#i barely had time to think about the stupid long essay

[itsjaywalkers]

me when i was supposed to have three (3) meetings with my long essay supervisor and i've only had one . almost two months ago btw . and the deadline for the long essay is next week . i'm literally writing her an email rn feeling like the messiest person on earth (i am) while hoping she won't chew my head off and agree to have at least one more meeting.. wish me luck and all that

[lexosaurus]

Ghost Boy? In my college class? It's More Likely Than You Think

[ao3 link]

Warnings: None Words: 6,031

****

College was crazy. 

Okay?

There was absolutely no reason why college had to be as insane as it was.

Alright, maybe there was a reason. A reason called, "We have four years to make these students professionals in their chosen field, and some even less time than that."

Danny understood. He really, truly did. He knew that to work in his dream job at NASA, he needed to learn not just how to locate the constellations in the night sky, but also about subjects like chemistry, biology, calculus, physics—a lot of physics.

But seriously, when the hell was a guy supposed to sleep?

Last night's problem set only had five questions, theoretically. But it was run by a completely sadistic site that Vlad himself must have designed—that bastard—because while submitting a correct answer seemed to mark one of the five outlined stars in gold, the site also seemed to be more than happy to remove the gold star if he got a problem incorrect. 

Which meant that the theoretical five-questioned assignment ended up taking Danny many, many more questions than that. 

Just when he had thought the hell was over, he realized he still hadn't begun his paper for his mandatory freshman writing class. So then, he got the absolute pleasure of writing an essay about a stupid, Victorian-era play he didn't read regarding the symbolism of a hat as it related to...foreshadowing, or something. 

He didn't read it. He only signed up for this dumb writing seminar because the timing worked better on his schedule. He'd much rather be taking the writing class about horror novels. But unfortunately, that one happened during his mandatory physics course.

When it was all over and he finally caught sight of his pillow, he was pretty sure he’d shed a single tear. Did he remember sinking into the mattress? Closing his eyes, and drifting off?

No. He didn't. 

He was fucking tired.

But apparently, the universe did actually hate him because instead of being roused by his alarm the next morning, he was shaken by his ghost sense.

Oh yeah, apparently Skulker found his dorm.

Joy!

No seriously, fuck that guy. 

What the hell kind of sick weirdo wants to make a rug out of someone else's skin, anyway? Not to mention that Skulker had no conception of what a good time to hunt was, considering he seriously was trying to start chaos at five in the fucking morning.

Again, fuck that guy.

He only just barely had enough time to fly home, shower, hastily read over and submit his essay (he'd long since learned from high school that he couldn't trust himself that late at night to be coherent), and make a mad dash to his favorite bagel spot on the way to class.

However, the bagel guy—he had a name, Danny was almost sure—must have been under the weather today because, for some reason, he could not stop staring at Danny.

The instinct to run his hand over his face to check for post-fight ectoplasm splatters was a learned reaction at this point. But this time, he couldn't feel anything off. His skin was dry. Cold, like usual, but dry.

"Uh..." The bagel guy continued staring at him slack-jawed.

"Do I have something on my face?" 

That seemed to shake the bagel guy out of his stupor. He blinked, his eyes darting around to catch the eye of a few other customers who, for some reason, were giving Danny a really wide berth.

Did he smell or something? Had he forgotten to put his deodorant on?

Oh god, did his parents do something to make national news again? Did the news use a family photo when reporting the story or something? Why was everyone looking at him? Seriously, what the hell was going on today?

The bagel guy locked eyes with Danny once more, briefly, before darting back down to the register and handing Danny his change. "One everything bagel with cream cheese for the, uh—for—coming right up."

"Thanks," Danny said, trying to be as friendly as possible. Jazz always said that he shouldn't judge people for acting strange. That they could be going through something personal.

So, Danny shook it off. Maybe he missed a chunk of ectoplasm on his hair when he was showering. Skulker had nailed his shoulder pretty well. The green, ecto-infused smoothie he'd sipped that morning was working its magic to mend his skin, but who knew? Maybe a little bit of blood was leaking through his shirt. It wouldn't be the first time that happened, anyway.

Or the last.

Amazingly, he did get his bagel. But when the man handed it to Danny, his eyes were almost popping out of his skull. His heavily accented, "Ah, here is one—ah, your—your bagel," sounded especially halted today. 

But no. The big, gruff bagel guy wouldn't have stuttered. He wouldn't have been nervous to pass a bagel to a tired-looking college student either.

Danny must have misheard. 

He darted down the sidewalk. He was going to be late for class. And it was because of his internal panic that he didn't notice the girl with her nose buried in her cell phone at first. Not until she almost crashed into him, looked up, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"HOLY SHIT!" she yelled, her hands flailing beside her. Her phone flew out from her fingers and clattered on the pavement.

"Sorry!" Danny scooped up her phone from the ground and handed it to her.

She stared at him as if he were completely insane, making no move to take the phone until Danny leaned forward a little closer and pointedly said, "Here."

Whether or not this girl was hungover or still drunk from whatever party she'd been at the night before, Danny did not have time to work around her brain. He was going to be late for class!

"Fuck," she said, eyes still glued on Danny. She did, however, finally reach out and gently take the offered cell phone.

Which was all he needed.

Mission accomplished, he whirled back around intending on continuing his fast-walk-nearly-run pace to the science building, but caught the eye of a biker who seemed to go into a similar trance as the bagel guy and ended up crashing straight into a parked car.

"Oh my god!" Danny darted over to the strewn biker. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Stay back!" the man yelled, struggling up and holding his hand out to block Danny from seeing his face.

Was this guy...cowering at him? Like he was some sort of ghost?

No, no. This was silly. Now Danny was just being paranoid.

"Just stay back!"

An oddly phrased demand, and a little biting at that, but the biker did just crash into a parked car because of Danny and that other girl—who was currently holding her phone up at Danny—so he guessed he could forgive this random dude for being a little snappish.

Danny didn't have time to dwell on this stranger anyway, because holy shit his class was starting in ten minutes and if Danny didn't get his ass to the room right now he was going to be screwed.

So with one more apology to the biker, and one more glance to the strange phone-obsessed girl, Danny adjusted the strap of his bag back over his shoulder and took off down the road.

Not literally took off. Though, he really wanted to jet through the air today. He'd had these urges to duck out of sight and fly to class before, but it never felt so compelling as right now. 

Unfortunately, the street was crowded as shit, and in between classes as it was, the building would likely be crowded too. Finding a discreet place to transform would probably take just as long as running to the classroom like his half-life depended on it. And so, the latter option it was.

Somehow, he managed to make it to class with five minutes to spare. Okay, maybe not somehow. Maybe he did risk using his flight to propel him forward a little bit. Could anyone blame him? 

College was crazy. And anyone who thought they saw a guy not quite touching the ground when he walked could have just as easily been sleep-deprived and were almost certainly hallucinating. Humans couldn't fly! Only ghosts could fly, and Danny Fenton was clearly a human college student just running to class.

Gaslight, gatekeep, ghostboss—or whatever the saying was.

Energy was buzzing in Danny’s veins, and he found it a little difficult to stay in his seat. An aftereffect of only barely using his flight powers, he was sure. His body got a taste of being airborne, and now it didn't want to return to the laws of gravity.

Danny could forgive his ghost core for that. Gravity could be very exhausting sometimes. Especially when he was in the middle of a ghost fight and his enemy was hurling him to the ground.

But he was in a lecture, and it would look weird if this random college student was hovering over his seat, so Danny forced his butt onto the chair as he dropped his bag beside him.

Whispers fluttered around him, which wasn't too unusual. People often talked in pleading freak-out whispers to their friends after an especially grueling night of homework.

Danny was about to turn to his chemistry lecture buddy and do the same—because seriously, he was going to have nightmares over that damn assignment for weeks—when he realized that his chemistry buddy was not in his usual seat.

And then, a whisper caught the attention of his enhanced eardrum.

"...ghost..."

"...Phantom..."

Ah, that explained it. 

Oh yeah, it was all coming together now.

They must have been talking about the ghost fight from this morning, the one with Skulker. This city wasn't Amity Park, so the students here weren't exactly used to ghost attacks. Of course, the initial fight was probably very exciting for them.

And, well, his parents probably were on the news that morning, but likely only to be interviewed about the attack. Maybe they ended up rambling about ghostly habits and migration patterns or whatever other bullshit theories they’d been churning with recently.

So then, the bagel guy must have recognized Danny as a Fenton, a child of Jack and Maddie, the infamous, kooky ghost experts.

The effects of that realization were delayed, but when they finally hit, he felt like his brain was hit by a semi-truck. Because, shit. He didn't know if he could deal with his bagel guy knowing who he was. He was going to have to find a new bagel spot, wasn't he? 

Danny craned his neck over to the door. The lecture was supposed to be starting, but his chemistry buddy was nowhere to be found.

But then, to his immense relief that he wouldn't have to suffer through this lecture by himself, the door opened to reveal the tall, lanky form of Cameron, his chemistry buddy.

Danny eagerly moved his bag out of the way of Cam's seat, his woes of that fucking assignment hot on his lips, but before he could begin his trauma-dumping session, something strange happened.

Really, really strange.

As Cam began habitually walking over to his seat, he looked up, caught Danny's eye, and froze.

His mouth parted into a perfect 'o,' his eyes widened, and his eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. Then, he backed up, caught the bewildered expression of another student near him, and moved to another aisle.

Danny sat there too stunned to call out to Cam, though the intent was at the precipice of his being. Hurt stabbed his gut, and the social anxiety the A-List had trained his brain for in high school started creeping up his spine.

Did Danny do something wrong? 

Why had Cam moved away?

What did that look to the other kid mean?

He tried to think of a reason why Cam might have suddenly decided that Danny was a weirdo freak that should be avoided, but the only thing he remembered doing between yesterday and today was the two texts he'd sent at eleven last night complaining about the assignment. But surely, everyone had complained, right?

Or was the assignment genuinely effortless for everyone? And Danny was just an idiot who didn't understand some really simple concept, and now Cam had suddenly realized that he'd picked the wrong chemistry buddy to sit next to in class?

That must have been it.

Why else had he moved away?

Danny turned around, looking to the back of the lecture hall. But all he could see was a sea of faces all looking at him.

Okay, honestly, what the fuck was wrong with everyone today?

He whipped out his phone, paranoia striking through his gut like a spear. Maybe he'd accidentally revealed himself during the fight? But he checked Google, searching for Phantom's human identity, but all he got at the top of the search were old Reddit threads theorizing about which historical figure he could have been, and celebrity news sites spouting completely absurd clickbait-type theories about his past.

Is Danny Phantom Napoleon's son?

Could Danny Phantom be Related to George Washington?

New Theory Suggests Danny Phantom is Alexander the Great!

Yeah, like Danny was leading legions of ghosts around Europe anytime soon.

As Danny wracked his brain for what the hell he'd done to deserve the wrath of having his classmates stare at him like he was some sort of weird alien species and everyone was plotting on how to initiate first contact, the side door opened and the professor came darting in the hall with a stack of folders all but falling out of his hands and a muttering of breathy, "sorry, sorry," light on his lips.

The muttering broke out into jilted, uncomfortable laughter, and Danny still couldn't help the feeling that they were laughing at him. 

He tried to brush that off as just the remnants of his high school on him and keep his attention focused on his short, salt-and-pepper-haired professor who looked like he couldn't remember if he was going to a beach party or Burning Man today, and decided to dress for both. 

Yang put the manila folders down on the front table, miraculously without spilling any of the contents inside, set his bag down on the rolling chair beside him, and picked up a piece of chalk to face the board.

He held a hand up and began writing Chemistry 101 — Stoichiometry on the board.

Behind Danny, the snickers grew louder. 

Was there some inside joke that he just wasn't getting? Had his classmates prepared some sort of prank for the teacher today and Danny hadn't read the email? Was it April Fool's Day, even though logic and reasoning told Danny that it was only October?

"Sorry I was late, everyone," Yang began. "Now if you don't mind, I want to begin by going over a few problems from last night's assignment. I noticed a pattern in the problems everyone was getting wrong..."

Someone coughed rather obnoxiously behind him.

Danny felt ice begin to build in his stomach. 

"...so as you can see here, I noticed a lot of people forgot to calculate the used excess of iron to find the amount of excess reactants. Remember, guys, you can't just subtract the bigger and smaller masses in the problem..."

Another obnoxious cough. 

Yang didn't break stride. "...you have to actually convert it to moles and set up your mole ratio, and then convert back to grams. I mentioned this in class but it seemed like too many of you—"

"Professor Yang?" the impatient voice of Brittany, one of his classmates, said from behind.

The class broke out in a fit of whispers and giggles, this time not even trying to hide their restlessness.

"What is it?" Yang turned around, his chalk still hovering on the board.

And then he looked at Danny. His eyes bugged out like a cartoon, sticking out beyond the rims of his glasses. His jaw opened and closed like a fish, and he dropped the chalk on the floor.

Now, the class was roaring with noise.

Danny stared eye-to-eye with the professor for ten seconds or ten minutes. He didn't know which, and it didn't matter anyway, because then Yang's thin lips opened to exclaim a word that may as well have electrocuted him all over again:

"Phantom?" 

Confusion and panic hit Danny like a sledgehammer.

How did Yang know he was Phantom? Had he been revealed? Did everyone know he was Phantom?

And then he heard the whispers. 

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

"Why is he here?"

"It's Phantom!"

No!

No!

How did everyone know his secret?

Danny had to stop this.

He had over four years of hiding his ghost half from his parents, the world, and most impressively, his parents. Over the years, he'd honed his ability at lying and using his silver tongue to smooth over situations with such practiced ease, he was expecting his Oscar in the mail any day now.

Which is why, like an utter pro, he jumped up from his seat and shouted, "It's a lie, I'm not a ghost!"

The room went silent, and then was launched into a frenzy.

"Phantom!"

"Is he delusional?"

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

His panic was bordering on hysteria as it stampeded over him, beating his core so furiously that Danny thought it was going to jump through his ribcage.

He stood, his gloved hands held out in front of him as he began his best at pleading with the masses, but before he could grovel too much, Professor Yang's voice sliced through him like a knife, calling out, "Phantom! What are you doing in my class?"

Wait...

Gloved hand?

Danny looked at his hands again. They were gloved.

And glowing.

The relief was so heavy on his shoulders, his back, and every inch of his skin. It was also mortifying.

Because here he was, in his Chemistry 101 class not as Fenton, but as Phantom. 

"Holy shit," Danny muttered. 

What. The. Hell.

No, really.

What the hell?

How was this happening?

Had he really been so tired that he'd forgotten to change out of his Phantom form after Skulker's fight?

No, hang on—had he been walking around in his Phantom form all morning?

How had he not noticed?

Then all the memories came flying back to him at once. The bagel guy acting weird, staring at him like he wasn't sure if he should seriously give a ghost a bagel because "Do ghosts need to eat? Is human food poison?"

And then the girl. She hadn't screamed because she nearly crashed into a stranger, she screamed and threw her phone in the air because she'd nearly crashed into Phantom. And that's why she was recording him after, too. She was recording Phantom, a ghost that wasn't native to this college town.

Danny thought he'd die of cringe-fail right there because that meant she also recorded the biker crashing into a parked car and was probably uploading it to TikTok later. He was sure it would be trending in minutes.

That was, if she hadn't already uploaded it to Tiktok, and it wasn't already trending. His phone suddenly felt heavy in his pocket. 

He looked around at the faces of intrigue and excitement, feebly attempting to squash the anxiety that was currently tap dancing over his skin.  Okay, so his initial attempt at acting hadn't gone so well. That was okay; nobody could be perfect all the time. If he just channeled the inner cool and suave hero that he was, he could totally save the situation.

For sure.

He floated a few feet in the air. His legs felt awkward sprawled out, and he tried to form a ghost-tail, but somehow his sense of self was too strong for that today. No matter, to balance it out, he splayed his arms out wide and began doing jazz hands, saying, "It's me! Danny Phantom! Just here checking your classroom for ghosts!" 

There was a moment of collective pause before his brain caught up with what his mouth said, and then he scrambled, making a big show of ducking around the room to search for...ghosts, or something. He lowered to the floor to check under the auditorium chairs, flew to the front of the room to peek around the tables, and finally went up to the ceiling to glance around the four corners of the room.

Once he felt embarrassed enough, he stopped in the center of the room, puffed out his chest, and said, "Good news, citizens! There are no ghosts in this room!"

Whispers and mutters once again broke out from his classmates, along with a few giggles. In the front of the classroom, Yang's head was craned up to look at him, his expression showing pure bafflement. 

Okay, Danny was bombing this set. He was catching onto the vibe of the room, and had come to this very astute conclusion: there was no saving this. 

Time to abort the mission.

"Well, that will be all! Have a fun class learning about chemistry!" 

And then, without another word, he jetted through the wall and into the hallway of the building, turning invisible immediately. Fortunately, with classes having started several minutes ago, the corridors were mostly empty. Only a few stragglers remained, booking it down the halls and trying to duck inconspicuously into their classrooms. 

Danny cut around a corner of the hall where, thankfully, no one was standing. That didn't stop him from triple-checking over his shoulder (it was just the water fountain, Danny) before he let his ring wash over him.

Then, when he was sure he was human again this time, he ran down the hall and pushed open the auditorium door to his class which, by the looks of things, hadn't calmed down from their encounter yet.

The door hit the wall with a bang—oops, he thought he hadn't pushed so hard—and then every head was turned to him.

"Sorry!" Danny rubbed the back of his neck and gestured vaguely to the clock on the wall. "I lost track of time."

The room was...silent. Incredibly, confoundingly silent. 

That wasn't good.

On instinct, Danny glanced down again to make sure that he was wearing his red hoodie and blue jeans and not his Phantom black and white jumpsuit. He was, in fact, wearing the right clothes. And out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the glint of his black bangs.

So then, what the fuck?

Alright, there was no need to panic. He was human, his classmates were human, they'd just met Phantom, and now Danny was busting in the classroom late. It wouldn't be the first time he was late to class, anyway. Lots of students were late for chemistry! 

With his brain sufficiently pep-talked, he pointed as inconspicuously to his seat as he could and said, "I'll just...take my seat." 

No one responded, so he took that as his cue to begin his walk of shame up the steps of the auditorium aisles to his usual seat near the front, which was still amazingly void of students anywhere near it.

"Phantom?" a voice rang out from the spattering of students around the room.

Danny missed the next step and ate shit on the floor. His bag hit his back heavily, and he could have sworn his shoe nearly flew off his feet. He scrambled to stand, his hand missing the railing only once, before he managed to stand back proud and tall. Sort of. His backpack had slid off one shoulder, and his body was hunched forward and he tried to regain his breath because holy shit, it actually really hurt for his torso to land on the corner of the step.

He rubbed his sternum, sure it was going to bruise, and coughed out, "Uh—what?"

"Phantom!" the voice, now too familiar, repeated. "You're him. Phantom."

Danny glanced up, and dread not only slammed into him with the force of a semi, but also backed up and floored it into his soul again. And again.

Because that voice was none other than his Chem 101 buddy, Cam.

No, Danny was a magnificent actor. He surely could save this one.

What did people always say? Something about the third try being a charm?

He could really use a charm right now. Unfortunately, Murphy seemed keen on watching him suffer instead.

"No—no way! I'm not a ghost! I'm totally human, guys! See?" Danny said with quite a lot of conviction, waving his hands beside his body like some sort of circus display.

It was so conclusive of a performance, that Cam simply laughed. 

Shit. This was not how he wanted today to go at all.

"I can't believe I never put it together before! Did people really buy that in your hometown?" 

"What act? I'm not acting!" Danny insisted.

But his classmates, it seemed, were even less convinced. 

"Seriously, it's so obvious."

"How did no one notice?"

"They're literally the same person it's crazy."

"What? No! No we're not the same person!" Danny insisted, trying not to sound desperate and hopelessly failing. "He's my—uh—twin? Yeah, that. He's my twin."

"He's obviously not," a classmate said.

"He is. He died in the womb," Danny refuted.

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

"Does it sound better or worse if I say that my mother drank ectoplasmic smoothies while she was pregnant and that's why he turned into a ghost?"

"Fenton!" Professor Yang called out.

Danny felt his blood turn so cold they started forming frost in his veins. 

And then, he refused to look down because he was pretty sure ice crystals were glueing his feet to the floor.

In his panic, he'd totally forgotten that this was, in fact, a classroom. With a professor. And not just any professor, his chemistry professor. As in, the guy that had the sole power of crushing all of Danny's dreams of working for NASA via the power of the curve.

Yang took a step back, colliding with the chalkboard behind him and smearing white dust all over his brightly-colored shirt. But he ignored this, instead finding it more pertinent to fold his arms and regard Danny with a look of pure incredulation. "Are you really Phantom?"

"What? No!" Danny said. However, as luck would have it, that gasping answer caused him to inhale the wrong way, and coughs shot up his throat to overtake his body.

And then like the valiant superhero he was, he began having a coughing fit. In front of his classmates.

He knew Sam and Tucker always called him a dork, but this was really unfair.

"You okay, Phantom?" one student asked.

Danny tried to argue, "I'm not Phantom," but unfortunately for him, he hadn't stopped coughing yet.

Taking his silence for a confirmation that he was in fact the elusive ghost known as Phantom, another classmate commented, "I didn't know Phantom breathed."

Not-so-quiet whispers and mutters broke out around the class at once discussing theories of his cardiovascular system.

All while Danny was doubled over, trying desperately to reclaim what little of his dignity was still left. As well as reclaim some of the oxygen that his body seemed more than willing to push away for some reason.

Seriously, was he out of karma yet? 

Okay, Universe, if this is your way getting back at me for reading the Cliffnotes of that book for the essay last night, I get it. Cheating is bad, blah blah blah. I'm very sorry in a deeply remorseful way, so can we please stop ruining my life now?

"...so he wouldn't need to breathe!" A classmate's voice had stepped above the rest.

"That's what I said!"

"Dude, he's literally fallen asleep on my floor once. I'm telling you he needs to breathe."

That voice must have been Cam's.

Danny took a deep breath, regaining control of his lungs. "Wait, guys!"

But it was too late. And, oh god, why were people now giggling over their phones? Had someone taken a video of him earlier? Was he trending online right now?

If this got back to Sam and Tucker, he was never going to live this down. 

"Okay, okay!" Yang's voice rose in volume. "Class, settle down!"

The class went silent.

"Alright, I know we are all curious to know about Fenton's secret double life—"

"I don't have a secret double life!"

"Sure you don't, Phantom," Cam said.

"—But please, we do actually have quite a bit of material to cover today, judging by the very impressive homework scores from last night. And, by the way, class, might I remind you all that my office hours are on Mondays and Wednesdays from two to four. I won't name names, but I'll just say that if you need to make it a point to come for some review, you know who you are."

Was Yang looking at him?

"Regardless, if Fenton is done screwing around with his ghost powers, we do need to get through the material sometime this year."

"But I'm not a ghost!" Danny protested.

"Dude, you're standing in a block of ice," a classmate argued. 

"Holy shit, he froze his legs to the floor!"

Danny felt frost on his cheeks. "The A/C system is broken! Everyone knows that!"

"The ice is glowing." 

"So? A lot of ice glows."

"Fenton, please." Yang had never sounded so disappointed in his life. "I'd expect anyone in this class to know that ice is made of which elements?"

Danny hated where this was going. "Hydrogen and oxygen."

"And please describe the bonds to me."

"The hydrogens have a double bond with the oxygen, and then there's two pairs of electrons leftover."

"What shape?" Yang pressed, pushing his wiry glasses up his nose.

"Bent."

"Good, thank you. So we have two hydrogen and one oxygen in an H20 molecule, yes? And so tell me, would that configuration with those two elements cause anything to glow?"

"Um, no." Danny had the sudden urge to die. "Water does not glow." 

"But, interestingly, ectoplasmic water does glow, correct? Because....?"

They'd touched over ecton science earlier in the semester. "Because ectons are larger and can sit closer to the nucleus which results in atoms fusing and due to the greater amounts of energy they emit, some this excess energy can be seen in our visible spectrum."

Yang smiled and then gestured to the seat devoid of any humans near it that Danny, previously Phantom, had been sitting in at the start of class. "Thank you, Mr. Phantom. Now, if we're all done dillydallying, we have some stoichiometry to go over."

It took Danny more than a second of the awkward silence that followed to realize that oh yeah, his feet were literally frozen in place.

"So..." He glanced around the room, meeting the expectant gazes of his classmates. "Just to be clear, none of you care that I might potentially be..."

A ghost?

Phantom?

Some sort of weird mutant hybrid thing?

"Danny, you're the only one making a big deal out of this," a classmate answered.

Danny guffawed.

"Yeah, it's whatever. You're dead, so what? We're all dead in college. You're not special."

"I have a biology lecture later right after this for my weed-out course and going to that is basically the same thing as dying, I'm pretty sure," Cam joined in.

Danny resisted the urge to smack his forehead with his open palm.

He turned back to Yang. "And if I were maybe the—uh—being that kind of has saved humanity from being invaded by ghosts give or take one or two times, would that maybe get me extra credit on the next test?"

"No."

Well, that was a brutally quick response.

Danny shrugged. "It was worth a shot." He reigned in on his core's fluttering, and the ice began to melt around his feet. 

He tried to ignore the obvious phone flipped his way as he did.

Shit, this was going to be all over social media later. How embarrassing. He could only hope that Tucker wouldn't find it. But who was he kidding? If he checked his phone, he bet he already had about sixteen messages from Tucker laughing at his misfortune.

Once he finished freeing himself from his ecto-ice like some ghost toddler, he began a very graceful and humiliating trek to his seat, complete with multiple instances of him bumping into chairs as he trudged down the row. When he finally reached his seat, it was just his luck that the rusty hinges let out an obnoxious creaking wail as he lowered himself down. He winced, hissing out apologies, but in the silent hall, the sounds of the withered metal were almost too much to bear.

It was for that reason that his entire body refused to unclench until the professor was well underway with his lecture about excess reactants and whatever else they were going to be quizzed on next week.

He tried his best to pay attention and not check his phone for the no doubt endless notifications. He'd already made his presence too obvious in this hall, anyway. Professor Yang would have been thoroughly annoyed if, after everything, Danny decided to spend the remainder of the class on his phone.

Miraculous as it was, he did manage to survive the lecture.  

After class when he finally was able to check his phone, he saw that the world was too focused on the viral posts about Phantom being spotted outside of Amity Park to give any attention to the little itty bitty post of Danny, in human form, frozen to his lecture hall floor.

As it turned out, that post only had two likes—one of them was Tucker—and one comment from a random user reading, "lol why phantom freeze that dweeby kid to the ground???"

Danny didn't resist the urge to facepalm this time, and in fact did it so hard he was surprised he didn't give himself a concussion.

Well.

At least his secret was safe.

****

"You really don't care that I'm Phantom, do you?" Danny asked, looking up from the barely clean dorm room floor that his back was currently stretched out against.

"No?" Cam glanced from his notebook. "Why?"

"Uh, I figured the whole part where I'm a part ghost would have been a little weird?"

Cam's thin brows shot up to his hairline. "You're only a part ghost?"

"Yeah? Why, what did you think?"

"Oh, I just figured you were legit dead or something."

Cam uttered those words with such nonchalance that Danny reacted immediately, shooting up from the floor so hard he accidentally switched into his Phantom form.

"You thought I was dead?" His voice echoed when he spoke, and his ghostly tail wiggled underneath him. 

Cam's pointed look and handwave were explanation enough.

"Okay, you know what? That's fair." Danny swiped his notebook off the floor and forced his adrenaline-spiked body back into human form. "That's actually super fair."

"Yeah I mean, being a ghost is sort of Phantom's whole shtick, anyway."

"Right but like...wait, you didn't even care that you thought I was a fully dead and deceased ghost taking college classes? And you still wanted to do homework with me tonight?"

Cam, once again, only gave a very lazy shrug. "Well, yeah. I just want to pass this class, dude, and we've already established that we should tag-team team this class instead of trying to rawdog it by ourselves."

"I mean...I guess?" Danny blinked at his friend, his mind reeling with astonishment. "You're weird, you know that?"

"Says the ghost-human person or whatever. Now, are we gonna finish this prelab assignment, or are you gonna keep having an existential crisis about your place in the Universe?" 

Danny slid back on the floor, propping his knees up to lay his notebook against. "No, you're right. We need to finish this prelab."

"Thank fucking god."

****

[read more of my stuff here]

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written. 

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

[nyhti]

Batman Rogues Tumblr AU:

Jervis:

-Joined Tumblr in 2009, has had the same blog all this time -Has a big follower count, but most of those blogs have long since been abandoned -Is very active -No sideblogs, everything from kink to cute animal pics is on the same blog -Has witnessed or been involved in every single major event in this site's history -Attended Dashcon (he was the one who pissed in the ball pit) -Involved in some sort of petty drama on a daily basis -Has a 20km long post of just going back and fort arguing with some random user. This argument started in 2016 and neither remembers what it even was about. He gets worried if the other person hasn't responded in a while. -Gets at least 3 callout posts a week. Always makes sure to reblog them and adds an essay underneath defending himself no matter if the callout post was about liking the wrong pony in MLP or murdering someone in cold blood. -Kinnie drama the likes of which you've never seen before -And in general just discord you never thought anyone could ever come up with -At this point you wonder if he's even having fun on this site, but he just keeps on reblogging bunny pics like it's nothing -Has a Wacom drawing tablet

Jonathan:

-Joined in 2011 after Jervis introduced him to the site -Has some really tacky theme he hasn't changed since 2013 -About a couple hundred followers, but they are very devoted. Lots of mutuals -579257405547 blurry photos of Nightmare -Post fics and essays on various topics he's been thinking about lately -Of course reblogs every single spoopy art piece he finds -Definitely does fic request -The most fucked up smut you've ever read -Like smut you don't even know is smut, because it's just that confusing -Most of his post don't get past 50 notes, but he has made a couple of post, mainly of the: ”Here's how you write x, y and z...” and ”As a Professor of Psychology, I can tell you...” variety, that have about 10 000 notes -Has a chill time on Tumblr -Only uses Tumblr on desktop. Has never even seen the app. -Completely unironically reblogs every cool skeleton on a motorcycle pic

Joker:

-Joined in 2013 -The only reason he joined is because he once came across a horny drawing of Batman and searching for the artist led him to Tumblr. -Starts writing a post, gets distracted mid way though and starts doing something else. Comes back to Tumblr 3 hours later, notices he was making a post, doesn't even bother rereading it despite not remembering what it was about and just hits posts. His blog is full of completely incomprehensible post that just stop mid way through -Makes a couple post that get so popular they are still making rounds today. They will always have additions like: ”I still can't believe this post was made by the fucking Joker” and ”Joker had a Tumblr?!” -Forgot his password a month after joining and never visited the site again. Barely remembers he ever had an account -Those true crime people still harvest his 20-post-pathetic-excuse-for-a-blog-blog for content to this day all the while completely ignoring all the rogues with still active (and better) blogs. They are saying things like: ”Ooohhhh, it's like a deep dive into his twisted mind :00” and are always trying to find some hidden symbolism and meaning behind all his ”just farted so loud it scared the neighbor's cat” kinda posts.

Eddie:

-Joined in 2011 -759752974576 sideblogs, 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts -When he's really low he'll post a poll like: ”Be honest, am I cute? Yes/No” and then has his 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts hit ”Yes” and somehow ”No” still wins. He deletes the whole post. -Posts the most obvious ”and everybody clapped” Tumblr fake stories you've seen. When he gets called out, he pretends you were supposed to figure out they were fake -Has an awful time on Tumblr, but can't delete, because he's addicted to getting notes -Always falls for every one of those post where OP pretends to be stupid on purpose (i.e. smooth sharks, putting fingers in guns etc.) -Posts riddles everyday that even his biggest haters cannot help but try and solve -Sends himself hatemail so he can post the witty comeback he just came up with. Forgot to hit anon once and people just won't let it go

Hugo:

-Banned for posting cock :/

[iznyangwoni]

STRINGS OF FATE, chapter three

“are you sure we can stay here?” you ask heeseung, getting in his room. He said that the coffee shop was getting too loud, and he couldn’t really focus there, so he took you to the dorm. Obviously, you’re not that dumb, you know where he wants this to end and honestly, you dont want that.

But you need to finish this stupid essay, so might as well do it with his help and also, maybe, at least you hope, that being close to him without going too far, will make him want to know you in more than just that aspect. “Ah. Sure, Jungwon is at the gym at this time.”

You nod, something about that Jungwon guy is really iffy. You still dont know why or what makes you think that but, anytime your eyes meet that glacial look, its like your lifespan decreases. Still, he’s not here now, so that’s great. Heeseung leaves a few seconds to go to the bathroom, and you spend that time looking around.

Each dorm room is combined by three different rooms, and since Heeseung and Jungwon are just two, they used the center one as a little hanging out space. Its… not your style, at all. You’re used to open spaces, lots of light entering the room and light forniture, and well, this is the complete opposite.

You’re not even sure it would pass the monthly inspection, the walls are decorated with graffiti, which are banned, the curtains are so dark you can barely see, and it overall looks like living hell here. But you’re no one to judge, maybe thats just how usual VKs are used to live in their castles… cause they have castles, right?

One thing that catches your eyes is a little picture frame. You take it in your hands to look at it closely, its a photo of Heeseung’s group, when they were younger. You can clearly see him, in the center, taller than anyone else and with a huge smile on his face, on his right is who you think is Jimin, both Sunoo and Minjeong have mentioned her a couple of times, and not for good reasons. Meanwhile on the far left is Chaewon, you’ve seen her a couple of times on campus, all you know is that she’s pretty funny but also can be pretty hot headed.

And then, on Heeseung’s right, is Jungwon. If you didn’t know they were friends, you wouldn’t have even recognized him. He was so much shorter than Heeseung, and even Jimin. His cheeks were puffy and you could see the shine in his eyes from the picture, a smile on his face, something you had never seen before. “Stalking around?” you were so focused on the picture that you didnt even hear Heeseung getting out of the bathroom.

“Oh! No, no, this just caught my attention.” “Aah, that one.” the guy takes the frame off of your hands and points at it with an amused smile. “Weren’t we so cute?” you smile, honestly, yes they were cute, but the filthy clothes they were wearing and the dirt on their faces in that picture, definitely makes you think something else instead of ‘cute’.

“Have you guys been friends for long? Jungwon doesn’t even look like himself there. Must’ve been a long time.” Heeseung puts the frame back were it was, and leans his shoulder on the wall, looking at you with that same smile. He nods, probably replying to your first question. “Yeah. that was before the isle of the lost was even open.” You just nod, its been eight years since that happened, you barely even understood what was happening at the time.

“And Jungwon isnt always so gloomy. you know. He just.. he’s pretty different.” You nod again, wondering what he means by that. Most of the people you know here, if not all, are sons and daughters of princesses, princes, royal guards, or enchanted beings, fairies and more. You’ve never really met the son of a god, let alone three deities. But you still wonder how that would affect him, is it in a social way? Maybe he feels like an outcast? You should try being his friend then..

“Anyway, this friday the Princeternity is hosting a party, i know a guy or two there, i was wondering if you’d like to come?” Your cheeks and ears become red the second he asks you that. Is he asking you out? At a party? Are you really going to a party with him? This is a huge deal, you thought he was looking for something casual but this, this is huge. You nod enthusiastically, maybe too much, since he giggles right after.

“Yeah! I mean, sure. Sure. I’d love to. This friday?” He laughs nods his head to say yes. His hand comes to your face, his fingers pinching your cheek gently. “Can’t wait to see you all dolled up for me, uh.”

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[throneofsapphics]

ooh can I get an iced honey and marshmallow chai with whipped cream please?

lucky you're a dreamer

feysand x f!reader

summary: angsty feysand forced proximity with fluff. the one where Rhys is your tutor.

warnings: angst, modern!au

a/n: just a fair warning, this has taken off in my brain and there might be second parts to it!

coffee bar celebration

The tutoring sessions were … well, they were getting results, but you thought it was a bit harder than tutoring ought to be, mainly thanks to your tutor.

He was the most attractive male you'd ever seen, and being locked in a room with him for hours as he guided you through grammar was akin to torture, by your standards. The language itself wasn't the problem.

“You're doing really well,” he'd encouraged you at the end of the last session, the first praise he'd given without hint of sarcasm, and your skin had flushed so aggressively you ducked your head, mumbled a thanks, and pulled out the work for your next class.

He'd hovered behind you for a few moments before leaving. You hated that you hoped he might stay. He'd just squeezed your shoulder, the touch lingering a few seconds too long, and a tad too high on your neck, to be considered polite, and left, snicking the door shut softly behind him.

The next session was the first time you returned one of his flirty comments, and the look on his face was priceless. The way his eyes danced lit something inside of you, a kind of hope you hadn't felt in months, perhaps even years.

Now, you waited patiently for him in your usual reserved room, books already out and strewn across the table, excited to show him the score on the essay he'd helped you edit. A 92. The highest you'd ever gotten on one. Even the professor shot you a look of approval. He'd encouraged the tutoring after all. If things worked out the way you dared hoping they would, you'd need to thank the man.

“I hope you don't mind,” Rhys's smooth voice came at the same time the door opened behind you, you pivoted in your chair and your stomach dropped. “I've brought my girlfriend with me this time.”

Keep it together, keep it together, you chanted to yourself.

But..girlfriend. You blanched, he’d been flirting with you this entire time, and just now decided to disclose that? Right after you started flirting back? Was he trying to make you feel stupid? As if these sessions weren't enough.

She was gorgeous too, with long blonde hair and blue grey eyes, a picture in herself. Someone deserving of a painting hanging in a museum.

“This is Feyre,” Rhysand introduced you. “Feyre, I've already told her all about you.”

Feyre's eyes lit up as she bent over to hug you where you sat.

“He's been less of an asshole lately, and I think I have you to thank for that,” she winked at you, and squeezed the top of your shoulder.

This must be some kind of sick and humiliating nightmare because your cheeks flushed under her attention, bringing a craving for more of it. It was bad enough you were attracted to your tutor, you didn't need to add his girlfriend into this mix.

“Let's get started,” Rhys clapped his hands, and you pushed your essay across the table, barely hearing his congratulations over the roaring in your ears.

Barely, by a frayed thread, you managed to hold yourself together through the rest of the session. It was torture. This was torture. You'd have to do this again, you knew that as the tears streamed down your face, as soon as the door closed behind you. Go back again, or risk failing the class. Still, as that fragile hope in your chest extinguished, you wondered if it was worth it.

[fourmoony]

fizz pop lolly - James Potter x Fem!Reader

smut, barely any plot. p in v. unprotected sex. language. james is a bit of a perv.

18+ work, minors DNI.

not proof read. 2k words.

...

It’s pervy.

James knows it’s pervy, but he can’t stop himself. You’re not even aware he’s ogling you, gone in your own world that he imagines has fairies, rainbows and butterflies floating around in that pretty little head of yours. He’s sure if anyone caught sight of him staring, they’d catch on immediately, know just how sick and twisted his mind really is because his eyes are dead set on the hemline of your skirt, his mouth open awaiting flies. You’re resting your hands on the table on the far side of the library, supposedly reading a textbook for a source you need for your essay on Care of Magical Creatures, and the way you’re bent over ever so slightly has your skirt rising from its already high placement.

It's sick. It’s downright fucking twisted. You’re so sweet, so innocent, such a pretty soul – for fucks sakes you run study groups and tutor first years in your rare free time – and all James can think about is how he wants to walk up behind you, put his hand between your shoulder blades and push until you’re flat against the table, flat against his dick.

But.

But it would be criminal not to look, right? Not to enjoy the way you pop your hip to the left when your legs obviously get tired of having stood up for so long. He swears he can make out the bottom of your arse cheek and he about chokes on his own bloody saliva. Your legs look so smooth, like he could run his hands up and down them, listen to the quickening of your breath and feel nothing but silk. God, he’s deranged. Guilt swirls in his stomach with lust, a never-ending battle that he shouldn’t be staring – actually, he should probably go over and tell you he’s likely not the only one looking, for your own sake – but that he physically cannot bring himself to stop.

He can’t stop thinking about you, about how you’d feel wrapped around him, soft and pliant under him, the sounds you’d make. He’s hard as a rock, blood rushing from his head to his dick and he finds it’s getting easier and easier to keep looking, guilt free, with the lack of blood up there.

He’s both grateful and ready to raise hell when Sirius appears behind you, returning from his hunt for a book he’d needed for a prank, and blocks you from James’ view. Sirius takes a seat across from James and he groans inwardly. Sirius’ stupid head is blocking your perfect arse from James’ view and that won’t do.  

“How can I see the book if you’re sitting over there?” James tries.

Sirius looks up, brows furrowed, “Uhm, you don’t need to? I’ll just tell you once I find the spell.”

“Yeah, but- Like, I need to- wouldn’t it be better if I checked it? Made sure it was the right spell?” James stutters like an absolute fool, and he wants to bang his fucking head into the desk.

Sirius catches on immediately. James wants to die as his best friend looks around, spotting you behind him. His head whips around at breakneck speed, his eyes wide with mischief. James jumps into action, trying to cover Sirius’ mouth before he makes an announcement that James Potter is a massive fucking pervert in front of the entirety of the Hogwarts Library. Sirius dodges, laughing maniacally, breathless and sputtering and James just panics and shoves the table as hard as he can into Sirius’ stomach and ribs.

He heaves a breath of air, winded, eyes wide and accusatory. Problem solved, James thinks, whilst Sirius is doubled over, head no longer blocking his view. Until he looks up, eyes searching, and finds you sauntering over, brows furrowed. Shit, he thinks, shit, shit, fucking shit.

“What are you two up to, now?” You ask, brow raised and a hint of a smile on your lips.

And oh god, your lips. So full, so soft, so pretty. James feels like he’s the one who’s had a table slammed into his ribs. Sirius still has his head on the desk, groaning and gasping for air. James couldn’t give two shits when you take the seat next to his, give him your full attention, cross one of your legs over the other and sit oh so bloody pretty. Godric, James would like to ruin you.

“Oh, nothing. Just studying.” James tries his best at casual.

You look at the table in front of you with amusement. There’s no study material. Just empty sweetie wrappers, a couple marbles and the one book Sirius needed for a prank. James flushes red. Fuck.

“Hm. Clearly.” You say, eyes twinkling.

You’re so beautiful, James thinks. So fucking pretty.

“Well,” You chirp when James literally can’t think of anything to say, “Next time Sirius is about to out you for staring at my arse, I’d go for a silencing charm over bodily harm.”

With that, you stand and turn, and James is pretty much face to face with said arse. You bend a little, pretending to fix your socks and James thinks he’s going to die. Literally. Die. Like, on the spot. You’re so sweet, so innocent – or so he thought. He’s in over his head. Truly. His brain simply short circuits. You leave, walking away, swinging your hips as you go and James is up and out of his seat, hot on your heels. You feel him at your back, smile to yourself. Sirius holds a finger up to James as he leaves, only to be thwarted on the back of the head by Madam Pince as she passes.

James follows you through the hallways, up staircases, until he realises, you’re headed for the seventh-floor corridor. It’s dark and abandoned and a well-known area for hooking up. His heart rate accelerates. If he’d have known you’d catch him staring and bring him here? He’d have felt less guilty about it and done it way more often.

You stop and turn to face him at the end of the corridor, swallowed by shadows but he can still see the bright shine to your eyes, the wideness of your smile. You’re waiting, playing games and James always wins.

“You were showing off on purpose?” He asks, crowding you against the wall.

You look up, bite your lip and fuck James is pretty much gone already. Your head tilts, hair sprawling over your shoulder, picture of innocence. James knows now that it’s a farse. And he’s determined to break the act, have you begging, pleading, destroyed for and by him. Your hands, dainty and a little cold, reach out for his forearms, pulling him slightly towards you. He smiles, a hint of knowing in his eyes that has your knees buckling.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Jamie.”

James tuts, towering over you. He presses his lips to the side of your neck, inhales your perfume and fuck he’s hard all over again, “You know fine well what you were doing to me.”

You hum, hands running up his arms to rest on his shoulders, sliding around to the nape of his neck and grabbing a fist of his hair. “Maybe.”

James smiles, nips the skin at the nape of your neck. He pushes his weight against you, you sigh in delight. His hands are everywhere, along your waist, the tops of your thighs, your tits. It’s not until he slides his hands up your skirt, desperate to feel the flesh of your arse that he realises you’re not wearing any underwear and he almost comes on sight. His breath is shuddering, mouth pressed against the skin of your neck and dear Godric, he thinks, how could he have ever assumed you were anything other than a dirty, filthy slut?

“I really wanted to take my time,” He huffs, pulling back until he’s centimetres from your lips, “But right now the only thing I can think about is ruining you.”

You nod, a huff of breath like it’s been punched out of your lungs at his words, “Please.”

With that, James kisses you. Hot and heavy and dirty and fuck he’s never been so glad to have been perving on you. You moan when he lifts you up, hands firm on the backs of your thighs, like you weigh nothing and keeps you propped up with his hips against the wall. It’s all consuming, having him everywhere, all around you. His smell, his sound, his tongue searching your mouth, his lips, his teeth, his hands, his dick, pressed so nice against your bare cunt.

He shifts, you squeal, head hitting against the brick wall.

His fingers trace you, teasing, only for a second, before he’s knuckle deep and you’re keening, bucking against him, fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders. James swears he’s in heaven, the way he has you – desperate and soaking fucking wet. All because of him.

“James,” You moan, one hand cupping his neck and cheek, your hooded eyes are looking into his, “Need more. Need you. Please.”

James isn’t going to make you ask twice. Maybe when he has more time. Next time he’s going to take his time. Next time he’s going to be patient, watch you fall apart, make you beg. At least, he hopes there’ll be a next time. He thinks he might die if he never gets to see you like this again. Your head is thrown back, neck exposed, breaths coming in pants as he whips himself out of his trousers. He lines himself up, you keen, and he takes a deep breath before he slams up into you.

You practically scream, clenching around him, legs tightening around his waist. James swears he sees stars. You’re so warm, so tight, and you’re whimpering and bucking against him. He feels hot and heavy and he’s hitting spots you never imagined. The breath punches from your lungs when he sets a fast and hard pace, hands gripping at any skin he can find. He’s moaning into your skin, grunts and profanities and you’re sure that anyone who comes within a mile of the seventh-floor corridor will hear the sinful noises coming from the pair of you.

It’s hot and dizzying and your skin feels like it’s on fire with every thrust that he bullies into you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, so tight…” James is aware he’s just speaking his mind, unfiltered and uncaring. He has no shame, not when he’s slamming into you like it’s his sole purpose on this earth. Maybe it is, he thinks.

You groan, clenching around him, “Jamie, I’m so close.”

“I know, I know, let go, pretty girl.” He coos, reaching between you to rub at the swollen bundle of nerves that’s been crying out for attention.

You spasm, coming on the spot at the stimulation and his words. He’s two seconds behind you, an embarrassingly loud moan escaping him, but he can’t find it in him to care when you’re still whining and bucking against him. You’re both seeing stars, pressed together, still fully clothed, breathless, and floating down.

Realisation sets in, the silence of the corridor is deafening.

Until you laugh.

You giggle maniacally like he’s said the funniest thing in the world and James frowns in confusion. He lets you down, tucks himself back into his pants all whilst you’re still giggling. It’s not until you stop, breathless, and reach up to press a kiss to his lips that he smiles dumbly.

“Took you long enough, Potter.”

James’ head spins. You’re there, standing in front of him, two seconds after being completely ruined, whining, and bucking on him, innocent act completely gone. He’s so dopily happy at the way you’re smiling up at him.

“How long-“

“The time you were staring at me eating a fizz pop lolly.” You answer for him.

This time, James laughs. Six months. You’ve known for six months that he’s been innately obsessed with you.

“Fucks sakes.”

You giggle again and fall into his arms, he pulls you backwards, pliant in his arms as you laugh and stumble all the way along the hallway.

[isimarie2]

i think i got a little carried away

Chloe and Red go together to school for months

Chloe and Red begin to fall in love over time they go

Chloe is extremly closeted but someday when Red and Chloe are in an intensive staring contest Chloe breaks

She kisses Red and Red kisses back after a moment

Chloe tells Red that she is in love with her but she cant be and tells Red that they cant be together at the Moment

Red is hurt but tells her that shes wiling to wait for her "ill wait for you because im in love with you princess and thats why i wait till youre ready"

Chloe only stares at Red and turns away and runs because everything overwhelms her at that moment

She always had the dream of her perfect fairytail Story were she finds her prince but why is she so stupid and falls in love with a girl

She cries her self to slep this night and dosent notice that Red didnt came back

After two months the Sommer break arived and they go theire separate ways

Chloe goes back home and has panic atacks because she cant accepts that shes in love with Red and is scared that her family thinks that shes a freak

Red writes her to meet her at the enchanted Lake to talk and Chloe becomes a panic attack and her brother comes in and sees what happens and comforts Chloe

They talk and he finds out about the felings she has for Red she thinks hes gona be mad but he just sayes "i love you for who you are sis and it dosent mater who you love"

She tells him that Red wants to talk with her by the Lake and he tells her that she schould go and talk to her and that he will cover for her

so Chloe goes to the Lake they Fight and Red runs away with a broken heart (redssgirll Story is the perfect explaination what happened there)

After that night they didnt talk and when Chloe goes back to school she sees that Red is not there and just thinks that she will come later in the evening

but after a month of Red not returning to school she panics she calls Bridget if she knows were Red is but she only thought that Red was with her over the Sommer break and now in school

(Red wrote a Letter to the Principal and stated that she cant atend school at the Moment and faked her mothers signature)

Chloe hangs up and calls her brother and they both decide to search for Red

Bridget cals Ella and ask her what happened betwenn them and Ella dosent know so she orders Chloe to talk and they find out that Chloe is in love with Red because it sliped her out while rambling and because shes stressed as f

she panics but her parents are suportive about it

and then they locate Red with a spell

Ending 1 Happy

Chloe finds Red and tells her how much she loves her and that shes ready to try Red for the begining is realy hurt and tels her that she need time but after a month they come together and live happylie ever after.

Ending 2 sad but it turns out good

They find Red in an abandoned vacation house and there they find her laying in the bathroom pale and she's is barely conscious

Red cut her self and tried to kill her self and when Chloe sees her she panics "RED"

Red looks at her shocked to see her there "princess?" she asks weakly

"Yes its me youre princess Red" Chloe awnsers

Red only looks at her and sayes "Im tired princess" and closes her eyes

"No no no Red stay awake pls i dont wana lose you pls" Chloe says panicked

Red does not Respond and Chloe panics further

"R-red Red RED WAKE UP NO NO PLS DONT DIE"

Red gets brought to a hospital and she's in a coma for a long time when she wakes up she sees Chloe sleping on the hospital chair directly next to her bed

After a while Chloe wakes up and sees Red staring at her and she only looks at her and begins to cry " i thought you would die there" she sayes crying

"As would you care Chloe" Red awnsers mad at her

Chloe flinches and tells her what she came to conclusion with and that she realy loves her and that she will do anything to make it up to her she holds a whole essay about it and Red Interupts her

"Princess stop i still love you even if i tried not to it would not work i will always love you"

And Chloe cryes again and they talk everything out and come together and have theyre happy ever after.

Ending 3 Sad

Chloe finds Red but its to late she lais on the floor and dosent move and when Chloe gets chloser she sees that she dosent breath

first she thinks Red is just sleping but then she registers the huge blood pool around her and then the huge cuts on both arms

She crumbles and begins to scream and cry and then she gets caried out of there

Shes depressiv for a long while and on the dying day from Red she takes her own live because she cant live with out her anymore

And she gets buried next to Reds grave

maibe they see each other again in the after live or the next.

@redssgirll

The Story that got me inspired:

Short Version from when i planed what i write

I have the feling that the short planig is better than what i wrote

[irana5711]

small idea about college student reader who's pissed off at how easily scaramouche/wanderer got into the akademiya (yes it is going to be x reader if I get around to finishing it). !! warning I haven't played genshin in a really long time, can't remember like half of the lore but it's fine, it's hatguy!!

Getting to study in the Akademiya is no easy feat, that's for sure. Years of hard work and straining your eyes trying to study at night, day after day of trying to understand the intricacies of history and political problems across the years, of trying to remember dates and names and whatnot. All of that, just for HIM to get in so easily. No exam? Not even an essay? NOTHING?!

You resented him. You were not afraid to show it, either. Always giving him a stink eye when he got late to his lectures. Pointing out even the smallest mistakes in his paper every time you got the chance (sometimes even making it up just to piss him off). And he did the same. You just couldn't wrap your head around it - how did he do it? Why was he even there, given the fact that he always acted as if it was the worst place in Teyvat? His smirk and his snarky, foul comments made your stomach turn. So, in an attempt to make you cooperate and stop going for each other's throats, Nahida paired you up for a project. Quite simple, really: talk about the reign of Decarabian and speculate what he could have done to protect his title. I mean, it WOULD have been simple if it weren't for your adorable little classmate. Hatguy wouldn't have anything from you. He never liked anything you wrote, and for such petty reasons as well: 'Your writing is unintelligible. Who do you think is going to understand this? It looks like an ancient dialect.' or 'The paper you used for this is too brittle. I could ruin it just by staring at it for too long. Are you stupid?' Or that one time you served him freshly baked cookies, and he spat one right out! How rude!

Neither of you had time to dwell on those issues much longer, though, as the deadline was approaching quickly. Just three days left, and you barely wrote a two page sketch. Out of desperation, you decided to take the advice of your friends: a glass of firewater, and you'll get going in no time! Except, you got carried away, and by 2 in the afternoon, you were dizzy and disoriented. But you did (somehow) get a decent amount of work done. Good job! You were delighted as you put the half empty bottle back on the shelf, behind some bowls and cups, yet it all ended when you heard an angry knock on the door. You weren't expecting any guests, so who...?

[instant-delusions]

wind hashira || shinazugawa sanemi x f! reader

cw: sanemi 💀, steamy, curse words, alcohol

a/n: watched a 7h kny essay & I need more

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ attaboy ◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

slamming down your ochoko, you swallowed the rest of the disgustingly bitter sake. "another round!" shouted mitsuri, waving her hand in front of the bartender, who looked absolutely worn out. feeling your mind drifting slightly, you barely made out obanai's worried voice, telling her to slow down.

the hashira (except muichiro and shinobu) go out drinking often - which is a coping mechanism you don't know how to feel about - but you're glad mitsuri drags you along to these get-togethers, although you're a lower rank. luckily, you get along with the hashira well. all of them are booming personalities, each one much different than the other - you appreciate the different perspectives and worldviews, despite them ending in bickering most of the time.

"I've got an idea!" rengoku shouts excitedly, "let's play a game." a mischievous smile forms on his face. "fuck that" the wind hashira retorts, starting to get up. "dont be a buzzkill, sanemi!" you push him down again, hands gripping his shoulders. nervously, he glanced back at you, mouth opening as to respond in some way. he'll never, ever admit it, but he's had a crush on you for months now. not that he has to, really, it's obvious to everyone but you. sanemi's always been confident in his abilities to hide his feelings, although most of the time he's very easy to read. plumbing down next to him, you start filling his and your ochoko with sake, to which he grumbles a "thank you", not even looking your way.

unbeknownst to you two, the other hashira are done with the way you dance around each other and schemed a plan, feeling obligated to give a little push. "okay!" tengen started, "how about...hmmm...dare or dare." "the fuck ist that ?" sanemi questions, "you know..." giyuu starts nonchalantly, "like truth or dare, without the truth." both of them exchange fuming eye contact for some reason. "you think I'm stupid, bastard?" sanemi's clenching his fist, trying to get up, but obanai wraps his hand around the pillar's arm, pulling him down aggressively, whispering something about him 'looking like a fucking anger-management needing dumbass'.

it's sanemi's turn. until now, everything's been pretty tame, gyomei ate two spoons of wasabi, tengen asked the bartender "how much for a blowjob?" and giyuu wrote shinobu a letter, containing the word 'penis'. giggling and whispering, the hashira brainstormed a dare for sanemi. "so." tengen clapped his hands. "see that closet?" tengen pointed at the shoji on the other side of the room they rented. "enjoy twelve minutes in there with (y/n)."

sanemi and you turned beet-red, you proceeded to wave your fist in the air saying that you got nothing to do with this and sanemi just started spewing creative curses, but all in vain. gyomei picked both of you up and threw you into the closet, closing the shoji. muffled laughs was all you could hear, until your attention was drawn to the body pressed against yours and the minimal space of the closet. position-wise, this was definitely compromising, sanemi's legs were spread and you laid between them, your head on his chest. his body's so warm, his middle pressed against your chest, breath fanning over your hair, legs trembling. you're definitely dizzy now, the alcohol and proximity getting to you, with the magic of liquid courage, you pushed yourself up, lips barely brushing against each other.

"fuck..." sanemi whispered, you could feel the way his lips formed the word. he brushed his fingers through your hair in a gentle manner, curling it around one. eyes locking with yours, he continued; "I've wanted this...you...for so long. I could thank those idiots." his lips pressed against yours and you didn't waste time, immediately throwing your hands around his neck, bringing him closer. sanemi exhaled against your lips, "me too." you responded, diving into another kiss, nibbling at his bottom lip, asking for permission. he opened his mouth and you started exploring with your tongue, while the pillar let his hands travel across your body, groping your waist, trailing up your shirt. "wait..." changing the position, you put each of your legs next to his hips, straddling him. when you were done, he quickly cupped your cheeks and brought you down for another kiss. giggling, you pecked the corner of his lips, "you're quite needy, huh?" you teased, kissing his jaw next.

"shut up, twelve minutes are not gonna be enough."

[draculasfavoritewife]

I'd Give Up My Spot In Heaven (For A Moment In Hell With You)

Summary: Being the Devil's partner is more difficult some nights than others, and no one makes it harder on the both of you than Lucifer himself.

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief depictions of smoking and alcohol use, themes of depression and self-hatred, guilt; discussions of death (but a good ending, never fear). And of course implied smut because this beautiful man has me constantly thinking some very unholy things.

If I had to choose one single TV show that changed my life and has so powerfully influenced my recent adulthood, it would definitely be the Lucifer Netflix series. I could write semesters' worth of essays on just how beautifully crafted the character is and what a stunning actor Tom Ellis is. Someday I really need to write more fic for him because truly, in my opinion Lucifer is one of THE Characters of All Time and I'm so utterly in love with him it makes me look stupid.

*I wrote this with the thought that it takes place sometime during the events of Season 2, definitely before the return of his wings

The flutter of uncharacteristically cold silk sheets brushing across your flesh wakes you with a silent gasp. Frowning, you grope blindly in the darkness, reaching out in vain for your usual heat source but grasping only more folds of empty, luxurious fabric.

You’re alone.

And the bed feels suddenly far too vast and lonesome for one body to occupy. 

After a few heartbeats of mildly distressed thrashing about, you finally open your eyes and sit up, pulling the unmoored sheets up around your bare chest and searching for him in the dark. The penthouse is quiet, full of shadows draping languorously across the furniture and expensive art, hiding the familiar contours of his elegant bedroom from view. 

He’s not there. 

He’s left you alone in his bed, something he really only does when his mind is torturing him too much, so he resorts back to his oldest tried-and-true method of dealing with pain — avoidance. 

Which means he’s in pain out there somewhere. Your beloved fallen angel is afflicted with some hurt that strikes too deep for him to rest tonight.

And you don’t want him to remain like that until morning. 

With a sigh, you rise from the empty bed and shrug into the button-up shirt he tossed onto the night table only several hours before. Though he often offers the whites to you, you always prefer the black ones instead, these garments that seductively wrap your form like soft night shadows, the scent of his cologne heavily amplified without a light to distract your other senses. Your bare feet make hardly any sound on the cool floor as you stumble your way into the main living area, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim. 

There he is. 

He hasn’t gone far, sitting slouched forward at the piano, a nearly empty whiskey tumbler within easy reach and soft smoke curling upward from the lit cigarette held between his long fingers. By the array of still-glowing stumps littering the nearby ashtray, it’s not his first one of the night, either. He only chain-smokes when he’s really worked up, so you approach him cautiously, halting a couple of feet from his left side.

His endless dark eyes are focused impossibly far away, haunted and cold, and they don’t so much as even flicker in your direction as you hover there, uncertain of how to catch his attention. 

“Go back to bed, Darling. I’ll be along eventually.” 

His voice is as smooth and lovely as ever, but the detached undertone running like bitter poison beneath sends a tiny shiver up the back of your neck. 

“What’s wrong, Love?” 

He doesn’t reply, and you would almost wonder if he didn’t hear you at all, save for the agitated clenching and unclenching of his chiseled jaw. Restless fingers tap a dusting of ash from the end of the cigarette, shoving it back between full lips for another irritated drag of smoke into his immortal lungs. 

He did hear.

So you choose to wait, settling on the end of the piano bench beside him, though not quite close enough to touch. 

Smoke jets from his nostrils, its acrid scent burning the back of your throat. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Just up for an impromptu nightcap, Sweetheart.” He immediately contradicts his casual claim by abruptly tossing back the rest of his whiskey and rising for a refill. You watch his silhouette as he looms over his private bar to replenish his drink.

Even when all of the details are hidden, he’s still utterly captivating, the sleek planes of his toned body sharply outlined by the faint light bleeding from the windows. 

“You don’t drink like that for a nightcap.” You absently brush your fingertips across a simple chord on the piano keys. “You can talk to me, about whatever’s on your mind. You know that.” 

“Did I ASK you to play the part of my therapist?” his dark shape snarls, another billow of nicotine smoke accentuating his sudden anger. 

You turn so you’re facing him, though you still can’t make out his face.

He feels safer that way, hidden in the dark. 

The Devil may be an excellent actor, but those damned beautiful eyes have always given him away to you, and he has the nasty suspicion they’re a bit too glossy at the moment for his comfort. 

You sigh softly. “Don’t think of it that way, then. I’m not here to analyze and dissect you. But you haven’t been sleeping well lately.” You hold up your hands to stall the protest you know is coming. “And I know you probably don’t need it the same way I do. But you hold everything in, and you bury it so deep, Lucifer. There will only ever be more and more piling on top if you don’t let it out sometime.” 

He huffs, a harsh burst of scornful laughter. Drawing closer again, he towers over you, tall and forbidding, eyes briefly flashing crimson through the shadows cast across his face.

“And just how do you suggest I go about that, hmm? I don’t exactly have my trust in others positively reinforced that often.” 

You’re very well aware of his profound trust issues, but that one hurts. “That's not fair, Lucifer. When have I ever given you reason to doubt me? When have I ever done anything except stand by you?” 

“You haven’t! But that’s the lovely part about you humans, isn’t it? I can watch and listen and taste and think I’ve figured out exactly how you work, and then every single time, something extraordinary happens and I realize I’ve predicted wrong again! There’s no rhyme or reason to you!” He tears away from you, pacing and agitated. “And bloody Hell, I’m TIRED of finally letting down my walls for you people only to be trampled upon again and again.” 

No knife blade could cut quite so deep and sharp, and for a moment, you’re left completely speechless at the implication that you would ever betray him. But you heard the way his voice broke at the peak of his rant, the shuddering sound of his ragged breaths, so for the moment you swallow your own hurt and focus on his.

He needs you right now, whether he recognizes it or not. 

“Okay. You're right. We have been — we still are — so very unfair to you, Love. I know that. I’m sorry you’re still seen as the villain; I’m so sorry for all of it. And I know your own family only continues to betray your trust as well. I am —” you clear your throat, your own voice wavering slightly now. “— I am sorry you never had anyone truly on your side, Lucifer. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” 

His frenzied pacing stops; he approaches you again, footsteps suddenly tentative. “Why do they all do it?”

You’re not sure you’ve ever heard his voice so soft, so uncertain.

“Why, after all of the chances I give them, does everyone still think it’s such a grand time to undermine and manipulate me whenever they get the chance?” 

You stand, and ever so slowly bring your hands up to cradle his handsome, angular face. “They all have their own reasons, my Darling. Please….” 

You’re not quite sure what you’re pleading him for, but the utter despair overflowing from those fathomless eyes twists your heart even harder than his outburst from before. 

“It isn’t you,” you whisper fiercely, recognizing the all-too-familiar desolation of his intense self-hatred surfacing. “Luce, Angel, it’s never been you. I promise.” 

“Why can’t I make anyone happy?” he asks in a broken whisper. He’s letting you closer; you can feel his smoky breath ruffling your sleep-tossed hair, and the heat rising from his bare torso in front of you.

Your hands hesitantly drift from his face, caressing the smooth expanse of his chest before trailing around to his back. He flinches, a minuscule twitch as your fingertips gently find their way to catch in the wide, roughened furrows there — the enormous crescent scars that are all that remain of his beautiful wings. 

You order your thoughts, taking a breath to let your own inner tumult dissipate, and inhale the scent of him, that blend of too-expensive cologne edged with just enough of the whiskey and smoke to be enthralling and not overpowering. It reminds you once more, in this moment, of just how deeply you love this tortured angel, your King without a crown, and how you chose to do so even knowing there would be nights like this, times when he tried to push you away. 

He deserves to have someone on his side no matter what, even when he’s difficult. 

“You make me happy.” 

His mouth opens, no doubt to argue that, but you press on before he can speak. “Do you remember the night you finally took the chance and showed me your devil face?” 

He nods, reluctant and suspicious. 

“Do you remember what I did?” 

His eyes narrow and he tilts his head to one side, thinking. “I remember…what you didn’t do. You didn’t scream. Or try to run away, or just sit there staring at me like you were going to explode. You were…startled, of course, but you…accepted it?” 

“I did. I do. Do you know why?” 

He shakes his head mutely, those eyes wide and glimmering with interest now as he stares back into yours, searching for the answer. 

“Because it’s you. Devil, angel, man, monster, whatever you want to call yourself — none of that matters to me, because all of it is just names, decorations over the Lucifer I fell in love with. And that…being…cares — so deeply — about people, even though he claims he doesn’t. He sacrifices so much for others, even as he calls himself selfish. And —” you gently shush him so you can finish before he tries to deflect, “— the way others treat him does hurt him, though he puts up a good act. I know that’s why he tries to push away the people who love him. I understand.” 

A barely perceptible shudder runs through his skin, and he looks away from you for a moment. He’s still not always used to anyone but Dr. Martin being able to read him that well, but he’s relieved that you can. Anyone else in this close of a relationship with him would have probably thrown in the towel long before now. 

After a moment, powerful arms pull you in tight to his body, solidly encircling your form. His breathing slows; the comforting sensation of his agile hands stroking your back brings a smile to your lips. 

“Now, what else is wrong?” you whisper. 

A long sigh rocks you against his chest. “I saw their faces in my dreams again. Relived their pain…. I’m left wondering again if there wasn’t anything I could have done to — well. I suppose I’m saying I still feel responsible.” 

You let your eyes flutter shut against him, soothingly massaging his scars and feeling the tense muscles in his back let go one by one.

“Who, Luce?” 

He swallows hard above your head, allowing himself a moment to compose his voice before speaking their names aloud. “Delilah. Jana. Father Frank.” 

People who once meant something to him, people who died violent deaths that he wishes he could have protected somehow.

Or had maybe never met in the first place.

His fingertips dig into your skin through his shirt, and you know exactly where his tormented mind is going, the fear that everyone he cares about will end up hurt or dead eventually. 

He can’t have that happen to you. 

“They all made their own choices, Love. Delilah and Jana were attached to their lifestyles and knew it might catch up with them or go wrong someday. Father Frank loved so fiercely he would have chosen the same fate for himself a hundred times over. I know it’s…difficult, for you — for any of your family — to comprehend, but we 'insignificant humans' do have things in this life we are willing to take risks for. Even die for.” You huff a quiet laugh, burying yourself even further in the warmth of his skin. 

“What would you die for?” 

The honest, blunt question takes you by surprise. There’s none of his usual banter or teasing preceding it. When you pull back to meet his eyes, you see the look of earnest interest on his face, his dark brows drawn together with the force of his desire to understand. 

It’s not a difficult answer. 

“You, Lucifer. What we have. That’s what I would die for.” 

His gaze feels like it’s piercing all the way into the most vulnerable parts of your soul, searching for any sign of why you would do so. 

Then his focus suddenly flits away again; for a heartbeat, pain settles into the lines of his face before it clears as quickly as it appeared. 

“I was thinking about Uriel, too.” 

It feels like there’s suddenly no air in your lungs. He hasn’t really brought up what happened with his younger brother to you except in passing. You know how much that whole situation wrecked him, but though you ached to let him know he could talk to you about it, you also knew it hurt far too much, so you merely supported him silently through his despair-fueled run of alcohol, drugs, and raging parties, hoping that one day he would realize he could trust you with the full weight of it. 

Perhaps he finally has. 

“I was thinking about him, and how I — I killed my brother, Darling. I took the Blade of Azrael and plunged it right into him without a second thought. What kind of —” he takes a choppy breath, swallows again; when he continues, his voice is barely more than a whisper.

“What kind of monster does that make me, Love?” 

You ponder your reply as your fingers travel up to his face once more, feeling the well-loved scratch of his perpetually perfect five-o-clock shadow as you caress his jaw.

He leans ever so slightly into your touch as he waits for your next words, somewhat reassured by the intimate contact that they won’t be damning. 

“Uriel would have killed the detective. And he would have killed your mother.” Your own voice is firm, certain in your assessment. “You looked out for your own. You gave him so many chances to back off, and he didn’t. In a way, even Uriel made his own choice in the end.” You gaze back up into his eyes, noting how vulnerable he looks here in this moment through the shining veil of tears that even now refuse to fall.

“Don’t blame yourself for your brother’s death anymore, Lucifer.” 

“But I’d never taken a life before.” His lips press together into a hard line, their sweeping curves disappearing momentarily into grief. “And to have my first be him?” 

“I know.” You push yourself into him again, trailing soft kisses across his collarbone. “And I’ll never know what you’re going through. But I’m here. I’m always here. And we can talk all about it whenever you need. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” 

You can’t quite tell if he’s crying or not as he fiercely folds you into his grasp, as close as the two of you can possibly hold each other. But you stay like that for a very long time, swaying gently back and forth, no sound audible save for the breaths and beating hearts of the Devil and his human lover. 

Eventually, he is the one to pull away, retreating back to the bar and picking up his drink from where he set it down before. His cigarette has long since gone out, but he makes no move to light another. You can tell by the loose set of his shoulders that his self-inflicted torture is easing for now, and as it passes, your own body wearily reminds you of how late — or early? — it is, and that it would much rather be in bed. 

“Go back to bed, Darling.” There’s real warmth in Lucifer’s voice now as he repeats his words from before.

“I’ll be along eventually.” 

So you do, still wearing his shirt, and drift in and out of lonely dreams until the mattress finally dips beside you, heralding his along-waited arrival. 

“Still awake?” He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “My scintillating company has ruined you for ever sleeping alone again, hasn’t it?” 

“Maybe.” You roll onto your back to smile up into his face. “The bed’s so cold without you.” 

He smirks, runs a teasing finger down from your lips right up to where you left the top couple buttons of the shirt strategically undone. “Well. I was a bit of an ass to you earlier, Love, and I do want to make it up to you. So.” He leans in close, that familiar look of utterly seductive, wicked mischief crossing his face.

“Tell me, what is it you want from me right now? What is that sinful, naughty little desire of yours that’s just waiting so patiently on the tip of your tongue? Go on, Sweetheart, don’t be shy.” 

“Lucifer!” You glare up into his expectant, dancing eyes as you struggle to resist his persuasion. “I’m not going to say it out loud.” 

“Oh, so it’s REALLY awful then!” He sounds shamelessly delighted as he traps you in place so you can’t possibly elude the inevitable revelation of what’s on your mind. “And how should I punish my favorite little sinner, for thinking such deliciously dirty things?” 

Unable to hold on to your resolve any longer, you pull him down over you so that you can feverishly unload your demented fantasies into his waiting ear. 

“Well, well, well.” A low chuckle vibrates deep in his chest as he kisses you, scorchingly slow. “How DO you manage to go about your day-to-day life as a seemingly normal human when your innermost thoughts are so sordid, Darling? Tell me, is it terribly difficult keeping your wicked side under wraps during daylight hours?” 

You sigh in pleasure as his mouth moves to your throat and his talented fingers start to smoothly undo the buttons of the shirt. “Only when you’re around.” 

“Is that so?” He rests his forehead against yours, a hand sweeping under the curve of your back and lifting your body up to meet his. “They do call me the tempter, I suppose. Ah, Darling, you can bet I’m going to do my very damndest to break that flawless self-restraint of yours in public one of these days. Whatever do you think people would say if that were to happen?” 

“Just shut up and punish me already,” you murmur, shivering as your skin is exposed to the chill air once more. “You’ve tortured me for long enough.” 

“Really.” He grins devilishly, sharp eyes glowing like hot embers in the dim.

“I do believe I haven’t even started.” 

[iratempestatis]

Pretty.

Kaeya x gn!reader

Just a bunch of fluff, reader is bad at showing their emotions and Kaeya's just shooting his shot lmao. Apologies for being too specific at times, I wrote this with someone in mind <3

Throwing food at pedestrians was generally frowned upon, whether you were a normal citizen or the esteemed captain of the Knights of Favonius. You're fairly certain your captain is aware of this, and yet-

You whip your head around and glare at Kaeya as another sunsettia makes an elegant arc and bounces off your shoulder, onto the ground. What was wrong with this man? Why was he wasting food like this?

Your captain had very thin hair already, curving over his shoulder like a rat’s tail. He didn't need to give you incentive to rip it all off. You're sure it would fall off on it's own by the time he was forty. You’re certain he'd still look as lovely as he did now.

But enough of that! He wasted food!

“Captain!”

“So sorry.” He grins and bites into a sunsettia. The bright morning sky brings out the cool blue tones in his eyes. He's pretty. “Please don't scold me, now.”

You only curse and turned away. It was impossible to remain angry with Kaeya Alberich for too long.

✦—————————————✦

You used to think you were quite clever.

But honestly, only a fool would graduate from the Akademiya with honours and end up working as a cavalry knight in a city full of drunkards (imagine being in love with one, the horror! It could never be you), far away from home, devoid of any fresh spices save for some fucking snapdragon. And the cost of shipping actual spices? Veritable insanity! 450 Mora for just shipping the stuff you could buy for 120 back home?

And only an even bigger fool wouldn't check if the cavalry had any horses before signing up. Because it's stupid to expect the cavalry to own a horse or two, yes?

It never seemed to bother anyone but you. These madlads managed life without sumpter beasts and Tri-Lakshana Sigils.

Mondstadt City didn't even have any slopes, just stairs! What if someone used a wheelchair? What if someone was too goddamn lazy to climb up all those stairs??

You'd bitched about the infrastructure nonstop at first. Kaeya had only laughed. He had a pretty laugh. Everything he did was pretty. He was pretty.

You could feel your friends rolling their eyes at you.

You were often tempted to take their advice and confess your feelings to him. How embarrassing, to not leave a city purely because he occupied it? To smile because he smiled and grin because he looked content? You didn't even like skewers until he threw some at you. They tasted as zesty as he looked.

But confessing to your boss? Unprofessional. You weren't a coward, you were just married to your job! (A rather toxic relationship. You barely spent any time together.) Besides, imagine getting rejected. It could never be you. That would be almost as terrible as crying in front of everyone as an Akademiya professor tore your essay to shreds. In your first year. (Maybe Alhaitham was right and you really did need therapy.)

Speaking of your job, however-

“Captain, I'm going to Springvale. Old Finch-”

“Surely you don't mean to walk there.” His eyes widen in mock horror. “We don't even have any Tri-Lakshana Sigils!”

You roll your eyes. “Old Finch told me-”

“Finch? Who would name their only child Finch of all things? At least there are slopes in Springvale-”

You groan.

✦—————————————✦

Of course you didn't fucking walk to Springvale like a plebian. You begged Nantuck to row you there. Kaeya tagged along as well, but you didn't question why. You were one flirtatious answer from giving your crush away. Or one pretty, pretty smile. Or even just one Kaeya elegantly stepping out of the boat and holding out a hand to you.

“I'm good,” you mutter as you step off on your own. Kaeya chuckles.

“My, someone's in an especially terrible mood today. Did someone anger you? When are you telling me what you're here for on your day off, anyway?”

The audacity of this bitc-

“I tried,“ You scoff. “Someone kept interrupting me-”

“How uncouth of them.”

“You piece of-” you hurriedly bite back the insult. “I'm here because Old F- someone told me there's a group of whopperflowers on the cliffs behind the spring. I'll deal with them and meet up with you… where?”

“So eager to meet up with me, even on our days off,” he muses as you rolled your eyes. (Wasn't he the one who started harassing you? No matter. Any time spent with Kaeya was time well spent, in your opinion.) “Very well, then. I'll be at Brooke’s. It's a date.”

Your face flushes. What the fuck? “Don't wander off.” You sigh, hoping you don't look like you're on fire. I need to get out of here.

“That's all you'll say to me? Hey, at least say goodbye as you run off!”

✦—————————————✦

Goodbye, you think as you plummet off a cliff and to your death (you hope.) The whopperflowers had been endless and honestly you'd rather fight a Regisvine than a dozen of these overgrown mist flowers together on a goddamn cliff. You could see the light (probably the sun.) You could feel Alhaitham chuck your clown wig and clown nose at you (in spirit, of course, although him actually doing that wouldn't really surprise you.)

You could also feel your body jolt as the cold waters of the spring abruptly shock your system. You're not conscious enough to feel yourself sink, though.

✦—————————————✦

Were you to die, you wanted death to cradle you close, carry you off and gently lay you to rest on the sands or the grass, whichever you were in the mood for that day. And you didn't want it to be fucking bony and jostle you as it carried you, no matter how nice it smelled. You also didn't want it to be so goddamn damp, and the least it could do is magically stop your head from hurting, maybe hand you a towel and some warm soup-

“There you go,” you hear Kaeya softly murmur as he sets you down on some grass. You can hear Finch and Hopkins frantically calling for help. Warm hands securely wrap a blanket around you and start gently drying your hair.

I won't be able to go on that date, you think deliriously. The ensuing embarrassment is enough to make your eyes snap open.

You're on the grassy banks of the spring, wet and rather cold. Brooke is rubbing your arms through the blanket and- you crane your neck to see Kaeya gently drying your hair. He smiles when he sees you turn. He smiles very often. You wonder if this is one of those rare times when it's genuine.

“You never fail to surprise me,” he says fondly as he lets go of the towel and ruffles your hair. “Forever reaching for new heights of stupidity. What idiot runs off to kill a dozen cryo whopperflowers with a cryo vision?”

This bitch.

“I didn't know they were cryo,” you rasp. “Asshole.”

“Is this how you speak to your superiors?”

“You're not exactly supposed to ask your underlings on dates either.” Shit.

He grins at that (you should never have acknowledged the date, now he'd make you commit) and heaves an exaggerated sigh as he begins combing through your hair with his fingers. His nails gently scratch against your scalp. “Very well, dearest. No dates.”

Your dismay apparently shows on your face, because his grin only widens with delight. “Alright, one date, because you're pretty. And not today.”

Your face flushes. “It's not like I want one, anyway.” What do you mean, not today?

He shrugs. “Then you're welcome to walk away from rather delectable free meal. Brooke promised she'd give us only her best.”

As if you needed any additional motivation. “Fine, then. Only for the food.” When? The food sounded almost as good as Kaeya. “So. Er.” You cough. “When exactly are we…when are you taking me on that-?”

Kaeya laughs (asshole, you think affectionately) as you trail off with a flushed face. “Hey, since you're not so opposed to the idea,” he says “maybe you can stand me after all.”

Oh, Kaeya. Your face softens. “I've never disliked you, captain.” You have no need for insecurities. I know what you almost did to Collei. I know you have a complicated past.

I wish you'd tell me about it. Maybe one day you'd muster the courage to ask.

“Oh?” He tilts his head. A bead of water trickles off his hair, on his nose, then past his cheek. It catches on his jaw. You fight the urge to wipe it off. “So does this mean you like me, then?”

You blink rapidly, then turn away. “That's for you to find out.”

He smiles at you then, just a small smile. The sort of smile he gives stray cats when he thinks nobody is looking. The sort of smile he gives Klee when she shows him a drawing she made of them together. The sort of smile he gives Jean as he helps her home after a long day. Or the sort of smile he gives Lisa when she gently pats his shoulder and tells him to take care before she heads home.

“Like I said though, not today.” He boops your nose and stands up, holding out a hand to you. You take it this time. He doesn't let go even as you start to walk back towards Nantuck’s boat, and your heart joyously skips a few beats. You hope he can't feel your pulse through your intertwined fingers.

“You need to rest, and archons forbid you catch a cold. It's no fun without you around. I almost miss you, even. How about we reschedule that date for next Saturday, hm?”

[iamyoursonly]

3AM (29/03/2024)

wrote this at 3am because i had a dream of him and i needed some hallucinations desperately <3 sorry for not posting for so long though, i had so many tests i could barely breathe :(

Late nights but no movie night, I’m just overworking myself, as I sit at the same spot for the 27th hour.

My tired eyes drag across the computer screen, lazy fingers typing the last few words with my keyboard to complete my long due essay. Headphones listening to pop music to keep my mind awake, well the unhealthy amount of caffeine also helped with that.

I take some freshly washed grapes that I previously prepared for myself and put one in my mouth, slowly chewing and getting a taste of how sweet the grapes are. Suddenly, my mind wanders to think of how it would feel like if there was someone to feed me grapes when I’m doing work.

I slap my face and take another sip of my coffee when my mind tries to wander away and think about that ‘homeless romantic’ crap again. I could’ve been doing that if my immature self didn’t choose to become a become a doctor. I just sigh and continue the essay.

Until I couldn’t, and I passed out on the table.

“My love? Are you alright?” A man whispered into my ear, his voice was so hot and addictive though. Complaining would be the last thing I would do honestly. But I had to get up and check who it was.

I open my eyes, slowly getting used to the light at my desk again, only to find the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my whole entire life. He was gorgeous as a greek god that only Zeus had crafted himself. His features as sharp as a knife, and he looked divine.

“Am I hallucinating?” I mumbled, and as if I said it out loud, the man whispered again. “No you’re not, sweetheart.”

Well I better be in heaven for working my butt off completing that stupid essay. Seeing that I’m face to face with this beautiful man, I’m 100% sure I spawned into the correct place after I died. So this is the after life, it’s not even half bad to be honest. Like just look at him, he must be my guardian angel that is on his way to guide me to the staircase to heaven. The staircase will definitely be as gorgeous as his eyes…

“Hello? Darling? Are you still with me?” He says again, and I leaned closer to admire his features. I whisper a soft “Yes, I am.” As I focus on his ocean blue eyes, and before I knew it, I was drowning in that ocean his eyes held. His eyes was blue like a beautiful sunny day, it was that shade of blue that everyone liked, and I couldn’t help but admiring them a little bit too much too.

“Earth to y/n?” He tries yet again, but this time I could just focus on how snowy white his hair was, it was as white as the whitest paint ever made, and it looked so beautiful and silky I couldn’t even describe how much I wanted to run my fingers through his hair.

As if he could read my mind, he grabbed my face and closed the distance between the two of us, and our faces were so close I could feel his breath… He can touch me! And I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I wasn’t. “Sir…?” I choked out, with his face so close to mine, I could barely control my pacing heartbeat, let alone my flushed expression. I could just stare into those captivating eyes of his and think about how beautiful he is… Honestly, even the most beautiful words cannot describe how spectacular he looks.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, and with us this close, I’m definitely not okay.

“May I ask who you are and why you’re here?” I ask, trying to put up a strong face, trying not to show my weak side.

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he replies swiftly, without hesitation, “And I may come from the future but don’t freak out please. I’ll explain.”

I just look at him, not knowing how to react as my mind had suddenly gone blank from this shocking news. “Time travelling? That’s possible?”

He chuckled as if he knew how I would react, “How old are you, darling?”

“I’m 14.” I tell him, a bit curious about what he will tell me next. “I’m 29.” He tells me, “It’s 2024 right now, right? I was 16 during that time.”

It took quite a long moment of silence for me to process this new idea of time travelling that I never thought would happen in the near future. I just look at him and his smile as he moved away from me. The amount of questions I had started flooding my mind, I had to resist the urge to ask him all at once.

“So you’re in the year 2036?” I ask him, and I got my answer in a second.

“Actually 2037, it’s March right now, right? Well, I was born in December.” He said, with a smile.

“Why are you telling me all this? What do you want from me?” I started blurting out the questions I had in my mind for a while. And he just looked at me. “I just wanted to see if you met me yet, by that I meant my 16 year old self.”

“Huh?” I started to get confused, “What do you mean by that?”

“We’re dating, darling. In the future, and we’re engaged just last month in 2027.” He smiles, looking so happy I could almost know what to anticipate for the future, “You’re definitely the best thing that happened to me, I could see why I chose you as my wife.” I sat there in shock, not knowing the right words to say, but I felt a hot rush of heat on my face, I must’ve been blushing so hard when I heard him say that we will be engaged… I mean engaged with that man? What luck did I have to be able to pull him?!

“When will we start dating, may I ask?” I manage to choke out, and he laughs, making my face blush an even redder tone. Then he puts a finger up to his lips, as if telling me that it’s a secret, “Wait and see, it won’t be fun if I just spoil all the fun.”

His watch suddenly starts beeping really loudly, as if signalling him to go back, and I was right.

“Sorry darling,” he shows me his watch, and it shows that he had a minute left, “It’s time’s up for now, but I’ll see you later.” He just gave me a big hug and then he disappeared into thin air.

I still didn’t know how to react to that chain of information, I just sat still for a long time, so long that I could feel my butt hurting because of that. The wind blowing my curtains away from the touch of the windows, and that woke me up, that cold breeze of wind at night but with just a tiny bit of warmth to bring me the comfort I needed.

As if I needed something cold to continue this thinking, I head down the convenience store, in my silly pyjamas, I needed to get my daily doze of milk at 3am for better thinking. Not thinking that anyone would be there at 3am just like me, but I caught a glance of a tall guy with some snow white hair, and in that instant, I couldn’t stop my body from running towards that isle that he was in.

The tall guy turned to look at me, as I was panting from running so fast towards him, and he stared at me up and down, “Are you okay, miss?” I look at him, and I could see the sparkly ocean blue eyes I’ve just seen a moment before, but this person looked like a mini version of him — that Gojo guy. Even their voice sounded somewhat similar…

“I am, thanks for your concern.” I tell him, and he gave a slight smile before grabbing the last bottle of milk to the counter.

“Hey!” I call out to him, and he turned back to look at me, “What is it?” he says.

“I wanted that bottle too,” I say, a blush starting to creep up on my face, I think that explains the smirk on his face, “It might be weird asking but do you mind sharing?”

He just laughed out loud, breaking the silence in the air, and I just look at him with my blush creeping up my face so much faster than before. “So?” I ask again.

“I’ll just give you the bottle.” He tells me, then he heads to the counter to pay while I can’t even move my legs from embarrassment to stop him from paying for me. I simply stood in shock and waited for his return in the same position. He came back and gave me the bottle, I held onto the bottle tight and I maintained eye contact with him before he started leaving the store with both his hands in his pockets.

“Wait!” I call out, again, and he looks at me, “Would your name be Gojo Satoru?”

He didn’t necessarily respond but he did give just that tiny nod I needed to confirm, then he mouths the words, ‘I’ll see you later.’

master list

[sitron-sunni]

I watched the new episode of 9-1-1

a personal essay on queerbaiting (sorta)

I watched the new episode of 9-1-1, and immediately burst into tears as the credits started rolling.

Then I rewound the last six minutes, and watched the scene again, pausing to rewind the kiss. Again. And again. And again.

We got a kiss. I didn’t know we were getting a kiss. I sorta knew we were getting bi Buck, but I didn’t know we were getting a kiss. After last week’s episode, a lot of people were 100% convinced we were getting bi Buck. I saw their reactions before I watched that episode, too, and I was so confused once I finished it. Had we seen the same episode? That guy, Tommy, Buck’s so-called bisexual awakening-guy, was barely in there. He had about two memorable lines, and then he was in the background of a different shot, where he received a job-well-done slap on the shoulder from Buckley. That last one’s the one people were focusing on online. Look at the way this is framed, look at how he’s positioned, between Buck and Eddie. This is foreshadowing how he’s gonna get between them. Buck and Tommy is gonna be the gateway into buddie. They’re actually gonna do buddie, why else would they introduce a relationship between Buck and Tommy?

Reader, I’ll keep it straight with you. I did not believe them. After a while I gathered a lot of people already knew the name of the next episode; Buck, Bothered and Bewildered. They’d seen some stills, they knew there would be conflict and jealousy within that trio. They were putting it all together with comments and hints dropped by the actors. All those things added up, and it did paint a far more convincing picture. And I thought it was fun! I reblogged a few posts about it, I think, or at least I liked some. But the fact remains: I did not believe them. I thought, oh, imagine how cool it would be if they actually went there. I thought, yeah, realistically it would make sense to bring in a third person if they were actually gonna do it. That way they could test the waters, gauge audience response, and it could work as a catalyst for the relationship after so long. But mostly I thought Okay, so they’re gonna bring in Buck’s fear of not being enough for the people he loves again, this time through his friendship with Eddie, and we’re gonna get some sort of final resolution for that. Like, a big moment of catharsis. Or something along those lines, anyway. It just seemed to me like the most realistic thing that could happen. I mean, the idea of canon buddie was nice, of course it was! The queerbait is why I started watching the show in the first place: I wanted a good queerbait! But ultimately, a ship like that going canon was completely unrealistic. I speak from experience, after all.

Maybe it would’ve been different if I was younger. I remember being in fandoms when I was a teen. I remember reading theories, watching youtube-videos with “proof” that this or that was real, that it was gonna go canon. I remember getting my hopes up, thinking Oh my god what if they’re actually gonna do it!? for shows and pairings that, in hindsight, were completely unrealistic. Maybe that’s why I, even with fairly good evidence in front of me, didn’t actually get my hopes up this time. Because why be that stupid? Why invest emotionally like that? Why not just enjoy what we actually had instead, and then get anything extra from fanworks? Haven’t we learned by now?

I woke up this morning and opened tumblr, and I read half a sentence about how we actually have bisexual Buck confirmed canon now, before I quickly closed the app to avoid too detailed spoilers. Oh my god they were right! I can’t wait to watch the episode, I thought happily, and went on with my day. I opened the app again a few hours later, and scrolled for a few minutes, until I saw a brief glimpse of one, maybe one and a half gifs. Bucks face, Tommy’s face. Warm orange-y yellow lighting, Buck’s loft, you still owe me a beer. Close the app, move on. There were other posts throughout the day, more glimpses, all along the same lines as the first one. The last one came late in the evening, this time on twitter. Just the word in all caps; ANNOUNCEMENT, and then Bucks face and a bisexual pride flag.

And then finally, finally, after I’d brushed my teeth and gotten into bed, I was alone with my laptop, and I could watch the episode. The hype had built up, I was so excited to finally watch it. I was internally vibrating just a little bit. I was giggly, I was grinning widely, I was making comments to myself out loud, and laughing. I said oh my god, they’re really laying it on thick. I remember watching that scene for the first time and thinking how Tommy really looked so nervous at some points. That last one I found interesting. I really liked the actor’s portrayal; His facial expressions were quite subtle, and I thought he captured that nervous feeling so well. Maybe I took such notice of it because, well, I wasn’t quite expecting it.

I wasn’t expecting nervousness in an interaction between Buck and Tommy, because I still wasn’t actually expecting anything. At least I don’t think I was. Even with everything I’d seen online. Even as I was watching the show, I convinced myself. Those words, you still owe me a beer, they’ve misinterpreted them. They think it’s an invitation to a date because Buck’s jealousy in this episode is making it more plausible than ever before. Sure, the show’s leaning into it this time, but they’re gonna pull the rug out next episode. No, of course it wasn’t an invite to a date, what show were you watching, are you delusional? It’s just gonna be one week of people speculating and theorizing and building it up, and then the show’s gonna resolve it with some no-homo followed by a nice new buddie moment. The buzz will die down, and things will go back to normal.

And then the kiss happened. And then I burst into tears.

And now I think, oh my god isn’t it wild that they’re introducing a new romantic relationship for one of the main characters, and for the entire lead-up to the relationship, both Buck and Tommy are entirely focused on Eddie? Like, they’re just making everything about a third person! Imagine if they did this for anybody else! and, oh my god Tommy’s gonna break up with Buck because Buck’s basically already dating Eddie or something, isn’t he? and, oh my god it’s gonna be glorious! and, oh my god I can’t wait!

And I’m also thinking, I was wrong, and you were right. And I’m so happy I could cry.

TL;DR: If you and I share sterek, or destiel, or god knows what other similarly-shaped trauma, 9-1-1 might heal ya.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Heyyy! here’s a prompt: James and Sirius are tired of constantly turning people down and watching their food for Amortentia or any variation of it so they decide to pretend to be gay and in love. Please make them get together for real in the end :)))

((Note: This fic was written by starlitmusings our newest author! It's ~9k, so you can read below, or on her AO3))

Early morning light filters through the thin curtains of the sixth-year boys’ dormitory, bathing the room with a soft golden hue. James, whose bed is closest to the window, stretches lazily and looks over to the sleeping boy curled next to him.

“Pads,” he whispers. There’s a stray lock of hair falling across his friend’s face, and James has the strange but familiar urge to tuck it in behind his ear and—

And what? Ruin the relationship you have with the most important person in your life?  James dispels the thought with the ease of someone who’s had to do it many times before. “Pads,” he says again, giving him a gentle push. “Wake up, we’ll be late. The others will hog the loo if we don’t get up first.”

Sirius stirs, feels the light on the exposed parts of his body, and promptly locks his legs around James. He blindly finds the crook of James’ neck and buries his face into it with a mumbled, “Don’t want to. ‘M comfy.”

James resists the urge to laugh and instead jams a finger into his shoulder. 

“Ow! Bloody hell, you fucking traitor,” Sirius yelps as he pulls away from James. He sits up slowly and stretches with a yawn, and James finds his gaze drawn to the way the light hits the hard, Quidditch-toned planes of Sirius’ bare chest and arms. 

“I can’t skive off of classes anymore, Sirius, you know that. Besides, you need time to get your hair care routine in or you’ll be a brat all day,” James replies once he wills his eyes to look anywhere but his half-naked friend. The friend that’s half-naked on his bed, his brain promptly supplies, and James mentally kicks himself for the thought.

“Stupid Dumbledore and his stupid decision to make you the stupid Head Boy,” Sirius grumbles. “And I don’t even have a bloody hair care routine, Jamie, you should know that the generational inbreeding took care of that.”

James laughs, trying not to show just how much he agrees with Sirius’ words and heads over to the bathroom with Sirius hot on his heels despite his muttered complaints. Not five minutes, later, Remus and Peter are barging in and kicking them out for taking too long, and James throws Sirius a smug I-told-you-so grin. Sirius rolls his eyes. 

As they’re pulling on their uniforms, Sirius approaches James with an uncharacteristic hesitation. “Prongs,” he begins. “We’re mates, right?”

James nods. “Obviously.” 

“I was thinking, we always share a bed, right?” 

“Right,” James says slowly, unsure of where this is heading.

“And are constantly with each other and want to be near each other, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So I was thinking—” he’s cut off by the bathroom door slamming open and Remus coming out.

“Morning,” he greets them. “Have you seen my sweater? The one with—”

“In my trunk,” James interrupts. Remus pulls it out with a triumphant grin and pecks James on the cheek. “I need to leave a little early to talk to Minnie about my last essay,” he says as he rushes out the door. “See you at breakfast.” 

There’s silence for a minute before Peter rushes out similarly to Remus just had. Finally free of their dormmates, James turns to Sirius with a raised eyebrow. Go on.  

“Y’know how there’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up?”

“Sure, so?”

“Well, I was thinking that I’d rather not be accosted by a bunch of people asking for a date when we’re not interested. So let’s pretend we’re dating.”

James blinks, stares, and blinks again. “Come again?”

Sirius sighs, his fingers fiddling with the hems of his sleeves. James thinks he sees the beginning of a light blush on his cheeks, but he also thinks Sirius just said he wants to date him so his mental facilities were clearly malfunctioning. Until Sirius repeats, more slowly this time, “Let’s pretend we’re dating.”

He had heard Sirius loud and clear the first time, but he still can't believe what he’s hearing. He’s not nearly awake or caffeinated enough to handle the love of his life asking him out. Never mind that Sirius wants it to be fake, whatever that means. 

“Um,” he starts. “Wait, what exactly do you—”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Jamie,” Sirius says exasperatedly. “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend to stop random people from confessing to me. Last week a bloke sent a dwarf to sing me a poem about how he’s going to drink a potion to spontaneously create himself a vagina so I can put babies in him. Like, what the fuck, no thank you.”

“You…didn’t tell me that,” James says, wide-eyed with a mixture of horror and awe. Before he can filter his words — though Merlin knows is his brain is capable of that now — he blurts out, “I’ll do it, obviously, but why me?”

“You know what everyone says, we’re basically a married couple already. Nobody else can make it convincing enough. You’re the best candidate.”

“And Remus can’t because…?”

“You know he’s got his eyes on Regulus.” Sirius scrunches his nose and makes a disgusted sound. “Which is, like, wrong on so many levels I wouldn’t even know where to begin."

James lets out a stangled laugh. “Okay, I get it. But why me, and you know, not someone you actually want to ask out?”

“If I wanted to ask someone out, I wouldn’t be having this problem, now would I?” Sirius retorts. “Besides, you were complaining after Potions the other day about how you caught some girls sneaking Amortentia to slip into our drinks. I was thinking, this way we both benefit and it’s not as awkward as it would be with a stranger.”

This was starting to sound like a horrible idea, but James knew he was going to go through with it regardless as soon as Sirius made his offer. “We’ll need a cover story if we want to get anyone to believe us.”

Sirius nods, pulling James behind him and they make their way down to the Great Hall. “That’s easy since most people think we’re dating already. Let’s just say that we fancied each other for years. It all came to a head this summer when I moved in with you. We’ve actually been dating since summer but we’re only making it official now.”

James hums as he thinks it over. “And Moony and Pete don’t know about this?”

Sirius waves his hand in a careless gesture. “Eh. We’ll tell them the real reason later.” He eyes James carefully, then laces their fingers together. “The rumours will start faster this way,” he says by way of explanation, and James prays on all the gods he doesn’t believe in that Sirius doesn’t notice his racing heartbeat. 

As predicted, whispers and curious glances towards the pair begin as soon as they enter the Great Hall. Sirius turns to James with a gleeful grin and pulls on his hand to press a kiss on his knuckles. There are some squeals and James thinks he sees a third-year pass out, and he’d be lying if he weren’t close to doing the same. 

“What the fuck, you guys,” Remus hisses to them as they sit down. “We were gone for less than ten minutes!”

“We’ll have you know, our darling, precious Moonbeam,” says Sirius, “that James and I are very efficient. Would’ve been a shame if it took longer than that to declare our undying love to each other.”

Remus scoffs. “Would’ve been normal, you mean, considering that your love is neither undying nor existent.”

“How dare you. We are disgustingly in love, I’ll have you know,” Sirius counters, and wraps an arm around James pointedly. James flushes and turns away from Remus’ knowing gaze.

This was going to be a long week.

It doesn’t take long before everyone in Hogwarts is aware of the relationship status of the school’s two most desired students. Most of the upper years congratulate them as they collect their bet winnings and comment on how good they look together, and one fifth-year shyly tells them that their bravery to come out helped them come out to their friends too. 

In hindsight, James realizes that coming out wasn’t even a factor in his decision to fake a relationship. It’s never been a secret that he was bisexual, but it makes sense that a lot of people are surprised since he never publicly announced it. He expects to feel somewhat uneasy, but it’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pattern with his best friend. Sirius was right in that there are hardly any differences in their relationship now that they’re dating — apart from random pecks and hand-holding, which never fail to make James’ stomach explode with butterflies. 

Later that week, when all the sixth-year Gryffindors are lounging on the sofas nearest to the fire, Lily looks at them cheekily. “You boys are remembering to use protection, right?” she asks with a grin. James sputters and throws a pillow at her. Sirius just laughs and reassures her that, yes, darling, of course we are.

James wishes what Sirius said was true. He mostly wishes that he wasn’t in love with his best friend and that he had never agreed to this stupid plan. While he had always pined from afar before, it was much harder to hide his feelings when the object of his desires was now so close.  

“This is the place?” Regulus asks doubtfully, eyeing two little girls in pigtails eating a cloud of pink fluff near the entryway. “The Muggle — uh, park for amusement?”

Remus bounces in excitement, eyes lit up. “Yes! I’m so glad you all agreed to come. This place has been one of my favourite places since I was young.” 

Regulus’ eyes soften as he reaches over to fix his boyfriend’s scarf. “Then I’m glad you brought me here.”

Sirius mimes gagging as the new couple rolls their eyes. James grins and nudges Sirius. 

“ You’re the one who agreed to have a double date instead of eating through our Honeydukes stash together,” he reminds him. 

Sirius huffs. “You can’t expect to resist Reg when he does those eyes on me! And Remus joining in? I was doomed from the start.”

“Says the one who’s actually a dog,” Regulus deadpans. “You of all people should be immune to puppy eyes.”

“I think becoming an Animagus made me less immune, actually,” Sirius muses. “It’s probably to prepare if I ever become a puppy dad.”

Regulus blanches while James and Remus crack up. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Remus says, laughing. “Remember that lady at the park near Lils’ place with the poodle?”

James bends over with laughter while Sirius shoves them both. “I hate you two! You promised you wouldn’t!”

“Wait, no, I need to know this,” Regulus is grinning evilly, the look worthy of a Black. “Tell me more?”

Remus takes his hand. “With pleasure.”

Sirius puts his nose in the air and huffs again. “That’s my cue to take my leave. James, come with?”

“You look like Mum like that,” Regulus tells him. When Sirius glares at him, he laughs. “That makes the resemblance even better.” Sirius rolls his eyes and turns to James.

“Yeah, okay, but it’s your fault if we get lost,” James replies. He takes a map and bids the other two goodbye, promising to meet them near the food court at lunch. 

“I won’t get lost. I have you, remember?” Sirius says. James raises an eyebrow.

“That would be romantic, but I’m hardly any better than you at navigating this place.”

“At least we’ll have fun?”

“Why are you saying that like a question?”

“My most sincerest apologies. We’ll most definitely have fun!”

“Better.”

“Idiot.”

“Hey, at least I’m your idiot now.”  

Sirius looks over at him with an unreadable expression. “This is fake, Prongs.”

James feels his throat tighten. “Yeah, I know,” he says and tries to ignore the unpleasant clench of his stomach. He thinks he’s successful, but Sirius’ keen gaze seems to read right through the act.

The music playing on a loop as they pass the Tunnel O’ Love overlaps chaotically with excited yells and sounds of carnival games, and sweet, fatty smells mingle with the pine in the air. Sirius leads James along a curling path to a blue-and-gold ticket booth near the entrance, proudly pulling out a stack of Muggle money Remus had given him. 

“I’ll get us two tickets, while you can figure out where you want to go first,” he tells James and hands over a map from the ticket booth. James eyes his arse appreciatively while he flirts with the ticket woman, but quickly averts his gaze when she looks at him knowingly.

James stares at the colourful piece of paper, trying to figure out how to read it. “Does the — uh, does the House of Mirrors sound okay?”

“What, you want to get lost for real? Relying on me, who’s never spoken to a Muggle in my life, to navigate a Muggle wonderland isn’t doing enough for you?”

James shoves him and has to resist a grin when Sirius barks out his laughter. “I’m joking! That sounds fine,” Sirius says, now holding two tickets and a business card with a hastily scrawled number on it. “I’d love to start the day staring at myself from all angles. And you, of course. You’re pretty easy on the eyes.”

“Aww, did my darling Padfoot just say I’m good-looking?” James teases. Sirius rolls his eyes but he can’t hide the smile on his face. 

“Stop fishing for compliments. You know you are."

James’ face flushes. He doesn’t respond while he buys them both churros, some Muggle sweet that tastes like heaven. It’s sweet on his tongue and it helps to distract him a little from the cooler October winds and the sight Sirius makes. He tries not to notice how Sirius moves closer to him for warmth when a large gust hits them, but he can’t ignore the warmth that fills him when he does.

“Is this it?” Sirius asks after a long but comfortable silence. He eyes the pink archway over the entrance of the House of Mirrors distrustfully. 

James nods, face illuminated by the neon lights crisscrossing over the room. “You want to see who can make it out first?”

“Oh, you’re on.” Sirius doesn’t wait a second before taking off to the right. James laughs and takes a left. 

The sound of people hustling through the maze fades as James takes a few steps in. He meets an expected pane of glass and turns right into a new room framed with arches of light. Starting to become more purposeful with his turns, and trying to recall the map of the maze from the entrance, he changes directions but is met with glass. He tries again, with no success.

He’s trying to stay calm, but eventually, the fact that he’s lost and alone and stuck in a glass maze in a Muggle park with no Sirius around starts to become unnerving. His pulse quickens, and he tells himself to keep moving. 

Another glass wall. Keep moving. 

He spins left. Keep moving. 

He’s about to turn right — keep moving — but he slams into someone as he rounds the corner. “Shit,” they gasp, clutching their neck. “Are you okay?”

James nods. He’s feeling a bit dazed so it takes him a moment to realize. “Wait, Sirius? Oh bloody fuck, did I bite you?”

The other person — Sirius — sputters out a laugh. “James? Yeah, you did. It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Sirius. I have blood on my teeth, and I don’t think it’s mine.”

Sirius winces. “Yeah, well, I’ve dealt with worse than a bitten collarbone.”

“If it helps, I don’t have rabies.”

“Why would that help? And also, you might have rabies as Prongs.”

A pensive look crosses James’ face. “Wait, you think? Oh shit, let me take a look.”

Sirius stills, then shrugs James’ hand off his shoulder. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I said, let me see.” Without waiting for Sirius’ response, James steps closer to inspect the teeth marks. This close, he can smell Sirius’ peppermint toothpaste and their shared shampoo and something warm and a little earthy, and he can see how the glow of Sirius’ skin under the fluorescent lighting gives him an almost alien-like look. James swallows and wills his blood back up. His best friend’s bleeding, and he’s getting a hard-on. What the fuck?

He distracts himself with healing the small cuts. “There. Good as new,” he says and steps back quickly, only for Sirius to grab his wrist. His grey eyes are dark, reflecting the pink and blue lights overhead. 

“Prongs,” he murmurs. “If you want to—” 

“Yeah,” James breathes out, voice ragged and low. “Anything you want.”

Sirius lets his hand trail up James’ arm, pushing up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and leaving goosebumps in his wake. There’s a split second of hesitation before he’s leaning in, and then James can’t think of anything other than Sirius, his best friend and better half, who smells edible and tastes like the churros they were having earlier and who’s doing something with his tongue that has James gasping and pushing Sirus back against the glass. There’s a crash nearby and some people laughing and they’re springing apart, eyes wide and dark. 

“Why haven’t we been doing this forever?” Sirius breathes. “Fuck, Prongs. That was…”

“Yeah,” James agrees, but he’s unsure what he’s agreeing to. “Wait, what?”

“We should’ve been doing this all along,” Sirius repeats. “I mean, we are dating.”

“Fake,” James automatically says. He thinks he sees disappointment flash across Sirius’ features, but puts it to a trick of the light. 

“Right. Let’s get out of here, yeah? The others will be wondering where we are.”

“Okay,” James says quietly. He’s feeling somewhat off-centre from the kiss and the conversation afterwards, so he leans against Sirius and smiles when he lets him take his hand. 

They seem to walk for hours, and James could swear they went past the same benches a few times, but it feels much easier with Sirius by his side. As soon as the thought forms, as though he can read his mind, Sirius turns to James and gives him a breathtaking smile. “I like it better when you’re with me,” he says softly. 

James stills, heart racing. Between the kiss and now this, he’s feeling rather shaky. “Me too,” he replies quickly, then notices the intensity of the noise here. There’s a barely visible gap between two mirrors facing out, and James grins. 

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I win,” James says with a laugh, slipping between the glass panes and out into the open air. Sirius comes following, hot on his heels, and whirls to face James. 

“That’s not fair! We were having a moment and I was distracted!”

“Nobody told you to get all sappy on me,” James retorts. “As the winner, I choose the next place we go to.”

“You chose this place too,” Sirius grumbles, but begrudgingly gives James the win. 

“I want to go there.” James points to a large open canopy, under which there seem to be millions of children. “Please?”

“I’m not playing against babies, ” Sirius says. “There’s no way.”

“Your loss. Watch me then, you sore loser.” James grins when Sirius flips him the bird.

“Wait, no, look! Isn’t that Remus?”

James looks around and brightens when he sees him. “Yes! Oh wow, I’m actually hungry. Race you!”

Sirius shakes his head in disbelief then runs off to catch up. 

After lunch, when their stomachs are full of burgers and what Remus calls funnel cakes, James insists on playing until he wins a huge dog plush. He spends the Muggle equivalent of 20 galleons and is about to try again when Remus grabs him by the arm to drag him away. He’s whining and struggling against him when Regulus comes over. 

“Reggie! Tell your boyfriend to let me go!”

Regulus turns to Sirius. “Is this about that toy?”

“I need to win that for Sirius! Think of my dignity, I can’t let toddlers win games that I can’t!”

Sirius pulls James against him. “I don’t need a mediocre representation of my beautiful Animagus form, love. It’s fine if they win.”

“No,” James gasps. “Not you too!”

“It’s not your fault you’re bad at kid games,” Regulus teases. 

“Oi, these machines are rigged against us magical folk anyways,” Sirius consoles, ruffling James’ hair. The three of them have to physically drag his thrashing body away a minute later when a kid no older than four comes up to the machine right after them and manages to win the plush in one go.

“Wha—how in the world—can I steal it from him?”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “You’re not stealing a toy from a four-year-old, James, what happened to your morals?”

“I lost it with my dignity!”

Regulus laughs. “Close your mouth, James, flies are gonna go in.”

“But—But my Padfoot plushie—”

“How dare you insinuate that that crappy fabric monstrosity is me. ”

James sniffles. “It was beautiful. It would’ve kept me so warm at night.”

“What am I for?”

“Your feet are too cold,” James says miserably. “I wanted that!”

Sirius purses his lips. “For that, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

James blinks. “You don’t mean that. I can’t get my plushie, and now I won’t get Siri snuggles?”

Regulus and Remus crack up, and Sirius shakes his head with an amused huff. James pouts the entire way home.

“Uh, Sirius? What are you doing?” James asks, surprised to see Sirius waiting for him outside detention. “You’re supposed to be at dinner.”

“I was waiting for you to finish,” Sirius says, smoothing down nonexistent dust from the dark Muggle jeans he’s wearing. “Come on, we’re going out.”

“What?”

“I’m treating you to dinner. Being a proper boyfriend and all that.”

James blinks. “We’re not proper boyfriends.”

Sirius glances up. “Do you want to be?”

What. James has no idea how to respond to that so he busies himself with transfiguring his robes to something more casual. He lets himself get dragged to the Three Broomsticks where they have shepherd’s pie, drink too much Butterbeer, and call it dinner. Between the good food and good company, James can’t bring himself to complain, even though Sirius is acting a lot weirder than usual.

“I was thinking,” Sirius begins. The two of them are curled around each other on a sofa in front of the fire, watching Remus and Regulus play Exploding Snap. It’s a Friday night, and they’re pushing off their homework to Sunday.

“Oh no,” James groans theatrically. “Last time you said that, we had to start dating!”

Sirius shoves him. “Oh, fuck off.” Then, noticing others looking their way with confused glances, Sirius raises his voice. “Yes, and how good did the idea come out to be?”

James catches his drift. “Yeah, it was one of your better ideas for sure.” He leans down to kiss him without thinking and freezes when he realizes what he just did. They’re both still for a second before Sirius flips them over and snogs him so thoroughly that James thinks he probably won’t get the taste of him out for a week.

Regulus throws a cushion at them. “Get a room, you insufferable wankers.”

Sirius flips him off. “Remember that when you’re sucking Moony’s face off, you tosser.”

Remus winces. “Why are you so crude?”

Sirius ignores him, turning back to James. “So I was thinking, we should go see your parents this weekend.”

“Like right now?” James asks, bewildered. 

“Our relationship has been the talk of the school for a few weeks now. I think they’d appreciate hearing it from us before they get it from someone else.”

James sits up quickly, nearly knocking Sirius over. “Fuck, I did not think this would go so far.”

“Why, are you ashamed of me?”

“No! I just don’t want to, you know, lie to my parents about dating my best friend. Who’s basically their son? Is that incest?”

“It doesn’t have to be a lie,” Sirius says quietly. “And ew, what the hell, Prongs, why would this be incest!” 

James stares at him. “Why do you keep saying that when you’re the one who came up with the whole fake part of this?”

Sirius looks away. “Never mind. Do you want to go now? Because Minnie’s probably still awake. We could use her Floo.”

James stares for a moment longer. “Um, okay.”

He heads toward the portrait hole, missing the worried look Remus and Regulus shoot toward Sirius. 

“James! Sirius! What a surprise, I missed you both so much!” Euphemia says happily as she grabs them in a tight hug. “You’ve already grown so much and it’s only been a few months!”

James smiles as he leans down to kiss her head, tension leaving his shoulders at her embrace. “We missed you too, Mum. Where’s Dad?”

“In the office, I presume. Oh, come here, you,” she pulls Sirius over to kiss his cheeks. Sirius smiles, cheeks turning pink, and squeezes her back just as hard.

“What’s this?” Fleamont asks as he walks over. “Well, would you look at that, my sons finally remembered they have parents!”

James watches as Sirius stiffens with a flush before relaxing with a brilliant smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch as much as I want to. We’re so busy with school.”

Fleamont laughs. “I’m just messing with you.” He grabs James into a headlock, which James resists for half a minute before giving up. Pressing a kiss on his son’s forehead, he turns to Sirius and greets him the same way.

“I can’t say I’m unhappy with this surprise, but why so sudden? I wasn’t expecting either of you two.” Euphemia pulls them over to the living room and calls their house-elf to prepare something for them to eat, despite their insistence of having already eaten dinner.

There’s a few minutes of tense silence. “Well, it’s just that—” James tries to begin, but gets interrupted by the house-elf returning with tea and biscuits.

“We’re dating,” Sirius blurts out. He’s watching Euphemia and Fleamont with a steady glance, face betraying nothing. James stares at him, wishing he could vanish into thin air. He’s gotten used to introducing themselves as boyfriends to the people at school, so it shouldn’t sound so foreign, but in front of his parents, he feels stripped bare. 

Fleamont sets down his teacup and Euphemia pauses. James watches tentatively as their expressions morph into one of surprise before shifting to joy. Fleamont’s smile twitches and Euphemia’s eyes glitter merrily. 

“I can’t say we didn’t expect this,” Euphemia says, tea all but forgotten as she leans forward to take their hands in hers. “When did this start?”

“Over the summer, but we didn’t know how to tell you,” Sirius replies once he realizes that James has lost all ability to function. “We made it official a little bit into the school year.”

Fleamont grins. “No wonder you were so eager to get away this year.”

Sirius laughs. James wants to die. “I can’t help it. I just want James all to myself, even when he’s right next to me.”

Euphemia coos. “I can’t believe Sirius is the first boyfriend you brought home for us to meet, James. You’re getting all grown up, aren’t you?” she says, pinching his cheeks and James pulls away in embarrassment. 

There’s a part of him that wants to confess and tell them that they’re not actually a couple and it was just a silly mistake, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when they’re both looking at them so excited about their relationship. He knows it will hurt them more if — when — they inevitably call this off, but for now, he selfishly doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

James thinks he should feel more guilty about lying to his friends and family about being in a relationship. But strangely, he doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because no matter how much he tries to deny it, the truth isn’t too far off from the lies that he’s telling them.

Later, he comes into the kitchen to help his mum put away the tea. She leans against him when he hugs her from behind and rests her hands on his. They’re wrinkled and rough from age and labour, but they’re just as familiar as James remembered.

Euphemia lets out a deep breath. “I worry for you two sometimes.” 

James frowns. “Why? We’re doing fine, both Sirius and I.”

She closes her eyes and James feels his throat pinch. She looks so fragile in his arms. “Both of you always put each other before yourselves,” she says. “Even if it comes at the cost of your own happiness. I worry that there will be a time where you both think you’re doing what will benefit the other, but will only cause a divide between you two.”

James hums into her hair. “You don’t need to worry about that, Mum. Sirius and I share a brain cell, remember? Nothing can divide us.” 

She laughs and he leans down to kiss her quickly when he hears her whisper, “Jamie, I’m going to tell him this too because you’re both my boys. I love you both to pieces, but if he dares to hurt you, dump him. You deserve only the best.”

He can’t help but laugh, but he feels hollow. Who could be better than Sirius? And why would they want me when my best friend doesn’t?

On Monday morning, James is called into Dumbledore’s office for a Head meeting. As he walks alongside Lily, she gently nudges him to face her.

“I’m so happy for you, James,” she tells him seriously. “Am I a little miffed that you got with Sirius right when we started getting along? A little. But you two are so perfect for each other, it’s hard to be anything but happy for you.”

James tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean? We’ve always been close, so this is hardly any different from what we were like before.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Yes, but since you two started dating, both of you seem, I don’t know, lighter.”

“We’ve always been happy together. Even as friends.” James fights the urge to say that they’re still just friends.

“Mhm, sure, but you were less attached.” At James’ disbelieving laugh, she amends, “Like, you two would be together, but both of you obviously wanted more. And now you have that, so you two look less lonely.”

James says nothing. She nudges him again and makes a face, and they both start giggling. It would’ve been so easy to be in love with Lily, James thinks, as he watches her dimples come out as she laughs. Her red hair falls in waves behind her, and James wishes he still wanted to wrap his hands in it as he once did. 

“What if… what if I told you that we’re not in a real relationship?” he asks quietly. As soon as it’s out, he wishes he could take it back.

Lily’s eyes narrow. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“We did this so people wouldn’t make a big deal of asking us out to Hogmeade,” James says in a rush. “We’re just pretending to be dating. We’re not anything more than best mates.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you just pretending to like him?”

James squirms. He feels exposed under Lily’s sharp gaze. “Yes.”

“Really.” Lily’s tone is flat and gives no indication as to what she thinks, but James hears her disbelief loud and clear. He’s just grateful that she masked her surprise well.

“Okay, so maybe I like him a tiny bit more than I let on,” James admits. 

Lily nods. “So obviously, I’m right. So? When are you telling him?”

James makes an indignant squawk. “Why would I risk ruining our friendship like that?”

Lily purses her lips. “How are you so sure that your friendship with him will be ruined? Last I checked, you could kill his entire family and he’d still worship the ground you walk on.”

“He hates his family, save for Regulus. And I’d never kill Regulus so that’s hardly saying anything.”

Lily makes a frustrated noise. “James. Even before this fake dating ruse, neither of you can fall asleep unless you’re cuddling each other. You’re constantly talking to him or about him. If either of you are ever separated, you have a mirror to talk through for the few minutes that you’re not joined at the hip. How much more oblivious can any two people get?”

James huffs. “That’s only because Sirius is comfy and interesting and brilliant and funny and gorgeous and understands me more than anyone else.”

When Lily says nothing, he looks over and sees her staring at him in a McGonagall-esque manner. “Okay,” he concedes. “So maybe I fancy him a lot, and maybe he likes me back. Emphasis on the maybe. If I confess, and he doesn’t feel the same, what then?”

“Then blame it on me. To save you from your misery, I’ll marry you and we’ll have seven babies and start our own Quidditch team,” Lily says, deadpan. James laughs and puts his arm around her.

“Sounds like a plan,” he tells her happily. “I’ll be the best, most doting husband and father ever.”

She smiles indulgently and hugs him back.

Winter holidays come around quickly. Regulus had come by during the day with Remus but they’ve long since gone. To pass the time, James and Sirius nick some Firewhisky stashed in Fleamont’s study and are passing the bottle between them when James decides to ruin his night. 

“Why did you choose to fake a relationship with me when you could’ve gotten into a real one with someone you fancy?” he blurts out. His brain-mouth filter is fuzzy after having too much to drink. 

“I like spending time with you,” Sirius replies matter-of-factly, as though nothing could be more obvious. “Why hang out with some stupid stranger when I could be with you?”

“Not what I meant.” Sirius looks so pretty, James thinks, staring at the pink flush starting to spread across his cheeks as he drinks more alcohol. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor of James’ bedroom when they first took out the bottle, but now they’ve manoeuvred so that their legs are intertwined and they’re heavily leaning on each other.

James can see the flutter of Sirius’ dark eyelashes whenever he turns to face him. Moonlight illuminates his face from the gap between the curtains, turning his eyes silver. His bottom lip is redder than the top from biting down on it. It’s soft and plump and seems to be beckoning James near. 

A siren’s call. That’s what Sirius was — a siren. Tantalizing, perfect, untouchable. Dangerous to get too close to.

“I’m tired of people wanting to have a part of me without taking the time and effort to understand me. They don’t even know me — I mean, they think they do, but all they see is the popular Hogwarts heartthrob, the rule-breaker and prankster. The black sheep of the Black family.” Sirius’ eyes are glassy from the whiskey, but his gaze seems sad and far away for an entirely different reason.

“That’s not true. I see you,” James says, watching Sirius blink up at him. It feels awfully domestic to be sitting here, away from everyone in just their ugly comfort clothes and baggy sweats. Sirius has a flower clip stuck to his hair that’s nearly slipping off of his bangs and all of his earrings have been put away for the night. They’re just them, and James wants to take a picture to capture it forever.

“But that’s ‘cause you’re you, Jamie. I couldn’t keep a part of myself away from you even if I tried.”

“Not the part of yourself that’s saved for your future special person.”

“You’re my special person, Jamie. There’s no one else.” Sirius waves a hand in front of James’ face and James intertwines their hands together instinctively, mindlessly rubbing circles into the back of Sirius’ hands with his thumb. He drops his bottle to trace over his knuckles with his other hand and presses a kiss onto each raised bone. Sirius’ breath hitches.

“You don’t want me like that, Pads.” James has no idea why he says that. He wants to remain in this ignorant bubble they created in his room for a little longer before Sirius inevitably rejects him. There’s a strange tension filling the air and James feels like he’s drowning. The only anchor he has is the weight of Sirius’ hand in his, but that’s not enough, not when Sirius doesn’t feel the same way, not when James wants more than what Sirius can give, not when James is so fucking greedy he’ll take everything Sirius offers and still beg for more. 

He doesn’t realize that they’re both holding their breaths. All of his attention is focused on the warm, reassuring weight of Sirius’ hand in his, the fingers long and thin and callused from Quidditch. James’ hands are slightly larger and wrap around Sirius’ like two puzzle pieces fit together, just like the two of them. Golden brown on paler white, a work of art.

Like a moth to a flame, James scoots over to Sirius. The small rational part of his mind screams at him to pull away before he hurts himself and Sirius and their beautiful, wonderful relationship. It may be the Firewhiskey or it may be the months of pining, but all rationale flies out the window when Sirius beams at him, wide and unburdened and brighter than his namesake, so fucking perfect it hurts.

“You’re wrong, Prongs,” Sirius whispers. Their faces are inches away from each other. James can’t help but trace lines down the side of his jaw, feeling the 5 o'clock shadow there.  “You’re so wrong, bloody hell, I don’t know what I’d even do without you. Burn the world down to get you back, probably, or become the next Dark Lord. I’d do it all, for you.” 

James stills. He can feel Sirius’ breath fan across his face and can almost hear his racing heartbeat. Or maybe that’s his own. His head is spinning, and everything is starting to feel too real. He needs space, needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

He pulls away from Sirius, dropping his hand and pushing to his feet. He swallows down the lump in his throat and tries to ignore the way Sirius flinches, a look of hurt marring his face. James is about to reach again, apology at the tip of his tongue, but he reminds himself that it’s for their own good. 

Sirius is drunk, after all, and it won’t mean anything come morning. It hasn’t meant anything so far, and if he makes one mistake, everything they take for granted could come crashing down. Best to stop it before it’s too late.

“It’s getting late,” James forces out. It takes almost all of his effort to plaster an unaffected smile on his face. His hands clench at his sides, longing for Sirius’ warmth. “We should go to bed.”

He stumbles into the loo to wash his face, knees shaking so much that he knocks into the edge of his bed. He refuses to turn around, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from giving in upon seeing the expression on Sirius’ face. He promised himself years ago that he would never be the cause of Sirius’ misery, and doing this to both of them makes him feel like the biggest arse in the world.

When he returns, Sirius is on their bed, curled into himself on the very edge. James wants to reach out to hold him close and whisper sweet nothings into his ear to take away his discomfort, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He falls into a restless sleep, wishing for the millionth time that he was a better man. Maybe then he wouldn’t make so many mistakes.

Before long, classes start again. Amidst piling assignments, Quidditch practice, Head duties, and career planning meetings with McGonagall, James barely has time to spend time alone with Sirius. Since that drunken night at home, Sirius has stopped squeezing into his bed every night, leaving James alone with the dark, a strangely cold bed, and racing thoughts.  James doesn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse. If anything, the distance only makes him think about Sirius more. 

If James had any self-control, he’d stop himself from remembering how Sirius had looked that night. But the past few months of stolen kisses and lingering touches had crumbled any control James had over his thoughts, and he often found himself imagining how Sirius’ flushing skin and loose tongue. The slope of his neck as he leaned against him. The cold, gentle slide of his fingers across James’ bare thighs. The painful avoidance in the following days, the awkward silences and betrayed glances. 

It’s that last memory that forces James to face his reality and bury his overwhelming feelings in the recesses of his mind. He knows he wears his heart on his sleeve, that he laughs effortlessly, cries easily, and cares fiercely. But another part of him knows that to keep Sirius from being scared away by the intensity of his love, he must hide those parts of himself. And so he keeps a distance and ignores Sirius’ flinches and sad eyes. 

He’s doing loops over the Quidditch field the afternoon of his birthday, trying to calm his emotions. He’d been ecstatic when he woke up to a surprise birthday breakfast in the common room with students from all houses and his parents calling over the Floo, but that excitement had been damped when he realized Sirius wasn’t there. It wasn’t uncommon lately for Sirius to slip away in the mornings before James woke up, but he’d been hoping to settle the tension between them to enjoy his birthday with his favourite person.

He looks down when a Hufflepuff third-year calls his name from the sidelines. She’s holding a large gift bag and waving to get his attention.

“Sirius told me to give this to you,” the younger girl says while handing him the bag. “I don’t know why he couldn’t just give it to you himself when he saw you this morning. Something about not being able to give it to you because he has some modelling gig. Since when does Sirius model?”

“He doesn’t,” James replies, bewildered. “Why did he say that?”

The girl shrugs. “Don’t ask me. You’re the only one who can make sense of the stuff he says.” With that, she goes back to the castle, leaving James alone.

Inside the bag is a box of Honeydukes’ chocolates — an assortment of hibiscus raspberry and cardamom orange, which meant Sirius had taken the time to custom-order James’ favourite seasonal flavours. James feels a pleasant warmth pooling in his gut, touched at Sirius’ thoughtfulness despite the past few weeks of strained friendship. 

There’s another larger box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. James gasps when he sees what’s in it, before laughing in disbelief. 

It’s a large, black dog plushie wearing a leather jacket and holding a wand. 

There’s a note attached to the ribbon and James instantly recognizes Sirius’ neat, small handwriting. It reads,

Happy birthday Jamie! You may be of age now but know that I am still older and that if you don’t continue to treat me as a respected elder, I will make you regret it. But I guess I’d rather you treat me as a child than have to endure this distance you’ve put between us. It was that night during the hols, wasn’t it? I freaked you out with my feelings. I knew I should’ve kept my distance, but you should’ve seen yourself. Moonlit and dark-lidded and, as usual, breathtaking.  

Anyway, I love you despite your idiotic tendencies to push people away when you think you’re not good enough for them or whatever bullshit your mind spews out. (I can imagine your raised eyebrow as you call me a hypocrite, but let me have this.) Hope we can go back to normal sooner rather than later; it feels strange to not have you with me constantly. 

Xx Your favourite Marauder, Padfoot 

James’ gut churns while his mind scrambles to make sense of the words. Sirius had feelings? For him? He loved him? All this time, he was trying to protect his heart by distancing himself, but he never considered if Sirius had meant what he had said that night. The proof was right there.

And yet, it felt too good to be true.

The dorm is empty when James comes in, but the map is conveniently on Remus’ nightstand. Taking it with him, he finds Sirius seated in a window of an empty corridor on the third floor, resting his elbows on his knees and looking outside. He turns when he hears footsteps. His grey eyes widen for a fraction of a second when he sees James, before setting into a resigned expression.

“Modeling gig?” is the first thing that comes out of James’ mouth. “What the hell, Sirius.”

“Why are you here?” Sirius asks quietly. He looks withdrawn and guarded, and the look sends a pang through James’ chest. 

“I got your note.” James sits next to Sirius on the small seat and purses his lips when Sirius immediately pulls his feet close to himself. “I didn’t know—”

“It doesn’t matter, James,” Sirius bites back. His eyes, blank just moments before, is not bright with anger and hurt. His hands tremble where he’s clutching his knees, and he pauses to glare at them for a moment before continuing. “I know where I stand. You made it plenty clear. I just wanted to get it out of the way so I wouldn’t have to deal with this… this whole uncertainty when it comes to you. I know I won’t get what I want, and you know this too, so can we just pretend we talked about everything we needed to talk about and go back to normal?”

“What if I don’t want to go back to normal?” James retorts. He’s starting to feel a little angry himself. 

In an instant, Sirius deflates, eyes looking lost once again. “I don’t — I don’t understand. I know I messed up, but I didn’t think — I mean, is it such a bad thing for me to love you? I’d change it if I could, but somehow, my heart’s not getting the message.”

Shit, James thinks. He never wanted to make Sirius feel like he was at fault when it was James who ruined everything by catching feelings and panicking as soon as he realised them. 

Taking the silence for a response, Sirius sighs. “Look, I’m sorry it’s making you uncomfortable. Believe me, I’m doing everything I can to stop myself from feeling this way. Just — don’t push me away. If this is about that stupid deal, you can call it off. Dae other people. You’ve done more than enough for me. I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you want it to end.”

“Don’t stop,” James blurts out. “Don’t stop feeling everything you just said.”

“What?”

“It’s just that — I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Words spill out before James can think, and he’s hoping somehow Sirius will be able to understand what he’s trying to get at. “I don’t want to fake a relationship with you, because it’s getting too much.”

Sirius inhales sharply and nods, a little frantic. “Okay, yeah, okay. Totally. I understand. We don’t have to do this anymore. Consider yourself back on the market.”

“That’s not what I meant.” James can feel the frustration simmering under his skin. Unconsciously, his hands reach to grasp at the closest part of Sirius — his ankles — and he uses them to pull Sirius closer. A distant memory flickers into his mind of the night when they had last sat like this, legs intertwined. Mouths millimetres apart, cheeks flushed, breath hot and heavy. 

“I kept a distance from you because I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way,” James says quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt you or myself, but I guess I failed anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t I feel the same way? Wait, how do you feel—”

“I’m in love with you, okay?” James says. It comes out louder than he meant for it to. There’s shocked silence on Sirius’ end as James’ words hang between them. James takes a deep breath. 

“I’ve been in love with you since fifth year,” he continues at a normal volume. “Lily and I had that Transfiguration project and I learned throughout that I don’t see her as anything more than a friend. The flirting had become a habit by then, I think, so I didn’t see it until we had to work together. It’s nothing like the way we click with each other. So yeah, I guess I love you. Too. Holy shit, you love me back, Si.”

Sirius laughs, a breathless little thing before his lips are on James’ and the rest of the world fades. Before, when Sirius had kissed him, James had felt like he was drowning, so wrapped in the scent and feel of his best friend that the emotions were overwhelming. Now, with the knowledge that his feelings were reciprocated, he feels like he’s floating, safe in Sirius’ embrace.

“I dreamed about this for ages,” Sirius murmurs as he sits back. “That’s the whole reason I started this whole fake dating thing. I didn’t think I’d have much luck asking you out properly, so I pulled this to, ah, test the waters, if you will.”

James snickers. “So all of this was what, a free trial?”

“Yes,” Sirius murmurs against his neck. James’ breathing hitches. “And I’m feeling very satisfied with the service thus far. But I can’t leave a fair review without testing out all the features. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh — ah, fuck — what did you have in mind?” James can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but pant as Sirius works his fingers into his hair and pulls, kissing him hard the whole time. When Sirius trails a hand down to cup James’ arse through his trousers, James feels his heart stop. 

There’s a wicked grin on Sirius’ face. “Now that I’ve tasted you up here, I kind of want to taste you down there too. See if the tastes match. Or something. I don’t know, I just want to blow you right now.”

James squeaks. “Like, right here? Aren’t we going too fast?”

Sirius sombers. “Jamie,” he whispers. “I’ve been wanting you since we were thirteen. If anything, I think we’re going too slow. But if you’re not ready, I can wait. I’ve waited four years for you, and I will wait four million more if that’s what you want.”

James nods quickly. “I want you too. So much. I’ve been going crazy these past few months trying not to jump into your lap and snog you senseless.”

Sirius smiles. It’s a soft, little thing, and James knows it’s meant only for him. “What’s keeping you now?”

James ducks his head with a blush. “I — can we go to our dorms first?”

“Oh, Prongs,” Sirius says with a shake of his head. “One day I’ll introduce you to the high of doing this in public.”

“You’re such an exhibitionist. No wonder you’re starting a modelling gig,” James chides as he links their hands together. It’s such an endearing sight that he can’t help but lift Sirius’ hands to his mouth and shower his fingers and knuckles with kisses. Sirius’ steps stutter and James looks up, delighted. 

“I was put on the spot,” Sirius says defensively. “I didn’t expect her to start asking questions. I just wanted her to give it to you, not interrogate me.”

“You could’ve just given it to me yourself, like a normal person.”

“We’re anything but normal. Anyway, I was too nervous about your reaction.”

“Touché. Still, it would’ve been loads better coming from you.”

“Then allow me to make it up to you.” Sirius tugs on James’ hand until he stops. He reaches up to frame James’ face as he gently presses their lips together. James isn’t sure how much time passes before they pull apart. As they lean their foreheads on each other, Sirius’ lips quirk. 

“Happy birthday, Jamie. I love you.”

James smiles and tucks in a strand of hair coming loose from Sirius’ bun. “I love you too.”

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 5

Part 4 | part 6

↝a/n: I don't want to hear a single thing about the French being wrong. I had to use Google so blame it. Anyway, sorry this is late, been very busy and been stressing.

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝ Warning: slightly proofread. Possible spoilers, Canon events, Google translated French, pinning

↝⎙ 8.12.23

Robin couldn't help but admire you as you caught your breath.

Writing a decent essay in French wasn't going to be easy, which is why this is the 3rd day in a row Robin had invited you over after school to finish the partnered project.

To be honest, the essay was long forgotten. You two were just going through phrases in French at this point. Well, Robin was teaching you more French. You just couldn't wrap your head around it, no matter how hard you tried.

After you were paying so much attention to her mouth and the way it moved, you couldn't help but find it hilarious, and in turn, Robin began laughing too.

It was probably around 9 by now, and you two had barely any of the paper done, but you kept wanting to hear her talk. For educational purposes, obviously.

“tu es belle.” (you're beautiful) Robin wasn't worried about you knowing what she was saying. It honestly felt freeing to be able to admit things openly, with you not knowing what it was she was saying.

She adored how you looked at her so confused, with your eyebrows furrowed. Her hand was practically shaking from not being able to lean forward and wipe the wrinkled skin away.

“tu es magnifique aujourd'hui" (you look beautiful today) She kept teasing you.

“Are you going to tell me what you're saying?”

“No, I don't think I will.”

You smiled, basking in how comfortable you felt around her at that moment. You wish it could stay like this. Neither of you broke eye contact as she continued, “Tes yeux brillent si joliment aujourd'hui. Le ciel nocturne devrait être jaloux.” (Your eyes are shining so beautifully today. The night sky should be jealous.)

“I should probably pay more attention in class.” You chuckled, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the cover of the notebook. Robin was back to admiring you and your blushing cheeks.

“You're cute.” Robin's smile dropped; her whole being scared of what she just said… out loud…to the person she'd fancied for what felt like forever. She wanted to disappear right then and there.

“What?” You glanced up from your notebook, still smiling- as if you hadn't heard what she had said.

“I said you look like a fruit.” Pushing away the feeling of wanting to kick herself for her stupidity on the situation, the choice of words had her internally spiraling. What kind of answer was that? You certainly do not look anything like a fruit.

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Well I'm sleep-deprived.” She pulled her blanket closer to her, wrapping it around her body to find any comfort. “And it's tu ressembles à un fruit.”

After a moment, you nodded, before standing up and gathering your stuff. “It's getting late.”

“Yeah-yeah, uh,” She flung the blanket off, standing to help you gather everything sprawled across her bed and floor. “I guess we lost track of time.”

“Yeah.” Flinging your backpack over your shoulder, you pointed at her door. “I can show myself out. You need to be getting ready for bed-wouldn't want to keep you up any later.”

“A-alright. Yeah, bye. Be careful.” She stayed standing in that spot even after you closed her bedroom door.

She was not sleeping tonight; she already knew that much. She'd stay up all night thinking about you. And how you looked when you smiled or laughed. A joyous sight and sound, really.

Your leg shook from nerves.

“Can you stop? You're shaking the car.” Nancy glared at you from the rearview mirror.

Digging your nails into your thigh, you stopped them from shaking anymore. “Sorry.”

Robin glanced back, noting your nervousness. “It's going to be okay.” Her voice was barely over a whisper.

“What if it's not? Two of our friends have already died because of this Vecna creep. We have no way to contact Mike or any of the Byers. What if something is happening up there too? I mean, they should've called by now. Mike promised he would call when he got up there-”

“We haven't been home, y/n.”

“I was! He didn't call all yesterday.”

“He's having fun with his friend and girlfriend. Calm down.”

Robin's eyes went back and forth between you and Nance. You were usually calm, or made it seem that way. Ever since you woke up in a frenzy, you had seemed on edge.

“What if he's not?” You whispered one last time, as Nancy pulled up to the school.

“We don't have time to think about that right now. Come on.”

"It was here. Right here.” Max was almost hysterical as she kept repeating the same thing over and over since you ran into the school. She kept talking about a grandfather clock in the wall.

If you were anyone else, you would be calling her crazy, maybe even making a phone call to the nearest psych ward.

“A grandfather clock?” Nancy almost seemed bored as she asked.

“It was so real and then, when I got closer, suddenly I just… I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a trance or something.” Dusting spoke, “Exactly like Eddie said happened to Chrissy.” A cold hill went down your spine, causing goosebumps to make your arm hair stand up. Folding your arms over your chest, you continued to pay attention.

Max turned around. “That's not even the bad part.”

"Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Miss Kelley for help.” You looked at the files on the desk. “Uh, they both were having headaches-bad headaches that wouldn't go away. And then-then the nightmares. Trouble sleeping. They'd wake up in a cold sweat. And then they started seeing things. Bad things…from their past.” The desk slowly creaked as you leaned against it, giving Max your full attention. “And these visions-- they just kept getting worse and worse, until eventually…everything ended.” Your eyes shot down to the ground.

What were you to do about all of this? This is too much for this group that consisted of teens and young adults. Before, you had El. But now, she was in California, without any powers.

Robin's voice broke you out of your thoughts that were running a mile a second. “Vecna's curse.”

“Chrissy's headache started a week ago.”

“She kept asking for medicine almost every time I saw her.” She had taken nearly 2/3 of your medicine on your side table.

“Fred's started 6 days ago.” The blood from you biting your lip tasted salty and like metal. “I've been having them for 5 days.”

The air in the room became stale, almost like the air fell flat. “I don't know how long I have. All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock, so,” Max's breath became uneven, “Looks like I'm gonna die tomorrow.”

A loud click made you jump and turned to where the sound came from.

“Stay here.” Steve looked at you guys, before walking towards the door. Before he opened it, he grabbed the lamp.

Not listening, you all stood and walked after him, through the dark school halls.

You could hear his uneven breathing from where you were. Or maybe that was you. You couldn't really tell at this point.

The sound continued as you walked behind Steve. It clattered, almost sounding like rapid running.

It grew louder until something came around the corner. Everyone screamed, Steve held the lamp up, going to strike, as your arms went up in the air, flashlight clattering to the floor as you turned on your heels, going to grab the nearest person. No matter how much you tried to move, your feet stayed in place, causing you to double over and fall onto your knees, bringing the person with you.

“It's me!”

“Lucas?!”

“It's me!” Lucas looked as if he were about to cry. You would too if you had nearly gotten beaten to death by a lamp.

“Holy shit!” You fell back onto your butt, facing the scene.

“Jesus!” Steve yelled, bringing the lamp back down to his side. “What is wrong with you, Sinclair?!”

Lucas tried to catch his breath with his hands on his hips, nearly doubling over. "I'm sorry."

Robin, who you had taken down with you, stood and held her hand out to help you up. You held up your finger, “I need a second.” You might've peed yourself a little.

“I could've taken you out with this lamp!” Steve shook the lamp in his grip, furious.

“Sorry, guys.” Lucas continued to pant, “Sorry. I was… I was biking for eight miles.”

Grabbing Robin's hand, you let her pull you up.

“Give me a second. Shit.” Lucas continued to pant through his words, “We've got a code red.”

“What?”

“Dustin,” He walked forward, “I've been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they've gone, like, totally off the rails. They're trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is.” He spoke as fast as he could, while also trying to breathe. “You're in terrible danger.”

“Alright. Yeah, that definitely sucks, but we've got bigger problems than Jason right now.” Dustin looked back and Max, Lucas following him.

After Nancy and Robin came up with the plan about being Ruth and Rose, your leg went back to shaking, and your teeth went back to biting into your lip, taking chunks out.

While everyone was getting a bit of shut-eye last night, you were wide awake. There wasn't really a thought that took up more space in your head than the other 10 thousand. Every time you tried to shut your eyes, Chrissy's face was painted on the back of your eyelids. Occasionally, you could hear her screams when you tried to tune out Steve's snoring. Max hadn't gone to bed, she stayed sitting at the desk, writing. What, you hadn't gotten a clue.

Currently, Steve was following Nancy after he had been stuck on babysitting duty yet again.

“Nancy, you're outta your mind if you think I'm babysitting again.” Coming out of your room, you pulled the new, clean clothes closer to your body and walked after him into her room.

“Okay, first of all, they're not babies anymore. And Max is in real danger.”

Steve scoffed at her as you plopped on her bed, wrinkling her made bed.

“She needs people around her.”

“I know. But why does it always have to be me?”

“Y/n is here too.” Nancy reminded, pointing at you.

“Oh my god, you have a Tom Cruise poster.” Robin walked into the room, going straight for the poster and side table. “You have a Tom Cruise poster.” She turned and smirked at Nancy, who was going through her closet.

“That's…old. It's just…"

Robin laughed before digging into the table,

“Can you please not touch anything?”

You leaned over, looking at whatever Robin was going through.

“I just- I can't do anything here, Nance. Maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude. I dunno. I could turn on my…my charm.”

“Not the charm we need.”

“Ouch.”

“No, I just,” Nancy sighed, stepping away from the closet. You followed Robin with your eyes as she stood and moved to the dresser. “I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay? This is a lifelong student of the world. If we're going to win him over, we're gonna have to convince him we are too.”

Robin opened the music box that laid on top of the dresser, music softly played as Nancy continued to talk, softening the blow. “That, like him, we are true academic scholars.”

“Holy shit.” Robin whispered, turning around to show the music box. “There's a little ballerina in here.” She bit her lip.

Looking away, you tried to hide the pink on your cheeks. She was so cute.

Steve began nodding his head, turning back to Nancy. “Academic scholar. She's giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin closed the box, putting it back.

“No, but…” Robin scoffed, turning around. “She will.”

Nance held up a pink dress.

“Oh, please tell me that you're joking.”

"They're not answering.”

Sighing, you slammed the phone back into the wall.

“They're probably out.”

“You said that for the last 4 calls. It's been over an hour.”

Dustin walked over, “Y/n, Mike is most likely out having fun with El and Will. Please, calm down.”

“Yeah,” Sighing again, you plopped back into the couch, "Yeah, you're probably right."

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

• My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]