly didn’t want to pain yourself with the thought. While Jack was with you, he was yours and that was enough.

Things were sticky from the get go. He’d always linger to ensure some pillow talk and maybe make you giggle a few times before he felt truly satiated. There were even times he’d come over after a tough loss and just follow you into the shower where you’d wash his body and let him hold you tenderly as long as he needed. Jack would bring you coffee when he knew you’d had an 8am and ask about how your sibling was doing. If you were really honest with yourself, you’d felt those butterflies and that childlike glee to just be in his company from that third week when you’d asked him to come early for coffee. Call it self destruction but knowing you could have him like this, however, taboo and hush hush it is, is better than what you were before when he didn’t even know you existed and what you might’ve been if he’d picked you as just another one of his conquests.

---

Jack's POV

The boys are already raging by the time Jack rolls up with John and Dawson. ‘It’s a weekend tradition,’ they say, to have a house party whenever they don’t have a Saturday game, since those occasions are so sparse. Obviously in between these off weekends are normal parties but those are much more lowkey. Normally, he’d be down but they haven’t had one of these full on ragers in like a month and a lot has happened in the last month. 

Jack really wishes you could be here, or that he didn’t have to be… your bed is so comfy. But it’s more than her god damn bed. From day one you never patronized him or made him feel stupid for not understanding fucking econ 102. You were entirely what Jack wasn’t looking for but desperately needed at just the right time. Some stability, a person separate from the rink. Trustworthy, someone who didn’t get to know him just for hockey. You’re smart and fuck… so gorgeous. It was really intimidating at first, trying to understand something he didn’t give a rat’s ass about while a pretty girl who didn’t know how pretty she was looked at him through her big glasses. After a while it wasn’t intimidating any more, just so god damn distracting. Always getting him coffee, doing things to make his life easier, hugging Jack so tight when he’d come and go. 

If he was honest he’d been hoping to get into bed with you from like the second week, but he knew you weren’t that type of girl, the type he normally would take home for one night and one night only. He’d known you were different and he wanted that; he wanted you. And for more than just a single fuck. So he’d waited. You were so gentle with him and Jack swears it’d felt like he’d just smoked a whole j by myself when you kissed him finally. At least he thinks it was you that kissed him first… Maybe Jack had actually smoked a whole j before coming over, you made him so fucking nervous at first. Not anymore though. Now you just make him smile and laugh and feel warm. 

He seems like a fucking simp which would be fine if he and you weren’t in the trenches of no man’s land right now. He doesn't really do this type of thing, the whole relationship thing. But he does want that with you, he just doesn't know how and he doesn't know if you want him too. Jack’s always worried you might see him as just his reputation. He’s worried you won’t be able to trust him not to hurt you. But you don’t hurt the people you love. 

Every moment you’re not with him he feels like he’s looking for you (like right now) and that’s because time spent with you doing nothing is always better than time spent without you. Jack’s so fucking into you it hurts and drives him a little crazy but he’d rather stay in between than lose you completely. 

“Holy fuck did you hear a word of that Hughes?” Nico shakes Jack’s shoulder and he knows he’s been caught in his daze. He tries to recover from looking like an absolute space cadet. 

“Nah dude I’m never usually listening when you talk, haven’t you noticed?” This causes some chuckles and a punch to the shoulder from Nico, but he smiles at Jack anyway. “We getting some drinks here or what boys?” He asks, trying to push the conversation away from his la la land behavior. The group moves en masse toward the open bar that one of their other teammates set up. Jack doesn't escape the attention for long though. 

“Haven’t seen you pick anyone up in a while? Something wrong with the little guy?” John chirps, giving Jack a crotch punch. Miles laughs so hard from over the shot glasses he spills some of the Tito’s he was pouring out.

“Fuck off John no. Just haven’t been feeling like a random fuck lately.” Jack scratches the back of his neck for once hating all the fucking eyes on him. 

“Haven’t been feeling like it? Has hell frozen over?” Nico absolutely refuses to let it go. Jack doesn't even know what to say so he just turns and glares at him reaching for a filled shot glass. He tosses it back. 

“Is this a fucking party or what boys? I’m not the only one drinking, am I?” The boys take the bait and soon Jack’s the least important of their thoughts as much as they’re the least important of his.

The arena is buzzing. Home game against MSU with 14 seconds left in the period. They’re tied 3-3. And he’s sweating his balls off. Absolutely gassed. Jack puts his hand up for Ian to throw him a towel, quickly popping his cage open and wiping off his forehead. Jack takes the opportunity to look over at the MSU bench. Their coach has a whiteboard out drawing up a play to score since they’ve got an o-zone faceoff. Coach Naurato just told them to break up whatever play MSU was planning. Very helpful.

 Jack’s mind starts to wander a bit, wondering if you’re seated somewhere in the student section. He knows you come to games but didn’t ask about this one; he’d forgotten the last time you-- erm “hung out.” 

The refs’ whistle luckily refocuses Jack’s mind back on the game. It’s go time. An icing meant he was back out there with the boys for this crucial moment. They had to stretch things to OT. No way was MSU scoring. 

He takes his position at the edge of the circle, to the left of his tendie. As soon as the puck drops Jack feels like he’s in slow motion. He moves hard out on the point searching for a loose puck or being ready to pry one loose. MSU’s centerman raked the puck back but Jack gets to it first skating as fast as he fucking can out of the pile. He’s moving despite his screaming legs, the lactic acid being almost too much to bear. 

He sees he’s got one of his liney’s to the left but has to get around the MSU defender first. Jack goes for a little chip play, which surprisingly gets around the d-man, despite his good gap. Jack’s in disbelief at this point, skating for his goddamn life; he could win this game for them.

The MSU goalie is being aggressive, creeping out of his crease to make himself bigger. But Jack’s still got his guy. A quick passing play and Jack re-receives the puck, psyching out the goalie just enough to find some space and sneak the puck in backdoor. Score.

Jack blacks out. Completely unsure what to do with himself, he starts frantically skating around the rim of the rink, arms up in the air as his teammates mob him against the glass. He’s fully screaming. He can feel the whole arena rumbling around him going absolutely nuts. Jack swears he’s never been happier than in this moment. They’ve won the game 4-3.

----

He’s out of press as quickly as possible. It’s not very extensive for D1 hockey players but there were still a few questions for the game winning goal scorer. Jack is still pumped full of adrenaline, hands practically shaking he’s so hyped up. He can think of only one person he wants to see right now, elevated testosterone sending his brain into a primal state.

“I’m coming over.” He texts. He’s never been so forward before, but his dumb boy brain can only think about one thing. For a split second Jack considers sending a follow up to ease the pushiness but he decides against it, shoving his phone in his dress pants pocket and making haste toward your apartment. 

He knocks at the door shifting impatiently, annoyed by an incessant itch he knows only you can scratch. You pull open the door and are suddenly standing in front of him; Michigan hoodie covering your frame and smooth legs exposed by a pair of sweatshorts. You seem a little shy unlike usual but still smile at Jack. Damn, has she always been this pretty? His lust works to heighten his senses.

Jack is swift, grabbing you and pulling you up around his waist. His hands fall greedily to your ass supporting you but also trying to relieve some of the tension in him by copping a feel. You’re feverish when you bring his lips to yours for a fiery kiss. There’s nothing innocent about it. His feet begin to move you both subconsciously toward your room as you make out with a fervor. The smell of your perfume swirls around him and fills his nose, fueling his lustful delirium further. You’re putty in his hands, arching generously into him, gasping wantonly for his kiss. Jack kisses you again and again even after breaking away until you can’t take anymore of the Dyonisian exchange. 

“Please--” Your plea is clipped and breathy. You’re not even sure if at first you know exactly what you’re asking for. But Jack hears you. He feels the way your body is screaming, vibrating electrically at his display. It strokes his ego in just the way his caveman mind needed.

“Yeah? You need me baby? Saw me score and now you need me to fuck you?” Jack’s almost taunting, his voice a few steps lower than usual. You feel no shame in giving into his provocation. You nod hastily, begging with your eyes rather than your words. Jack smirks, setting you on the floor of your room before backing himself toward the bed. He sits down, hands going behind him so he can lean back on his arms. He looks so cocky but still so sexy. Jack raises his eyebrows looking you over from where you stand stiffly before him.

“Well? On your knees baby, show me you deserve to be fucked.” He spits, making no move to do any of the work. You stumble forward, dropping to the floor in front of him and reaching greedily for his belt buckle. “There’s my good girl. Gonna let me fuck your throat sweetheart?” It’s condescending but it makes your stomach flutter. You love when he’s dominant. You wrestle his belt buckle open, beginning to tug on his dress pants. When you look up at him with doe eyes, pleading for him to do as he pleases with you, you see his smug smile. 

“Yeah ‘course you are. Always such a slut for me.” 

It all gets a little blurry after that first shot. Suddenly, he doesn’t remember a damn thing. Until Jack sees you. 

---

Y/N POV

You think it’s part of your dream at first, the incessant buzzing. But it’s coming from a flower in the garden and that doesn’t seem quite right… it’s still another fews rings before you fully flutter your eyes open. Still in a daze from sleep inertia, you reach blindly for your phone, holding it to what you think is your ear, and answering the call.

“H-hello?” You croak out, coughing almost immediately. The response on the other line is slow and you nearly fall back asleep in the second it takes them to speak.

“Hi umm sorry is-- is this Y/N?” Even in your haze you know that it’s weird that someone who’s calling you at the ass crack of morning isn’t sure of the name of the person they’re calling. It’s then you manage to sit up and pull your phone away from your ear to look at the caller ID. ‘Jacky Hughes.’ You’re even more confused now, because that voice certainly isn’t Jack and how the fuck does someone have his phone and why the fuck are they calling you?

“Uhhhhh yeah but who are you? Why do you have Jack’s phone?” You ask. The response is quicker this time.

“Shit sorry-- fuck this is John I’m buddies with Jack. Ummm we’re at the hockey house right now having a party but Jack is wasted and he just-- he kept asking for Y/N. ‘Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, where is she? I miss her. I miss my girl. Why isn’t she here?’ Really sappy shit and I mean none of the boys knew he had a girl so we’re like ‘Jack what the fuck are you saying man’ and he won’t explain he just keeps going on and on blah blah about Y/N. So we grab his phone right, and go through his contacts and look for a ‘Y/N’ and ta da, you’re the only one in there so we figured it had to be you he was talking about. Anyway, can you come get him? He's, like, totally plastered right now.”

‘John’ as he calls himself, is “like totally plastered right now” also, based on that rambly explanation. But really you don’t need any more convincing to drop what you’re doing (more like weren’t doing) and go to pick up a drunk Jack. 

“Yeah… yeah I’ll come now just uhh drop me a pin or something.” You barely wait for John to answer before ending the call to slip on some shoes, a hoodie, and grab your keys. As you lock your door on the way out, a text comes in with a location just like you asked for. 

You’d never been to the hockey house before but fuck it wasn’t hard to miss at this hour. Pretty multi color lights can be seen changing color inside and while the noise wasn’t atrocious it was certainly obvious. You risk it with double parking despite your nagging anxiety as it’s 3am and you don’t have time to find legal parking. You begin to tread up toward the porch but don’t have to go too far before your night vision fixes on a scene that makes you smile. 

Jack is sitting on the grass with his back against a tree mumbling incoherently, from the distance you’re at. There’s a few boys with him: some on the grass as well, one swinging on an epic rope swing tied from the tree and another just standing with his arms crossed. As you get closer you can make out Jack’s pouty face and loose limbs. The boy standing looks rather paternal as he monitors your toddler of a boyf-- erm.. friend. Thankfully, you don’t have to announce your presence as said paternal man notices you walking up.

“Hey are you uh-- Y/N was it?” He calls out. You nod but before you can speak Jack opens his big mouth just as you come to a stop in front of the group. 

“Aww Y/N she’s so pretty y’know-- wait you said she was coming, where is she Nico?” You look to see if Jack’s just suddenly lost all competency but notice that his eyes are closed. Your fond smile is involuntary. By now the rest of the belligerent boys have noticed your presence and are prodding at Jack saying ‘bro she is here’ ‘you’re so stupid Hughes’ and ‘oh my god dude.’

“Shhhh my head hurts be quiet you dumb fucks.” Jack chastises through a rather endearing hiccup. You move directly in front of Jack now, sinking into a squat to be almost eye level with him. Well you would be if he’d open his fucking eyes.

“Hey Jacky…” You call gently, placing your hand over his knee. He shifts only slightly.

“Only Y/N calls me that.” Jack whines, a lilt of sadness to his voice. Some of the boys have started laughing, egging him on while Nico just swears under his breath. Jack’s childishness makes you giggle. 

“Open your eyes dumbass.” You add now, squeezing his knee and giggling still. Jack furrows his brow and shakes his head side to side.

“Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still hear her voice.” You’re fully laughing now, heart bursting with affection for this drunken fool. The Greek chorus opens their big mouths some more, fully ragging on Jack now: ‘Are you fucking serious bro’ and ‘Hughesy you idiot.’ 

The wheels seem to start turning, granted at a glacial pace, from all the berating. Jack shakes his head and you pat his leg encouragingly, his pretty eyes finally opening. When your eyes meet, he gasps comically loud and breaks into a beaming grin. It makes you feel even weaker for him.

“Oh my god, Y/N!!” He lifts an arm and starts flinging his hand about trying to find your face, to touch part of your body. You think he wants to hold your cheek but you’d rather he didn’t slap you in the face in the process. Gently you pick up his hand and rest your face against it.

“Hi stud.” You murmur at him, and even though he’s so inebriated that he doesn’t have control of his limbs, his thumb somehow begins to stroke your cheek. His head lulls to the side like a love sick puppy and he marvels at you with his starry gaze. He fish mouths for a moment before finding his words. 

“Is this a dream? Y’know I’m spinning so fucking bad right now I can see about three Y/N’s and that honestly sounds like fucking heaven to me. Must be a dream…” Jack mutters, almost to himself.

“Sorry to disappoint but I’m as real as that econ test you have on Monday Jacky. Glad to see you’re spending your weekend wisely.” The boys around you can’t help but chuckle at your rather mom-ish chirp. A few ‘gottems’ can be heard. Despite the roasting, it appears that Jack couldn’t care less. A delighted gasp leaves his lips and a sunshine-y smile rises on his lips. 

“Oh my god it IS you! I told Nico I wanted you to come get me and here you are! Will you take me home? Home to your’s? John’s being mean and Dawson isn’t as pretty as you.” He pouts as he says all this, making your heart clench. Home, he said. Your place. You’re already nodding without realizing. And if you lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek, it’s involuntary too.

“Yeah hun let’s go. I’ve got Welch’s in the car and a Ziploc bag with your name on it.” Your fingers run through his hair to soothe him just how you’ve learned to when he’s sober. You think he makes a move to stand and get his feet under himself but that battle is short lived. His ass stays firmly planted on the ground. 

“Geez Hughes here let’s go buddy. We got ya… yup there we go.” His friends are quick to claim limbs and hoist the 180 pound gentle giant off the dirt. You thank them and point out your car. Jack’s head lulls backwards so that he can still look at you even while he’s being carted off to your vehicle. The giddy smile doesn’t seem to leave his face.

“What are you guys?” The abruptness catches you off guard and shatters your daydreaming. You turn to find Nico, the most sober of the group and the ringleader it seems.

“Huh? Oh umm-- we… we hook up I guess. Yea…” You stutter badly but this is your first time talking about your situation with Jack out loud. It’ll have to do.

“Hook up... like... repeatedly? No, sorry, I mean like, he comes back to you or-- fuck I’m tryna say like he-- he doesn’t-- you’re not a fuck and chuck?” You’re at least grateful Nico is lacking some eloquence as well right now. Still, you’re unsure how to go on. You laugh awkwardly.

“No-- or wait I mean yeah? We’ve uhh yeah been hooking up for a couple months or three I think now. I was asked to tutor him in econ at the start of the semester.” Nico looks shocked but you watch as his face morphs in accordance with the wheels turning up top. He smiles all of a sudden.

“Well fuck me. He said he had a pretty study buddy so I guess that’s why he’s been so MIA. Probably should’ve put that one together sooner.” Nico laughs at his blatant idiocy. You smile and shrug not really knowing what to say. He hasn’t really said anything that you can respond to.

“He doesn’t even eat when he gets back most of the time. If he gets back at all obviously.” You blush at the implication as he continues to glue the pieces together in his head.

“Yeah we usually cook together or order something.” Your admittance is bashful. You kick some rocks with your shoes as you continue walking behind the carrying party toward your car.

“Wow. I’m shocked really. I mean I’ve never seen him or heard of him spending this much time with a girl before. You must be special.” 

You must be special. 

It’s what you’ve been wanting to hear for months now, just from the wrong person. 

“Y/NNNNN!” Jack whines from the passenger's seat of your car where he’s been deposited haphazardly, albeit in one piece. You roll your eyes affectionately, walking around towards him. 

“Thanks boys. ‘Preciate it.” You smile at the group, shifting your weight awkwardly between both feet. John breaks the silence.

“Tell him to bring you around sometime. We wanna meet you for real. Seems like he really likes you.” 

Seems like he really likes you. 

“Sure thing. Thanks again.” You smile and offer a small laugh and wave. Quickly you look down to your boy-- no, Jack, and see him staring at you. 

“I told them that.” He mumbles drowsily. 

“Told ‘em what bub?” You ask leaning over him to buckle his seatbelt and push all arms and legs inside the vehicle. 

“That I really like you.” 

I really like you. 

You pause for a moment, looking him over warily, heart fluttering. He’s smiling at you just as genuinely as he normally would when sober. It’s calming for the moment and inclines you to believe him even in his drunken state. Despite how desperately you want him to sober up so you can hear the real truth, your nervous stomach accepts his admittance for the time being. You smile back at him and bend to kiss him on the lips. It’s just a peck but satiates the boy fully. He giggles gleefully when you pull away and meet his eyes again. 

“Alright Jacky hun, let’s get you home.”

------

After waking up at 2 in the morning to collect a 5'11” drunken idiot, you’d think he’d have the decency to let you sleep in. Wishful thinking apparently. 

“Y/N… Y/N! Wake up please!” Though Jack’s being gentle he’s still shaking you awake, a rather jarring way to come around. You groan loudly, letting him know how exasperated you’re feeling. Your hands reach blindly to push him away from you. Jack’s even more stubborn than you are though. “Please baby, I needa talk to you.” He’s gentler this time, leaning down to kiss your neck and rub at your side. The coaxing works wonders in getting you to peak an eye open. 

Jack looks adorable really. Soft hair flopping into his face and some dark blue bags under his eyes. He’s wearing a soft smile and the look in his eyes is one of adoration. It almost melts away your annoyance. Almost. 

“Jacky, what do you want? Are you still drunk? Why the fuck did you wake me up?” You whine. He just continues to look at you gently. He bends to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Hi gorgeous, I’m sorry. I-- I had to wake you up because well I blacked out last night which you obviously saw, but I woke up from my blackout when you were sitting in front of me smiling and telling me I was an idiot for not studying for our econ test. And I couldn’t wait another hour or more for you to wake up. I needed to tell you now that-- that I remember what I said and it was true. I like you, I really do. I’m so fucking into you it’s a little stupid and I’m tired of all this in between bullshit. I’ve wanted to be with you from like the second week we studied together and I don’t just wanna have sex anymore-- I mean don’t get me wrong it’s great and I would very much like to continue having sex with you but umm what I mean is I wanna introduce you to my friends and brag about you to them. About how my girl is so smart and funny and sexy and that she makes me laugh and fuck I’d ditch boys night for you because I like you that much. You make me feel so happy and safe. I love being around you no matter what we’re doing and I want you to be around me all the time. And I think I know that I’m not one sided in feeling this because I don’t think anyone could endure the pain of being so close to a couple but not actually being official unless they would give up the world for that person and well…  I would, I would give up the world for you and I hope that-- okay well that’s a lot to ask that you’d give up the world for me back but I hope that you at least like me too. Please tell me you do cause I’m so into you babe and I want it all with you. Late nights and early mornings… the fights and the love… the future. I’m not scared of losing you from saying how I feel because I’ve been yours for months now, so what’d you say? Be mine?” 

It’s almost too much all at once. You’re so tired and delirious and here’s this soft looking boy holding you in bed under the sheets, fingers dancing along your waist while he stares into your eyes and bares his soul to you. He had you at ‘I like you’ because it’s all you’ve been wanting to hear for months. Everything else was just sweet fluff that you more than loved but didn’t even need to hear make your decision. He says he’s been yours for months now but what he doesn’t realize is you’ve been his for just as long. And yeah, you’d give up the world for him too. All there’s left to say is yes.

You giggle at him pulling him down for a soft kiss. It’s a vessel for your emotion. An outpouring of love and devotion. You want him to feel that your actions mirror his words.

“Of course, Jack. I’m yours if you’re mine.” He beams down at you, smiling so wholly you think his face might get permanently stuck like that. He buries his face in your neck kissing you there. 

“Thank god.” He sighs. “I know I sounded all confident but I was still kinda shitting it that I might’ve had it all wrong there.”

[meraki-yao]

RWRB: A list of thoughts on the Campfire Scene

Ok I went to sleep for another hour to calm myself down and now I can form coherent thoughts about the scene and not just scream and squeal

It's a three-minute scene with two shots. The first shot is a little over two minutes

When Alex asks his question, Henry, who was looking into the fire, tilts his head towards Alex as if to listen better. After Alex finishes, Henry looks up towards the sky, like he's wondering how to answer

Alex doesn't really react to Henry's "Once upon a time" even though he's not directly answering Alex's question. He just listens, and that's such a beautiful thing

Nick deserves a round of applause for this scene, his monologue was two minutes long, and monologues are really hard to perform because it's just you who keeps talking, you don't really get to react to other things or people, it's just you, so Nick is a fantastic job

Nick's delivery and tone, and the way he sometimes ends a sentence a bit like a question (ex: "acutely") makes it sound like Henry's been thinking about this story/ metaphor for a while but this is the first time he ever verbalizes it, so while he knows what he wants to talk about thus he doesn't need to pause a lot to think of the story, he does occasionally need to think of the next word or line because again, he never actually said any of this out loud before, and Nick does that so well

@pippin-katz pointed out that Nick misspoke and said "sent the suit a prince of armour" which is hilarious, and while because movie, this shouldn't happen, realistically we all have moments where we mix words up so it almost feels more... authentic? Also, I didn't pick it up but now that Pippin mentioned it I'm really aware of it lmao

Also Henry/Nick's voice here is so soothing? I can almost imagine him telling bedtime stories to his and Alex's kids like this in the future. I wonder if Henry would write children's books because it feels like it'd be something he do and something he could write really well, if this clip is anything to go by. Plus I stumbled across an audio of Nick reading "The Emperor's New Clothes" before (I literally have no context of why he was reading that and it was literally just audio, not sure if I can find it anymore) and it was so soothing and calming that I fell asleep to it one night. Besides the full-cast RWRB audiobook that I'm practically demanding at this point, I wonder if he would be interested in doing more audiobook/narration stuff. He's really got the voice for it

The King sending a suit of armour to protect the prince's heart kind of further proves my point of the King being a much more loving grandparent to Henry than the queen in the book, and him worrying more about Henry himself than the image of the crown. He noticed that 1, Henry is an emotionally sensitive person, 2, Henry is gay, and both of those things could be turned against him easily, and he will get hurt. He does love Henry, just not in a way that's good for Henry. If we get a sequel I do hope we can see them reconcile in one way or another. It'd be a nice example for people in the same positions.

The "Nothing will ever happen to him" line!!!! I wrote a whole essay about Kensington and this line because somehow this line was one of the most powerful ones to me, but to know that it was originally Henry's word just adds another level of pain to the Kensington scene

You can see Henry's face light up when he starts talking about the peasant boy. And Alex's quick eyebrow raise and deep chuckle. It's so beautiful, I wanna cry

We talk about Alex's heart eyes, which, yes, but Henry's look of pure adoration and love at Alex when he says "Truly Alive" makes me want to melt

I yelled a little at Alex when he started to lay back down (as in I verbally shouted "DAMMIT ALEX LOOK AT YOUR MAN") because I felt like if Alex saw Henry's face in the following lines he'd figure out Henry has issues earlier? But then I saw a take saying the shot was framed like theatre where Henry's both centre stage and in the spotlight so the focus is on him, so Alex was designed to lay back down on the timber bench to make the entire space for Henry

Henry's look of sad longing when he talks about the peasant boy pulling apart his armor is heartbreaking

I wonder if this was originally planned to be the changing point from Alex's POV to Henry's POV? Because in that case I do think the lake scene worked better as a changing point

I also wonder how did Henry end the story in his head up to this point? Because as hopefully as the last line is, at this point in the story, Henry still doesn't believe he can keep this

I get why scenes are cut because when you're putting together a movie, there are a lot of things you don't see for individual scenes until you put them together. This is why as much as I want the cast and crew to get the premiere they deserve to have, I don't really want an extended cut of the movie, because things were cut for a good reason

That being said, if the cornetto scene and this scene proved anything, is that the scenes themselves are fascinating, and I WANT THEM ALL

[chemdisaster]

wrote this on a plane while drinking to the new year and my birthday, so literally partly in 2023 and partly in 2024. belongs to my brand new modern au where the bad boys are childhood friends.

warning: because i'm me, it ends the way it does in limited life. as a result, much pain and suffering and jimmy is dead in this one

Joel gets in trouble with the law again, and again, and again. Minor offences at first, drinking in public and one instance of attempting to shoplift a cheap pack of gum that makes Grian about implode upon himself with incredulity—Joel has money, what in the world!—before he recognises it as Jimmy's favourite flavour.

They deal with that, too. He dutifully bails his friend out every time and does his best not to ask too many questions. The situation is far from ideal, but on some level he understands—everyone deals with grief in their own way. With luck, this should pass.

Then, Joel pulls a knife on Scott and has to pay a ridiculous amount of money to keep him from pressing charges.

That's when Grian loses it.

"What the fuck, Joel," he rants in the car on their way back from the police station. "What the actual fuck were you thinking."

From his far-too-relaxed position in the passenger seat, Joel snorts.

"He deserved it."

Grian sputters.

"He deserv—what, no, Joel, this is serious. You can't just go around pulling knives on people, that's not—what the hell is wrong with you?!" he bursts out, and surprises himself with the vehemence behind his exclamation.

And then Joel does something incredibly, infuriatingly Joel.

He rolls his eyes and asks, "Why do you care?"

In that moment, Grian wants nothing more than to punch him.

Steeling himself, he schools his expression into one of indifference. Two can play this game.

"I don't."

"Sure you don't."

"No, I'm being serious, Joel. By all means, continue self-destructing—but I'm not sticking around to watch. So far you've crossed every line humanly possible, and I just—"

His resolve breaks. For a moment, he takes his eyes off the road to stare earnestly at Joel, who looks away the moment he meets his gaze.

"The way you're heading, I'm about to become a singular Bad Boy," Grian confesses to the back of Joel's head. "And I don't want to see that happen. I've lost Jimmy, I don't want to lose you, too."

A pause.

Eventually, Joel forces out through gritted teeth, "Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car. Stop the fucking car right now."

Grian slams on the brakes, and the car's barely had time to skid to a halt before Joel is wrenching the door open and setting off, walking briskly along the edge of the road.

Scrambling to get out of his own seat, Grian follows.

"Wait, no," he calls out. "Joel, what are you doing?"

"Leaving," Joel spits, barely turning around, his words carrying across the wind. "You're sick of having to deal with me? Congratulations, today's your lucky day. You'll never have to see my face ever again."

"No, Joel, that's not what I meant—"

"Oh yeah?" Joel swivels around. "Well, then I pray you, tell me what you really meant. Go on, Grian. Tell me why I shouldn't have killed Scott right there on the spot."

Advancing, he pushes at Grian's chest.

"Tell me, Grian," he repeats, and his voice gains a note of something resembling hysteria. "Tell me what's oh-so-wrong with me. Tell me why I'm the one who's wrong and everything isn't fucked, tell me, Grian—"

Grian gently catches Joel's wrists before his knuckles can come into contact with his face. Carefully, he says, "Scott didn't kill Jimmy. Jimmy's death was—"

"An accident, I know," Joel snaps. "It's always the accidents with him, isn't it? Missing steps, tripping over his own feet, falling off fucking bridges—"

Unable to do much more, Grian nods. Because Joel is right. It is always the accidents—it was, and they always joked about Jimmy being cursed, but now that he's gone, Grian can't help but wonder if the curse was really on them all along.

Feeling the tension slowly seep away from Joel's wrists, Grian loosens his grip and brings their hands down, interlocking their fingers. Joel lets him, and a temporary calm settles over the shore, but Grian knows him too well to believe that this means that the storm is over.

Sure enough, a moment later, Joel laughs, quietly and without any humour.

"You're full of shit, Grian."

Grian blinks, taken aback, and says nothing.

Joel continues, "You're actually, genuinely full of shit. Jimmy's gone, and you're expecting me to, what, not be at all messed up?"

Grian still doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say, what he could possibly say to prove to his friend that he does care, he does, cares so much that it feels like he's going to rip apart from the inside if he lets himself dwell on it for any longer than he already is—every minute of every waking day.

Joel gives him a long, searching look, and whatever he finds makes his tone turn downright venomous when he carries on, "Oh, but it's easy for you, isn't it? You haven't cried or—or anything, you don't fucking—you don't give a shit, do you?"

He rips his hands away, stumbles backwards.

"Ever the reasonable one, always telling me to calm down, right? WELL I CAN'T CALM DOWN, MY FRIEND IS FUCKING DEAD!"

Grian levels a look at Joel, meets his enraged, devastated expression head-on.

"Joel, I'm just saying, this isn't the way to grieve. This is—you're destroying yourself, Timmy wouldn't have wanted you to—"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Silence.

The rapidly descending dark obscures Joel's face, but his sobs ring out loudly in the night.

"Oh, Joel."

With only a moment's hesitation, Grian steps forward and brings his arms around his friend, who instantly goes pliant in his hold. "I hate you, Grian," he cries into his neck, and his shoulders jump. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—"

Grian sighs, "I know."

I hate myself, too, he doesn't say. Joel weeps with sobs that sound more like wails, and Grian does his best to swallow down the ugly and inhuman thing that rears its head at the base of his throat. He knows that, come tomorrow, none of this will matter, and the only thing that will still hold meaning will be the large gaping hole at their side.

With everything he's been telling Joel, maybe he really is nothing but a huge goddamn hypocrite, after all. Whoever said that it gets better is a fucking liar.

[mochiwrites]

Aaaa thank you sorry this is going to be super long but I just had this really amazing terrible angst idea thing with vampires and so i wrote it out and i think it gets across what I want it to? The more i look over it the more it feels like a vent lmao

So uh. Here. Contains blood, kinda sh thoughts, and self worth issues! No happy endings allowed!

The worst part of the late nights was how they never seemed to pay off. Grian rubbed a hand against his eye, trying to keep the lines on the page in front of him from blurring. On his way to grab a red pen for notes, his fingers brushed against the chain holding his red crystal pendant around his neck, and he paused to look over at the vampire in the chair across from him. The light from the fireplace gave him a slightly ethereal look— the low light hid the circles that Grian knew lay under his eyes, and his usual pallor was draped in a warm orange glow. His eyes caught on Grian’s, who quickly straightened the smile that had crept onto his face, hoping the dim light would mask the warmth across his ears and cheeks.

“Grian? Something wrong?”

Grian blinked a few times. The lack of sleep must have been getting to him. “No. No, nothing.” He turned his eyes back to the papers, ignoring how they stung in protest. He had to get something done tonight, it couldn’t all be for nothing, not like the cave, not like the shack. Useless.

“Actually, could you check this out? I think I need a second pair of eyes…” Mumbo muttered. Grian shot to his side as quickly as his heavy bones would allow. If he could do anything to help, anything at all—

He overcompensated for the distance between their chairs, toppling them both onto the ground. Grian scrambled off of him, apologizing profusely at the mess of papers now scattered on the ground. Mumbo shook himself off, face a little darker than before. “No, I’m fine. Are you doing alright? You look…” he brought a hand to Grian’s face, running a thumb under his eye. “…not great,” he finished.

Grian unconsciously pushed his face further into Mumbo’s hand. “I’m fine. I’m—“ he went to take a step back, save himself from Mumbo’s scrutiny, but his knee refused to support his weight. Mumbo shot an arm out to catch him, supporting Grian’s weight against his body. Grian flung his arms around his neck in panic, relaxing his grip to his shoulders as Mumbo’s hand, the one not at his face, pressed firmly against the small of his back. Grian noted the way they were flush against each other, how he could feel Mumbo’s chest move with each breath, in and out a little faster than it normally did. He understood why; he wasn’t particularly light, and Mumbo was basically carrying him at this point. Dead weight again, in a close-to-literal way.

When Mumbo spoke again, it was soft, tentative. “Grian, you can’t carry on like this. You need sleep.”

“I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Far as I can tell we haven’t found the murderer yet, I’m of no use unconscious.”

“Well, you’re certainly not going to be of any use to us if you’re dead.”

“You’ve been sleeping less than me. That’s not fair.”

“I’m a vampire, Grian. I don’t need to sleep as much as you. I’ll take a rest too, if you want, I don’t think I can get much more done today.”

“That’s— I can’t, Mumbo, why won’t you let me—“

While Grian’s voice had been steadily rising in pitch and volume, Mumbo’s stayed soothingly consistent. “Because I care about you. Because I—“ his eyes darted across Grian’s face for a moment; Grian felt the hand on his cheek shift to his jaw, thumb below his lip, pinky brushing his pulse. Mumbo took one shuddering breath before their lips connected. After only a moment— far too short— Mumbo pulled away, frantically searching Grian’s face for some kind of reaction. Grian didn’t give him the chance to figure it out, chasing his lips, his hand moving from Mumbo’s shoulder to catch in his hair. Mumbo startled before kissing back, clearly just as impatient as Grian was. How long had they both wanted this?

Still, something nagged at him, rang in his ears. Useless. He couldn’t convince himself that he deserved any of this. Why these long nights, the nightmares everything they had suffered, was it really just to kiss his best friend in a pile of their hard work?

The worst part was, he knew Mumbo was right. He couldn’t go on like this. If only there was something he could do, some way to keep going. More energy. An idea struck him— it was a bad idea, but it was the only one he had. He couldn’t do any more, but Mumbo could. All he needed was a little blood. That was something Grian could do. After all, he wasn’t using it for anything.

He broke from the kiss for a moment, long enough to whisper an apology, before rising to meet his mouth once again, this time driving pointed teeth into his lower lip. He tried to suppress a grimace at the odd feeling of blood leaving his face, knowing Mumbo’s fangs anchoring his mouth in place would make any kind of expression painful. It would have been better to get an artery, he knew, but this was the best way he could think of, the best way to put his worthless blood to use. Maybe he could have just cut open a wrist, maybe the smell could be enough, but then again, maybe Mumbo would see it coming and throw him out. He shuddered at the thought, pulling Mumbo closer against him, feeling teeth push deeper into his lip. Ah, and Mumbo had told him it didn’t work that way, didn’t he? So this really was the best way. Hands curled around his face, thumbs gently maneuvering the fangs from his mouth, painstakingly detangling him from this mess he had started. Cool, fresh air flooded the new space between them, and clarity hit him like a freight train.

What was he doing? Did he seriously consider slitting his wrist just to force his best friend into something he very obviously did not want to do? He forced himself to make eye contact with Mumbo, dark eyes meeting red ones, blown wide in shock. Hands dropped from his face, and he crumpled to the ground without Mumbo’s support. The vampire took one step back, another, then he was running. Grian didn’t get up. He wasn’t sure if he could. A bit of blood welled up on his lip, dripping unceremoniously onto the paper-strewn carpet.

Ah the italics didn’t transfer. Thats ok. You can imagine. Love you mochi!!!

🦕

NONNIE. NONNIE PLEASE COME BACK. PLEASE. IM EXPLODING INTO A MILLION PIECES WHAT DO YOU MEAN MUMBO RAN OFF AND GRIAN JUST SAT THERE I /POS /POS /POS

I’m so. Okay. Okay okay okay. I am in love with this. like I can 100% see this unfolding in songbird. grian and mumbo feel SO spot on. like sb!grian would absolutely try and trick mumbo into drinking his blood through a kiss if it meant it helped him out. I’m so. MMMMMMMMMMMM

I love this. I love seeing a potential route of “hey this could lead to their kiss or a confession” I am in LOVE. I love them,,, and I adore how gentle mumbo was and grian’s stubbornness and MWAH. this is so lovely oh my goodness

wahhhh thank you 🥹💕 and if you ever want to write a part two please feel free omg

[morelikeravenbore]

✨Don't Tell Ominis

I wrote this fun oneshot for my dear friend @sleepywitchlory, whose MC Lory is as sweet, kind and loyal as she is, and whose friendship in this fandom I will always treasure and keep close to my heart.

Content warnings: none, unless you're triggered by offensive footwear. SFW.

Word count: 1.9k

Lory and Alistair belong to @sleepywitchlory.

[my hogwarts legacy masterlist]

Accidentally conjuring a dragon with Ancient Magic wasn't exactly what most would consider a stroke of luck, but as the secret entrance to the Undercroft slammed shut behind her, Aurélie thought herself very lucky on several accounts: first, that the dragon had been small, as far as dragons go; second, that Sebastian hadn't been there to witness her embarrassing blunder (because, as enthusiastic as he was about her practising her magic, she felt certain even he would draw the line at conjuring fire-breathing demon-lizards in a school; and third, that she'd managed to escape said demon-lizard without so much as a singed hair (hers, not the dragons.)

Luck — if one ignored the extremely unlucky circumstances that directly proceeded it — was on her side.

Read on 👇

Or so she thought, until the sound of approaching footsteps broke the still silence of the empty Defence tower, announcing the swift arrival of unidentified others.

Merde.

Fearing her luck had already run out, Aurélie raised her wand, intending to conceal herself under a hasty disillusionment, when a familiar voice gave her pause.

'Ouch!' hissed the voice from somewhere close by. 'Sebastian, that's my foot!'

'Bloody hell, Lory,' replied a second, much louder voice, 'if you'd stop clutching my arm so hard -'

'Will you both shut up before somebody hears us?'

Moments later, Aurélie breathed a sigh of relief as three slightly disheveled and out-of-breath figures appeared from beneath the guise of magical concealment. Luck had come to her aid again, but this time in the form of three of her four best friends, who each stared back at her with wildly varying expressions on their faces: surprise (Lory, pleasant), skepticism (Sebastian, shrewd), and indifferent (Alistair, cold.)

'Aura!' said Lory cheerfully, her strawberry-blonde hair gilded under the warm the torchlight.

'Aura?' echoed Sebastian, less cheerfully, his wild brown curls standing up in disarray.

Alistair, standing slightly away from the others, said nothing.

'What are you doing here?' Lorraine Jones, ever the sweet-natured Hufflepuff, saw nothing nefarious in her best friend being out past curfew and was simply happy to be united again. 'Were you in the Undercroft?' she asked, linking their arms together. 'You smell different. Like... charcoal?'

'She's right,' agreed Sebastian, leaning in to take an exaggerated a whiff of Aurélie's vivid red hair, 'you stink.'

'Hey!'

'Why were you in the Undercroft?' he went on, his brown eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. Where Lory's natural kindness saw only the best in every situation, Sebastian's Slytherin nature meant he was predisposed to believe the exact opposite. 'Were you alone? How long have you been down there? Why didn't you ask me to come?'

'Who cares why she was in the Undercroft,' muttered Alistair, who, generally speaking, didn't care much what anyone did so long as it didn't encroach on him. 'Why aren't we going into the Undercroft?'

Aurélie threw her arms out wide.

'No!' she cried as the dark-haired Slytherin made for the concealed entrance. 'You can't go in there!'

Alistair Cushing, distant descendant of Salazar Slytherin, inarguably the most intimidating student in the entire school, and - thanks to Lory's innate ability to befriend quite literally anyone or any thing - the newest addition to their friend group, fixed her with a piercing blue-eyed stare, clearly affronted

'And why not?' he asked, his calm tone thick with a disdain only those borne of Slytherin blood could afford; Alistair, like his cousin Ominis, did not take kindly to being told what to do.

'Yeah!' agreed Sebastian, elbowing him out of the way. 'Why not?'

'Because I said so!' snapped back Aurélie, who was not descended from ancient, all-powerful Parselmouths, but from a very long line of equally-formidable French women.

Alistair raised his eyes to the ceiling, silently praying for patience, while beside her, still clinging to Aurélie's arm, Lory bounced on the balls of her feet.

'Oooh,' she giggled, pinching her best friends elbow, 'did you sneak a boy down there, Aura?'

'What?' Aurélie's spluttered cry of indignation was rivalled only by that of Sebastian's.

'What boy?' they said in unison.

'What boy?' repeated Sebastian. 'Did you show someone the Undercroft? The Undercroft is supposed to be a secret! You're not allowed to do that!'

'Why not? You showed it to me!' Aurélie retorted.

'And me!' added Lory.

'Me, too,' came from Alistair.

Sebastian pulled a face. 'Yeah, well...' he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. 'You lot are different. That doesn't count. Only I'm allowed to share the knowledge of the Undercroft.'

'Excuse me?' Alistair rounded on him, standing taller in his indignation. 'The Undercroft has been known by my descendants for a thousand years, I do not need your permission to -'

'Oh, please,' Sebastian interrupted, rolling his eyes as Alistair bared down on him. 'You're like Ominis' third cousin, it's hardly a connection to boast about.'

'Right, and you're the third cousin of nobody, so why do you get to set the rules -'

'Because I've been using the Undercroft since first year!'

'So what? My family's been using it since the school was founded!'

Aura and Lory exchanged a silent, long-suffering look.

'Now, now, you two,' Lory intervened, stepping between the arguing boys with her palms raised. 'Play nice, or Aura won't tell us about her romantic rendezvous in the Undercroft.'

'Lory, I did not sneak a boy into the Undercroft! The only boys I know are...' she gestured vaguely at the two Slytherins before them, the taller of which groaned aloud and rolled his eyes.

'For the love of Salazar,' muttered Alistair, 'has there ever in the entire thousand-year history of Hogwarts been a Ravenclaw who gave a straight answer? Because I've certainly never met one.' He turned to fix Aurélie with his signature ice-prince glare. 'Why,' he said very deliberately, 'are we not allowed in the Undercroft?'

Aurélie gulped.

'Because I -' She shot a panicked look between each of her friends, wondering how much longer her luck was going to hold out. So far, beyond her narrow escape from her little magical mishap, luck had kept away any meddling prefects, professors or ghosts, and ensured that the roaring of the accidental dragon couldn't be heard several floors above it. At any rate, it was no good trying to hide a bloody dragon; someone was bound to notice eventually, so she might as well just admit to her mistake and hope that somehow luck would, well... fix it.

'Because, I - well, because I accidentally conjured a dragon down there.'

The silence that followed was so dense Aurélie had to wiggle her finger in her ear. Three stunned faces gaped back at her, and then, all at once -

'You conjured a what?'

'You conjured a dragon where?'

'Ooh, can we name it Nugget?'

'Lory, please,' Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. 'We've been over this, you cannot keep a dragon as a pet.'

Lory pouted. 'But why?'

'I don't understand,' Alistair cut in, one brow arched so high Aurélie was sure it would never come down again. 'If you conjured it, why can't you just... un-conjure it?'

'No!' cried the two girls in unison, their combined outrage echoing through the tower with enough force to wake the entire school.

'Are you mad? You can't just un-conjure an animal!'

'It's a living creature, Alistair!'

'How would you like it if I un-conjured you?'

'How could you be so unfeeling?'

'Bad move, Cushing,' Sebastian chuckled, clapping the tall bewildered Slytherin on the shoulder. 'I know you're only new to the group, but there are two rules you need to observe if you want to stay on the girls' good sides: never threaten Lory's Beasts, and never question Aura's fashion advice.'

'Yes, speaking of!' said Aurélie sharply, eyeing Sebastian's feet with disdain. 'I thought we agreed against those shoes!'

'Uh... t-these shoes? Are you sure? I don't recall, I think you're confused with my other shoes...'

'They are pretty ugly, Sebby,' Lory agreed, wrinkling her nose at the offending monstrosities that Sebastian considered appropriate footwear.

Aurélie threw her hands up, exasperated. 'They're hideous! We talked about this, you promised you were going to get rid of them!'

'Aw, bad move, Sallow,' smirked Alistair. 'Perhaps you need a refresher on those rules, hm?'

'Never mind my shoes!' Sebastian scowled, dodging away from a very condescending shoulder pat. 'Id say the more pressing matter is the literal dragon -'

'Nugget,' Lory interjected.

' - a literal unnamed dragon,' he continued, raising his voice, 'that someone decided to conjure in our Undercroft.'

Aurélie bristled. 'I didn't decide to -'

' — just seems a very unlikely thing to do by accident —'

'— on earth would I want to purposely conjure a —'

'— what goes on in your head half the time —'

'Enough!'

It wasn't often that Lorraine Jones lost her temper. She was, after all, the temperate voice of reason among the chaos; the gentle Hufflepuff influence who took all sides into consideration and mediated the best outcome for everyone. She was the temperate warmth to Alistair's coldness; the voice of reason to Sebastian's impulsivity; and a true friend to Aurélie, who'd shown up at Hogwarts two years prior, alone, overwhelmed, and grieving the untimely death of her parents. Without Lory, their unlikely friend group would be nothing but a fractured band of orphans, misfits and outcasts; Aurelie in her Ravenclaw tower, the three snakes in the dungeons, each of them separated by grief, isolated by trauma.

Lory was undoubtedly the glue that kept them all together - but, Merlin, when she was angry...

'Sebastian!' she snapped, jabbing a small but mighty finger at his face. 'For once in your life, shut up! And Aurélie!' she went on, interrupting the face she was pulling at Sebastian. 'Stop arguing with him!' Finally, she turned her wrath to the dark-haired boy, but when he only raised an unconcerned brow, she opened her mouth, closed it, then turned away, shrugging.

'Now,' she said, planting her hands firmly on her hips. 'Aura made a mistake, but bickering about it isn't going to get banish a dragon now, is it? Really, we should consider ourselves lucky that the situation isn't much worse!'

'Lucky?' Alistair echoed, laughing for quite possibly the first time in his entire life. 'Oh, my dear friends, facing a dragon is the least of your worries now.'

Sebastian frowned, clearly as confused as the rest of them. But then a slow-dawning horror broke across his face. 'Oh,' he said.

Aurélie paled, envisioning a dragon loose in the school, Hogwarts destroyed by fire, or worse - expulsion.

'What?' she demanded, palms sweaty. 'Sebastian Sallow, don't "oh" me! What is Alistair talking about?'

'Oh ho ho,' he said again, but this time with laughter in his voice. He turned to Alistair. 'You know, it isn't really my Undercroft, is it, Cushing?'

'For once in your life, Sallow, you are correct. Nor is it mine, really, being, as you mentioned, only a very distant relative to the Gaunt's. Hardly a connection at all, when you think about it.'

Aurélie turned, panic-stricken, to face her best friend.

'Oh, no,' she said.

'Oh, no,' Lory agreed.

Alistair cracked a rare smile. 'There's only one true owner of the Undercroft, after all...'

'And you, my favourite little Ancient Magic weilder,' Sebastian said, throwing an arm around Aurélie's shoulders, 'just stuck a great dirty dragon in the middle of the Heir of Slytherin's most treasured room.'

Luck fleed before her, leaving cold dread in its wake as a new set of echoing footsteps moved slowly toward them, accompanied by the unmistakeable red glow of a semi-sentient wand.

Ominis' sharp voice reached them first, slicing through the heavy silence like severing charm.

'You did what in my Undercroft?'