#guys I’m normal I swear my mom says I don’t need to be medicated

[blowflyfag]

Rolling joints not to smoke them but to do something cause you’re to nervous to just sit around.

[amalyze]

It’s been a while. Depression sucks. I feel like I’m living with narcississ/around them daily. Always so demanding, having to walk on egg shells, everything is their way or it’s not good enough. My dad calls constantly and with his dementia he leaves me nasty voicemails if I don’t answer the second he calls. My getting my daughter breakfast and on the bus isn’t anywhere near as important as him swearing at me is first thing in the morning because he didn’t take his medication on time and is having a fit about something. My mom guilt trips me and has to check on me even if I’m not well she has to call every half hour to make sure I’m okay. I can’t rest because people will not pitch in and take care of anything. I have to organize everything and when I ask for help there’s some excuse as to why they can’t mostly because they are too busy and can’t be bothered. I’m the one people call to run and jump because every day SOMETHING is an emergency for someone. I just don’t want to wake up in the mornings anymore because I’m so triggered by everyone going off on me. It sets me up for a bad day. I can’t breathe anymore. I’m just so smothered by people and all they want is to have me do all the things for them, planning, scheduling, driving, caring for… I need a break. Is it even normal to get an average of 52 phone calls daily? Most of which being the same people calling over and over and over again back to back leaving multiple messages over a minute long. Doesn’t matter if I set designated days and times to call people and create boundaries for myself because they are always pushed aside and when I’ve had enough I’m the bad guy. I’m the one who is all upset and treating people poorly and shouldn’t be acting out in such a manner. I should know better. I should do better. I should be better. I just need a break. I need people to respect me but they probably don’t even see me as a person that they could even try to treat decently. I’m so tired. Then I read books on narcissistic behavior and it basically says to take care of yourself because you can’t make people change and they will just continue to belittle and berate you. Nice to know there’s nothing you can actually do to fix it. I’m so tired of it all. How can so many damn lives fall apart an hour after waking up every single morning because I’m not there to do it all? And if I say no, I get calls from others about how dare I and how awful I am to family and need to get a grip, they just need help and clearly it’s my responsibility. If I avoid they send the police looking even if I say my phone will be off for one day. Police get mad and tell me I need to respond to my family and not avoid them, I’m so lucky I have them, I should be more grateful… and I would be grateful too if I had time to myself, for myself, regularly, but I don’t. Because I’m not allowed. Because I don’t matter. And that’s my depressed rant for tonight. I don’t want to deal with this crap again tomorrow. Ugh.

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-seven

It’s update day! xx 

Chapter title is from “Say It All” by Liam Payne (y’all I know some of Liam’s music is...questionable, but this song is really good I swear)

Warnings: angst, mention of a suicide attempt

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sometimes it’s bad, you know that I notice

“I don’t need the goddamn crutch—Oh, hey babe.”

Aaron gives you a stern look from the kitchen. He’s still going into the BAU today, but he stopped by your apartment early to make breakfast – and to hopefully keep you from coming into the BAU when you’re not allowed back yet.

Currently, your mom is trying to get you to use the crutch – which you don’t need, by the way – to walk the short distance from the bedroom to the living room. It’s absurd.

“You need to use it,” Aaron says. “At least until you’re steady again.”

“I’m perfectly steady.”

“You’re limping,” he replies. Your mom nods in agreement, but you ignore her.

“Okay, you try getting shot and not limping.”

If your mother wasn’t here, you’re not sure what kind of punishment that comment would’ve just landed you.

And knowing Aaron, he’s keeping track for later when you’re alone.

You plop down on the couch, muffling your whimper of pain. You haven’t had any pain medication yet because you just woke up. Aaron didn’t tell you he was coming, so the surprise was nice, except for the fact that you had fallen asleep only three hours earlier.

It’s hard to sleep. But you’re not telling Aaron that right now.

He can probably see it in your eyes, anyway. Doesn’t mean you’re going to tell him, though.

“Any new cases yet?” You ask, grabbing the blanket and throwing it over your bare legs. You sleep without pants normally, but with your mom here, you slept in shorts.

“No,” Aaron says from the stove, his back facing you. “But a new case is the least of your worries. The doctor said you won’t be in the field for another two months, at least.”

“Yeah, but I could hang out with Garcia and help you guys from here.”

He pauses. “I’ll think about it.”

“Honey, you need to relax and rest,” your mom chides. She sits down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about anybody but you right now.”

“You know how hard that is for me, right?”

“I know,” she chuckles. “But you have to try for me.”

Your mom has been the definition of a mother hen the entire time, starting last week when she arrived at the hospital. You’re not surprised, not really. She was the same way when you were a teenager and nearly took your own life when you rolled her car. You didn’t tell her it wasn’t an accident until a few months later, but you think deep down she always knew.

“What’s for breakfast?” You question, picking your head up from your mom’s shoulder.

“Eggs and toast,” Aaron replies. “Do you want anything else?”

“That’s good.” You put your head back on your mom’s shoulder, sighing. “When do they need you back at work?”

“Probably tomorrow,” she murmurs. “They’ve been really lenient about giving me these days off.”

“I’m glad they did,” you whisper.

“Me too, baby, me too,” she says, squeezing you closer. “Sometimes you just need your momma.”

“I definitely needed my momma,” you chuckle sadly.

You kept it together remarkably well while the team was in your room that day at the hospital. And you only cried a couple times with Aaron. But when your mom got there, the dam finally broke, and everything you had been holding back, everything you hadn’t processed yet, it all came out.

“I wasn’t ready,” you had cried into your mom’s chest, gripping her shirt as tight as you could, careful of the IV deep in your vein. “I’m not ready to die.”

“I know, baby,” she was sobbing too. “I know.”

It even went as far as her asking you if you still…wanted to work in the BAU after this. You looked at her like she was crazy, but you know now that she meant well. She was worried sick for you, and she doesn’t want this to happen again.

You don’t either. So, you’re just going to be a lot more careful from here on out.

It’s not like you have a choice. You imagine it’ll be absolute hell trying to get Aaron to let you even so much as join Penelope for a few months before you’re ready to go back out in the field.

The three of you eat breakfast on the couch (you don’t have a dining table, and you’re not up for climbing on a stool when your leg is aching this bad right now), mostly in silence.

After breakfast is eaten and plates are shoved in the dishwasher, your mom heads for the shower, giving you and Aaron another short moment alone before he has to leave for work.

He turns toward you and grabs one of your hands, kissing your knuckles before holding it between both his hands. You smile.

“I want to mention this to you now, so you aren’t caught off guard,” he starts, and you’re already worried. “I’m not supposed to tell you in advance, but given what you’ve been through in your past, let alone the last week, I decided to bend the rules.”

“Just tell me already,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “What is it?”

“I’ve ordered a psych eval for you. In two weeks.”

You blink. “What?”

Aaron sighs. “It’s standard procedure for any agent, and they are normally random as your career goes on. But sometimes when something like this happens, I order one out of precaution.”

You’re still trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying, so your reply is less than eloquent and comes out more accusatory than you mean it to. “You think I’m unstable.”

“Y/N, you were shot,” he says, like you needed a reminder. “You almost died.”

“And?” You furrow your eyebrows. “I didn’t, I’m fine.”

“It’s a traumatic experience – for anyone.”

“I’m fine, Aaron,” you repeat, sensing one of his famous lectures in your future.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he says firmly. “If you’re fine, then the evaluation will be a breeze, and you can put it behind you easily.”

You glare at him. “Don’t taunt me.”

“I’m not trying to taunt you,” he says gently. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am okay, Aaron. I’m telling you myself. I’m alright.”

“I need to be sure,” he says. Then, because he knows you won’t give this up, he adds, “Strauss was the one who originally suggested it, and I only agreed with her. I can’t cancel it now. It’ll be okay.”

“You’re not the one having your mental state poked and prodded. It’s like they search for something wrong.”

“That’s their job.”

“Well it’s annoying,” you mumble.

“Well, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to get over it.”

You stare back at him, both stunned and turned on that he said that to you (you’re very angry with the latter because now is not the time to be turned on).

“I know it’s not ideal,” he continues. “But I was already thinking about ordering one after the case in your hometown.”

You don’t mean to, but you yank your hand out of his grip. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he replies, not trying to reach for your hand again, but wanting to. “But I didn’t because you took those few days off and seemed better after when we went to dinner.”

“If you tell me that you only asked me out to dinner because you wanted to profile me the entire night, I will smack you.”

“That would not be wise,” he says, using a tone that does something to you – and he knows this, you’re sure. “And of course that’s not why I asked you to dinner. You know that.”

“I know,” you exhale, closing your eyes. “I just…really don’t like psych evals.”

Aaron sighs. He can’t cancel the evaluation once it’s set, so that’s out of the question. But he hates seeing you like this. “Can I ask why?”

You don’t want to answer him, but he’s waiting, so you do. “They always want to tell me that I can’t be an agent because of what I went through,” you mutter. “I always have to say I’m completely past it and recovered, because one single mention of my PTSD, and how I’m human and have some bad days, and they think I’m unfit to be an agent.” You pause, your good friend Imposter Syndrome rearing its ugly head. “I’m not, right? I can still be an agent.”

“Yes,” Aaron nods sincerely. “You can. You are remarkable at your job. And the team would be at a loss without you. And I’m not just saying that because I love you.” He pauses, “But…you do need to be in a somewhat stable mindset for it.”

Back to square one. “So you do think I’m unstable.” Now it is accusatory, and you don’t even care.

“No—”

“You think I can’t do this job. You honestly think I can’t do my job.”

“That’s not what I think, Y/N, listen to me—”

“I can see it in your eyes, Hotch!” You cry, not meaning to raise your voice, but it happened anyway, and he sits back, stunned. You shake your head, angry at yourself and still angry with him. “You’re gonna be late. You should go.”

“Y/N…”

“I need to think, Aaron,” you reply, your voice barely loud enough to hear. “Please. I don’t want to keep going and say something I’ll really regret and make it even worse. And you don’t need to be late to work.”

He knows you’re right. He’s never late to work, so he shouldn’t start now. He’s already walking a thin line by going in exactly on time. He’s usually thirty minutes if not an hour before anyone else. The team knows about your relationship with Hotch, but God forbid Strauss calls for him and he’s not there.

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll come by later tonight, okay?”

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Text me.”

“I will.”

You don’t want him to go without a kiss, and you know he won’t lean in first when you’re upset. So, you do.

Aaron closes the gap, holding your face gently, kissing you smoothly and slowly. His apology, or his first form of one.

+++

Your argument – was it an argument? Or just a disagreement? Or was it a fight?

It definitely wasn’t a fight. No voices were raised – well, yours did, but you stopped yourself. His never did. He hasn’t really raised his voice at you since that first night in the hotel together.

That was a fight. This was only a…disagreement.

After all, you still walked him to the door and you both said “I love you” before he left. If it was a fight, you wouldn’t have done that.

But still your mind doesn’t like arguments like this. When it’s not sexy, tension is never your friend.

And the disagreement being about a fucking psych eval makes it worse.

You’ve never told anyone this, but you almost didn’t get the job with the BAU for this reason. Hotch requested your transfer, yes, but if the psychiatrist says you’re unfit for the job, then there’s nothing Hotch could do to reverse it. Technically, you would’ve been banned from working for the FBI for a number of years, only reversible if upon a second psych eval you were deemed recovered and fit to be an agent.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and you got the job. It was still written in your file that you had PTSD from sexual assault at 19 and that you had seen a therapist in the past in your teenage years. Hotch knew all of this when he hired you, and he didn’t care.

Why does he care so much now?

“He’s just looking out for you, honey,” your mom tries to explain. “He didn’t know the real reason for your PTSD back then. And now you’re in a relationship, and you were just injured on the job. He has to be blaming himself for this, too, I imagine.”

“Oh, I have no doubt he’s blaming himself.” You haven’t had a chance to ask him about that or to talk his brain out of doing it, but you will. “I just—I’m not the first one to ever be injured, you know? Penelope was shot multiple times a couple years ago. Derek has gotten hit up the head more times than I can remember. Emily was badly beat up when her and Reid got held hostage on one case – Hell, Reid was fucking kidnapped by a serial killer years ago!”

Your mom stares at you in alarm. “Maybe I don’t want you doing this.”

“Mom,” you groan. “Do you hear what I’m saying? Hotch is treating me different.”

She thinks for a second. “Do you know if he’s had them go through a psych eval after what happened to them?”

You shake your head. You could ask, but it might be kind of weird to bring that up out of nowhere. And you don’t want Hotch to think you don’t trust his judgment.

Even though his judgment is pissing you off right now.

“He probably did,” your mom shrugs.

“Okay, let’s say he did, it still doesn’t explain why he’s so—”

“Y/N, my dear, he loves you.”

You pause, eyebrows furrowed. “I know he does.”

Your mom shakes her head, smiling sadly. “You don’t. You know he loves you, but not how much. But I see it.” She pauses. “He would bring the moon down to Earth for you to hug if you asked him. That’s what your grandma used to say about grandpa.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“It’s exactly how Aaron looks at you.”

You wonder for a moment if this is your mom doing her thing again. Her thing, meaning, when she gets heart eyes. When she wants the absolute best for you, which is always, but sometimes gets too excited and takes it too far. When she moves faster than you. When she wants things for you that you aren’t ready for.

“I don’t know about that,” you say quietly.

She smiles. “You don’t want to believe he could love you that much, and that’s okay, but you’re going to have to let him. Because he does love you that much, and nothing you say is going to stop him. No amount of pushing him away is ever going to make him go.”

“I can’t let myself think that way,” you admit. “Because the second I do—I’m afraid he is going to go away and get tired of me and dealing with all of me.”

“You can’t think like that, baby.”

“I know.”

“Oh, come here,” your mom laughs, wiping tears from her eyes. “Don’t make me cry before I have to leave. I’m liable to tell them I can’t come in tomorrow.”

“No, you have to go,” you tell her, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be okay. Just a phone call away, remember?”

It’s what you told her probably every five minutes when you got your first job in Virginia, hours away from her. Working at the BCI was the first time in your life that you’d be hours away from your mom. It was hard on the both of you.

“I know, and I will be calling more, and you better pick up.”

“I’ll never ignore your phone calls.”

“Good,” she chuckles.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“What is it?”

“What you said earlier…about Aaron being your son-in-law…”

“Oh, I was just joking around,” she says. “Why?”

“I mean, just that. I didn’t know if you were serious or anything.”

Her eyes widen. “Has he asked you to marry him?”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No. He hasn’t.”

“Do you want him to?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh nervously. “I don’t know at all, but maybe? I haven’t thought about marriage since… And I don’t know. I don’t know if Aaron even wants that, I mean, he just went through a divorce, so.”

“Well,” she pats your leg, “you’ll figure it out in time.”

“Yeah, we will,” you smile, trying to let it go as easily as she has. But you don’t think you’ll be able to.

Next chapter

[comehomeducklings]

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

[lloydshoulddyehishair]

Home Is Where You Are

Summary:  Morro loved his cousin more than anything in the world. Sadly, the rest of Ninjago couldn't seem to share that kind of affection. or In which Lloyd gets stabbed and Morro would like to do nothing more than join forces with his uncle and burn the entire city down.

[Movieverse]

Sometimes Morro wanted to beat up the world. Punch it until its only remains were about the size of a football and then burn it until the ashes of the ashes had ashes.

Sometimes, was most of the time.

But it really wasn’t his fault that the world had to be a stupid place filled with stupid people, that formed a stupid society that had somehow normalized the bullying of a fifteen year old boy, for something he had no control over.

That fifteen year old boy also happened to be his cousin, Lloyd Garmadon, son of evil Lord Garmadon, a warlord who attacked Ninjago on a weekly basis, trying to conquer it.

And while, obviously, everyone in Ninjago had labelled Lord Garmadon as “evil”, their tiny, tiny brains (if brains the size of a peanut could even pass for brains anymore) somehow had come up with the idea that Lloyd was “evil” too. Why? Because he was his son. Simple as that.

No one cared about the fact that the boy had never met his dad, hell, he had never even as much as exchanged a single word with him and Morro wasn’t even sure if Garmadon knew that his son existed.

But somehow that went over everyone’s heads because Lloyd Garmadon was blamed for every attack and every inconvenience in the city – he was easily the second most hated person in Ninjago, right after Lord Garmadon himself, of course.

The thing was, Lord Garmadon had it easy – in Morro’s humble opinion – because the warlord got to attack the city and then simply vanish back into his volcano in the middle of the sea – with no one able to reach him. And with Lord Garmadon being out of reach, Lloyd had to catch all the fists flying at him, all the insults people would throw against his head. The people just wanted to let their hatred and frustration out at someone – and that someone, was his little cousin.

Morro did his best to protect him as much as he possibly could, he loved the boy with his whole heart, he was his whole pride and joy. He was like a light in a dark for him, leading his way, giving him something to hold onto. But sadly, Morro wasn’t always able to be there, when he needed him. He couldn’t always pick fights for Lloyd and he knew that the fifteen year old would rather die than fight someone. His cousin wasn’t much for physical violence.

He understood why, though.

If Lloyd were to snap, it would be instantly used by everyone as some stupid “evidence” that he was just like his father, that he was evil and that he was going to destroy them all and join forces with Lord Garmadon.

Bullshit. The elder hated how stupid and blind Ninjago's citizens were.

Lloyd wasn’t evil, never had been evil, never even did anything remotely evil.

They were the real bad guys. All of them. Hypocrites. How dare they call his baby cousin a “villain-in-the-making” when they were the ones cursing him out, insulting him on the daily, trending disgusting songs about him and beating him up. And what did Lloyd do? He just took it. Took all the insults, took all the punches, never daring to stand up for himself or returning the favor. And why?

Because Lloyd was good.

Too good, for his own good, Morro thought as he looked up at his cousin's face, seeing silently tears streaming over his cheek.

“Tell me who did this to you,” the raven head's voice stern and stable as his hands made his way to his bleeding abdomen again, pushing a tissue on it to try and stop the bleeding.

Lloyd bit his lip, like he always did when he was nervous. His eyes continued to stare at the tiles of Morro’s bathroom, filling with tears once again. He shook his head quickly, blond locks stained with blood falling into his face.

“Lloyd.”

A sigh escaped him.

He loved his cousin but sometimes he just wanted to take him and squeeze his stubbornness out of him.

“This wasn’t a usual attack anymore, Lloyd. They stabbed you! They are getting bolder with their stupidity. You need to go to the police with this, they–”

“‘They’ what?” Lloyd’s head turned to him, looking at him in desperation and anger. “Don’t you get it? The police don't care about what happens to me! They could find me bleeding out on the street and they would just walk over me as if I were–,” the words suddenly seemed to be stuck in his throat, making him lower his gaze, once again, in – in embarrassment? In sadness? He wasn’t sure.

Morro’s eyes widened slightly, once he realized that Lloyd was right.

The police were just as shitty as the rest of the citizens of Ninjago. They already treated him as if he were a criminal, even though Lloyd probably had the cleanest criminal record in the whole city.

Stupid police, stupid people, stupid–

He silently nodded to himself, trying to think of what they were going to do next.

“Okay, no police then, but we need to get you to the hospi–”

“No!” The teen interrupted him once again, which was honestly getting quite annoying. Usually he would be the one interrupting the other. “No hospital! My mom can’t know about this and–” a hiss escaped his lips as Morro pulled the tissue from his wound, dry blood ripping from his skin. “–we can’t afford it. We need to deal with this on our own, it’s not that deep anyways.”

“Lloyd, it’s a stab wound.”

“I’ve gotten away with worse injuries, without going to the hospital.”

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Morro was quite aware of the dozen of times Lloyd would come back from battle with his Ninja Gi looking way too much like Kai’s because – oh, hadn’t he mentioned?

Lloyd was the Green Ninja, sworn to protect Ninjago from his father. Protecting the people that bullied him. Just another reason he sometimes wanted to burn this city down and go a bit warlord like his uncle – but that would also mean that he would, probably, have to fight Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. So he shrugged his warlord ambitions under the rug.

“Okay, we can deal with this,” the elder bit the inside of his cheek, silently wishing for his dad to be here to deal with this instead.

He didn’t like seeing Lloyd hurt. It broke his heart.

“It’ll need stitches, though.”

He noticed immediately how the younger's palms started to grab the rim of the bathtub he was sitting on, as if his life depended on it, knuckles going white. “Okay,” he gritted out quietly.

He hated this, everything about this. It felt so, so wrong.

Lloyd shouldn’t be sitting in his bathroom, white as a sheet, seemingly near to passing out from blood loss. Morro shouldn’t have to stitch him up because he couldn’t go to the hospital or the police. His tiles shouldn’t be coated in Lloyd’s blood. And for fucks sake, Lloyd shouldn’t have been spotting a stab wound to begin with.

“I hate this too you know,” the blond’s voice was quiet but audible, nonetheless. Morro could only nod as he grabbed his medical kit from the cabinet.

---------------------------------------------

"If I had the chance to, I'd kill the people that did this to you."

"I know, that's why I'm not giving you their names," Lloyd's voice sounded a bit too calm, too collected to be talking about the people that had just tried to kill him.

Morro hid his face behind his palms, trying his best not to scream in frustration. "You shouldn't be protecting them like this. They're criminals, they tried to murder you and all you do is– is–,” a groan escaped his lips.

“Lloyd, I swear to fucking god, you can't keep doing this.”

His words made the room go quiet, not one of the teens daring to say another word. The nineteen year old's eyes wandered over to look at his cousin, who was currently busy biting onto his lip, his expression unreadable and Morro worried that he might have gone too far.

The young teen’s head tilted, teary emerald eyes meeting his own. “Do you think I like this?” a bitter laugh escaped him, though it sounded more like a gasp for air. “I don't like this any more than you do, believe me! You have no idea what it is like to wake up and be scared because you don't know what people will do to you! But there's nothing I can do about it and I've accepted that.”

The raven head felt the blood in his hands run cold, grabbing his cousin by the wrists, shaking him slightly. “Lloyd, you shouldn't accept it just like that! You– you deserve better than how these people treat you.”

“Morro, I know you mean well but,” the blond twisted himself out of his grip. “I was hopeful for so long. I tried to believe that people would change and I tried to let them see that I'm not who they think I am but it didn't do anything – it only made me feel worse. There's nothing I can do. I can't fight back, you know that.”

And he hated how right Lloyd was.

He still remembered how, a few years ago, the younger would cry himself to sleep every night because he just couldn't seem to find friends, no matter how hard he had tried. He still remembered how he would cling onto Morro and sob his soul out until he simply didn't have any tears to spare because he thought something was wrong with him. Otherwise the entire city wouldn't hate him, right?

Morro also still remembered the stinging pain in his chest as he had wiped away the smaller's tears and held him close – trying to be as much of a help as he could but still feeling absolutely useless.

So really, Morro was a fool to believe that Lloyd wouldn't stop caring at some point. It had done nothing but worsen the pain.

That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

“Listen, I know I've told you this many, many times before but–,” he looked out the window, onto the city that had hurt them so much. Onto the city that was ruining Lloyd's life. Onto the city that would possibly be the death of him at some point– He pushed the anger, threatening to overflow, back into the bottle of emotions where it belonged. “What they say,” he spoke quietly but with so much venom in his voice that Lloyd couldn't help but wince. “It doesn't matter. Nothing they say matters, so don't you dare put any worth onto their words–,“ anything Morro had planned to say suddenly vanished to dust as two arms threw themselves around him tightly, blond locks tickling his face.

“I know–,” his whisper left the room numb as a sob escaped his throat, his head just pushing itself more onto Morro's chest. “I know and I'm just so glad that I have you and the others.”

He could feel the tears starting to soak through his shirt and started to play with the blond strands of hair, in an attempt to calm his cousin down.

“It's just so much sometimes and I– I–,” the small voice broke and Morro could swear he could feel his eyes starting to sting.

Silent shushing and sobs were the only sound that filled the room from then on. It was almost suffocating, the contrast from his once so happy and bubbly cousin to– well, to how he was now. The citizens of Ninjago had managed to break his spirit in unimaginable ways.

They broke his baby cousin because they were stupid and egoistic, because they wanted someone to let their anger out on and decided to use Lloyd as a punching bag instead of going to therapy or something for their anger issues–

The nineteen year old, however, really shouldn't be the one talking about people and their anger issues, considering how his own bottled up anger at the citizens started to slowly make its way back to the surface once more.

“I would burn this entire city down if I could,” his voice was drenched in bitterness, Lloyd nonetheless found the strength in himself to laugh, making him calm down slightly.

“That seems like something my dad would say.”

“Well, it seems like him and I would agree on that part, then.”

“Mhm.”

Morro looked down to where his counterpart had now comfortably snuggled up on him, his eyes still puffy but no longer as teary like they were half a second ago. He released a breath he didn't know he had held.

He didn’t know how to fix this. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could fix this even if he really wanted to. The only way he knew he could protect Lloyd from this city was by simply taking him and running away, going somewhere else where nobody knew them. He knew that that was impossible though. Aunt Koko couldn’t just leave everything behind and even if she could, Lloyd probably wouldn’t even want to leave because of his duties as the Green Ninja – because he was a self-sacrificing fool who apparently never learned to put his own needs before others.

And Morro wanted to be proud of him for it – really wanted to, because his cousin sacrificed his needs for the greater good. It was brave and noble of him and he should be proud. Perhaps the nineteen year old was a terrible person for even questioning it but– Every so often, usually when Lloyd came home spotting injuries which he knew hadn’t come from fighting Garmadon, he wondered if risking your life for a city that couldn’t care less whether you were alive or dead, was worth it – and in Lloyd’s case they would probably be more than thrilled to see him gone.

Well, until they’d notice that they no longer had a Green Ninja to protect them.

Cowards.

“Your angry thoughts are practically clogging up the air. Can you turn them down, for just one second–”

“Brat,” Morro huffed under his breath a small smirk placing itself onto his lips. It vanished as soon as it had appeared. “My cousin showed up on my front porch with a stab wound, I think I have every right to be angry,” Lloyd frowned, letting go of the elder.

“Morro, not this again. I swear–”

“I mean, you never show up and the only reason you did today was because you were bleeding to death. Seriously, am I not cool enough to get a visit by my annoying cousin anymore,” the raven haired teen grinned at the blond with his eyebrows raised, in an attempt to lighten the mood and get rid of the tense feeling that had settled between them ever since Lloyd had sat down in his bathroom.

He could always let out his bottled up anger on that Chen guy from the Cheer Squad. The smaller had told him something about the boy giving him a hard time, some time ago, hadn’t he?

“What? No! You’re plenty cool– I just didn’t– you know school stuff and my dad and–,”, he stumbled over his words making Morro laugh.

“Lloyd, chill,” he said, making his way up to his desk to get his phone and text Aunt Koko. She probably was already worried sick now that he thought about it “I was just messing with you. I know you’re busy, it’s fine.”

He felt the other stare at him for a second, unable to make out his thoughts, just before–

“You miss me!”

He almost dropped his phone in surprise at the sudden statement. “Wait, wait, no– Who told you that?”

“It’s obvious,” Lloyd mused, walking up behind Morro and placing his chin on his shoulder. “You miss me~ Morro misses me~”

For a second he stopped typing, sighing. “Shut up, I see you enough on TV, to not miss you– For real do they ever show something other than clips of the oh-so-great Green Ninja? Like, we got it, you’re cool and all that. Can we move on? I wanna watch the new episode of Starfarer.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Am not.”

“Sure are. Bet you wanna be the Green Ninja yourself. Do I have to lock myself in my room when I sleep at night because you might come in and murder me to take my spot–”

“Oh you definitely should because I might come in and choke you to death for being annoying,” he rolled his eyes, sending the text to his aunt. “Besides, I got my wind powers. What do I need a stupid title for anyways?”

“Not like you use them a lot,” Lloyd replied snarkily, already going over to Morro’s bed and letting himself fall onto the, in his opinion, too hard mattress. “I guess that I’m staying the night?”

Morro just nodded, already looking for more comfortable clothes for Lloyd to sleep in. “Sure are. You don’t think that I’m letting you go out alone right now, do you?”

His cousin sighs. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“We saw how that went, didn’t we?” Morro replies a bit too harshly, almost wanting to take it back immediately, but he knew he was right. The sun had already set outside and Lloyd had just gotten stitches, if he was going to be attacked there’d be no way for him to get out of that fight unharmed. So Morro was going to keep him right where he was. With him.

He only got a hum in response, the younger probably being either too tired to take up another discussion on the matter or just not caring enough to try. Either way, he was fine with it.

“Hey sleepyhead!” he called, throwing the pair of joggers and a shirt right at Lloyd’s face, making a startled cry escape the blond. “Don’t you fall asleep on my bed, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

“You’re a big meanie,” the young Garmadon mumbled, taking the clothes off of his face but smiling slightly, nonetheless.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna get some water now. If you drift off while I’m away, I will wake you up.”

And true to his word, he left the room, not even waiting for an answer from Lloyd and entering the kitchen, collapsing on one of the chairs, suddenly feeling the tension pushing him down like weights that weren’t actually there.

He buried his face in his palms as soon as he felt his eyes starting to sting.

“Get a grip,” he hissed quietly to himself. He was a Wu for God’s sake. He didn’t cry, that was something for bratty little Garmadon’s with blond hair and no sense of self-preservation, who got themselves killed almost every day and– Fuck.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, which was soon followed by hot tears streaming down his face.

He was angry. Angry at the city for treating Lloyd the way they did. Angry at Lloyd for not being more careful. Angry at himself for not having been there– But most importantly, he was scared. (Not that he was going to admit that to the Green Ninja, who already felt enough like a burden, even though he wasn’t.)

He was scared of losing his cousin. This whole ordeal had started with petty comments and glances, now they actually went out of their way and harmed him physically, stabbed him. Where was this going to end? When would it be enough for them?

Morro gulped. The only answers he could think of for these questions were terrifying and implied scenarios in which he would no longer have a little cousin to be annoyed at, he’d no longer worry if his family would still be whole after yet another Garmadon attack (because it wouldn't be whole to begin with), there’d be no more clips on TV of Lloyd fighting a bit too overdramatically and doing far too many backflips and there would be no more “Hey Emo-Boy, can I crash at your place? I’m bored” texts, hitting him at 3 am every once in a while.

A world without Lloyd would be an empty one, Morro figures. It would be cold and it would be lonely and he would rather die than live through it.

His legs carried him to the sink, filling the glass in his hands, which he didn’t remember grabbing, with water and chugging it down immediately. Maybe he should grab one of the bottles in the fridge for the teen in the other room – aside from blood loss he really did not need to face dehydration as well.

He spent a second leaning against the fridge with his forehead, desperately attempting to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t be an emotional mess in front of Lloyd, especially not now. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who always kept a clear head. 

But after stitching up your cousin's wounds you were allowed to be at least a little shaken up, he supposed.

He took a deep breath, opening the fridge and taking one of the cool water bottles, before making his way up to his room and entering it, just to be greeted by– snoring?

For fucks sake-

Morro’s eyes fell onto the boy laying still on his bed, almost about to shake him and send him to the living room to sleep, but instead he froze, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and– Oh God, if his heart hadn’t broken yet it definitely was now.

He had been so focused on his wounds and being mad at the city that he hadn’t even noticed how exhausted Lloyd looked.

He bit hard onto his lip, only watching the boy, his mind suddenly going blank.

The Son of Garmadon hadn’t even properly put the blanket over himself – but hey, at least he had changed out of his Gi. Morro was going to give him credits for that.

Walking up to the nightstand next to the bed as quietly as he could, the Master of Wind placed the bottle he was still holding onto the little table, for the other to find once he woke up.

Seemed like he would have to sleep on the couch, after all. He made a face at the thought of the back pain he was going to wake up in tomorrow, but at least Lloyd would get proper rest for a night. He could be happy enough that the boy would even be able to be here tomorrow.

Before he knew it his hands had already grabbed the blanket, softly tucking his cousin in. If Lloyd could see him right now he’d most likely call him a big sap, which he, maybe, was but it’s not like his counterpart was any better. And it wasn’t exactly like the young Ninja wasn’t testing his sanity on the daily.

He hummed quietly to himself, already walking out of the room again and turning the lights off. His eyes fell onto his sofa in the living room.

“You and me, huh?” he mumbled, looking like he was on the way towards his deathbed.

But sleeping on the sofa was worth all the back pain in the world as long as he did it for Lloyd.

Because that meant that he still had a squeaky voiced, self-sacrificial, idiot cousin to return to.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Baby (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Anon requested: “Hiii!! I jus wanna say ur writing is one of the best I've read so far (and I've read a lot). It's been a while since I've read a oneshot that made me feel tingles (u know why I mean right, it's hard to explain 😅) anyway jus wanna say I love ur writing!! Also, if u don't mind I'd like to request a fluff with bakugou where he gets his wisdom teeth removed and he just becomes the softest thing everrrrr! :) if ur not taking requests rn I dont mind if u skip this one. Adios ;)"

Thanks for the kind words and the request anon! I hope you like it~

Genre: Floof. Pure, plotless floof

Word count: 973

Tags:  @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Today was tiring as hell. I got up at 7:30 to study for my exam at 1 pm and I had a 2 hour lecture to go over after that.  I feel like I was studying for a good 10 hours today alone and I was already tired this entire week.  And it's only Wednesday... Which is why I couldn't wait to write this! I was in dire need of some plain, quick, simple, plotless floof, so I’m happy I had this request to fill next.  I hope you guys out there are in a good mental state as the semester is wrapping up, and if not I hope this cheered you up a bit!

Also (I’m a few days late but still) Ramadan Mubarak to my muslim readers/followers!  I wish you an easy fast, willpower, and spirituality in the following month. You got this!  I’ll also try to include NSFR warnings if anyone wants? I know swearing and spicy stuff aren’t allowed, but I’m not 100% sure about the fluffy stuff so let me know!

"This way, Katsuki, let's go."  I gently pull my boyfriend down the street, capturing his arm in mine to balance his wobbly gait.

He mumbles something incoherent and leans into me.  "We going home now?"

"Yup, I already picked up your medication.  Are you keeping that ice pack on your face?"

"Yeeees," he groans.  Katsuki usually hates it when I mother him, but today he really needed it.  Poor guy was scared of having his wisdom teeth removed and didn't trust anyone else to accompany him.  It's kind of endearing, especially since he's become such a giant, clumsy mess now.  "You're becoming my mom."

"Well, you are acting like a lost child right now, who else is gonna take care of you?"  I squeeze his hand reassuringly.

He hums in response before leaning onto me, "I guess I'm really lucky then."  Removing the ice pack, he pokes his cheek.  "Can you kiss it better?"

I blink, completely floored by his request.  I know the anesthesia has its effects on people, but it seems it makes Katsuki way more soft and needy than usual.

Not that I'm complaining.

I stand on my toes and peck his cold cheek.  "Is it better now?"

"Mmm, I'll probably need another dose in an hour," he encircles both of his arms around one of mine, "I'll let you know how the pain is."

Gosh, he's just gonna be adorable for the rest of the day, isn't he?   "Should I drop you home or do you want to rest at my place?"

Katsuki's arms crawl over to envelop my torso from behind.  "Your place, of course," he half giggles, his breath tickling my ear.

I chuckle at his behavior, directing us towards the nearest station.  I'm definitely gonna enjoy this.  A small part of me almost wants to record him, but I'd rather just enjoy these few moments I have of him acting this way.  I'm too nice to embarrass him like that.

Since it's the middle of the day during the week, the station and the train seats are mostly empty.  Katsuki gets comfortable, sprawling his legs across the cold bench and resting his head on my lap.  He keeps one of his hands messily entwined with mine and lets me use my free hand to play with his hair.  I gaze down at him, smiling to myself.  Katsuki being soft and lovable like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.  Of course I know he loves me already, but to see him without the whole harsh persona is definitely something else.  The blooming warmth stirs me to press a soft kiss on his forehead.  My little Katsu.

He opens his eyes to stare up at me, asking out of the blue, "Do I look or sound weird?"

The childish innocence he asks the question with makes me chuckle.  "Not at all, babe."

His crimson orbs continue boring into mine for a moment, just holding my attention, before he reaches up and brings my head down to kiss his lips.  The motion takes me by surprise since he's not the type to take PDA this far in public.  The heat rushes to my cheeks, and I'm eternally grateful that this car is almost empty, and the few people here with us are busy fiddling with their phones.

"You missed, dummy," Katsuki beams before closing his eyes again.

My heart thumps.  He's so adorable sometimes.  His toothy smile was just the right amount of cute and loving, the rarest smile I've seen only once before.  I want to melt into a puddle and pinch his cheeks

You big dork.  I continue threading my fingers into his hair, the rattling of the train relaxing the tired boy.

.

Once we arrive at my apartment, Katsuki shrugs out of his jacket and shoes and situates himself under my kotatsu, not even bothering to turn it on; he just grabbed one of the long cushions, stuck it under his body, and knocked himself onto his side.  As I'm still removing my outer clothes, he reaches one arm out and makes grabbing motions.  "Babe, come lay with me," he practically whines out.

Is he pouting?  I want to laugh at his needy behavior, but I'll admit I want to cuddle with him too.  After the procedure he's been through and the pain he's going to experience in the next few days, he deserves all the hugs he wants.  Who am I to deny him?  I plug the wire in and turn the switch on before lifting the blanket up and squirming underneath.  Without wasting any time, Katsuki pulls my body flush into his chest, wiggling both of us farther underneath.

The needy boy lets out a satisfied sigh as the blanket starts heating up.  His head pulls back to look down at me, hooded scarlet eyes trying not to close as they brim with affection.  "You're my favorite."  His thumb at my cheek softly rubs at my skin.

I close my eyes and nuzzle his hand.  "Your favorite what?"

"Anything and everything."  He plants a kiss on top of my head.  "You're just my favorite thing."

Despite the fresh wave of warm tingles humming through me, I tease him, "So I'm a thing now?"

Instead of groaning like he would under normal circumstances, he crushes me closer to his body.  "Yeah, you're my teddy bear now, and you're not going anywhere for the rest of the day."

"But what if it gets really hot under here, Katsu?"

"Nope, you're still staying," he shakes his head like a stubborn kid, his voice already drooping into sleep before he yawns.  "You have to cuddle all my pain away."

As if I need a reason to cuddle you all day, silly.  My hand pats his back in a steady rhythm.  "Whatever you say, my baby Katsu."

[whumpmatsus]

aaaa are you still taking the sickfic requests?? maybe "don't speak" with choro as the sickie pls?

SickFic Prompts / ACCEPTING!

Don’t Speak - (character) has a horribly sore throat and is reduced to barely talking while they load up on hot drinks and soup to recover.

yesssss always!!! I had so much fun with this, it hit me right in the Honey Nut Feelios and I hope it does the same for u, sunshine 😩

-

After still feeling like total crap for several days while his brothers were almost completely recovered from the cold they’d all caught, Choromatsu finally breaks down and goes to the doctor.

He doesn’t really want to. Being sick is something they all hate, and continuing to suffer after everyone else felt better is just astronomically unfair. Sometimes he thinks he can will himself back to health if only he sleeps and takes medicine and does everything a sick person is supposed to do.

The others prod at him to get checked out, though, considering the fact that lately every time he’s tried to speak, it’s set off a cough and is painful even to those just listening.

When he comes back home with a pharmacy bag and an informational sheet proclaiming that he’s been diagnosed with laryngitis, it explains a lot.

He has little choice but to hand the sheet over to Osomatsu as Karamatsu comes over to help remove his scarf and coat and walk him over to the kotatsu. The eldest of them doesn’t necessarily know best all the time, but usually when one of them is sick or hurt with more than a cold or a tiny scrape, Osomatsu often slides into big brother mode and shows a surprising amount of maturity.

For once, Choromatsu is actually glad his oldest brother is taking charge of the situation.

“Okaaaay, guys,” he calls as Choromatsu settles in at the table. “So this thing says Choromatsu has… acute laryngitis. The doctor thinks it’s because he had a cold, I guess, since it says ‘viral cause’. Huh.”

Everyone else is already seated around the kotatsu since it’s the middle of winter and freezing. Jyushimatsu’s arm shoots up right away. “Oh! What’s laryngitis? That’s a funny word. Are we gonna get it too?”

Choromatsu opens his mouth to try and explain, like usual. Instead, he manages to get out a weak, “Probably not,” before he starts to cough.

“Hey,” Osomatsu pouts as Karamatsu pats the third eldest on the back, “this thing says you’re not supposed to talk if you can help it, Fappymatsu. So, y’know… shut up.”

What he gets in return for his efforts is an unimpressed glare.

Osomatsu grins, running a finger under his nose before looking back at the information sheet. “Well, I’m not wrong! Okay, so… the cold was contagious, but it says the actual laryngitis isn’t. It’s just some kind of throat thing that happened because of the cold. So it might happen for the rest of us, but I doubt it since we’re all feeling better already. Choromatsu just has bad luck, I guess.”

Karamatsu hums in thought and continues to rub his brother’s back. “Hmph, we’re probably safe then. Which means we just have to focus on taking care of our dear brother. How do we do that?”

Choromatsu holds the bag from the pharmacy up, allowing Ichimatsu to snatch it and dump the contents out on the table. He points toward the things he picked up at the doctor’s recommendation ― over-the-counter painkillers, lozenges, a throat spray, and cough syrup. There’s other stuff mixed in too, like tissues and a jar of yuzu-cha and a magazine. Though he could have lived without everyone seeing that, it’s not a huge deal.

Osomatsu waves the paper before picking through everything on the table. “Well, it says they don’t have any kind of prescription to give him. No antibiotics since it’s viral. Looks like it says the cough medicines and painkillers might help. ‘Home remedies may also provide temporary relief’… like tea and soup, huh? So we should probably try to keep the bastard hydrated with warm stuff.”

Karamatsu gets to his feet, grabbing the jar of yuzu-cha on his way. “In that case, why don’t I go mix up some of this for you right now? After being out in the cold air, your throat could probably use something warm. Want me to add a little honey?”

Choromatsu nods eagerly, mouthing, “Yes, please.”

Karamatsu’s face brightens at being useful, and he gives an exaggerated pose before heading into the kitchen. “What a good patient! Your big brother will be back with something soothing before you know it!”

“Hold on,” Totty comments as he scoots the lozenges, spray, and syrup toward him, “did you get all this stuff to take for your throat?”

His eyes scan over the labels, then roll back in his head when he’s finished. “Ah, Choromatsu-nii-san! You can’t take all of these at the same time. See, look. They all say ‘do not use with other medications containing’ ― uh ― well ― w-well, I can’t pronounce the word, but it’s the same one! They must all contain this ingredient, so you can’t take them all in the same day.”

Ichimatsu makes a gesture for Totty to hand them over, then nods after reading them. “Yeah, he’s right. If you take all these in the same day, even if you use each one like the directions say, you’ll be basically overdosing on this shit. Your mouth’ll go numb. Be drooling all over the place and maybe having trouble breathing.”

All the medicine is plucked from his hands by Osomatsu. “Okay, so we’ll rotate ‘em, and I’ll take care of giving it to you whenever you need medicine. Y’know, so that fever doesn’t fry your brain and make you forget which one you’re taking for the day. Which one do you wanna use today?”

Choromatsu lets out a soft groan which only serves to irritate his throat further. He could seriously just kick his own ass for not checking that before he bought all of those. The only excuse he has is that he’s in a lot of pain and not thinking like he normally does. He points to the spray, thinking maybe it’ll feel kind of like sour spray candy; once it gets sprayed on, it melts and lingers for a minute, which might be a nice quality in a medicine for sore throats.

“Alright, open up.” Osomatsu tears off the plastic packaging. “Totty, Ichimatsu, did either of you see how many times I’m supposed to spray this?”

“Two sprays every two hours as needed. But it’s only supposed to stay for fifteen seconds, then he has to spit it out. He’s not supposed to swallow it or it might give him a stomachache. Totty, you wanna go get an empty cup for him to spit in and a glass of water to wash the taste out of his mouth afterwards?”

“What?? Why can’t you do it? Your legs aren’t broken!”

“Yeah, but I’m busy.”

“Are you kidding me? Doing what?!”

Ichimatsu shuffles himself closer to Choromatsu and puts an arm around his big brother. “I’m his emotional support Ichimatsu.”

Choromatsu chuckles a bit, though it turns into coughing pretty quickly.

“Oh, my God. Now you know why you’re not first in my brother rankings, right?” Totty grumbles, but gets up anyway. “Fiiiiine, I’ll be right back.”

The idea of an emotional support anything is nice, though, so Choromatsu leans into the contact, resting his head on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. As it is, the fourth eldest is almost like a cat, warm and cuddly when he feels like it.

His fever must be getting to him, because he could even swear he hears Ichimatsu purring.

-

The next three days in the Matsuno household are, predictably, a little wild.

Although Choromatsu sleeps on the couch in the other room so that his coughing doesn’t wake his brothers, it’s pretty much all for naught. At least one of them ends up missing him in the night and coming to camp out with him anyway; he just counts his lucky stars that when he needs them most, they show themselves to be pretty great brothers.

He also practically lives on soup and tea. Mom and the others try to switch it up a little, because otherwise eating and drinking the same things every day would drive him nuts. Plain miso and zosui were fine for the first day, but after he could breathe through his nose and smell things again, they started offering him other stuff.

Honestly, shogayu and negi-miso-yu have never tasted so good. Now that he can taste the yuzu-cha, too, and Karamatsu prepares some for him at least once in the afternoon, it’s like a small slice of heaven. He’s pretty sure Karamatsu can tell how grateful he is even without words, if the stupidly proud look on his older brother’s face whenever Choromatsu drinks it is any indication.

His throat still hurts like hell for a while. It’s difficult to speak, so Osomatsu, in his infinite wisdom, has relegated his brother to using a mini dry erase board and marker if he needs to say anything. That doesn’t mean Choromatsu doesn’t try to talk. He does his best not to if he doesn’t absolutely need to, however, since he wants to be rid of this thing more than anyone.

Thankfully, everyone is apparently using this as an excuse to treat him nicely. He gets to sit in front of the TV watching Nyaa-chan concerts almost nonstop, while nestling in against his emotional support Ichimatsu. Karamatsu in particular keeps checking every twenty minutes or so to see if there’s anything he can get for his little brother, and whatever Choromatsu asks for, he gets. Hell, at one point he’s craving ice cream, even though milky things aren’t a good idea for someone who’s coughing, and Karamatsu comes back with a melon ice pop, which is almost as good.

Totty even manages to do something nice while typing away on his phone. He says he’s got Choromatsu a date. With a girl. Who likes pop idols. Who’s really excited to meet him as soon as he’s better. He says he texted her a picture of Choromatsu and she thinks he’s really cute. It’s perhaps a good thing that he can’t say much right now, because he’s sure he’d scream loud enough to lose his voice a second time.

Jyushimatsu even sits there on Choromatsu’s other side, and reads magazine articles to him whenever they’re not watching TV. Of course, he doesn’t read the dirty articles… well, he doesn’t read those out loud after the first time he tried and everybody ended up crying with laughter. They all joked that even when he was sick that would be Choromatsu’s main priority, and for once, he laughed along with them despite the fact that it made him cough.

The one who surprises him the most is Osomatsu. Maybe that shouldn’t actually be a surprise, though. He fills the role of diligent oldest brother with a lot more ease than one might expect; he breaks out the thermometer every few hours to make sure Choromatsu’s fever isn’t getting higher, he keeps track of which medicines Choromatsu is supposed to take and when, he helps Mom cook things that will help Choromatsu feel better, and if he’s not doing any of that other stuff, he’s positioned with Choromatsu sitting on his lap, with Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu on either side, running his fingers through his little brother’s hair. It almost feels like the way things were when they were all kids.

Choromatsu is easily tired out when he’s sick, and he’s 99.99999% sure that it’s Osomatsu who carries him to bed every night when he inevitably falls asleep.

Despite the fact that he gives them a lot of shit, and none of them are perfect people, he knows he’s got some pretty amazing brothers.

Today he’s feeling nearly back to his old self, and his throat is less sore than it’s been in over a week. He knows it’s partially thanks to rest and partially thanks to how well his family has been taking care of him. Despite that he’s starting to recover, the others are still treating him much the same as they have been. Tea whenever he wants it ― as well as Karamatsu shoving it in his direction, urging him to drink with that pathetic puppy dog face of his, even when he doesn’t quite want it ― and lots of head pats and the TV turned to whatever he’s in the mood for.

He’s not quite as tired as he’s been lately, so it would be all too effortless to just take advantage of all this. Instead, his thoughts have just kept turning to how grateful he is to have so many people he can count on.

There’s some small part of him that has to admit he can be just as bad as they all are sometimes. He can be selfish and rude and lazy. But when one of his brothers is sick or hurt, he knows he steps up to the plate to try and take care of them. To know that they’re all willing to do the same for him when he’s the one in need makes him happier than he thinks he’s been in a long time.

He’s still got the dumb little whiteboard Osomatsu gave him, because his voice isn’t back to normal just yet. For a moment, he scribbles on it, then he holds it up for Osomatsu who’s sitting behind him. “Hey, Oso,” he speaks up in a quiet, breathy, raspy voice.

“Uh…! Hey, dumbass, you’re not supposed to be talking yet,” Osomatsu laughs, then lifts his head to look at the board. “… Huh? Choromatsu… hey…”

He laughs in a way that makes it sound like he’s about to cry, then takes the board and waves it to get everyone else’s attention. “Hey, guys! Haha… look! Look at this shit!”

Four other pairs of eyes turn in their direction. Practically as soon as everyone has processed what Choromatsu has written, he’s buried in a pile of brothers. He gets arms put around him, and kisses on his forehead, and everyone nuzzling against his face. They’re all laughing in that same way Osomatsu did…

… Well, until they all start actually crying. Including Choromatsu himself.

The whiteboard falls to the ground, mostly forgotten, but the words written on it hanging over the sextuplets like a rainbow.

Thanks for everything. I love you guys. 💚

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

The 4 Times Luke Got Sick + The 1 Time He Got Julie Sick

Pairing: Julie x Alive!Luke (college AU)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: light swearing, non-fatal illness

Summary: Luke was always getting sick. It was probably the worst things about being roommates with him, Julie decided. That, and when they’d first moved into their dorm Freshman year of college he’d tried to hit on all her friends. It seemed like every year the poor guy went through at least one serious bout of illness that Julie would have to practically nurse him back to health from.

A/N: I got 2 anon requests for sick!Juke this week, one for a College Roommates AU where Luke constantly gets sick and Julie takes care of him and another where they’re friends and neighbors but have crushes on each other that don’t come to light until they both get sick together feat. Mothering Rose. I decided to combine them since they had a similar theme, I hope that’s alright! As per usual, let me know what you think and send me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglist! Also, I am taking requests right now so feel free to send those in!

Masterlist

___

1 - Freshman Year

“Juuuulie,” Luke called from his bedroom.

“Whaaaat?” Julie called back from her own room, making no attempt to get up from her bed.

“Can you come here so we can stop yelling?” He whined and she rolled her eyes but rolled out of her bed unceremoniously.

Given the coed nature of the dorms, they were each provided a small separate bedroom connected with a combined living room space that currently could use a good vacuuming, she noted as she walked through it before pausing at Luke’s door. It was only about three months into the semester and while Luke and Julie had become fast friends through their love of music, she hadn’t really been in his room before.

She raised her fist to give a hesitant knock, not really sure what the protocol was.

“You can come in,” he laughed but for the first time in their conversation, Julie noticed that his voice seemed a little off.

When she stepped into the room she immediately knew why. Luke lay in bed, slightly propped up by his pillow. She immediately noticed how red his face and nose, in particular, looked and the pile of used tissues next to the bed.

“Woah, dude, are you sick?” Julie exclaimed, immediately taking a step back in an attempted to put as much distance between herself and the sick boy as possible.

“Yeah,” he croaked sheepishly, “Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you.”

“Ya think?” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest but smirking to let him know she wasn’t that mad about it. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Um, yeah, actually. I was gonna ask if you could run down to the market and get me some chicken noodle soup?”

Julie nodded, happy to be able to help her sick friend.

“Sure! Is there any medication I can pick up from the pharmacy for you or anything?” She offered but he shook his head, pulling open the top drawer of his bedside table revealing that it was full of various medicines.

“I, uh, came prepared,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “My immune system is pretty shit.”

Julie nodded.

“I better get you that soup then, huh?” She said kindly, starting to feel awkward lingering in the doorway.

“My wallet is in my jacket pocket,” Luke offered, pointing to the coat hanging in his closet.

Julie nodded in silent thanks as she pocketed the piece of leather, closing the door on her way out. Despite the sunshine, it was a short but chilly walk to the campus market, which was fortunately only a couple of blocks away from their residence hall. She located the soup fairly quickly but stopped to look through the tea options, grabbing a box of peppermint and chamomile tea bags. The check-out process was fast and she was back in her dorm only a few minutes later.

Before even taking off her coat or slipping off her shoes, she put the soup in the microwave and started up her electric kettle. While she was waiting she then busied herself with hanging up her coat in her own closet and leaving her shoes in their designated spot by the door.

“What are you doing out there, Molina?” Luke groaned from his room when the kettle started whistling.

She quickly switched it off, bustling around the designated “kitchen” area of their dorm for a mug to start steeping the peppermint tea. No sooner than she placed the teabag into the mug had the microwaved beeped, signaling that the soup was ready. Bowl in one hand and mug in the other, Julie pushed the door open with her shoulder, slowly stepping into the room in an attempt not to spill either of the hot liquids in her hands.

She gingerly set the mug on a cleared space on Luke’s desk before handing him the chicken noodle soup.

“What’s that?” He asked, gesturing to the mug with his spoon before eating some of the soup.

“It’s peppermint tea,” she answered factually. “My mom always makes it for me when I’m sick, it supposed to help with congestion and should soothe your throat.”

“You’re the best, Molina,” Luke said graciously, slurping another mouthful of soup.

“Damn right I am!” Julie laughed, “Let me know if you need anything else, I’ll be in my room.”

___

2 - Sophomore Year

Julie wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t anticipated this. Maybe she’d hoped that all the elderberry and echinacea tea she’d made him drink last year had actually helped his immune system, but nope. November had rolled around and with it, cold season and cold season meant that Luke would undoubtedly get sick. He wasn’t lying, his immune system really was shit. This year was worse though. While last year it had been a series of bad colds, this year it was the flu.

She’d found out when he’d vomited in the middle of a rehearsal with the band they’d formed at the end of the previous year with two other guys they’d met in one of their music classes.

She’d been keeping an eye on him all day as he’d been shivering a lot and seemed especially pale but she had figured the boy knew his immune system better than anyone else and would say something if he was feeling sick. Obviously not.

“Oh my gosh, Luke! Are you okay?” She gasped, rushing over to rub his back soothingly as he bent over the trash can in the spare music room they’d occupied for rehearsal.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, waving her off as he stood back up with the intention of picking his guitar back up.

However, Julie stopped him, placing her hand against his forehead with a frown.

“You have a fever.” She said disapprovingly and he sighed.

“It’s fine Molina, we gotta practice.”

“Nuh-uh.” She insisted sternly, sticking out an arm to hold him in place. “You are not gonna get the rest of us sick. I’m driving you to the campus health center and then we’re going home.”

Luke huffed and rolled his eyes but relented, moving to slide his electric into its case and grab his jacket.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“We’ll see you guys later,” Julie sent Alex and Reggie an exasperated smile before following the boy out.  

The campus health center confirmed Julie’s suspicions, it was the flu. They picked up his prescription medicine at the campus pharmacy next door before heading back to their shared dorm.

“Will you make me soup?” Luke pleaded as Julie made sure he was settled comfortably in his bed, his lip stuck out in an irrefutable pout. “And Mama Molina’s special tea?”

Julie smiled at the nickname which Luke had coined last year as Julie often referenced her mother when taking care of the seemingly constantly sick boy. The name had stuck and then been made official when the guys had visited her over the summer break and Luke had accidentally called her mother it. Rose Molina fell in love with it instantly and now Luke, Alex, and Reggie all exclusively referred to her as such.

“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes lightly. There was nothing special about Mama Molina’s tea, it was just a cup of peppermint tea with a little bit of honey but it had seemed to work wonders for Luke last year and he much preferred it to the cocktail of cough syrup and sinus pills he’d normally take.

As she delivered the steaming soup and tea, Julie prayed that her superior immune system and flu shot would keep her safe from contracting her roommate’s illness while she took care of him. Still, she tried her best to keep her distance while keeping an eye on him.

She started him on a new Netflix series in an attempt to keep him from going stir crazy in the dorm while she was in class. She picked up all his missing work and made sure he had plenty of soup and tea (peppermint in the daytime to clear up congestion and soothe his cough, and chamomile in the evening to help him sleep).

“You’re too good for me, Molina.” He said sleepily as she tucked him into bed one night.

“I know,” she responded with a smirk, patting his cheek lightly before leaving, turning off the light as she went.

___

3 - Junior Year

Luke’s annual illness came later the next year. All November and December Julie was on high alert, ready at a moment’s notice to grab a can of chicken noodle soup from their cupboards and start up the kettle, but the moment never came. They’d finally moved out of the dorms this year, now living in an off-campus apartment with Alex and Reggie, which meant they had more room for Julie to store her supply of soup and tea and she had two backup caregivers.

When the new year rolled around and Luke still hadn’t shown any signs of getting sick, Julie had remarked,

“Maybe you’ve finally built up your immune system enough.”

The next week Luke was calling for her from his room across the hall.

It was the flu again but this time it was easier.

Julie, Alex, and Reggie took turns taking care of their sick roommate while the others were in classes, though everyone agreed that Julie had to be in charge of the tea. Despite Julie’s insistence that it was easy to make, Alex and Reggie refused after their first attempts had been scorned by Luke who insisted they did it wrong.

“You are such a drama queen,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at the boy as she delivered the tea.

“You’re the best, Molina.” He’d said as he took a sip, ignoring her comment on his dramatics.

“Shut up and drink your tea.” Julie laughed, brushing off the compliment as she turned on Netflix, taking a seat on the other side of the living room.

___

4 - Senior Year

After what all their friends had insisted was years of tension and pining, Luke and Julie got together just in time for Luke to catch pneumonia. It was the worst virus Luke had caught yet and Julie was silently glad that their relationship was new enough that they hadn’t kissed yet. Judging by Luke’s state, she hoped she never got pneumonia.

He had a fever for the first few days and Julie, Alex, and Reggie did their best to keep their distance, only coming into his room to deliver soup, tea, water, and medicine. Once the fever had disappeared, Luke was allowed to rejoin the rest, though only from a distance. The four roommates spending the afternoons in the living room together to keep the boy company as he laid on the couch. Still, even with the fever gone Luke spent the next week and a half nearly hacking up his lungs every time he coughed and with stabbing chest pains.

“You’re not eating your soup,” Julie noticed one afternoon as she did her homework on the opposite side of the living room, Alex and Reggie both in class.

“I’m not hungry,” Luke whined, pushing the bowl farther away on the coffee table.

Julie frowned, getting up from her armchair to perch across from him on the coffee table, picking up the bowl.

“Babe, you’ve gotta eat,” Julie said pointedly and Luke frowned at the term of endearment, knowing she was using it to convince him to do what she said. “The doctor said you’d have a loss of appetite, but you need to eat.”

“C’mon, open up,” she instructed, holding out a spoonful of soup.

Luke huffed, glaring at his girlfriend but opening his mouth anyway, allowing her to spoon-feed him.

“Wow, I did not think Luke could get any needier,” Reggie remarked as he stepped into the apartment, Alex coming in behind him.

“Don’t get used to that,” he added, “Cause I will not feed you while Julie’s in class.”

Julie laughed, ruffling her boyfriend’s hair affectionately before feeding him another spoonful.

“I don’t deserve you, Molina,” he said affectionately between bites.

“Don’t you forget it, Patterson,” she smiled.

___

+ 1 Year Later

After graduation in May, Julie and the Phantoms released their first full album and began their first tour in the fall thanks to the large following they’d accrued through their posts on YouTube since sophomore year and the success of their album. They’d had been touring for a couple of months before they finally took a break, just in time for Christmas.

Alex, Reggie, and Julie had all made plans to spend the break with their families, Reggie staying with his older sister and their family and Alex and Julie with their respective parents. However, Luke’s parents had found themselves on a business trip out of the country which is how the boy ended up spending his first Christmas at the Molina’s. Ray and Rose had been more than happy to have the boy stay with them when Julie explained the situation, though Ray had insisted on a strict policy of the two never being alone in the same room before Rose reminded him that Julie and Luke had been living together for five years and were grown adults.

The Molinas and Luke had a lovely Christmas together but when Julie woke up two days later she wished they had instituted her dad’s No Alone Time policy. She groggily made her way to the kitchen, rifling through the pantry for the peppermint tea to soothe her sore throat and hopefully clear up her sinuses. Before she could get very far though, her mom walked into the kitchen, immediately catching on to what she was doing. Julie rarely reached for tea on her own, hot chocolate being her hot beverage of preference, so Rose knew something must be up when she found her daughter rifling through the tea shelf.

“Go lay on the couch, Niña,” she insisted, ushering her daughter out of the kitchen, “I’ll take care of this.”

Julie did as she said, finding her favorite blanket from the basket in the corner and cuddling up on the couch. Her mom came in a few minutes later with her favorite mug in hand, setting it down on the coffee table in front of Julie.

“Don’t burn yourself, it’s hot,” Rose warned, placing a soft kiss on the top of her daughter’s head and patting her shoulder gently before returning to the kitchen to start on breakfast for the family.

It was only a couple of minutes later that Luke stumbled down the stairs calling her name.

“Juuuulie?” he pouted as he made his way into the living room. “Will you make me some tea?”

Her eyes went wide with the realization of how she’d gotten sick as she clutched her own mug of tea in her hands.

“So this is your fault,” she gasped, voice thick due to the congestion.

“What?” Luke asked, tilting his head in confusion, the fogginess in his brain from having just woken up and being sick preventing him from connecting the dots quickly.

“You got me sick.” She accused, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend who’s eyes widened in response.

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” He asked, concern immediately filling his voice. “I’m sorry Jules.”

“I haven’t gotten sick in over four years and all it takes is one germy kiss from you,” she whined and Luke barked out a laugh before wincing at the pain it caused his throat.

“Well, the good news is we can recover together,” he said, plopping down on the couch and snuggling into her side.

“Luke, honey, do you need a blanket?” Rose asked as she returned to the living room, another cup of tea in hand, the woman obviously having overheard them from the kitchen. Luke nodded sheepishly and Rose smiled, setting the tea down in front of him and crossing the room to grab a blanket.

“Thank you, Mama Molina,” he said graciously, wrapping himself in the fleece material and picking up his tea.

“Anything to get the two of you better before you have to go back on tour,” she said, patting both their shoulders lovingly before going back to her cooking.

Julie groaned at the reminder. They were supposed to start back on the road in a week, but with Luke’s track record of illnesses, there was no knowing how long either of them would be sick this time.

Fortunately, thanks to a diet of Rose’s homemade chicken noodle soup and tea remedy as well as medication, Julie and Luke were feeling better in a couple of days.

“I’d always known, but now I really see where you got your nursing skills from,” Luke remarked on the first morning he’d woken up able to breathe through his nose.

Julie grinned.

“You sure are lucky to have the Molina women in your life,” she teased.

“Damn right.” He nodded sincerely.

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx @morganayennefertyrell

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag AU

A month had gone by and the doctors finally felt confident enough to bring Kagome out of the medically induced coma. The bleeding in her brain had completely stopped, and the damaged areas were beginning to heal nicely. But they warned the family, that despite this development, it didn’t mean she’d wake up immediately. So, despite this movement, she was kept on all the other machines that supported her breathing functions and nutritional needs. Time continued to drone on day after day, with no other signs of life except for the beeps and whooshing sounds of those machines. It took another two weeks before Kagome’s body regained full control over her bodily functions. In order to accomplish this task, the doctors weaned her off the breathing tubes, slowly decreasing the level of oxygen being forced in, and causing the body to put in the work. It was a relief to see her doing it on her own. Each small step forward towards normalcy was a vital win.

Every day Inuyasha maintained his vigil at Kagomes side, holding her hand, sensitive to any slight ticks or changes and waiting for the moment she’d show unquestionable signs that she’d wake up soon. At first, he would simply sit there silently in the quiet room, but the recovery counselors that stopped by convinced him to talk to her, read to her, let Kagome hear his voice. Some believed that coma patients can hear what was going on around them, so it was worth a shot. But what was he supposed to say? Inuyasha was confused and nervous. It felt weird to talk to an unconscious person. He started out simple, awkwardly telling Kagome about that day at work, maybe some interesting news happening in their town. Then one day, her mom found some old storybooks Kagome’s grandfather would read to her when she was little, and one story in particular caught his attention. It was a fable, an ancient tale about a sorceress and a demon who fought over the power of a sacred stone. The Shikon no Tama was an old story that his own mother had once relayed to him.

So, for three weeks since being weaned off of the machines, Inuyasha read to Kagome a chapter of the book. Night after night like a bedtime story, recounting the woven tale of greed and power, and the ultimate triumph over good and evil. Of course, he didn’t believe any of it actually happened, but it was an interesting tale. He especially liked the part of the sorceress finding love and happiness in the end because in a way he could relate to it. Not all the magical stuff, which even as a demon he still felt was too far fetched, but the journey the two undertook to realize how they felt about each other. The sorceress was the obvious main character, but the hapless warrior who fought beside her was an important part of her journey. They learned from, supporting each other’s growth and self-discovery and in the end, together they defeated the demon.

Mama Higurashi placed her hand on Inuyasha’s shoulder as she came for a visit. “Kagome loved that one too,”

“It... kind of feels like us,” he looks to the woman on the bed,” but... in a modern twist. Kikyo was once the Shikon no Tama keeping them apart, and amnesia their demon to destroy, but it’s what it took for him to fully realize how much he truly loved the protagonist in his real life story. Now, Inuyasha only hoped for their own happy ending.

“Just remember one thing from the story,” mama higurashi retorted. “Nothing truly good is born from easy. It was the hard fought journey that brought the sorceress and the warrior together. If you keep that in mind as you fight this battle, I have no doubt you’ll succeed in the end.”

Mrs. Higurashi’s words really cut deep into Inuyasha and solidified how he felt. “Thanks Mama.”

The next evening that Inuyasha visited was already growing late and soon he would normally leave to get some sleep for work. He’d fallen asleep, resting his head against the bed, but his hand stayed clutched to Kagomes. It was brief and light, at first easily dismissed the general tick of a sleeping person. But by the third, the grip strengthened and woke up the sleeping Hanyo. Inuyasha sat up immediately focused on the face in the bed, searching for any other signs that Kagome was truly waking up. A few minutes passed by, but the woman’s eyes stayed closed and features serene as if in a dream like state. Perhaps that’s just all it was, a dream to shatter a hopeful hanyo. Inuyasha sighed and looked at the time. 11pm. He really should get back home and get some sleep.

But then, another, much stronger squeeze of his hand came, and the grip stayed firmly closed. “Kagome?” He questioned with hope brimming in his shaky tone. “Kagome?” Still, the woman slept peacefully in front of him. Inuyasha’s ears lowered with dismay, but he reminded himself this was the strongest reaction they’d received so far. It was a strong hope to latch onto. He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow love,” and retreated for the night praying their answers will come the next day.

Two days later, Inuyasha was halfway through his workday when he received a call from Mrs. Higurashi that Kagome had woken up. This is it! Kagomes awake! He raced to the hospital excited to see his girlfriend, only to be stopped at the door.

“Before you go in there, Inuyasha,” Mrs Higurashi spoke quietly, “I want to warn you the doctors were right— she… she doesn’t remember anything after finishing college.”

Inuyashas heart sunk in his chest like ship going down against a reef. Despite knowing this could very well be the outcome, to face it in reality was much harder than one could ever imagine. His face grew ashen, and ears fell with a whine.

She hugged him tight. “Don’t lose hope yet, remember this may very well be temporary, so we just need to get through this together.”

“I know,” his ears receded further into his hair line. “I’ll try, for her, I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will.” Mrs. Higurashi caressed his face. “Come, let me introduce you to her.”

When Inuyasha walked in, Kagome was still laying down. She seemed a little different which should be expected, probably confused, yet otherwise with a smile. Mrs. Higurashi guided Inuyasha to her daughter’s bedside, coaxing him to take his usual seat beside her.

“Kagome, I know you don’t remember any of this yet, but this,” Mrs. Higurashi gestured at the man, “is your boyfriend Inuyasha Taisho. You met after college.”

“Oh,” Kagome stared at the man inquisitively as if trying to search her incomplete memories. “I’m sorry I don’t remember any of it.”

“Do you remember what the doctor told you?” Her mother prompted.

“That I should be able to get my memories back once I healed completely?”

Mrs. Higurashi nodded. “This may all be very confusing, but we’re gonna do our best to help you through this.”

“I trust you momma.” Kagome looked back to the man sitting beside her and saw the tears trickling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry Inuyasha.” She reached out and took his hand. “I bet this is pretty hard on you too.”

He shook his head. “This is all my fault. If we hadn’t fought, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

Kagome paused, “what did we fight about?”

Such a simple question triggered a new cascade of tears, but Inuyasha slowly and diligently recounted that horrible night. He held back no details, right down to the luncheon with his ex that proved Kagome had been right all along. It felt so good to come clean, but now a panic rose up. “The last thing you’d said to me was you hated me, and I agree, I deserved that hatred for what I put you through. If I could go back in time, there’s so many things I’d do differently.”

Kagome processed his words for a few minutes quietly, then squeezed his hand. “You said I hate you, but why do I feel like that’s not true. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t remember, but I just feel like, I really don’t.”

“It’s probably because you can’t remember,” he mumbled. “And that’s okay. I deserve it.”

“Or, I just said it because I was angry at the time. Inuyasha, when I look at you now, and see the pain in your eyes, I get the sense that we both may have said things we didn’t really mean.”

Inuyasha perked up. Her personality was still very much intact, and wow, did he love hearing the fire in her tone! “I swear I’m gonna make it all up to you! I’m so, so, sorry for everything Kagome!”

“I’m still here aren’t I,” she smiled. “You just might have to make me fall in love all over again.”

“You’re worth the challenge.”

That brought a blush to Kagome’s cheeks. Waking up with no memory of a chunk of time certainly sucks, but she had to admit, it could have been worse. She still had all of her faculties, her personality, her life, and apparently a really cute guy willing to do anything to keep her around.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” 

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better. 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield​ ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow. 

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax. 

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone. 

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning. 

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.” 

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts. 

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same. 

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that. 

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything. 

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right? 

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start. 

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting. 

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name. 

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door. 

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon. 

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful. 

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth. 

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life. 

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room. 

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him. 

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about. 

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago. 

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind. 

“I get it,” Jody finally says. 

Dean glances sharply at her. 

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told... 

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee. 

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long. 

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up. 

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders). 

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood. 

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed. 

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against. 

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood. 

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities. 

Probably. 

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this. 

 The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas. 

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off. 

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly. 

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.” 

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?” 

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger. 

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?” 

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar. 

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—” 

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods. 

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water. 

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air. 

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair. 

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected. 

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth. 

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—” 

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on. 

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead. 

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain  what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?” 

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own. 

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him. 

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough. 

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair. 

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really. 

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago. 

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.  

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again. 

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him. 

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this. 

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat. 

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is. 

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step. 

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas. 

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both. 

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists. 

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize. 

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars. 

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza. 

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room. 

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up. 

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much. 

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want. 

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face. 

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

[fezblr]

glow stars: p.p

chap 1: flash, shut up

warnings: angst at the beginning, major character deaths, crying, fluffy lego building, peter trying to be smooth, swearing, thanos

it had been 8 months since peter had returned from the blip, 8 months since y/n almost died trying to rip thanos head off and 8 months since the death of tony stark, y/n father and peters surrogate father (as y/n so kindly nicknamed him) to say that his death hit hard was a understatement. peter didn’t move for a week, may had to physically drag him out of bed for tony’s funeral, his eyes misty and empty of any emotion at all. as for y/n, she tried. she was always trying. after watching peter fade to dust in her arms on titan, she felt as though she was strong. even after nat sacrificed herself so the avengers could redeem the soul stone, she kept her head up. but after watching her father, the only person she cared about more then herself, crumpled on the ground, while peter shook like a leaf next to him, she lost it. all the pent up emotions from the last 5 years crashed down on her and sent her into a sobbing mess next to her fathers corpse, wishing it had been her instead. 

but now, y/n sat building what could only be described as the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

when y/n and mj went to target and she saw the mini lego replica of her fathers old building, she immediately put it in her cart (along with the 33 scented candles mj had impulsively put in her cart after seeing sale stickers on them all. the lego set was a replica of stark tower, which included a mini iron man and ultra violet, which was y/n super identity. steve thought of it as a fun nickname for the girl who could manipulate electricity with her fingertips, due to the purple electricity currents she shot out of her fingers. after a severe accident in tony’s lab, y/n’s powers had been developed at the ripe age of 5. she smiled at the name steve. steve. thinking of steve, she turned her head towards the avengers lego set sitting on her shelves. based on the amount of avengers lego on her shelves, she definitely had a problem. 

her eyes focused back of the pieces, making sure to carefully construct each one. by the time she finished, she had a mini stark tower sitting in front of her, and a mini iron man and ultra violet staring up at her. she felt so big compared to them. it was a feeling she could get used to. a knock on her window interrupted her thoughts, a smile making its way to her face. she ran up to her closed curtains, pulling them back to see her best friend peter parker. she smiled and open her window. as the spider suit clad boy fell in face first. she giggled, making sure to stay quiet so her mom wouldn’t come knocking to see what was happening. “way to make an entrance pete,” he rolled his eyes. “help me up?” she smirked and put out her hand, lifting him onto his feet. “any injuries tonight? at this rate i could have finished medical school with my experience,” peter responded with a laugh, his hands indistinctly resting on her shoulders. he peeked behind her, his eyes lighting up. “whats this?” he gestured to the lego spread across the floor, and at the finished lego piece. “oh, i found a stark tower lego set and i KNEW i had to buy it !!” y/n giggled excitedly. “have a look, its literally so realistic-” 

peter and y/n examined the structure, y/n babbling about how it had a elevator in it, earning a “woah” from peter. a knock on the door interrupted tehir conversation, pep’s voice heard from the other side. “hey y/n, its time to go to bed, you have school tomorrow. “ “ok mom!” she responded. “say hi to peter for me.” with that pep walked away leaving a very blushy peter and y/n. “we definitely need to be more careful.”

happy pulled up into midtowns parking lot, as y/n gathered her things. “thank you for the ride happy, it means a lot,” “no problem y/n, anything for you.” happy smiled at the girl through the mirror as she hopped out and waved. y/n jogged up to where peter was waiting for her to walk her in. “good morning m’lady.” “never say that again,” y/n laughed, as they walked towards her locker, which, conveniently, was right next to peters. y/n opened up her locker but quickly was distracted when flash ran up with his phone in his hand. “hey y/n, can you help me with something?” she sighed. “what do you want flash?” “i want to go viral on this website and i thought you could help.” “depends, is the website onlyfans?” a voice said from behind y/n, and when she turned she was met with mj’s friendly face. “ew no mj. i need help getting tiktok famous.” “how am i supposed to help?” “i dunno your dad was tony stark! just help me out by saying that we’re best buddies,” the word was stung more then y/n thought it would. “fine, i’ll help you.” “GREAT! heres your speech,” “flash i am not saying any of this.” “why?” “it says i have to call you my bff for life,” “i know, just to really sell it.” “yknow what, mj actually has free period right now why dont you make the video with her?” mj glared at y/n while she smirked. “have fun guys!” y/n skipped away towards peter who was now joined by ned, as the 3 made their way to their first period. 

“then step 6, i tell her how i feel.” “you’re forgetting step 7.” “yeah?” “don’t say any of that,” peter looked up at ned confused. “why?” “y/n wouldn’t want you to do something big. something small and at the perfect moment would be enough for her.” peter sat confused, thinking intently. “why ae you doing this man?” ne asked. peter sighed. “i told mr stark i’d take care of her, and i want her to remember this moment forever.” “i’m pretty sure she will, mr stark would be really proud pete,” peter let out a breath, “i honestly dont know ned- she’s coming this way act normal ned!” y/n strutted over, a smile on her face. “whats up dorks, excited for the trip?” “y-yeah, really excited. right ned?” ned nodded, also nodding very aggressively. “peters gonna collect tiny spoons.” y/n’s face morphed into confusion. “spoons? like a grandma?” “yeah, like a grandma.” peter replied, as ned shot him a wink. “ok well, good luck with your spoons.” y/n walked away, leaving peter to let out an anxious breath. “what the hell was that ned?!” “i dunno i got overwhelmed,” ned shrugged. peter let out a anxious breath. it was gonna be a very long trip. 

[binniedeactivated]

txt reactions. || 👾👾

I saw a national children’s day post earlier and got inspired so I’d like to bless ya’ll with some fluff!

(yes I included the maknaes,, even though they are still young I think they would make amazing fathers in the future🥺)

TXT finding out you’re pregnant ....

soobin; it was the same time around soobin’s birthday. you’d been getting so nauseous and sick the past couple of weeks and you had an idea of what was going on, you just weren’t sure. gathering up your courage you decide to buy a couple of tests from the drug store, trying to settle the issue once and for all. you’re heart sunk to the floor once the two small lines appeared on the mini screen. you checked the box a thousand times to make sure the two lines meant you were pregnant. you read it over again trying to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. but you weren’t. you were pregnant. you were kind of freaked out about it so you didn’t know how to tell soobin, in words especially. once he went off to work on songs and dances with the boys, you went out to the store and bought a small t shirt. a baby one that snapped cutely at the bottom. you bought a gift bag and some tissue paper and piled it to the top so soobin had no idea what he was in for. once soobin came home your palms immediately became sweaty. you tried your hardest not to show your nerves. “hey baby. you okay? how was your day today?”. he’d ask. “it was good. I still feel kind of sick though. I bought you something while i went out”. you’d say, shoving the bag in his chest. he’d grasp it smirking, “what’s this?”.  “it’s a shirt that kind of reminded me of you. I thought you’d like it”. you explain with your heart pounding. soobin throws layers and layers of tissue paper on the floor until he got to the very bottom of the bag. he clutches the t shirt and unfolds it in the air to get a better look at it. his eyes widened once he saw that it was a baby’s shirt that read, “I’ve got the best daddy ever”. 

“are you really-?”. he trailed off with his mouth agape. 

“yes soobin”.

soobin drops everything and hugs you, kissing you on your cheeks. “I love you and we got this alright? don’t be scared”. he was trying to be as affectionate as possible but he was jittering on the inside. a little soobin? oh he couldn’t wait.

yeonjun; yeonjun tried to be as patient as he could with you. he thought maybe you were on your period so that’s why you’ve been grumpy these past couple of weeks. the funny thing was, your period had already passed. you couldn’t explain the reasons for your emotions. they were just there and you had no control over them. you cried over every wrong thing yeonjun did. he bought you the wrong flavor ice cream, the wrong sized shoe, the wrong sized clothes. usually you’d shrug these types of things off so you couldn’t believe yourself when you actually began tearing up. you thought maybe you were going through an early menopause or something, you were quite terrified of what was happening to you. you went to the doctor’s office as soon as yeonjun was out of sight. you couldn’t believe your ears when the doctor told you that you were two months pregnant. you told him he had to be lying to you. but it was kind of hard to lie once he rubbed the aquasonic gel on your tummy and placed the probe against it. you saw a tiny being growing inside you on the screen. you also heard some weird sounds to which the doctor was telling you it was your baby’s heart beat. you could cry; as emotional as you were. 

your nerves were already wrecked and to make matters worse you didn’t know how you were going to tell yeonjun. he enters the house that night and you glare over at him. he immediately sighs, knowing you were going to cry over something stupid once again. “you know what babe? maybe we just need some time alone from each other”. he finalizes. “i don’t need time alone. why don’t you want to be with me? you’re supposed to be there for me through everything not just leave”. 

“I’m not leaving. but your attitude is really getting the best of you and I don’t want to lash out on you”. 

“then don’t”. 

“see? it’s smart remarks like that that pisses me off and you know that”. yeonjun snaps. you didn’t know why his attitude grew another type of anger inside you. you took the envelope from your lap and threw it at his head. 

“and now you’re throwing things?”. yeonjun complains while picking the envelope up off the floor. he was going to toss it to the side until he realized it was from the medical office and it had your name on it. “wait what is this?”.

he questions before opening it and sliding the folded ultrasound pictures out of the slot. once they were out for him to see all of them unfolded and he saw it with a full view. his eyes were as wide as moons and he pushes his lips together humming frantically. “baby! you serious?!”. it was kind of cute how his attitude had went away. you folded your arms. 

“two months”. yeonjun smiles and punches the air. “yes!! yes! you know what? I should tell the guys. nah first i’m going to tell my mom. or my grandma. as a matter of fact i’ll wait until we know the gender I hope it’s a boy. he’s going to be a sexy beast like his daddy. if it’s a girl she’ll be so spoiled i swear--”. 

yeonjun babbles, going on and on about his plans. you wanted to continue being angry. but your new soon to be father was just too cute for your eyes.

beomgyu; you knew already. from the constant peeing to the puking you knew what was up. beomgyu didn’t though so it was kind of hard to keep letting him cater to you day after day. he’d leave work early just to come home to you and make sure you were well fed and taken care of. he’d even stop by the store and pick up some medicine to help you feel better. whatever was wrong with you he hoped to god it wasn’t anything serious. more than anything else he loved spending time and having fun with you and it was kind of hard when you were sick like this. well at least, he thought you were sick. you were thankful for everything he was doing so there was no way you were going to keep this secret from him any longer. however you didn’t want to tell him with your own words. you decided to call yeonjun. “hello?”. he answers, “hey yeonjun i have to tell you something”.   “listen if beomgyu once again turned the washing machine on forgetting he had to put clothes in it, that was his own stupidity and i’m not in charge of controlling him”. 

you laugh, “what? no. that sounds like something he’d do. and it kind of worries me considering what I’m about to tell you”. 

“what is it?”. 

“I’m pregnant. alright? what I’m going to call for a delivery to the studio to surprise him. I want you to record everything. don’t tell him”. 

“holy shit he’s going to be a parent? god bless you”. you laugh again, “yeonjun record it!”. “I will”. he promises. 

beomgyu had been practicing really hard today. trying to get the moves correct before the soon to come show. all the members were against the wall on their phones or carrying on. they had the moves down already so there was no need for constant rehearsal for them. but for beomgyu this was the peak of his stress. he watches himself attentively in the mirror until a delivery guy walks in out of the blue. 

“delivery for Choi Beomgyu”, he informs, with a big box of diapers in his hand. beomgyu turns around confused. “diapers?”. the delivery guy nods and the members are on the wall staring with just as much confusion. all except for yeonjun who was recording like you’d ask. the guy hands beomgyu the box and he instantly shoots a look to the rest of the members. “quit trying to be funny. this was a weak joke”. 

“it wasn’t from us”. yeonjun smiles with his phone camera pointed at a frustrated gyu. “oh yeah? then whose it from?”. “your girlfriend”. beomgyu looks back at the box in his hands and think for a moment. “why would she send me a box of---”. and it was clear that his lightbulb had went off. he dropped the box and started jumping around like a lunatic. “babe! baby! is she on the phone with you yeonjun?! is that her?!!”. he screams while the rest of the members clap and laugh. “she told me to record your reaction”. 

“I’m going to be a fucking dad!! holy shit!!”. he screams to the top of his lungs.

taehyun; oh boy. it was a battle between you and taehyun. it was you trying to figure out how you were going to tell him that you were, versus him trying to figure out how he was going to tell you that he already knew. either way it goes, you both knew there was soon to be a little taehyun on board. you’d get all the symptoms, fatigue/exhaustion, cramping, peeing and vomiting. taehyun would do his research on how to comfort you better or how he typed it in his search bar, “how to comfort a pregnant woman”. for some reason taehyun was very knowledgeable on this type of thing. to taehyun it was easy. you were acting out of character way too often and it was often companioned by a stream of odd emotions that he couldn’t explain. something was definitely off about you and it wasn’t hard for him to know exactly what it was. he wouldn’t get angry at anything, he’d rather hold your hands and calmly tell you to relax and that things were going to be okay. he’d ask you if there was anything you wanted from him and if you wanted him to cook your favorite foods before he was off to work. you weren’t far along but you were feeling fat already. you felt yourself get kind of heavier and as a result you ached more than normal. taehyun would run you warm baths and compliment you often. you only let a couple more weeks pass by before you gained the courage. you woke up one saturday morning determined that he was going to know. but there was way too much noise in your house and before you did anything you had to know what it was. you painfully walked to where the noise was coming from and there was taehyun in a black sweat suit with his hat turned backwards. he was sweating and you were trying to figure out what he was doing. 

“taehyun? why are you making so much noise?”. 

“I’m moving things”. 

“for what?”. 

taehyun pushes the dresser in the hallway to the side. he pushes open the door that was behind it. once you saw the view you could just cry. he was turning one of the empty rooms inside your house into a nursery. He already started painting it grey and yellow and adding elephant teddies on the furniture. you held your heart in awe.

“taehy--”. 

“yes i know already”, he laughs. “you’re going to be such a good mommy”.

kai; you have been missing kai like crazy. and even more with your hormones raging now that you know you’re 3 months along.  you couldn’t believe that you guys were going to be parents. it was insane. kai, the chaotic and you, his sidekick? you didn’t know how this baby would turn out. maybe just as crazy as kai. maybe just as crazy as you. maybe a little bit of both. either way you didn’t mind. kai had been touring these past three months and it was especially hard for you receiving the news on your own. he’d face time you quite often and you had to try your best to be normal and to not let your emotions get the best of you. it would be another couple of weeks until he came back but you couldn’t wait any longer. the secret was eating you alive and you figured he had to know one of these days. you and taehyun had been working together to figure out a plan for the surprise. yes, you picked taehyun because you figured out of all the members he’d probably be more organized with this. 

and you were definitely right. it was late and the boys were performing in Kai’s hometown. Honolulu, Hawaii and what a better feeling was it to get this news while he already felt at home? After performing more than half of their newest album, The Dream Chapter: Eternity the boys were more than exhausted. But they couldn’t forget their end of show ritual of talking with MOAS and having a good time with them before they were back on the road. each of the boys gave a separate small speech about their love for moas and how they appreciated them. Taehyun however, assured MOAS that he loved them but he had an even better speech in mind, and that his was especially for kai. The lights in the stadium dimmed at taehyun’s command like he planned, and the giant screen behind them glowed a soft yellow color. There was baby footprints, and a poem that read, 

“Mommy told me your name was kai, so I wanted to tell daddy that I said Hi!”.

within an instant the members were screaming and jumping around along with moas. Kai was shocked. but he was so happy he’d be raising a child with you. he raised the microphone to say something but he couldn’t. his lip trembled and he immediately started crying out of pure joy. 

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

[withcolebrock]

It Just Scared Me

Summary: Y/N gets into a car accident 

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: description of car accidents (could be a possible trigger warning!), swearing, among other angsty things

Word count: 2,441

Author’s Note: this was supposed to be more fluffy than angst but I think it fit better with more angst haha. Also this took me so long to write and honestly I don’t really know why hah. I think this is one of my favorite pieces not gonna lie. My very small amount of medical knowledge that is in this hehe, is from my hours upon hours of watching Grey’s Anatomy so uh yeah there’s that. Also I have never been in a car accident (very grateful for that) so if the description isn’t 100% possibly correct I apologize I hope you guys like it! This is my gif!

For the past few days Sam, Katrina, and Y/N have been planning a surprise party for Colby. Sam had wanted everything to be perfect since he wanted Colby to love it. “Sam, that’s such a cute idea,” she sighed as she pulled up to a red light. She picked up her phone, checking her notifications quickly. Putting her phone into the cup holder, she turns her attention towards the red light.

He laughed over the phone, “Yeah, I think he’ll like it, I’ll let everyone know tonight. What are you thinking about doing to keep him distracted?” he asked while Y/N watched the light turn green. She glanced towards the streets to the side of her while pulling forward.

“Um,” her eyes flickered to her rear-view mirror before looking ahead of her again, “I think I’ll just go shopping, I honestly don’t really know yet,” she took a hold of her coffee pulling it to her lips taking a sip. She put the cup down glancing towards her cup holder making sure she placed it down correctly. Remembering the time she spilled coffee all over the front of her car; definitely something she doesn’t want to happen again.

“Whatever keeps him busy,” Sam laughs, “Just make sure he’s back at your guys’ apartment by six or so,” She flipped her turn signal up as she merged into the right lane, she slowed down as she began her turn.

“Oh for sure,” she pressed the gas as she continued down the street heading towards her work building, “Knowing Colby, we won’t leave the apartment until like eleven at the earliest; so if we get food or whatever and go shopping we should be back around then,” she explained as she continued driving. Her eyes glance towards the green light as she enters the intersection.

Subconsciously, her head whips to meet the sight of a large black SUV heading full speed towards her direction. “Oh fuck, oh my god, fuck!” her eyes widened as a sudden gasp left her lips. Her body freezes as she continues pulling forward; hoping she will nearly miss the car. Several different horns sound from different directions and Sam yelling over the phone is all she can hear. She squints her eyes while her hands tighten around the wheel. Her arms began to shake as she continued to grip harder.

Suddenly her body jolts and slams against the window as the car rams into the tailend of her car. She shrieks in pain as her head bangs against the window. Her body flings backwards into her seat as the airbags deplow hard against her body. She gasped for air, several times as she lightly hit her hand against the airbag. She held her hand in front of her as she watched it shake uncontrollably; struggling to breathe she leaned her head against the seat. She rocks her head to the side, shutting her eyes while she fights to catch her breath. Continuously, she clenched and unclenched her hands trying to calm herself down.

Coughing, she opens her eyes quickly looking ahead of her, seeing cars drive around her. She furrowed her eyebrows while she leaned her head against the seat again; shutting her eyes again. Loud squeal of tires wailed behind her, slowly getting quieter as they pulled away in the other direction. Her eyes flicker open, staring into the rear-view mirror, seeing no car behind her. She let out a harsh breath while a sob left her lips, “Y/N? Are you okay? What happened? Y/N?”

“Sa-Sam,” she choked out as she reached her hand up, touching her forehead, closing her eyes. “I’m-I’m fine, just I uh-I think I-” she stopped while she leaned her head against the seat, “I’ll be okay, I’m gonna call, uh for help,” she turned her head to face her window, her eyes land on a brunette woman frantically knocking against the window. She points down several times before Y/N understands and rolls down the window.

“Hun? Are you okay? What’s your name? I’m on the phone with 9-1-1,” she asked immediately after the window began to roll down.

“Y/N,” she breathed, the woman smiled while telling the 9-1-1 operator her name, “I hit my head,” she continued as she closed her eyes suddenly again.

“Okay, Hun, they are on your way. Just stay awake. Why don’t you talk with me a bit?”

~~~

Sam frantically pulls his apartment door open and jogs quickly over to Colby’s apartment. “Please be home, please be home,” he mumbles as he continuously knocks against the door.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Colby groaned while pulling the door open, seeing Sam standing there. Sam pushed passed him, walking into his apartment. Colby watched him wide eyed, letting the door close behind him.

“Okay, you can’t freak out until I say you can freak out,” Sam started, while Colby shook his head slowly. “I was on the phone with Y/N earlier,” Sam continued while Colby stared at him frustratingly. “And she got into a car accident,” Sam started, taking in a breath he didn’t know he needed.

“What?” he let out quickly, “What do you-”

“She’s fine, and when I got off the phone with her she was getting into an ambulance,”

“Why were you tal-an ambulance? Oh god, how bad was it?” he asked, Sam stared towards him with his mouth gaped. “Sam?!”

“Colby, she was awake the entire time. It’s most likely a few bruises and a concussion,”

Colby huffed while walking towards his front door. He pulled on his shoes, “We don’t know that!”

“No we don’t, but she’s fine,” Sam tried to comfort him as much as possible.

“She’s going to the fucking hospital!” he yelled while he reached for his car keys.

“Colby don’t freak out, just calm down-”

“Don’t freak out?! Really? She could be dying! Oh god she could be dying, what hospital is it?! What hospital, Sam?!” Colby asked frantically.

“Just breathe, Dude, take a second.” Sam walked towards him raising his eyebrows. Colby met Sam’s eye as he watched Sam nod towards him. Colby rolled his eyes as he took in a long shaking breath. Sam nodded slowly, “Okay, let’s go,” Colby reaches for his keys, “Give em,” Sam demanded as they walked down the hall. Colby rolled his eyes as he tossed Sam his keys.

~~~

The entire car ride to the hospital Colby’s leg was bouncing uncontrollably while he fought off tears. The ride was silent, no radio or conversation. Colby kept staring out of his window watching the road as Sam drove. He pulled out his phone trying to call her several times, even though every time it went straight to voicemail. “What the fuck,” he shook his head as he pulled his phone down away from his ear. Sam glanced towards him before he continued to drive to the hospital.

Sam pulled in front of the door leading to the emergency room. Sam parked quickly, while Colby jumped out. He drove away, finding a parking spot. Colby jogged towards the door, pulling the door open. His eyes danced around the room, seeing a few empty beds and curtains covering other ones. He jogs towards the desk with a few nurses sitting behind computers. “I’m looking for Y/N Y/L/N, she was in a car accident and I-”

“Let me check,” the nurse interrupted him as she typed her name into the computer. Colby pulled his lips between his teeth as he rested his hands on top of the desk. She sighed as she stood up from her chair, “She’s in CT right now, but I’ll show you where you can wait for her,” she forced a smile as she began walking towards the visitor lobby. Colby reluctantly followed her while he pulled out his phone, to check the time.

“How long do you think it’ll be until I can see her?” he asked as they entered the lobby.

“I’ll let her doctors know you're here, but I’m not sure. Sit, it could be a while,” she sighed as she walked away from him. Colby clenched his jaw as he stared towards the chair before sitting on it. He rested his arms onto his knees as he rested his face into his hands. After a couple of minutes Sam came walking into the lobby, searching for Colby. He leaned back into his chair, meeting Sam’s eye. Sam rushed his footsteps towards him.

Sam sat down beside him, sighing. “Anything?” Colby shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. His bottom lip began to quiver as he glanced towards Sam. “She’ll be alright,” Sam squeezed Colby’s shoulder as they both leaned back into the chairs.

Colby took in a sudden breath, “Dammit, I should call her parents,” he pulled out his phone. Sam nodded as his eyes danced around the room. Colby stood up from the chair putting the phone to his ear. Twenty minutes went by with Colby talking with her mom, listening to her cry in panic. The entire phone call he was fighting the erge to cry himself.

Sam stood up as a doctor was walking towards him, Sam called Colby to come listen to what the doctor had to say. “The doctor is here, I’ll call you guys back later,” Colby quickly ended the call before walking towards them urgently.

“Are you Colby?” the doctor asked, he nodded as he licked his lips nervously.

The doctor smiled, “Okay, she was asking for you. When she first got here it was evident that she broke a couple ribs, which is nothing severe. She may experience pain and difficulty breathing at times for the next couple of weeks; which is normal. What I was mostly concerned about was that she is feeling a lot of pain in her head. We took her to get some tests done; most of the results that came back were normal. We are waiting for a few of the results still, but I’m fairly confident she just has a minor concussion.” Colby sighed in relief.

“I would like to keep her here overnight just to make sure everything is good, but other than that she is doing well,” he continued.

“Oh good, thank you,” Colby breathed, “When can we see her?”

“Now,” he smiled, “I’ll bring you both back now,” Colby turned towards Sam, trying to see if he would come with. Sam said that he was going to wait for Katrina to be there before going to see her. Colby understood as he followed the doctor, Dr. Miller, through the many halls to finally reach the room they put Y/N in. Dr. Miller knocked on the door a few times before pushing open the door; a wide grin evident to his features. “Y/N, see I told you I would find him,”

She closed her eyes while sighing in relief, “Okay, I’ll be back in an hour to check on you,” he smirked as he walked out of the room, closing the door. Colby pushed his bottom lip into a pout as he took in how hurt she looked. Her face was getting bruised with a few scratches. Colby’s eyes slowly filled with tears as he blinked quickly trying to fight them off.

“Hey, Bubby, stop that I’m fine,” she whined as she reached for his hand. Colby reached for the chair a couple of feet away, pulling it towards her bed. Sitting down beside her he takes her hand in his, pressing his lips against her knuckle for a few seconds.

“I know, it just scared me,” he rasped as he ran his thumb along the top of her hand slowly. His eyes continuously scanned her body making sure she looked alright. “How are you feeling?” he sighed while pressing his lips against her hand again.

“It hurts every time I breathe, but they said that’s because of my ribs,” she looked into his eyes, watching them narrow as his cheeks began to blush. His lips quiver while looking into her eyes.

“I’m sorry Baby, I wish I could do something,” he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. He pursed his lips forward while he took in a shaky breath. She took her hand away from Colby’s as she pushed her body up and over; creating space for him.

“Lay with me,” she whispered hissing in pain. He gave her a quick once over before slowly standing up from the chair. Pushing it back lightly. He laid delicately beside her on the bed, slowly wrapping his arm around her. He pressed his lips to her forehead while shutting his eyes. Taking in that she was okay. He sniffed as he pulled away, trying to stop himself from crying. She looked up to him, studying his features. Slowly, she raised her hand towards his face, resting her hand onto his cheek. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled as he lowered his body closer to her. He rested his head into the crook of her neck. He pressed his lips against her jaw before nuzzling more into her. “You’re okay,” he mumbled as he delicately wrapped his arm around her waist. She rested her hand on top of his, interlocking her fingers with his.

“Bub, I was scared too,”

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked briefly, lifting his head looking down towards her.

“I remember afterwards,” she pulled her lips between her teeth as she took in a slow breath, grimincing in pain. “I just remember watching people drive around my car like they saw nothing happen, and I remember hearing the car that hit me do the same thing,” Colby furrowed his eyebrows. He stared down towards her, she met his eye opening her mouth and closing it immediately.

“Wait, they hit you and left?” his tone filled with anger. “That’s fucked up,”

“The officer said that they got some of the license plate or something, I wasn’t paying attention,” she reached her hand up and rested it along his cheek, she ran her thumb lightly along his soft skin. “I’m fine, that’s all the matters, okay?” he clenched his jaw as he took a hesitant breath. “Colby, please,”

He nodded, “Okay,” he mumbled. His eyes look over the bruising along her cheek and forehead; small pink scratches cover parts of her face and her body, “Can I kiss you?” he asked innocently, she beamed, letting out a breathy laugh. “What?” he muffles with a smirk toying to his lips.

“It’s nothing, you’re just cute,” she whispered watching his cheeks flush pink. “Please kiss me, Love,”

[gubes-sweaters]

Mind, Body, and Soul

Authors Note: This is a Spencer Reid AU inspired by @subspencer​ who started the concept of this AU. This is their original idea btw their blog has top tier plug spence content it’s just *chefs kiss*. This is an AU where he went through school at a normal pace instead of graduating at twelve years old. For a little backstory, his childhood is very similar but instead, he became a plug in high school. He started using and selling because he got bored with school work easily since he’s a genius but no one was in his life to encourage him to excel in school. He also became a plug to help with his mom’s medical bills.

Content Warning: Implied drug use(weed/cocaine), Drinking, Swearing, and implied smut.

Word Count: 2.5K

Chapter 1: Silver Rings and Hand Tattoos

I’m not really a person who enjoys going to parties which is odd because I’m a college student. Most of my peers spend their free time getting high and drinking like fish. I guess you could say I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life because I grew up in the upper-middle-class suburbs and I went to a catholic school for my entire life. Neither of my parents are Catholic or even super religious for that matter, but they wanted me to have a “structured school experience” or whatever that means. I also was handed basically whatever I wanted on a silver platter. My parents separated when I was only two years old because my mom was tired of my dad always being gone for work. So I spent most of my life with my mom who coddled me. Being the sheltered kid I was I never went to parties or snuck out and my catholic school was an all-girls school so my experience with guys is very limited. I’m only at this party for one reason Penelope Garcia.

It all started when I began volunteering at the local animal humane society. That’s where I met Penelope Garcia. At first glance, you would think she was nothing short of the purest little cinnamon roll but looks can be very deceiving. She and I became close instantly, and we hung out whenever I wasn’t at school or working. The first time we hung out the topic of jobs came up and I told her that I’m a college student and I work at a comic book shop for a little extra cash even though I didn't need it because whatever my scholarship didn’t cover my dad insisted on paying for including my apartment because I didn’t want to live in a cramped dorm with three other girls. I think he thinks it makes up for all of the lost time during my childhood at least he’s trying though. When I asked her what she did for a living she started to giggle. After her giggle fit, she told me she was a hacker and a weed dealer.

After two years of knowing Penelope, she finally convinced me to go to and I quote “a little get together with a couple of friends” which actually looks a little more like a frat party to me. Either way, I decided why not because I’m going into my junior year in college, yet I only have three friends one being Penelope and the other two are my friends from my childhood. As I’m walking down the hallway of Penelope’s apartment building I can smell weed smoke and I can hear music blaring from here. I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten a noise complaint yet. It’s probably because she sells to a lot of her neighbors, so they put up with it. As I open the door this “little get together” is looking really intimidating. People are packed all in the apartment and there’s very little space to move around. I decided it’s probably best to try and find Penelope. I spot her across the room, but it’s kind of hard not to spot her with the glitter on her eyes and the flashy jewelry she’s wearing. It makes me giggle because I remember all of the times she's spilled various tubs of glitter all over her apartment and now you can’t leave her apartment without a little piece of glitter somewhere on you. 

I try to squeeze my way past all of the people in attempts to get near Penelope. I know she can’t hear me between the music that’s blasting and all of the people attempting to talk over the music so calling out for her is useless. As I make my way over to Penelope I spot two people making out on the couch which looks more like they’re trying to eat each other’s faces. Seriously the guy was gripping her hair like his life depended on it. I couldn’t see either of their faces but I spotted a spider web tattoo on the corner of his hand. I quickly look away because I realized I was looking for too long and it was starting to get creepy. I squeeze past the rest of the people and finally make my way over to Penelope and I grab onto her arm and nearly giver her a heart attack.

“Penelope what the hell happened to a little get together!” I ask her with a terrified look on my face.

“Oh finally you’re here I want you to meet a couple of people!” she squeaked out before grabbing my arm and beginning to pull me into the sea of people.

“Don’t avoid the question pen.” I say as I plant my foot in attempts to stop her from pulling me.

I didn’t work very well because she kept dragging me.

“I knew you wouldn’t show up if I told you how many people are here and I wanted you to have a good time sooooo, I figured telling a little white lie would be for the better.” She said while dragging me towards the couch where the two people with their tongues down each other’s throats were. I wonder where they snuck off to or if they just decided to call it a night and leave. I contemplate Penelope’s words and sigh because I know she’s right and I should learn to relax for once. 

“Sit here and I’ll get you something to drink.” She says before making her way through the sea of people once again.

I just sit on the couch very awkwardly for a couple of minutes with my hands folded in my lap wondering where Penelope is. I decide to pull out my phone because I’m too awkward to start a conversation with anyone. About half an hour later I take a glance over my phone when I see a figure walking towards me. I thought it must have been Penelope, so I look up even more and put my phone down. It’s just the girl from earlier but now she looks different because she has her mascara running down her face, she's missing a fake eyelash, her hair and clothes are messed up, she keeps sniffing, and now that she is facing me I can see that see her hair is split dyed with one side being black and the other being a bright red color. 

“Excuse me I’m sorry my purse is right there can you hand it to me please.” she says as she points to a cute black bag with bat wings on it.

“Uh, yeah here you go.” I say as I reach down and hand it to her.

“Thanks your skirt is so pretty by the way.” She says in a baby-talk voice while she reaches down and pats my head like a puppy. As she bends down slightly to pat my head I can see that her pupils are the size of saucers that explains a lot.

She proceeds to walk away without another word like that didn’t just happen. I’m left sitting there on the couch more confused than ever. I try to contain an awkward chuckle because I don’t want the people near me to think I’ve lost my mind. About five minutes later I figure Penelope must've gotten busy or distracted this is her party after all and it would be rude of me to expect her to be up my ass all night. So I stand up and flatten my pleated mini skirt then I make my way through the people who are packed together like sardines. I didn’t want to seem like a buzzkill or a priss, so I decided to try and socialize a bit. I figured I could make my way into whatever conversation Penelope was in so I wasn’t stealing her away and it would be easier to talk to new people if I had a friend there. As I make my way across the room once again I spot Penelope talking to a lanky guy that is way taller than me. As he has his back to me Penelope must’ve seen me because she waved at me and beckoned me over with one finger in a flirty way. That’s just who Penelope was she jokingly flirted with all of her friends. I’m so used to it by now that it’s just another thing about her that I love. I giggle and pick up my pace as the guy turns his head slightly to see who she was waving to. As I see his side profile I think he looks familiar but I figured it was the multi-colored lighting throughout the apartment and my mind was playing tricks on me. 

“Hey (y/n) I want you to meet a good friend of mine this is Spencer.” She says while not being able to get a word out without giggling. She must’ve smoked because she's always kind of giggly but now she can’t control herself. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” I say while giggling because of Penelope’s contagious laugh and I reach out my hand to shake his hand.

“Sorry I don’t shake hands it’s a germ thing.” He says while shifting his weight and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Of course, I had to go and make the situation awkward but at the same time how was I supposed to know. 

After the first couple of minutes, it wasn’t as awkward anymore. I found out he’s twenty-two, and he’s from Las Vegas but moved out here for college four years ago. I’m not sure why he choose to move across the country but I don’t really give it a second thought. I also noticed he didn’t talk about his childhood, his job, or anything really personal. We probably talked for about two or three hours. I didn’t even realize how many people left but gradually people would come up to Penelope and say bye. 

“Well my lovelies why don’t we turn the music down and switch on all of the normal lights, and we can all talk in the living room!” She says while sitting her cup down. 

I think she's absolutely out of her mind with all of the people here and as I go to point it out I turn my head to see that there are only six other people here now other than me, Penelope, and Spencer. Those other six people are already talking in her living room so Spencer walks over to talk to them. Penelope and I turn the music down low but still loud enough to barely hear over the people talking. After that, we turn all of the multi-colored lights off and flip on the regular lights.

Penelope takes a seat next to a pretty girl named Cat on the loveseat near her couch. Cat has shoulder-length dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a really pretty smile. When she introduces herself to me she’s nice, but she’s also very sarcastic. You can tell by the way Spencer shifted his eyes towards her when she and I were talking and how he instinctively turned away from her that they have some sort of history. The only seat left is in between Spencer and the arm of the couch. Three other people were already on the couch so there wasn’t much room. Spencer’s thigh was resting against mine in attempts to turn away slightly from Cat. I finally get a good look at him with normal lighting. He looks like he hasn't slept for a week but it suits him. He has kind hazel eyes and a really pretty mouth. I stop myself from staring because I don’t know him at all and I defiantly don’t want him to think I’m a creep.

Everybody was kind of just doing their own thing. People were either talking or on their phones. After a while, Spencer gently puts his hand right above my knee while I was just scrolling on my phone to avoid awkward small talk. I can feel the cold metal of his rings on my thigh and now I can feel his gaze on me. He lets out a little chuckle and rubs his thumb back and forth on my thigh because he can feel the goosebumps on my leg. I look down at my leg and I see a very familiar spider web tattoo. I instantly tense up because I remember what I saw on the couch and I remember what the girl looked like when she came back from wherever they disappeared off to. He removes his hand really quickly when he feels my body tense.

“Hey, are you okay? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I’m really sorry.” He begins to apologize.

“No no no you didn't do anything wrong. I… I was just thinking about something I have to do tomorrow and how I’m going to have to get up early. You’re okay you didn’t do anything wrong I promise.” I only half-lie really because he wasn't making me uncomfortable quite the opposite actually. My body didn’t tense because I was uncomfortable it was a reaction to the change in his demeanor. The guy on the couch before seems to be a completely different guy on the couch sitting right next to me. 

“You promise?” He asks me still clearly not believing my bullshit excuse.

“Promise.” I say turning my phone off and looking him right in the eyes. Wow, I don’t think I’ve noticed how pretty his eyes are. No. Nope. Don’t do this to yourself don’t be stupid. I try to avoid his gaze and put up walls. At the same time, he puts his hand back on my thigh but a little higher than last time and puts my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I feel myself leaning in towards him and my eyes flutter shut. For a moment I forget that we’re surrounded by other people and I forget where I’m at even. All of a sudden Penelope (clearly unaware of what she just interrupted) claps her hands so loudly that it alerts me and Spencer, and we separate before we kiss, but he doesn't remove his hand from my thigh. 

“Okay, my fine furry friends why don’t we play a drinking game. Let’s not let the fun die yet how about a game of never have I ever?” Penelope says after clapping her hands. Wow, thanks for cockblocking me Pen. Well, maybe not because that same hand that was just above my knee before has now made its way right below the hem of my skirt. This is going to be interesting. 

[tomuraxashes]

Found you (part 2)

—————————————-

The morning came quickly, and the LoV members were ready for the mission. At first, it all went so smoothly.

Kurogiri teleported Dabi and Twice there, Twice successfully made some clones who copied some employees (who got kicked out by Dabi), so they could find their target easily.

The problematic part stated with the stealing. That particular room when the secret file was kept, was obviously under a high security level, so they needed to immobilise the guards at first. The system of course indicated so they had not much time for the stealing.

The file was in a safe so at first they needed to open it. It wasn't a big problem cuz one of Twice's clones already find the key, but while they were busy with the opening, the heroes got into the room as well.

So then got Dabi in charge, to fight with them while Twice can get the folder.

It was okay, but suddenly there were too much heroes out of blue, which wasn't calculated in the plan. Even with some of Twice's clones of Dabi werent enough to fight with them all. They needed to be fast and retreat as quickly as they could.

When they had the file, Kurogiri came and teleported them back home.

The only problem was, Dabi got seriously injured.

- We need to take him to the doctors! - Toga insisted almost in panic - he will die!

- And what after? They will put him in jail! - Magne argued with her.

- Well, still better to be in prison then be dead - Compress stated - we would still have a chance to rescue him, but only if he is alive.

After a while, almost the whole League agreed that they need to go to the hospital. No matter what it takes, the priority is now Dabi's life. Even if they will be caught as well, and put in a jail - while taking him to the hospital.

They were about to decide who should bring Dabi to the hospital - and taking the risk to be captured as well, when Shigaraki suddenly interrupted their plannings.

- No one will go nowhere. Take Dabi in my room now, and that's all.

- How could you say this, boss? Don't you see if he doesn't get a professional medical treatment he could die easily? - Toga almost shouted, and the rest of the League seemed to share her opinion now.

- We already decided, we will take him to the doctors even if it costs out freedom. The remaining of us will make a plan to free us, but it doesn't matter now, Dabi is barely alive, don't you see? - she continued, while almost crying.

- I said, you don't go anywhere. Just take Dabi to my room and don't fucking piss me off - Tomura was loosing his calmness - and that's not a request but a fucking order.

Toga wanted to disagree again, but then Magne caught her arms as a warning. He is the boss, that's right. They cannot act on their own, without his permission. That would be a treason - however, they all were thinking about the same thing.

Maybe Tomura wants to protect them but what it costs? They cannot let their friend die just because Shigaraki is somehow too narrow minded. They need to convince him, or if it cannot work, then they have to unite - and go against the order.

Meanwhile this silent vow was made between the members, they took Dabi into the boss's room, as he ordered.

The flame villain was barely conscious, and he really needed to be healed.

Now, all the members of the League were standing in Shigaraki's room. They were ready even to commit a treason - (well not Kurogiri but the others) - they decided they won't let Dabi die, no matter what.

They were now waiting- what is Shigaraki up to now. Why he wanted Dabi to be in his room?

- Leave us alone - that was all they got.

If they weren't too hectic, they would see how Tomura is not exactly all right. But they were only busy with Dabi now. They were almost ready to disobey their boss, when Kurogiri stopped their intentions

- Before doing any recklessness, please trust Shigaraki Tomura.

The League was now merely confused. They always trusted him and obeyed him, but now they didn't know his plans and the matter was no less than Dabi's death..

- Dont be afraid I will cure him. Just get out! - that was all they finally got from their leader.

.

His own subordinates were looking at him with a heavy gaze. They made it clear - they are ready to disobey, they are ready to risk their lives in order to save Dabi's.

But he won't allow it. He is the fucking leader, and if someone has to, than he will be the one who will put his life into a risk.

He can't figure it out but he do care. He won't let them down. And mostly - he won't let Dabi down.

No one's gonna die from his subordinates.

So in order to achieve this goal, he will use his other quirk. Which he hadn't use for years. Not since his family died...

This would be the first time he's gonna use it on somebody else than his mom, sister .. and Touya.

.

"Cure?" - Dabi barely heard his boss talking to the others. He saw them leaving the room, now there were only two of them.

Dabi was slightly breathing. He felt his body overheated and even his old injuries got worse. It was so fucking painful for him - even the breathing was somehow difficult. He didn't really wanted to be taken to the hospital but he wanted to endure the pain. His heart almost melted when he heard the League members determined to saving him. So they really consider him as a family?

And now - what are Shigaraki's plans? Will he kill him? With his given quirk Dabi couldn't really imagine anything else. Decay is not the one for healing people...

He was almost satisfied with the thought of death, when he suddenly felt some relieving feelings.

He didn't open his eyes yet, but he felt his breathing is normal again, and his burnt scars are hurting less and less.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Shigaraki's hand over him and he felt the energies coming trough his skin and curing his injuries.

- What the.. - he mumbled quite surprisedly.

- Dont embarrass me! - he heard his boss a little anxiously.

- I'm not doing anything, damn just lying there as half dead, what's your problem?

- Just .. don't stare at me. I'm quite anxious anyways.

- Wow, chill.. but what exactly are you doing? How am I feeling so much better?

- If it's obvious, I'm trying to cure you. But I haven't done it for years, so please.. just shut up and close your eyes.

- Mkay - Dabi agreed - but wait. No. How are you doing this? I thought your quirk is decay, and now you are .. I just don't understand.

- My quirk is decay, but you know, there are people born with two quirks as well. So am I, I do have an other quirk, which is something like a reincarnation, and I'm trying to use it, so if you'd let me I would continue it - Tomura was a little bit pissed off now.

It seemed like it took Dabi some sec to get the information, because he was silent for a bit, but not for too long.

- So.. besides the destruction, you are able to reincarnate... are you a fucking Hindu god crossover or what?

-What - the bluenette was totally lost for now on.

- You know, the Trimurti? You are basically a Brahma x Shiva - Dabi said mischievously.

- I don't really believe in any gods but okay, think whatever you want. Just be silent for a bit and let me heal you finally!

Dabi somehow managed to not to speak, even if his mind was full of questions and conspiracy now, he let his boss doing his thing, what was.. really comfortable. The warmth coming from his hands were truly magical, he felt all his injuries healing - they felt like they never existed before.

That feeling was somehow familiar...

Tomura was almost done, when he noticed Dabi has a short but deep cut on his face. There was a liquid dripping out of it, and Tomura was certain it was a poison.

- Oh fuck... he mumbled.

- Sup? - Dabi asked immediately.

- You really got it rough - Tomura said a little worried - it seems to me that someone cut you with a poisoned blade. And they call themselves as "heroes", fucking ridiculous...

- Oh, I guess that was a guy with the ninja stuff - Dabi answered loosely - ladys and gens, just top hero things.

- Stop messing around, I need to deal with that - Shigaraki mumbled - the hell is that so small, I almost can't see a thing.

- Maybe just put the hand off and you will see? - Dabi suggested

- You... - Shigaraki started angrily ... but after thinking it over, the burnt man had a point. With "father" on his face he can't see the details and now he has to be punctual. He promised himself, he will save Dabi. - Ok. But fucking close your eyes and if you dare to open them I swear I will decay you at that very second.

- As you wish, my king - Dabi smiled

- Shut up!

Tomura - after seeing Dabi really closed his eyes and he is not watching him in secret, carefully took "Father" off of his face, and leaned closer to Dabis face. Firstly he carefully took off the poison and then he healed the cut itself. At the end, it looked like it was never there.

He did it, actually he did it well - he thought. He didn't exactly trust himself that much, he wasn't sure about the results, but here it was. Everything all right. So he can still do it.

He can save the people he want to.

He can save his League.

He can save Dabi..

At that very moment he suddenly felt a warm kiss on his cheek. He was so distracted he didn't notice Dabi is now all right, with his eyes opened - looking at him with an admired gaze.

Tomura instantly jumped off his bed and he felt he will die now. His words abandoned him, nothing came up his mind - he had no clue what to say.

This fucking bastard - not only he saw his face, he even dared to kiss him? How? Why?

He wanted to disintegrate him at least, and shouting his head off, but before he could do that, he felt two strong arms hugging him tightly, and when he looked up to the other man, those beautiful turquoise eyes just kept him as he was their prisoner.

- What.. are you thinking you are doing? - Tomura said but rather shyly than angrily. He wanted to free himself from the embrace of the other man, but his body wasn't obeying. He just stood there helplessly.

- I just want to thank you properly - the flame villain smiled adorably - for saving my life, and treating my injuries, well, again.

- What do you mean by again? - Tomura was quite confused right now.

But instead of an answer, he now got a longer but soft kiss on his lips.

- You know - Dabi finally spoke up - Deep down I always knew you didn't die, and that I will find you.

It's so wonderful I finally found you, Tenko!