#he tried to be relatable and dug in his backpack for a book but it was all trash and it was getting everywhere

[muskmelon-enjoyer-199x]

trains in europe are cool because they're affordable and eco-friendly and go everywhere and blah blah blah

actually my favorite part about european trains is that I never had to deal with tweakers sexually harassing me or spitting in my general direction

[creativesnek]

🔥Bowser Day🔥

The draconic Koopa stood by the stove, watching over some sizzling eggs and bacon. Junior sat on the counter, furiously coloring something on his drawing book. Bowser placed the breakfast on three separate plates, then turned around. “Luigi, food’s up!” he yelled. Junior perked up at his voice and shoved his supplies to the side.

Luigi hopped down the hallway, putting on his shoes. He was dressed in black shorts and a green tank top; the outfit matched Bowser’s, except his was red. As Luigi entered the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice the delicious aroma of the sizzling eggs and bacon. His stomach growled in anticipation as he took a seat at the table. Bowser placed a plate in front of him, then turned to Junior.

"Here you go, kiddo," Bowser said, placing a smaller portion on Junior's plate. Junior's eyes widened with excitement as he eagerly dug into his breakfast.

Bowser glanced over at Junior's drawing book, curious about what had captured his attention so intensely. As he leaned closer, he saw that Junior had been coloring a sketch of yesterday’s visit to the beach. Impressed by his son's artistic skills, Luigi smiled and ruffled Junior's hair affectionately. "You're getting better every day, buddy," he praised.

The koopa moved toward Luigi and kissed the top of his head before taking his place at the table. He enjoyed the peaceful domestic feel at the table. It certainly helped balance the chaotic side of his life; with summer nearly over, the bar he worked at was going to be packed for weeks.

Bowser felt a sense of contentment wash over him as he observed his family's joyous interactions. The clinking of cutlery, the laughter echoing through the room, and the warmth radiating from their shared moments filled his heart with a rare tranquility.

Having eaten their fill, the trio cleaned and put away their plates. Junior grabbed his supplies and stuffed them back into his backpack before standing by the door. His father chuckled before grabbing their belongings; he was alway excited to go spend the weekend with his grandparents.

Bowser secured his sling bag, then opened the door for his family. Junior practically bolted out of the house and towards his truck; Luigi followed closely behind with a mug in his hand. Bowser pulled out his keys, “I’m going to be a little late today,” he said.

Luigi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, did you get extra hours today?”

“Yeah. I find it kinda weird ‘cuz I didn’t request any,” Bowser replied. 

His boss, Birdette, pretty much stuck to a routine for him. She would have him there during rushes but would be home early to spend time with his family; however, she deviated from that today inexplicably. Eh, he wasn’t about to complain; extra hours mean extra money. Luigi walked to Bowser’s side and said “All right then. I’ll see you later,” before moving away

.

.

.

After dropping Junior off, Bowser headed to work. He parked his truck in the back of the building and got out. The koopa quickly entered and was met with loud cheering. Bowser exhaled smoke in surprise, then opened his eyes. The entire bar was decorated with black and red spiky decorations.

As Bowser made his way through the rowdy crowd, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of confusion and excitement. The usually dimly lit bar was now illuminated with an eerie red glow, casting menacing shadows across the room. The air was thick with anticipation, and Bowser's heart raced as he tried to make sense of the unexpected scene before him.

His fellow co-workers were dressed in their usual fitness-related uniforms; however, they had spiked accessories on, similar to the decorations. Now that Bowser looked at them closely, the jewelry looked alot like the ones he wore. He chuckled nervously and clutched his sling bag. “What’s uh… what’s all this?” he said. 

Daisy pushed people aside, grinning like a madwoman, her vibrant orange top caught everyone's attention. Its bold hue seemed to radiate energy, mirroring her infectious enthusiasm. The white shorts she wore added a touch of contrast, accentuating her carefree spirit. The tall, buff woman playfully smacked his chest, “Ready, Pec-Man?” she asked.

“Um… Is there something I missed? Is this a special event or something?” replied Bowser.

Daisy’s face dropped. “It’s August 4th.”

The koopa gave her a blank stare.

“It’s Bowser Day, handsome.”

  The black curtains covering the bar moved, revealing a massive crowd. Customers gathered around, some were even holding posters and wore black jewelry. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and cheers as they caught sight of Bowser. Many clawed at the glass in a fanatic craze.

The koopa, still wearing a puzzled expression, finally registered Daisy's words. His eyes widened in surprise as he comprehended what she meant. The co-workers around him burst out in laughter at his expression.  Bowser had completely forgotten about his day. Birdette looked at him from the window and shook her head. She walked towards him with her hands on her hips, “All right everyone. Get to your stations! Give the man room to work his magic,” she said. Daisy and the others walked away.

The dragon koopa ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Birdette fluffed her bow. “Remember, Bowser: if any of the guests start getting handsy, don’t be afraid to stop them. Don’t, like, throw them into the wall but also don’t let them get their way,” she said.

Bowser nodded. “Got it, boss queen.”

“Damn right I am.”

Bowser moved away and put his bag behind the bar. Giving Birdette the all clear, she threw open the door. The crowd quickly filed in just as the koopa was taking a seat in a special table, just for him. 

As the guests started to fill the room, Birdette stood at the entrance, greeting each one with a warm smile and a gracious welcome. She made sure to keep a watchful eye on everyone, scanning the room for any signs of trouble or inappropriate behavior. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement as people mingled and chatted. Alcohol started flowing. 

However, the true highlight was him.

The second guests got their drinks, they would bee-line for his table for pictures with Bowser. All sorts of guests, male and female of all kinds of species, flocked to his table, yearning for his attention. He posed for pictures, signed autographs, and answered questions. Bowser’s fangs smiled through his smile. 

From what he heard, some people even flew from out of state just to participate in Bowser day and he was very grateful for that; it certainly fed his ego a good amount but it also filled him with a sense of warmth. Bowser’s not exactly the warm and cuddly looking guy and it has taken time for people to realize that he’s not as frightening as he seemed. 

Many shared stories of how they had initially been terrified of him, only to discover that he possessed a surprising depth and complexity. They spoke of his loyalty, his determination, and even his occasional moments of vulnerability; he did the occasional volunteer work with Peaches. Quite a few of them idolized them and wanted to follow their example. Other fitness enthusiasts wanted to know about his routine and other things related.

Occasionally, Bowser got the brave soul that wanted to flirt with him; however, he quickly shot them down. Bowser’s heart was entirely occupied by Luigi. The little green man was the only one who had Bowser’s full affection and it will remain so until the end of time.

Honestly, the dragon koopa has been thinking of proposing. They both have stable incomes (his was the fitness bar; Luigi had that plumbing business with his brother), Junior adored Luigi, and frankly it seemed overdue. But that’s something to consider another day.

Right now, he has fans practically fighting like piranha plants for his attention.

A bell ringing echoed through the room. Customers, all in varying stages of intoxication, cheered and smiled. Bowser chuckled and stood up. “Come on, everybody! Iiiit’s showtime!” While squealing and cheering with excitement, the crowd followed him to an adjacent room full of training equipment. 

Midbus, another employee, joined him at the arm-wrestling table. Several of the customers hooted and slapped their chests; the pink warthog had quite the fanbase himself. Not as huge as Bowser’s, but he still had one nonetheless. The koopa took off one of his bracelets, then threw it into the crowd; a human man grabbed it and bolted out, several others on his tail. With a puff of smoke, he sat down and extended his arm. Midbus did the same, flashing a cheshire grin.

As the crowd cheered and placed their bets, the atmosphere at the arm-wrestling table grew electric. Midbus, known for his immense strength and intimidating presence, was a force to be reckoned with. His massive arms bulged with muscles, and his toothy grin only added to his menacing aura.

On the other side of the table, Bowser exuded confidence. He’s faced Midbus before and honestly this thing could go either way. The two have similar routines and were at similar strength levels so it was all on them. Birdette raised it to signal the start of the match. The room fell into a hushed silence as all eyes focused on the two competitors. Bowser's fiery determination clashed with Midbus' unwavering resolve.

With a sudden burst of energy, they locked hands in a fierce grip. The table trembled under their combined strength as they strained against each other's might. Sweat dripped down their brows as their muscles bulged with exertion. The crowd exploded with cheers and chants as they tried to motivate their favored champion. Midbus sputtered with the strain. “Losing your touch, old man,” he said. His accent was heavy.

Bowser raised his brow. “Old?!” he said, fully offended. “Did y’all hear that?”

His followers gasped in offense for him and started booing Midbus, whose grip slipped ever so slightly. Bowser narrowed his eyes, “I’ll have you know I’m only 34! And just recently benched 2045!”

With a new fire in his belly, Bowser pushed himself to the limit, muscles straining against the heavy load. Midbus snorted steam and fought against his grip more earnestly but faltered. As Midbus struggled to maintain his grip on the weights, doubt began to creep into his mind. Bowser seized this opportunity to prove himself once again. With a mighty roar that reverberated through the room, he slammed Midbus’ hand on the table and quickly stood up to cheer. 

The room exploded with cheers. Bowser flexed his arms and laughed boisterously, relishing in the sound of victory and flashing cameras. Midbus stretched his wrist, “No easy on the newbie?” he asked.

Bowser snickered. “Nah, man. You messed with the King of Koopas; deal with the consequences,” he said jokingly.

Midbus halfheartedly groaned. Bowser patted his back and returned his attention to his fans. As the crowd continued to cheer, Bowser basked in the adoration, reveling in his triumph. The room was filled with a mix of excitement and awe, as people clamored to get closer to the fearsome King of Koopas. Cameras flashed incessantly, capturing every moment of his victory.

The night continued in a similar fashion. He would interact with his fans back at the table and at the end of the hour, Bowser would perform a fit of strength like lifting weights (with 2 fans hanging onto the ends) and pull-ups. He did it all with a huge smile on his face.

Fans eagerly lined up to meet Bowser, hoping for a chance to exchange a few words or snap a photo with their idol. The room buzzed with excitement as people shared stories of their favorite Bowser moments and debated his unparalleled strength. Cameras clicked incessantly, capturing every moment of this extraordinary encounter.

But like all good things, they have to come to an end.

Just as the sun was setting, his shift ended. 

Many of the customers, mostly the diehard ones, did not want to leave and had to be dragged by their friends. Birdette even had to chase some out with a spray bottle; it took all of Bowser’s willpower not to laugh at the amount of times people yelled they loved him and then got hit with water. He yawned and leaned against the bar. Daisy walked over to him, “I still don’t know how you forgot today is your day,” she said, playfully pulling on his horn.

Bowser hissed and slapped her hand away. “Could you not?”

“How’s Luigi and the little demon?” asked Daisy.

“Junior’s good. Still a menace to society as usual,” he said with a chuckle. “And things with Luigi are going great. He's been working hard at the plumbing business and we've managed to save up enough to finally take that vacation we've been talking about," Bowser continued, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Daisy smiled, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Oh, where are you two planning to go?"

“Delfino probably. Although we might go to Italy since I know Luigi wants nothing more than to show us his hometown,”

The two continued to chat for a bit. Bowser certainly appreciated a calm conversation; his social battery was running low after the day he had. He was just ready to go home and cuddle with his boyfriend. And with that in mind, he said goodbye to his co-workers and headed home.

──●◎●──

Luigi was lying on his stomach, body aching from today’s work. He sighed with disappointment; they had such a high volume of customers today that he missed Bowser Day! He so wanted to go; ever since they started dating, Luigi hasn’t missed it once until today. It was such a fun day and why wouldn’t he want to see his big, buff boyfriend Bowser showing off his strength?

As Luigi lay there, reminiscing about past Bowser Days, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He had always admired Bowser's incredible strength and power, and watching him compete in various challenges was a thrilling experience. From lifting heavy objects to participating in intense arm-wrestling matches, Bowser's dominance was undeniable.

But today, as the customers flooded their business, Luigi found himself trapped in the whirlwind of work. No gawking at the handsome hunk of a dilf that he bagged for himself. He thought about asking Mario to let him leave early but he felt bad about leaving his brother on his own. So he bit the bullet and stayed.

Even if he did want to see Bowser being his boisterous self.

Suddenly he heard the front door open. The house shook slightly by familiar footsteps. Luigi looked to the side as Bowser entered the room with heavy-lidded eyes. He shrugged off his shell and placed it on the wall hook. Then he flopped onto the bed, right onto Luigi. The human let out muffled chuckles and wrapped his arms around Bowser’s head, “Tired, amore?”

Bowser replied with a grumble.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go… Things were very busy today; I was almost all over town.”

“ ‘s fine…”

Luigi moved so that Bowser’s head was comfortably on his chest; he moved hi shand through his red mane and gently scratched the base of the horns. The dragon koopa purred with content. Luigi could feel the tension slowly melting away from Bowser's body as he continued to scratch his horns. While Luigi continued his ministrations, he also kissed his head. Bowser rumbled with delight and fluffed the blankets with his claws, like a cat making biscuits. 

“I hope you had fun today,” 

“My day got better the second I flopped on this bed.”

The human laughed and pulled the koopa closer. Luigi smiled warmly at Bowser's response, feeling a surge of affection for the usually fierce and intimidating koopa. As he continued to stroke Bowser's head, the two slowly drifted off to sleep. 

[cakers-2000]

Hey ! Are you taking requests right now ? If so, can you write, like, literally anything you want with Hanako-kun and s/o ? I just finished the anime and I'm craving more content 🥺🥺🥺

It's been so long since you requested I'm so sorry!

Still I hope you enjoy! I was already planning on writing something for Hanako-kun he's my absolute favorite so it all worked out perfectly! 🥰

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~Savior (Hanako-Kun X Reader)~

Word Count: 1.3k

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Sometimes you cursed the day you met Hanako. He was annoying, loud, kind of arrogant and to top it all off, a spirit left to inhabit your school and torture you daily. Your first meeting with Hanako had been… eventful to say the least.

Being related to Kou definitely had its pros and cons. In fact your first introduction to the ghost boy was through Kou himself.

And ever since that day he had been a blight on your life, making it his mission to annoy you every chance he got.

A small sigh escaped your throat as you sat yourself down against the wall in an empty hallway. Your day had been more than hectic, you almost cried when you heard the final bell signaling your school day was over. You could finally relax, something you had been looking forward to all day. You were practically hiding yourself from your best friend Akane, he could be… a handful sometimes, especially with his affection for Aoi. Not that you didn’t love him and his interests but today, he was just too much for you. Normally you would go home and relax there but lately, home wasn’t even home for you anymore.

You reached into the school bag resting beside you and dug through, fingers dancing along the edges of your many different school books before your eyes caught a dazzling silver gleam. You grabbed the object and pulled out a rather small book. It couldn’t have been bigger than a cellphone. You flipped through the book, hesitating on each page that held a brilliantly drawn picture.

One held a picture of that dear friend Akane. Another of Aoi watering the plants in class. Yet another held a picture of your two brothers Kou and Minamoto. Your hand stopped when you spotted the smiling face of Hanako himself. It had actually been quite a few days since you had last seen the ghost boy. You would admit it had been relaxing to get a break from him, but you did wonder how he was doing and what had stopped him from bugging you daily like he used to. You flipped to the next page in the book, a blank sheet and once more dug through your backpack to search for a pencil or pen.

You had failed to notice the shadow slinking towards you. Nor had you noticed your book slip daintly off of your lap and disappear into the dark depths of the hallway in front of you.

Finally you felt the cool metal of your pen and you reached for your book, excited to get the artistic juices flowing again but were shocked to find that it wasn’t there.

“What the…”

You slowly stood yourself up and grabbed the backpack, throwing it on your back and beginning your search for the book. If it was a new book you would’ve paid it no mind and simply left but that book had years worth of sketches in it. You had almost completed every page, it was so much hard work you couldn’t just leave it.

As you strolled further and further down the hallway you began to feel uneasy. The hairs on the back of your neck seemed to stand on end and you could almost swear there was the sound of feet behind you, but everytime you looked there was no one.

You let out a defeated sigh when you seemed to arrive at a dead end, your book nowhere in sight and kicked at the ground in frustration. All of that hard work, gone.

You felt something hit your toes and glanced down to find the book, resting upside down on the ground. Your face contorted into one of displeasure and confusion before you bent down to grab hold of it and then you heard it. The pitter patter of something dripping from the ceiling. Right above you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt something cold drop onto your cheek.

What the hell!?

You slowly lifted your gaze upwards, fear rushing through your system and almost screamed when you saw the disgusting creature in front of you. It looked like a black blob, but its teeth. They were so sharp, and the drool that fell from its jaws as it stared down at you. It sent a shudder down your back. You wanted to scream, to cry out for help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were frozen in utter fear.

Besides, this thing wasn’t human. Who was going to help you from this kind of beast?

You felt a tentacle-like object slink its way around your foot and you let out a gasp as it pulled you to the floor, still standing above you as it came closer, ready to devour.

You racked your brain. Who could help you? You couldn’t die like this.

And finally your body let you scream out the only name you knew could help you.

“HANAKO!”

It was a long shot. There was only a small chance he would be able to even hear you let alone rescue you in time, but it was that or nothing.

The creature came even closer at your shout and you could feel its hot breath on your face. If you reached a finger out you’d be able to pierce it on the teeth only inches from your nose. You closed your eyes. This was it. You were dead.

The sound that greeted you made your stomach churn. The sound of a knife sliding through meat, an odd gurgling sound that made you want to gag, and then the creature above you screamed. You didn’t dare open your eyes as you felt a rush of cool liquid drip on top of you, not that you would’ve been able to see anyways, your tears would have blurred your vision all too much.

“Good work Hakujoudai.”

That voice. That oh so familiar voice. You quickly snapped your eyes open at the sound and could see him standing before you, waggling his finger playfully at the Yo-Kai ball circling around him.

He could seem to sense you staring at him and smiled warmly in your direction. “Hi thereeeee. Made it just in time huh?”

He practically skipped towards you and knelt down beside you. You could feel his cold hands grab onto your cheek as he wiped what you could now see was a piece of that disgusting blob creature off of you. “I’m glad I made it.”

You opened your mouth to speak but the sound that escaped you was that of a squeak as he pulled you into his arms. Your head rested firmly against his chest as he held onto you with a rather tight grip.

“H-Hanako.”

“Shhh…”

You did as he said, allowing him to rest his head on top of your own. His fingers were cold as always but you allowed him to intertwine his with your own and trace patterns along the top of your hand with his thumb.

“Please be more careful (Y/N).”

His voice was just above a whisper as he spoke to you, giving your hand a light squeeze to emphasize how serious he was.

“I will. Thank you for protecting me.”

He pulled himself away at your words and stared you down before bursting out into laughter. You tilted your head rather quizzically at him and he tried to stifle his giggles. He stood himself up and held his hand out to help you up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up in the restroom, okay?”

A smile fell to your face and you gave him a nod before accepting his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

“Whatever you say Hanako.”

[vampiric-daydreams]

Enlightenment

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 3 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: Your secret investigation picks up speed and you finally talk to Jasper. As the evidence piles up, you wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake. A surge of courage paves a new course for your future.

Word Count: 2,814

A/N: !!!!!!!!

*

Your finger hovered over the call button as you stared at Jasper’s name with intent. Your hairs stood on end as the chilly night air forced you deeper into the thick blankets enveloping you. The bitter cold clouded your windows as midnight approached, and the soft pitter-patter of rain splashing on the roof served as a comforting lullaby.  Heavy eyelids threatened to fall as Jasper’s name blurred. You tapped the screen.

‘Hey,’

The word sat in the text box and waited for you to press send. It was the third time you had tried to contact him that night. First craving to hear his voice, knowing that his words and his time in that moment would be only for you; and then settling for a message you would never send. What if, after he felt he’d resolved everything, that would be it? No more talking? Those ideas were enough to make you shut the screen off and leave the phone on charge.

You wanted this to be a chance for a beginning, not an ending. It was his choice to not want to be with you, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be near you. As painful as his sheer loyalty and devotion to Alice was, it only caused you to like him more. Long forgiven were his shameless brags about his girlfriend; they made you blush when you imagined him talking about you.

As your head sank into your pillow, thoughts of affection lulled you to sleep; and dreams of soft lips and firm hands carried you through the lonely, frigid night.

 *

 At school, life went on. Jason proceeded to pine after Eric Yorkie, just as you pined after Jasper. Alice continued to greet you whenever she saw you, but the other Cullens had faded into the background. As you walked into your English class expecting to see your neighbouring seat empty again, somebody was already sitting there, nibbling on a pencil.

Bella Swan wore her hair in a low, messy ponytail. She tugged at the sleeves of her flannel. “H-Hey,” she said as you approached. “You’re (Y/N), right?” Your heart fluttered; not because she knew your name, but because she likely heard it from a Cullen - and you hoped it was Jasper who had mentioned you. You slid into your seat beside her, tripping over her old orange backpack on the way. She dragged her bag out of the walkway and stammered a quick, “sorry.”

“You’re Bella Swan?” You feigned ignorance. Bella nodded. “You’re dating Edward, right?”

Her shoulders seemed tense. “Y-Yeah, for a while.”

“So how come you switched classes?” Did Jasper make her so he could get away from you?

“Oh, uh, the admin ladies just said another student wanted to switch due to a class conflict, so I said I didn’t mind.” Wanted. Jasper had chosen to distance himself from you, and the reminder made you skip a breath.

“I haven’t seen Edward around today, did he skip school without you or something?” You changed the subject before you could cry, still careful to not pry too hard with Bella. This was a chance to dig deeper into the Cullens and their secret.

“Oh… he isn’t feeling well, so he’s at home.” Bella Swan was a terrible liar. She had so many tells and nervous habits, you couldn't believe her father was the chief of police. Bella stopped tugging at her flannel sleeves and instead rolled them up to her elbows. You would never have seen it if she hadn’t raised her arm to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear—but there it was; clear as crystal. A scar marred the inner side of her wrist; lighter than the rest of her skin and raised. A human bite.

 *

 Never had you noticed, despite all your pining for the Hale boy, that none of the Cullens ever ate anything. Emmett and Rosalie’s trays held a few pieces of fruit, whole and untouched, until Alice and Jasper joined them in dumping their food in a nearby trash can. They never eat or go to the bathroom. You had thought more about how safe your thoughts were and deemed that most evidence you had towards mind-reading pointed at Edward. It was Edward who put words into your mouth—and even Alice pointed her finger at him in the phony story she had tried to feed you. You would test that theory today and not hide your thoughts to see what would happen. 

Reciting the proof you’d gathered in your head, there was a word on the tip of your tongue. A very strong accusation—one that was mythical and insane, but you couldn’t shake the idea since you saw Bella’s bite mark. The notebook on the table was open to your ‘Cullen’ page, and you were near enough to observe their irises from where you were sitting. You just needed to act nonchalant about it.

You hadn’t updated your notebook for a week as you hadn’t gotten close enough to any of them to have a proper look. But your table was only ten strides away from theirs. You clicked your pen. Monday, Emmett, gold. Jasper, gold. You took a bite out of your sandwich, creating a gap in glances so as not to draw their attention. Rosalie, gold. Your heart was racing. Alice, gold. You glanced back at the previous entry just to be sure, but the black ink told no lies. Rosalie and Alice’s eyes had changed. Your hand moved, and the words formed on the paper in front of you.

Get close, check for contacts.

It was the last logical explanation for any of it; and while Jasper’s eyes never changed, he would be the easiest Cullen to talk to today as he was still waiting to apologise and give you his own phony explanation. After lunch, it didn’t take long for you to find Jasper waiting outside one of his classes. All it took was one look for him to follow you out to a quiet space behind one of the back buildings on campus.

His Southern twang made your heart melt. “You didn’t call. I thought you weren’t ready.”

Why didn’t his biological sister sound Southern?

“I wanted to do this in person.” You took care to seem assertive, despite your teeth threatening to chatter and your palms sweating.

“(Y/N), I’m not even sure where to start…” Jasper began apologising, just as his adopted siblings and girlfriend did before him; repeating the same so-called explanation supposed to make everything go away. You tried to focus on your goal instead of the way his voice broke, or the way the tips of his strawberry blonde hair brushed against his strong jawline. Concentrating on his eyes, you were looking for a very thin line—one that would give away a contact lens. But his eyes were flawless, clear, and natural. A chill crept up your spine.

The more Jasper spoke, the more you heard that his manner of speaking sounded dated at times. It came and left like each beat of a butterfly’s wing, but it was noticeable to somebody already on that train of thought. That word that came to you earlier threatened to slip from your tongue if you weren’t careful; and you restrained it by clenching your teeth.

“I understand,” you replied once Jasper had finished reciting the script they had given him. A swift wind of courage blew through your body as you straightened up. “And I’m sorry for making you stew in guilt for this long. I guess I was just afraid to approach you.” You twisted the knife. “But even Alice said, it’s not like any of you bite, right?”

Jasper’s gaze morphed from sincerity to one that pierced through you. His body turned rigid, and his eyes squinted ever so slightly. “That’s right. We gave you one hell of an impression. But as you can see, that impression was wrong, and we’re just average people like you.” The double-edge in his words threatened to cut you. “So, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

The suspicion that drove you suddenly came to a halt; replaced by a warm feeling of satisfaction and comfort. It was just like that time you had that confrontation with Jasper and Edward, and you felt soothed; but this time, you were conscious of it. So, you soldiered on through this strange, artificial complacency and tried to hold on to any shred of logic you had left.

“It’s weird how whenever my anger or difference of opinion becomes inconvenient for you, I suddenly feel this strange toggling of my emotions.” The cosy aura strengthened. You remained aware. “It’s almost as if you’re controlling it somehow. Just like how Edward knows what I’m thinking and Alice has no trouble finding me. But there’s nothing to see here, right?”

Jasper stopped whatever it was he was trying to do and gave you an incredulous look. “Come with me.”

He started walking, never turning back to check if you were following, towards an outline of trees in the distance that led to the forest. You walked in the opposite direction, back into the school. Now that your theory was all but confirmed, you wouldn’t follow any of his kind into further seclusion. Entering the nearest building, the gym, you sat on the bleachers and pulled out your notebook. There would be enough witnesses surrounding you to ensure your safety. You dug around in your backpack for a loose pen and clicked it.

The Cullens are vampires.

-          Edward, mind reading

-          Jasper, emotions, cold skin

-          Bella, bite scar on arm

-          Alice… extreme knowing???

-          Never eat

-          Never use bathroom

-          All look the same, not biologically related

-          Eyes change colour, no contact lenses

You slammed the book shut and stuffed it back in your backpack. Clenching your car keys, you felt eyes on you. On your hands, on your back, on your face. Fear took over your mind as abandoned all logic and raced out of the gym and into your car; darting your eyes left and right for any angry vampires waiting to murder you to conceal their secret.

This was a mistake. A horrible mistake. You should have told someone where you were going, and who you were going with so the Cullens would be accountable. The engine roared to life as you slammed your foot on the accelerator. What if they killed your family over this? You swerved, narrowly missing a police car in an intersection. Red and blue lights flashed behind you as a siren sounded. Shit. You pulled over in a side street and rolled down your window.

The officer pulled in behind you, taking his time to get out of the police car. You tapped your fingers on the dusty dashboard, checking your side mirror to see what was taking so long; only to watch as Chief Swan himself shut his car door and strolled over to your side window.

“Everything all right over here?” He put his hands on his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry Officer—I mean Chief Swan—I’m in a hurry to get home, I’m not feeling well.” Your knuckles whitened as you clenched your fists.

“You have a licence with you?” He was holding a clipboard and a pen. The last thing you needed was a fine on top of everything else. You handed him your licence and tried to look as pathetic as possible. “Well, (Y/N),” he read your name, “must be one hell of an illness.”

“I’m really sorry, Chief Swan. I was feeling anxious at school and I needed to get out of there and back home where I’ll feel better.”

Chief Swan sighed. “I can drop you off, and my partner will drive your car home.” He gave you a stern look. “I won’t fine you this time. Just drive more carefully? Maybe let somebody else drive if you’re this stressed out?”

You nodded fast. He motioned for you to get out of the car.

The drive back to your place was silent. You contemplated asking him how he felt about his daughter dating one of the Cullens to see if he’d spill anything; but there was nothing left to dig for. Jasper didn’t have to say the word, and neither did you, for your discovery to become clear on both ends. You tried to steady your breathing as the police car stopped by the curb outside your house. Your own car pulled into the driveway as the other officer locked the door behind him and crossed his arms.

Your legs shook as you exited the police car, the other officer handed you your keys. “Go inside, get some rest,” Chief Swan said as you looked back at him. “We’ll have to contact a parent or guardian, so I’ll stop by later tonight when they’re home. You’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Y-Yeah, thanks.”

Chief Swan and the other officer watched you enter your front door before they drove away.

You scurried to your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed with your backpack still on. Hot tears burned your cheeks as they dripped down to your chin; your snotty nose forcing you to breathe through your mouth. It was dark by the time you had calmed. You slid your backpack from your shoulders and kicked it against your pillows. Wiping your face with shaking hands, you pressed your nose to the glass window and peered out. No vampires waiting to kill me.

Temporary relief washed through you. You were safe now, but what about tomorrow, and the next day? What about after that? You walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. The cool liquid soothed your raw throat.

The Cullens couldn’t let you go on knowing what they truly were. It wasn’t as though you would tell anybody—who would even believe you? Even now, with all the evidence you had collected and seen, you struggled to accept it, yourself. A sick laugh shook your core as you imagined storming into Chief Swan’s office at the station with theories about vampires dating his daughter. He, and everyone else in town would call you crazy. Even telling one person what you thought had the potential to ruin your life.

Your teeth ached from how hard you had been clenching your jaw earlier, and your chest felt so tight that it hurt to breathe. You finished your water and washed out the glass. It wasn’t that late yet, but after the events of the day all you wanted to do was curl up under your blankets and try to sleep.

Thump.

The sound came from your bedroom. You crept against the wall, keeping close to the shadows. What if they want to kill me right now?

You exhaled roughly. They couldn’t kill you. Forks was a small town; people would notice if you were missing. It wasn’t something that would slide under the radar… Then you froze solid. All the supposed animal attacks of the past year flashed through your mind, one by one. Wasn’t there a rumour going around about the bodies being drained of blood?

You cracked open your bedroom door, and goosebumps dispersed across your skin. The air in your room was colder than the rest of the house, and you shivered. Your eyes darted around in search for someone, but your bedroom was empty. You sighed in relief as you noticed the sound had come from your backpack falling off your bed. You walked over and picked it back up, rummaging through it for your notebook. A frown forced its way onto your face. You swore you hadn’t taken it out, yet.

Pouring the backpack’s contents onto your bed, you scattered text books and pens to the side. Nothing. You searched beneath your bed, in the space between your dresser and your wall, and across every surface in the room. Drawers were pulled and piles of clothes were frantically scattered as the walls closed in on you. If you’d lost this notebook with everything in it…

A frigid gust of air froze your back before you turned around. Your notebook was missing; and the window you knew for certain had been closed before you left was now wide open.

Tears pricked at your eyes again as you spun around, stifling a scream. Jasper Hale now stood five steps away from you, his impossible eyes burning with intensity.

*

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oi-itsemily @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @aw0kenangel @jelly-fishy-babie @kawaiikpoplover268 @awkwardnesshabitat @salsameter @dillybuggg @awesomebooklover17 @badgirlsdeaddreams @raindancer2004 @camillapad @champagnejoker  

[chloroformthelittleb4stard]

Family Relations - Part 4

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Blood, gore, like a lot of fucking gore, swearing, body horror?

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I hope it's worth it. This is a long chapter but because the first part is short I put a time skip in the middle of it, that's what the = means. P.S - Happy mother's day!

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You'd convinced him to stay with you for the night because of what you were absolutely sure Allison and Scott's "after-pack-meeting" activities would include. It wasn't hard, as soon as you mentioned the prospect of Stiles' precious sleep being interrupted by their shenanigans he was on board with staying at yours. Your dorm had two beds, you'd been lucky and not gotten a roommate, a blessing and a curse really. You'd laid the sheets out and gotten your extra pillow, all ready for Stiles to get to sleep. The only problem was, Stiles wasn't particularly interested in sleep yet. You'd had a long day, mostly it was just that bout of magical fighting that wore you out but still, you were tired, and Stiles simply didn't want to be in silence.

"So, Y/n..." You'd been listening to the sound of Stiles fidget like mad, and you were wondering when he was going to snap and finally talk to you.

"Yes." Your tone was smooth and song-like. Despite needing sleep desperately you wanted to talk to Stiles, he was fun to talk to. You'd always been kind of a loner, it was easier to stay hidden that way, but you didn't need to hide with Stiles and it felt fucking amazing.

"What's D.C like?" He didn't look at you when he asked, staring straight up at the ceiling, but you were happy to stare at him, studying the moles on his cheek and the way his hair laid against the pillow.

"It's, interesting." He snorted, turning to you as you whipped your head away so you didn't get caught staring.

"Care to elaborate on that?" He had a dopey smile on his face, looking at your side profile like his life depended on it while he waited for you to respond. You felt his gaze burning your skin, it was a burn you could get used to.

"I don't know what you want me to say. Traffic's a bitch if you live in D.C, that's for sure. It took me half a hour to go eight miles from my house to school." He sucked in a breath at the statement, like simply hearing about traffic that bad was physically paining him.

"Good thing is if you live in the city you don't really need a car. My mom didn't have a car, neither did any of my babysitters, so we took the metro and the subway everywhere." He hummed, like the thought of the subway actually pleased him.

"I'm going to be in the city, that's for sure. FBI headquarters is on Pennsylvania ave." His muttering made you giggle, surprised that he knew so much about the landscape.

"You've been there before?" Your smile was wide from laughter and you didn't even care if you looked like an idiot, you were having fun.

"Yeah, once. I looked at going to George Washington so when I toured we stopped by. It's a really ugly building by the way, they should fix that." He was quirking a smile as well, glancing between you and the ceiling to try and look discreet.

"Yeah they should." You were trying to be quiet for the sake of your dorm mates but you were having trouble, Stiles was funny and it felt so good to laugh. You hadn't laughed like this in years, always too stressed to find anything amusing.

"So, what's is like rooming with Scott?" He made a vague hum of mediocrity, shrugging and leaving it at that.

"Care to elaborate on that?" You giggled using his words against him.

"It's good, we've been like brothers since we were little kids so it's really not that big of a difference. We spent a lot of time together at my house because my dad was gone a lot so living with him is kinda familiar." You felt a pang of sympathy when he said his dad was away, you thought back to your dad and how absent he'd been. The memories cut off almost as suddenly as they'd started.

"What about your mom?" He took a deep breath, he had a slight frown on his face and you knew immediately that you'd hit a nerve.

"She died, when I was a kid. She had a type of dementia and it, killed her." He was fully frowning now, and he was no longer fully with you, his eyes had glazed over and he was staring right through you. He shook his head and came back, frown gone and a small smile took its place.

"I'm sorry, both for what happened and that I brought it up."

"It's ok, it's been a long time and it brought me and my dad really close so it wasn't all bad." His silver lining was slim, slimmer than was arguably debatable to even count as a silver lining, but you didn't argue. He'd shared enough of his past with you, and you felt honored by the confession even if you did accidentally cause it to happen by asking. The fact that he shared something with you meant a lot.

"My mom died too, she was hit by a car when I was 13 and she died in surgery." The air was tense, but Stiles' expression and morphed from fake stability to real sympathy as your eyes locked and you tried to comfort each other without words. You fell asleep shortly after that, Stiles had stayed quiet for more than five minutes and that was all it took for sleep to wave its wand and take you under it's control.

==

Screams woke you up, screams from within your dorm. They woke Stiles up too and you both sprung to get re-dressed properly, rushing out the door as soon as you'd slipped your shoes on. The screaming was coming from down the hall and you already had a sinking feeling what had happened.

It wasn't uncommon for your fellow dorm dwellers to leave their doors open, it helped circulate cool air in the desert that was California. Being born and raised in D.C left you significantly more paranoid than most of them however, and so you decided you'd rather just suffer the heat than the possibility of getting robbed blind. You'd told some people in the common room at the beginning of the year about your fear and they'd all but laughed at you, saying that nothing like that happened here. You'd never wanted to have been so wrong in your life.

One door was already wide open, and blood was smeared on several other doors, also open. It seemed that the killer had gone down the hall, checking who decided it was too hot to save their lives. The first body was in the doorway of the room three doors up from yours. It was sprawled out on the floor and you and Stiles nodded, agreeing not to go into the room considering the carpet was currently soaking up the victim's blood. It seemed there were plenty of others anyways.

Room after room, one slaughtered college student after another left you feeling ill beyond belief. You didn't need to be told what had happened, you already knew. You had never actually had the chance to see what happened when the killer was finished with their dirty work, what they did to the people they used as instruments of mass murder. Sadly it seems you didn't have to go searching to find out. At the end of the hall was another body, this time with a knife in its hand, most likely from the kitchen in the common room. Its throat was cut, much like all the other victims.

The screaming had long stopped, you assumed it came from one of the other residents who peeked out into the hallway and saw what looked like a scene from an upcoming Scream 5. Stiles was bent over the body, examining what you assumed was its deadness.

"Whatcha looking at?" He gave you a vague noise of acknowledgment before standing up and looking at you with a face slightly paler than it was before he bent down.

"I think you should see this Y/n." You squatted down next to the corpse, examining its overall lack of life and raising an inquisitive eyebrow up at Stiles.

"Look in her throat, through the cut." You'd really planned not to come this close to a corpse in your life. What's that saying? Make a plan and the universe laughs.

The throat was indeed, mostly just bloody and disgusting, but also intriguing. The windpipe and both carotid arteries were slashed straight through, a feat that was essentially impossible to do for the normal non-possessed human. In the back of the windpipe, which you could just barely see through the cut, there was a small mark. You dug your phone out of your back pocket, almost dropping it with how much your hands were shaking, and turned your flashlight on to it's brightest setting so you could see the mark clearly.

It was a small symbol, lines and swirls within a small circle that struck you as soon as you saw it. With a soft thud your ass met the ground as your precarious balancing act failed and you fell from your squatting position.

"Are you ok?" Stiles' voice was lost as your brain went into panic mode, the new found information stirring up a whirlwind of anxiety.

"We need to get out of here. Like, right now." Scrambling up from the blood soaked floor you made your way back to your dorm room, dragging a confused Stiles behind you asking a million and one questions.

Without answering any of them you grabbed your nearest backpack and started destroying your dorm room in an attempt to gather all of your most important belongings, a mix of underwear, clothes, and books thrown into your worn backpack.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me or do I get an explanation for why we need to leave your dorm room? Y'know other than the murdered college students..."  Stiles had passed the stage of being thoroughly confused by you, that ship sailed when you fought off the vine that attacked you both. Now however, he was fed up with not having answers to the predicament you now found yourselves in.

"Can I explain it to you in the car? We need to leave ASAP."

"The car has a name, it's Roscoe." You rolled your eyes, of course he named his car, and of course now is the best possible moment to tell you.

"Less talking more walking please."

"Sorry." The keys jingled as he grabbed them and yours, tossing your purple keychain to you so you could lock up. You took the stairs two at a time, almost tripping over Stiles in your haste to get out of the building.

The car seats were cold when you got in but you couldn't be more awake than you already were, adrenaline and fear coursing through your blood, the symbol seemingly burned into the back of your eyelids, haunting you whenever you so much as blinked. Stiles booked it out of the parking lot, Roscoe's tires making an awful screeching noise as he turned while reversing, a move that would have scared you had there not been the max amount of fear already happening.

"So, explanation." He raised an expectant eyebrow at you, biting his tongue to let you answer before he spiraled into asking questions without enough time for you to answer them.

"Uh, do werewolves have symbols for different concepts, like danger and stuff?"

"Y-yeah they do, there's one for revenge it's a spiral. Why?" A spiral, of course the supernatural weren't creative when it came to symbol differences.

"Ok well witches do, it's called the witches' alphabet, it's a few symbols they mean stuff, the one we just saw in the corpse was the symbol for revenge. It's used to channel the chosen energy into whatever magic you cast." Your voice was shaking, the lack of oxygen in your system making you feel light headed, or maybe that was the endorphins, who knows.

"Ok, so what does that mean?" Stiles was shaking as well, not liking the sound of any more revenge business. He had to deal with this once before, he didn't want a repeat supernatural problem.

"It means that whoever cast the spell is one, vengeful, two, meeting the victims beforehand to get the symbol on them. This is bad, like, really bad." You had to actively sit on your hands to stop their fidgeting, the nervous energy bubbling inside your body like a volcano.

"Just what we need, a witch who wants vengeance. Was a normal evil witch not enough?!" Stiles' comment made you chuckle, the breathy act brought a twitch of a smile to his face, your happiness spreading to him in the midst of your crisis.

"Apparently not. Where are you going, the dorms are the opposite way."

"I don't know, I didn't want to take you back to Scott until I knew what was going on so I kind of just started driving around." Had you not been stressed beyond belief at the moment you would have been endeared by Stiles' care for his friend and roommate, but at the moment it was just irritating.

"You just drove us in the middle of the night down a street you have no idea where it leads? Really Stiles?! Take us to Scott, now." You were fuming but upon seeing the dejected look in Stiles' eyes at your harsh tone you were reminded as to how hard this entire situation must be for a normal human, werewolf pack member or not.

"Please. Could you please take us to Scott." Your manners had escaped you for a moment but with the regaining of your senses they came back.  A pang of guilt struck you at how mean you'd been to the brunette next to you. Reaching out for his hand which was resting on the stick-shift you hoped silently that he would accept your unspoken apology. He did accept, a blush rising to his cheeks at the skin-to-skin contact that you initiated and a smile creeping on his face.

Moments after your mutual flush and giddiness over the contact Stiles pulled up into the parking lot of his own dorm, the tar lit up just barely by a floodlight near the sidewalk. Unwinding his fingers from yours he was the first to get out of the car, you following shortly after, the cold air hitting your bare shoulders per your tank top which you just now realized was covered in blood.

Rushing to Stiles' side you wrapped your arms around your torso to try and cover the evidence of your dorm's activities, only to realize that your arms were the source of the problem. A mix of various people's blood was coating your arms, the red solution drying crusty on your skin. Thankfully it was the middle of the night, the darkness mostly covering your blood-stained everything.

Looking over at the mole-covered man next to you you took in the sight of him, surprisingly not covered entirely in blood. He had spots of it on his hoodie, only barely visible thanks to the floodlight, but he'd managed to stay clear of the mess, something you were currently jealous of. You wouldn't be able to take a shower until you were back in your own dorm and you were really dreading the idea of having to wash off both of your arms in the small dorm sinks.

Stiles opened the door for you and the heat influx from the building was a welcome change, the goosebumps immediately vacating your skin. You both headed up to his dorm in relative silence, trying not to wake his neighbors up. It was a harder feat than it should have been, given how often Stiles almost tripped on the single flight of stairs up to his shared room.

You could hear snoring coming from one of the beds, presumably Scott's, and the embarrassing situation you'd found your friend in made you momentarily forget your current predicament. In the darkness you could see two bodies in Scott's bed, the smaller one of which you assumed was Allison, tucked under her boyfriend's arm. They were sleeping so peacefully you almost felt bad to wake them, Stiles however, did not. With a loud enough greeting and the swift act of turning on all of the lights in their dorm, he woke his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend up with a startle.

"Stiles! They were sleeping!" You'd wanted to put up a semblance of good will with the woman you'd met less than 24 hours ago but in reality you were stifling a laugh, biting your tongue to keep from bursting out. The couple let out groans of protest at being woken up in the wee hours of the morning but got up eventually anyways, thankfully somewhat dressed after what you were still convinced their nightly activities consisted of.

"What the hell dude?" The were-wolf's voice was groggy from sleep and the rough scratch in his throat reminded you of Stiles' voice less than two hours ago when you were woken up by screaming neighbors.

"Sorry but you really can't be asleep right now, also yes that is blood on Y/n's, well everywhere, I will explain that in a minute. Allison could you help her clean up? Scott I need to talk to you." Nodding Allison took immediate heed to Stiles' request and looked carefully for a space to lead you that wasn't covered in blood before eventually deciding 'fuck it' and grabbing one of your slowly drying arms, washing the blood off of the area in the small sink.

There wasn't a lot of space in the dorm for a private conversation but you and Allison made small talk in an attempt to give the boys some facade of privacy.

"So, rough night I guess?" She let out a small chuckle at her own joke while you allowed a smile to creep onto your face at the problem you had earlier found yourself in.

"You could say that. Someone decided it'd be a good idea to murder a solid percentage of my floor mates so, y'know, the night could have gone better." She gasped at that, the light air of the conversation having gone as soon as you brought up the traumatic events that had occurred.

"Murder? Oh God. By 'a solid percentage' you mean how many people exactly?" Your mind flashed through the bodies you'd seen, counting at least six in the haze of the night.

"Six, maybe more. I don't know for sure, it was a lot. We found who did it though, kind of." You wished that you were dealing with a normal murder where finding who did the killing actually solved your problem. Sadly, that wasn't the case and the situation was getting more and more fraught in your mind the more you stressed about it, the images and circumstances pulling the strings in your mind so tightly they were beginning to fray.

"Are you ok?" Allison's eyes were kind and you noted in the back of your brain to thank Scott that he had such good taste in girlfriends.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not hurt or anything, just a little shaken up." She nodded silently before going into nurse-mode and scanning your now-clean left arm.

"No scratches, all of this blood seems to be someone else's. I think most of the blood is other people's but I need to wash off the other arm to be sure."

"Be my guest, I wasn't feeling the whole blood-sleeve look anyways." You shrugged and let out a small giggle at your own joke, Allison following suit as she lathered up the ruined washcloth for another round of scrubbing.

You were in the process of cleaning the blood from underneath your fingernails when Stiles and Scott crept up behind you, interrupting the light bonding that you had started with Allison.

"Ok, we need to get out of here and go back home, right now." Scott took on more of a dominant personality when in charge and it made you glad that someone knew what to do, even if you didn't. You'd already grabbed spare clothes from your dorm room so you and Allison waited by the door nervously while Stiles and Scott scrambled to gather their most important belongings.

"Where is home?" You knew where you were from and where your home was, but you doubted that everyone would be game for catching a flight at almost 4 a.m.

"Beacon Hills, it's where we all met. Stiles and Scott are from there, so is most of the pack, I moved there sophomore year. The pack started in Beacon Hills, the town is like a beacon for the supernatural, it's probably the safest place to be because it's home territory, Scott's pack has been protecting it for years now."

"So Scott's the alpha?" It made sense given his natural leadership abilities and his friendliness, but it was still a little odd to see your friend as the strongest were-wolf out of the entire group you saw the other night.

"He's a true alpha too." You'd heard of true alphas, mostly by myth however, they were rare but the more you thought back on Scott's character the more it made sense. He was easily one of the most loyal people you'd met, and he was brave as well, fighting for people he didn't even know, or people he didn't know well. He was willing to risk his life to save the barista on the day of that attack, even willing to let her see him shift, it was only logical that he was a true alpha.

Your conversation was interrupted as it took all of five minutes for the two best friends to pack their things, swing the backpacks stuffed full of items over their shoulders before they led the way back down to the Jeep that was parked out front.

The ride was quiet and tense, Stiles in the front with you and Scott in the back with Allison, explaining the specifics of the situation that you had purposely left out because you didn't know how to explain it without making a joke out of it. Dark humor was quickly becoming your most solid coping mechanism for morbidity.

Scott went to protect Allison as she ran up to her dorm to grab her things as well, insisting that she tell her roommate she was going home so no one would file a missing person's report and make the entire situation more complicated.

She came back downstairs quickly, Scott in tow looking noticeably dazed as he held on to his girlfriend's hand when she plopped in the back of Stiles' Jeep. You let out a snort at what had most likely been a 'our lives are in danger' make out and let them have their secrecy as Stiles started up for what was the drive to Beacon Hills.

[ellewritesathing]

(Un)Requited  -  I.L.  I

Summary: Isaac Lahey had gone through many twists and turns in his life, but none of them compared to the whiplash he got when you asked him to tutor you. With a few weeks until the end of the semester and the big dance coming up, he’s hoping to figure out a way to ask you to go with him before it’s too late.

Masterlist Part 1 | Next

Word-count: 1.5k+

A/N: so i don’t have an uploud schedule for this series yet but i wanted to post something teen wolf related since i was a flake and didn’t have the next part of So Close written. happy reading!!

Isaac Lahey had known you his whole life. The two of you had been going to the same schools and sharing at least one class a day almost as long as he could remember. Plus, until they split high school, your older brother and Camden were best friends, which meant Isaac got to spend plenty of time with you outside of school as a byproduct. 

Until his dad's drinking got worse and it started being too difficult for Isaac to spend time with you without his dad somehow messing it up. All those cancelled and postponed plans added up and soon enough it was high school and the two of you had just drifted apart. 

So, understandably, one of the last things he ever expected after a shitty day of Coach yelling at him and getting detention for something that wasn't entirely his fault was for you to tap him on his shoulder while Isaac dug through his locker to find the one assignment that he knew he actually finished on time. 

“Uh, hi,” you smiled awkwardly when he turned around. God, he must’ve looked like a wreck if he was making you this nervous to speak to him. “I’m not really sure how to say this.” 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, straightening up and trying to seem a little more put together. If he could come across as a little less unhinged while he was at it, that would have been great but Isaac wasn't going to hold his breath.

“Kinda?” You looked down at your shoes and laughed before looking back up at him and pushing some hair out of your face in the process. “I hear that you’re acing Algebra II and, coincidentally, I happen to be failing Algebra II. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind tutoring me sometime?” 

“You want me to tutor you?” Isaac asked. If you came to him because you thought he was smart, that question might have blown any chance he had, so he added - as quickly as he could - “Uh, yeah, I could tutor you.” 

“Isaac, you’re a lifesaver,” you said, visibly relaxing and sending him another smile. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” he said. After a beat of awkward silence where he was sure you could hear his heart beating in his chest, he asked, “So should I, um, give you my number or something?” 

“Oh, yeah, that would probably help,” you laughed. “Got a pen?”

Swinging his backpack around to his front and trying not to take you stepping backwards personally, Isaac fumbled for a pen. He handed it to you with an awkward smile, and you reached for it with one hand while taking his in your other. You clicked the pen and leaned over to write your number on the back of his hand while Isaac tried not to have a panic attack. 

“There,” you said with a smile as you handed him back the pen and, sadly, let go of his hand. “Now you won’t lose it.” 

“Great,” Isaac smiled. It felt like he was holding eye contact for too long, so he looked away in an effort to concentrate on replacing his pen inside his backpack. “So I’ll text you later?”

“Better yet, you can call me,” you said. And he must have looked like an idiot when you did, because the next thing he knew you were laughing. Except it wasn’t malicious. It was like you were sharing a private joke. 

“Yeah, uh- I can do that,” Isaac said, trying to play it cool. As if that ship hadn't already sailed ...

“Then it’s a date.” 

You shot him one last smile before turning on your heel and walking away, and it took him a minute to catch his breath again. Not even a five-minute conversation with you and his childhood crush was back in full-force. 

“Any reason why you look like someone just kicked your favorite puppy?” Erica asked. 

Isaac wasn’t sure when she showed up or how long he'd been staring down an empty hallway, but - if he was honest - he didn’t really care. Looking over at her with an incredulous smile, he said, "I think I’m a math tutor now.” 

“Oh yikes. At least you're pretty good with that stuff,” Erica said with a slight nod at the end. “Anyway, are we still on for lunch or are you now fully booked, Mr. Tutor?" 

“You know, I think I can pencil you in,” Isaac said. 

“Gee, how sweet of you.”

---

Isaac couldn’t prove that you were actively trying to kill him, but the anxiety you gave him about calling you was damn near certain proof. The day had come and gone, with all its teenage angst and supernatural drama, and now he was all by himself in the loft. Alone. Without any super-hearing friends to eavesdrop. On paper, it was the perfect time to call and probably his only clear shot at trying.

But surely he should wait more than a day? That’s what they do in the movies, right? Play hard to get. But Isaac wasn’t hard to get. All you had to do was ask nicely and he’d probably do anything you said. Hell, you didn’t even have to ask nicely. You could step on him and he'd still-

But you did ask him nicely. To call you, he meant. You said he should call you. And your number was already starting to fade … Isaac took a breath, stopped pacing, and picked up his phone. He dialed the smudged number on his hand and waited for an answer. 

“Hey, Y/N?” His voice came out too loud and too forceful when the dial tones stopped. Or did he seem excited? Isaac couldn’t tell, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. “It’s Isaac.” 

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to call,” you said. Good thing he didn’t wait a few days, then. “Hey, I’m kidding. Don’t worry about it.” 

“How do you know if I’m worrying about it?” Isaac asked. 

“How do you know if I’m really kidding?” you asked. Your voice sounded teasing enough but Isaac wasn’t sure he was in the clear until he heard you laugh on the other end of the line. 

Isaac could almost imagine you sitting on your bed, twirling one of those old phone cords around your finger as you spoke. But that couldn’t happen. (For a number of reasons but mainly because this wasn’t the 90s and you weren’t in love with him.)

“Hey, you still there?” you asked in a quieter voice. 

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac said quickly as he started pacing again. “Sorry, just got distracted.” 

“Happens to the best of us,” you said with an imaginary shrug.

“So I thought about the tutoring thing,” Isaac said slowly, not knowing what else to say. “And I’m free on Tuesdays, if you want. I’ve got a free period that we could use.” 

“Yeah, that would be great!” He could hear you smiling as you spoke. 

“Yeah?” Why was he double-checking? This was what he wanted. “It’s fifth period.” 

“And I’ve got Algebra II in sixth,” you said. “Works perfect for me.” 

“That’s great.” 

Isaac felt the corners of his mouth turn up and his heart beat faster. Thank God the others weren’t here to hear that. 

“Yeah, uh-” you took a breath and Isaac's heart stopped. “This is the awkward part: How much do you want me to pay you?” 

His mouth turned down again. “Pay me?” 

“You know, for your time. There’s gotta be better things to do than tutor me, right?” 

Isaac wanted to tell you that no, there was absolutely nothing better to do during his Tuesday free period than spend it with you. But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “What if you helped me with something else?” 

“Well, what do you need?” There was a lilt to your voice. You were interested. The only problem was that Isaac had no idea what he needed your help with. 

“Uh …” He was stalling. If he didn’t say something soon, you’d think he was weird. “Well, the dance is coming up.” 

“Yeah?” 

“And I want to impress this girl.” 

“And you need me to …?” 

“Teach me how to impress her?” 

It sounded like a question, mostly because it was a question. Was it the right response? Isaac didn’t even know if you still took dance classes. You did when you were like seven, but everyone does stuff at seven that they don’t do at seventeen. 

“Oh,” you said. There was movement on your side that he could only hear because the line was so quiet. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

It worked? 

“Great!” He sounded too excited again. Shifting back to his normal voice, Isaac added, “Okay, so tutoring in exchange for life coaching?” 

“Sounds perfect.” You didn’t sound so playful anymore. Did he mess something up? Probably. “I guess I’ll see you at school then.” 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess.” 

“Bye.” Neither of you hung up. “And Isaac?” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s good to spend time with you again.” 

And then you hung up. 

It was official: You were definitely trying to kill him. But Isaac didn’t seem to mind.

Part 2

Tagged: @ietss​

[angelofrainfrogs]

And They Were Flatmates...

Fandoms: The Bartimaeus Trilogy (Modern College AU)

Description: Kitty is studying for midterms at a café when a familiar face asks to sit at her table. The boy turns out to be her flatmate’s brother, and their chance meeting leads to some interesting revelations and the beginning of a new friendship. 

Rating: K+

Genre: General/Humor

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736820

This story was written for @avaenox during the 2020 Bartimaeus Fic Exchange. Check out the collection here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bartimaeus_Exchange_2020

“Oh my god, will you shut up?!” Kitty hissed at her phone, glaring as notification after notification popped up in quick succession.

“I haven’t said anything yet, but message received,” a soft voice responded. Kitty jumped, startled, and noticed a boy standing next to her table, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Kitty’s mouth fell open in shock.

“…Bartimaeus?” she asked slowly, utterly confused. This boy looked nearly identical to the flatmate who was currently blowing up her phone, if a tad younger.

The boy laughed, a bright sound, and Kitty couldn’t help but a smile a little in response.

“No, not Bartimaeus, but I certainly know him,” the boy said. He gestured to the open seat across from Kitty and she nodded, quickly gathering up the plethora of books she’d scattered across the tabletop. The boy sat down and shrugged off his backpack, then placed his coffee on the table and held out his other hand to Kitty. “My name is Ptolemy.”

“Kitty,” she responded, shaking his hand. The name struck a chord, though she couldn’t immediately place where it came from. She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her own coffee before asking, “I’m assuming you and Bartimaeus are related?”

“Yes, he’s my older brother,” Ptolemy replied, gesturing to himself with a laugh. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh!” Kitty exclaimed, slapping a palm to her forehead. “Oh my god, Ptolemy! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the name, wow… Nice to finally meet you!”

“I take it Bartimaeus has mentioned me, then?” Ptolemy asked, and Kitty rolled her eyes exasperatedly, though there was no real malice in the action.

“Only all the time.”

Ptolemy grimaced, then took a big swig of coffee before responding. “Yes, that’s sort of why I wanted to get a different roommate this year… I do love him, but he definitely takes the overprotective big brother roll to the extreme.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Kitty said, and Ptolemy’s expression shifted to one of mild concern.

“I hope he’s not causing you too much trouble…”

“Oh no, no!” Kitty shook her head, needing to wipe that expression off Ptolemy’s face immediately. It looked wrong for him to be upset. “I mean, I’ll admit he can be a handful, but he’s alright 80% of the time.”

“Wow, that’s much better than I was expecting.” Ptolemy nodded somberly, then met Kitty’s gaze and they both broke out into a round of giggles.

“I’m sorry if I distracted you, by the way,” Ptolemy said once they’d settled down. He gestured to Kitty’s collection of textbooks and notes. “I had actually meant to talk to you, but only to ask if I could sit here and do my own work; this is the only available spot in the café.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kitty responded, waving away his apology. “I was losing focus anyway; I’ve been trying to write this paper for hours and I don’t know how much more my mind can handle today.”

“Ah, yes—midterms.” Ptolemy dug around in his backpack and brought out a humongous textbook. It was obviously quite heavy, because he barely got it over the table before it slipped from his grip and landed just shy of his coffee cup with a loud bang! In unison, all patrons in the shop turned towards their corner as Ptolemy’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“Oops,” he murmured, then gestured to the offending book. “This ethics book has been the bane of my existence for the past two weeks.”

“I can imagine,” Kitty responded, grimacing at the plethora of colored tabs sticking out of the pages.

“Yes… although, I have to say I’m not nearly as stressed as my flatmate.” A haunted look flashed across Ptolemy’s face so quickly Kitty thought she imagined it. “He’s been absolutely losing his mind, poor thing… that’s why I figured I’d get out and try to do some work at the nearby café.”

“To escape for a bit?” Kitty took a sip of coffee, glancing at him knowingly over the rim of her cup, and Ptolemy tried to suppress another pained grimace.

“To give him some space,” he corrected. Then, after a pause, he added, “And yes, to give myself a few hours of sanity as well.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“Well, by this point I’m used to the way he acts when he gets overly stressed—which, unfortunately, is quite often.” Ptolemy paused, musing on some inner thoughts. “I do wish I could help him more, but I’ve realized the best solution when he gets this way is to let him work things out in his own time. An unfortunate downside is that he’s quite restless and tends to wander around the flat muttering to himself, not to mention his tendency to leave things scattered around at random, so… neither of us gets any peace and quiet during this stage.”

“I understand.” Kitty nodded knowingly. “I rarely get any time to myself with Bartimaeus—I mean he’s constantly trying to hang out, which is fine usually, but when midterms come up…” She shook her head exhaustedly. “And then, sometimes when he really wants attention—” Suddenly, Kitty realized that she’d been dangerously close to insulting the brother of the boy sitting across from her. She met Ptolemy’s gaze, ready to apologize, but found him chuckling and nodding his head.

“Trust me, no one understands your predicament better than myself,” he responded, and his grin showed no ill-will. “I’m sorry that you’re now the brunt of his focus.”

“No, no,” Kitty waved away the apology. “Like I said, most of the time it’s fine, but I suppose certain times are just more stressful for everyone.”

“And everyone shows their stress in different ways.”

Kitty nodded, and a companionable silence descended over the table. Soon, the pair had their respective textbooks open and were pouring over notes from the past semester of classes. They both became so wrapped up in their studying that a sharp ding! from Ptolemy’s backpack nearly made them jump out of their seats. He gave an apologetic grimace and fished around the backpack for his phone.

“Ah,” he said, a corner of his mouth lifting as he read the message he’d just received. “It seems my flatmate has calmed down and wants to know if I’d like any company.”

“Well, feel free to go if you—wait.” Kitty pulled her phone out of her pocket, long since put on silent mode, and scrolled through the barrage of texts that had piled up during her short time with Ptolemy. She raised an eyebrow at said boy, who looked inquisitively back at her. “Has Bartimaeus met your flatmate yet?”

“No, we just recently moved in together; why?”

Kitty flashed a mischievous smile. “What do you say we give your brother a new friend to entertain?”

Ptolemy laughed, his entire face lighting up. “I’d say that’s a very good idea.”

***

“Hmm…not very intimidating, is he?” Bartimaeus asked, circling the pale boy as if he were a lion trying to decide if this particular prey was worth the effort. “Looks like a gust of wind might knock the poor sod over…”

“Excuse me,” the boy snapped, his unexpectedly stern voice overtaking Ptolemy’s groan of embarrassment. “I can hear everything you’re saying, in case you didn’t realize.”

“Oh no, I realized.” Bartimaeus flashed a grin and ruffled the boy’s hair, earning a snarl of annoyance. “Aw, don’t get so bent out of shape, Natty boy.”

“That is not my name!” Nathaniel hissed, swatting Bartimaeus’ hand away.

“…Well, this isn’t quite the way I expected things to go,” Kitty commented as the pair started bickering in earnest. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ptolemy running a stressed hand through his hair.

“It was one of the two ways I thought this would turn out, actually,” he admitted guiltily. “I figured my brother would either take Nathaniel under his wing, or they’d end up pretty much like this.”

Kitty pondered this in silence for a few seconds, before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Okay, yeah… Honestly, once you told me that Nathaniel Underwood was your roommate, my hopes of a smooth meeting went down the drain, too. That kid’s had a stick up his ass since Year 9.”

“You’ve known him that long?” Ptolemy asked, surprised.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Kitty smirked. “We didn’t interact that much at first, although I could tell he’s always had it out for me for some reason. One day after school he cornered me outside and started lecturing me on how rude I was for not paying attention during class… He was getting really aggressive about it, so I punched him in the face.”

“…Oh,” Ptolemy said, eyes shifting between Kitty and Nathaniel a few times before he nodded solemnly. “Yes, I can definitely see that happening.”

“What, him trying to boss people around, or me knocking a scrawny little kid upside the jaw?” Kitty raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Both,” Ptolemy responded, and the duo broke into a laugh.

“Hey!” Nathaniel exclaimed, his voice cutting through the amiable atmosphere like a knife.  “Ptolemy, can you please do something about this brother of yours? I don’t think I can stand another minute of him harassing me.”

“Listen, Nat, giving you fashion advice about your atrocious style isn’t ‘harassment,’ it’s helpful,” Bartimaeus said, to which Nathaniel shot him a deadly glare. Bartimaeus looked at Kitty imploringly. “Kitty, can you do something about your obnoxious childhood friend?”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Kitty and Nathaniel said in unison, a bit too quickly. Ptolemy and Bartimaeus shared a disbelieving look.

“Ah, I see… old flames, then,” Bartimaeus said, nodding sagely.

“Oh god no!” Kitty exclaimed as Nathaniel sputtered unintelligibly.

“It’s okay, Nat, you can admit it.” Bartimaeus wrapped an amiable arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders, which the boy promptly shoved off.

“There’s nothing to admit!” he practically screeched, and just like that the pair were bickering even more heatedly than before.

“I’m glad we decided to host the meetup at my flat instead of the coffee shop,” Ptolemy murmured, pointedly ignoring the blush still covering Kitty’s face. “We’d have definitely been kicked out by now.”

“Oh, for sure,” she said with a laugh, grateful at the change of subject. She nodded her head to Bartimaeus and Nathaniel. “Think they’ll ever get along?”

“Only time will tell.” Ptolemy glanced sideways and met Kitty’s gaze, flashing a bright smile. “Well, at least we can hold a normal conversation—that’s got to count for something, right?”

“Definitely.” Kitty’s smile mirrored his and she held out a hand. “To new friendships?”

“To new friendships,” Ptolemy agreed, grasping her hand firmly. He let out a chuckle and gestured with his free hand to the still-warring pair across the room. “And to whatever that turns out to be.”

Kitty rolled her eyes in agreement, a smile still tugging at the edges of her lips. It seemed as though her life was about to get very interesting.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.1 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge's broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch had always liked taking a walk on the science side. Even when he was a kid, he’d loved it, digging soggy books out of the dump that no one else wanted about exotic things like physics. Yeah, sure, he’d taken a detour for a little while in his life, spent some time as a sentry in Snowdin, but here in the Aboveground, he’d gotten back into it, reluctantly at first and then with the same enthusiasm he’d had in his striped shirt days. He loved science and experiments, coming up with theories and either proving them or setting them in the ‘learning experience’ pile.

Confirming a hypothesis, that was what he did, but even he had to admit, this was one he could've lived without. But hey, now he had empirical evidence to explain why he was never double-dog-dare ever taking Edge on the bus again.

It hadn't even been his idea. Everyone with a driver’s license was busy today so there was no one to cadge a ride from. Didn’t help that Edge wasn’t exactly great on the passenger side anyway, he took backseat driving to new and historic levels. Even Andy started getting a weird tic in his cheek the last time he gave them a lift and in the interest of not giving his best bud a stroke, when Edge suggested they take the bus to his doc’s appointment, Stretch went along with it.

Yeeeah. He’d made worse choices in his life, but this was hovering right at entering the top ten.

To begin with, it seemed like that when he made the suggestion, Edge didn’t fully realize it would require sitting on a grubby seat inhabited daily by dozens of other butts, something Stretch’s personal neat freak was not keen on exposing to his own pelvis.

But there was no way he could stand with the cast holding his leg together, that was kinda the reason they weren’t taking Edge’s car. Probably the only thing that could make the seats actually tolerable for Edge was a good power washing, but Stretch did the best he could with the baggie of antiseptic wipes he’d stashed in his backpack. That at least got Edge's nonexistent butt in the chair, even if he sat so close to the (heh) edge that one hairpin turn was gonna send him rolling across the floor.

If the universe were kinder, that probably would have been the worst of it. Stretch sat right next to his baby and held his hand for moral support, the bus route took them right past the hospital so there wasn't even a changeover. All they needed to do was sit quietly and get off at their stop. Stretch did it all the time, all by his lonesome. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Only, fate seemed to be in the mood for a different kind of citrus, choosing the path of difficult difficult lemon bullshit because they’d only been sitting for about five minutes when an older Human lady got on. She shuffled on over to sit right next to Edge even though there were a dozen other seats available on the bus and before the bus even pulled away, she’d started talking to him. And talked. And never actually stopped talking.

Blue once told Stretch, fondly and with only a sprinkle of salt, that when Stretch got going, he talked like he was trying to qualify for the chatter Olympics. This lady not only qualified, she’d swept away the competition and gone home with the gold.

To be fair, it was miles better than her screaming and tossing a shoe at their heads, sure, but Edge usually took a while to warm up to people as it was, especially to Humans. Considering that some Humans took one look at Edge coming their way and crossed the street? That kind didn't look at him as a person with feelings who could see them, thanks, even if Edge would never admit how much that fucking hurt, and sorry, did he say Humans? He meant assholes. Assholes saw Edge as a threat before they ever even met him.

Betty White over there wasn't at all put off by the sharp teeth and the crimson eye lights. She'd found a captive audience and watching his baby struggling to be polite while she chatted about her newest grandbaby, complete with actual photos scrounged out of her handbag, was setting off the cringe meter, big time.

About ten endless minutes in she’d shown no sign of losing steam. Stretch did make an attempt to help. His thinking was that if he moved to sit on Grandma Moses's other side, maybe she'd chat with him instead. He was pretty good at oohing and ahhing over pics of the potato babies. But the second he tried to stand, Edge's hold on his hand tightened like an iron claw, hard enough for him to feel the pinch of his sharpened fingertips even through gloves. Whether he was afraid Stretch was going to abandon him to his fate or didn't like the idea of him sitting next to unknown Humans, Stretch wasn't sure, but he wasn’t gonna argue with The Claw.

He sat back down and leaned against Edge instead, like maybe he could osmosis some soothing vibes his way. Never worked before, but hey, it was worth a shot.

Whistler’s Mom paused. “are you two boys…together?”

“Yes,” Edge said shortly. Stretch struggled not to wince as the grip on his hand dug in. The last thing he wanted was another bus fiasco. For starters, Andy wasn’t here this time to play white knight and he seriously doubted the Embassy would appreciate dealing with an all new public relations nightmare involving Edge getting into a street fight with an octogenarian.

So, Stretch put on his very best hundred-watt smile and leaned around his husband to shine it towards the old lady. “yes, ma’am, we’re married.”

He expected maybe a little outrage; he and Edge pretty obviously identified as male and Humans could be, ah, tetchy about that. Enough offense and maybe she’d go move to sit up at the front of the bus. But Queen Elizabeth over there just beamed happily, clasping her hands to her chest. “Isn’t that nice! You two make a lovely couple, aren’t your rings beautiful! Have you been together long? Ah, you’re newlyweds, aren’t you, I can tell!”

Next to him, the tension was slowly draining out of Edge, his kung fu grip loosening. Stretch lowered the wattage on his smile to merely friendly levels and asked, “how’s that, ma’am?”

She gave them a watery-eyed wink, “To begin with, you’re still holding hands.”

That was about all it took to tenderize Edge’s steak. He still didn’t chat, but he didn’t look like he was about to throw himself out of a window at any given moment, piece by piece if necessary, and that was a hell of an improvement.

By the time they’d gotten off the bus, Beatrice had shared a recipe for strudel that Edge promised to try and Stretch somehow ended up wearing a new knitted hat topped with a bright pink pompom, because in the words of the immortal Beatrice, he was too skinny and he might catch cold in the bright spring weather. He had a feeling if she could’ve smuggled him home in her handbag, he’d be holed up right now in a cozy kitchen mainlining soup made with fresh noodles and no amount of protesting that skeletons kinda couldn’t get fattened up would save him.

“see, babe,” Stretch teased, handing over his crutches once Edge made it down the stairs back to earth. He waited until the bus was out of sight, taking Beatrice with it, before taking off the hat and adding it to his backpack stash. “take the bus a few more times and pretty soon you’ll have as many friends as i do.”

“I’d rather strip naked and run a marathon through a pack of hungry dogs,” Edge told him feelingly.

Yeah, okay, that one made Stretch burst out into unexpected laughter. He was still chuckling as they headed into the doctor’s office. “i swear, babe, no one ever believes me when i tell them you’re hilarious.”

“That wasn’t humor,” Edge said dryly as he crutched along, “that was a promise.”

The appointment itself was the usual doctor bullshit, starting with an endless fifteen-minute wait before the doc even came in the room, long enough for Stretch to inspect every drawer and jar in the room before Edge told him to sit down. Which, yeah, okay, it was his appointment and fidgeting around the room probably wasn’t doing much for any anxiety Edge had.

Not that he looked like he had much and Stretch honestly envied Edge’s ability to seem coolly serene in any given situation. It was less appealing that the skill made it impossible for Stretch to know if he was genuinely relaxed or hiding it from the world, but eh, that much he was used to. He could read his baby like a well-loved book, but damn if the cover wasn’t inscrutable some days.

By the time the doc came in, Stretch was ready to vibrate out of his damn shoes, but he kept his trap shut and let the doctor do his job. Highly trained professionals, he’d told Edge, who knew what they were doing, and Stretch could do healing magic but that was his limit. The fine tuning was up to the guys with the stethoscopes.

So he played on his phone, messed around on twitter, kept one suspicious auditory canal tuned in to make sure that the doc didn’t have any strong opinions on how Edge was healing up. In less time than they’d spent waiting, the cast was removed, cut right through the drawing of Undyne flexing, and the doc was checking the bones out, making positive little sounds as he poked and prodded.

That got his reluctant curiosity going and left him torn between getting a look at what he hadn’t yet seen or waiting a little longer for the scars to fade.

He hadn’t chosen a side by the time Edge decided for him, “It’s fine, love, have a look if you want.”

The doc obligingly stepped back and let him take a peek at what the cast was hiding. Even if the freshly healed breaks weren’t still chalky-rough, he would have been able to pick them out of a line up. He knew every scar on Edge’s bones, knew how they felt beneath his fingers, knew which ones were sensitive and which had little feeling to them at all.

Edge was right, they weren’t bad, all things considered. Tori must’ve poured on the healing because the scars weren’t much more than hairline fractures. A lot of hairline fractures, too many, and Stretch blinked hard, turning away to flump back into his chair. Way too many fucking scars, his leg must’ve been…it must’ve…

He probably wasn’t hiding his upset very well, his poker face wasn’t up to standards these days, because the doctor said, gently, “He’s healing very well. A few more weeks and he should be able to resume his normal routine.”

They both seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer from him, so Stretch slumped back into his chair and muttered, “that’s good.”

He pulled out his lighter, flicking it absently through his fingers, listening to the rhythmic clicking of metal against bone as the doc stepped up again.

Pretty quickly Edge was Velcro-ed into a sort of boot that went up to his knee and sternly told not to stand more than two hours at a time, ice it at night, yadda yadda, it was all on the instruction sheet. He went from crutches to a cane and they’d be sending him one of those knee scooters for when he went back to the Embassy. That was a photo opportunity waiting to happen.

The ride home was a lot less eventful. The only other person on the bus for most of the trip was a Human that Stretch only knew in passing and they were eating a sandwich so aggressively that Stretch was afraid to get too close, lest he get sucked into the chomping vacuum.

Edge didn’t talk and Stretch kept busy on his phone, ignoring the quiet of the bus around them. Stretch usually wore headphones when he rode the bus, he had about fifty different podcasts he listened to and Cabinet of Curiosities just released a new one today. He didn’t feel like listening right now though and if anyone told him an hour ago he’d be missing Beatrice’s chatter, he’d have told them to retune their Ouija board.

The only real transfer was from the bus proper to the New New Home shuttle and they were the only Monsters on it except for the driver.

“hey, angela, you know why you’re the best driver?” Stretch asked cheerfully when they got to the stop. He didn’t wait for her to answer. “it’s ‘cause you’re so good at telling people where to get off!”

Angela rolled her eye, “Sans told me that one last week.”

“of course he would,” Stretch sighed, “sans is never short for time when it comes to a joke.” That one got him a chuckle from Angela and a sigh from Edge as she shooed them out the doors. Before he could take so much as a step towards home, Edge had him by the arm, tugging him over to sit on the nearby bench.

“wha…you okay?” Stretch blurted. The anxiety that was slowly easing ramped it back up to high. As far as he saw, Edge was walking pretty well with his new gear, but maybe— “is it hurting, do you need to rest a minute? i can call the doc, hang on…”

Edge gently stopped him from scrambling for his phone, shaking his head. “I’m fine, love. I’m more concerned about whether you’re okay.”

It would’ve been easy to tell him yep, sure, 100%, doing great. Dig up another 100-watt smile out of his reserves in a lie that Edge wouldn’t believe. Instead, he slumped, leaning against Edge’s side and letting his skull drop on his shoulder. “can’t fool you, huh.”

“I don’t want you to fool me,” Edge told him. He reached up, his gloved fingers gentle against Stretch’s cheek bone, his jaw line. “I want to know when you’re upset. Even if I can’t really help, I at least want to know.”

Stretch sighed heavily. “i’m okay. no, really,” he insisted when Edge made a skeptical sound. “i’m just…i don’t like to see you hurt.”

Edge shifted and there was the light touch of a kiss being pressed to his skull. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t really like being hurt. I’ve been injured in the past, you know that, but this is my first experience at being off my feet for so long and I hate it,” Edge said, frankly. “I don’t like not being able to go through my normal routine, whether it’s my work at the Embassy or simply baking bread, I don’t like being—” he hesitated, then, softer, “vulnerable. I don’t like feeling as if I can’t keep you safe.”

The last was said at a mere whisper, a confession Stretch hadn’t expected, and he sat up, wrapping both arms around Edge and held him tight. They sat like that for a while, arms around each other with spring sunshine pouring down over them and Stretch loved him, so, so damn much.

He could hear someone walking up the street, probably heading to wait for the shuttle, and Stretch reluctantly drew back, pausing to press a light kiss against Edge’s cheek bone. “welp, you’re a couple steps further along in getting back on your feet, anyway. what’re you gonna do first?”

He was kinda expecting a shower. Edge never complained but it was hard not to notice that he didn’t enjoy wrapping up in plastic like last night’s leftovers. But Edge was packed with the unexpected today so Stretch was a little surprised when he said, “I’d like to work on my garden. Spring planting isn’t for a little while yet, but my perennials will be coming up and I need to clean out the winter detritus.”

Yeah, okay, that sort of made sense. May as well get as dirty as possible before hitting the suds. They made their way back to the house, a little slower than Stretch’s preferred pace but not by much. Stretch went in the house and aside from Edge taking him on a quick field trip outside for an informational lecture on the different flowers that were already starting to spring out of the ground, he left his honey to get to the gardening. And if he was keeping an eye on the clock to make sure Edge didn’t go over the two-hour mark, eh, Edge said from the start he was going to follow the doctor’s orders. Stretch was only helping him keep a promise.

It was closing in on an hour-fifty when the unexpected knock came from the front door. That had Stretch curious; Edge was in the front yard, any visitors would be bypassing him, so who would be coming specifically to see Stretch?

Welp. There was only one way to find out.

Read Chapter Two

[sumeshi-t]

the idea of making hc’s of children is sosososo cute. i’ll follow ur steps chloe @akaashit-baeji lolol this is gonna be really self-indulgent buuut my excuse is that it’s my birthday so here it goes... i'm writing the last half of this with a hangover and a bad case of dysmenorrhea... sucks 2 be me

Oikawa Teru (及川 輝)

his name “輝“ means “bright”, and this boi lives up to it because, let’s face it, he’s gonna be like his dad. he embodies this “brightness”, in a way that he’s smart, and he makes sure he and his team’s (or whichever team he’s going to be in) will shine on the court

wavy/curly hair and a victim of my and his dad’s astigmatism. always has this cheeky smile, and he gets my brimming energy so he’s really approachable and charming

very good with words; it’s like he always knows what to say

when he plays he also wears contact lenses

but don’t be fooled. in their generation, it’s him who has to put iwaizumi’s son in check. he knows everything about his teammates too, he knows more than what he lets on (which sometimes, they find creepy, but they all know he means well)

anyway, unlike his dad, he doesn’t really mind having geniuses around. instead, he watches them very closely; something like “mutualism”. he knows what he lacks and he knows he can learn from them too, vice versa.

is into horror games. in his free time, he and his sister take turns playing. and they decide it by seeing who can last the longest without flinching/screaming. he’s annoyed because his sister’s better at it 

has fans, ngl. i mean look at him. however, the female fans especially, are pretty on guard. he’s approachable, but anytime they see him with his sister... they back out. he doesn’t mind, he loves his sister and it actually amuses him. he’s the same when it comes to the boys who hang around her too!

basically protective siblings who are always there for eo

is very neat. can’t concentrate when something is out of place. he keeps his nails short, has a somewhat flowery scent. yes, he uses female perfumes because he despises strong smells.

bug-catching was his childhood hobby just like mine’s was. used to sneak beetles in iwaizumi’s son’s backpack back then

he will never admit it but he actually asks his sister for fashion tips because his taste sucks ass so bad

basically his major problem or issue in life is getting compared to his father (he’s also a setter). he hates that so much, being hidden in the shadow of his dad, and when people just recognize him for being oikawa tooru’s son.

something he and ushijima’s child relate to so strongly. they’re friendly rivals; might end up being teammates in their career hmm

so when he’s the one stressed, he skips practice for a day just so he could recollect his thoughts. usually stays in the library to read books he picked up based on the titles; might either open up to iwa or his sister later on, it depends. then when he’s okay, he doubles the amount of training

Oikawa Rie (及川 麗恵) it’s /ri-ye/ oki

so the kanjis are: "麗" meaning, beautiful and "恵" is blessed. tooru thought of this name obviously

also has curly hair like mine. has that tiny mole below her eye just like i do. actually has lots of moles over her body; one time she fell asleep on the couch her brother drew connecting lines between the moles on her arm and called them constellations. it was nice she thought but still, the next day, teru had to wear a band-aid over his nose bridge.

she’s just a year younger. is less “vibrant” than her brother, a bit more serious. has a resting bitch face and she’s not even sorry about it and i love her for that

she’s actually relieved she looks like that, or else she knows the girls in her class would flock to her just to get in her brother’s pants. usually brushes them off with “ask him, not me” or “do you think that’s any of my concern?” 

her tongue her words damn never get to this baby girl’s bad side she’s gonna burn you alive. like fr when she’s angry, oh she’s gonna show you that she’s angry. but tbh she's very sweet, leaves little notes or little gifts to her friends every now and then

she just doesn’t want her brother’s heart to be broken (she’s heard stories from her mom about her dad’s many hs exes), and she knows teru’s struggles

therefore

doesn’t really like volleyball that much. it’s because she didn’t get to grow up with her dad around, she felt like it separated her from him. she’s not mad at him though. she’s very supportive of him and her brother.

used to play vb though when they were kids. but that’s all it was for her

she’s the team’s honorary manager lol the occasional “i brought you guys sumn” or “something-kun, a girl from my class says she likes you so do your best” etc

the team’s lil sister how bout that

despite being tolerant of horror games, this girl is vvvv squeamish. she cries at the sight of internal organs or blood. biology lab was the worst time of her life 

when she dug up my hs videos she was shook to discover i once did theater. and thus begins her interest in theater too

and??? baby girl is actually???? really really good???? 

the girls she used to shut down nicknamed her “prima”, short for “prima donna” she hates it. hates it more when her closest theater buddy was the one who spread that around

immediately went to the gym to spike some balls from her brother. baby girl was crying because she was just so pissed.

she was given ice cream and sweets afterwards. ugh it’s so cute idk she’s baby to the team skksksk they protecc

in that upcoming play, her first ever performance, the whole team got front row seats and howled when she came on during curtain call; it was vvv sweet and memorable even if the guys were kinda reprimanded afterwards lmao

which is why, in return, boiis also have a hard time approaching her because damn??? the vb team as your knights???? excuse me??? 

oh have i mentioned she has a sweet tooth? mygod. she has a stash of sweets in her room. teru has had to sneak some away because she might get tooth aches or diabetes

her pastel nail polish is arranged by shade, her body clock is fucked up lmao she hates the mornings; has succulents by her window which she names after various characters from books/plays etc she’s for sure gonna be a theater actress tho

asks help from iwa’s son for math. even her brother’s 0% help. teru is smart but a terrible teacher. she’s an above-average student and that’s all that matters for her. she can leave the spotlight to her brother because she only craves one type of spotlight

Miya Seiichi (宮 聖一) and Miya Seiji (宮 聖二)

their names literally mean “聖” sacred then “一” is one, and “二” is two

atsumu thought it was funny. when they were kids, seiichi’s nickname was “juan” and seiji’s was “tutu” (i gave them the nicknames)

when the twins discovered the meaning behind the nicknames, they hated it. especially seiji, he despises it vvv much

so when they were hs, seiichi = chi, seiji = ji for the people they're close with

as we can see here, the twins unfortunately got my curls. seiichi likes his hair as is. he doesn’t like the thought of dyeing his hair just to be differentiated from his twin. in fact he enjoys twin jokes, enjoys tripping people up about it. seiji on the other hand, grew tired of his brother’s jokes and by the time hs started, he sacrifices his soft hair. 

between the two, seiji is the one who has my ugly eyesight. add to the fact that he reads a lot (once he starts he can’t put it down. so he reads in the dark, in a moving car etc)

the piercings was a thing that happened between them, and their cousins (which were also twins wtf)–it was a 2v2 vb thing and they lost

surprisingly, the cousins weren't pleased bc atsumu didn't scold them for getting piercings (but for playing half-heartedly). seiichi wanted the piercings tho tbh it was the perfect excuse. ngl, seiji also wanted them.

first let's talk abt seiichi, aside from the fact he also got my mole (he feels it makes him look cuter tho)

seiichi's into vb, but not a setter. he's the ace. may or may not push through with it as a career. he hasn't decided yet. is actually a bit sad that seiji didn't join the vb club in hs, he wanted them to be like his dad and uncle.

seiichi doesn't have any uh, quirks like shutting the whole cheer squad up like his dad does. but he usually dribbles the ball five times before any serve (this is something i did before) and he likes the 'ooooh hey' thing the crowd does when he goes for a serve

his side of the room doesn't have much stuff going on except workout equipment. he follows what exercise plan i give him as da PT mom that i am, and he is very strict with his diet and with what he eats–he's close to not needing a calorie counter anymore; but not a picky eater. he loves his uncle's cooking very much and he is jealous he can't cook even if he tries

he can do beatboxing, he learned it through youtube lmao his spotify playlists are da bombest; he learns a lot in youtube tho in his free time. his current interest is magic tricks and french (he thinks he can use it to woo that girl from class 4)

he hates insects, and hates mess. he has had to scold his twin about it that it escalated to them having this imaginary line in the middle of the room

anyway, he's straightforward. but not rude. he just doesn't like any pretenses so he says what he thinks or feels is right. may or may not have led to some misunderstandings, but he owns up to his mistakes if he crossed a line

next, seiji

even if he looks like a nerd with his glasses tbh he is not he actually hates studying. you can love reading without having to love studying right? he's that dude

the only time that he regrets dyeing his hair was when he realizes couldn't change identities so his brother could take his exam for him

his side of the room is littered with his sketches, notes from books, pencils everywhere – he drew a bunch of ants one time on a paper and made it look like they're real ass ants and placed it on seiichi's pillow

to solve this problem, atsumu has planned to give him a tablet for his next birthday

quits vb in hs because he kinda lost interest? he still finds it fun but he doesn't wanna be put under the pressure that his dad and uncle left for them lmao

he's in art clubs tho

he designs banners/posters for the team anyway. they use his strategic mind from the shit he's read for any plays and stuff so when he's not drawing, he's thinking

he might look like he has no emotions, but tbh he is more emotional and empathetic than his brother. he cries easily over the simplest things, like those grandparents vids, or rescuing animals and stuff

and thats why he doesn't let people in too much bc he knows he'll be hurt (dw seiichi knows this vvv well, and even if they do have arguments, he loves his lil bro and helps him about this)

has once begged to have a cat at home–seiichi didn't want bc he knows his twin is gonna leave him for clean up lmao

he can cook period.

he's gonna either be an architect or an animator, still hasn't decided.

his music taste sucks lmao. his youtube recents are filled with cooking stuff; in constant conversation with his uncle abt cooking lol it be cute sometimes atsumu is jealous bc he feels his son is closer to his brother than with him

he is forgetful that's why his stuff is messy lol he keeps misplacing stuff, sometimes it's literally in front of him and he's just 'where????'

but remembers dates well, remembers plays well. he's good at nitpicking tiny nearly insignificant details. just anything outside studying? he's good. dw he passes his classes but he hates giving effort for that shit lololol

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 6

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: undecided)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Super long: 3506 words. I’m gonna be honest, this was mainly just to further the relationship between you and Steve. I plan on doing the same for other characters, though I’m not sure when. Also, apparently line breaks aren’t a thing anymore on this godawful website, so-

In all honesty, you didn't remember school being such a nightmare as it was.

"Ugh..."

You trudged into your room and dropped your backpack onto the ground. You just got home and headed immediately to your room. You collapsed straight into your bed and sighed, feeling all of the tension in your neck unravel as you stretch.

"Hnnng...!"

Groaning out loud, you turned on your back as you stared at your ceiling. There's faint music filling the background noise- you might've forgotten to turn off your headphones. You lied there, contemplating.

A week had passed ever since that mission. Not much had happened since then. You got reacquainted with your old friends, resumed school life, and tried to act normal as best as possible.

Of course, it was almost the end of May, which for you meant cramming for classes that you haven't taken in literal years. Exams really were coming up, and you just prayed that you'd even have enough time in your schedule to study.

Even though, theoretically, your schedule shouldn't be as tightly packed as one would think- since you're not 'Avenging' anything and your dad let you off from joining him in his work to study- it just is.

But it all boiled down because of your seemingly fruitless research.

Specifically, research into where the time stone is right now.

You remember that, when you went to time travel, there had been a point where 3 infinity stones lied in New York- 2012, to be specific. It was the mind, space, and time stone. But it was 2013, and besides, you were mainly interested in the time stone, really.

Dr. Strange, who in your timeline had held the time stone, must've gotten it from somewhere, probably relating to whatever magical temple thing he went to.

You had slaved over nearly the whole entirety of what the internet could offer you. If anything, had it not be for the programming in your computer system, you were sure you'd be put on a watchlist of some sort from the type of things you were researching.

You grunted and rolled to your side.

There had been at least one lead, and that led you straight to Nepal, strangely enough. Something about a place that helps the broken, physically and/ or mentally. But even then, the post you found barely said anything about it.

Maybe it had to do with something like therapy? Or something medical? Strange was a doctor before, so he must've at least a connection to some insider knowledge...

You shook your head. You didn't really know and didn't care much for now. Your mind and body in itself, ironically, was tired.

A nap sounds really tempting right about now...

You will admit, you may or may not have spent an ungodly amount of research and talking to doctors and the like to finally find what you were truly looking for.

You sat back and stretched, finally taking your eyes off of the screen from what was hours of hunching over and typing.

You glanced outside your window. It was dark with only the lights of the city and your computer illuminating the walls of your room.

All of your research finally led to one really good, but painful sounding lead. There was a temple named Kamar Taj. As it turns out, your original lead was right; it is located in Nepal and from what you were told, the doctor you spoke to had known a friend who went there in order to help with their mental issue and came back healthy than ever before.

But, considering that Strange came from that temple, it was probably magic and junk like that.

You closed your laptop and all of your journals that you documented all of this research in. You sighed and mulled over it quietly. 

You needed to go to China and head to the temple... But it was vague, where it even was. And besides all of that, you needed to find a reason to tell your parents that you were going to China.

Of course, you can't just walk up to them and tell them, 'Hey, I'm going to China because I need to meet someone with a green magical rock!'.

And it's not like you're an adult right now with no obligations; you're a high schooler.

You have classes to attend, homework to finish, projects to start for next year... Perhaps during the summer, yeah, but even then you're not sure that you can fit that in your schedule.

Maybe next summer?

Your eyebrows furrowed; you wanted to get your questions answered quickly, so that wasn't an option...

And even then, you couldn't guarantee that someone there, even if they had the stone, would be willing to help you. And what would you even ask? How would you even approach the subject?

All of this was making your head throb painfully.

You jumped in your chair when you heard a knock from behind your door. You swiveled around and got up, just as J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up.

"Mr. Rogers is at your door, sir."

"Yeah, could've guessed."

You had changed your door to be a frosted glass one, so you could tell it was Steve by the broad shadow and slim waist. Your lips quirked up- you always called him Doritos man when his back was turned away from you.

"(Name)?"

You abruptly opened the door and was greeted by Steve's wide eyes. Judging by his newly cleaned clothes and wet hair, he probably just got done with training and showering.

"Oh- hey."

"Hey yourself, Steve."

You smiled and opened the door wider, stepping back to let him in. He entered as he whistled quietly, looking all around your walls. You stood near your desk as you silently eyed him.

You ran your thumb over your arm, slightly scratching at your wrist.

"You've kept yourself busy these days, huh."

He looks at a wall that was plastered with suit designs, some even having designed for your future Mark-93, which was the go-to model of your suit.

Granted, that one was technically either Mark-22 or Mark-94, depending on which timeline you were going off of...

Though you will say, there's a huge technological leap between Mark-21 and Mark-22.

But while they were all underneath the other designs, you knew Steve couldn't really tell them apart. You needed to get them all down and into your new lab, which should be finished by the end of the weekend.

He glanced down at your table, filled with journals. There was one about your research, a few for school, and the rest for your own little history book of your timeline. You recently just finished it, and now you needed to just... Get it off your desk. 

His lips quirked up a bit more as picked a few of them up. He probably thought you had a hoarding problem or something.

"Yeah, had a few ideas for some new tech, nothing new."

Steve glanced at you for a split second. Was he nervous?

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you. About the last mission."

You bit your lip as you dug your nails in your wrists, scraping away at the layer of skin as it turned an angry red.

"Oh, what about it?"

Steve sat down at the edge of your bed. You instantly thought back to when Tony had confronted you a few weeks ago. You sat down slowly, keeping your cool as he stared at you with those steely eyes.

Were they ever as unnerving as they are now?

"Back when we were in the building. And you had gotten... Ambushed."

His shoulders were hunched as if he had a lot of tension in his back. His voice was quiet.

"Even though you handled the situation, I just... I want to say that I'm sorry."

Your eyes widened. You sure weren't expecting him to say that.

"Sorry? What for?"

It was funny, in your opinion. Last time, with Tony, you were confused because you didn't know what mission he was talking about. This time, you knew exactly what the mission was. You were still confused, though.

"For letting you get ambushed. I should've known that there were going to be a lot of bad guys there, and I... I feel awful for letting you fight all of them alone. I'm sorry."

For a split second, you felt your stomach churn when he said that. You fighting them all alone...

Memories of him flooded your mind.

'What if we lost, cap? What then?'

'Well, we'll lose as a team- together.'

He always reassured you that you'd go down together as a team. That memory warmed you, only momentarily as something else rushed back at you.

The fight at Titan.

You remembered how it all lead to that. How the Avengers had been split. Those damn Sokovia Accords. You remember watching the light in Steve's and Tony's eyes changed as they looked at each other, already knowing their decisions at heart.

You remember how you told them explicitly that you didn't want your second family to break apart. How Steve himself said it won't.

You foolishly trusted him at the time- maybe it was the naive child in your heart that didn't want to face the harsh reality.

You remember the fight at the airport. How that had marked the end of what you knew as the OG Avengers.

And at Titan... How you had all fought so valiantly, but it just didn't amount to anything.

How you two were separated when you lost almost everything. Pete. Your friends at home. Humanity's faith in their heroes. Your pride and dignity. Hell, you even lost your own...

You glanced away from Steve as you rubbed your arm tenderly.

It was burning.

"It's cool, Steve. No bad blood. But thanks, for the uh, apology."

You lied, hidden shame dripping from your words.

In your timeline, and even now, you were still bitter over the fight at the airport. Bitter for finding an injured and nearly frozen Tony at the old H.Y.D.R.A. base. Bitter for being lied to, about losing as a team. Bitter because Steve had thrown away everything you had given him. Your trust, your hope, your deepest secrets... Everything.

Of course, you aren't as bitter as you were at the moment- after all, years had passed since then-, but you were still bitter nonetheless.

To the point where you made it obvious during your timeline; you wouldn't speak to him- and everyone who sided with him, even Natasha, much to your regret- unless it was business. You ignored every advance he made towards you, didn't respond to his small talk, etcetera.

Was it immature? Yes.

But did he ever apologize to you, even when he had more than literal years to do so? No.

All he did was walk back into your life as if nothing had gone down between you two. And what hurt was that it was all purely because it was business related. He didn't come back because he wanted to fix the relationship between you two.

It was because he had to.

Not because he wanted to.

Granted, one side of you understood that he was still on the run, but just... You would've even taken the smallest of hints that he at least thought about you.

At that point, you being bitter was more because he had never attempted to make amends with you rather than what he had done to your dad- at least with him, Steve had apologized, he did, but with you?

You got nothing, and you were hurt.

Your father was more forgiving of them- even inviting them in for lunch when they first approached your parents' retirement home for business. You would be lying if you didn't glare daggers at them the whole time, especially at Steve.

The air was tense. It was like both of you shouldn't be here, in the same room, together. But neither of you got up before Steve spoke up.

"You know, I- we," Steve coughed, "We were surprised, you know? There was a lot of guys in there."

You could tell the poor guy was trying to lighten the mood. Change the subject, you suppose. It was much needed, especially between the two of you. You knew this Steve didn't deserve to be around you while you were moody because of his future self.

That wasn't fair.

"Really? You think I can't handle myself?"

You teased. Steve smiled at you, the tension in the air becoming less thicker than it was before.

"Honestly speaking? Not really."

Steve chuckled as you shoved him playfully with a fake-offended 'hey'. You smiled at him, almost relieved. You rubbed your wrist as you pulled down your sleeve to cover the red marks up. 

"And I told him I was fine, but he didn't believe me and did it anyway!"

Your body shook with laughter as Steve chucked with you.

You two had been talking for a while now, and it had progressed from the mission to Steve reminiscing during his time before he was a frozen. He was telling you about how Bucky would fret over him since he used to be a sickly guy. Always getting into trouble, as well. 

Some things just never seem to change, especially in the future.

"Can't really blame the guy, can you?"

He shook his head with a reluctant smile.

You're leaned back on your chair as Steve's half sprawled across your bed, only his elbow propping him up as he rolls his eyes.

"Not really... Though I would've appreciated if he had let me do my own thing."

A comfortable silence filled the room. Your eyes wandered over Steve's relaxed position. It was rare you ever got to see the man not worked up; he was always either training or trying to keep up with the world, which objectively is hard work.

"I don't really think I ever told you this, but...," You quietly spoke up as Steve stared at you with curiosity, "I always liked hearing about, you know, your life before being frozen."

Steve perked up with a surprised smile.

"Really?"

You hummed quietly and closed your eyes. You nodded your head side to side as Steve eyed your peaceful state.

"Yeah... offer's insider knowledge of a different time without talking to a bitter old person, you feel?"

Steve was silent, but not for long.

"Well... Is there anything you wanna hear more about?"

You opened your eyes just a tiny bit and pursed your lips. You squinted at him and hummed loudly.

"Hmm..."

What was there to know more about Steve? You already knew more than you'd like, and while you wouldn't mind hearing Steve repeat the same story once again, you'd rather hear something else.

"Anyone that was special to you?" He opened his mouth, "Other than Mr. Barnes?"

You chuckled when he shut his mouth again with an eye-roll. The guy always took whatever chance he got to ramble on and on about Bucky, even though you secretly didn't really mind it.

You were trying to fish for maybe someone else other than Bucky- you already knew first hand how special he was to Steve.

Steve thought for a moment before he spoke up again. His voice was soft as he smiled and looked at his hands.

"Well, there was this one gal... Her name was Peggy. She was my best gal."

"That's... That's rough, buddy."

Steve half-smiled at you.

He told you about Peggy, who was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent during his time. Apparently, he had fallen in love with her and promised her a dance right before he, well...

You clicked your tongue.

"Well... It's not really... Healthy, to you know, be hung up on people of the past, you know?"

You knew that first hand. The first few months after the snap, you were teetering on the edge of madness as you grieved heavily for your lost friends.

It was... A rough patch in your life. Never before had you ever gone so near to the brink of no return before your family- the ones still alive- had managed to reel you back in just on time.

While you knew that Steve was strong and that it wasn't really the same thing, it still wasn't that pleasant of a feeling to still be dependent on someone you once knew.

Though, it did just now occur to you how bad that sounded when you were just greeted with silence from the super soldier.

"Of course, not to say that you should forget her altogether, I just... I-"

You tried backtracking, but Steve shook his head with a smile.

"No, I get it. Actually, Natasha's been trying to help me with that. Moving on."

You raised an eyebrow. This was the first you've heard of this- you knew they were close, but you would've never thought that close. 

You supposed that during that long timespan that you never really saw Natasha and Steve, they could've gotten real chummy together, but... Something still bugged you.

"Wait, hold up, I thought Nat was into Bruce?"

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. 

It was- so you thought- mildly well known between everyone on the team of the weird tension between Banner and Romanoff. Always sending each other looks under the table, the sly smiles- there was no way she wasn't into Bruce.

Hell, even in the future, there was still the tension between the two of them- even if Bruce was, like, triple the size he was before.

And green.

Steve felt conflicted. What in the world are you talking about? He was quiet for a short moment before his eyes widened wildly. He stifled a chuckle as his shoulders shook.

"(Name), no, what I meant was she was trying to get me to date other people."

Your lips were pressed in a thin line as your eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, welp-"

You couldn't help yourself as you laughed along with Steve. The previous weight in the air from the topic of Peggy was lessoning a tad bit, just like earlier.

You two calmed down just a little bit, but you still held a toothy grin as you licked your lips.

"Well, has it been working? Any fine gals that caught Mr. America's attention?"

You teased him. You wouldn't really be surprised if he said no- he doesn't really seem like the type to go prowling around for someone that interests him.

He's quiet as he glances at you. His jaw clenches as you're locked in a staring contest- granted you didn't really know why. He trails his eyes off of you as he stares at your wall absentmindedly.

"I wouldn't say that necessarily..."

He doesn't really look at you as silence settles in the room once more, though you can't really tell what the mood of the atmosphere in there was.

He glances at your clock and smiles. It's a goofy looking clock- it looks like it's made for a kid- that has a miniature version of your Apex suit. The quality was obviously rushed, and chances are you probably bought it from a Target or something. Maybe Amazon.

"Well, I should get going by now. Heaven knows the amount of work we both need to do tomorrow."

You groaned loudly when you were reminded of tomorrow. Another day of school for you- though, you didn't know what he had going for him tomorrow. Maybe a solo mission from Fury?

Either way, it was getting kind of late and you both needed some shut-eye.

You watched as he got up from your bed and rubbed his shoulder tenderly. You didn't blame him- being in the position he was in, it definitely does a number on the shoulders.

You rolled your eyes as he groaned exaggeratedly. You slid down your chair just so you could stretch your legs and kick him in his knee pit.

He didn't buckle, much to your annoyance, as he chuckled when he saw you almost falling off your chair like a child.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, you'll live, big baby."

"Oh, thanks for your words of encouragement."

He laughed as he opened your door and as he was almost out the door, he popped his head back in as he remembered something. You raised an eyebrow as he had a cocky smirk on his face.

"Oh, and for your performance back at the last mission- I'm upping your training regiment. Good job, champ."

His head dipped out of your door as you nearly fell off of your chair. The door slammed as you hopped over to your door and yell out your room. You watched as Steve's figured disappeared over a corner, his laughing echos through the empty floor.

"Wha- hey no! That's illegal! Ste- get back here! Steve!"

Masterlist

Tag: @unsolvetheheckoutofit

[devnny]

CHAPTER NINE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

this was too fun to write knowing what comes next, PLEASE ENJOY

Tenna leaned her cheek against her hand with a smile, swaying the leg that she had slung over her knee as she sat across the table from her unexpected guest. It was a mischievous, evil smile, Devi thought.

“So,” She tittered a little. “how’s your househusband?”

“Please, do NOT call him that.” Devi begged, eyes rolling firmly backwards in her skull.

Tenna continued her snickering.

“That what he is, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on.” Tenna scoffed, her mug scooting across the table as she extended her hands out. “How many times has he made dinner this week?”

“That has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING.” Devi pointed at her defensively. “He should be cooking for me – it’s not like he pays rent! That’s just him earning his keep.”

“Uh-huhhh…” Tenna nodded as if she was humoring the denials. Devi gurgled her irritation in the back of throat.

“But he is behaving himself, like a good little hubby might?”

“Tenna…” Devi gritted her molars, and Tenna belted out another set of laughs.

“WELL, IS HE?”

“YES, he is behaving fine. Like a dog might.” She answered, more comfortable comparing Johnny to a mostly-domesticated creature than even conceptualizing the joke of him being a spouse to anyone, especially her. Tenna bobbed her head along again. Devi settled back into her chair, hoping to relax.

“He’s been asleep all day.” She complained. “I want to wake his ass up so I can paint, because I can’t be blasting music in there if he’s sleeping on his desk, but he probably needs the rest. He supposedly hadn’t slept in ‘months’ before this.”

Tenna’s tongue poked out from behind her smile, followed by a sharp squeak from somewhere out of Devi’s line of sight.

“That’s so considerate of you, Devi—!”

“DO NOT even TRY to construe any decency I have as acts of kindness for him.” Devi cut her off with a squint.

Two more squeaks.

“Why are you so defensive about this? It’s okay to enjoy the company of your roommate.” Tenna teased again. Devi grumbled.

Tenna hadn’t let up on this topic since she found out that Johnny was officially moved into the apartment. At this point, laying on the couch aimlessly with a sleeping Johnny in the adjacent room was more appealing than sitting here and getting ridiculed for her wrongly-assumed-nice choices.

“Forget it. I’m going to go check—” Devi started as she stood, but cut herself off as her friend flittered another smile toward her.

“…go check on him.” She finished unhappily, then left before Tenna could mock her again.

--

TWO FLOORS ABOVE:

“No…!” Devi’s voice was waning, and he laughed.

“No, Johnny, no, don’t—”

Johnny dug the knife into her chest again, and felt a rush of satisfaction that she was helpless to stop him. He never held the control between the two of them, but this time she would be answering to him! She hardly even tried to push him away, only calling out with a voice that was growing softer with each gasp she worked to swallow.

She deserved this for being so rude to him! Awful woman – she had such biting words before, but now she had to reserve her fangs for biting back the blood that sputtered out past her lips. It made him laugh.

“Nny…” Devi croaked out.

He felt a sudden emptiness in his chest, and his arms chilled, startling him with the stark contrast of how hot his skin had felt just a moment ago, burning with the pleasure of revenge.

There was no pleasure in this.

She was dying.

--

Johnny’s body spasmed and he whacked his elbows against his desk as he awoke with a guttural gasp. He scrambled into a sitting position in his chair, slapping his palms on the surface of his drafting table like a scurrying animal. As he got his bearings, his head swiveled around frantically, until he was certain that he knew where he was – which was sitting in Devi’s art room.

A breath shuddered out of him through his panting, and he gulped as best he could past the dry lump in his throat.

Just another fucking dream. He had fallen asleep. GOD, he hated sleeping. The last thing he remembered was finishing the project that he had been working so madly on. He must have laid his head down on his desk afterwards and opened himself up to the horrors of his fervid mind.

He didn’t want to disclose it to Devi, but this was not the first dream he had about killing her since her intervention into his life. The first was the night after their tutoring sessions restarted, after their minor falling out due to him attacking her with a pen.

That week Johnny had cried his guts sore, then rode wave after wave of anxiety about meeting Devi again and attempting to apologize, then nearly combusted with joy that she actually forgave him. He must have burned himself out, he had figured, with the last of his drawing attempts the night following that, then had passed out when he got home.

Stupid emotions, so tiring.

He sneered and roughly rubbed his uneven hair, then turned his attention to his sketchbook that laid closed in front of him. He opened it to check his work, partly to distract himself from the lingering tendrils of his nightmare, and partly out of rampant curiosity of what the final result was.

His lower eyelid wiggled uncomfortably at the figure that greeted him.

DEVI? He had been drawing Devi this entire time?

Jeezus, how was he supposed to share this with her? He hadn’t meant to put a week’s worth of effort into a portrait of… her, but he had, and now he would need to hide it away to ensure she didn’t think he was a total creep and throw him out of her house on his ass.

Johnny pouted; it was the nicest thing he’d made in years, too. He really liked the lines, and how it was layered through multiple pages. He sighed and settled the cover closed again.

“So, you’re finally up, huh?” Devi stood in the doorway, previously obscured by the sketchbook he held up. Johnny screamed.

“AH—OH, UH, DEVI…!” He blathered, clutching the book close to his chest. Devi chuckled.

“It’s weird seeing you sleeping.” She commented as she walked the short way to his desk. “You snore a little bit, by the way.”

Johnny’s nose crinkled, unaware that he snored. Strange.

“I saw your little project.” She said, and his heart toppled into the hopeless abyss of his stomach. Devi laughed again at the terrified look on his face. She hated to admit that she felt more relaxed around Johnny than Tenna these days, but that could just be her pride talking.

“DEVI, I…” He gasped, then swallowed and tried again. “I-I promise, it’s, it’s really not as… uhm, intimate, as it seems—”

“Oh please don’t use that word for it.” Devi scoffed casually.

Johnny lowered nervously, partially hiding behind his sketchbook.

“Just promise me it’s not like, a testament to your undying love for me, and I won’t have to club you to death.” She teased, and Johnny’s eyes went wide in embarrassment.

“NO, NOT AT ALL.” He stood. “I just, I—I didn’t even realize this is what I was making until it… was done! Honest!”

Devi blinked at him skeptically.

“You… didn’t know what you were making?”

“Yes! It was like I was compelled to make that!”

She squinted at him with some suspicion.

“Do you think… Meat influenced you to create it, then?” She asked.

Johnny’s panic dissolved at the question.

“Oh…” His eyes wandered down to the sketchbook, but he was not worried about the idea of Meat’s interference with that. “No, I don’t think so.”

But with the mention of it, he was suddenly very suspicious that his parasite was the cause of his horrible dreams. He couldn’t understand what the Reverend would want as a result from tormenting him with bloody, anguished Devi’s, but Johnny was confident at least that the motive was part of the voice’s ‘plan’ for him. Against his better judgement, he kept those thoughts from Devi for the time being.

“What makes you so sure?” Devi crossed her arms loosely. “I mean, I guess it is creating, so the likelihood is low, but it’s still… me-related.”

Johnny shook his head and inched a ways closer to her.

“A lot of things right now are you-related.” He replied, almost a little smug, and Devi scoffed a smile again.

“Whatever.” She waved him off.

Devi returned to the living room, and Johnny trailed after her, stopping short when he saw her shrugging her jacket on. She had just wanted to paint today, but there was a more pressing issue on the agenda now.

“Hope you’re up for an outing,” She turned to him and gave him an annoyed look. “because we have to go to the store, seeing as you ate all my food.”

Johnny’s upper lip dropped low in surprise, then tightened back up into a guilty smile as he laced his hands behind his back. It was strange having so much food available to eat; he couldn’t recall his own cupboards and fridge ever having such variety. He had allowed himself to get a little carried away with his snacking while Devi was asleep – he still remembered, with some lingering pain, his whining and belly-aching after eating until he was far beyond full for the first time in maybe a year. Devi had shown little sympathy for him.

“Ah – of course!” Johnny shrugged happily, eager to sooth any irritation she had with him with dutiful agreements. Devi huffed a little and hitched her backpack securely onto her shoulders, then lead the pair out of the apartment.

--

AT A NEARBY GROCERY STORE:

Usually, Devi was content with shopping at convenience stores for her groceries, but the small-sized portions and limited selections at a 24/7 or a Grab n’ Go weren’t very good for restocking her entire food supply, so she begrudgingly parked her car in the lot of an actual grocery store. She and Johnny watched from the safety of Devi’s car as a mother wheeled a cart past them that was half full of food, and half full of wailing toddlers. Devi turned to give him a bitter expression, as if he had intentionally eaten her out of house and home and forced her to come here. Johnny offered a nervous smile as reply.

“At least it’s getting late?” He chuckled just as nervously. “So, maybe less screaming babies?”

Devi muttered her complaints under her breath and opened her door to get out, followed hurriedly by Johnny.

They walked briskly to the store’s front, with Devi ignoring all the annoying things she saw in the parking lot to the best of her ability, and with Johnny eyeing every unpleasant and rude act he saw with the shifting eyes of a predator. Neither of them enjoyed being among the masses even on a good day, but Johnny felt particularly on edge being near so many irritating things after such little recent exposure. If Devi wasn’t beside him, he was certain he would have snapped before even getting to the entrance.

He kept close to her side while she wheeled a shopping cart from aisle to aisle, and mused to himself how odd the action was. He never went to places where you’d even be offered the luxury of a shopping cart – not that he was ever buying enough things to require one, what with his meager funds and all. Devi dropped seemingly random things into it, and Johnny, rather than even attempt to suggest anything that he might want to eat too, only eyed the options that she chose inquisitively, settled in the idea that whatever she chose was all that would be available to him anyway.

Johnny had no complains about Devi’s taste in cereals or cheap instant food, and shortly found himself uninterested with their current errand. While Devi checked a carton of eggs for any broken shells, his eyes wandered around the length of the back aisle they were on, and a disruption on the opposite side of the store drew his attention.

When Devi turned back to ask him something, she was horrified to find him missing.

“JOHNNY!” She called out immediately, stricken with both concern and anger.

She got no response, and abandoned her cart to look for him, hoping that he was just a few rows away and got distracted by something shiny or sugary.

Two aisles, nothing.

Four aisles, nothing.

Devi’s anxiety rose the longer it took for her to find him, and after two failed sweeps of the store, it reached a fevered pitch. She had absolutely no concern for his safety, of course, but rather for the safety of every asshole in the proximity of the building. That thought spurred her to go check the parking lot, and she rushed to the front of the store again.

Her boots clanked on the sidewalk as she paced from one end of the parking lot to the other. It irritated a man soliciting near the entrance, but when he went to confront her about her annoying actions, Devi shoved him to the side and out of her way as she sped by. She opened her mouth to call for Johnny again, when a sickeningly damp, whacking sound hit her left ear, and she turned her focus to the alleyway that lead to the back of the grocery.

“Oh, no.” She winced. “Please, Christ.”

With all of her urgency to find him only seconds ago, the speed that she crept to the alley felt achingly slow. Devi hurried the last few steps, and whipped around the wall, convinced that Johnny is what she would see.

She wasn’t disappointed in that regard, at least.

Johnny stood some yards away with his back to her, his slender frame barely visible with the dark backdrop of the alleyway, but unmistakable to Devi. Some poor soul lay at his feet, and Johnny’s arm pulled back, revealing he was equipped with a pipe of some sort. Devi’s mouth hung open in dismay.

“JOHNNY C.” Her voice roared out of her, and Johnny’s body tensed instinctually.

His hand popped open like a talon, letting his weapon of opportunity fall to the badly maintained asphalt with a chorus of metallic clanking. He turned to look at Devi fearfully, and her stare only grew angrier from the clear view of the blood spatter that reached up to his elbows on both arms. Johnny’s face stretched uncomfortably as he forced an anxious smile onto it.

“D… DEVI.” He tried to laugh out. “I, UH… I can explain!”

One of his muddied hands swung back to gesture at the man laying beaten behind him. The man groaned incoherently, then went quiet again. Johnny grimaced, and jolted where he stood as Devi began to approach him with quickening speed.

“YOU—”

“NO, WAIT.” Johnny evaded her a moment by circling around her, suddenly worried about getting cornered just as he had his victim. His arms jutted out to the man on the floor again. “He was calling his girlfriend all sorts of degrading things! In public!”

“Johnny…!” She growled.

A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

“I swear I was going to let him live!” He insisted. “It wasn’t going to be a murder, just a little head bashing, that’s all!”

“OH, THAT’S “ALL”!?” Devi yelled at him, and slipped an arm free from the straps of her backpack. Both hands gripped the other strap, and she propelled it forward in an aggressive swing, tagging Johnny somewhere near his collar. The power behind the hit knocked him to the floor, and Devi stood over him with her knees bent to continue beating him with her bag.

“YOU IDIOT!” She hissed between swings. “I CAN’T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE!”

Johnny pleaded with her through fearful shrieks and all manner of breathless grunts from being struck, but nothing would stop Devi until her rage had run its course. All he could do was shield his face with his forearms until she decided his punishment was over.

At least her bag didn’t have much in it, from what he could feel. He was more concerned that she would abandon it in favor of her much more deadly clenched fists, or maybe the pipe that he had so mercilessly battered that jerk with, which was still laying nearby.

“Ugh!” Devi exclaimed with one final smack of her backpack on his chest.

She stepped over his form and readjusted her bag onto her shoulders, unconcerned about if the contents inside were broken or not. Johnny peeked an eye open at her from the ground, and watched her fix her frazzled hair a moment before scampering upright again. Devi scowled at him, and he replied with a sheepish smile, happy despite himself that she hadn’t cracked his skull open like an egg.

Devi’s nose crinkled, and she lowered her eyes down to his arms and hands, which still had patches of dirty blood on them. His fingers wiggled at his sides, as if in response to her staring, and she glowered.

This was not good. Even when she was right next to him, Johnny, the slippery little fucker, had absconded to commit some violent act – and she wasn’t sure she bought his claims that it wouldn’t have turned fatal, instead suspecting it only didn’t because of her timely appearance. Shit!

“What more do you expect me to do, Johnny?” Devi asked through bared teeth, and his smile dropped into an ashamed pout.

“I… uh, well, nothing.” He replied with a single scuff of his boot on the floor. He was more remorseful for upsetting her than he was for indulging in his desire for carnage, what with her doing so much to help him and all. She shouldn’t need to do anything more – it was just so difficult to control himself with bastards like that populating the city! Such hard choices…

“You need to clean up. You can’t go back into the store with blood all over you.” Devi snipped, and Johnny perked up, hopeful his answer would calm her.

“I’ll just wash off in the bathroom – no one ever notices the blood, anyway.”

“No, of course they wouldn’t.” Devi closed her eyes in annoyance. The universe just liked to hand Johnny free passes for getting away with dastardly deeds, didn’t it?

She started to walk out of the alley, and Johnny paid his latest victim a quick glance – he was still twitching, that was good! – before he followed Devi back into the store.

A myriad of low-spoken curse words ghosted past Devi’s lips as she waited for him outside the men’s bathroom door, and her bitter mood continued when Johnny popped back out to display his now-clean palms to her.

She was disappointed, again, and hated herself for getting comfortable, again. Why did she always fall into the same trap of overconfidence when it came to her ability to control this lunatic? Even with Johnny acting fairly normal and domestic with her at home, he was still like a volatile chemical, and mixing him with anything besides his routine could make him explode.

They returned to the cart that Devi had left near the dairy section, and she felt a tiny bit of relief that it was still sitting there untouched. After grabbing a couple more things, they went through a check stand, paid for their crap, and Devi glared at nothing, one bag in her arms, while Johnny gathered up the other two from the end of the counter.

Amongst her brooding, a blip of color in her peripheral caught her attention, and she looked to the woman that had been behind them in line. She was standing, talking cheerfully with the cashier, while her toddler daughter tried to rush over to the attractive, cheap toy and candy dispensers on the front wall. The poor thing couldn’t get far however, with her brilliantly colored monkey toddler harness and leash springing her backwards onto her butt every time she tried to charge ahead.

Devi blinked, her curiosity peaked, and she looked back up to the mother, who continued on with what she was doing, unbothered by her hyperactive child, unworried about having to watch her, with the pink handle of the leash held firmly in her hand reassuring her that her daughter was right where she expected her to be.

“What?” Johnny asked in regard to Devi’s thinking face.

“Hmm…” Devi looked off thoughtfully.

That might work.

--

NEXT.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

That 80′s Scene

Plot: AU When a friend sends him a link to a video recreating a scene from an American movie, he’s shellshocked to discover that the leading lady looks an awful lot like you, the exchange student here on study abroad.

Characters: College Student!Jungkook, Female Reader Exchange Student, College Student!Yoongi, College Student!Namjoon, College Student!Jaehyun, plus mention of the other members.

Rating: PG-13 (Language, mention of a girl in a bikini pretending to remove her top, male fantasies, minor jealousy) NSFW-ish

Notes: Moodboard is by me – please no reposting of this or the related story anywhere else! For those of you who aren’t familiar with 80s American films, the scene mentioned and depicted in the moodboard is from a film called Fast Times at Ridgemont High. The original scene was a fantasy sequence dreamed up by a male character after watching his female acquaintance prepare to take a dive into his pool.

“Hyung, what’s the point of this book?” Jungkook moaned as he put his head down on the desk.

The older student looked up from his worn copy of the required reading and glanced over at the second year student making a dramatic fuss. He placed a hand on Jungkook’s arm and gently shook it, reminding him that he chose to take this course.

Jungkook lifted his head and frowned at the comment. Yes it was true – the second year reviewed the classes he could take to finish his Literature GE requirement, selecting the current one that was focused on world literature. It seemed less heady compared to the Korean Lit class and he reasoned that the other writings from other countries couldn’t possibly be that bad. But now they were on some awful dense piece from a Russian author and he was kicking himself for choosing the course. Thank goodness for Namjoon being in the same class, otherwise he’d probably get a big fat F.

“I can explain the book’s importance–” Namjoon began, pausing when his phone went off. He dug around in his bag and retrieved it, unlocking it to take the call. “Hello Mrs. Ahn...ah no I’m not in class now...yeah of course! I can head over now. I’ll be...5 minutes. Okay thank you.” He hung up and apologized to Jungkook as he began packing up his things.

Jungkook sighed as he watched the other male pack up – it was an emergency tutoring session from the sounds of it. In addition to juggling a full load of classes, Namjoon was a tutor for the student tutoring center and often he’d take last minute gigs for Lit and Music if needed.

“Tomorrow?” Jungkook asked as Namjoon slung his bag on his shoulder.

Namjoon nodded and checked his watch. “I’ve got 2 classes and my meeting with my advisor for thesis tomorrow, but I have time after 14 PM. That okay?”

Jaehyun

Did you try SparkNotes? Sent 16:29 PM

Jungkook

No, I’d rather ask Namjoon. Besides, the professor will know if we consulted Wikipedia or something like it. Sent 16:30 PM

“Playing games again?” you teased the young man as you approached him in the dorm lounge.

Jungkook jumped and looked up from his phone, straightening up from his slouched position on the couch. He shook his head and put his phone in his pocket, explaining it was texts from his friend.

“We’re both struggling in class noona,” he explained. “It’s this book by some Russian guy and Namjoon’s the only one who seems to get it. I bet you anything he read it for fun before taking this class!”

You took a seat beside him and prompted him to share which title it was. He pulled the book from his backpack and you smiled knowingly.

“Make that two people who get it,” you replied as you took the book from him. “I can break it down into simpler terms if you have time.”

He grinned widely and nodded enthusiastically, fishing out a notebook and pen to scribble things down.

“I didn’t know she was into literature! Now I really wanna meet her!” Namjoon sighed.

Jungkook shrugged, trying to hide his reaction. While he admired and respected Namjoon for being smart, helpful, and a bit quirky (Ex. Going on rambles about whales out of the blue), he sort of didn’t want his elder to meet you. Then again, he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when he saw other guys admiring you on campus.

You were an exchange student doing a year long study abroad. In order to help the exchange students acclimate, the university asked for current students to volunteer as guides/buddies that would show the exchange students around and answer their questions. Jungkook volunteered, curious to know more about somewhere outside of Korea and was assigned to you. Despite the age difference, you treated him like an equal and tried to dissuade him from calling you noona. But he couldn’t help it – it was a habit and he liked thinking of you as his noona.

Of course, there was the drawback that being from another country meant everyone wanted to hang out with you or get to know you. You exuded a different attitude and energy from the Korean girls on campus, which made a lot of the male students curious to chat you up: some with innocent intentions, while others were clearly hoping to get your number.

“She’s cool hyung,” Jungkook replied. “She happened to run into me yesterday and said, “Kookie, I’ll help you.” So we’re all good.”

Namjoon fixed his bag on his shoulder and asked if his friend Jaehyun needed help. Jungkook nodded and said that his good friend was just as lost about the material as he had been.

“I think he’s done for the day – you could probably message him and find time to discuss,” Jungkook offered.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he copied the link from his phone, index finger tapping the Enter button on his computer. Jaehyun sent him the link earlier, asking if he had seen the video yet. Initially Kook thought it was probably something like a reaction video or some YouTuber copying the Fortnite dance challenge or something. He clicked the link and saw it was someone who did their version of a scene from a movie – probably a low budget student project thing for a grade.

The movie was in English so he didn’t understand everything happening in terms of dialogue. He saw it was a guy peeping out his window looking at a brunette in a red bikini standing on a diving board, then the scene changed to the girl in the red bikini swimming to the surface of the pool ladder, taking a breath. That’s when he dropped his phone into his lap when the camera focused on her face, or should he say, your face.

At first he thought it was a weird daydream he was having with you in it. Once he got back to the house he shared with three other guys, he took a seat at his computer and copied the link into YouTube. The phone screen was small – it was hard tell if this girl was a twin or his brain inserting you into the scene.

The site thought about it before pulling up said video and it began to play. A dated synthesizer sound played through his speakers and his eyes focused on the girl swimming up for air. Once her head was visible, he leaned closer and gaped in shock. It was you.

His hands shakily rested on the desk as his eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching as you addressed a male character off screen.

“Hi Brad,” you said, “you know how cute I always thought you were.”

The line made him puff his cheeks out unhappily as he watched you climb out of the pool, walking in a slow, dramatic manner toward a guy in a suit. It was just a scene, but he was definitely not liking this ‘Brad’ guy you were walking toward.

His hand hovered over the mouse and he scrubbed the video back to the beginning, just to make sure it was really you.

“Are you putting more viruses on the computer?”

Jungkook whipped his head around, seeing it was one of his housemates Yoongi. The elder was in his final year of undergrad, majoring in Music Production and Business. Jungkook and his friend Jimin answered his call for roommates and managed to pass Yoongi’s questionnaire. Jungkook shook his head and pouted as he pointed to the screen, currently playing the video.

Yoongi leaned forward and sniffed as the clip showed a young woman standing on the end of a diving board, before transitioning to her slowly swimming to the surface of the pool. He was about to turn away, leave the other to his porn but he blinked when the young woman’s face broke the surface of the clear water.

“Eh? Is this a joke?” he demanded as he placed a hand on the back of the other male’s chair, trying to get a better look at the young woman.

“You see her too, don’t you hyung?” the younger boy said. “It looks like Y/N.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened as he watched you address Brad before walking over and pretending to unclasp your swim top, leaning in for a kiss. Then the scene shifted to Brad in his room fantasizing the scene while jerking off, while in reality, you dove into the pool and complained that you got water in your ears.

“Maybe she has a twin?” Yoongi offered.

Jungkook shook his head and scrolled down to the summary section, pointing to your name. He heard his phone buzz and he realized he probably left Jaehyun hanging, grumbling as he unlocked his phone.

Jaehyun

It’s really her – the credits say so! Sent 18:19 PM

Namjoon

Jungkookie, you didn’t tell me your friend acted! Sent 18:25 PM

Wait, hyung saw the video too?

Jungkook typed back to Jaehyun, the latter replying that he got caught watching the video again instead of summarizing the details of the book at Namjoon’s instruction.

Jaehyun

Sorry Kook, Nam took my phone and he looked like a deer in headlights when he saw Y/N’s face. Sent 18:49 PM

We’ve re-watched the video a couple of times to make sure – so much for studying! Sent 18:50 PM

Jungkook groaned as he put his head down on the desk. At the rate they were going, who hadn’t seen this video of you in two tiny pieces of Spandex looking too sexy?

“It looks like it was a student project,” Namjoon shared with Jungkook a few days later. “The original movie was this American movie from the 80s and the guy’s channel is made up of a lot of recreations of movie scenes.”

“So it’s not a porn?” Yoongi asked as he joined them.

Namjoon shook his head and explained that he rented a copy of the original American film and compared it side-by-side with the video you were in.

“The movie version could almost be a porn,” Namjoon confessed. “The girl actually took her top off and the camera showed it. No rectangle – everything on display.”

Jungkook reddened and Yoongi almost choked on his coffee he was enjoying. It was too much for him to think about – you wearing that bikini and coyly addressing your male counterpart before making out with him.

“You talked to her about it?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook shook his head and confessed that you had different schedules. He hadn’t seen you since your run-in at the student dorm lounge where you lived.

Yoongi put his cup down and nodded as he spotted you. “Then go talk to her now.” He gently nudged Jungkook forward and began guiding Namjoon to the opposite side of campus, leaving you two to talk in private.

“Hey Kook, everything all right?” you asked as you approached him. You frowned as you lifted a hand to his forehead, checking for a temperature.

“Well you don’t feel warm, but your face is all flushed,” you noted.

Jungkook fiddled with his bag strap and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Um, noona,” he began, “my, my friends found this video and we saw a girl in it that looked like you. It was...an accident and we were really surprised.”

You sighed as you shook your head. “I had a feeling that would come up again,” you mused with a faint smile. “I did it as a favor for my friend – he needed to shoot a portfolio for his college to get into their film program and no one was available to play the female lead. I told him the top stayed on, but we mimed it so people got the idea. Apparently, it worked because he’s in the college and he’s doing well. But believe me, that’s my only credit acting-wise. I’m not cut out for that stuff as a regular job.”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped up and met yours. “You’re not mad?”

You shook your head and explained that he wasn’t the first to ask about the video. “I knew that it was probably going to raise questions,” you confessed. “But the guy was desperate – we’ve known each other since we were kids and he was having the worst luck with casting for that scene. I think he tested about...oh three other girls and they weren’t right or they quit for various reasons. Hell, I don’t even look anything like the original actress from the movie.”

“But noona looked...really good,” Jungkook admitted. “It was really –”

“Hot?” you teased. “Well, I guess you can use that for good imagery when you need it.”

“NOONA!”

“I’m joking,” you replied. “But yes, it’s me in that skimpy little suit and no, my body doesn’t look like that anymore. But it was fun pretending to be the hot girl every guy wanted.”

“But guys here want you – even with clothes on,” Jungkook protested as he gestured around the campus.

“Eh I don’t want any of them,” you said. “I’ve got enough good guys in my life: You, Yoongi, my friend back home...yeah I think that’s enough.” You crossed your arms over your chest and asked who found the video first.

“Jaehyun,” Jungkook confessed.

“Ah figures,” you said. “You saw it, I’m guessing others have?”

“My housemates,” Jungkook confessed, “and Namjoon-hyung, but that’s really it.”

You waved it away as nothing and shrugged. “Whatever, I don’t care – it’s out there, I owned up to it. They can take it or leave it.”

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Father Time - A Christmas Truce Gift

Happy holidays, @qlinq-qhost! That’s right, Dee, I was your back up Truce partner! I’m so sorry to hear that your original partner wasn’t able to get you a gift this year, but that just means I can give you one myself. You wanted some good old father/son Clockwork and Danny fluff and I am all too happy to provide. I hope you enjoy and that you have a great new year!

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                                                Father Time

The sound of canvas material tearing and ripping against the force of too many papers and books sent Danny Fenton into a panic as he felt all the weight in his backpack disappear. A reluctant look over his shoulder showed exactly what he had been expecting to see, which was the sight of a week’s worth of missed or late homework scattered alongside the sidewalk and road with crumbled, wrinkled textbooks.

It took a long moment for it all to sink in, but when it did, Danny was pulling his now broken backpack off and throwing it at the wall of a nearby brick building with as much force as possible. The few objects that had remained inside were free to tumble out and hit the strips of grass and gravel, Danny ignoring the newest problem in favor of taking care of what was currently his biggest problem.

While Danny was used to exhausting days considering he was the town hero Danny Phantom and half-ghost, it was somehow worse when it was just normal human things that managed to get to him.

“Oh, come on!” The words burst out of him violently as a car sped past, running over the papers still in the street and either ruining them or kicking them up into the air. Danny tried to grab what parts of the papers he could, near shaking with rage when it happened two more times before he got everything picked up. “Just my luck.”

He had half a mind to blame Johnny 13 and the teen’s own usual bad luck, but he hadn’t seen Johnny in almost a week. No, this was Danny’s bad luck and the results of it all had him contemplating throwing everything of his that was school related into the nearest dumpster. Before he could, though, his phone was ringing, forcing him to juggle things around before he managed to answer it with a huffy little, “What.”

“Wow, someone’s having a bad day!” At hearing Tucker’s voice, Danny relaxed the smallest amount and gave a groan as an answer. “That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say the last few days haven’t been the best.” It was at least a relief to hear Tucker’s familiar voice where he had been out of town for the last few days, now. “How’s the family reunion?”

“Half of them think technology is a sin, so, you know, I’ve been using technology to make their lives hell over the last few days. What’s been going on with you? Sam back, yet?”

“She should be back on Saturday. Why did you two both have to have family reunions at the same time? I can’t believe the school even excused you for that.” 

“As long as I do the homework, I don’t think they care, and I think Sam’s parents bribed the school with a new gym or something. Seriously, though, how are you? You sound like you’ve had a rough week. Wanna talk about it?”

Considering Danny was a week behind on homework, had dealt with five ghost attacks, hadn’t seen his parents since they left for a science convention, and had to deal with Jazz stressing herself out about college finals, Danny supposed it could be said that he was having a rough week. He also didn’t want to bother Tucker with it when he was so far away and couldn’t help, though.

“Nah, just minor things. My backpack finally reached the end of its life, though, and sent all my books and papers into the street.”

“That sucks.” Tucker’s tone was flat and matter-of-fact and Danny had to fight off a laugh. “Nothing too bad, though?”

“C’mon, Tuck, I can handle a week without you and Sam here - although you are very missed. Thank you for leaving snacks in your locker at school all the time, by the way.”

“Hey! I was saving those!”

It was easy to turn to bickering and teasing as Danny started the walk home again, everything clutched in one arm awkwardly as he fought to keep it balanced without losing anything. It didn’t help seeing as he had to stop to pick up one or two things every few feet, but his conversation with Tucker at least kept him from going off the deep end.

It took almost an hour to get home, Danny finally ending the call with Tucker and shuffling his way into the kitchen and dropping everything onto the kitchen table. Half of it fell into the floor and Danny didn’t even try to pretend to care about it.

“Hey, Jazz! Is there anything here to eat?” Not hearing a response back, Danny groaned and started going through the cabinets on his own, scrounging up some chips and a can of soda that would have to do for the night. “So much for going shopping today.” He understood that Jazz was busy with finals coming up, but he was pretty sure she was either starving herself or had snacks squirreled away in her room - which she probably did. She had a mini-fridge, after all.

Grabbing a few notebooks and pages off the mess on the kitchen table, Danny stomped his way up the steps and fell into the chair at his desk, setting everything out as he finished off his chips. It took hardly five minutes before he realized it was too quiet and his focus was nowhere near his homework.

Every few seconds he kept thinking about how they were almost out of food or how he hadn’t seen Jazz for almost three days besides a quick hello and goodbye in the morning. If it wasn’t that then it was the half dozen ghost attacks that he had dealt with alone this week. Three of his teachers had given him extra work on top of his makeup homework due to missing so many classes, as well, and Danny was honestly stressed enough that he just wanted a few seconds where everything was under his control.

It turned out that being sixteen was no easier than being fourteen and was, in fact, proving to be worse.

Turning back to stare at his homework that had tire marks in some places and was ripped in others, Danny finally gritted his teeth and shoved the books to the floor before standing up.

“Man, forget this.” Digging for that feeling inside of him that he had only ever been able to describe as ‘cold,’ Danny dug his fingers in and grabbed a hold of it, bright light moving around him before he was falling through the floors to land in the basement of Fenton Works.

After a small moment to make sure no alarms were about to go off, Danny launched himself into the portal with more aggression than he probably should have.

He expected to see familiar shades of green that overpowered everything else, but instead what he got was soft shades of blue and purple and the background sound of hundreds of clocks all ticking in time with one another.

“Nice of you to drop in.” The familiar voice was the only reason Danny didn’t throw an ectoblast, but it didn’t stop him from glaring up at the ghost who apparently oversaw all of time. “It’s been a long week, hasn’t it?”

Just like that, Danny felt all his anger drain out of him as he slumped against what he realized was an overstuffed armchair that was a soft, faded purple. Looking up to Clockwork, Danny sighed quietly, “You have no idea.”

“Well, I have a few ideas,” Clockwork chuckled, flying over to settle on a couch that was only a few feet away. It was the same color and looked just as plush and overstuffed as the armchair. “I’d be willing to hear more, however, if you want.”

“It’s been absolute hell!” The words exploded out of Danny as he sat up, and he was feeling his energy spike around him as if his body was preparing itself for a ghost fight. “The ghosts never seem to stop, my parents pretty much abandoned us to ourselves, I haven’t seen Jazz leave her room in days, and my best friends are out of state and I’m left to not only protect the town but try to pretend like my entire life is somehow normal, which, you know, I’m not. I’m just the creepy little kid with creepy little powers-”

“Here I thought you liked to use your own words to describe things and not others’.” Startling slightly at that, Danny glanced up to see Clockwork was looking at him with an unimpressed look. “I believe we’ve both heard enough of what Penelope Spectra has to say on others.”

“Sorry,” Danny finally muttered after a few moments, slumping back down in his seat. It was easy to forget, but Clockwork had been working with him for almost two years, now. “Guess I’ve been a pretty poor mentee, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Clockwork had approached him with the offer to train him and teach him about the Ghost Zone, but Danny hadn’t expected to get as attached as he had. With the way his family had always been self-sufficient, Clockwork almost felt like another dad to him. “In fact, I was going to stay I’m rather proud of you.”

“Wait, what?” It took half a moment for Danny to zip over to Clockwork’s side on the couch, eyes narrowed as he stared at him. “If you’re just lying to make me feel better-”

“Daniel.” Clockwork’s lips pulled into a smirk, the ghost setting a gloved hand to rest on his head. “When have I ever lied to make you feel better?”

“I… Never, I guess.” Never being as in Clockwork could be brutally honest about some things - not that Danny hadn’t needed the words, at the time. “I’ve been barely holding on this week. How can that make you proud?”

“It’s precisely because you’ve been holding on.” Clockwork ruffled his hair and Danny couldn’t even begin to stop himself from relaxing at the gesture. “You’ve been facing challenge after challenge all on your own and yet you’ve kept pushing yourself back up each and every time.”

“Yeah, but, that’s not much.” Danny settled more on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at a random spot on the couch. “I mean, it’s not like I can stay down, can I?”

“Oh, Daniel. That’s precisely why you’ve become such an amazing hero.” Resisting the urge to look up at Clockwork’s words, Danny didn’t get a choice as fingers curled under his chin and lifted his head up to meet Clockwork’s gaze. For as much as his eyes were nothing but red, they still had always felt soft and caring. “You never let yourself give in - even when you want to.”

“No, but- I keep failing.” Danny slammed his eyes shut, not quite able to bring himself to meet Clockwork’s disappointed look when he realized what Danny was saying. “I’ve failed at everything this week.”

“And how have you failed?” Clockwork asked, as if he didn’t have the ability to see Danny’s past week in high definition on a mirror.

“I only just barely won my last two ghost fights and each time damage happened to the city or someone got hurt.” His eyes dragged open at the quiet laugh he heard.

“I believe Amity Park is used to getting hit a few times. As for the people, there was nothing more than a few bruises and scrapes. You also have won all your ghost fights - barely or not.”

“I can’t figure out any of my homework and I dropped it all in the road today. Half of it is destroyed.” His teachers were going to kill him for that one.

“Accidents happen,” Clockwork said softly, Danny looking down to his left hand out of ingrained instinct - and ingrained pain. “That doesn’t mean we don’t learn from them, however, or become stronger from them.”

“Thanks, but I’m still screwed where half the teachers are sick of my excuses,” Danny snorted, not letting his eyes return to Clockwork’s. “I’ve… I’ve barely seen my friends and family for the last week.”

“Yes, that one is difficult… How has that made you fail in anything, however?” How hadn’t it made him fail?

“I’m- I should be okay without them, shouldn’t I? I’m a sixteen-year-old hero. I should be okay if my friends and family are all busy for a few days and I’m left on my own. I shouldn’t just- I shouldn’t just fall apart like this. It’s stupid!”

“Daniel.” Clockwork guided his gaze upwards again, serious expression on his face - serious, but not disappointed. “I would be worried if you were alright when left on your own.” Yeah, no, that response didn’t make sense. “I know you’re about to hate what I’m saying to you, but you are still a child, Daniel.”

“But-!” He was Danny Phantom! He was a hero and he was responsible for making sure it was everyone else who got to be a kid.

“But you’re growing and learning and becoming better from your mistakes. That’s the very definition,” Clockwork laughed, finally letting Danny’s chin go to instead place a hand on his shoulder. “The people we care for and who in turn care for us are pillars for us. They hold us up when we need a break from the weight and they remind us why we keep going.”

“That doesn’t mean I should just suddenly fall apart when they’re all gone, though. That means I’m-”

“That means you’re tired, and upset, and need rest. Nothing more and nothing less.” The hand on his shoulder gave a light squeeze and Clockwork’s voice dropped into something softer. “Daniel… You aren’t Atlas. You weren’t born to carry the world on your shoulders.”

Danny stayed quiet this time, wincing when he heard Clockwork’s quiet sigh. When he felt something fall on his shoulders, he blinked as he saw it was Clockwork’s cloak. “What- What’s this for?”

“I can’t help with bringing your pillars back to you, but I can at least give you some time to rest from carrying all that weight.” The cloak was cool and soft against him, the cloth brushing against his cheek and making him think of newly washed blankets still fresh from the dryer. “My Citadel flows against time differently than what you’re used to, but that means it allows you a few hours of just resting without any time lost.”

“And… you’d really let me stay here for no other reason than just to- To sleep?” Danny leaned back a bit and the cloak draped more around him. While it was loose on Clockwork, it seemed to utterly dwarf Danny. It was like a blanket and, if he focused, he could smell something that reminded him of a clean, fresh scent that made his shoulders relax before he could think it through.

“I have never had a problem with you staying here for any reason, Daniel, nor will I. Whether you need advice, training, someone to talk to, or even just a place to rest, my Citadel is always here for you.”

“Alright, jeez, there’s no need to be so sappy.” The words tumbled out of him more than he wanted to, Danny pulling the hood over his head and shivering as he felt… safe. “How long do I have?”

That familiar hand landed on the back of Danny’s head and gently pushed him down, Danny not bothering to fight the feeling as his head was guided to lay on Clockwork’s lap, the ghost tugging the hood more around him before answering quietly, “As long as you need.”

“Hey, Clockwork?” For a few seconds - or maybe forever - there was a peaceful silence in the room as the clocks created a soft sound that filled up any white noise that could bring back Danny’s thoughts. His eyes, still barely open, caught sight of the room that was made of light blues and faded purples - soft colors that went completely against the harsh green of the Ghost Zone and the bright colors of the human world.

Staring at the sight for as long as he wanted, Danny hid a smile against the inside of the hood as he turned around and curled up more against Clockwork, body losing all its tension.

“Thank you.”

                                                                    ::

When Danny woke up, it was soft and gently - not at all like the violent jerking he was used to. There was no blaring of the alarm clock, no lingering unease from a nightmare, and no one pounding on his door. It was just an opening of the eyes and the realization that there was a beam of golden sunset light across his face.

Yawning and pushing himself up, and mentally grumbling about the short winter days, Danny blinked at seeing it was still only around five in the afternoon. He had apparently laid down to rest, but he felt the best he had ever felt, and he had only gotten home half an hour ago and had sat down in his room five minutes ago.

When he moved and felt soft material brush against his skin, Danny looked down to see an oversized purple cloak that was snugly wrapped around him. It didn’t take much longer than a few seconds to remember his trip to Clockwork’s and the talk they had.

“He could’ve taken the cloak back,” Danny finally muttered to himself, standing up and yawning wide enough to crack his jaw as he shuffled to his desk. What he saw instead of his torn notebooks was his homework and textbooks neatly ordered and made to look as new as the day they had been made, a single sheet showing him what chapters were needed for what assignments as well as a list of helpful study reminders. Next to it was a plate of warm food and a bottle of water that was still cold to the touch.

Falling into his chair and watching the sunlight fill up his entire room and warm his skin, Danny leaned his head back and gave a quiet laugh as he curled his fingers into the cloak with a tight grip.

Having a second dad who could control time wasn’t so bad, it seemed. 

[fresh-outta-jams]

Down Here

Down Here

Hoseok x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Word Count: Somewhere between 2k and 3k?

Genre: The fluffiest fluff I could fluff. 

Your pencil dragged across a scrap of paper as you sat bored in your Human Relations course. You already knew all of this crap. Your parents were human, for God’s sake.

All of this because you slept in on Opt-Out day.

It was the first day of class, and you could already tell this was going to be the worst experience of your life. The syllabus was...underwhelming ro say the least, and as the other students drifted into the classroom, you didn’t pay them much attention, instead focusing on the drawing of a bird in the corner of your scrap page.

“Excuse me?” Someone asked you. You looked around, tugging an earbud out of your ear. No one was there. A ghost maybe? An invisible student? In the Magus College for the Supernatural, it wouldn’t surprise you. “Down here.”

Oh. There. Standing on the floor, about six inches high, was a type of student you had yet to encounter. A Leprechaun.

This was the first year that Magus had welcomed students from SmallWorld, the sector where all of the smallest magical creatures lived. But since the school had finally gotten a grant from the Magical Council, they could afford the supplies and magic supplements to accommodate students of all shapes and sizes. This included the Merfolk and the Leprechauns, mostly.

“Hi.” You smiled down at him. He was still too far away for you to make out any distinct features, and it was rude to just reach down and pick him up, so you waited for permission.

“Hi! I’m Hoseok. I was wondering if you could help me up onto the table.”

“Sure.” You reached down carefully and extended your hand so he could climb up into it. And then, making sure not to move him too fast, you set him on the table’s smooth wooden surface. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you.”

“Thank you.” He smiled.

You took a good look at him now that he was a bit closer. Curly red hair stuck out of the green snapback sitting on his head and his green hoodie had a clover on the front of it. His smile was bright, grinning at you so brilliantly that it rivaled the sun. Dimples were tucked carefully into his cheeks and his eyes were warm and brown. Friendly, you decided, as Leprechauns tended to be.

“I’m new here.” He tried to strike up conversation. “First day in the big world.”

“Must be scary.”

He stood six inches tall. And until the growth pills from the Department of Magic Services got delivered, he would be stuck down there. The last newsletter had estimated at least a month of backup due to all of the sudden demand for temporary growth from the citizens of SmallWorld.

“It’s not so bad.” Hoseok shrugged and pulled a tiny little notebook out of his tiny little backpack, sitting on the desk cross-legged. “It’s just hard to make friends from down here sometimes is all.”

“You know, they have SmallWorld chairs up there. Do you want me to grab you one?” You offered.

“Would you?” He asked, a smile lighting up his face.

“I’ll be right back.” You got up and walked to the front of the room, where they kept the SmallWorld furniture in a little box. You dug around a bit, looking for the best chair and desk you could find before returning and setting them up next to Hoseok.

“Thank you so much!” Hoseok grinned and set his things on the small desk, settling in for class. “I’ve been looking forward to this course. I don’t know much about humans.”

“I do. So I can help you out if you have any questions.”

“I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but...what are you, exactly?” Hoseok looked over you, his little brown eyes skimming over your features. He couldn’t find anything that distinctly set you apart as something supernatural. Usually there was something. Pointed ears, strangely colored eyes, fangs, gills, anything. But you looked so utterly normal. So...human. And yet, you couldn’t be if you were going to Magus.

“I don’t know yet.” You sighed, shrugging. It was the truth.

You had no idea why the letter had come to your home, detailing the school you were now attending. But when you had gone on their website to find out more, the welcome video explained that only people with magic in them could see the school’s advertising. Only those with The Sight even knew the school existed, felt the pull to check out more, and most importantly, got accepted.

Your parents were mortal. They swore you weren’t adopted. And the further you dug into your ancestry, hoping to find answers, you just stumbled upon dead ends. Mortals as far as the eye could see, aside from your grandmother, whose past was unknown due to HER adoption.

“I’m something, I suppose. But for now, I’m just...mortal.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll ace this class.” Hoseok beamed.

You couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe, just maybe, this class wouldn’t be as bad as you feared it would be.

***

A few months later, you found yourself not only acing Human Relations, as Hoseok had predicted, but you had found a new friend along the way. Hoseok had latched onto you. Not that you minded. Someone had to help him navigate the great big world, and who better than you to show him the way?

Besides, a bunch of your classes were together anyway. And in the ones you didn’t share, he had his roommate, a glittering Fae named Jimin.

Hoseok loved dancing, you discovered. He danced all the time, and more than just the little jigs the Leprechauns were known for. It was really good dancing in mortal styles. Hip hop, mostly. Sometimes when you studied together with some of your other friends in Mortal Studies, he would start dancing across the textbooks, trying to get the rest of you to take a break. Then you would laugh and grab some snacks, giving into his playful antics and silly smile.

You made sure he got to his room every night safe and sound and let him ride your shoulder to class first thing most mornings. You protected him from the trouble-making creatures that loved to pick on those from SmallWorld, scaring them off with your protective glare every time they even so much as reached out for Hoseok, trying to pick him up.

Hoseok appreciated you more than you knew. He wished he could convey how much he really cared about you in words, but he always came up short, pun intended. He tried to not have a crush on you. He did. But it was impossible. You were just too good to him.

He had met a number of normal-sized people in his brief time at Magus, and out of all of them, you were the only one who treated him like he was normal. Never did you mention the obvious size barrier that stood between him and you. You never called him short or small or any of the other teasing words the others would use. And every time you interacted with him, you were so sweet, so careful. And your hands were always warm when you held him in them.

And yet, you didn’t treat him like he was made of porcelain like everyone else seemed to either. You weren’t afraid to initiate contact with him like the occasional pinkie-high-five or stealing his hat to mess up his hair, just like you did with your other mortal-sized friends. Things like that made his little heart race with unspoken desire.

Jimin would lovingly tease the little Leprechaun about how rosy his cheeks were when you dropped him off in their shared dorm room or the giddy smile that would accompany his words about you. His head might not have reached the tips of the grass blades in the courtyard, but he had his head in the clouds nonetheless.

“God, my back is itchy.” You complained, attempting to rub it against the tree you were sitting by. Hoseok was perched on your knee, his little textbook open in his lap and a curious look in his warm brown eyes.

“What did you do, lay in poison ivy?” He asked, watching you try and reach the spot between your shoulder blades to no avail.

“I don’t even know. It wasn’t itchy this morning, but I feel like my back is on fire.” You huffed in annoyance and refocused on the task at hand: getting Hoseok to pass Human Relations. He had been...distracted in class lately.  

“I wish the growth pills would come in faster. Then I could itch it for you.” He wished aloud, not realizing you had heard him until you smiled softly and tucked your hair behind your ears.

“It’s soon now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” He looked up at you, but you were focused on the book in your hands. “Not soon enough, though…” He was glad you hadn’t heard that last part. To be entirely honest, he wasn’t sure what you would think if you knew he liked you. “(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“Do...did you put on eyeshadow today?”

“No, why?” You chuckled a little bit.

“Your cheeks are sparkly, and sometimes when you put on eyeshadow, it drifts onto…” He swallowed thickly as you looked down at him, finally meeting his eyes. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you. “Your lips. I mean cheeks! I meant cheeks.”

“Are you okay, Hoseok?” Your voice was so soft, so gentle.

His heart was racing and he feared if you kept looking down at him with those sparkling eyes, he was going to explode. People called Leprechauns greedy, but he would have given all of the gold in the world to be able to hold you in his arms in that moment. To pull you onto his lap and kiss you until his lips went numb. Or even, really, just to hold your hand.

“I’m fine.” He nodded. “I promise.”

***

A few days later, Hoseok was at the fountain in the center of the courtyard, pacing back and forth. A rose that was taller than he was bobbed up and down as he carried it around the rim of the sparkling water that filled the air with rainbow mist, water droplets caught in rays of the sun.

The Leprechaun had been hoping to catch his friend Jin, a merman, here, but it looked like he was hanging out at the lake. It was a shame. He really needed some advice. Namely, how to ask out someone that was ten times his size.

“Aww look, is little Hoseok finally going to ask out his mortal?” a taunting voice cooed. Before he could do anything, Hoseok found himself in a large hand, rough calluses rubbing against him as he tried to wriggle from its grasp.

“Don’t call her that! She has just as much right to be here as you do!”

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll step on you one day? It’s a big world and you’re just one little man.”

“Shut up!” Hoseok choked on tears as the bully tugged all of the fears he had kept buried inside himself to the surface. “Put me down!”

“Oh, does the Leprechaun want to go for a swim?” The student holding him, a particularly mean-spirited jock of a demigod, adjusted his grip, instead dangling Hoseok over the fountain by the fabric of his green crewneck.

“Give. Me. The. Leprechaun.”

Hoseok almost couldn’t bring his eyes to look at you as he hung there helplessly. You were standing fifteen feet away. Fifteen feet that felt like miles. Your warm welcoming hand was outstretched for him, waiting like his cozy bed after a long day. The other hand was raised in defence...or attack, and floating within the confines of your fingers was a ball of what Hoseok could only assume was pure sunshine.

It almost hurt his eyes to look at the light you were producing, but he couldn’t take them off of you. Something about the expression on your face. The anger at the muscled jock pinching his shirt between his large fingers, the fear for his safety, and the warmth that was always written into your features when it came to Hoseok.

“And what are you going to do if I don’t, princess?” The demigod scoffed, trying to hide the fear of whatever you were. Because he had never seen someone with powers like those. And with the anger that was so obviously causing your fingers to tremble, your eyes to narrow, and your magic to finally come to the surface, he was terrified of what you could do.

“I honestly don’t know.” You shrugged, wiggling the set of fingers surrounding the burst of energy floating, glowing, growing beside you. “But I’d like to find out.”

“Here.” He took a few quick steps forward and dropped Hoseok into your waiting hand. “Take him. I don’t want him anyway.”

As he began to walk away, you unleashed the magic that had gathered, pushing the stupid jock into the water with a loud *SPLASH*. The rest of the students in the courtyard took note: don’t mess with the scary mortal(?)’s Leprechaun.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, both of your hands cradling him now that the second hand was free of magic.

“Yeah.” Hoseok was still collecting his thoughts and trying to slow his heart rate, his elbows resting on your palms and his eyes squeezed shut as he inhaled and exhaled a few long breaths. “I’m fine.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. It’s my fault. I was late and I-”

“Really, I’m okay. I promise.” Hoseok tried to be reassuring, but he was still a bit shaken up. Too shaken up to fully process what had even happened until he finally opened his brown eyes and spotted the pointed ears jutting out of your (h/c) locks. “Are you…”

“Changing into something? Yeah, that’s why I was late. My back is getting worse. I had to go to the nurse and get some cream for it.” You sighed. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I…” Hoseok looked back at the edge of the fountain and pointed, a cue for you to set him down. So you did, gently letting him step off of your hands and onto the marble where the rose sat. He held it out to you, a nervous look in his eyes. He gulped, bracing for the worst. “I was...I was wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out this weekend. Just the two of us.”

“Like a date?” You asked, sitting on the stone path in front of the fountain so you were almost at his eye level.

“No! Well, um, I mean…” He looked up at you and tilted his head to the side, grinning that brilliant smile you couldn’t help but smile at. “Yes. Like a date.”

You giggled. “What time are you picking me up?”

“Is that a yes?” He gasped, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“I would love to go on a date with you.” You stated certainly. “I was...I was actually wondering how long it would take you to ask.”

Hoseok pretended he hadn’t been agonizing over this very conversation for months, so much relief and happiness coursing through his tiny body. He laughed, unable to wipe the smile off of his face no matter how hard he tried. “Well, I figured it was about time.”

***

“Yoongi!” Hoseok knocked on the warlock’s door, praying that he would be able to hear him. “Yoongi!”

“Aish, what do-” Yoongi opened the door of his dorm and looked out into the hallway, but there was no one standing there. “Hearing things again…”

“Down here!” Hoseok cupped his hands around his mouth and Yoongi’s sharp violet gaze found the small Leprechaun standing there.

“Oh. You.” Yoongi bent down and let Hoseok hop into his hands. “Do you need something or are you just here to interrupt my brewing?”

“I need a growth spell.” Hoseok stated with certainty, his hands folded behind his back and that innocent look in his eyes.

“First of all, it’s a potion, not a spell. Second of all, I hope you brought some faerie dust because that is not easy to come by.”

“Better.” Hoseok motioned Jimin forward, and the faerie glided down the hall, his glittering wings shifting with every step. Hoseok envied Jimin for his ability to change size whenever he wanted to. Sure, faeries were small sometimes, but most of them preferred to remain at mortal size, as Jimin was now.

“You’re lucky I just finished my mid-term potion.” Yoongi signed opening the door a little wider to let the two of them in. “Don’t mind the mess.”

“Did you do it?” Jin asked excitedly from his tank on one side of the room. His tail was submerged, swaying back and forth through the crystal waters confined in the glass. His arms rested on the top of the tank, his chin sitting on his hands.

“She said yes!” Hoseok danced his little happy dance, stepping on the soft skin of Yoongi’s palms. “But I want to be big for our date.”

“When is your date?” Yoongi asked, setting Hoseok on a stack of books sitting on the edge of the desk where Yoongi’s cauldron was perched.

“Tomorrow.”

“Wow, thanks for the heads-up.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Do you know how long growth potions take to brew?”

“I’m really sorry.” Hoseok apologized, crossing his legs and looking up at the warlock with the messy white hair.

Yoongi’s eyeliner was smudged and his eyes were half-closed. He took a long sip of his coffee, a silent agreement to help the Leprechaun despite the exhaustion he was already feeling from having stayed up all night to finish his mid-term project.

“Yeah, yeah.” A flick of the warlock’s wrist summoned flames around the base of the bronze cauldron sitting on his desk. The water inside it began to simmer, steam billowing from its surface. “Give me the faerie dust.”

***

The boys had stayed up all night with Yoongi, helping him brew the potion that would make Hoseok mortal-sized. As soon as it was done, the warlock began carefully ladling the glittery yellow liquid into a bottle.

“Now, this is going to taste disgusting,” Yoongi warned him, his violet eyes flashing with pride in another perfectly brewed potion. “But it’ll take effect immediately and it’ll last until midnight.”

“You hear that, Cinderella?” Jimin teased, a grin gracing his sparkly cheeks. “Midnight.”

“I can work with midnight.” Hoseok reached up for the bottle eagerly, despite the fact that it was taller than him.

“You have to drink all of this.” Yoongi lifted the bottle away from the Leprechaun, looking at him warningly. “So I suggest taking your time.”

“Okay, okay.” Hoseok nodded, still reaching up.

Yoongi handed the bottle to Jimin, who was waiting with an amused grin and an outstretched hand. “Here, you take care of him. I’m taking a nap.”

“Are you ready?” Jimin checked.

“I’ve been ready my whole life.” Hoseok replied, bracing himself for the changes that were about to take place.

Jimin gently lowered the small bottle to the Leprechaun’s waiting lips. Hobi took a few large sips of the sour liquid. It tasted horrible, like sauerkraut swirled in lemon juice, but he kept drinking through the grimace that overtook his expression.

“Woah, slow down, Hobi.” Jimin tilted the bottle away, giving the small red-headed boy a chance to process. “You’ll get sick.”

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” Hoseok insisted, grabbing the mouth of the bottle and pulling it to his lips, sipping more of the burning concoction greedily. His stomach hurt, bubbling and churning in retort of the foreign substance he was filling himself with. But he didn’t care. He had to keep going. For you.

“Maybe you should take a break, Hoseok.” Jin piped up, his tail flicking to the side as he tilted his head, looking down at the small creature.

Hoseok batted a small hand at the comment. The golden liquid was dribbling from the corners of his mouth and he felt light-headed, but at this point, he didn’t care.

In the course of an hour, Hobi managed to drink the entire thing, only stopping for brief breaks here and there. And now that he was finally done, he felt awful. He stumbled across Yoongi’s desk, falling off of the edge and into Jimin’s waiting hands. Hoseok was so dizzy, he was convinced he was in a nest made of hands, and when Jimin finally set him down on a pillow on the floor so he couldn’t further hurt himself, he collapsed into a green-covered heap, lying on the plushy surface like a starfish, all of his limbs extended as he exhaled a long breath.

“I think we killed him.” Jimin poked at the unconscious Leprechaun tentatively.

For a few concerning moments, Hoseok laid there motionless. And then he let out a pained groan as every fiber of his being tingled. And THEN, finally, everything around him began to shrink. His limbs felt like jello as they stretched and elongated and then suddenly, he bolted upright, looking over his large hands that rivaled the size of Jimin’s. He carefully stood, his legs shaking, but soon enough, he found his sense of balance in this strange new world.

“Are you okay?” Jin asked from his tank, laughing a little as the mortal-sized Leprechaun explored his surroundings.

“I…” Hoseok stumbled to the full length mirror sitting in the corner of the room. “I’m so big...” he whispered, looking around at the room that had been huge to him only moments before. He stood even taller than Jimin, who looked at him curiously, grinning a grin that reached his warm brown eyes.

“You could say that again.” Jin laughed, amused.

“I need flowers.” Hoseok snapped back into sobriety, suddenly remembering why he wanted to be this big in the first place. “Jimin, can you-”

“There are some in the greenhouse.” Jimin put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, Hobi. You’ve only got twelve hours left. Better get going.”

***

You zipped up the back of your pretty yellow sundress. It was cute. Sweetheart neckline, the skirt just brushing your knees, white flowers spread across the soft fabric. It was perfect. You looked perfect. Aside from the angry red marks on your back. You had put on cream every day and night like the campus nurses had said to, but nothing helped. It still burned and itched like nothing else.

But you couldn’t think about that now. You had a date, and any second, he would show up for the picnic you had packed. So, to cover up the red marks, you threw on a white sweater and checked your phone. Any minute now, he would-

There was a knock at the door. Your heart was racing too fast for you to notice the knock was louder than logically it should have been if Hoseok was at the door. You opened the door anyway, expecting to look down to find your six-inch-tall boyfriend. Instead, you saw an average size foot in a familiar pair of custom green Nikes.

“Up here.” It was Hoseok’s voice, but you didn’t believe it until you brought your eyes up to his. God, he was always handsome, but now that he was your size, you were able to notice all of the little details that made him breathtakingly striking.

“I...You’re…” You stammered, trying to form a halfway intelligent sentence as your cheeks reddened to the point of no return. You were officially flustered.

Thankfully, before you could say anything stupid, you were cut off by warm lips, a hand framing your face, while the other wound around your back, the bouquet of roses in his hand long forgotten as he tugged your body closer to his, through the doorway and into the hall. Your fingers tangled themselves in his red waves and you basked in his warmth. God, how you had craved this.

“(Y/N),” he murmured against your lips. You hummed a response and pulled him back into your room where wandering eyes couldn’t see. Finally, he came up for air, absolutely intoxicated by the taste of your lips, the way you smelled, the feeling of your fingers buried in his hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted-”

You pulled him in for another long kiss followed by a pair of quick ones. “I think I have some idea.”

“Can I just kiss you for twelve hours instead?” He whispered, brushing the hair out of your face, revealing sparkly cheeks that he should have realized were familiar by now, but he was too captivated to put the details together.

“What, and let the picnic go to waste?” You teased, pecking his soft lips. “Ohhh, it’s tempting. But I am hungry.”

“As long as we can...continue later.” He kissed your forehead, pulling your arms around his waist before wrapping his around you. It felt so good to hold you. Indescribable. He let out a long sigh, relishing in the feeling before finally letting go so you could get something to eat.

He turned around and crouched, holding his arms behind him: the universal sign for ‘hop on my back’. So you did, his large hands holding your thighs up and the picnic basket dangling from your hands in front of him.

“I don’t know how I lived without this.” You kissed his cheek.

“I don’t know how I lived without you.” He replied before making a break for the courtyard, screaming all the way. You did indeed love his sound effects. Just another beautiful aspect of the Leprechaun who hadn’t stolen any gold, but had somehow stolen something much more valuable: your heart.

***

Later that night, at 11:59, Hoseok sat on your bed in your dorm, kissing you greedily, trying to take every kiss he could before that clock changed. You didn’t mind one bit, kissing him just as relentlessly.

And when the clock struck twelve, he pulled away, groaning as the potion began to wear off. You began groaning for a different reason. The angry red marks on your back burned. Badly.

You tugged off the sweater hiding your shoulders and touched the marks with tentative fingers, but it only stung more. You squeezed your eyes shut as they brimmed with pain-filled tears.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asked, trying to ignore the fact that slowly, your room was getting bigger.

“No.” You replied through gritted teeth. You curled into your pillows, crying as your back felt like it was tearing open. Hoseok supposed he should have seen this coming. All of the signs were leading here, and yet, he had been clueless this entire time. It wasn’t until the glittering golden wings ripped through and your pain finally subsided that he saw you for what you truly were.

You were a faerie. A recessive gene that had somehow found its way to you, even if it was a little late.

“I…” You fluttered your new wings a few times, trying out the odd new extensions. It was so weird. They were a part of you. They always had been, hiding inside you all of this time, but now you could move them, like an extra pair of arms. Glittering dust floated off of you in clouds, as it did with Jimin, drifting around wherever he went.

A Faerie. Of course. It made sense, all things considered. And as you ran the list of powers faeries were said to have, you stopped at one, a smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know how this was supposed to work, but you tried, willing your newfound powers to do what you wanted them to.

And then you were Hoseok’s height again, standing on a huge bed.

“I think this relationship just got a lot easier.” You grinned, pulling his arms around your waist and resting your head against his chest so you could listen to his hammering heart.

He held you so close and so tight, relief washing through him. Moments like these, where he got to hold you, were treasures, each of them worth their weight in gold, and there was no way he was going to take it for granted any time soon.

Link to Sequel in Masterlist

[muva--milaje-blog]

librarian.

t'challa x black!reader (college au)

an: this was requested by @xclusvnani. thank you so much for requesting this. had a lot of fun writing this.

reader takes a trip to the library everyday just to see the handsome librarian t’challa.

warnings: fluff, sexual mentions, mentions death

"Y/N, you need a break, baby." Your mother, on the other end of this telephone conversation, pleads with you. Her naturally worrisome spirit coupled with her missing you and needing her only child around her is the basis for her call. Life just had not been the same for your mother since the death of your grandparents. "I am so proud of you. And, I know that you are taking those classes this summer so that you can graduate a semester early but I think you should come home. Even if it is for a weekend."

This is not, and will not, be the last time you hear your mother pleading for you to come home. The drive home from the college campus is approximately three hours. Not too long of a drive. However, you are on a mission to graduate from undergrad as soon as possible and get your Bachelor's degree. You welcome the calls from your mother daily. You miss her just as much as she misses you. You two have an extremely close relationship because it has always been just the two of you (and your grandparents). The ass that is supposedly your father skipped out before you were born. Your mother raised you as best as she could in that small ass two bedroom apartment in your hometown. As small as the apartment is, it is home. She worked a couple of jobs just to help you get to where you are now. The first couple of semesters, your tuition was paid for in full due to your mother's dedicated work ethic. It is only right that you work just as hard in your college classes.

"Mommy, I know...thank you, but I know." You assure her. Most of the time, you wish you were somewhere else. Rather than living on campus during the boring Summer semester and taking three classes, you'd rather be somewhere tropical, festive, and surrounded by your girls. Hell, at this point, you would take your childhood bedroom as a vacation spot. "Classes are almost over in July, then I'll be home. Just me and you, the couch, and our favorite movies." Your faves included almost every movie with Angela Bassett.

Your mother practically squealed and sighed in delight at the idea. She wanted to further your daily phone conversation but you told her that you had to go. You were heading to your college's library, your favorite spot at this school. You told her you loved her and hung up right before you walked in, pass the metal detectors, and straight to your regular location: the second floor. Due to the lack of students on campus for the summer, you knew that your regular spot would be available. There was a small nook on the library's second floor that included a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. It is your hideaway from the rest of the library. You like to read, study, and write in that area. Also, it's where you can usually locate the man of your dreams as your friend Brie likes to refer to him as. As much as you do not want to admit to yourself and your friends, he is another reason you frequent the library.

You noticed him last Fall. He was following around one of the librarians, taking in information and nodding profusely. From what you could tell, he was eager to learn. Whenever he had a question or concern, he pressed his lips tightly together, quirked his eyebrows, and squinted his eyes. Whenever he learned something new, he nodded his head and smiled. It is a sexy, crooked smile. Of course, you know all of this because in between your reading, studying, and writing, you watch him. You noticed him way before he noticed you. You were sitting at your favorite spot when he breezed pass you with several books in his arms.

"Hello," He said to you. You looked upward at him from your position on the couch and nearly melted into a puddle that matched the one that was growing in between your thighs just at the sight of him. That accent, the way he said hello, you were taken aback. You were loss for words. He seemed to wait for you to say hello before he walked away.

"Hi," Your voice squeeked. You were immediately embarrassed. He did not laugh at you like you thought he would, he just smiled at you before walking away. You wanted to creep into a corner and disappear.

He would come over and say hello to you whenever he saw you. After the fifth time, he finally came over to you to say more than just a hello. But you couldn't hear him. You were listening to sweet R&B love songs of the 90s and 2000s through your earphones. Toni Braxton was making you miss a lover you never had when you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was him, Mr. Librarian, a nickname your friends dubbed him. You extracted your earphones from your ears, "Hi...?"

He smiled downward, in your direction, "Hi. I apologize for disturbing you during your studies but I wanted to ask a question,"

You thought he was going to ask you on a date. Maybe you two could have coffee together, preferably at the campus coffee shop. You are in love with their vanilla cappuccinos. However, he just wanted to know your reasoning for constantly returning to this same spot in the library. "Oh, well, I am an English major with a minor in Africana Studies. Most of the books that I need to use are in this section." You shrug. You did not let him know that his cosistent appearance in this section was another reason for your predictable return to this same nook.

"Africana Studies, eh?" He seemed pleased with your choice of study. "May I ask, why did you chose Africana Studies as an area of study?" He quirked his brows, pressed his lips together, and his eyes squinted at you. You play with the ends of your braids to calm the newfound nervousness. At this point, he sat down in one of the chairs.

You steadied your nervousness. He has an aura that commands your undivided attention. But, he gave you his undivided attention. "Why not be verse in the past, present, and future of my people? Black people, black culture, black histoty, blackness in its entirety is so rich. There is much that we know now but I'm sure there is much more that we have to learn." Any hint of nervousness you had detered. "So to answer your question, it was a necessary choice."

The smile that graced his lips did not falter. His smile was contagious. His smile, in turn, made you smile. And every time you saw him, your lips automatically curved into one. You two would have conversations about life on campus (including where are the best places to get good food), areas of study, and the library. You found out that he is a Graduate student studying International Relations. He is working in the library for financial reasons but also, he thoroughly enjoys literature. His love for literature began as a child. His mother forced him to read various literary texts to have a rich education and understanding of points of view that were similar and different than his. His father agreed that it would make him a better man and a better leader once he enters into the politics after college. When you found out his name, T'Challa Udaku, you had to know more about him.

You tried to Google search his name but nothing too juicy came up. He has a twitter where he discusses politics specifically foreign policy, soccer, threads with friends from back home, and how much he misses home. There was nothing hotepish. From what you could sumise, he does not currently have a girlfriend. He seemed to have threads with a someone named Nakia but those threads were older. Funny enough, you were able to find his sister. She seems like a jokester. You assume she probably makes fun of her brother but loves him dearly.

You dug a little deeper and asked your friend, Tiff, if she could find anything on him for you. Tiff was your roommate during your freshman year. You two have a sistership. She works in one of the university's offices. Simple enough, she had a way of looking at T'Challa's file. No it was not right but her helping you out was for research purposes. She could not provide much detail but that he is twenty eight years old, he's an International Student, and he attended school in England for his undergraduate studies. "And he is fine as hell. I see why you are stalking...I mean conducting research."

You learned so much about him during your conversations. You are thirsty and eager to learn more about him so you would find yourself in the library, looking for him. You figured out his work schedule on your own. You knew when he would clock in and out of his shifts.Your attention bounces around the second floor for him. You do not immediately go to your nook. However, he is nowhere in sight. You let out a frustrating sigh and venture over to your normal spot. As you approach, you notice him sitting in one of the chairs next to the couch. He is intently reading a novel: Chinua Achebe's A Man of the People. You recommended this book to him. There were two to-go coffee cups from the campus coffee shop on the table. The adrenaline that pumped inside you, calmed down. You cannot help but to smile at Mr. Librarian.

Your fingers tap his shoulder. He does not flinch. Instead, he looks up at you with a coolness that cannot be unmatched. "Y/N, hi."

"Hi, T'Challa. 'Got started on the novel already?" You sit down on your usual spot on the couch. You place your backpack next to you.

"I thought it was imperative. The way you described the novel, it was thrilling. I can already see such from the first couple of pages."

"Achebe was a genius," You grin. You can feel T'Challa's eyes search you. You catch a glimpse of him looking at your face, then your body, and back up to your face. You let him do so without any disturbance. At some point his stare made you nervous, now you lowkey bask in it. You crave it.

"I can already tell. Thank you for the recommendation. It is much needed to level out my course work and my position here. As a thank you, I went to the coffee shop. Vanilla cappuccino, right?"

He hands you one of the coffee cups. You take it, excitedly. Although it is summer, and it is hot, you will not deny yourself the flavor of a vanilla cappucino. You hum at the taste of the vanilla when you take a sip. "Thank you, T'Challa, you did not have to do this,"

"It is my pleasure Y/N." He pauses for a brief moment. He seems to mentally contemplate his next words. "Any way that I can bring you pleasure, I wish to do so." You sense that his words have a double entendre. He wants to bring you pleasure in the simple things like making you laugh, smile, and buying coffee for you. And, he wants to provide you a pleasure that awakens the sexual goodess within you. He wants to taste you on the tip of his tongue and make you come undone by the feel of him sliding inside of you. Your eyes meet his again, and they are lustful and hungry.

You contemplate your next move: either you pounce on this advancement or you act as if this conversation is not occurring. As many times as you have come to the library to see him and conducted as much outside research on who T'Challa is, you are not going to let this opportunity pass you by. You reach for his hand, so mighty, grand, and rich of chocolate. All you can think about is if his dick has the same description. You are sure that you will find out soon. "Is there anywhere that we can go that is private?" As much as you want to have engage in a public library fantasy, you want to be careful. You did not want T'Challa to lose his job or for your business to float around campus despite the lack of students on campus at the moment.

He takes your hand, enveloping into his. You follow him with your backpack and coffee in tow. Nearby, there is a media center room. There is a sign on the door that says: DO NOT USE. THANK YOU! You used one of these rooms before while working on a group project. It is difficult to book one of these rooms. However, Mr. Librarian has the ultimate access. He unlocked the room with a key. You slide pass him, feeling the hardness of his body against yours. You cannot help but to bite down on your lip at the feeling. He locks the door behind him. "No one is going to come in here, right?"

"This room has been unoccupied in months." He assures you, he places his coffee cup and novel down on a nearby desk. You do the same with your things. You two stare at each other, daring each other to make the first movement. "Come here." He challenges you with a confident smirk.

You shake your head, "No. Come here."

"Are you challenging me, Y/N?" He inches closer to you. You playfully shrug. He is now grinning at you. "So, you can come to the library, almost daily, to see me but you cannot come to me now? I am sure that you are tending to your studies but I have an inkling that your studies are not the only reason you are here. Admit it; you are here to see me."

T'Challa knew what you were up to, you have been caught. You could not back down from his challenge. Actually, his questioning and accusations excites you. Mr. Librarian is nasty, in the best way possible. He is now in front of you, staring into your eyes. He grabs you by your waist and firmly wraps his arm around you. His hand rests on the small of your back, right above your ass. You can smell his cologne - faint but intoxicatingly clean. His skin is perfect, chocolate and flawless. You can smell the scent of honey in his perfectly defined coils. Damn, this man is a dream.

"I come here to study, T'Challa. And, yeah, I come here to see you too." You admit.

"I knew it!" He wags his finger, feeling righteous in his suspicions about you. He did not want to come out and ask you if you only came to the library just to visit him. It would be rude of him. But he decided to take a chance. He checked out your book recommendation, bought your favorite cup of coffee, and with the spirit of Bast decided to take make his feelings known. "Can I ask another question?"

"Go ahead," You say.

"Can I kiss you?" Your heart damn near beat out of your chest. This beautiful, sexy man just asked could he kiss you? You'd never been asked before, by a man, if he could kiss you.

"Yes, please," T'Challa lifts up your chin slowly. His eyes travel down your lips. He examines your lips before pressing his against yours gently. The kiss is passionate, slow and sensual. Your tongue encaptures his, moving back and forth, making its own beautiful rhythm. He parts from you but you need to feel him again.

"One more question?"

"Wha...hm? Yes, T'Challa?"

"May I take you out on a date?" You cannot help but to grin with glee. Who knew practically stalking....conducting thorough research on this man would ultimately pay off?

[banesbottombitch]

I am now in need of a part 4 for Henry gets a haircut, I NEED more of this Carly discourse, I am in love!!

It’s here, my child. This, man. I did like two drafts of this, and made an outline. It was hard to get through at first and I scrapped the first two versions before I got this one, which i love so much. I finally, FINALLY, got to use my favorite fanfiction trope. What is it? Read on and find out.

Word Count: +7,700

Warnings: Jealousy, Vic Scheming, Patrick being a decently threatening and intimidating guy. She/Her Reader. Extra warning; I proofread, but I’m still human, and I make mistakes.

Related Posts: Henry Gets a Haircut Tag

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“I’ve been dethroned.” You said tartly, together on the bleachers with Vic after school and hanging your legs limply off the furthest most left side of the row. You laid with your head in Vic’s lap, letting him mindlessly braid your hair while his eyes searched the football field for Belch, while your peers and friend barreled into each other like deranged bulls, shouts of triumph and pain reaching the two of you easily.

“You think so, Princess?” He murmured, kohl rimmed eyes finding the frown you wore. “Because methinks you’re on to something.”

A sigh, a shift of your shoulders, and he hummed, threading thin fingers through your locks and shaking loose your braids.

“What do you want to do about it?” Vic countered your silence with a prompt, one you had been mulling over for quite some time.

It was just the two of you, with Belch practicing on the field while Patrick had zipped off with the keys to the Trans-Am to grab some snacks and would be returning soon enough. Henry was MIA, and it was easy enough to guess where exactly he was at, but you didn’t dare think of the arm candy he was certainly banging in some pastel pink bedroom.

Henry had been pretty out of the way all week since the diner, his time spent with his new sweetheart or at home, avoiding you altogether and taking to hanging by his lonesome or just swinging by Belch’s once you had left. It hurt to know he was making a point to only enter a room if you had vacated it, but you guessed it made sense. The only time you really saw him was when Belch picked you up for school and dropped you off at home, or at lunch, where Henry left you to your own devices.

You knew the dynamic shifted that day at the diner, and it just became more painfully obvious as time went on, the tension between Henry and yourself made worse by your own spiteful and passive aggressive nature.

Carly’s presence at the lunch table, how Henry followed her around with an arm snaked at her hips and a hand tucked in her back pocket, or how she had started joining the crew for your days out and shenanigans after school made you feel the brunt of the change even more.

Everywhere you turned, any time you wanted to get away from the stress of classes and impending college applications, she was there. So pretty, so sweet, charming Henry and even getting Belch to soften up- then again, Belch was sure to let his guard down for any woman, he had always had a weak spot for girls, and was a perfect gentleman when it came down to it.

A week. A week of being inches from unloading another passive aggressive snarl on the girl and seven days of worrying when Henry would snap at you next.

Then came the next saturday, which had usually been the most looked forward day for any of you in the gang. It was the beginning of the weekend, obviously, but it also housed your personal favorite activity, Belch’s bonfires.

You let your saturday drone on, Vic in dance classes and Henry fucking around, the company of Belch and Patrick your shadows for that particular afternoon. Like usual, you three set it all up. It took a walk through the backwoods on Belch’s property and hauling a cooler, chairs and a couple blankets and pillows to get the job done, but you three were happy and all smiles by the time Vic arrived, dropped off by his parents and in his work out clothes.

Patrick was just then lighting the ‘bonfire’ when he showed up, which was really a rusted out fire pit Belch’s mom had picked up for him to roast marshmallows over and camp on the property with in the summers, but had instead served as the centerpiece of your saturday evenings, though a few smores had in fact been made with its use.

“That’s a lot of lighter fluid, ‘Trick.” Vic mused, coming to sit at your side and in a rickety but comfortable folding chair, settling in its polyester skin as if it were a throne.

“Fuck off, that’s how you make sure it fuckin’ lights, nimrod.” Patrick said, always on the defensive on his fire starting technique. You wouldn’t admit you thought the same, but the knowing smile you shared with Belch and Vic was proof enough that it could go unsaid.

Patrick squeezed the bottle of lighter fluid a few more times, drenching the firewood and kindling in the nasty smelling liquid before capping it and tossing the bottle aside for later use, digging in his pockets and procuring a pack of matches. He snapped one off, dragging it against the strip across the back, lighting the match with one try.

He flicked it into the pit, which roared to life instantly, the dark haired boy hovering over the flames for a moment, mesmerized by how they licked at the wood before you called out to him.

“Patrick, you’re gonna singe off your fucking eyebrows, back up you maniac.”

He rolled his eyes, but backed away and plopped down in a chair on your other side, taking his cigarettes out of the crappy mesh cup holder built into the chair and crossing his ankle over his knee, jiggling his leg in that antsy sort of way you had grown used to seeing.

“Where the fuck is Henry?” He asked aloud, sticking a cigarette between his lips and offering you the pack. You denied the offer with a quick wave of your hand, shrugging to his question.

“Dunno. Reggie, you heard anything?”

Belch lounged across the fire pit from you, nursing an ice cold beer and pulling out his phone. He typed in his passcode, scrolling a few times and frowned.

“Uh, yeah. He says he’ll be here in a bit. He’s running late.” Belch slipped his phone back in his pocket, chewing his lip, the action making you wonder if he was only giving the half truth.

Bending down beside your chair, you felt around for your backpack, unzipping it and digging past the contents. “Fine, then he can miss a chapter or two.”

“He’s gonna be pissed. We’re in the middle of the story.” Vic warned lightly, clapping his hands at Belch, who knew to throw the blond a can of beer.

You scoffed, taking out a worn and dog eared copy of ‘Dreamcatcher’ from your backpack, flipping through it until you landed on a familiar page and smoothing out the bent corner.

“Well he knows how it goes. I start reading when the sun begins to set.” You glanced up, noting how the sky was become an ocean of pastels, the hues of orange, pink, purple and blue bending across the horizon as the shadows of the fire lit the pages of your novel. “And it’s starting to set. So, tough shit, Bowers.”

You settled against the back of your chair, clearing your throat as Patrick lit his cigarette and Vic cracked open his beer, all eyes on you as you began to read.

You made it through a solid chapter before a rustling could be heard over the crackling fire, and you paused, a smile loose on your lips as you lifted your head, ready to greet Henry and welcome him to the story circle with open arms, to invite back that normalcy between the two of you and to catch him up on what he missed.

Instead, your smile dropped, and you had to clench your jaw tight from letting it drop open, watching as Henry stomped through the tall grass with Carly on his arm, her smile positively blinding.

“Wow.” You found yourself whispering lowly as they approached, Patrick’s leg coming to a stand still as he watched Henry lug his accessory to the circle.

“The fuck, [Last Name]?” Henry nodded at the book in your hands, taking to the cooler and turning from you, his words nonchalant, as if he hadn’t been ignoring and avoiding you all week. “You started without us?”

“I-” You looked to Patrick, swiveling to look at him as you whispered under your breath. “Dude am I having a fever dream?”

“No.” Patrick said back, the hand closest to you curling into a fist, the light of the fire dancing off the metals of his rings.

“Well, I wish I was.” Defeated, you turned back to Henry and Carly, who dug through the cooler together.

“Got anything that’s not beer and soda?” She asked absently, peeking over her shoulder to Belch, who shrugged uselessly.

Your eyes settled on him, and he was quick to avoid your gaze, looking positively guilty. It was then to realized he had known from the start that this was going to happen, and figured Henry had texted him earlier to announce her impending arrival.

Betrayed, irritated, and at a loss for words, you just sat there, scratching at the edge of the page, watching Carly move ice around in search for a drink to fit her delicate palette.

Why did you hate her? You wondered, really trying to find a good reason to loathe this girl, because it wasn’t like you to have this much hate for someone so easily. All she had done was make Henry happy, technically.

But god, she was disrupting the order of it all. Henry was supposed to be the first one to arrive at Belch’s on saturdays, he was the one that delegated what snacks were brought out, he was the one who tried time and again to throw his back out by refusing help when carrying the cooler through the woods.

But he had been gone. He had been with her.

You had felt his absence all day, itching at your thoughts while you folded up blankets and chatted with Mama Huggins as she made you, Belch, and Patrick lunch.

Belch was supposed to be all light hearted and joking, face flushed from alcohol consumption and munching on a bag of fritos. Now, he was just looking uncomfortable and wearing a fake smile, trying to pretend he wasn’t bothered by the intrusion.

Vic was quiet, Patrick clearly less than thrilled, and you couldn’t help but know that this was what the boys had been talking about just weeks before.

This was jealousy now, not envy. You didn’t want Henry per say, not like that. But you wanted his attention, his presence in your life, and to not worry about some girl you barely knew stomping through the years of friendship between you, him, and the others.

You were jealous she had Henry, you were angry Henry was avoiding you because of some girl, and god dammit you were furious that you didn’t have a good excuse to say all this out loud. If you did, you’d just be proving all the boys right, and part of you worried that you’d seem a little weaker in Henry or Patrick’s eyes.

So you sat there, politely allowing yourself to be silenced as you watch Henry and Carly collect themselves in one of the worn out folding chairs. Henry cracked open a beer in one hand, his other stuck to Carly’s hip as she positioned herself on his lap and held onto a soda, the both of them laying their eyes on you.

“Go ahead, start.” Henry nodded at you, and you saw a flash behind his eyes, a wordless warning not to act up. He was, in his mind, giving you a chance to behave. If you fucked it up this time, you were sure you’d be getting something worse than a cold shoulder.

You sighed softly, collecting yourself and clearing your throat before you set to the page, reading from where you left off, ignoring the coil of submission that built in you.

So no, you hadn’t just realized how fucked everything was while sitting on the bleachers. You had known for days. But now was the time to finally discuss it, between Vic and yourself, like it had always been.

“I don’t know what to do, Vic. Henry likes her, she makes him happy, I guess.” You said dejectedly, watching across the field as Vic smoothed your hair back in a comforting gesture. “It’s not my place to butt heads with him, especially not now, when we’re at odds with each other.”

“But you’re miserable.” Vic quipped, frowning and then nudging you. “You hate her, don’t you?”

“God, yes.” You groaned, “I hate her so much, she’s everywhere I fucking look. Class? There. Lunch? She’s there now too. Henry has made Belch pick her up from home so many times this week that I’m surprised Patrick hasn’t strangled her in the back.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to, knowing that boy.” Vic assured you, and you turned your head back to face him, searching his expression, which remained neutral. “Patrick’s picking up on what you’re feeling, and he’s just itching to unleashing it tenfold. If Patrick could have legally done it, I’m pretty sure he would have set her on fire by now.”

Passively, you raised an eyebrow. “You think he hates her that much?”

Vic shrugged, helping you sit up and watched as you situated yourself to sit beside him on the bleachers, stretching your arms out. “I don’t think Patrick hates things. He’s Patrick. If he doesn’t like something, he doesn’t think to even consider it worth his hatred. No.. No, he just wants her gone, just as much as you do. It took forever to get along with you, and that only worked out because you made him like you.”

“I did not.” You huffed.

“Did to.” Vic nudged you with a smirk. “You couldn’t stand him not liking you. You’re so eager to please, Princess, so you spent the better half of two years making that idiot warm up to you, and that’s probably the only reason he puts up with your bullshit.”

“Uh huh, that’s besides the point.” You averted your gaze, thinking to yourself how odd you felt to be pinned under such a accurate description of how yours and Patrick’s friendship came to be.

“Fair enough, but yeah. Carly’s nothing in his eyes, he probably wants to chuck her to the curb and get on with his life, his routine. So…”

You heard his voice tilt and drift off, a telltale sign he was fast at work, the cogs in his mind spinning as he fought to think of something.

“So, he could be of use.” He finished finally, and you blinked, looking back to Vic.

“Dude, what are you even talking about? Be of use to what?”

The blond drummed his nails against the thigh of his jeans, lips pulling into a mischievous smirk that you had learned to associate with Vic thinking of the most blatantly stupid shit, including but not limited to; The time he stole a 40oz from Keenes, when he pantsed the vice principal at homecoming in junior year, and from when he convinced you to help him climb the water tower- where the two of you (being twelve and incredibly stupid) were caught by Butch Bowers and given a weeks worth of community service.

“You’re not gonna like this.”

“Oh, I can fucking tell I’m not.” You replied apprehensively, but a curious and incredibly naive part of you just wanted to know what insanity the boy at your side was cooking up in his twisted little head. “But go on.”

“Hear me out,” He raised his hands, swiveling himself to face you fully and fold an ankle under a knee of his to sit comfortably. “If we want shit to get back to normal, we gotta tip the scales, big time. Henry tossed the dynamic into the trash, so we gotta fuck it up further. We gotta tip those scales into hades, [First Name], and I know just what will throw the balance out of whack enough that Henry Fucking Bowers will actually grow a brain cell and see what he’s fucked with, y’know?”

“Vic, that’s a little dramatic, rane it back buddy, come to the light a little.” You caught yourself holding back a laugh, surprised to see Vic so intense and focused on something that would apparently upset Henry.

“Oh no, we’re going dark, [First Name].” He clapped his hands together once, eyes bright and suggestive. “Are you ready to do what it takes to get Carly Henderson out of your life?”

“I guess?”

“Then date Patrick Hockstetter.”

You gapped at the blond, blinking furiously before letting out a near shriek. “WHAT.”

It echoed, and Belch’s head snapped you face the two of you, getting tackled by someone before he could make sense of anything. You flinched, hissing through your teeth.

“Sorry Reggie!” You called, and he picked himself up, waving you off as he returned to his practice.

Once his eyes left you, you turned on Vic, voice a low whisper.

“What the fuck, Victor. No, I’m not dating Patrick. Are you insane? You’re talking about ruining the crew, not fixing it. If we dated-”

“[First Name].” Vic held a hand up to silence you. “Shut up for a sec.”

You clamped your mouth shut at the order, but your eyes burned and your nostrils flared.

“Don’t actually Date Patrick, idiot. Fake date him. Let him in on the plan to overthrow Henderson, remind him it’s fake, and this’ll go smoothly.” He paused. “Probably.”

“Probably?” You repeated, voice imitating his tone, if not with a touch more sarcasm.

“Hey, Patrick Hockstetter if a fucking man of his own league. I don’t know what he’s thinking half the time and he has a fixation with fire and probably has a choking fetish. He’s unstable enough that I can’t be one hundred percent sure he’d play the part right, but,” He stressed, shoulders relaxing. “He’d play it well. He’s comfortable enough with you to get hands on at a moments notice, and as long as you’re able to look over your crush for him, I think you two could pull it off.”

You tensed. “What?”

“I said-”

You reached out, snatching his collar and dragging him close, breath playing with the ends of his hair as your eyes froze him from the intensity they held. “How did you know?”

Carefully, slowly, the blond began to pry your fingers from his shirt. “I’ve known since sophomore year, if you’re asking about the crush thing.”

You frantically searched your memories, trying to place what he was talking about. You had only recently found yourself thinking of Patrick that way, he wasn’t even on your radar before then.

“Relax.” You heard him assure you softly. “No one knows but me. The others are about as smart as a bag of rocks, and thats almost insulting the rocks. Patrick has friendzoned you, that much is obvious, so it’s not like its going to be a thing ever. Calm down, I can feel your anxiety, dumbass.”

You let out a shaky breath, surprised by how defensive and scared the possibility of Vic knowing about your feelings for Patrick made you.

“It just, like, happened. I guess.”

“I get it. I used to have a thing for Belch.” Vic waved his hand, and you gave him a mildly confused look. “I hid it well. You’re the only one who knows I like boys and girls, anyhow. I gave up when Belch got his first girlfriend. He’s so hetero is fuckin’ hurts sometimes, it wasn’t worth it to pine after him.”

He shrugged, scratching at his neck. Vic’s eyes wandered across the field and he perked up. “Pat’s coming, you have about a minute before he’s in ear shot. What’s the deal, you gonna do it? Ask him to fake date you?”

You frowned, eyes landing on the dark haired boy who strolled through the edges of the field like a shadow, smoke following him while he carried a plastic bag in his hand and a cigarette in the other.

“What if something goes wrong and I fuck up what we have?” You murmured, voicing your real concerns. “Fake dating or not, I have feelings for him, and that can go downhill really fast. What if we dated instead?”

Vic scoffed. “You think they’d believe it? Really? Us? We’ve slept in the same bed since we were like four, I’ve seen you naked more times then I can count, and the guys know all this.”

Patrick, closer now, held up a hand in greeting, lowering it to his mouth shortly after and sucking on the cigarette he had.

You and Vic raised your hands as well, and you forced a smile.

“Fake it till to make it, [First Name]. Who knows, maybe being his fake girlfriend will make you realize how much of a dick he is and your feelings will change. It’s worth a shot if you want to get rid of Henderson.”

Patrick blew smoke from his mouth and your heart caught in your throat when his grin found you as he rounded the last corner of the field.

“I’ll think about it. Now drop it, and if he asks, we were arguing about anything but Carly, got it?”

He sighed lowly, but acknowledged your request.

“What’re you guys so worked up about?” Patrick said, finally in ear shot as he slowly climbed the bleachers, stomping up and rattling them as he went. The bag was swung into your lap as he dropped between you and Vic, taking a drag of his cigarette and smirking.

“Wondering why it took your ass like twenty minutes to grab some snacks, you dip.” Vic cracked a smile, digging into the pocket of his bomber jacket and opening his pack of gold marlboros, taking one out and patting himself down for a lighter. “Did you get my Arizona?”

“Yeah, I got your fuckin’ tea.” Patrick nodded at the bag, which you opened and started removing items from. “I was making a few rounds too, by the way. How else do you expect me to get extra dough for shit? Sitting on my ass? The only time any of these Derry fucks want to snag some weed from me is after classes are out, everyone’s too much of a pussy to ask for some during school.”

“Expulsion on sight is the punishment for smoking or dealing at school, ‘Trick.” You reminded him, leaning across him to hand Vic his drink.

“Whatever.” He shrugged passively, watching you crack open the drink you requested, a bottle of the rare but delicious ruby red squirt soda.

The three of you fell into casual conversation, though you strained yourself to comply with answers, too focused on the plan Vic had given you, too concerned with weighing your options. You drifted through the rest of the evening, seemingly airheaded and attention stuck elsewhere, Patrick and Belch both checking in with you but only receiving a soft smile and an assurance that you were fine.

The next day came, you were distracted, quiet even in the car. You spent that morning in Vic’s lap instead of Patrick’s and no matter how many times Vic whined for you to smile for the camera as he held his phone up to take photo after photo of the two of you, you would only manage a wry smile that just didn’t do the trick.

Belch even stopped for coffee that morning, though Carly insisted he head out of the way of the gang’s usual haunt of Donut Dans and forcing you all to stop at Starbucks. Sure, the coffee was better, but the defiance and resistance Henry’s girlfriend had to negate the cheaper but well loved alternative left you with a bitter frown all the way back to school.

You leaned against the Trans-Am as students slowly filled the parking lot of Derry High, sipping on your iced coffee and scrolling through your phone. Henry was talking to you more now since the bonfire, but it did little to improve your mood. In fact, you were itching to get away from the gang the moment you exited the car.

Patrick was quiet at your side, coffeeless and smothered in cigarette smoke that morning. He had sucked down two since you got in the car with him, and was on his third. It didn’t take a genius to know something was bothering him too, and you thought back to what Vic had said, about Patrick picking up on your moods and intensifying them.

You tucked your phone away, Henry entertaining the others with a story and the attention solely on him. Patrick however, saw you shift against the vehicle and snapped out of his thoughts, looking to you.

You regarded him quietly, then teetered to the side, bumping his shoulder softly. “Wanna hang tonight? My parents won’t be home ‘till late, Vic is at dance practice until ten, and I’d like to go to your house and watch a movie or something.”

Grey-green eyes considered you, and you noticed how tense his jawline was before it loosened and you saw his posture relax. He had been on guard, you realized, and that fact worried you. Why was he on edge near you?

“I don’t want to be alone.” You admitted to him, giving a little shrug.

Finally, he nodded, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “I’ll let my Ma know you’ll be over for dinner.”

You patted his shoulder, and took a step away from the group. “I’m heading to class. Later Kiddos.”

Saluting them, and receiving a chorus of farewells, you walked away, sipping at your drink and wondering, hoping, if you had made the right choice in seeing Patrick that night.

The Hockstetter home sat idly on a street where every house had a picket fence, neatly clipped lawns and polished cars. The sidewalks weren’t cracked like they were near Belch’s house, or over grown to the point no one could see them on the backroads of Derry that led to Henry’s farm. The trees that lined the backs of houses had tire swings, the gardens that neighbours pruned and weeded were glorious and overfilled with flowers of varying shades and sizes, nothing seeming out of place and brightening the scenery considerably.

The Hockstetter home was nice, a handsome size with white paint, large and spotless windows, with a nice sized front porch that housed several chairs and a couple side tables. The lawn out front was mowed, and the rose bushes that wrung around the front trailed to the back, where you had spent afternoons laying in the grass with Patrick and the other members of the Bowers Gang, chatting amicably or listening to music on a portable speaker Patrick stole out of his dad’s office.

Walking inside, you would meet a foyer with a sizeable staircase, the wall it rested on showcasing shadow boxes of past family members and Charles Hockstetter’s coin collection- which had a few missing pieces, you were always quick to notice.

With hardwood floors, white linen high backed chairs and cream colored couches with perfectly fluffed pillows, you were able to see the stark difference between Patrick’s room and the rest of the house, which his mother had decorated and kept impeccably clean.

It wasn’t always his room, it had once simply been the basement, but once Patrick had started blaring his music at the highest notch on his speakers and bringing girls home, his parents had agreed to let him take over the deepest pits of the Hockstetter house.

It was dark down there, the flood windows covered by thick curtains and the limited amount of false lighting he had were only turned on when guests arrived. Patrick was happy to slink around in the blackness, and you joked with him plenty of times that he had night vision, because he never seemed to trip or stumble in the darkness when he searched out his lamps for you or the others to be able to see in his room.

When those lights came on, you were able to see a messy expanse. His bed was pushed against a center wall, a single blanket and pillow folded around each other on the deep colored forest green sheets, there were clothes everywhere, and spare vinyl records he had never bothered to stuff back in the casings scattered about.

Patrick’s closet was always open, and you could see the basses he stuffed in there and speakers too, or the deep winter clothes he kept carefully hung up, waiting to be used when Maine finally got its snow for the year.

Opposite his bed was a comfy and torn up couch, broken and sagging on some spots, but you loved the piece of trash to death. You’d fallen asleep on it countless times, snuggled in the smell of clove cigarettes, damp earth and a musk that was just Patrick- all encompassing, all comforting. There was a TV across the way, a coffee table in between the two, where Patrick’s boots always seemed to be glued too when watching a movie, an ashtray located there as well, which he actually made an effort to clean up now and again. Aside from that there were bean bag chairs tossed into the corner, usually claimed by Belch and Vic when they hung out, but left alone when you arrived.

You liked Patrick’s room. It was so him, from the posters of horror movies and bands he enjoyed, to the shelving in his room filled to the brim of slasher films, cartoons and thick bound psychology books (which you assumed were for decoration only), the room just said “Patrick Hockstetter”.

Upon entering the house, dropped off by Belch after leaving Vic at his dance studio, you saw Angela Hockstetter turn a corner.

Tired and worn, she still smiled brightly at you, dressed smartly in a pastel green blouse and black slacks. Her hair was still pulled in a tight bun from work, where you knew she spent the day defending criminals and mad men in front of a jury.

“[First Name], it’s good to see you!”

Patrick, as he always did, rounded his mother without so much as a greeting. Her dark eyes followed her son, but they snapped back to you, her smile thinning.

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Hockstetter. Are you sure you’re okay with me staying for dinner?”

“Oh,” She waved a hand, the light of the foyer chandelier catching a glimmer against the diamond on her wedding ring. “It’s nothing, sweetheart. I’m always happy to have you here. You’re such a good friend to Patrick, and his father hasn’t seen you in ages. We’re having noodles, and since I know you like them, I’ll go ahead and make some tofu spring rolls, with the little peanut sauce.”

As mouthwatering as the food sounded, you still found yourself a little starstruck, seeing as it was laughable how easy it was to forget that Patrick was half vietnamese. It was only when you visited his house that you remembered, his mother’s style of cooking and appearance a reminder each time.

“That sounds amazing,” You nodded eagerly. “If you need help, please, tell me-”

“Don’t worry about it, and,” She looked over her shoulder, to where Patrick hovered by the doorway of the living room, which would lead to a hall that would take the two of you to the basement. “Patrick, don’t forget to wash up for dinner. We have a guest.”

Angela nodded at you, Patrick’s eyes rolling skyward.

He muttered something, and quick as a whip, with a hard smile, Angela snapped something right back at him in her native tongue.

Whatever it was, it made him bristle, and he jerked his head away and said something flatly back in the same language, the whole scene leaving you a little awkward and at the mercy of your gut assumptions that it had to do with you.

“Lets go.” Patrick ordered, leaving with a frown.

“I’ll make black rice pudding too,” Excited by the prospect to have a guest to impress, Angela looked to you with  kinder eyes. “I’ll call for you two when it’s ready.”

Dismissed, you hurried after Patrick, who had thrown open the door to his room and ducked through the doorway to head down the stairs.

You caught up after him, shutting the door behind you and trudging after him in the darkness. As always, you waited at the bottom of the stairs, barely hearing him maneuver through the maze of his room for lamps to light.

When the first one turned on you hopped off the last step, watching the lanky teen make his way over  clumps of loose clothing to turn on a few more lights.

“So, what’d she say?”

His eyes flickered to you as he bent down, turning the last lamp on and straightening. “Does it matter?” He said, the tone in his voice daring you to push.

You didn’t, shaking your head and stepping over the landmines, heading to the couch. “Nah, guess not. At least your mom likes me, I guess. She’s always so annoyed when Henry comes over.”

“She doesn’t like him.” Patrick replied simply, going to the shelving by the television and running a finger across the spines of movies. “She likes Vic though, and Belch. They’re polite.”

You dropped down on a cushion, shifting into a comfortable position and shrugging off your jacket, you bit your lip, noticing how he didn’t agree or repeat that yes, his mother did in fact like you. Angela was like her son, in the way what she could make a convincing face and pretend she enjoyed your company, and she did so with Henry anytime he was over.

“She likes you.” Patrick’s voice brought you from your thoughts and he plucked a movie from the wall, flipping around to face you, regarding you with a barely there smirk. “Incase you were wondering, and I know you were. She likes you, a lot.”

“Ominous.”

“Your family is well off, you’re planning on going to a four year college, you tolerate me.” Patrick’s eyes left you as he spoke, wandering to the dvd player by the tv and messing around with it, opening the movie case. “Honestly, Angela Hockstetter would roll a red carpet out for you every time you came over, if she got the chance.”

You laughed a little. “Thats a little much, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you say.” He replied, rounding the coffee table with the remote in hand, the screen of the television coming to life as he plopped down beside you, brushing against your shoulder and pressing the appropriate buttons to switch to the dvd player input.

“What movie did you pick?” You asked, curious, usually Patrick would ask you your preference for the night and go from there.

“House of Wax. Your favorite.” His lips quirked, a sinister little smile replacing the apathetic expression he had worn since fiddling with the dvd player.

You gave a groan, smacking his chest lightly as he laughed at your side. “You ass.”

House of Wax was not your favorite film, by any means. It as cheesy, sure, with lots of slasher gore that you would normally enjoy, and a handsome villain, but it had always spooked you just a little too much, no matter how many times you’d been forced to watch it. Something about the very idea, of real people being under the wax, was utterly horrifying, and you’d never been able to sit through a few of the scenes, including the god awful sex scenes and cringey 2005 humor.

“I hate you, I can’t believe you’re making me see Jared Padalecki get hosed down with wax for the eighteenth time.” But you curled up your legs on the couch despite your complaints, feeling the normalcy of spending an evening watching horror movies with Patrick taking priority over your indifference for the choice of film.

“More like the twentieth, keep up, Princess.”

A lean arm was thrown over your shoulders as he turned up the volume with the remote and you didn’t resist the hold, scooting closer and relaxing against him, finding him to do the same. Before long, you were sucked in the film, flinching at all the old jumpscares you’d seen time and again, and feeling disgust as the plot progressed. Still, you were hooked, and Patrick was too, laughing where you’d be horrified, and nudging you when that fateful Jared scene arose.

You scrunched up your nose, but watched on.

Sitting there, curled close together and enjoying a horror movie, struck your thoughts. You wondered back to Vic’s proposition, chewing on your lip as the movie went on without your attention, Patrick still absorbed while you thought.

It could be like this. Dating him, fake dating him. It would be easy to fool the Henry and Belch. You’d just need to sneak off to his house more and do exactly what you were doing then, maybe up the PDA since Patrick was constantly all over his dates in the past. The only thing, and it hurt your head to think about, was that there would be the evidence factor.

Patrick Hockstetter was not a gentle lover. His girlfriends returned to school after nights with him showcasing purple and yellow blotches on their necks, or red and raw love bites dipping far past their collar. He’d jerk them around, bite their lips until they were sore and bruised and kiss them until their lungs gave out. He was intense, overbearing, and possessive.

If you wanted to get away with the little trick you wanted to pull, you’d have to ante up more than spending a night on his couch and holding hands in public. You’d have to commit to physical affection, rough grips on your hips, and hickeys across your skin.

Henry wouldn’t believe it otherwise, unless you looked the part of a victim of Patrick’s lust, you’d never get away with it.

“What is it.”

Your head snapped up, and you blinked. “Hm?”

Patrick watched you through long lashes, expression stoic. “What’s wrong? You’re outta it tonight. You’ve been outta it for a few days, actually.”

“Uh,” You almost chewed your lip, but knew it would give you away. “Just stuff, don’t worry ‘Trick.”

“Not worried. Curious.” He stated simply, exhaling softly. “Whatever then, don’t tell me.”

“Don’t guilt me, Hockstetter.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Princess.”

There was a grip of tension in the air, and you could tell Patrick was borderline insulted you wouldn’t fess up to your thoughts. You deliberated your options in silence before sliding away from him, to which he gave an indignant click of his tongue.

“Really?” He almost sneered, eyes hard.

You gauged him thoughtfully, and shifted yourself to face him, a leg hanging off the edge of the couch with the other tucked under you. “Listen, you wanna know what’s on my mind?”

“What gave you that idea?” He snarked, a frown forming. “Why? You actually going to tell me?”

“Yes, if you drop the attitude.” You shot back, and watched as his mouth close, his way of allowing you to continue. “Vic and I were talking-”

“Lord save me.” Patrick cracked an almost disappointed smile, as if he pitied what was to come out of your mouth next. “What now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Patrick. Damn. Give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“When Vic is involved, I’m happy to say that I’m wary of his plots and exploits, thank you. He’s an adrenaline junkie and a party animal when it comes down to it, don’t deny this.”

“Just because he-”

“Just because he what? Drank a bottle of perfume at a party, shattered an urn and lit a kitchen on fire in one night, doesn’t mean I can make an educated guess that what is about to come outta that pretty little mouth of yours is one hundred percent idiocy, through and through?”

Stunned and a little insulted, you frowned. “Forget it.”

“No, do tell, Princess. Entertain me, please.” Sarcasm drenched his words and he stifled a laugh.

“It’s about Carly Henderson.”

The dark haired boy tipped his head back, unleashing an almost earth shattering groan.

“What? What could Vic possibly be cooking up that involves that whore, and why the fuck are you getting involved.”

He wiped a hand down his face, from nose to mouth, watching you with a steely gaze.

“At this point, I don’t want to even tell you.” You threw your arms up, exasperated. “You’re such an ass, why can’t you have faith in me-”

“Prove it then.” He wound his hands up in a fashion, as if near defeat. “What’s the brilliant plan? Are you guys trying to get rid of Carly?”

Your rocked to the side, picking at your jeans. “Yes.” You mumbled.

He rolled his eyes. “Henry’ll run her off soon enough.”

“No, not soon enough, Patrick.” You argued back. “She’s sucking my soul away, I swear. I’m not ready to spend the next however long dealing with her meddling in my life. She’s at the bonfire, she’s at the diner, it’s driving me insane, ‘Trick.”

“You’re being stupid.” He leaned forward, prodding a finger against your forehead, making you wince. “She isn’t worth the effort.”

Annoyed now, you move his hand away. “She is.”

“Fine then. Lay it on me.” Patrick rose an eyebrow, and you noticed how his eyes lingered on the curves of your face before he backed away, letting you breathe.

You exhaled sharply, collecting yourself and then just tossed it out there. “Vic thinks if we fake dating each other, that Henry would see how much he’s fucked with the group and drop Carly.”

Silence, aside from the sounds of a murder about to play out on screen, Paris Hilton’s hiccuping sobs emulating the anxiety surging through your body as Patrick just… Stared at you.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Repeat that.”

“Patrick-”

“Repeat.”

You heaved a sigh. “I want to fake date you to knock Carly Henderson into the grass, alright.”

His eyes snapped open, and the harshness behind them shocked you. “You want to use me?”

“Yes.” You knew that’s what this was, that what you had planned was centered around taking advantage of Patrick’s help more so than anything.

A laugh, bitter and short, left him before he sat up straighter. “Is that what you really want, Princess? Do you want to make the wicked witch of the west go away this much? Enough to ask me, flat out, to let you use me for your own selfish gain?”

Again, with your tongue prodding your cheek and eyes cold, you replied. “Yes.”

He clicked his tongue, sinking back against the couch and considering you with a dark look. “You know, jealousy is really fucking ugly on you, sweetheart.” He said almost endearingly, and you watched him take out a pack of smokes. “So tell me. Do you have a thing for Bowers?”

“No, that’s not what this is about.” You defended, Patrick lighting his cigarette and tossing his pack on the coffee table. “I don’t have a thing for Henry. I swear, I just think it’s unfair and ridiculous to give into Henry’s bullshit when it’s…”

“Distracting attention away from you?” He offered, then held up a finger, thinking out loud. “Diminishing your relationship with Henry? Threatening your position? Making you feel weaker?” He faked a quiet gasp when you flinched at those words. “You’re worried you’ll be replaced, Princess?”

Smoke curled from his mouth, and for the first time in years, you felt almost threatened by Patrick. He was hitting home, striking a match under you, making you squirm.

You hated it.

You launched forward, digging your knees into the cushions and looming above him. Patrick wore an apathetic expression, but you saw how his eyes danced at your show of dominance.

“No one is going to replace me, Hockstetter. I’m going to make sure of that, and you are going to help me keep it that way.” Your lip curled with your words, the dark haired boy below you scratching absently at his jaw.

Arrogant, the both of you. Abrasive, the both of you. Cunning, the both of you.

Patrick tilted his head back, blowing smoke past his lips and watching you closely. “Why should I? I could take this shit to Henry, instead. Get you in trouble.”

Your tongue slid across the bottoms of your teeth. It was a game of control he was playing now, a game of chicken.

Your friend or not, you had insulted Patrick by asking to use him. He wasn’t a tool, you knew he wasn’t, and he knew he wasn’t. You approached the situation wrong, and now you were paying the price. He was furious with you, even if he didn’t say it, his intense and closed off demeanor spoke for itself.

“You want her gone too.”

“Sure. But I’m not willing to fuck with Henry to do it.” Nimble fingers brought his cigarette back, and he sucked on the filter, the end red hot and glowing.

“Yes you are.” You assured him, and finally dropped the last of your regard for space, slipping closer and resting a knee between his thighs, dangerously close to him. The act itself caused him to bristle, but you pressed on, reaching to tuck hair behind his eyes like he would normally do so endearingly to you. His piercings glinted in the light as you continued. “You want it to go back to normal. You’re a man of routine, and Henderson is fucking with you as much as she’s fucking with me, just in different ways.”

“Look at you,” He mused softly. “You really want this, don’t you? Can’t stand anyone possibly taking away your throne.”

“No, I can’t.”

His eyes searched your own, though you were unsure of what he hoped to find. Whatever it was, he must have seen it, because slowly, with a dangerous glint in those bright eyes of his, he smirked.

“What do I get out of this.”

“The same thing I get. Order.” And I know that’s what you want. You thought to yourself, staring him down.

“A common goal for the common good. Not my style, but for you…” Patrick flipped and pressed the cigarette to your lips, little wisps of smoke leaving him as he spoke. “Anything.”