#his arms are too short for the sweater im screaming.

[medichamcham]

he looks so fucked up...... but im having fun....

fucking....... eboy looking ass............

[jennay]

My Best Friend (5)

Authors Note: I’m working on this and Im ok with taking some requests id you guys have them too! Just read the rules please ❤️

Summary: Noah meets readers family and suddenly things make sense.

Words: 3400ish

Chapters- 1/2/3/4

Master List

You watch as Noah checks himself out in the full-length mirror by the door. His face is etched with worry, and you can hear the panic in his voice. “This isn’t it,” he mutters, tugging at his oversized white graphic t-shirt. He ruffles his dark, short hair, hoping it will fall into place and not look like he just rolled out of bed.

You stand up from the bed, your feet hitting the cold wooden floors as you lazily walk over to him. “We’ve been lounging in bed for two hours. We should’ve gotten up earlier if you were going to be this picky.” You stand beside him, bringing your hand up to the back of his hair. You run your fingers through the thick, silky strands, trying to tame the random waves. His eyes close, and he almost purrs under your touch. “There,” you say, slowly dropping your hand to your side. “That looks better.”

“I’m not prepared to meet everyone. Look at my clothes…” Noah chuckles, rummaging through his duffle bag with a playful grin. “I’m gonna be honest, Jolly made it sound like we were just chilling with your sister, and now I’m meeting your other siblings and your mom. I’ve only had 24 hours as your fake boyfriend—I need more practice!” He pulls out a few items, tossing them onto the bed with a dramatic flick of the wrist. “I just have to act like myself, right?” Noah’s eyes land on you, pleading for reassurance. “Right?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him. “Right. God, I’ve never seen you this nervous. We’re just meeting them for pizza,” you assure him. “It’s not like you’re asking them to marry me or that we need to have a full make-out session. Just be yourself, maybe add a little more affection.”

Noah looks down at his outfit, a mix of an oversized white graphic t-shirt and bright, mismatched socks—one with black and gray polka dots and the other with black and gray stripes. “Do you think they’ll notice my socks?” he asks, wiggling his toes.

You giggle, “They might, but it’ll just add to your charm." You let out a deep sigh, "I should’ve told them I married Jolly. That would probably be more believable at this point."

Noah pretends to be hurt as he roughly grabs his plain black shirt and slides it over his head, “I can’t believe you’d even say that to me, as your fake boyfriend I’m offended.” He teases placing his hand over his heart. “Alright help me out, does this scream perfect boyfriend?” His laughter fills the room with warmth making you smile.

You throw your sweater over your head. “Screams, I’m on a road trip and I packed lightly, which is why,” you gesture to your skinny jeans and sweater, “I’m also dressed like this.” You playfully roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of anxiety in your voice as Noah finishes putting on his outfit. “Come on,” you say, reaching your hand out to him. “We can look like trash together.”

Noah smirks, grabbing hold of your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen where Kyle and your niece are waiting with Jolly. “Figured we can follow them,” Jolly says sheepishly, sensing the tension.

You go straight to your niece and scoop her up in your arms. She squeals with excitement as you smother her face with kisses. You laugh, but it’s a bit forced, pulling back as she does the same to you. “I missed you soooo much,” you say dramatically, trying to mask your unease. “Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.”

Lily stares at you for a second, smiling widely before her gaze turns to Noah. She stares up at him with big wide eyes. “You’re big… like a tree.”

You giggle, and Noah nods in agreement. “It’s because I ate all my broccoli growing up. Miniature trees turned me into a giant tree,” he says, laughing and giving her a small boop on the nose.

“That was the worst advice, Noah,” you say, setting her back on her feet. “Not every girl’s dream is to grow up and be 6’3”.”

Lily giggles and looks back at Noah. “Do you have to water yourself too?”

Noah chuckles, “Only when I’m thirsty. And sometimes I need a little sunshine too.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Great, now she’s going to think she needs to sunbathe to grow taller.”

Lily looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Can I have ice cream to grow faster?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, kiddo. But I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Yeah no ice cream yet, sugar.” Kyle says smiling. “We aren’t quite ready yet, your sister and the baby should be ready soon.” He shoves a few more things into his backpack and whispers to Noah, “Don’t rush on the kids part.”

Jolly chuckles, “Noah… kids, yeah right.”

“Hey, I think we’ll meet you there,” you say to Kyle, trying to keep your voice steady.

“She should just be another minute or so,” he responds, glancing at his watch.

“It’s fine!” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of the stress on your shoulders. “I know where we’re going. I’ve literally been going there since I was a toddler…” You pause, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Kyle nods softly, understandingly. “Alright.” He gently places a hand on your shoulder as you walk past, a reassuring touch that momentarily eases your anxiety. You nod, thanking him, but the knot in your stomach tightens.

As you head towards the car, you can’t help but think about the impending gathering. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant event. Your brothers, your mother, and your sister all in one room? The thought alone makes your heart race. Noah and Jolly would fully understand why you stopped visiting once this event was over.

You shut the driver’s side door with a heavy thud, the sound echoing your apprehension. Placing the keys in the ignition, the car roars to life, and loud music blares from the speakers, causing Noah to flinch. He quickly reaches for the volume button, turning it down.

“What was that?” he asks, hopping into the passenger seat, followed by Jolly sliding into the back.

“Yeah, you little weirdo,” Jolly teases, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a deep breath, the weight of the upcoming encounter pressing down on you as you pull out of the driveway. “It was nothing,” you lie, your voice strained.

“Bullshit,” Jolly chuckles, but there’s a note of concern in his laughter. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“I know I’m learning new things about you, but I know when you lie,” Noah says, smiling, though his eyes are filled with worry.

“I love that you guys are excited, but I’m not. I don’t like this at all. Being with my family does not bring out the good in me.” You pause, gripping the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white. “Either everyone is going to fake nice this shit, or all hell is going to break loose.” You stop at a red light, glancing at Noah, then back at the road. “This will be a shit-on-me fest. You’ll know things I never wanted to tell. Like when I was into drugs or using alcohol constantly… all the shitty, abusive boyfriends I’ve had… how I lied, stole, and cheated life.” You take a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “This isn’t fun for me. This is why I didn’t want to come here.”

Jolly places a hand on your shoulder and you cringe under his touch. “You aren’t that girl anymore.” He gently reminds you.

Noah nods, “Yeah fuck em.” He says lightening the mood. “I’m sure their lives aren’t perfect either.”

As you drive, the familiar streets pass by, each one bringing back memories—some good, some you’d rather forget. The closer you get to your destination, the tighter the knot in your stomach becomes. You glance at Noah and Jolly, their presence a small comfort in the face of what’s to come.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Noah assures you.

You force a halfhearted smile as you pull into the parking lot, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. After parking, you turn off the engine and stare at the imposing building ahead. “Ready?” you ask the boys, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stepping out of the car, you wait for them to catch up. As you head towards the door, you’re slightly taken aback when Noah intertwined his fingers with yours. “What?” he asks, noticing your puzzled expression. “Aren’t we supposed to hold hands six months into our relationship?” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you, I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend I can be.”

Jolly chuckles, holding the door open and motioning for the two of you to enter. “I can already feel your brothers’ hate,” he jokes, his laughter echoing in the air.

You playfully roll your eyes as you stride into the restaurant, the familiar buzz of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. The aroma of freshly baked pizza and the hum of conversations create a comforting backdrop. From afar, you spot your family, beers already lined up on the table in front of them.

You wave as you approach, and everyone stands for hugs and introductions. For a moment, you love how normal this all seems. Your older brother steps forward with a confident grin. “Josh, you must be Noah!” he says, extending a hand. You notice the firm handshake but also the genuine smile on his lips.

“Yeah, man. I’ve heard all about you guys. Nice to finally put names to the faces,” Noah replies, pulling out a chair and gesturing for you to sit.

You smile as you take the seat, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Noah sits next to you, casually draping an arm around the back of your chair, while Jolly takes the seat on your other side, already reminiscing about old times. You can almost see the wheels turning in Josh’s head, wondering what kind of chaos will ensue once your sister and older brother start interacting.

“This one looks hella normal. Are you ill?” your little brother, Benjamin, asks with a mischievous grin.

“Normal? That’s a first,” Josh quips, raising an eyebrow. “I was starting to think you only dated weirdos.”

Noah chuckles, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. He nuzzles into your neck playfully and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Did you hear that, babe? They think I’m normal,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Benjamin laughs, shaking his head. “Well, good luck and welcome to the family, Noah.”

Your mother, sitting at the far end of the table, raises her glass. “To new faces and old memories,” she toasts, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

The conversation flows, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter. For a brief moment, you forget about the underlying tensions and just enjoy the company of your loved ones.

“Just wait until mom brings out the baby photos.” Josh says to Noah.

“Oh, great,” Noah laughs. “I can’t wait to see those.”

“Just make sure mom doesn’t show him the one where you tried to give the cat a bath,” Benjamin chimes in, grinning wickedly.

“Or the one where you thought wearing a tutu rollerblading was a good idea,” Josh adds, smirking.

“Okay, okay, enough with the embarrassing stories,” you say, laughing. “Before you scare him off.”

“Too late,” Noah jokes, squeezing your hand. “I’m already in too deep.”

Moments later, the door creaks open again, revealing your sister, her husband Kyle, and their two kids. They join the table, and Noah’s hand finds its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles. “Beers?” Kyle asks, pointing to you and the boys.

“I’m good with water,” Noah says, and you nod in agreement.

“Me too!” Jolly adds enthusiastically.

Kyle nods, “Three waters. One beer, one cider, and momma, are you good with your beer?”

Your mother nods, her eyes lingering on you. “No fun? Not even one beer?” she teases, a playful glint in her eye.

Before you can respond, your sister cuts in, “No, because then it turns into 2, 5, 10… blackout,” she says with a laugh that sounds lighthearted but carries a sharp edge, a reminder of your past.

You shake your head, feeling the familiar sting of judgment. “Here we go,” you mutter, leaning your head on Noah’s shoulder, seeking comfort in his warmth.

Noah rubs your shoulder, his touch gentle and reassuring. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m here,” he whispers softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tension.

“Oh god. We had to stop taking her to bars with us. She would just get so messed up and always end up with one of her trashy exes,” Josh says, taking a sip of his beer, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

Jolly glances nervously from your mom to your sister, clearly debating whether he should try to change the subject. But before he can say anything, you sit up straight, your eyes blazing with defiance.

“At least I can admit I have a problem…” you say, your voice steady and challenging. “Wild how all of you do the same thing, but I’m the one who gets shit on for it. At least I’m trying?” You shake your head, the frustration and hurt evident in your expression.

Noah’s hand moves to your back again, his touch grounding you. “Don’t let them get to you,” he whispers softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tension.

Josh, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, points at Noah. “So, are you an alcoholic too?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben mutters, propping his head on his elbows up on the table and leaning his head on his hands. “We haven’t even eaten yet. Can’t this wait until after?”

You’re listening to Ben’s words, but your cold stare still rests on Josh. His blue eyes are ice cold as he clinks his drink to your sister’s, and they giggle.

“C’mon. It’s just a joke,” Josh says, but you know it’s not a joke; it’s just another jab. “It’s all out of love.”

“That’s not love,” Noah mumbles under his breath, his hand still a comforting presence on your back.

Your mother, who has been silently observing, finally speaks up. “Enough. This isn’t the time or place for this,” she says, her voice firm but weary.

Josh rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. The tension at the table is palpable, and you can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

Noah’s hand moves from your back to your hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s just get through this,” he whispers, his eyes filled with concern and determination.

You nod, appreciating his support. The rest of the meal continues in strained silence, with occasional forced attempts at conversation. You can’t help but feel a mix of anger and sadness, but Noah’s presence beside you keeps you grounded.

As the evening drags on, you find yourself glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until you can leave.

You feel icy blue eyes land on you again and you’ve noticed the more Josh drinks the more vicious he gets, “You know it makes sense that you’re dating him.” He says pointing to Noah, “He probably has all the conncetions to drug dealers, plus he’s loaded with money.” He smirks and goes back to eating his food like nothing happened.

Your mouth drops. You feel your chest tighten. “I wanna go,” you whisper to Noah. “I can’t do this.”

Noah’s eyes meet yours, filled with understanding and a hint of frustration. He nods slightly, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. You stand up without warning, looking around the table. This isn’t where you wanted to be, and this isn’t where you needed to be. These people weren’t your family; they were simply related to you.

Noah stands up next to you, his presence a comforting shield, and Jolly does the same. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, here we go,” your mother chimes in. “You can’t let us have one dinner.”

Noah scoffs at the comment, his hand placed on your back as he pushes you forward, trying to ignore the comments. “You guys started this shit and want her to stay? Why, to be a punching bag? So you guys have someone to point the finger at to make yourselves feel better?” His voice is steady but laced with anger, his protective nature coming to the forefront. “It’s really not shocking why she never talk about you guys or why she doesn’t visit.” He pauses, his eyes roaming the group of people who look surprised by his words. “She doesn’t need you guys…she has us and other friends in California that treat her a million times better.”

You grab Noah’s hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip, and follow behind Jolly. “Let’s go, it’s not worth it,” you quietly say.

When you exit out the doors, you feel the fresh air hit you, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Two men are staring at you, waiting for you to crack, but instead, you laugh, not believing what just happened.

“You see why I don’t come back? It’s the same shit every time,” you say, shaking your head, frustration boiling over. “I walk in, and it’s like I’m instantly transported back to being that screw-up they all remember. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jolly nods, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “He was harsh,” he softly speaks, his eyes filled with concern.

You shake your head, your voice rising with emotion. “I get why he’s mad. I do. I wasn’t great, and he had to bail me out of shitty situations often. I just kept jumping into it again, time after time—rehab, hospitals, all of it, over and over. But I’m not like that anymore! I’ve changed, and I wish they would look at who I am now. But it’s like all they can see is who I used to be, and it’s suffocating.”

Noah looks at you, his expression softening. “You don’t have to prove anything to them, and they shouldn’t be that way toward you anyway. We’ve got your back, right?” He turns to Jolly.

Jolly nods in agreement. “Right.” He follows you toward the car, his steps light and carefree. “Hey… didn’t you grow up around here? Thrift shop and coffee time? Isn’t that on your list of things to do in every town?”

You laugh at his comment, remembering your pact. “You know the way to my heart.”

“I’m driving,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and pushing his sunglasses back on his face.

As Jolly skips goofily to the car, you feel Noah grab your hand, pulling you back for a brief moment. He places his hand under your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. His eyes lovingly stare into yours, causing a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. “I just want you to know… everything I said is true. Fake boyfriend, best friend… whatever. I got you. Always,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. “I know, Noah. Thank you.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Come on, let’s catch up with Jolly before he drives off without us.”

You follow him to the car, your mind racing. The thought that keeps replaying in your mind is terrifying. You weren’t growing feelings for Noah. Were you? The idea made you feel ridiculous. This was obviously your brain trying to get over Michael and move on as fast as you could. It was protecting it’s self from feeling any pain and Noah just happened to be there.

As you slide into the car, you steal a glance at Noah, who’s chatting animatedly with Jolly. Your heart aches with the weight of your unspoken emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a phase, a fleeting moment of confusion. It had to be. You couldn’t let it be anything more.

[cumulo-stratus]

Spooked Stranger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male reader

Description: Y/n try’s to scare his friend coming around a corner- but scares spencer instead.

Warnings: Fluff, Possible swearing

Flufftober Day 11: Meet cute

A/N: Im obsessed with this prompt- i got it from CM meet cute challenge- and the prompt is: Character tries to scare their friend, but ends up spooking a complete stranger from the autumn section (sry its kinda short!)

It was a chilly October evening- and y/n had decided to stuff himself under a table in order to scare f/n. Until now Y/n had no idea how small the space under the small side table was until now- but he kept reminding himself it was worth it. He was gonna scare f/n so bad. So there he remained- shivering slightly under the table- hidden to the view of his friends. 

Spencer had to practically drag Derek, penelope, and Emily to Witches Woods, a local DC halloween faire (for those from new england/MA its like scream fest at canoby lake). After doing the haunted hayride they split off to get drinks and food from the concession stands, leaving spencer to fend for himself. He decides to make his way towards Castle Morbid- a winding path through a castle of medieval cannibals offering for you to join their feast of human flesh. but little did he know that around the corner was a stranger waiting for his friend- who was actually ahead of him. A gust of wind chilled his body and he pulled the scarf tighter around his neck- hoping for a bit of extra warmth in the autumn weather. 

Spencer approached the next corner cautiously- having been gotten bad by a scare actor a couple turns ago. HE was determined to not be scared by whoever or whatever cane around the corner- that was until a man dressed in a knitted sweater and slacks jumped out at him yelling. Spencer shrieked and jumped back pulling his arms around himself. He was frozen in place- a terrified look on his face, and a slightly bent posture. That’s when spencer got a moment to finally take in the stranger, he had h/c hair and was dressed in a knitted sweater covered in black cats (definitely not based off a sweater a wore recently to a halloween faire 🤭) and black slacks. The mystery man was laughing his ass off and when he finally opened his eyes and looked at spencer he froze. 

“your not f/n…” 

spencer chuckled lightly, not at all mad at the stranger, and responded

“N-no im not, sorry..”

The man looked up and exclaimed;

“no no! dont be sorry, im the one who scared the shit of a handsome stranger..”

He spoke with a smirk, winking at spencer. The flirtation left spencers cheeks warm, but luckily in the darkness it was hard to tell. when spencer re organized himself he spoke again, saying;

“oh- no, no dont worry about it- i enjoyed it..” 

he spoke with a sheepish smile and a shy voice- contrasting with the confident and loud demeanor of the stranger infront of him- who continued to flirt with the flustered man. 

“You know- if you enjoyed that much then may be if you give me your number i can scare you again sometimes.”

spencer thanked god for the darkness or else this mystery man would see the raging blush coating his cheeks. 

“well, ill- ill give you my number if you give me your name” spencer was still shy but his voiced had gained some confidence, urging the stranger to respond

“Of course handsome stranger- my names Y/n L/n. And as much as im happy calling you handsome i think you’d rather i call you your name.” 

again spencer blushed and looked down and responded 

“my names spencer, its good to meet you..” 

“pleasure to meet you too”

Even in the dark spencer could see y/ns smirk and started pulling out his phone in order to give him his number.

“straight to business- i like it..” 

Who spencer now knew as Y/n spoke in a slightly deeper sultry tone, seducing spencer. He stuttered his way through his phone number and after y/n pulled him closer by the tie stating “you’re cute when you’re flustered..” with a wink. Y/n was about to pull him closer for a kiss on on the cheek when from across the maze someone shouted 

“Y/N!” 

his head spun towards the shout before turning back to spencer and saying

 “well handsome- i gotta go, but ill call you- kay?” spencer could only nod- words impossible in his flustered state. And as spencer watched as the man jog away towards the source of the noise- he was left standing there speechless at the encounter.

And finally as he rounded the corner and went out of spencers sight he mumbled to himself “handsome..”

The End 

[lostonehero]

Hidden in plain sight

A short drabble on assassin Martin :)

"The clover has fallen." The dirty blonde hair woman crosses her arms seemingly readying herself for a monster.

A redheaded man in a stripped sweater with soft features stops and turns to face her. His face was soft splattered with freckles. His thick, framed glasses were pushed back on his face. His blue gray eyes narrowed as he frowned, raising a brow. "Lena sent you." He sighs, and the softness seems to drain out of his features. "I don't enjoy being interrupted on a job."

The woman tilts her head. "You're Blackwood?"

"I am." The man hums softly. "Have my orders changed?"

The dirty blonde haired woman hands over a letter. "I was told to deliver this to you in person."

Blackwood takes the letter and reads it slowly and shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath. "Things have changed." He pauses. "Did she ever explain why?"

The woman shakes her head. "She said I would be your handler."

"I am able to read." Blackwood smiles sharp and sinister. "I shall inform you when I have to show my true colors to my now marks under my protection." He folds the letter back to, and he softens, becoming a stranger. "I already know who you are, Gwendolyn."

Gwen watches the large man disappear in a crowd stunned.

.....

Tim sighs, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you sure you're ok here? I've got a nice couch back at my apartment."

Martin smiles as he sits on the cot. "Im fine, Tim. Besides, what if I lead these worms to your place? That would be horrid, and you don't deserve that."

"Tim, don't even try. He already refused mine and Jon's offers. I even think Rosie offered, too." Sasha shakes her head. "I'm still going to get you a better blanket."

Martin smiles softly. "You're too kind."

"Goodnight, Martin." Tim frowns. "Seriously though, if you change your mind, my door is always open."

Sasha dragged Tim with her. "Stay safe Martin the weekend isn't forever."

Martin smiles until he hears the door shut, and he knows they left. Jon is in his office and won't bother him until he leaves at about 9 pm. Jonah won't watch him down here unless he causes damage. He reaches down and takes out a box, and opens it to reveal needles. He can use these worms as target practice until he hears Jon visit him, and then when Jon leaves, he can really start to train again. The tunnels are excellent to actually hone his skills.

.......

Gwen heard the creak of the yellow door too late because there was a distorted scream behind her and blood with colors that didn't make sense spilled on the table in front of her as Blackwood leaned back in his seat and sipped his tea.

A distorted voice growls, and the long hand with too many sharp angles tried to pull his impaled hand from the table. "What are you?"

Blackwood narrowed his gaze and sipped his tea. "I don't appreciate you going after my assigned to protect. You're a weak avatar of the distortion is still so focused on old wrongs done to you. Your little vendetta against a dead woman will lead to your undoing." He places his mug down. "You would have made a good ally if you weren't so wrapped up in your little plot."

Gwen knew better to look behind her at the monster. "Why protect me?"

"You are my handler, Gwen, and I do prefer you to Lena. I could make you hate me if I so desired, but you're still so new to this world. It would be unwise to ruin this relationship for my own amusement." Blackwood flicks his gaze to Micheal. "Learn to control yourself and not just feed if you truly want to go up against me. Just because I am young doesn't mean much when I know how to kill you."

Micheal seems to glitch as Blackwood removes the knife. "You're not human."

"I'm not an avatar either." Blackwood tilts his head. "Remember, Micheal, you either can join me, or I will be forced to kill you if you lay another hand on the ones I've been assigned to protect."

The yellow door creaks shut without another word.

Gwen crosses her arms. "Why ask me to come here?"

"A few reasons. One you might as well ask me questions, you deserve some answers that Lena won't give you. Two, I must warn you that your brother isn't entirely dead as Jonah uses his body. However, I do not know the full extent of how it works. Third again I rather like you as a handler, so I wish to keep you around." Blackwood picks up his mug. "This is also a lovely cafe. I enjoy the excuse to visit."

"I do have questions." Gwen pauses and sighs. "Will you answer truthfully?"

"I don't have a reason to lie to you." Blackwood takes another sip from his mug. "I understand the hesitation, but I can assure you, I've learned it's not optimal to lie to handlers."

Gwen nods and begins her questions.

[camywamycam]

what was left behind in the rubble P.3

702 words

soon to be harry x reader 

TW//WRITTEN AT 4 AM BY A SLEEP DEPRIVED TEEN!!!

A/N

I know this is a short chapter and im sorry 😭 I finished writing this at 4 am because I can only write at night since I'm with my mom and siblings all day and I refuse to write in front of them 😭 maybe it wasnt a good idea to start a full ass fanfic story with a plot 2 weeks before I leave for summer camp but yolo, ive decided im gonna have this fic go from the summer - hoggwarts and y/n will start acting a lot more like Sirius iykwim 

y/ns pov

................

If you had been in the right mindset, you would have impatiently pushed Remus away the second he stepped foot into your room. However, at that moment, all you needed was a hug. You clung onto the soft fabric of his cable knit sweater, which carried the strong scent of chocolate, cigars, and parchment. Remus held you firmly in his arms, patiently waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to open up about your thoughts.

"I hate him," you said in a broken voice.

"You don't mean that," Remus replied, his uncertainty evident in his words. "He loves you, he just... doesn't know the right way to express himself, that's all."

"Well, he obviously doesn't have that problem with Potter," you spat, your voice tinged with envy. "When I traveled all the way to Europe to see my biological father, I was kind of hoping he wouldn't be a total dick."

Remus sat and listened attentively as you rambled, finally realizing how left out you had truly been. The other children never spoke to you, and neither did the adults, except for the usual greetings. The more he spoke to you, the more he learned about your experiences. He discovered that while you were neglected at Grimlands place, you had met a group of muggles who had welcomed you into their friend group so at least you hadn't been totally alone. In the mere 45 minutes of conversation, Remus had already learned more about you than your very own father.

You and Remus continued to chat throughout the night in the room which you had made your own. For the first time in a while when you woke up that morning you didn't feel absolutely terrible. you turned to your side and checked your phone notifications before getting ready for the day.

you tried to sprint down the stairs as quietly as possible knowing the other adults in the house wouldn't be so happy about you sneaking off to hang around strange people whom they knew nothing about. It was almost comical how much they tried to control you when you and they both knew they didn't care about you in the slightest. As you raced down the stairs you bumped into a pale boy with messy black hair and glasses that were a tad bit too large for his face. "black." he spat "potter." "and where do you think you are going?" he said sassily 

harrys pov

....................

it was strange seeing y/n actually dressed. since none of the kids went outside we mostly stayed in our lounging clothes. I took note of y/ns red top, flared jeans, a jean jacket that was covered in patches, and Converse. She actually looked quite nice... but I would never admit that. 

"out." that's all she said as she tried pushing past me. I grabbed a hold of her wrist "What's your problem? You've been acting rude ever since you got here. You could at least try to talk to your dad." she scoffed in my face "Oh I've tried. he's the one who doesn't want me here." "Maybe he would actually like you if you weren't such a bitch." I was shocked at the words falling from my mouth. did I say that out loud? my thoughts were confused as y/n turned around and punched me square in the nose. Adults rushed in as they heard me fall into a vase smashing it while holding my bloody nose. Mrs. Weasly scolded y/n “what on earth have you done!” she screamed at y/n but she just looked around with a red face and big eyes as she rushed towards the door slamming it shut, not that anyone cared.

"don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry," you thought to yourself as you ran to your friends' house. luckily she asked no questions and just welcomed you in with open arms. you eventually told her what had happened at Grimmlands place and she was pissed. both her parents said you could stay with them as long as you needed. they even let you move into the guest room so you wouldn't have to continue sleeping on your friend's floor. you know that you can't stay here long since school is starting soon, but you might as well enjoy it while you can.

tag list 

@moonys0chocolate @venomsvl  @quackitysdrugdealer @superduckmilkshake

[judjira]

cigarettes on cigarettes

AN: a preview of a dahyo fic im working on ! this one hit me while i was on vacation and it just stuck with me so i started writing it ! it’s almost done(?) so i hope to post it soon!

pairing: dahyo themes: coming of age, requited but complicated love wc: 1647

jihyo catches dahyun smoking the first time after finals.

it’s a party, sana’s party. the girl can’t get enough of them. she had one party to celebrate the end of midterms, another party to celebrate midterm break, another party to celebrate jeongyeon and momo’s birthdays, another one for thanksgiving, one more for the first day of snow, and finally, one to celebrate the end of finals.

she suspects there’ll be three more before the month ends: one for christmas; one for sana’s own birthday; then one for new year’s.

jihyo doesn’t hate it, really. she does lament the fact that she’s always in charge of convenience store alcohol runs now, especially that most of them have turned 18—not that that stops any of the younger ones from drinking. sana’s really ramped up her party game, especially now that it’s half of their little group’s last year of high school.

sana’s just forced everyone to take a shot of some spiced rum (courtesy of mina’s generosity and rich parents) in her lovely, two floor home that her parents are barely around to live in. sana’s house has always been everyone’s go-to spot after school to hang out, and it’s a comfort that some things haven’t changed.

jihyo steps outside, into sana’s gated garage, where two suvs sit, making a narrow pathway in between to the front of them, a cool spot at the front of their driveway where the night breeze hits just the right way.

speaking of the night, it’s a gloomy one. dark foreshadowing clouds hang over the entirety of their residential area, a place far from the urban reaches of the city. it’s nice and quiet, no sounds except chaeyoung’s aggravated rap-screaming and jeongyeon’s hyped cheers spilling out into the garage.

it’s to clear her mind, she tells herself. of course, it really is a partial truth, what with how noisy the girls are and how chaotic they can be—fun chaotic, of course, not fun chaotic is rare—but it’s not the whole truth.

the whole truth is sitting on a stool in front of one of sana’s parents’ cars, a cigarette in between her index and middle finger, calmly blowing smoke through the gaps in the gate.

“dahyun? are you—is that a cigarette?”

dahyun turns around, eyes wide and caught in the headlights as jihyo’s voice has taken on that characteristic responsible tone that is to be expected from a class president.

“um…no? hi, ji.”

dahyun attempts, putting the cigarette down, hiding it out of sight as if jihyo doesn’t have object permanence.

the audacity, really. dahyun’s one of their youngest, a year below jihyo, and of all the people to be smoking, it’s the one she expects to be most responsible after her—not counting mina, considering mina’s way too serene to be involved in irresponsibility.

the irritation in jihyo’s mind is only subverted when the nickname echoes in her mind.

ji.

“i did—how did you—why in the world are you smoking?”

jihyo approaches, and gets a closer look at dahyun.

she’s dressed comfy, as she normally is, and it’s the sort of comfy that makes jihyo want to just cuddle her up into her arms and melt into her embrace. a large, oversized white sweater reaches down to dahyun’s knees, her feet perched on the chair, and at the edges of it, jihyo can see her black shorts peeking out. the sleeves of the sweater bunch up at her wrists, with enough loose space for jihyo to fit her entire hand in.

“um…it suited…the vibe?”

jihyo snorts, the attempt at an excuse entirely evading her as she comes closer to dahyun.

her skin is shining, reflecting the pale bluish white light of the moon, eyes glimmering with stardust as she tries for an apologetic smile.

“sorry, ji.”

there’s no attempt at a further explanation, and jihyo doesn’t ask for one. dahyun can be a wall of unreadable emotion when she wants to, and right now, that’s all jihyo can see.

it hurts, somehow.

that her guard is up when it’s just jihyo and her.

like there’s something to protect.

(like jihyo would not do her all to protect it. to protect her.)

“i’m not going to go into the whole smoking is bad for you lecture—but i just…you—i hope you know what it is you’re getting into.”

she tumbles over her words. as she always does when it comes to dahyun. she’s not sure why dahyun’s soft, shining eyes always instill her with such a sense of nervousness, hesitation. like she’s not sure if her feet are placed right on top of a tall, looming cliff.

dahyun rolls her eyes good-naturedly, pulling another chair from her side for jihyo to sit on.

“i know, i know. i’ve been doing it since last year, so i think i’m pretty familiar with the side effects.”

last year? dahyun’s been smoking since last year? how on earth did jihyo not even notice? she’d thought the three youngest of their little family had the most of her attention, because of their propensity to get into trouble.

“why? i mean—why’d you start?”

jihyo asks, as she sits down next to dahyun, cool plastic meeting her skin where her shorts don’t reach. it’s a startling feeling, almost as startling as seeing dahyun lift the cigarette up to her lips once more, breathing in slowly.

“to be honest? i don’t know.”

there. that’s one of dahyun’s tells. jihyo prides herself on being able to tell when any of them are lying to her, and dahyun’s has always been the three special words that prefix her statement.

it hurts.

she’s being lied to twice overall. the first, for whatever lie dahyun’s concocted to hide what she feels. the second, that dahyun’s being honest.

it hurts more because dahyun says it most often around jihyo.

“it’s just something i picked up. i was at the convenience store one day, when i saw a pack by the counter. i guess the clerk was pretty busy, or they didn’t care, because i just swiped it and moved on. that was my first one. eventually, i just started buying them.”

dahyun’s stolen, too. how much more does jihyo not know about dahyun? how much more has she failed one of their youngest?

“don’t worry, ji, i only buy a pack once a month.”

dahyun smiles at her, and the attempt at easing jihyo’s worries goes for nothing, because jihyo will always worry about dahyun.

“that doesn’t comfort me in the slightest, but you’re grown up now, so you’re in charge of you.”

jihyo sighs, and it’s a genuine one. with the expelling of air also comes the expression of…disappointment? melancholy? malcontent? the expression of something bad.

“grown up, huh?”

dahyun looks towards the street, cigarette hanging from her lips. her lips…a distinct shine gleams to them, a thin white strip glossing over her smooth skin, and jihyo’s quickly averting her eyes.

“i don’t feel grown up at all.”

jihyo sharply inhales, because it’s a crack in the wall. dahyun’s wall. and she never has cracks in her wall.

“how come?”

jihyo tries not to sound too eager, because getting to know kim dahyun is hard, and when she offers a chance like this, you can be damn sure jihyo’s going to take it.

“i don’t know, really. i still feel like i’m that little six year old girl you picked up and basically adopted all those years ago, riding my bike around the block and always tripping over myself.”

dahyun hugs her knees closer, and the urge to wrap her in her arms is there, like they always did when they were just two kids in the neighborhood, playing with imaginary stories and singing their made up songs.

it’s a far cry from what they are now, two childhood friends that have slowly drifted apart over time, only coming together again because of mutual friends.

“i don’t feel grown up, because i’m still making the same mistakes.”

dahyun turns to her, and in those eyes of hers, jihyo can only see her own uncertainty reflected in them, swirling in a galaxy of the unknown, with stars of dubious conviction dotting the horizon.

“mistakes like what?”

jihyo asks, even though she knows she’s pushing. pushing the limits of what jihyo should know about dahyun, the limits of what lies behind dahyun’s wall, more cracks beginning to show in its surface.

she’s close, so close.

dahyun takes a deep breath, putting out the cigarette on the wall, embers sparking against the concrete, and flicks the butt out through the gaps in the gate.

then dahyun turns to her, and her cool hand secures itself on jihyo’s neck, a blast of chill against the heat she’s been feeling ever since she stepped outside and laid eyes on dahyun.

“mistakes like this.”

dahyun murmurs, not that jihyo catches it.

because in the next moment, dahyun’s lips are on hers, the tension exploding into fireworks in the sky as dahyun’s soft, soft, soft lips are now touching jihyo’s.

this close, their noses touching, jihyo can almost breathe dahyun like she’s air, cool and breezy at the top of a mountain, and just the right amount of thinness to it that it feels like jihyo’s at the peak of the atmosphere, oxygen beginning to run empty.

it’s wonderful, it’s amazing, it’s everything jihyo’s ever wanted.

except the taste of ash and smoke rises to the surface.

jihyo’s the first to pull away, even though she doesn’t want to.

“…i—what? dahyun, you—what were you—i don’t…”

the moment’s gone as quick as lightning, because dahyun’s standing up, trudging back to the house. behind her, she leaves a trail of longing, yearning that seeps into jihyo’s skin, buzzing electric like the static of a power line.

jihyo’s left there in a daze, until nayeon comes out looking for her.

“babe? you alright?”

she should tell nayeon, her girlfriend of almost two years now. it’s only fair, nayeon would tell her immediately if the same happened to her.

“yeah, i’m…i’m good.”

it hurts.

[brokenhardies]

inspired by @symphonic-scream i decided to write the uniform differences for the bitbo gang!

Winter

Yusuke - Pretty much the same uniform as canon Akira, after the first arc he switches to a similar top to his canon one, with the fleur-de-lis patch on the right breast and everything. Doesn't wear the blazer. Akechi - Black turtleneck over the regular Shujin uniform. No blazer. Wears a red choker and studded bracelets on each wrist as a sign of rebellion against Principal Shido. Has piercings - I imagine a nose piercing and maybe snake bites? Probably gauges as well? Futaba - Wears a red sweater over the turtleneck. Also no blazer (gee im sensing a pattern). Skirt is the same length as most students, in fact probably wears it a bit lower. Wears black mary janes instead of the loafers, and knee high light grey socks with rabbit emblems on the side Akira - No tie, pops his collar, open blazer covered in pins and badges. Cuffs his pants, wears black combat boots with his uniform instead. Has twin studs in his ears, a nose ring and wears a whole lotta jewelery and other decorations. Has a matching necklace with his brother Ren Haru - Surprisingly less prim and proper than her role as Student Council President would suggest. Pale pink sweater over the turtleneck, buttons up the blazer from the top to the middle. Wears black tights and the same loafers as every other girl. Has red rose earrings in each ear. Wears a pink headband Ann - Wears a similar varisty hoodie as her canon uniform - with blue lining and a gigantic 'S' at the bottom - but its unzipped, being over the button down top of the Kosei uniform. Wears the bow tie of the Kosei uniform, but with a heart shaped button stitched to the centre. Rolls her skirt up, but wears shorts beneath the skirt, and navy blue legwarmers over the typical brown loafers. Wears black and white striped scrunchies that match the tie 'Sumire' - Much like Yusuke, wears the same Shujin uniform as her canon counterpart, just with long black tights and a pair of light blue ballet flats. Wears a blue and white striped headband

Summer

Yusuke - Same as Akira's in canon - polo shirt with the same pants and shoes as the winter uniform Akechi - Wears a black Featherman tank-top instead of the white polo. Cuffs his pants somewhat. Keeps the red choker and studded bracelets from his winter attire, but adds on some extra bracelets that go up the left side of his arm Futaba - Wears the same polo and skirt as the rest of the girls, but with the polo tucked into the skirt and the skirt rolled up slightly. Wears biker shorts beneath the skirt and has a lime green hoodie tied around her waist with triforce symbols on it. Replaces her grey thigh high socks with ankle high white ones covered in black rabbits. Wears the same mary janes as in Winter Akira - Unbuttons the shirt all the way, revealing he's wearing a black tank top with a band logo on it. Still pops the collar and lacks the tie. Switches the boots for a pair of white plimsoll shoes with a tonne of little doodles on them. Cuffs his pants and has been trying to get Ann to make them more like shorts Haru - Wears the same polo and skirt as the rest of the girls, but the polo is tucked into the skirt and held up by a black belt. Switches out her tights for pale pink ankle high socks and wears the same loafers as the rest of the school. Switches her rose earrings for daisies and wears a white headband instead of a pink one Ann - Wears the shirt untucked and slightly unbuttoned at the bottom - occasionally will tie it up into a little ribbon over the skirt. Doesn't wear the tie this time around - it's too warm for that. Doesn't have shorts this time, but does keep her navy blue legwarmers from before. Has one of her black and white striped scrunchies on her right wrist 'Sumire' - Wears a pale pink cardigan over the polo shirt, black skirt and blue ballet flats. Keeps the blue and white headband from her Winter uniform

[berrykis]

Ace freaks out. Sabo has been getting contractions while hunting with Ace for berries, he’d been clutching his small swell of his pregnant belly and quickly turn to a nearest tree to lean his back on. The contractions were everywhere especially around his pelvis.

Struggling to put his shorts down because he has to unzip and blah blah, Ace immediately rushed to his side after realizing what condition Sabo’s in. He’s in LABOR.

Huffing and panting from the pain, Sabo yelled at Ace when he got infront of him panicking, “CUT MY FUCKING PANTS D-DAMN IT!”

Startled by Sabo’s loud voice Ace still did as he’s told. Using his strong masculine arms with all his strength to rip apart his pants easier access for Sabo.

“I-I can’t- Ace- ACE.”

Everything was like a blur, Sabo finally slid everything down. He feels the baby wanting to come out but it hurts, so bad.

They don’t have time to call for Makino or Dadan. So they have to do this themselves. Sabo needs Ace to stay by his side.

“Im here I’m here, uhm-“ Ace says, stuttering. Words tumbling into each other because sabo is sweating and tears are falling down his cheeks looking down where his baby is about to come out any second.

“Wait, here let me.” Ace uses the ripped shorts from sabo and tugs it away and places it down infront of him. So the baby won’t be wet and dirty in the grass of the jungle.

“You’re doing all right, ‘Bo, I’ll- I’ll get someone after this. You got this..” holding his hand tight with a squeeze while Sabo is silently screaming as he feels another painful contraction.

The tree against his back isn’t helping either, rough texture and all.

Finally, the baby’s head is finally coming out, and Sabo’s first instinct is to check on the baby even if it’s impossible because of his anatomy.

“ACE! THE BABYS HEAD IS OUT I THINK- CHECK PLEASE CHECK. CHECK!! AA-“ gripping the grass around him, he starts to pull them out while pushing,

“IS IT? AH RIGHT. I see it, wait-“

Ace gets in position infront of him to help the baby properly get out without any issues during the birth.

Not trynna get a dead baby with an umbilical cord wrapped around its neck.

-

It’s a very traumatizing experience since they’re just- teens. In the next few months Ace would turn 17 not long till Sabo does too.

Anyways, Ace had ripped his tank top too so when the baby was have way out, he gently pulled him out.

Finally being born. Ace cleaned him off with his tank top, from any blood and fluids. Sabo layed back the tree and a loose grip on his arm made Ace turn to him. “Hah.. he’s- he’s here.. our baby..ace. Ace let me hold him. Please..”

Throat sore and scratchy from the labor made Sabo extremely tired but he wanted to stay up a little more for his new babe. Ace was about to cry, he too was emotional and tired from it but so grateful for Sabo and their new baby. “Yeah,” gently holding the baby in his arms again he slowly placed him in Sabo’s arms. The baby was small, very small. But they still loved him.

Because that’s their baby. They made him. And they’re so happy he’s been born. Luffy.

Hugging sabo and kissing his temple muttering “thank you, thank you, I love you so much ‘Bo, you were so good. Love you-“

the baby was crying, as a newborn should be. Waddling a little in Sabo’s arms. Sabo was crying, of joy and emotional relief that their baby had just been born despite the circumstances.

He tugged down his sweater from his shoulders and let them fall till his small tits were in view and access for the baby to nurse. And so it did, their baby was warmly nursing and getting his neutrons it needed.

Sabo and Ace enjoyed this little moment for a while before they decided to wash him up with clean water from their lake. (?)

Ace carrying Sabo in his arms of course, bridal style while the small premature baby was nicely tucked in Sabo’s arms.

Their baby was so small they had to careful with holding him, they cleaned his head gently. Surprisingly Luffy was born with almost a full head of cute black hair.

Got it from his daddy of course.

Premature baby Luffy and his two young parents who’re crying at the sight of his birth, Sabo who’s back is leaning on a tree and Ace trying to wrap them both close, a wild jungle birth. They weren’t prepared for this but they were so grateful for luffys birth

[icyharrington]

Writing prompt 142 with Eddie?

142. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

oooo finally an opportunity to write some pissed off eddie content teeheeeeee okok lets do it !!! PS I AM STILL TAKING PROMPT REQUESTS !! the og post is on my page so go check it out and send me one if you’re interested! :3 also sorry if this sucks im not used to writing multiple different fics/blurbs/whatevers in 1 day dfjgkdjfg

contains: jealous!eddie, mean eddie, dirty talk, degradation, fingering, general rough/mean dynamic (he still luvs you tho don’t worry uwu)

You’ve never seen Eddie this angry before, and your body is caught in limbo between utter terror and arousal.

So you’d fucked around with Steve Harrington- you and Eddie were on a break! And a well-deserved one, at that, considering that he’d been devoting all of his time to his fantasy campaigns rather than his real life, human girlfriend.

Eddie stands before you in his bedroom, his wide brown eyes unusually cold as they size you up. His arms are folded protectively in front of his graphic t-shirt, a prominent frown on his lips. “So what you’re telling me, (y/n)- and correct me if I’m wrong here- is that you let Steve Harrington’s dick inside you? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”

He sounds so sarcastic, yet so deadly serious; it sends an uncomfortably cool chill up your spine, and you’re unsure of what’s about to happen.

You look him dead in the eyes despite the anxiety it causes you, unwilling to back down. “Yes, Eddie, I did. I fucked Steve Harrington. So fucking what? We were on a goddamn break! It’s not like you ever wanted to fuck me while we were together.”

“That is such bullshit, (y/n),” Eddie seethes, taking a lingering step towards you. You stand frozen in place, your limbs unwilling to move from where they’re planted. “Every time you’re in the mood to fuck, it’s when I’m busy with Hellfire!”

“You’re always busy with Hellfire!” you scream at him, one-upping him by taking your own hopefully-menacing step in his direction.

“What about that night in my van when you turned me down? Or when you told me to stop being gross when I was feeling up your ass, hm?” He cocks his head threateningly, sauntering until he’s face-to-face with you.

“I just said that because I was in a bad mood, Eddie,” you murmur, feeling a little guilty about the exchange in retrospect. Usually you loved when Eddie would touch you, even by surprise- he’d just happened to catch you on a bad day. “I don’t think you’re gross.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause I think you do. I think you find me downright disgusting. That’s why you ran off to go spread your legs for Steve Harrington- to find out what it’s like to fuck a real man. Right, (y/n)?” His eyes are welled with tears, though he’s good at keeping them at bay, with his face contorted into a scowl. “Making a fucking fool of me, huh? Dating the freak and fucking the jock. I bet you did it before our break, you fucking slut.”

He’s shaking, and you want to hug him, though you’re scared what will happen if you do. You mentally kick yourself for even allowing the secret to slip in the first place, but you never would’ve forgiven yourself if you hadn’t told the truth.

Now, though, you wonder if it would’ve been worth it to lie, just to prevent Eddie from believing all the other untrue parts his mind had invented. “Eddie, I would have never done that to you!”

He drags his eyes up and down your body, taking in the short skirt you’re wearing, paired with a pair of platform boots and a cropped sweater. When he speaks, he doesn’t reference anything you just said, evidently too wound up in his emotions to process much else. “Yeah, prancing around at school looking like that, huh? You dressed like that for Steve, didn’t you? Wanted him to take you in the bathroom and fuck you stupid?”

You whimper; you aren’t certain if he’s intentionally trying to make you horny right now, but for some unfathomable reason… you so are. “No, Eddie. I promise you, I don’t want Steve. It was a stupid mistake, Eddie, I swear! I was upset about us being on a break, and I just…I don’t know! I fucked up!”

“Yeah, you’re right, (y/n). It was a stupid mistake.” He takes in a breath, seeming to ponder on what his next action will be, before he shoves you back onto his bed. “Real fucking stupid. That’s my pussy you’re throwing around like a tramp, get it?”

He flips up your skirt, grasping your pussy between your legs and rubbing you harshly through the thin lace fabric of your panties. “Oh, I’m sure Steve Harrington could never get your pussy as pathetically wet as I can.”

You don’t say anything, moaning out at the rough motions of his callused hand against your soaked underwear; if he continued doing this for another minute or so, you’d probably cum without needing him to do anything else. He smacks your cheek lightly in response to your silence, narrowing his dark eyes at you. “Could he?”

“N-no, Eddie,” you whisper, letting out a strangled whine when he moves your panties to the side and presses two fingers into you abruptly. “I told you, it was a mistake. I want you, Eddie.”

“Could he make you feel as good as I do?” he demands, taking your jaw in one hand and jerking it so that you’re facing him. “Hm?”

You shake your head rapidly, a helpless look on your face as you silently beg for his forgiveness (which you know is already granted, though you don’t expect him to tell you that quite yet). “No, Eddie. Never.”

“Fuckin’ thought so,” he says as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, adding a third in order to stretch you wider. “You’re lucky I love you enough to teach you a lesson instead of kicking your ass to the curb.”

He’s not serious- at least about the kicking-you-to-the-curb bit, though the way he’s speaking to you is making your skin prickle over with warmth. There’s just something about your soft, sweet Eddie being mean that turns you on beyond belief.

Looking up at him with wide doe eyes, you hold back a knowing smirk. “You’re right, Eddie. I am lucky.”

[f1nalboys]

Okay, okay! So I love your poly!Ghostface dark/angst, but I wanna see you do some poly!Ghostface dark/fluff too(if that's a thing?)! Still unhealthy/toxic relationship, but one where their feelings are at least actually true and genuine. Trio vs the World shit. Best Friends to Lovers blah blah blah cause you know Im a slut for that lmao. NSFW too if you're willing 👀

AHH so glad I finally got to this request I'm sorry it took me so long :(( HOWEVER i had fun writing it!! i really hope you enjoy (ps, no smut unfortunately i tried to add it and it was coming out wrong ahhh) flashbacks are italicized! 

WORD COUNT: 2352

WARNINGS: toxic relationship, kinda cute moments between the three of you, cursing, little bit of stalking, threats of violence, no nsfw because i was a little lazy sorry :,(

Had someone told you five years ago that you'd be dating not only Billy Loomis but Stu Macher as well, you’d have laughed straight in their face. And yet here you were, curled up on the couch between the two, your legs thrown over Billys and your head resting on Stu’s shoulder, watching a horror movie. You smile softly as you feel Billy’s hand grip your thigh slightly. He never seemed to realize he was doing it which made it even cuter.

“Remember the day I met you guys?” You question, head moving off of Stu’s shoulder when he turns to look at you. He gives you a goofy grin and nods, kissing the tip of your nose. “Sure, baby. Why?”

“Did you think we would have gotten together? Like, back then?”

“Definitely,” Billy says, poking his finger into your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, catching his hand and holding it in your lap. He sighs, grinning slightly. “Alright, maybe not the day we met, but I knew pretty soon. Why? What’s got you thinking about it?”

You shrug, not really sure yourself. Something about the situation you three were in at the moment made your mind drift to those few awful god damn weeks. “You two really sucked then, you know? Honestly, I’m surprised I didn't kill you both.”

Stu gasps, throwing himself back with a hand on his heart. You roll your eyes; ever the dramatic. “You would have hurt us? I can’t believe this… the betrayal!” You elbow him and he sits back up, laughing, and wraps his arms around you, planting a few sloppy kisses onto your neck.

“We weren’t even that bad, babe.” Billy says, eyes widening as you glare at him.

“Not that bad? Do I need to remind you of the first thing you said to me when we met?” You shoot back, sitting up closer to Stu. You had already forgiven the two for how they acted then, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give them a hard time.

The first day you met Billy and Stu, it had started out good. You still didn’t have many friends but that was perfectly okay with you. You were sat in the grass outside one of the buildings where your next class was held, waiting. Thirty more minutes and you got to go to math; yay. You were leaned up against a tree, headphones in, trying to relax, when two men stood in front of you. They were pretty cute. One was tall, wearing a thin sweater and a goofy grin, while the other was shorter with dark hair and a smirk. The tall one's mouth moves and you pull your earbuds out, about to apologize for not hearing him, when the shorter one speaks.

“Pretty stupid to wait for someone to talk to you before taking your headphones out.” His smile was still there but it was clearly masking his annoyance. Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the gall of this dude. You don’t even know him and he thinks he’s owed a conversation?

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re deaf and a bitch?” The taller one slaps the back of his head immediately and he grumbles, rubbing the soreness. You scoff, shaking your head, fuming. Was it just this dude or were most people here dicks? You didn't want to find out.

You stand, grabbing your bag and pushing past the two, heading towards the building. Your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “Hey, I’m sorry about him, really. That’s how he jokes and sometimes it comes across as mean. I’m Stu and he’s Billy.”

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face Stu, the taller one, and take a second to think of a response. Glancing over at Billy, who had finally caught up with you, you can see what resembles regret on his features. “Well, he didn’t come across as mean, he came across as an asshole.”

Stu laughs, nodding. Billy shrugs, giving you that same weak smile he had shown when he approached. You shrug your backpack up higher onto your shoulder, the weight of it starting to get to you, when Billy grabs ahold of it and yanks it off of you. “What the hell? Give me my shit back!”

“Least I can do is to carry it for you. You going to class?” He asks. It’s like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You give a large sigh and nod, silently thankful for the weight off your shoulders. “Which building?”

“Sycamore.” He nods and begins to walk there, you and Stu trailing behind him. “Is he always so...?” You ask Stu under your breath, trailing off, unsure of a word that could describe the man. He grins and nods. “Annoying? Mean? Stubborn? Yes, yes, and yes.”

Billy groans at the memory, annoyed. He hated when you brought that up. “I told you I was just having an off day! Come on, you’re acting like Stu didn’t offend you too! Do you not remember when you got food with us, like, that night?” Stu punches Billy in the shoulder hard, pissed that he had brought it up.

“Oh yeah! I kinda forgot about how much of a dickhead Stu was,” You say, leaning back against the couch. It really was a shock your relationship with the boys got to where it was now.

Billy and Stu followed you around all day. It seemed they were trying to apologize for Billy’s attitude earlier but, if you were being honest, it was kind of unnerving. After your math class, where they had walked you inside the building and only left when the professor came in, you saw them waiting outside under the tree you had been at.

“Can you guys stop following me?” You had told them the third time you noticed them, this time at the small diner you stopped by after your last class. Stu’s face turned red and he looked behind him as if there was someone else you could be talking about. “Yeah, you two.”

“We wanted to apologize for earlier,” Billy said, motioning for you to join them at their table. You had to choose which one to sit next too and, after your not-so-pleasant meeting with Billy that morning, you sat next to Stu. He sticks his tongue out at Billy who rolls his eyes.

“You already apologized. It’s getting kind of creepy.” You say, placing your elbow on the table. Before the boys could respond, the waitress walks over, placing down their drinks. She flashes you a smile and takes your order, walking off with a sway in her hips, much to the boy's enjoyment.

Stu throws an arm over your shoulder and you shrug him off, ignoring the pained look he gives you. “We just wanted to make sure you really knew we were sorry! Billy here never acts right around a hottie,”

“Stu you fucking idiot.” Billy spits, throwing something at him. Stu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Billy looks at you and gives you what looks like a real, genuine smile. “Sorry about him; he can’t seem to think with his upstairs brain.”

“Don’t need to when my downstairs one leads me to be sitting next to a smoke show,” Stu says, holding his hand out to you for a high five. Your face flushes and you ignore him, scooting away from him slightly. He was cute, sure, but way too forward. “What? Can’t compliment people anymore?”

“Not when your compliments are preceded by stalking.” You mutter, a part of you hoping he doesn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does. You see his face change in your peripheral vision and your eyes flick over to Billy. He grins at you, sitting back in the booth, and taking a sip from his drink. He was enjoying this.

“Stalking? You’re fucking with me, right?” His rant is cut short by the return of the waitress who hands you your drink and places the food the boys had ordered onto the table, completely oblivious to your discomfort. She leaves and Stu grabs a fry from his plate, chewing loudly. “We’re not fucking stalking you - trust me, there are better ways to spend our time.”

Billy throws his balled up straw wrapper at Stu, catching his attention, and you let out a soft sigh of relief when Stu’s demeanor changes. He was back to smiling and laughing as if he hadn’t just been attempting to tear you to shreds. “Sorry about that… I’m pretty tired, that’s all.” Stu says, playing with his fingers.

“S’okay, I guess.”

“Why don’t you let us take you on a date? You know, as an apology?” Billy chimes in and Stu grins, nodding. A large part of yourself was screaming no. There was something off about these boys, something dark just under the surface, but you were intrigued. And so you smile.

“Yeah, I guess you two can do that.”

Billy had his arms wrapped around you, laughing at the excuses Stu was stammering out. He was obviously getting frustrated at the memory and you opened your arms to let him join in on the cuddling.

“You know, I really am glad we stuck together. I don’t know what I’d do if it were for our nightly cuddle sessions,” You say, your words muffled by Stu’s sweater. He pulls back and gives you a kiss, Billy swooping in to take one from him as well.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without our fuck sessions,” Stu hums and you groan, punching him in the shoulder. What a way to ruin the moment. “Wait, let’s not act like you were a saint in all of this! I remember you being pretty awful at one point.”

“What?! No way!”

Billy nods, tickling your sides for a second. “Sure were, babe.”

Two months into the relationship was your breaking point. You really did like, if not love, the boys and yet you were still an outsider. Walking into the shared apartment just for their whispered conversations to stop. Late nights spent in the living room with hushed voices while you tried to sleep. You felt as though you only knew a portion of the two people you had come to like; no, love.

You admit it was petty. It wasn’t the right thing to do in any circumstance, but you did it because you knew it would get a reaction. You had packed a bag and sat in the living room. You wanted them to see you leave. Wanted them to see how much their secrecy had taken. You had been together only a short while and yet you felt so at home with them that the idea of actually leaving, of breaking it off, nearly tore you apart.

The door opens and in enters Billy and Stu, wrapped up in their own conversation. Stu waves at you, carrying on before realizing what he had just seen. “Babe? What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” Your voice was confident, not a waver in sight, and you knew it was because you weren’t planning on leaving. Some would call it manipulation, sure, but you were backed into a corner. Stu’s mouth drops open and Billy stares at you, his eyes narrowed.

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Stu rushes to sit down next to you on the couch, not wanting to accept the idea that you were leaving them on your own volition. His arms wrap around yours and you shove him off. “Babe?”

You shake your head, standing from your spot on the couch, grabbing ahold of the bag. Billy was still standing near the door, his arms crossed, watching you. “Don’t call me that. The two of you… It’s like I’m not even in this relationship. I’m an outsider with the two people I love and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” Billy questions, grabbing ahold of your arm when you try to walk past him. His voice is thick and you could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. He was angry and you hate to admit it but that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

For the next two hours the three of you talk about your relationship and the future of it. Stu cried, you cried, Billy sniffled a few times, and then you came to an agreement. No more secrets. They told you things that they hadn't told anyone before that they hid behind a vague threat of ‘once you hear this you’re stuck with us,’ and you told them things you had planned on taking to your grave. To say you weren’t shocked at what they told you would be a lie.

Murder wasn’t what you thought they were capable of and especially not murder so gruesome. But, oddly, you felt better about being with them. They trusted you, loved you, enough to let you know their biggest and darkest secret. And you loved it.

Knowing they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you was a major turn on, which they soon found out.

“Wow, I really was kind of horrible, wasn’t I.” You mutter as Billy recounts the memory with a few interruptions by Stu. You didn’t remember it that way but the more they talked the more you could tell they were being honest. “Well, good thing we stuck together, hm? Would have been pretty bad if we hadn’t.”

“Yeah because we would have killed you,” Billy whispers into your ear and you shiver. He’s telling the truth and that’s what makes the relationship the way it is; they choose to be with you, to keep you around, to love you. “Yeah, we would have given you a call a while ago,” Stu says, his finger making a slicing motion across your neck.

You roll your eyes not because you don’t believe them but because you do. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[typewrittenluck]

as the seasons change

C!Technoblade x gn!reader highschool!au

Word Count: 9.1k

Pronouns: they/them

A/N: this is literally so self indulgent, i spent a whole day writing this because im going through my techno feels rn. it basically follows the story of oblivious Y/N and Techno throughout the four seasons :)

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Swearing, Smoking, Drugs (very brief)

Suggested Songs: The State of Grace, Taylor Swift/ MEET ME AT OUR SPOT, THE ANXIETY, WILLOW, Tyler Cole/ that way, Tate McRae/ Falling, Chase Atlantic/ Compass, The Neighborhood

SUMMER------------

The August air was thick with the heat of the almost-setting sun. Her rays beat down on the backs of the group of teens, and mosquitos filled the silences between them with their incessant buzzing.

A small crack of static preceded the soft sound of music, accompanied by the sharp smack of Niki and Jack’s celebratory high-five.

“Didn’t you start setting up the speaker like an hour ago?” questioned Wilbur, who was sunk into a half-broken lawn chair that he had found in the garage. 

“Yeah, it would have been much faster if you had asked Techno” chimed Y/N from their place leaning against the above mentioned man’s leg.

His grunt of response was cut short by his little brother, Tommy, bursting into laughter.

“Because he’s TECHno! Get it?!”

Everyone groaned and Wilbur smacked Tommy upside the head, grumbling about “shouldn’t have let you come hang out with us”

Y/N giggled at that, but took sympathy on the boy. “Aww don’t be like that Wil, Tommy, I thought that was hilarious.”

“Don’t encourage him, Y/N” Techno leaned down to murmured to them in his low, monotonous voice.

There it was. The way he said their name! The way his calf felt under Y/N’s back! The way he whispered sentences directly to them, as if it was some closely guarded secret. It was enough to bring butterflies to their stomach as they praised whatever higher being was out there for the heat of the day covering their blush.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Fundy moaned, kicking Wilburs shin from his place lying facedown on the grass. “Can we go to the pool or something?”

His request was met with a spectrum of responses, varying from Tommy’s “YES, PLEASE WILL? PLEASE!” to Technoblades indifferent shrug.

Jack took note of Technoblades open response with a shout of laughter. “TECHNOBLADE IN THE POOL! I WOULD PAY GOOD MON-”

“I’m not getting in, dumbass.”

“Why? Scared you’ll ruin your hair?”

“No, he doesn’t want us to know he’s secretly jacked under the sixteen sweaters he wears.”

Technoblade picked up the hem of his sweatshirt, making eye contact with Niki. She has a point.

“How do you wear that in the Summer?”

“It’s n- TOMMY!!” 

Shrieks of laughter follow Tommy’s water gun assault on his brother. “When did he slip away to go get those?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“WHEN ARE WE LEAVING??” Tommy asked enthusiastically. 

---

A crowded minivan, a stop to pick up Tommy’s friend, and a raid of Phil’s linen closet for pool towels later, the group arrived at the neighborhood pool. The sun hung low in the horizon as people spilled out of Phil’s van and began dragging the pool toys and water guns towards the gate.

The air around the black metal bars barring their entrance to the pool seemed to quiver. 

“I think Wil has the pool key.” piped Niki in response to Fundy throwing his weight against the fence. 

Fundy, in turn, sprinted back to the car, where Wilbur was taking inventory of snacks (and probably hiding the best for himself). 

Technoblade looked down at the two younger boys and Y/N conversing in hushed whispers. All of a sudden, they screamed out in perfect synchronization, in equally high pitched voices,

“Let me innnn! Let me in pleaseeee!”

And promptly burst into giggles. Y/N almost toppled into Techno, both from laughing and the slight weariness from the heat. 

The pool noodles he was balancing beneath his arms (laden with tote bags of pool toys and towels) toppled to the ground, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N’s hand steadying themself on his chest, and the way his face began to heat up almost unbearably considering the weather. 

“Oops, sorry!” they squeaked, leaning down to pick up the fallen noodles.

Technoblade was burst out of his daze by the return of his brother and Fundy, who triumphantly swiped the access card against the pad before kicking the gate wide open.

The clang of metal against the concrete pool clubhouse sent reverberating waves into the air, and everyone winced as the metal continued to drag. 

Pool entrances varied, Niki, on the one hand, took her time tip-toeing into the water by the stairs, while Tubbo and Tommy almost knocked each other out crashing over the edge to the deep end.

Y/N chuckled at their antics, but seeing as they had settled on not getting wet today, they picked out a chaise in the shade and pulled a book and pen out of the small bag they had brought with them.

Technoblade watched them with almost unwavering interest, unless someone happened to look his way, in which case he would quickly turn back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his home screen until they turned away.

From his spot under the little roof of the clubhouse, he had an almost unobstructed view of Y/N, and how they chewed at the end of the pen they used to annotate their book. Oh how he wished he could read the little notes they scribbled in the margins, or the drawings they would surround words with when they got distracted from reading. And the way that pen dangled from their lips, their tantalizing, soft lips. Taunting him, almost. And their jewel-like, bright eyes. Always so inviting and playful; like the way they were meeting his right now-

Shit

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that intently. A small quirk of their eyebrow and a smirk on their lips was enough to make his heart give out. But not now. Not when they were waving their hand so intently to get him to sit next to them. Pretending to ponder the decision and gather his belongings, (when in reality he was just collecting his bearings), he walked over to them.

“See! You don’t always want to be alone, Mr. I’m so antisocial and I hate everyone!” they smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

You’re the only exception, he thought, his brain screaming and pushing to let the words leave his mouth. He couldn’t though, not when they could never think of him the way that he thought of them.

So he answered with a small smile and a chuckle. 

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray! Remember you said you thought I’d enjoy it?” they answered with enthusiasm, that sparkle still evident in their eyes.

It warmed his heart to know that they had taken the suggestion and committed to the book, which was admittedly a pretty tough read, because of him.

“How could I forget?”

Their smile widened and they buried their head back in the book, that cursed pen once again being squished between their plush lips.

Technoblade peered over their shoulder to see that they were nearing the middle of the book, where Dorian returns from his  theater date with Basil and Henry. Feeling satisfied enough that they were invested in the story, given their gasp and furious scribbling in the margins, he felt it safe enough to stare at them under the orange-tinged glow of the sunset. 

Of course, he forgot about the crowd of his friends who were nudging each other and whispering about his infatuation with you. The whispers reached Wilbur who narrowed his eyes in his twin's direction and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Once dark hit and the water began to run a little too cold for anyone's taste, they began to wrap themselves up in towels and raid Wilburs snack stashes. The snack distribution was cut off by Wilburs phone, screen lit up with a zoomed in photo of none other than Philza. 

DADZA!!! Read the contact name as Wilbur swiped the screen and held the phone between his shoulder and ear, continuing to hand out snacks.

“OI, where in fucks sake are you lot? It’s an hour past the devils ass why i…”

The rest of Phil’s screaming faded as Wilbur walked away to calm his father down. 

“AN HOUR PAST THE DEVILS ASS” Y/N screamed with laughter, sending the entire group into raucous peals of giggles.

“Yep, mhhm, we’ll be there” Wilbur walked back towards the group, motioning for everyone to get in the car.

“Yes dad I know, yes, okay we will drop him off. Okay, bye” Hanging up the phone, he ushered people back into the car, holding Tubbo back by his upper arm so that he could sit with easiest access to the door.

After dropping Tubbo off, and then doubling back and driving around town to drop people off at various houses, Technoblade, Tommy and Wilbur were alone in the car with Y/N. 

“Here. Here. WIL! Pull over!” 

The van screeched to a halt as Y/N clambered over Tommy’s long legs, almost falling out onto the pavement. They leaned against the door of the passenger seat, thanking Wilbur and bidding farewell to the brothers. Just before they stepped away, Technoblade leaned down and kissed the crown of their head where it was leaning against his open window. Their stunned expression was lost in the dark and the window slid shut as Wilbur slammed the gas pedal to make it back in time before his dad’s curfew.

“What the fuck was that” 

Technoblade gave him a glare, which lost its effectiveness when paired with the burning red blush flooding his face and neck, highlighted under the harsh white lights of the car. He turned his face away and resigned to staring out the window, the night air filtering through the small crack giving his face a little bit of relief.

“Okay at least tell me, are you together?”

“No.”

“But he likes them!” piped up Tommy from the back seat, looking up from his phone where he was playing a game.

“No I- I don’t” Damnit The crack in his voice gave it away.

Wilbur, sensing that it seemed to be more of a sensitive topic than he thought, decided to drop the subject for the time being, and Tommy was already absorbed back in his game.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence as they raced against time and the rules of Philza Minecraft.

AUTUMN----------------------

School started a few weeks after the pool night, which was followed by many late nights and summer fun by the friends, the knowledge that half of them would be away to college next year heavy in the atmosphere. To say the least, Junior year was not treating Y/N well. They were almost always working on homework, if not doing SAT prep, and they rarely went out with their friends. The only time Technoblade got to see them was during his AP Lit class, and because of it, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Ms. Ren’s Literature classroom was the only place Technoblade seemed to see the old Y/N, the one from over the summer who got enthusiastic over books and gave him playful punches when he was a little too mean to their friends. Now, the only Y/N he saw was a stressed, tired person who was always carrying an energy drink in one hand and a stack of homework in the other. Except for in Lit. Y/n’s eyes would brighten as they discussed the reading from the previous night and their legs would jostle Technoblades from under their shared table to show him an annotation they had made. Technoblade assumed they were just rejuvenated from the literature, never once letting the thought cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the equation too.

On the rare occasion that they would hang out with their friends, they would be easily prone to tears and every conversation would be redirected to how tired and stressed they were. Of course, Technoblade wanted them to be happy, and felt enormous empathy for his friend in the harshest year of high school, but he had suddenly become hyper-aware that the clock was ticking on his time left with them. He was a senior this year, and while Y/N still had a year left to go, Technoblade would be on his way to college, perhaps out of the country, in less than a year. It wasn’t wrong to want to make the most of his time with them.

It didn’t help that this internal time bomb was also counting down the opportunities he had left to tell them how he felt.

-----

He decided to get to them when they were in a good mood, and more likely to say yes. After Ms. Ren had finished assigning the reading due by Monday, he turned to the beautiful person who sat next to him and muttered in a low voice, 

“How’s your weekend looking?”

They looked up with a bright smile and whispered back

“I have tons of homework but I should be able to knock it out with a good day of work. Why? What do you have in mind?”

He knew this was the right time to ask you. 

“Just be ready by 4pm on Saturday.”

----

Technoblade sat on the edge of his usually neat bed, now strewn with almost every sweater he owned. He was picking a stray piece of lint from the sweater nearest to him when he saw his brother walk past, then backtrack out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s got you all indecisive?” Wilbur asked, gesturing vaguely to the sweaters and random articles of clothing adorning his room.

“Wait! Is today your date with Y/N?”

“It’s not a date.” grumbled Technoblade.

“Then why are you so stressed about what to wear?” he replied with raised eyebrows.

Technoblade groaned and threw himself on top of the pile of wool on his bed. “I just need this to be perfect. Y/N needs a break, and they deserve everything to be just right.”

“And you want to impress them” sang Wilbur, now nudging Techno aside to sift through his sweaters.

Technoblades noise of indignation was muffled as Wilbur threw a cream colored sweatshirt at his face. 

“What about this?”

“I couldn’t find what to wear it with.”

Wilburs sigh rang through Technoblades room as he opened the closet, now in his proper mindset as the family fashion consultant. Garment after garment was thrown in Techno’s general direction, and he leaned and reached to grab them all. 

“Try that”

Technoblade walked out of the bathroom to find Wilbur rummaging through his jewelry. 

“When did I say it was fine for you to go through my stuff?” asked Technoblade, shoving Wilbur away. Wilbur shrugged in response, motioning for Techno to open his hand so that he could drop his selection of rings and necklaces into his open palm.

As Wilbur walked out the door, he thought he heard a faint “thank you”, and smiled to himself.

-----

“This is elaborate”

“I’m a dynamic man Y/N.”

Y/N laughed at his response to the back seat of Technoblades car, which was filled with “supplies” for the evening.

“That outfit sure is dynamic.”

“Why?” Technoblade asked nervously, drumming slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I didn’t think you could get any hotter but you somehow pulled it off!”

Realizing what they said, Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep red and they began to pick at their flannel. As soon as Technoblades surprise wore off, and the butterflies faded back to the dull sensation that always seemed to linger when he was around them, he let out a snort of laughter. That sent both of them into a fit which continued until Technoblade hit a pothole from laughing so hard. 

Y/N’s momentary fear only made them laugh harder, but Technoblade attempted to quell himself before he no longer had four functioning tires.

“Do I get to know where you’re taking me?” Y/N asked. They had driven a little ways out from the city, to the vaguely familiar areas that one only drives by when they’re leaving town.

“Yes.” He replied, slowing the car into a small parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

The pair entered the small bookshop and a bell rang overhead. The store smelled of dust and books and Technoblade saw Y/N breathing the scent in like a breath of new life. Of course, this ended up in a small coughing fit which he pulled them out of with a few pats to their upper back. 

“Okay we are on somewhat of a schedule, so I need you to go get a book. Any book, and meet me back at the register in 10 minutes.” He said, grabbing them by the shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Okay, Go!” 

And they both got lost in the mazes of words.

At 4:30 sharp, Y/N found Technoblade waiting for them at the register with a stiff red hardcover. He reached out for their book as they reached for their wallet. 

“Tech, no, you don’t have to buy me books I can get it myself”

If for nothing else, the way they shortened the already shortened version of his name made his heart stutter, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to buy them every book in this store. But he wordlessly nodded his head ‘no’ and paid for their two books. 

As they walked back to the car, Y/N admired the way his jewelry glistened in the sun. The gold necklaces contrasting against the black turtleneck he wore under his sweatshirt made them think of the summer, when his rings would shine under the sun and in the light of their almost nightly group bonfire. Technoblade opened the door for them when they got to the car, pink hair flying in his face because of the wind. Before getting in, Y/N threw their arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thanks”

They mumbled into his neck.

He blamed his pink cheeks on the cold.

-----

“Let me carry something!” Y/N argued as Technoblade led them down the path of a park a little ways away from the bookstore.

“No.” he answered, a basket and three bags dangling from his arms. 

The argument continued as they made their way down the paved path, leaves crunching underneath their feet. A little ways into the walk, when the conversation had faded to discussing the latest reading assigned by Ms. Ren, Technoblade stopped Y/N by throwing a tote bag-laden arm against their chest.

“Here.”

He parted the branches that covered a small, unpaved path that led deeper into the trees.

“How do I know you’re not trying to lure me here to kill me?” mused Y/N, already a few steps ahead of the pink-haired man on the pine-straw path.

“Yeah hold on, let me just get my axe out from this basket real quick” deadpanned Technoblade, earning a giggle from Y/N.

A few moments later, the path opened up to a clearing with a few fallen logs and a small brook trickling near the edge.

“This is beautiful Tech! How did you find this?” they asked with an awestruck expression.

He hid the way that his ears flushed with his hair and busied himself laying out the picnic supplies he had dragged all the way out here, mumbling something unintelligible.

Once he was done, he looked up to find an empty clearing, Y/N nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” he called

He received a response in the form of a small yelp and a rather loud splash. “Over here!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, sprinting over to the edge of the stream. Their giggles calmed him a little bit, but didn’t absolve him of all his worry as he subtly looked them over for any injuries. 

“I thought the rock would be steady enough to hold me” they pouted, gesturing vaguely at the rock in question, now shiny with water.

Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but hoisted them up nonetheless. Once they were back on solid ground, he curled his finger around the back of his sweatshirt's neckline and pulled it over his head, almost knocking off his glasses in the process. He missed the way Y/N’s eyes narrowed and focused on the way his black knit turtleneck hugged his figure, tucked into the dark brown trousers Wilbur had dug out of his closet just hours previously.

“Are you warm?” asked Y/N with an incredulous look, teeth slightly chattering.

“It’s for you, dumbass. You’re almost sure to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the gesture, and at the way Technoblade shushed them when they tried to argue.

He turned away as Y/N shed their dripping flannel and replaced it with the sweatshirt, warmed by his own body heat. 

When he turned back, he almost lost his breath again. Seeing them in his sweatshirt, the sleeves dangling past their fingertips and their hair a little tousled from pulling the garment over their head, messed with him just a little bit. He ignored the way that his cold-nipped nose was turning redder and redder and instead gently picked up their hand to guide them over to where he had set up the picnic, next to a towering tree with a thick trunk.

Both of them were hyper-aware of the way that his fingers held theirs, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from their touch. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but as they plopped down onto the picnic blanket sitting on the ground, their grip fell apart.

The loss of contact made the October day seem colder.

The muffled crunching of the leaves under their butts filled the air as they settled into a comfortable position and began digging through the picnic basket Technoblade had brought with food. The tension in the air slowly faded as they began to eat and the atmosphere filled with the joyous conversation of the two painfully oblivious teenagers. 

When they had both finished eating, Technoblade pulled out the bag that he had brought from the bookstore and handed Y/N their book. The smile that graced their lips as they mumbled out another ‘thank you’ brought another wave of butterflies down Technoblades stomach. He pulled out his own book and made himself comfortable against the thick tree trunk behind him. Y/N reached into their back pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the cap of the pen riddled with chew marks. 

The damn pen.

They stuck it between their teeth and let it hang off of the right side of their mouth. Technoblade felt his chest heat up as they nudged him over to share his spot leaning against the tree. He opened his phone and hit play on a mix of Arctic Monkeys and Gang of Youths, before leaning back to where his shoulder was pressed with theirs and opened his book.

Time seemed to forget its rules in this quiet little forest, with just Y/N and Technoblade lost in their separate worlds of words. The peace was only ever disturbed by Y/N occasionally scribbling something down in the margin of their book, to which Technoblade would demand to see, and they would fall into a small discussion about the topic.

These occasions slowly began to wane off until Technoblade felt Y/N lean their head against him with a thud. He looked down to see them fast asleep, half leaning on his shoulder with the pen still clutched between their fingers. He took note of the way the pen was balanced like a cigarette and the small puffs of air following their cold breath resembled smoke. Ignored the way his heart was almost convulsing on itself, he chose to wrap his arm around them and savour the moment.

Because he was aware that before he knew it, it would be over.

WINTER---------------------------

The student media center had a hushed atmosphere to it, as people took advantage of their last afternoon to study for semester finals. Winter break would let out the next day, but for the overwhelmed Juniors and Seniors now crowding the library, the excitement would not set in until they quelled their nervousness over the last final of the semester.

One of the study rooms situated in the back was now crowded with the notorious friend group as they crammed for their last final. Fundy, Jack and Niki were trading around their history notes, Wilbur and Minx were arguing over the proper situation of a unit circle, and Technoblade was flash quizzing Y/N on the Polyatomic ions. Their frantic studying was interrupted by their friend, George, who had gotten bored of watching his two best friends during their last football practice of the semester. He quietly walked in and took a seat in the corner, pulling out a notebook and studying something or the other. 

“Why aren't Dream and Sapnap here cramming with us?” Minx asked George.

“They have their ‘weightlifting’ final tomorrow” seethed George, most likely jealous of his friends’ somewhat pointless final.

Everyone laughed, and some groans of similar jealousy rang through the air right before the cracking loudspeaker of the school crunched to life, announcing that the doors would close at 6:00. Y/N looked down at their watch face, which read 5:45.

“Fuck, I’m never going to learn these charges! Don’t even get me started on the fact that I don’t have the solubility rules memorized!” squeaked Y/N in frustration. Everyone gave them a sympathetic look, knowing the rigorous emotional and mental demands of taking AP Chemistry.

“Don’t worry, you still have the whole night to study!” consoled Fundy.

Technoblade felt his heart break at the way their eyes filled with tears of frustration. 

“My siblings scream way too much, I can never concentrate at home”

“Come study at our house!” exclaimed Wilbur. “We can kick Tommy out so he won’t bother you!”

Wilbur sensed their hesitation and cut in before they could say ‘no’

“Come on, Dad won’t mind, he loves you! And it gives us an excuse to send Tommy out!”

Y/N turned their head in questioning to Technoblade, who grunted and nodded his head.

“I mean, if you’re sure”

Eager nodding.

“Thanks so much Wil!”

---

It was 11:50 and Phil’s living room resembled something closer to an FBI clue board, with flashcards and chemistry notes strewn on every possible surface. Wilbur had retired to bed after reviewing his Calculus notes one last time, and Tommy was spending the night at Tubbo’s. Phil leaned against the doorway and watched his son coach his best friend through the last few chapters of the textbook with a smile on his face.

“Make sure not to go to sleep too late! You need enough sleep for your final!” he called, retreating up the stairs.

Y/N checked their watch and sighed at the time. “I should get going soon.” they mumbled, beginning to collect their notes.

“Stay the night” suggested Technoblade, pulling a blanket over their shoulders to protect them from the December chill that seemed ever-present, even with the crackling fireplace illuminating the room. 

“I can’t-” A yawn cut their sentence “I can’t stay, I don't have anything and I’ve wasted enough of your time already”

Technoblade took them by the shoulders and looked them in the eyes, albeit having to lean down. “You can never waste my time”

Shivers ran through Y/N’s tired body and they offered him a weak smile.

He plucked the pen that was hanging from their mouth out and feigned disgust as he wiped it on their shirt, before throwing it in the pile of stationary by his feet.

“How about you stay for a hot chocolate?”

The invitation was too hard to resist so they gave in, as long as it was “only ten more minutes”.

Technoblade filled two mugs from the pot of the beverage that Phil had left on the stove, and topped it with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Y/N took the mug from him with a ‘thank you!’, and led the way back to the living room to nestle under the warmth of the fireplace. The pair were both exhausted from the day of studying, and chose to sip their beverages in silence. Before either of them knew it, they were both asleep under Y/N’s blanket, cuddled up against the cold of the night.

---

They woke up to the banging of Wilbur running down the stairs. 

“Shit, you two are still asleep?”

Y/N jumped up, knocking over their empty mug in the process. “Fuck, what time is it?” they asked, urgently rummaging around for their bag.

“8:00”

“What time is your final?” grumbled Technoblade, still half-asleep with no intention to get up until his final later that day.

“8:20” they whined, almost breaking down. 

“Hey, it’s fine, go get clothes from my room, take anything you want. I’ll drive you.” said Technoblade in a calming voice.

Y/N looked at him with desperate eyes and thanked him before retracing the familiar path to his bedroom.

Technoblade cracked his back and followed Wilbur into the kitchen, intending to make Y/N a nutritious breakfast and pack them a lunch, but was met with Wilburs smirking face.

“What’s the deal?” said Technoblade in his monotonous low, pulling things from out of the fridge.

“Are we going to ignore that you and Y/N slept together?”

“Gross you perv, we just fell asleep studying”

Wilburs smart-ass response was cut off by the arrival of the person in question, clad in one of Technoblades sweaters and sweatpants and ripping their fingers through their hair to attempt to tame it.

Technoblade ignored the all-too-familiar flutter of his heart at seeing them in his clothes and handed them a yogurt bowl he put together. “Let’s go, you can eat it in the car.”

They definitely broke laws driving at breakneck speed, but they pulled into the school parking lot at 8:15 and jumped out of the car, Technoblade following them to make sure they made it to the Chemistry classroom on time. With a minute and a half to spare, they arrived at the door to the classroom, earning a sigh of relief from both of them. 

Dr. Yachtrong ushered Y/N into the classroom, but not before Technoblade placed a kiss on their forehead and wished them good luck. They entered the classroom in a daze, which they quickly shook off when the tests were passed out.

---

The final bell rang for the day and the cheers rang around the school, drowning out the crunchy loudspeaker announcements to “have a good Christmas” and to “make good decisions”. Y/N had headed off to their last few classes following the Chemistry final, which had gone as good as one could expect a Chemistry exam to go. They were fairly sure they had passed which at this point, was a major win. As they left the History hallway, they saw their friend Karl leaving the art classroom. 

“Karl!” they waved him down.

“HEY! Y/N!!!” he giggled excitedly “Schools out!”

“I know!”

Excited chatter filled the hallways and they bumped into Sapnap, Punz, and Dream leaving the weights room. 

“How was your weightlifting final?” snickered Y/N

Punz answered with a slight push to their head. The group was shot out at the front courtyard, where almost all of their other friends were waiting.

The celebratory mood was punctuated by Karl inviting everyone over for an “Epic School Sucks Party” at his house later that night.

Y/N looked around, searching for the pink-haired man that had been flooding their thoughts more than usual lately.

He had been acting differently, nervous even, since the day they fell asleep on him at the park. Y/N was only scared last night's incident would make it worse.

“He’s probably finishing up his Latin stuff” murmured Wilbur, leaning down to their ear.

Y/N’s ears burnt a bright red upon knowing that Wilbur knew who they were looking for. They looked up to answer, but he had already gotten immersed in a conversation with Quackity and George. 

The man in question came out of the front doors of the building and made a beeline for their cluster of people upon seeing them. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the cuffs he wore on his slightly pointed ears, and the way his long pink hair fell behind his-

“Oi Y/N is that Technoblades sweater?”

Screw you Minx

“Y/N spent a surprise night over last night” snickered Wilbur, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It's. Not. Like. That.” screeched Y/N, punctuating each word with a smack to Wilbur, somewhat drowned in the laughs and gasps of everyone in their group.

“Why are we hitting Wilbur and can I join?” asked Technoblade once he integrated himself into the tangle of people. The laughs hushed as everyone turned to look between Y/N and Technoblade.

“What?”

-----

The heat of Niki’s curling iron sent warm shivers down Y/N’s neck, a grateful contrast to the harsh December chill plaguing the outdoors. She blew gently on the warm hair before letting it all fall back, tousling it to break up the curls.

“Thanks Niki!” said Y/N gratefully, examining themselves in the mirror. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do this someday.”

Niki laughed, already standing in front of the bathroom mirror to apply her eyeliner. With one eye closed, she spoke to the person now standing behind her, checking their outfit from different angles. 

“So really, what’s going on between you and Technoblade?”

She knew of their intense crush on the pink-haired boy, which had started somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year, but she also knew that Y/N tended to be more closed off about their deep personal life.

Y/N sighed, almost in disappointment. “Nothing. And that’s the problem.”

Due to Niki’s sympathetic look thrown their way, they fell down a rabbit hole of ranting which led them to where they were now; on the floor beside Niki’s bed with Y/N’s head in her lap.

“He always acts so weird around me. One minute he’s  holding my hand or kissing my forehead, and the next he won't even look at me, or only answers in short sentences. And it stresses me out because I think he hates me, but then he does shit like buying me books just to go read in a forest with him, or staying up all night with me to study for my Chemistry final, and I just-” They took a deep breath, containing their rambling.

“I just get more confused.”

----------

 Karls party was in full swing by the time Niki and Y/N got there. They were met at the door by Sapnap and Quackity, who for some reason were handcuffed to each other, and were both giggling and flushed. Y/N and Niki hung their coats on the rack by the door and walked into the festive atmosphere of the house, seeing familiar faces in every corner.

Despite the rowdy environment and the deafening noise, the party was relatively small, consisting of only 20 or so of Karls friends.

They followed Quackity and Sapnap into the living room where a semi-circle of people was lounging on various couches, passing around a blunt and playing what seemed to be truth or dare.

Ah. That’s where the handcuffs came from.

Niki and Y/N decided to play, Niki offering to go fetch them both drinks in the kitchen as Y/N found their place in the circle. To their surprise, Technoblade was there, seemingly uninterested in the game and more invested in something he was doing on his phone. Upon seeing Y/N, he gave them a smile, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and gestured to the small spot between him and the couch armrest. All eyes followed Y/N as they perched on the armrest, mumbling a small ‘hi!’ to Technoblade.

Niki returned with two drinks in hand and shared a knowing glance with Y/N, as well as a miniscule smile, before handing them their drink and taking a seat on a cushion next to Jack and Minx.

“Okay okay, In honor of our new guests arriving, Y/N, truth or dare?” 

Y/N knew by the looks everyone was giving them that choosing truth would not be the best option.

“Dare.”

A small sigh of disappointment left Karls lips before a mischievous light came into his eyes and he perked up again. “I dare you to sit in Technoblade’s lap”

Snickers echoed across the group as Technoblade looked up at the sound of his name. He looked up to where Y/N was balancing themself on the edge of the couch, and with some burst of courage, that was probably induced by the alcohol, he wrapped his arm around their waist to tug them into his lap with a squeak of surprise.

After recovering from their initial embarrassment, Y/N turned to the man whose lap they were in. “Techno, truth or dare?”

He huffed but quietly breathed out “Truth”, suddenly very aware of how close their face was to his. After a few brief seconds of eye contact which seemed to last an eternity, they stuttered out

“Umm, do you,- actually, how did, how did they get you to play? This game... I mean?”

“BOO! WHAT A BORING FOOKIN QUESTION!” called Minx from the cushion she was on.

His response of how he didn’t mean to get dragged in to this “stupid middle schoolers game” was slightly slurred as he took a big chug of whatever liquid was floating around his red solo cup.

This worried Y/N. They never saw Technoblade drink more than enough to get him slightly tipsy, but they brushed it off on end-of-the-semester excitement. In any case, they would confront him when they got the opportunity to talk to him alone.

---

Said opportunity arose after the Pizza arrived, and most people began to file into Karls movie room to watch whatever garbage show he decided on running. Y/N stayed back, intending to have full access to the pizza and Technoblade, noticing this, stayed with them. Y/N hopped up onto a counter and pulled the pizza boxes to them.

“Hey Tech?”

“Heh?”

“Are you okay? I haven't seen you drink this much before?” they asked, running a concerned hand through his hair before pressing it to his forehead to check how hot he was.

His eyes closed and he nuzzled into their touch.

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? It’s winter break” they answered, a small smile on their beautiful face.

This was his chance.

“I have to start applying for colleges.”

Fuck, he missed it.

-----

The food brought a new bought of energy to everyone at the party, and by 3 in the morning, the celebration was still heavy in the air. Everyone thanked whatever brought Karl’s parents to buy a house far removed from any close neighborhoods, so the noise wouldn’t earn them a police visit.

Loud music blared from the speakers in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture to make space for the energetic teenagers.

Y/N took turns dancing with Niki, Minx, and Jack before being stolen away by Sapnap who spun them around until they almost threw up. Eventually, Y/N ended up on the outskirts of the dancefloor, where they saw their favorite apathetic pig-boy leaning against a corner, snickering at everyone who was embarrassing themselves in their drunken haze. 

“WANNA DANCE?” asked Y/N leaning towards him to enunciate over the music.

How could he say no? When they were looking up at him with those big, bright eyes and a slight sheen of sweat over their face.

-----

The party began to dissipate nearing the hours of dawn. Around 5, people began trickling out. Except for the select few who had decided to just crash with Karl.

Technoblade and Wilbur parked a little ways away from their house, walking the rest of the way and ushering each other up the tree by Wilburs bedroom to sneak back in. 

It was locked.

“You dimwit, didn’t you unlock the window?”

“Of course I did you arse, where do you think I snuck out from?”

Their bickering was interrupted by a small tap on the glass by none other than a smirking Tommy. 

“Leave it to him to only wake up when he wants to annoy us”

“Tommy, let us in.”

Tommy made a rubbing motion with his index finger and thumb. Looking at Wilbur and sighing, Technoblade pulled his wallet out and held up a 10. 

Tommy made a ‘more’ motion

20. Then 40. Then 50.

“So generous of you lads, come on in!” he giggled, snatching the money from his brother and leaving the window open for the two to clamber in awkwardly.

Technoblade snuck back into his room, stripping off his sweaty clothes and falling onto the mattress. Before he blacked out, he saw two notifications come in.

BitchBur: I took these pictures tn, thought u might want them ;) (8 images attached)

And

Y/N <3: I hope you figure out the college situation! <3 let me know if you can hang out sometime :D

He opened Wilburs text to find a collection of candid pictures Wilbur had snapped over the course of the night. One of Y/N in his lap, a few of them laughing together over pizza, a few of them on the dance floor, and what had to be his favorite: a picture of them kissing his cheek as a ‘good luck’ for his arm wrestle with Dream.

A smile creeped onto his face and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He set the last picture as his wallpaper before turning off his phone and falling into a realm of blackness.

SPRING------------------

“That was my very last AP Exam!” exclaimed Y/N, walking through the door of the coffee house where all their friends were lounging. 

The small shop erupted with cheers as they celebrated everyone finishing their school year. The cheers eventually died out, though, as the realization sunk in. Tomorrow was graduation.

The seniors in the group, Wilbur, Technoblade, Minx and Fundy were all going off to college. 

Wilbur to England, Fundy to the Netherlands, and Minx to Ireland. The one person who hadn’t decided on a college yet was Technoblade.

“Why do you all have to leave the country?” whined Y/N.

A chorus of similar sentiments left the other juniors who were scattered around a few tables that had been pushed together. 

As the conversation descended into dorms and expenses, Y/N received a text from Technoblade. The shock of the ‘ding’ made the pen that had been balancing between their lips clatter onto the floor.

Apathetic pig-boy: come outside

Y/N looked around, not having noticed that Technoblade had disappeared from the table. Taking advantage of the conversation everyone else was immersed in, they quietly snuck out, but not without avoiding Wilburs keen eyes, which narrowed upon realizing his brother was not at the table.

They wandered outside, finding Technoblade sitting at one of the outdoor tables covered by the awning. 

“My Yale email came in.” he said as soon as he saw them walk outside.

They jumped with barely contained joy. “What did it say?”

“I wanted you to be here when I opened it.”

Everyone knew that Technoblades dream college was Yale. He had talked about it ever since he was a little kid, screaming about Greek mythology on the school playground. Y/N knew that it was Technoblades biggest ambition to study literature at one of the most renowned colleges in the world, but they still felt a twinge of sadness. On top of losing half their friends, they couldn’t lose the one person that meant the most to them too.

“Open it!”

Y/N leaned against the back of Technoblades chair, almost falling over his shoulder as they watched the loading icon on the college’s website.

Technoblade clicked on the notification and they both read it together

Congratulations! We are glad to inform you…

“THAT YALE UNIVERSITY HAS DECIDED TO ACCEPT YOUR APPLICATION! TECH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Screamed Y/N, wrapping their arms around his shocked figure. They placed a million kisses all over his face, gushing about how proud they were of him, ignoring the gut wrenching feeling inside of them.  

“What’s the screaming about? Did you two finally get together?” Asked Wilbur as the group flooded out of the coffee shop to see what the commotion was about. 

“Yale accepted me.” mumbled Technoblade, just loud enough for them to hear.

The cheers that followed his announcement almost made their small hometown collapse. Congratulations were exchanged and backs were pat, and in the mess, Y/N managed to sneak off to the side. The only person who noticed was Niki, who followed them to the corner of the parking lot where they were kicking at the asphalt with their converse. She sat down, and the two rested in silence, the April wind blowing their hair all over the place.

“He’s leaving.” He’s leaving me. They wanted to say, but they didn't.

Niki gave her friend a small side hug, somehow interpreting the sentence accurately. “He’s pursuing his dreams Y/N, you know he doesn’t want to leave you.”

“How do I make him stay? It’s selfish and I’d feel like a bitch but Niki I don’t think I can live without him.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

----

The next day brought sunny skies and the enthusiastic atmosphere of graduation. They had all managed to snag themselves some graduation tickets to see their friends finish high school.

Jack, Niki, and Y/N were sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot, waiting for the clock to hit 11:45 so they could start making their way to school. It seemed empty without the Seniors of the group, as they were all at school getting ready for the ceremony. Y/N voiced this concern aloud, to which Jack responded, “We’ll have to get used to it. This is how it’s going to be next year.”

And the three fell into silence, sullenly dipping their fries into their frostys.

----

Jack, Niki, and Y/N let themselves be jostled into school with the crowds of emotional parents and kids who were already bored of the event. They found decent seats, near the front aisle and set their belongings down. 

Not a moment later, they were greeted by Philza, who filed in with the rest of the boys extended family to sit beside them. 

The dimming of the lights led to hushed whispers erupting from the previously rowdy crowd. 

Procedure came and went, the salutatorian and valedictorian giving their respective addresses to the crowd, the speech of the somewhat bored principal, and finally, 

“Without further ado, presenting the Graduating Class of 2021!” 

Cheers erupted from the crowd as names began to be called. 

Within the first five minutes, the boredom began to set in and Jack began a game pigeon game, which Phil demanded to be added to. The four played the digital card game until they were pulled out of their concentration by a familiar name being called. They erupted into cheers as Fundy walked across the stage to pick up his diploma and shake the Principal’s hand. The process was repeated until Minx, her eyes shining as she shook the principal's hand earnestly, then flipped him off quickly behind his back, which sent the auditorium into a fit of laughter.

Person after person was called up, until...

“Technoblade Minecraft”

Philza almost cried. He stood on his chair, screaming in excitement for his son which made the boy in question flush as he collected his diploma and took a rather rushed leave off the stage, but not before seeing the heart that Y/N made with their fingers in his direction.

The same general act happened  during Wilburs announcement, except that he laughed and gave his dad a cheering motion with his hands.

---

The group spilled out onto the lawn of the school, congratulating people they knew when they saw them. Technoblade and Wilbur joined their family, receiving hugs from a very emotional Tommy. Y/N, Niki, and Jack waited behind for their friends to finish up with their families before tackling them in hugs. Screams and whoops came from the puddle of people on the floor, everyone yelling things to each other. The atmosphere was charged with happiness, and relief, and one couldn’t help but feel elation despite the bittersweet nature of graduation.

“Alright mates, party at my house!” boomed Philza over the noise.

The infamous graduation party. They had planned the two-part party in middle school, when they had had their first sleepover at the group's “hub”, aka Philza’s house. Since then, the party had become a reality and the first part would be executed tonight. The next being, of course, when the remaining half of the group graduated.

A marquis was set up in Phil’s garden, now uncluttered and full of spring blossoms. It was such a different atmosphere than it had been last summer, when their bonfires would stretch out into the early hours of the morning.

Food laden tables were scattered around the marquis, and to everyone's delight, a chocolate fountain rested on one of them.

After collecting food and gifts from various guests, the group found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree with a rickety old treehouse balancing on it, which Tommy and Tubbo were attempting to devise a plan to get into with the help of their friend Ranboo, who didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the idea as the others.

“My flight leaves next week.” sighed Minx, leaning against Niki’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out of here by July the latest” 

“Phil’s taking us to London next week and I’ll just be staying”

Everyone turned to Technoblade to reveal when he would be leaving for college. 

“I’m going to Connecticut a week before the beginning of the term”

“So how long will you be home this summer?” Y/N asked, setting down their cookie.

“Between travelling and dorm set-up, I’ll probably only be here for about two weeks total.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as they pushed their head into Technoblades chest. 

“I just-” sniffle “I just can’t believe you’re all leaving!” they cried, muffled by Technoblades button down.

This sent everyone into a fit of tears as they all began hugging each other for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The moment was interrupted by Phil, who came out of the house with a camera and various props. Encouraging everyone to gather around and take pictures. Everyone scuffled around to fix their disheveled appearances and began making their way to Phils makeshift photo booth.

“Tech- wait!” called Y/N, pulling him back by the forearm. “Your hair”

They put pressure on his shoulders to get him to lean down so that they could fix his stray hairs. 

Right then, looking at the way Y/N’s shoes sank into the ground and feeling their light touch in his hair, he decided. I have to tell them. This is my last chance.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” deep breaths, “I need you to-”

“Come on, lovebirds get in the picture!” called Phil, walking over to drag them to where everyone else was. 

Y/N gave him an apologetic look, woven with the silent promise of later.

Damnit Dad.

----

The pictures had lasted what felt like eons, but between the corny props and the harsh afternoon sunlight, they held valuable memories.

But Technoblade had no interest in them at the moment, as he dragged Y/N behind the trunk of the tree they had sat at before.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Y/N’s face all that much more beautiful, and Technoblade struggled to tear his attention away to focus on telling them. He gathered up his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

But the only thing that came out was “OW!”

As a pinecone bonked off his head and rolled away on the ground, leaving chips of it in his hair. 

“Look out below!” Called Tubbo from somewhere above them. So they managed to get in. Damnit.

Y/N took his hand and led him to the other side of the tree, away from the boys’ field of destruction. They sat down gently, pulling Technoblade down with them to pluck the pieces of pinecone out of his hair.

“Here. Distraction free! Now tell me what you’ve been trying to say because there’s something I need to tell you too.”

That gave Technoblade the perfect opportunity to gather his nerves. “You go first”

“No, it’s fine you!”

“No you go!”

It seemed as if the stars had collided and sent out particles so many eons ago with the knowledge that everything would lead up to these two kids coming to the same conclusion at the same time. 

“I love you”

“I love you”

Their eyes met as they stared, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed at each other. Overcoming the initial shock, they began to ramble.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way because you always got quiet around me and then you woul-”

“Can I kiss you?” Technoblade interrupted them, not really hearing their rambling through the buzz going through his brain.

They nodded shyly in response as he wrapped his hand around the back of their neck to pull them dizzyingly, tauntingly closer. He looked into their eyes one more time to make sure they were serious, but Y/N was already closing the gap between their lips. They hoisted themselves into his lap and gripped his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

But alas, in this group of people, nothing goes unnoticed or undisturbed.

“EW! TECHNO’S KISSING Y/N!” screamed Tommy from the balcony of the treehouse which resulted in whoops and cheers from everyone at the party.

“FINALLY!” yelled someone amongst the crowd. 

Y/N felt their ears burn a bright red as they buried their face into Techno’s neck.

“Yeah Y/N! Get some!”

“Oh fuck off!”

A/N: i hope u guys liked it :D, also this is my first time writing with they/them pronouns so if i made a mistake pls don’t hesitate to correct me!

[sushiwriterhere]

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

literally me rn.jpg

“This can’t be real,” he groans in disbelief, dragging a hand down his face, his heavy head dropping forward with it. DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT!~!!!!!

Simply because he just wanted to. And if he was being honest with himself, this hadn’t exactly been the first time he’s wanted to either. when i tell you i .... friends to lovers me when this is so.. everything i need im blushing kicking my feet giggling

Whether it was pinching the back of your sweater when the elevator rattled, holding onto some part of you to make sure you didn’t linger far, or coaxing you to sleep by gliding a hand along your spine. jake's love language is physical touch yup yup yup yup

All thanks to a girl in a skirt so short it could pass as a belt—and Jake pitifully notched onto that tiny belt of hers. okay me feeling insane aside this is actually really skillful writing tilly you're outdoing yourself this is written so....!!!!

For research purposes, obviously. no bc the way the girls and gays are terrifying with their social media skills its incredible this is such a cute lil realistic touch

The ends of his hoodie drawstrings start to dangle over the top of your head when you unconsciously lean back into him. Jake hums contently, steadying his feet so you could comfortably lay your weight onto his chest. The disappointment from before lifts, slightly. rocking back and forth screaming and crying throwing up kicking my feet im unwell tilly this is everything i need and want youre so... i love this

“You left some of your lipgloss on here,” he lamely shares, while eating off the sticky residue. It should gross him out, but it’s just you, so really, he couldn’t care less...Jake hands end up on the front of your pants, again—for probably the third time this week. tilly im unwell.

Why the fuck does she need me to pick out a nail color every two weeks? And get mad at me when I say blue? this made me laugh sm because blue is a bad answer and my explanation for why is so annoying

“You don’t eat too much. Don’t even try that with me,” he sternly cements, disapproving of your excuse. “This shit is just—not your size.” 

“Okay? The hell you want me to say to that.” Bradley grumbles, eyes still trained on his monitor....If he had to cuddle with Jake in his sleep to get a ticket out of this, then so be it. Bradley gets it he rly gets it

Maybe if he aimed it correctly, he could chuck his wireless mouse at Jake’s thick forehead without it landing on you. no bc what it is about poor Bradley always watching jake be thick-headed from the sidelines just let my mans play fortnite

“She made me feel good. I don’t fucking know dude. I just liked her more than I liked anyone else.” BOOOOOOOO👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽

Redirecting his attention to the top of your head, he hugs you back with one arm. “C’mon sick puppy, take a look.” okay i'll admit i literally laughed aloud at reader throwing up from the gummies + a lot tolerance bc real but this is very sweet

A shiver runs down his spine when he comes to notice how you fit in his hands—but he pushes the new sensation aside. this is so evil but so good.

You’re not sure when it had even started, but for as long as you could remember, whenever either of you voiced something worthy of importance your counterpart naturally echoed it back. I was a dick. You were a dick. Jake, not right now. Okay, not right now. You never needed that. I never needed it. It was something your friendship naturally adopted. i'm so. what a detail that rly brings to life the characters in such a sweet and heartfelt way? im so sad i love this so much :(

tilly. tilly my love this is so so so fucking good. you're such a talented writer and i love this so entirely and wholly you truly are a gem. i cant wait for the next part MUAHHHH

Fake it

Chapter Four: Waste My Time

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of drugs, talks of binge eating, one instance of masturbation, mentions of vomit, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+.

word count: 7.7k

college au, fake dating trope, roomate trope

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If Jake had known prior to his shower—where he planned to attend to his morning problem—that his best friend would be on the forefront of his mind, he would've truly chopped his dick off with the kitchen knife you stowed in the bathroom cabinet. 

You had been convinced it would come in handy, in case an intruder conveniently found either of you mid-shower. And maybe it was a good idea to leave it there after all, because he might actually make use of it. 

Raking a hand through his wet hair, Jake tosses his head back, allowing the cold water to run down his face. But it doesn’t do much to get his mind off the issue at hand. There is no way he’s about to rub one out—not when your face is currently being screened behind his closed lids. 

“This can’t be real,” he groans in disbelief, dragging a hand down his face, his heavy head dropping forward with it. 

Warily, Jake opens his eyes to the water running down his toned stomach, practically guiding him to look at the veins lining his thighs, and the untimely hard on he’s sporting between them. And though, he's staring straight down at a very clear problem, he feels the weight of his other predicament wash down on him instead.

His ex-girlfriend was far gone by the time he reached you last night—yet Jake still went ahead and kissed you, for longer than he anticipated too. Simply because he just wanted to. And if he was being honest with himself, this hadn’t exactly been the first time he’s wanted to either.

But in his defense, it had been years since he sensed that bleary feeling in his chest, the one that gave him the uncontrollable urge to just lean in and kiss you—and who would’ve known it would spawn again?

Actually, Jake should’ve known. 

Like clockwork, that urge flares up when his mind is mostly cluttered—when every part of him is riddled by heartbreak. And Jake knew you’d always be there whenever he was on the chopping block, and it’d be wrong if he went looking for affection from you everytime he was. Because that's weird. You were his best friend—not some fling he could swap spit with each time got out of a failed relationship. 

So instead, he learned to wean himself off the compulsion by simply touching you.

Whether it was pinching the back of your sweater when the elevator rattled, holding onto some part of you to make sure you didn’t linger far, or coaxing you to sleep by gliding a hand along your spine. 

Jake just needed to feel you. 

Strangely, it was enough to tame that bizarre feeling that struck him once in a while. But despite his best efforts, he didn’t stick to his usual methods last night. Kendall's disparaging remarks must’ve really got to him. And there you were when it finally spilled over, standing there like your sixteen year old self did once before, waiting for him. 

Making the choice to just let it go, Jake assures himself that he was just confused, again. All thanks to a girl in a skirt so short it could pass as a belt—and Jake pitifully notched onto that tiny belt of hers. 

With that matter put to rest, he swallows thickly—returning back to his original point of concern. His frustration seems to have gone straight to his dick today. By no means, was waking up hard, unusual for him, but it’s particularly more difficult to ignore this morning. 

Now, he’s left staring down at his, not exactly little, problem. But the longer Jake stares—the more the self-restraining thoughts trickle out his ears, joining the stream of water running down his body, and mazing through the patterns of the rubber bath mat underneath him. 

“Fuck it,” he whispers to himself, roughly spitting into his palm. 

This is so wrong—but this is so—the only time he’s doing this. The blond had only joked about wringing one out while you were still home, but now he’s seriously following through. 

“Ah shit,” he hisses, rubbing the wad of saliva over his tip, brows pinched in concentration. 

Bringing a rough palm down his aching length, Jake’s breathing labors as he starts to work himself in already desperate strokes. Maybe it’s because your strawberry body wash is sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The muscles rippled on his wet back contract from the movement. Maybe it’s because your pink toothbrush is sitting next to his by the sink. 

Gritting his teeth, Jake puts more focus on getting this over with, coiling his calloused hand even tighter around himself. Maybe it’s because his ex is making it hard for him to understand anything. 

With the repetitive graze over a sensitive vein, Jake’s eyes snap shut, breath hitching in his throat—concentrating on that sensation. Maybe Jake likes kissing you more than he thought he would. 

The sound of low grunts and heavy panting permeates the bathroom, overpowering the echoing of water droplets panging against the shower floor and trickling down the drain. And just as he’s nearing his edge, overworking his forearm in quick motions—there’s an urgent knock at the door, followed by your muffled voice. “Jake? I really need to pee. I can’t hold it in…And you’ve been there for so long.” 

The end of your plea comes off as a whine, forcing him to immediately rip his hand off. 

Jake’s eyes flutter open to blink hastily, lungs burning as they expand, forcing himself to overcome his haze as quickly as possible. God, he hopes you didn't hear a single second of that. 

“Shit, um. Sorry, Princess,” he rasps, clearing his throat immediately after.

“Doors unlocked, you can come in,” he establishes, hitting his flushed chest with a fisted hand to clear his throat again. It takes him a second, but he finally pulls himself together. 

With a soft click of the doorknob, Jake assumes you’ve scuffled inside. A faint clattering by the toilet can be heard before you desperately yell out, “Cover your ears!”

“...Hurry! I’m—I might piss on myself,” you squeak, curling your toes against the tiles.

The warning directed towards the shower curtain is useless, because Jake's already cupping both hands over his burning ears. “They’re covered,” He spurts out a short laugh, turning his head, shouting the confirmation back at you. 

The automatic response had been programmed into him from the countless times your bladder coincided with his showers—mostly during the trips your families took together.

Maintaining the nostalgic positioning of his hands, Jake recalls the one time you slipped off the porcelain toilet at his beach house and refused to let him jump out the shower to check on you. At one point during that incident, you had thrown a roll of toilet paper at his pruney fingers when you spotted them curling around the shower screen to pull it back. 

Jake’s ear nearly fell off at the reprimanding he received from his mother, following that—when he decided to joke about massaging your sore butt during dinner.

With uncanny timing, Jake’s hands fall from the side of his head as your bold thumbs-up breaches past the shower curtain, coming into view in front of him, signaling that you’re done. 

He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, staring at your tiny hand that’s lined directly in front of his lower region. 

“Hey now. You sure you wanna be stickin’ a hand in here baby?” He taunts, with a teasing head tilt—even when you’re unable to see him. 

Baby. Your hand. In the shower. Where he’s naked. 

At that, you immediately withdraw the arm you stuck in there. Then, your small voice bleeds past the small crack of the curtain. “..I don’t want to know what you meant by that.” 

“Step inside if you do, though,” he shamelessly offers, stretching his jaw to control his amusement, but the playful lilt in his voice gives it away.

“I..I am not doing that!” 

Before Jake can add on to your fluster, you’re trotting off.

With your faded footsteps nearing the door, you make your exit back to your bedroom with a huff and a whispered complaint under your breath. Jake laughs at that, tipping his head back into the water as more memories come flooding in. 

You really haven’t changed from the time you clumsily tumbled off the rim of his toilet seat.

Considering the fact that the only people you ever spoke to on campus were either frat affiliates, or freshmen who occasionally needed directions—you never really caught the chance to make friends with other girls at school. It wasn’t intentional, of course. You had just grown so attached to Jake, that you found it difficult to harbor that kind of friendship with anyone else. 

However, that disconnect from girls your age didn’t mean you were that different from them. You had an idea of what any other girl would do if they were in your situation. It would only make sense that they’d do a healthy amount of snooping on Kendall’s social media—and all her friends’—and perhaps her parents’ too. For research purposes, obviously. 

But, maybe that was not the best way to start off your day.

After an alarming amount of online stalking, you’re quickly swept up by a sudden frenzy. Because how was it physically possible for someone to shine through their pictures? She quite literally radiated in every single post you zoomed in and out of. And the flood of comments you scrolled through made sure to remind her too. 

There was no point in denying that she won the genetic lottery either. And apparently you weren’t one of the lucky winners. Because, if you were, then maybe clothes wouldn’t sit on you like it was your enemy—either strangling or suffocating you. There was sadly no inbetween, really. But, it looked like she got along swimmingly with her clothes.

Was building an alliance with your own outfits, something you had to work on now?

At that revelation, you clumsily dart towards your closet, nearly tripping over the blanket still clung to your legs. And it must’ve taken a whole twenty minutes of you combing through overworn shorts and a thick stack of failed crochet hats, to successfully track down an old denim skirt you bought over a year ago. 

Batting off unvoiced doubts, you squeeze your legs into the stiff material and hastily throw on the oversized sweater Jake bought you—praying it would hide the fact that the skirt was two sizes too small. The light layer of makeup you quickly apply next isn’t your best attempt, but it’s enough to make you look alive. 

You realize that it seemed a touch ridiculous to be suddenly concerned about how you looked, but given that you were playing as Jake’s new girlfriend—the stress was very much warranted. His ex’s instagram was a testament that if she were to sport a potato sack, she’d still outshine you by miles—many miles actually, probably enough miles to wrap around the entire earth twice. It’s only natural that you would make an effort to appear somewhat decent in comparison. 

Mentally running through your plans for today, you unintentionally wander into the kitchen and start an attack on a tub of icecream—without even realizing it. It’s only when you’re half way through the container—that Jake finally steps into the kitchen, hair slightly damp from his lack of towel drying, a pair of gray sweats sitting loose around his waist, and another variant of his black hoodies clung on his upper half. 

“Oh, there you are.” He cranes his neck to see what you’re so focused on.

Jake feels a slight sense of disappointment creep in when you don’t give him a single sign of acknowledgment. Even with the lame attempt to louden his footsteps, you’re still quietly standing by the counter, back turned to him. 

Coming to a halt behind you, he briefly gives the back of your head an unimpressed look, before casually resting a palm onto the table top in front of you. 

The ends of his hoodie drawstrings start to dangle over the top of your head when you unconsciously lean back into him. Jake hums contently, steadying his feet so you could comfortably lay your weight onto his chest. The disappointment from before lifts, slightly.

“Thought you were gonna join me in there. You coulda’ scrubbed my back or something,” he playfully laments. All you do is wriggle against him, silently making yourself comfortable. 

Out of nowhere, Jake feels the steady pace of his heartbeat begin to pick up, though, he’s not sure if it’s from the horrifying remembrance of being interrupted a little bit ago, or because it feels kind of nice to have you on him like this.

Again, with no answer from you, he looks down past his nose, eyes landing directly onto the silver spoon that’s sticking out your mouth. Jake only squints when he’s met with his own wacky reflection at the end of the utensil. 

“Okay then,” he says to himself, tracing his gaze down the shiny metal. Reaching the end of the spoon, he catches the blank stare you’re giving that tub of ice cream under those curled lashes of yours. Jake bites the inside of his cheek at the observation. 

He’s not even sure what to make of your sudden change in behavior. Not long ago, you were cutely pawing at the bathroom door, and now you’re all dolled up underneath him, raw dogging a container of ice cream. 

Gently, he pinches the end of the cold handle between two fingers, slowly pulling it from your lips. All you can do is blink dumbly at the large hand that breaks your vision, letting him take it from you. Your eyes scrunch when the sunlight trickling through the kitchen bounces off the bowl of the spoon, momentarily blinding you. 

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He genuinely asks, dipping his head down to whisper the question in your ear. He does it softly enough so it doesn’t startle you. 

You blink a few more times before rushing to nod your head. 

Permission granted, Jake dunks it back into the tub to get himself a generous scoop, pressing the spoonful of vanilla flat against his tongue, licking it clean above you. “You left some of your lipgloss on here,” he lamely shares, while eating off the sticky residue. It should gross him out, but it’s just you, so really, he couldn’t care less.

Setting the empty spoon down against the counter with a soft clatter, Jake hands end up on the front of your pants, again—for probably the third time this week. The soothing action is happening more frequently than it ever should, but you haven’t chewed him out on it—yet. And it’s not his fault he needs to wean himself off. 

“What’s with the makeup? Thought you were just hittin’ up the grocery store today.”

All you do is give him a small shrug, he takes it as an answer for now. 

There were times when Jake stumbled on his older sisters prancing around the house at random hours of the night, faces full of makeup. Out of curiosity, he’d asked them why they decided to start their enrollment in clown school—and he’d get the same response—an eye roll and annoyed exclamation of Girls just like doing their makeup randomly Jacob! You don’t get it! 

For someone who was considered ‘a green flag’ on paper for having two sisters, Jake didn’t reap the benefits at all. Unfortunately, he was largely unaware of the things a guy should know if he grew up around girls. 

Discreetly pulling you in closer, he inhales through his nose. The taut muscles on his back relax once the scent of your strawberry body wash reaches him. “Why do you randomly do your makeup?”  

You stare at the shine of the melting desert in front of you, mildly confused by his abrupt question. 

Sure, Jake had pestered you with random questions about girls, given that you were one. But they always followed the lines of—Does this text mean she’s mad at me? or Why the fuck does she need me to pick out a nail color every two weeks? And get mad at me when I say blue? Never has he asked dumb questions in regards to you—but it’s not like he needed to anyway.

“Oh, um. I don’t know,” you bite your glossy lip, contemplatively. It takes you several seconds to come up with a better explanation than Oh, um. I don't know. Because that’s stupid, you sound stupid. 

“It just…feels good to do it, like—a confidence booster of sorts,” you finally surmise, partially honest with him. 

“Feels good, huh.” Jake repeats, trailing off as he absently runs his thumb around the rim of your metal button. 

While you weren’t aware of his large hands flirting with the entryway of your skirt before, you’re pretty much noticing it now. 

No matter how much you try to downplay the habit, it undeniably made you slightly nervous—okay, it actually made you very nervous. Because what if he accidentally pulled down your zipper—or worse—what if he saw the stupid day of the week underwear that you still wear. 

You’re not sure if you could ever live that down if he does. 

“I–um. Yeah, feels good,” you incoherently mumble, hands pathetically slick in sweat at your sides. 

He hardly gets a chance to register the mental turmoil going on under him as his brows suddenly furrow. The subtle engravings on the button of your shorts feel different, unfamiliar even.

WIth that, he stills. And without so much of a warning, Jake drags one hand around to the small of your back, pressing his palm flat against the bunched up fabric of your sweater, dragging it upward to check what shorts you decided to wear. You stagger forward, forced to crash your sweaty hands down onto the counter as he pushes you off him. 

This whole time, you were wearing a skirt.

And it’s not like Jake Seresin was opposed to the idea of girls wearing something too tight for comfort, but the dark washed band is curling into your flesh. Jake was opposed to that.

You gulp, the skin of your cheeks growing hot. Jake practically has you bent over, butt pointing up into the air. Warily, you attempt to continue the conversation as if he wasn’t checking out your skirt, in the worst way possible. “You could’ve, um, I dunno, just asked me what I’m weari–”

“This shit is digging into you, Princess,” he cuts you off firmly, flipping you around with that hand. 

Jake silently watches you, waiting for an explanation once he has you facing him. It’s quiet as you dodge his eyes. Of course, he thinks it looks weird on you. 

Eventually, you choose to look down at his front hoodie pocket like a scolded child. “I just…had too much to eat. Dairy makes me bloated,” you meekly supply, worming your hands into the empty pouch. Nervously, you begin to pick at the tiny tufts of cotton glued to the inner lining of his pocket. 

Ignoring the new feeling stirring in his stomach, Jake intently dips his middle and pointer finger into the front of your skirt, trying to get an estimate on how tight it was. They’re already losing circulation between the pudge of your tummy and the band. 

“What?” Jake scoffs incredulously, eyes rolling up and down your figure.

“You don’t eat too much. Don’t even try that with me,” he sternly cements, disapproving of your excuse. “This shit is just—not your size.” 

Using the two fingers hooked into your skirt, he tugs you forward in demonstration, causing you to let out a startled yelp. Seeing how the movement easily sends you launching forward, Jake sighs and retracts that hand from your waistband, holding you still by the hip instead. 

Moving to grab your face with his other hand, he forces you to look up at him—and your stomach bubbles, maybe because of the ice-cream. 

“I’m not gonna tell you what and what not to wear outside, ’cause my mom would fucking kill me,” he clarifies. “But, really?” Jake’s voice drops to a softer tone, considering that you look somewhat embarrassed, and not in the way he liked. 

You nod once in his hand, “I like it,” you manage to argue, cheeks squished by his fingers. If you like it, Jake can’t seem to hate it. But what Jake hates—is that he knows you’re about to head out, by yourself. 

“Okay.” His eyes flick down to your new choice of apparel. “Let me come with you today, Fuck Bradley,” he proposes, dismissing his upcoming plans with the brunette this afternoon. 

If you wanted to play dress up around him, that’s fine, but if you were going to walk around the supermarket aisles, without him trailing behind you, looking like this? He would rather go through his frat hazing twice over just so he could tag along. Your parents would kill him if he didn’t make up some excuse to watch over you. 

Somewhat bothered by your bare thighs brushing against his knees, Jake drops both hands down to pull at the sides of your skirt, but the stubborn fabric doesn’t budge. Again, he yanks it to no avail. Jake blows air through his nose, because he just needs your upper thigh to be covered at least. That’s what your mom would want, for him to look after you and all. 

“Jake,” you warn, bringing his attention back to your face. “We never end up buying what we need ‘cause you play around too much,” you put forth, glaring at him.

Jake gives your skirt one final jerk before giving up, weaving his fingers into the belt loops instead. However, under the weight of his hands, the band glides from your waist down to your hips. It covers more of your legs now. 

“I’ll behave,” he confirms, looking down at you. The specks of seriousness in his eyes says he will. But his inability to leave you alone for more than five minutes says, he won’t. 

“You never behave,” you tiredly argue, cracking your knuckles in his front pocket, accidentally pulling him closer by doing so. 

Jake cocks his head. “So? That’s what makes us work. You do all the important crap,” he points out, forgoing his seriousness from a second ago. “While I keep things fun. Don’t start pretending you don’t like it.” 

You look off to the side with a sigh. 

“I actually don’t like it,” you start, matter of factly. “And you’re not coming,” you finally conclude, brushing off the sudden memory of him keeping things fun last night. 

Rationally, you should be relieved that he remembers kissing you, it was clear in the way he wouldn’t stop teasing you about it during the entirety of the walk home. But all it does is fill you with unease. 

“My girl’s playin’ hard to get. That’s fine, I can handle you,” he continues, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. Yeah, he’s definitely not getting the permission to accompany you if he’s being so coy, this early on in the day. 

Rolling your eyes, you pivot your head to look at him again, only to realize that it’s a mistake to do so. Because you instinctively cower—when was he standing this close to you? And when did he slip his fingers through your skirt’s belt loops?

Jake’s eyes dart across your features, taking in your nervous falter. “What? You like when I call you that?” His grin only stretches wider. 

You hate that you’re still not used to his new pet names.

“What? No—no, I don’t.” You hurriedly defend yourself. 

You also hate that you can’t handle talking about said pet names without sputtering like an idiot. 

The moment you fill your cheeks with air, Jake takes it as a sign to not test his luck with you. Keeping quiet, he intently watches you let out that breath while you start to digress.

“You can join me next time, ‘cause it’s rude if you cancel on Bradley, I’ll just…come over after I’m done.” Reminded that Bradley kind of smiled at you last night, you assume he wouldn’t mind if you invited yourself over. He’s oddly let you through the door before, anyway. 

As you finish speaking, you gently nudge at Jake using the hands you still have resting in his pocket. The thick fabric, combined with his body heat, has been keeping your fingers so warm—that you almost forget the way the cold tub of vanilla felt between your hands from before.

Weirdly, Jake doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, there’s something unfamiliar that flits in his eyes, the dumb grin he’s wearing quickly fades and all he does is stare at you, like he’s unsure about something. Jake Seresin, unsure of himself, in what world?

“Promise me you’ll actually be there. Need to hear you say it,” he gently demands—suddenly.

Jake trusts you to stick to your word, but there’s some part of him that needs to know that he’ll see you again during the day. And he wasn’t going to hang out in Bradley’s room all afternoon, and have it possibly stretch into the evening—if you’re not going to show up at some point. 

You pause, lips parted, searching for any signs of his impending teasing. Because where did that come from? The last time he was this deliberate in what he said, he had asked you to be his girlfriend. 

You wonder how your sixteen year old self would react—she’d probably put on some Coldplay song and grab a nearby pillow to cry into it, if she knew he didn’t mean it in the way you wanted him to. And for some reason, you feel a twinge of her hurt flicker through your chest, when you think about it.

Above you, Jake remains still, letting you curiously scan his face. A thick lump forms in your throat when you come to the realization that he’s being serious. 

You swallow, giving him all your sincerity. “I promise.”

That unfamiliar look flashes in his eyes again when you assure him, and you instantly look down once you notice it. “Now can you, just—let me leave. We have no milk left and you can’t have your cereal dry,” you fumble, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness. 

Jake clears his throat. “Okay, yeah. I can…do that,” he starts, slowly. 

Letting his concern for your outfit drop, Jake moves off you so you can go. The weird tension in the air wrapping around you two, simply dilutes with that. 

Jake feels more confused when he watches you fetch your keys. He’d only wanted confirmation that you were seeing him later, thinking it would calm his protectiveness over you. But, it didn’t do jack shit, really. You didn’t get dressed up for no reason, nor did you wear things like that when you did.

The realization that he should’ve tried to probe more, crosses his mind when he hears you go through the front door. In the midst of his silent brooding, Jake eventually decides not to fault himself for it—because when has he ever had to pry an explanation out of you? You always told him everything. 

But as he comes to that conclusion, Jake fails to notice what you quickly pop in your mouth when you scurry out. Maybe it was because you couldn’t stop thinking of your younger self—but you reached for that reflective baggie you stole from last night’s snack table. It should do the trick to soothe that growing ache in your chest. 

“Motherfuck–” Bradley bites his lip in focus, capping off his insult. “Takin’ off half my health. Get your ass back here,” he harshly narrates under his breath. Leaning closer to his computer screen, he expertly moves his fingers against the lit up keyboard in precision with his mouse. 

Jake came over a few hours ago, and what started as a conversation between two friends—turned into Jake leaning back against Bradley’s headboard while the brunette busied himself with rounds of Fortnite. 

“I’m telling you, she wore that shit on purpose.” Jake huffs, retelling his encounter with his ex. Truthfully, Bradley’s baffled that Jake was able to stretch out the topic for this long. 

Hour five into the rant, you had tiredly strolled in the room after being let in the house by Bob. There was hardly any greeting before you immediately dove for the mattress. In a matter of seconds, you were curled around Jake’s leg like it was some life line, left cheek squished against his thigh and an arm thrown across his knee. 

Neither of them said anything about your peculiar arrival, but it wasn’t like they caught the chance to, because you had already dozed off. 

“Okay? The hell you want me to say to that.” Bradley grumbles, eyes still trained on his monitor. For the first time in his life, Bradley finds himself jealous of you. If he had to cuddle with Jake in his sleep to get a ticket out of this, then so be it. 

Before Jake can say anything, Bradley is rapidly clicking his mouse and jerking it across his mouse pad in zig zags. “No, no. Fuck—Shit. Oh fuck you.”

The gruff shout at his computer causes you to stir a bit. 

“You died?” Jake stupidly asks, cupping a hand over your ear, muffling the noise. 

Slowly, Bradley swivels his chair to face him. “No. My character just got shot in the face.” 

“Right.” Jake doesn’t care. “Anyway, you should’ve seen the skirt she was wearing,” he pauses to re-evaluate his next words. “Actually, don’t even start to imagine it.” 

“Just know it was bad,” he says flatly, hoping Bradley gets the point. 

Entirely unimpressed by his friend’s idiocracy, Bradley’s eyes dart between the skirt you're wearing and the idiot playing with the shell of your ear. Maybe if he aimed it correctly, he could chuck his wireless mouse at Jake’s thick forehead without it landing on you.

“Same skirt that your little girlfriend has on right now?” Bradley presses, lazily raising an eyebrow. 

Jake’s eyes snaps to your outfit and he roughly grabs a blanket to cover you entirely. 

“What is she, Goldilocks? Passing out on someone’s bed after going out on her own. Should’ve gone with her, dumbass,” Bradley insults. 

Jake gives him an incredulous look. 

“Bro, I fucking tried but you know how girls are.” If anyone should understand, it’s Bradley—the guy who had a hoard of sisters himself. He of all people, should know that talking to girls was like trying to communicate with a mob that was already angry at you. You say one thing wrong, and you’re getting chased by pitchforks and torches. 

“Look at that. Another girlfriend who’s tryna’ escape you,” Bradley swipes a tongue over his growing smirk, amusing no one but himself. 

“I’m glad you’re finding this funny. ‘Cause I don’t.”

“Thanks.” Bradley says offhandedly, in his usual uninterested tone. 

“That wasn’t—okay,” Jake bites his tongue, not wanting to spark an argument that might wake you. 

“Why are you so hung up on this chick anyway? What do you even like about her?” Bradley suddenly presses, trying to gain knowledge on why his friend is so infatuated. 

In the years he’s known Jake, yeah, he’s been a serial dater, but he never went back to the same girl—over and over again. And he never employed you to help him do it either. Bradley never got the impression that Jake would do that in the first place.

“I like everything about her,” Jake finally punches in his answer, focusing on the way you’re clinging to his leg. 

It’s a simple question, one he should know how to answer. But his attention drops to you when he racks his brain for a valid reason—as if you were going to wake up and give him the response he was looking for.

“She made me feel good. I don’t fucking know dude. I just liked her more than I liked anyone else.”

Bradley inwardly winces at that.  

Jake slowly turns his head to his friend who’s leaning back into his chair, and dismissively shrugs. “Everyone said we were good together and I just thought so too.” 

Despite his attention to the conversation, Jake has a far off look in his eye—his brain is wandering off somewhere. 

Bradley shakes his head, in disagreement. Clearly, his strategy of getting Jake to catch you with someone else at the party failed, so maybe he has to switch gears. “Dude, just because some fucking randoms said so, doesn't mean—”

“...Gummybear.” 

Both of them put the conversation on pause, snapping their necks in your direction. Another minute of quiet passes until you mumble the phrase again, paired with a groan this time.

Jake shifts around, no longer slouching against the headboard. The duo watches closely when you sleepily untangle yourself from him and sit up for yourself.

Scrubbing your eyes, you distribute a guilty look between Bradley and Jake through blurry vision because you feel your mouth slowly being filled with the pre-vomit drool. 

You’re one second away from showing them both your lackluster breakfast and cannabis laced gummies you had the bright idea of eating.

Perhaps, it wasn’t the best course of action to have one—or two, but you thought they were supposed to make you feel calm—because isn’t that why people buy them? How were you supposed to know that having more than one would make you feel so sick?

“I don’t, um, feel too good.” Your throat bobs and you slap a hand over your mouth.

Jake lunges forward, shoving away the pillows blocking you from him. He visually pales when bend over against him, aggressively gagging into your palm, unable to swallow back the burning acid rising into your throat and spilling onto your tongue. 

With you on the brink of vomiting in his lap, Jake keeps his eyes on you as he hurries Bradley to find something for you to dump your guts into. 

“I said I can’t fucking find it!” Bradley’s already shot out his chair, rapidly throwing dirty laundry over his shoulder once he’s bent over in the spot where his trash bin should be.

From the way he launched himself out of his seat, the gaming chair is flung halfway across the room. And with the sound of your retching and Jake’s useless instructions, Bradley picks up the pace and hastily reaches into piles of junk in hopes that he’d unearth the tiny bucket.  

“Aim on the damn floor if I don’t find this thing,” he grits, sweating as he continues to dig through his pigsty.

And aim at his floor, you did. 

“I threw up all over his room.” You mumble into Jake’s hoodie, punishing yourself over the turn of events. 

Since bringing you home, Jake’s been actively trying to get your mind off what happened. But all you’ve done is guiltily fixate on the fact that you barfed like a sick puppy, leaving a plop of mush right onto a Victoria Secret bra sitting in Bradley’s room. 

What if the girl who owned it came looking for it—just to find a fat stain sunken into the cup? Bradley would probably have to tell her that his idiot friend hurled on it because she didn’t know her tolerance was incredulously low. And you’d probably won't stop thinking about it for the rest of your life.

“Who cares? You gave Bradshaw a reason to clean. Now turn around and tell me what you want,” Jake prompts you, looking ahead at the open snack pantry in front of him.

The high clearly kicked in while you were in the snack aisle, because why else would there be five party sized bags of chips staring back at him. 

Jake narrows his eyes, straining to make out the flavor you bought. The dim lighting makes it nearly impossible to read the big lettering written across the shiny plastic. But then again, he hadn’t bothered to turn on the main lights, choosing to depend on the trim of fairy lights lined throughout the apartment. It was safe to assume that you preferred those, so he stuck to that. 

Rather than complying, you wrap your arms tighter around Jake’s torso, shaking your head in refusal against his chest. “Don’t want anything.” 

Redirecting his attention to the top of your head, he hugs you back with one arm. “C’mon sick puppy, take a look.” 

The last time you writhed in guilt like this, you had swung Jake over the head with your neon pink hydro-flask at his beach house—when he was the one who purposely scared you. Though, he took it as a win, considering that you cradled his head all night, giving him an excuse to sleep in the same room as you. Back then, it came at a perfect time since his fling that summer recently ended in disaster. 

“I’ll just throw up again if I eat anything,” you quietly whine, replaying the defeated sigh Bradley heaved when he stared at the pathetic beige goo sinking into the lace of the bra. 

Using the arm he has around you, Jake gives you a squeeze. “No? Don’t even want some gummies?”

When he’s met with silence, Jake lowers his head to kiss the top of yours, but the gesture goes unnoticed by you. For a second, he thinks you managed to fall asleep standing up. “Done talkin’ to me Goldilocks?” 

Jake’s voice pulls you out of your deep analysis of the way Bradley sighed in disappointment. But, with the reminder that you had also shamelessly napped in his bed—brought on by your desperation to sleep off the high, you fist the back of Jake’s hoodie in both hands and bite down on your lip to hold back a screech of embarrassment.

“Won’t you look at that, the little lady didn’t like my joke,” he lightly teases, glad that your useless talent of falling asleep anywhere didn’t spur into action. 

Detecting the spike of heat from your flushed face against his stomach, Jake refrains from making any more jokes and lifts you slightly, positioning the bottom of your feet over the surface of his own.

Once he drops you to stand on his sock-clad feet, Jake begins to carefully advance into the bathroom, unbothered by the pressure of your heels on his toes as he walks. 

“If you want nothin’, we’re hanging out where we did this morning.”

In one swift movement, he both peels you off his front and moves you off his feet. Letting him guide you to sit at the edge of the tub, you attentively look on while he crouches in front of you, face perfectly leveled with yours—despite the raised height provided by the bathtub. Did he place you here because you fell off the toilet that one time? 

“Why did you randomly take those? Mickey puts a shit-load in there,” he questions, referring to the gummy bears that eventually led you into buying a life time supply of Jake’s favorite chips, Smoked Barbeque. 

If it wasn’t for the soft yellow string of lights you taped around the bathroom door frame, you would’ve missed the puzzled look he’s wearing. The light pinch of his brows and the concern tightening his jaw makes you feel guilty for the second time tonight. 

Instinctively, his hands reach towards your waist, thumbs coming close to meeting at the center as his palms settle on your sides. A shiver runs down his spine when he comes to notice how you fit in his hands—but he pushes the new sensation aside. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of random things today,” you broadcast, unsure of the rationale behind wearing makeup for a mundane outing—and unsure as to why you were compelled to level with a girl who could clearly look down at you from where she is. 

“Yeah, you have, haven’t you?” Jake says softly, watching your eyes flick down towards his hoodie. It’s an exact replica of the one keeping warm from the night before—and the same one he gave you for the sole purpose of announcing that you were his.

“Oh. I forgot to give your sweater back to you last night. I’ll wash it and—”

“Keep it, we didn’t break up yet,” he cuts you off, the unfamiliar look from this morning passing through his eyes, again.  

Oblivious to it, you simply nod at him, bringing your parted lips to a slow close.

Then, it goes quiet as you two take the time to recollect your thoughts.

After several minutes you both meet back in a silent agreement that you’re ready to continue the conversation. Jake nods his head at you, encouraging you to speak first. 

“I ate it because this didn’t feel good,” you suddenly confess, lips bunching to the side of your mouth. Knowing what you meant, his attention drops to that skirt he caught you in this morning. An unsettling feeling swirls in his stomach, it looks even tighter on you now.

Jake liked to think he knew how to read you.

Whenever his ears picked up on your nervous laugh, he knew to stalk over to see which one of his nosey aunts were pressing you about having a boyfriend. Whenever you nervously dug the toe of your sneakers into the floor, he knew to start comparing shoe sizes with you as a distraction. But when he finds you in something you don’t usually wear, Jake doesn’t know what to do. 

He wonders if you felt like you needed this stuff to feel pretty. And he also wonders why he’s so unaware of it until now, if you had. 

“Think I threw up because it’s so tight. Maybe Mickey’s gummies aren’t so bad,” you attempt to joke with a light laugh, wanting to ease the tension off his face. 

In front of you, Jake’s stare is still unwavering towards the engravings of that button. In a way, this is kind of disorienting for him, what you’re wearing is so familiar to him. Yet, seeing it on you is unfamiliar if anything. Because this isn’t you, it’s the girl he was just arguing with last night. 

The only reason he even started this whole thing with you, besides Kendall’s unexplainable jealousy towards your friendship, was because you were different to her in every way. So, if you were going to change that about yourself, Jake didn’t like it—because it was unfamiliar to him. For his whole life, he kept tabs on little things about you that no one else bothered to learn. So, he doesn’t like that he you’re keeping things from him now.

“I…don’t like this,” he delivers carefully, enunciating each word to you purposefully, leaving no doubt in your mind that he says it to be mean. And like always, what he really wants to say translates to you—I don’t like the way it makes you feel either. 

“...Can we take it off then?” you insert with the same careful delivery.

He draws in a deep breath, and you mimic the action unknowingly. 

Then, with a flick of his thumb, Jake unfastens the button of your skirt, dislodging it from the denim slit that kept it tightly wrapped around your waist. When you go to lift your butt, he pulls the tiny scrap of fabric down your legs. His eyes trail it, keeping his attention off your underwear. In his peripheral, he spots your half-full bottle of strawberry bottle wash. 

With you moving to sit back down on the cold ledge, he’s briefly greeted with a pink cursive lettering. Tuesday.

Surprisingly, it’s not awkward to be sitting in nothing but the poorly constructed sweater he said looked good on you and a pair of your day of the week underwear. Maybe you were being dramatic, thinking that you would die if he saw it. Because this isn’t so different from the days you spent walking around in your bathing suits, in the lifetime full of summers you spent together.

“You never needed that,” he shrugs, relief settling in his chest now that it’s off of you. 

“I never needed it,” you repeat back.

While your entire lives were filled with inside jokes and probably too much bickering—there were small lapses in time where that all drops. You’re not sure when it had even started, but for as long as you could remember, whenever either of you voiced something worthy of importance your counterpart naturally echoed it back. I was a dick. You were a dick. Jake, not right now. Okay, not right now. You never needed that. I never needed it. It was something your friendship naturally adopted. 

And like all other friendships, you two also knew how to shimmy your way out of a vulnerable moment like that, without making things weird. 

Jake leans into you a bit, suppressing a cheeky grin. “It says Tuesday, today is a Saturday,” he whispers.

Shoving him back with one hand, you break out into a smile. “You read my underwear!” 

“It read itself to me,” he finally grins, prompting you to smack your palm over his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” You chant between your laughter. “I’m never wearing these again.”

“No? Not even for me?” Jake starts to wrap his fingers around your wrist. It’s not too firm, but it’s enough to lower your hand from his eyes. Your laughter begins to die down at how gently he handles you. 

Another silence settles in the bathroom again when he leisurely traces a path from your wrist up to your palm, entwining his fingers through yours. Then, he drops your connected hands between the small gap between you two. 

But as quickly as he holds your hand, he lets go of it. And strangely, that tinge of your sixteen year old hurt sweeps through your heart when you lose that warmth against your palm.

Jake suddenly clears his throat. “I should uh, leave. You know, so you can shower.”

Pushing down the confusing swirl of emotion in your chest, you nod. 

This time, Jake’s the one to walk out of the bathroom, leaving you alone with your best friend at the forefront of your mind.

note: im so sorry for taking forever to update! so please enjoy this accidentally long chapter as an apology! as always, reblogs & thoughts are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading! & gently ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes for now

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[cdroloisms]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

[moxfirefly]

Oh... Bitch. #19 and I request Mikey. I wanna see your magic and well... His. 😏🧡

Oh yes, let’s get it!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Michelangelo was dumbfounded. Truly stumped at the sentence that rolled out of your mouth.

He must’ve misheard, it wouldn’t be the first time, his mind always running a hundred per hour but this wasn’t the case.

Michelangelo gripped your feet, massaging the soles as you spoke. The two of you sat on the couch in the truck. It had taken several weeks of begging but Mikey had managed to swear on a stack of Wu-Tang vinyls that if Donnie lended him the truck he would return it in its complete safe mint condition. The reason for this was he wanted to take his girl out for a drive, maybe park somewhere nice, watch the night life, the city lights.

It was gonna be a perfect date for sure.

After some driving around, totally showing off that he so was a responsible driver unlike what his brothers suspected, he had parked. The two of you moved to the back part and enjoyed every nifty little gadget for entertainment that Donnie had installed.

So now as the two of you settled and talked about everything, the topic had shifted to sex.

For Mikey, even if his actual reptile brain was vibrating at the possibility of sex, he knew some of these talks were a means for you to find your ground. The topic often came up, not to say things hadn’t gotten pretty heated between the two of you, but it never escalated above some heavy petting.

Tonight though, Mikey’s brow bones shot up over the reason why you were still apprehensive of taking that final step. The reason though, just left him feeling incredulous.

“What do you mean you’ve never cum from sex?!” Mikey sat up better, attention at high when you covered your face and laughed. “It happens, Mike. More often than one would like but the guys I’ve been with just...” You trailed off, the situation was embarrassing as if.

Mikey bounced the information in his brain, were you afraid he would be another on the list? Then again it could be understandable, this was his first serious relationship. You noticed his pensive gaze and scooted close. “Hey im not saying you aren’t gonna get the job done, but my experiences just haven’t been earth shattering” You grabbed his hand, thumbs pressing on his palms.

Mikey shrugged with a shy smile. “Well, I think I can change that string of bad luck” The confidence was there and you couldn’t deny it was something that often made you giddy on the inside. With no hesitation you pressed your smiling lips to his, you felt the tips of his fingers caress beneath your chin. If there was something the orange banded ninja felt confident about, it was his ability to kiss. Often a time had he seen that glazed, love drunk gaze on you after a particularly steamy makeout session. Wether a soft, ghosting of a teasing kiss to those more messier saliva exchanging kisses. Mikey simply just knew how to work his mouth.

And you would be a god damn liar if you hadn’t fantasized about said mouth doing other things.

There in the softly lit back of the truck, you let yourself fall into the familiar ache that his mouth caused you. A few weeks ago you had ridden his thigh to the point of your nethers throbbing with a terrible need. Mikey’s lips teasingly kissed towards your neck, carefully raking his teeth over the sensitive spots. His kissing alone was far superior than those of your ex lovers, Mikey’s attention to detail when it came to your sweet spots was critical for him. He knew your neck was free game, too easy but he’d learned about your shoulders, about squeezing your waist and pressing you against himself.

He was well aware of raining down some cocky comments against your mouth or ears would deliver fantastic results.

You pulled back just an inch, eyes scanning his. You caressed his face, thumbs running across his lips, shiny with the taste of yours.

“Okay, let’s try it out” You spoke softly, cheeks flushed but eyes so very certain. He felt his heart rattle inside of him, nervousness rose but he fought against it when your hands caressed him so lovingly. You could reassure him with a look often times but if you touched him, ran your hands over his cheeks or arms, whatever self doubt would melt away.

Everything melts with Mikey.

Just like now, somewhere along the various sounds inside of the truck and the soft music playing you got up and started to undress before him. Mikey’s frozen in place but not out of fear or embarrassment but more so because he doesn’t want to miss a second of what you are giving him. Intimate parts of you he’d only gotten his fingertips to brush or lips to kiss. He’s mesmerized, hypnotized truly. Watching jeans slide down your legs and a sweater fall somewhere near your shoes. He can’t take his eyes off of you, sweaty hands pushing down his own shorts as he kicks off his shoes, thankful for not being in his full usual gear.

Mikey swallows dryly when your knees hit the couch, straddling his lap and effectively trapping him in your scent. Lazily you feel his hands on your hips steadying you. The kissing picks up again and you’ve never felt more in tune with somebody.

Somewhere along the heat his fingers find the clasp of your bra, hand at the back of his head you give him that nudge to do what he’s so very much craved. Burying his face between the two fleshy mounds he inhaled and shuddered against softness. Biting your lip you try to grind down on him, lost in the content sigh that blows hot air against your sternum.

“Mikey...” It’s a whisper against his temple, felt so deeply within his soul that can’t help but tug you closer to him. “You’re like, beautiful” He’s punch drunk and you’re pretty sure he just said that to your breasts but it brings chuckling smile out of you. “You’re not so bad yourself either” You take your lustful moment to run your hands down his chest, enamored with the texture, aroused by the strength you feel beneath your fingertips. You take a daring second to lean down and lick a slow stripe up his neck. Mikey felt like he short circuited with just that, he wondered if the rest of you would cause more of those sensations.

So he can’t help but find out. He moves you to lay down on the cozy couch, settled between your legs he grinds against your clothed heat. You want him already, quiet little moans escape you and go straight to his hard on. His underwear is past his hips and yours is pushed to the side and that familiar burn knocks the wind out of you cause it’s never felt this strongly. The shape of him makes you lift your hips to seek him out further and Mikey moans something guttural against your chest when he bottoms out in you.

“Fu-uck, oh god” It’s so sincere and muffled against your left breast that you’re secretly proud you caused that in him. He’s wary of his weight, one arm above your head to grip the armrest the other dug beneath your low back. He keeps you just the way you want to and the rest is your legs tightly snug against his waist, the edges of his shell digging in. That first cautious thrust is accompanied by his lips around your nipple. You shudder against him, the overwhelming sensation catching you off guard. You watch the arm above you flex, muscle twitch with his next thrust. He’s hitting spots that no other lover had bothered to, tongue twirling around your nipple alternating between sucking and biting the flesh.

You cuss, feel yourself shudder and stick to him with desire. “Jesus just-god!” You’re a mess of words when he licks all the way to your earlobe and bites down. “Just what? Hmm, girly you’re so warm around my dick” You must be red, every inch of you must be crimson because hearing him talk like that shouldn’t affect you that much. Mikey’s clearly riding the high of it, noticing how you clench around him and pull him into wet warmth.

Soon enough he’s thrusting harder, quicker and the truck is filled with panting and praising. You run your hands up his plastron, enjoying how that makes him buck more. He finds you lips and kisses you with a need that can’t be measured, tongue entwining with yours. The hand that had been so viciously holding the armrest snakes down your side and in between both of yours moving bodies. You feel the pad of his rough thumb slowly circle your hardened clit and the feeling is enough to moan into his mouth. Mikey licks the roof of your mouth and recaptures your mouth and it’s dizzying. The soft but firm circles on your sensitive nub make you squirm and tremble. It’s too many feelings at once, his cock filling you up, lips on yours distracting and that’s treacherous little motion of his thumb.

Soon you start to feel it, a tightening, a tension that makes you seek his thrusts out more. You want to moan but his kiss muffles it, tongue so busy making you needier. Mikey rubbed faster this time, the salacious wet sounds mixed with the sounds of slapping. You’re teetering and it’s too much for you to be able to concentrate on the kiss. Your mouth opens and you gasp when that free fall feeling hits. Mikey rubs and pounds and you cum. Your eyes shut tight as you scream, gushing around his length and spasming. Your back arches, hands trying to grab or push at anything. Mikey jackhammers the last of what he can and cums hard only making you shiver and spasm more. He buries his face between your sweaty breast, harsh breaths hitting the skin.

You find feelings against in your legs and your heart allows you to relax in the post coital bliss. “Was...Was that good?” Mikey sounds dead but so deeply satisfied and you giggle, the movement making your chest vibrate and he happily nuzzles your chest. “More than good, I think I lost my vision for five seconds” He snorts and you smile as you affectionately caress the back of his head.

“...Wanna go again?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely” He grins against your skin.

[watchmegetobsessed]

With you - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

fanficmas week 2! i really hope you guys are enjoying the holiday content! updated the fanficmas post with the title of next week’s fic and im working hard on more content, hopefully i’ll have more time when i finish school next week. take care!

word count: ~2k

masterlist

Getting into a relationship so close to the holidays is a pain in the ass. There are just so much unexplored territory, it makes an already stressful time even harder. What do you buy them? Do you spend it together? Do you take them home to your family? Do they want you to meet their family? There really should be a manual to answer all these questions, because it really works up your anxiety.

When you made things official with Harry just a short month before Christmas, you didn’t think about all these things, but once you were able to see from the pink clouds around you, realization hit you hard. These were all crucial questions and you were afraid to ask them straight. What if you disagree on one? What if you want him to meet your family, but he feels rushed? The two of you only dated for a few weeks before he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. You could jump and scream from happiness, but then you realized what it means for the holidays and now you are stressing out.

Harry however knows you well enough to notice that something is off, so one evening, when you’re on the phone he softly asks.

“Love, everything alright?” you hear his soft murmur through the phone.

“Yeah, why are you asking?” you say, trying your best to sound convincing.

“Because the moment I brought Christmas up you started giving one word answers. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Your heart aches, he is such a sweetheart. You can’t just put it all aside hoping for the best, you need to be mature and just communicate your fears. Hopefully, he won’t think you’re crazy for stressing on such things.

“I’m just… a little anxious about the holidays.”

“Okay, talk to me. What’s gotten you feeling that way?”

“I’m just not sure what we should do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we haven’t talked about what happens on Christmas. Do you want me to meet your family? Do you want to meet mine? Do we celebrate together or meet after the holidays?”

You hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the call and you huff to yourself. Good to know, he finds it entertaining.

“Love, don’t stress about it, alright? We can talk about it now. But there’s no wrong answer, okay?”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do. I know it’s our first Christmas together, a kind of important step, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with whatever we come up with.”

“You are literally making it so hard for me to comprehend that you’re real when you are so caring and loving Harry,” you mumble in the phone, earning another chuckle from him. Moments like this, when he acts like a real prince charming just makes you unable to wrap your head around the fact that you are dating this man. He is your boyfriend and you are his girlfriend. Unbelievable!

The two of you talk it through and come up with a plan for the holidays. Dinner at your parents’ on the 25th, lunch with his family on the 26th and then ice-skating in the evening, just the two of you.

Now that you have cleared it all, you just worry about one thing: not to do anything during the holidays that would make him want to leave you right away.

Dinner at your parents’ goes by smoothly, it’s not a surprise Harry wraps both of them around his fingers, you were kind of expecting it beforehand. Besides, your mom was already so excited to meet your charming new boyfriend, he doesn’t even have to try that hard through the evening.

Now lunch with his family has been working up your anxiety, but when Anne greets you with a warm hug and some sweet words about how grateful she is to finally meet the girl her son has been gushing about, your nerves fade and you let yourself enjoy this time with them. They are all so welcoming and you really hit it off with Gemma, already making plans after the holidays, just the two of you.

“Already getting rid of me, babe?” Harry teases you softly and you just kiss him with an innocent look.

After family time at the Styles home, Harry drives you home to get changed and pick your skates up before dropping by his house to do the same. You arrive to the skating rink a little after five, the sun has already dipped down below the horizon, the Christmas lights all around the place are setting the mood for the evening.

“I’m warning you, I’m not that good of a skater,” you tell him with a nervous smile as you finish up with your skates.

“S’alright, I’ll look out for you,” he smirks, making your heart flutter in your chest. He holds out a hand for you and you gladly take it, balancing on the blades a little wobbly. It’s been quite a few years since the last time you skated and you surely became a little rusty. You can only hope you won’t embarrass yourself that badly, wouldn’t want such an awkward memory from your first Christmas spent together with Harry.

“Hold onto me all you want, Love,” he tells you when he is already on the ice, helping you step into the rink as well. Your ankles aren’t holding up too steadily, so you take up on his offer and cling onto him for dear life.

You manage to get on the ice without smashing your face against it, so you give yourself a point for that. Harry seems to be comfortable in his black skates, gliding on the ice easily, always looking out for you to help or catch you if you might fall.

It surely takes you time to get used to moving around on the ice, losing balance quite often, but Harry is always quick to catch you just in time, saving you from falling.

“You are getting better, babe,” he smiles at you proudly when you are only holding one of his hands, trying your best to move forward, people passing you in a faster pace, but you are just happy to take it in slower.

“Sorry to hold you back. You can go a few rounds without me if you want,” you tell him, knowing well he would easily be able to circle the rink smoothly like a pro.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry about me, Love,” he smiles at you and he sounds genuine. Returning the smile you try to inch closer to steal a quick kiss, holding onto his hand you manage to reach him, but right before your lips could meet his, a guy speeds past you so suddenly, he scares you, making you jump and easily fall out of your balance you worked so hard to keep all along. Harry’s arm immediately flies around you, trying to keep you steady, but it’s all dead business.

You launch forward, not able to hold yourself up, collapsing against Harry, who desperately tries to keep the both of you standing, but he doesn’t succeed. The two of you fall to the hard ice and though you mostly land on Harry, it’s still painful and you can only imagine what it feels like for him.

“Oh shit!” you gasp when you finally realize what just happened and that you’re lying flat on Harry who is grunting underneath you. “Harry, I’m so sorry!” you whimper, already feeling the embarrassment crawling up on your cheeks, heating them up. Of course you have to be so clumsy to pull Harry down with you when you fall.

Eyes falling to Harry’s face you see that his expression is quite pain twisted and looking down at him you try to find where he hurt himself.

“Wha-what hurts?” you frantically ask as he opens his eyes, staring up at the sky, seemingly holding his breath.

“Don’t panic, Love, but I think my wrist is broken,” he huffs out and you gasp at his words. You carefully get off of him and your gaze finds the hand that’s probably injured, but you can’t see much, his coat and sweater still covering it.

You manage to hold your tears back as you and Harry somehow push yourselves up from the ice and make your way off the rink. He is holding himself up like a soldier, not even whimpering at the pain he is surely feeling, but you can tell it’s painful as hell. You help him change into his boots, then change yourself as well, pack everything up as you head out to the car. This time you’re clearly driving and sitting in the dark car you need to bite into your lower lip to stop yourself from crying, but you are not even the one who is injured.

You just can’t believe he broke an arm because of you. How pathetic are you really? This evening will surely haunt you for years.

You feel Harry’s gaze on you while you drive, and you’re pretty sure he can tell how shaken up you are, but he chooses not to comment on it and you’re more thank thankful for that choice.

You park down at the hospital and walking in you are faced with the holiday chaos of the ER, that basically looks like hell. The place is packed, nurses and doctors are rushing from one point to the other, patients are waiting everywhere, children are crying and it’s a whole mess.

You check Harry in at the nurse station and the nice lady asks the two of you to wait until his name is called. Harry spots two empty chairs in the corner so you make yourselves comfortable there for the wait ahead of you.

He can tell you are blaming yourself and shutting yourself down, but he surely doesn’t want you to think it’s any of your fault.

“Hey,” he softly breathes out catching your attention. “What’s going on in your pretty head?”

You let out a tired and frustrated sigh, rolling your lips into your mouth.

“Just that I’m such a loser, breaking my boyfriend’s hand on our first Christmas together.”

“You did not break my hand, okay? It was an accident, Love.”

“Yeah, but I fell on you and that’s why it happened. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to with me after this,” you mumble under your breath, but Harry is shocked to hear your words. Moving up his healthy hand to cup your cheek he turns your face to force you to look into his eyes.

“Okay, this is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard from you. Why would I want to break up with you for this?”

“Because… I’m a clumsy loser?” you whisper, feeling the tears stinging in your eyes again. “I’m so not the right match for you, anyone can see that,” you huff sadly.

“Stop this, I hate seeing you doubt yourself. Because it makes me feel like I don’t worship you enough, that I don’t show you enough how crazy I am for you.”

“You are?” you mumble with wide eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckles, running his thumb across the soft skin under your eye. “And this is going to be the funniest and best story to tell later. I can’t wait to tease you every year about it,” he smirks smugly at you, and though you want to roll your eyes at him, your heart is threatening to jump out of your chest. He is planning to spend more Christmases with you!

“I’m sorry this is how our first Christmas turned out to be. In a crowded hospital waiting room,” you huff your apology and he just smiles down at you sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“It doesn’t matter where we are. I just want to be with you.”

[midday0nightmares]

29 - her son.

Previous chapter prove it.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

The door was shut, it won’t open, it was cemented on every side expat for the small slit under it, you try knocking, shout for someone, anyone, but to no avail.

you try the window, it opens, but the sight is even scarier. The city is quiet, too quiet. No traffic in its usually busy streets, every window in the near buildings were closed, no birds in the sky, not a single sign of life, even the sun seems stuck in its place, time isn’t moving.

Outside the closed door, you can hear muffled sounds, you peak under the door and see the familiar white socks on a pair of feet moving around the room, it’s jaemin. you shout and scream for him, but he doesn’t even flinch, he just keeps going through his day. 

You were forgotten, lost forever in his room.

Your eyes open, you find yourself yet again in his room, in his bed, in his arms..it’s still dark outside. You turn over and fall back to sleep.

A door rudely slams shut waking you up again, you left your head and look around, you make a sound of protest.. 

“It’s just jeno, go back to sleep” jaemin’s groggy voice coming from under the covers.

You snuggle deeper into the warm bed sheets and fall asleep.

You wake up later that day to an empty bed, the delicious smell coming through the opened door. You get up and get ready to start a new day, teeth brushed, face washed, hair tamed. 

You walk out to a barley alive jeno who was at the moment paying the price of the wild party he had yesterday, hangover headache, and quit honestly his suffering is such a delight.  

On the other hand, jaemin, was standing in front of the stove, too focused on pouring the pancakes patter didn’t notice your appearance. your feet move to wards him like he was the center of the room, 

“hey” you warp your arms around his waist, catching him by surprise, his eyes crinkle behind the blooming smile.

“heey!” He turns to you and leans down pressing a warm kiss to your forehead, “sleep well?”  his fingers running through your hair.

you shake your head, “nightmares”.

He exaggerates the pout, framing your face in between his hands squishing your checks, he coos at you like you were a child “im sorry”.

Jeno who was staring at you two was disgusted, he makes a gauging sound “you two are gross.. jaemin I couldn’t sleep, nightmares, pay attention to me” he mocks you.

Thanks to binging wrapped in jaemins arms at the moment, you find the courage to roll your eyes, and stare at him with equal disgust.. “pig”the word came out without intent, but it was loud enough for both of them to hear it, making jaemin, proudly, burst into laughter while jeno taking an offense.

The legs of the chair jeno was sitting on dragged on the floor, he repeated with a raised eyebrow “pig?” Like he was giving you the chance to withdraw it, but you hold your stance.

  He walks closer, you can’t tell if he’s being serious but judging by the warm smile that was on jaemin’s face he probably is, so you don’t budge, tightening your hold around jaemin’s mid sections instead.

 when he was at an arm length away from you, “that will teach you” he attacked you with tickles, you move to take shelter behind jaemin, your laughter exploded filling the quite room.. 

But another scream cuts the joyful moment short, a horrified scream that came from outside, you froze in your spot, what could it be now?

Jaemin goes to the door and opens it to investigate, apparently the scream had came from chenle’s apartment.. there were still few people left in his house from the previous night that are running out now and some girls were crying. Jaemin closed the door looking at jeno who shrugged his shoulder, this time they look innocent.. you thought to yourself. 

The atmosphere turned grim, you sat to eat your breakfast quietly, waiting for something that you don’t know. Soon police seiners filled the streets down and chenle’s apartment was sealed off, whatever happened it must be bad. 

A knock on the door, jeno goes to get it this time.. two police officers introduce themselves “can we come in?”, “Sure” jeno opens the door wider and step back fro them to walk in, they step in their eyes scanning the room look before one of them speak “May i ask you where were you last night?” 

“We were at Chenle’s party, out new neighbor, he just moved in” jeno answers. the same man asks again, ”and what can you tell us about it? Anything interesting happened?”.

“No, it was a regular party, music, drinks, girls.. why did something happened? We heard a scream this morning” Jaemin speaks this time. 

“Yeah” the officer sighs, “a young man was found dead in one of the bathrooms this morning”.

“Found dead?” Jeno questions, 

“Killed” the other officer corrects.

The room turns silent, your heart beating fast.. was it jaemin’s doing? You look at him, you can’t tell if his shock was real or another act. 

 After the initial shock has passed, jeno asks them again “who?”, the officers look at each other and decide not to answer him, instead they ask another question.. “where were you between the hours 2:30 and 4:00 am last night?”

“I was here with sera” jaemin turns to you to confirm his alibi, you straighten your back before you speak “yeah he was here, with me”, They look at jeno satisfied with your answer waiting for his alibi.

“I was at the party, with Hacehan. We spent the whole night together with some girls” jeno tells them, 

“Can you give me his contacts?”,

“Yeah sure” jeno gives them his number. “And you miss?” They ask you, 

for a moment you have forgot that you exist.

“She was here, she didn’t come to the party” jaemin speaks for you, but why is he laying?  

 “And did anything happened at the party? Any fights?” They continue their questioning. “No.. nothing I can recall” jaemin answers and jeno nods in confirmation. 

the officer nods and asks again ”do you know a guy named lie yangynag. “Umm .. isn’t he one of chenle’s friends, I’ve met him briefly last night at the party” jeno answers. “And?” On the officers asks for him to continue, “there’s no and, it was the first time i’ve met the guy, he introduced himself and quickly left” Jeno nervously said.

“Okay gentlemen thank you for your cooperation. we are done for now, but if we have more questions we will back, have a nice day”, they turn to leave but jaemin asks them before they do “No problem happy to help, but who .. who was it?” he refers to the dead man. 

“Liu yanyang” one of the answers.

yangynag that strange guy.. You can’t help but to be suspicious of jaemin.

after they have left, you lean to him and ask him in a used voice “was it you?”, he whips his head to you “no!”.

But you don’t actually believe him, you kinda wish it was him taking revenge for you.

.

.

Later that day, the door knocks again. Jaemin goes to open it, this time it was one officer.

“Good evening sir, I am here to speak with mister na jaemin”,

“Good evening, I am jaemin what can I do for you?”.

The man hesitated before continuing, maybe he noticed you were standing couple of feet away form them and listing, “I think it’s better if you come to the station with me”.

“Why? Am I under arrest?” Jaemin asks.

you panic and run to jeno’s room,“they are taking jaemin” you panicky blurt out, jeno jumps out of his seat and comes out of his room with you following him..

“No, no sir you are not, we just want to talk to you” the officer assures jaemin.“Alright, let just change” jaemin agrees to go with him. 

You follow jaemin, “don’t go with him! What if he’s lying?” you try to persuade him, “don’t worry babygirl, nothing will happen I’ll be back for dinner” he waves off your concerns.

“What is this about?” Jeno asks him while he change his clothes. 

“I don’t know” jaemin pulls his sweater over his head and continues “but if something happens you know who to call”.

You stand by the wall, your face morphed with worry, you still don’t want him to go. He smiles when he sees the look on your face, he opens his arms for you to come and you do, your arms holding him as tight as you can, “don’t worry nothing will happen okay?” He tells you gain, you have no choice but to trust his words, you nod and loosen your hold on him to let him go. 

He walks out with the officer and closes the door behind him, you look at jeno and see the same look on his face, he was worried too.