#if i have to go through today without a nap i might combust

[the-kipsabian]

i have less than three hours of sleep in me lets go

[reluctant-mandalore]

The Boba Fett Babysitting Archives: Naptime

Boba Fett struggles to put the chaotic and energetic child in his care down for a nap. 

Warnings: fluff, child care, no reader, uncle boba babysitting, not beta read

Word Count: 2953

Pairing: No romantic pairing. Just uncle boba and grogu bonding. 

a/n: So I thought about doing the Din part in it’s own separate part buuut I decided that it wasn’t too big of a deal just to have it here as a mini continuation. Sooo enjoy! Boba needs a nap y’all. 

Boba Fett, arguably the best bounty hunter in the Galaxy, was capable and skilled in many things. He could pilot a ship without skipping a beat, shoot targets with pinpoint accuracy, and of course there were no questions about his abilities in terms of bounty hunting. He was good at what he did and that was a fact, but him taking care of a child was another story completely.

The bounty hunter had been struggling to get the child, his precious nephew, to take a nap for what felt like hours now. It wasn’t as if the kid was throwing a nasty fuss or anything, but rather, the issue was the abundance of untamed energy the little creature seemed to have at the moment.

Boba was having a difficult time trying to manage the bursts of excitement that the child had possessed today. Finding himself struggling to get the little one to even sit still long enough so he could be tucked in properly. Clearly the sugary cookies that Boba had let him eat as an afternoon snack was turning out to be a bad idea.

“Where’s Fennec when you need her?” He had grumbled more to himself than anything, wishing that his friend was here to help him instead of off chasing the bounty he had sent her after. He wasn’t sure how, but Fennec had turned out to be great at getting the kid to go down for a nap, no matter the type of day he was having. “Why do you listen to her but not me?”

The child had only let out some happy gibberish at the man’s words. Soon allowing more giggles to leave him, as he reached out from the crib towards his favourite uncle. His little hands making grabby motions at the toys which the man had taken away not too long ago.

“Oh no you don’t.” He had said, soon turning around quickly to go put the toys away, as the child had let out a surprised sound while watching, “It’s naptime not playtime. These toys are going in the chest until after your nap.”

The child had instantly frowned at hearing Boba’s reasoning behind taking the toys. His ears drooping and eyes wavering with a pleading look that usually held the ability to melt even the toughest of people's heart. Boba had long since gotten used to that look though, and instead of crumbling under the child’s gaze, he had put away the toys. The chest closing afterwards with an audible click that had only made the kid pout more.

The disappointed child had let out a displeased sound and Boba had felt a ping of guilt tugging at his heart at the sight of him. He didn’t like having to be the one to take the child’s fun away. There was a reason the little one had enjoyed his time spent with the bounty hunter after all. He had made it quite apparent that he was the fun uncle, and honestly, if Boba himself wasn’t so tired he might even let the child skip the afternoon nap. Unfortunately for the kid, the bounty hunter was getting old, and even he needed a quick nap from time to time.

“Grogu...” The child’s ears had perked again at hearing the bounty hunter speak his name, an air of hope finding itself within his round depths, “Lay down, it’s time to get some sleep.”

The excitement that the small creature had showed had died once more at hearing the man’s words. The sight of his frown this time causing a chuckle to leave Boba as he patted the child’s head fondly. He had tucked him in soon after, making sure the blanket was snug and comfortable around him, as he spoke soft encouragements of sleep to the kid. Whispers of promised fun to happen after their own respective naps dancing quietly within the small room.

Once satisfied with seeing that Grogu had begun settling down and drifting off to sleep, Boba had left the room quietly. Shutting the door extra carefully, as if he was afraid it would combust at the even the tiniest of movement, before making his way to the throne room. His own yawn escaping his lips at the thought of finally being able to get in some rest before the child awoke again.

Entering into his famed throne room, the bounty hunter had found himself stunned in place at the sight before him. A pool of confusion finding itself settled in his gut, as he almost did a double take at seeing the child he had just put down for a nap now sitting on his throne. The man had blinked in surprise at first, shocked to see the kid just casually sat there—giggling and laughing—instead of asleep in his own bed.

“Who put you here?” He had asked in disbelief, still not quite able to grasp the fact that the child had managed to get to the throne room ahead of him, and without him having had noticed. Clearly someone had to have helped him. There was no other way the kid could have gotten here otherwise.

Gorgu had only cood happily up at his uncle, clearly not willing, or even able, to voice who had decided to remove him from the comfort of his sheets. Boba had felt himself sigh, a tired grumble leaving him, as he scooped the child into his arms once more. Soon making his way back to the kid’s room as the little one squirmed and spoke in gibberish to him the entire way. His little attempts of reasoning against naptime falling deaf on the man carrying him off to bed.

“It’s naptime, ok?” Boba had stressed again to the child, an odd sense of desperation finding itself embedded in his voice, “Grogu you need to sleep.”

The child had let out a disappointed sound again, his ears lowering at hearing his uncle's suggestion, as he was once more tucked into the soft sheets. A hum had left Boba as he did this,  and he made sure that the blankets were just a little more snug around the child this time. Before he soothingly rubbed his fingers along the little creature’s large ear in a calming manner.

“Rest up kid.”

Once again Boba had left the child in his bed, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he made his back to the throne room. His own excitement for a quick nap obvious in each step he took as he nearly skipped through the hallway. The few remaining servants that day passing each other weird looks at seeing this, but not voicing their concern in fear of how the man would react. Though frankly the Mandalorian didn’t really care what they thought of his clear excitement. He just wanted to go take a nice long nap.

Soon, he had once again entered the throne room, the joy he felt for a nap dying though as he stopped in place once more in shock at seeing the child sat on the decorative chair just as last time. He had even pinched himself wondering if this was all just some sort of strange dream, though the sound of the happy babbles and coos coming from the child still sat before him said otherwise.

“What in the maker… how did you get here?”

The child had only giggled at the bounty hunters question. His hands waving up excitedly as he spoke in chattered gibberish to the man. The smile the child wore probably the brightest he had seen it all day, and if he wasn’t already so exhausted, he was sure he’d have a matching one tugging at his lips.

Boba had just let out a tired sigh though, shaking his head rather fondly, as he picked up the child and held him in his arms again. “Alright enough games, time to get some sleep ad’ika.”

The bounty hunter had turned around swiftly after his words. Once again making his way back to the child’s room for what felt like the hundredth time that day, as the little creature squirmed in his arms. His whines and pleading babbles against the dreaded nap to come increasing the closer they got to their destination. Although Boba was unrelenting in his goal of putting the energetic child down for a rest.

Most times he would have given up on the idea of the child napping by this point. Boba just didn’t simply have the energy or time to be wasting on making the kid do things he clearly didn’t want to do and it was a known fact that he liked to twist the rules. He’d let the kid get away with and do things the other Mandalorian would never even think of allowing. Today was not one of those days though, and all Boba wanted to do was get the child to sleep so he could get his own nap in.

Arriving at the child’s room, the bounty hunter had once again gone to work at putting the kid to rest. Tucking him within the fluffed sheets and running a smoothing touch along his ear just as he did last time to help the kid relax. He had even quietly hummed a gentle tune he recalled from his own childhood, hoping that the soft notes and murmurs would help with bringing the child closer to the brink of sleep. Then, when he was certain the kid would not be following him, he left once more and made his way back to the throne room.

“Oh you gotta be kidding me.”

It seems Boba would not be getting a break today when it came to this, because of course when he had entered into the throne room again he was met with the sight of the kid happily seated on his decorative throne. He’d have to take the child to his room again, and hopefully this time the little one would stay where he belonged. Otherwise the bounty hunter was sure he’d end up losing his sanity.

Unfortunately for Boba though, this sequence of events had repeated three more times before he finally decided to call it quits. Now finding himself slumped on the throne with the child rocking and giggling within his arms. He didn’t have the energy to take the kid back to his room by this point, nor did he have the will to figure out how the little creature had kept managing to get here without any help. As far as he was concerned, those things were for after nap Boba to figure out.

“You’re quite a handful when you want to be, aren’t ya?” The bounty hunter had said in between some yawns, his eyes threatening to slip shut behind the helmet which shielded his features from view as he continued speaking, “Always causing some sort of trouble for me.”

Grogu had smiled sweetly up at the man while he listened to him talk, soon reaching towards the chin of his helmet and holding onto it fondly. Another shrill of giggles leaving the child, as his sides were tickled by Boba, who only chuckled tiredly at the sound of the small creature laughing energetically in his arms.

“Well if you won’t take a nap in your room then you can take one here with me.” Boba had said before settling himself more comfortably into the throne, and letting his eyes finally shut themselves completely, “I think we both could use a nap, don’t you?”

The child had frowned and allowed his ears to lower as he peered up to the bounty hunter. Seeing how serious his uncle was, he had begun to squirm in the man’s arms again, hoping to free himself and escape the nap which he had been avoiding all afternoon. Although, he had given up after a brief while at discovering that the hold on him wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The small huff that left the kid in the moment making the still awake bounty hunter smile beneath the helmet. As he shifted his weight so he could hold the child closer into his chest and sink them both further into the throne all while another yawn had left him.

The little one had cooed out his own yawn at the sound of Boba’s. Trying to shake away his own need for sleep before finding himself relaxing more in the man’s hold. The small child had then nuzzled himself tightly into the bounty hunter, allowing his head and ears to tuck into the curve of his arms. His eyes now beginning to flutter as his sudden tiredness tugged at his young mind.

“Seems like you’re more tired than what you’re letting on.” Boba had laughed quietly before opening his eyes again to glance down at the child, who had only hummed back quietly in reply. “Finally ready for that nap?”

This time the only reply Boba has received was a soft snore from the child. The sound of which had brought a feeling of relief to flow through him. He had did a quick check of the time, humming at the knowledge that they still had a few hours before Din was to arrive back to pick up the child. Surely they would both be awake by that time. So, with this in mind, he had once again closed his eyes. Feeling his tiredness finally overtake him and send him to join the child in a well deserved sleep.

----

“Boba?”

The other Mandalorian had called as he had first entered the palace, his voice ringing out into the wide space and echoing back without a solid reply. The lack of a response causing him to take a look around the open and empty area in bewilderment at its strange emptiness. Now finding himself even more confused and concerned at how strangely quiet the palace seemed that day.

“Where are you two?” He had found himself asking out loud, still unsure of where exactly the other hunter had disappeared off to with his foundling and hoping to hear some sort of reply, “Are you two alright?”

Din had once again received no answer from a single soul. Only finding a long drawn out silence in place of his words. There weren’t even any servants around for him to ask for any help in finding the other bounty hunter. It was honestly so strange and worrying to see the palace so devoid of life.

The Mandalorian had already known something was off when Boba hadn’t greeted his arrival in the docking area with the child like he usually did. The lack of anyone else being around had made this concern of his even worse though, and the longer he went without finding anyone he had found himself on the verge of panicking. This had easily made him become worried beyond belief and he had quickly found himself practically running to the throne room. Hoping that once he got there he would finally find the other bounty hunter and his foundling safe within its confines.

When finally entering the room Din had found himself freezing in place almost instantly at the sight laid out before him. His breathing heavy and ragged as he found another surge of confusion and surprise pooling inside of him. His mind trying its best to function correctly as it slowly came up to speed with what he was looking at during this moment.

“Would you look at that…” He had said in a soft voice, just barely above a whisper as to not disturb them both and allowing a small smile to cross his lips, “Must have had a tiring day.”

The Mandalorian had definitely found the both of them, something which had both relieved and relaxed him at seeing them safe. The two were both clearly in a sleeping state, with Boba lounging out on the throne and the child tucked closely into his chest. Snores left both the sleeping figures, though the bounty hunters were deeper and more gruff, filling up the large throne room easily.

No wonder no one was here, not a soul would even dare to think of risking waking them up and having to deal with the famed bounty hunters wraith.

Din’s smile had suddenly widened, and he let out a chuckle at the sight of them both cuddled together on the throne. He wasn’t used to seeing the other Mandalorian in such a carefree state. Boba always seemed to have a certain edge to him, even while in the presence of the child, but at this moment he found it hard to believe that it was the same man sitting in front of him.

He supposed being the uncle of a chaotic little jedi in training would do that to you though. He knew first hand just how tiring looking after Grogu could be after all, and he didn’t doubt for a second that the little creature had managed to do something to make the other man seem so exhausted.

The Mandalorian did briefly think about waking them, but finding that he didn’t have the heart to do so, he had decided to leave them be for the moment. He had some work to do in the nearby town anyway, and there wasn’t really any harm in letting them rest for a little longer.

So, with this in mind, Din had chosen to leave the room just as quietly as he had entered. Only turning to look over at the two sleeping again briefly before leaving. Another smile resting on his lips as he whispered a soft farewell to the uncle and nephew enjoying their naptime together on the throne.

“Sweet dreams you two.”

[greenninjagal-blog]

Loop Number Three Hundred Twelve

Hello who wants a quick one shot about Time Loops!

Summary: Patton is having a really bad day, and Virgil and Janus might just have a fix. He just wishes he found them three hundred loops ago.

Word Count: 5453

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Janus is folding origami snakes when Virgil finds him. 

Which, in itself, is not new or unusual. Janus has been making origami creatures since before Virgil had ever met him: cutting perfect squares of papers, folding along invisible lines, creating something new from the boringness. Some people like making tiny stars, but Janus turns squares of paper into pocket sized friends. Some of Virgils’s favorite presents are books in which he found little purple and gold paper spiders tucked between the pages, or the cranes that he unfolded to find little sweet and sappy messages for him, or when he was emptying out his school bag and found butterflies hidden in the depths, left there with care and love and waiting to be discovered on a rainy day.

Janus folds origami and Virgil keeps every single one he’s ever gotten his hands on-- sometimes even going as far as to dig the few Janus recycled out of the bin and keep them in his collection.

So the origami isn’t necessarily new or weird or confusing. 

Finding him behind the school building, cutting class to fold them is.

Janus is, despite his outward appearance and his claims to the otherwise, a huge nerd. Virgil finds that adorable about him: the way he gets excited to go to school and learn something new, the bounce in his step when he was heading towards his psychology class, the rumbling of his words when he forgot to take a breath while describing history to him. He’s a nerd who reads autobiographies with crappy romance novel covers strapped on them and begs Virgil to watch the new Netflix documentaries with him.

When they had been seven, Janus had been very adamant about being a host on the History Channel. Virgil had been interested as long as he got to be the guy that went out and found Mothman to invite on to Janus’s show. 

(Sometimes Virgil finds himself missing the simplicity of being seven-years-old and knowing what he wants to do with his life.)

Still Janus isn’t the type to cut class usually. Playing hookie was Virgil’s game, not his. But Janus hadn’t shown up to meet him outside his locker at the break between their classes, and Virgil had made the decision that locating Janus took priority over Personal Finance. 

 Its nice outside, far nicer than it has any right to be. The sun is shining, with just enough heat to make Virgil consider taking off his jacket (he doesn’t), a breeze carries through the air playing with his bangs, and the bells had just rang so everyone is in class and not outside. There’s barely any noise out here: a zombie apocalypse  picturesque scene. It used to unnerve him, but now it just gives him peace of mind.

Behind the school is his fifth place to check, right behind: the far corner of the library that Janus likes to power nap in during lunch, the stairwell to the roof that is supposed to be locked but they’d jimmied open last year, Janus’s actual class where his seat was empty and several kids glanced at Virgil as he had scurried by, and the parking lot where Virgil checked to make sure that Janus hadn’t just driven away and left him in this hell alone without even a text message goodbye. 

Janus is, in fact, still at the school, sitting in grass against the wall of the school that faces the parking lot. If Virgil hadn’t been looking for him, he might have mistaken him for a dark shrub or the Art Club's newest modern art installation. His bag is next to him, half his books spilling out into the lawn and at least a whole tree’s worth of folded paper around him. The piles of origami snakes remind Virgil of noodles, a mixture of colors and then twice as many in just plain white. 

“Hey,” Virgil says, approaching slowly in case this is one of those times when Janus wants to be alone more than he wants to feel alone. 

Janus folds another crease with the edge of his thumb nail and throws his sloppily made friend into the pile with the others. There’s a stack of pre-cut paper next to him, but it's all loose leaf paper. Which meant that he had folded his way through his stash of actual origami colored paper, which meant that he had been doing this since a lot longer than before second block, like Virgil feared.

Janus sighs thumping his head back against the brick walls and picks up another sheet. Virgil takes that as a sign to sit down next to him. He drops his bag off at his feet and reaches around the assortment of pins (Xmen, Marvel, gay flag, banned books week, one from a video game he liked the art of but had never played, etc) to unzip the smallest pocket. He pulls out another stack of the thin paper in an assortment of colors and places it on top of Janus’s current stack.

“So,” Virgil says, picking a snake off the ground. “Wanna talk about it?”

Janus flips the snake over and begins the process of folding the tail, ruthlessly. “Do I want to talk about it,” He echoes sourly, pressing each fold like it was a matter of life and death. “No, I do not want to talk about it. Because its stupid and a waste of time and I shouldn’t care but I still do and you have so many better things to do than listen to me whine about Patton Hart, yet again!”

Janus folds the head down and then stars into the empty eyes with a glare.

Virgil points his own snake at Janus and wiggles it a bit, “If its bothering you this much, then it can’t be stupid. And besides I love hearing about how much you hate Patton Hart. What did he do this time?”

“I don’t hate…” Janus lets out a sigh, “He didn’t do anything. In fact he didn’t even show up to class today. I heard a couple sophomores say he was acting funny earlier so I assume he went home early.”

Virgil frowns at that, trying to think back to the morning. He’d been running late and preoccupied with a Spanish test that he had forgotten he had first block, but he does remember seeing Roman and Patton in the halls. They hadn’t been holding hands like usual, which is probably why it stuck in Virgil’s head. They were the most lovey-dovey couple in the whole school: holding hands, kissing, flamboyant declarations of love... Virgil has nightmares about the way that Roman had asked Patton to Prom Junior year and had made Janus swear that if he ever plans on taking Virgil to a dance, he wouldn’t do it with glitter, the marching band, and in front of the whole school.

Patton had also looked different, Virgil remembers. Less cheery, more despondent. He had a smile on his face, but it looked forced and his eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t listening to anything at all.

Which, okay, fair. Roman tended to say the same things every day but phrased them differently. There were really only oh-so-many ways to say the words “I love you” and Roman had used up all of them in freshman year.

“So he wasn’t there,” Virgil says, shrugs, and takes a moment of silence to hope that Patton is getting some well needed sleep: Patton is one of those guys that just...finds a way to be involved with everything. Bake sales, choir, poetry club, talent show, office runner, treasurer of the student council-- if there’s something anyone needs to get done, Patton probably can do it. Not to mention he’s the nicest person Virgil has ever met. He honestly sees the good in people and its a shame that he’s dating Roman, because otherwise he and Janus would have invited him into their relationship a while ago.

(Roman isn’t exactly someone Janus or Virgil could stand on a weekly basis, much less daily. Virgil is pretty sure if Roman ever tried any romantic shit that he pulls on Patton, on Virgil he’ll spontaneously combust. Janus gets hives from being in close proximity to the gooey lovefest that Roman brings around any time he opens his mouth. And of course, Roman isn’t the type to share anything.)

((Ninety percent of their relationship these days is locking eyes while Roman did something and fake gagging like the mature adults they were.))

“What’s the big de--” Virgil stops, “Wait, isn’t debate today?”

“And take a guess who was my partner,” Janus summarizes. He tosses the snake to the ground and picks up another sheet of paper. “He...The Dragon Witch immediately failed me because he didn’t….and I couldn’t…”

He messes up the fold because his fingers are shaking too much. Virgil gently reaches out and takes the paper from his fingertips. It floats down to join the other snakes, and Virgil gives Janus’s hands a squeeze. 

There’s a welt of anger in his chest, bubbling up in a nice simmer. He hates the Dragon Witch, although he’s never had her class or even knows her real name (Roman had coined the title in freshman year back when he had been a benchwarmer for the football team and it had caught on until the whole school used it). She’s known for being generally awful to every student that came in, a little unhinged, and even her own daughter-- a girl in the grade below them-- agrees that nobody wants to be in her class. Unfortunately, despite the many protests held by small pockets of students, the Dragon Witch has tenure and the school board’s stance is “if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it”. Ergo, she still lives on this plane of existence and Virgil thinks about egging her car often. Probably too often.

“Its stupid,” Janus repeats and the cavity where Virgil’s heart should be aches a little for him, “I know she’s had it out for me. Ever since that first day when I pointed out all the books on the syllabus were written by rich white men. But it was just… I felt really good about this one, Vee.” 

Virgil knows this. Janus had been practically vibrating since the assignment had been given out. He’d gone above and beyond with his research for the topic-- something about selflessness that had gone straight over Virgil’s head when Janus had been talking about it. Patton hadn’t even been that bad of a partner, Janus had said, despite never having time to practice for it. They had exchanged numbers and texted details and notes to one another all week.

If Virgil hadn’t spent most of the afternoons lying next to Janus playing League of Legends and listening to Janus’s black pen scratch out preparation notes, he might have been jealous of how much attention Janus had been giving Patton. (and vise versa.)

“We were going to win,” Janus says softly. “And then Patton decided to just not show the fuck up! Why can’t I count on anyone but you? Why must I suffer in a world full of idiots?”

“Hey, at least he’s cute,” Virgil says.

“At least he’s cute,” Janus agrees, resignedly. “Do you think he’s going to break up with Roman?”

Virgil shrugs, “Do you want to ask him to join us if he does?”

“I would never pass up an opportunity to spite Roman like that,” Janus says, which is actually code for “I would never pass up an opportunity to dote on Patton and Virgil, do you think he’ll let us paint his nails, I have the perfect shade of blue to match his shoelaces--” 

(They’ve had this conversation at least once every season since Janus had caught Virgil sighing at the smaller boy in the halls midway through freshman year.)

Janus wiggles his hands from Virgil’s and picks up the unfinished snake but its softer now, less angry and more care. When he completes it, he points it at Virgil and offers a guilty half smile.

“Sorry for making you miss class.” 

Virgil wants to laugh because really that was the last thing on his mind right now. He shuffles through the snakes on the ground picking out his favorites to add to his collection. “Nah, its cool. You can just do my taxes and budgeting in the future and we’ll call it even. What are you gonna do with all of these?”

Janus hums, looking at all of them, “Maybe we can hide them around school to confuse people.”

“Can we write “you’re next” in a red pen on the inside of them?” Virgil asks with a grin, “like some horror movie shit?”

“Whatever you desire, darling,” Janus says and Virgil is incredibly grateful that he’s in love with his best friend. Virgil doesn’t usually count himself as lucky, but Janus had to be some kind of miracle: a person who understood Virgil the way that no one else ever bothered to. Janus has the type of laughter that makes everyone else want to laugh as well, the type of smile that begs for mischief, the type of loyalty that reassures Virgil no matter what happens they have each other’s backs.

Also he’s pretty, and Virgil likes staring at pretty things.

Janus leans forward and gives him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You missed,” Virgil says with a stupid ass smile, because he’s stupidly in love and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Janus rolls his eyes very fondly and leans in again, until Virgil can see every shade of brown and green in his mismatched eyes, until he can feel Janus’s breath on his face, until Virgil loses track of the nanometers between them. Virgil’s eyes are half closed already, anticipating how the rest of their newly established free time is going to be spent and not feeling a speck of embarrassment or guilt about it--

And then he sees the movement out of the corner of his eyes and freezes up. He’s certain without looking that it is a teacher and oh god they were going to get expelled for something. There’s too much stuff around them-- their bags, the millions of snakes, their own bodies-- and even if they left everything there they’d surely get found out from that stuff, and then the school would call his mom and Virgil did not want to have that conversation with her again. 

But then he does look and its not a teacher at all. Virgil blinks, once, twice to make sure he’s seeing things correctly.

“Virgil?” Janus says, still several centimetres away from kissing him and obviously aware of how Virgil had tensed to high hell.

“I thought you said that Patton went home sick,” Virgil says absently.

Janus sits back, following his line of sight to the corner of the building where-- sure enough-- Patton Hart was walking without a care in the entire world. He was dressed differently today than Virgil remembered him ever dressing: the memories of his polo and his cardigan give way to the reality of sweatpants and a soft sweater that cannot be comfortable in the heat of the day. Virgil tries to remember if that’s what Patton had been wearing earlier and… yeah it was. From this distance Virgil can’t tell the look on his face, but he doesn’t look like he’s worried at all.

He’s walking with a purpose. And that purpose looks angry. 

“Does Patton have a car?” Janus asks.

“I don’t...think so…” Virgil says tracking Patton’s progress across the lawn.

“Then who’s keys does he have in his hand?” Janus says not entirely rhetorical.

With barely a nod between the two of them, they scoop all the paper snakes into Virgil’s bag and take off after him.

Its extremely weird, Virgil thinks. Because its so quiet that their footsteps sound like slaps, and they have to duck around a red truck to avoid Patton’s glance back. Janus crouches delicately, slinking between the cars and Virgil wastes a moment watching how gracefully he moves. 

He’s like water flowing, controlled and effortless and an undercurrent of power. Virgil doesn’t doubt his ability to fight right this moment, doesn’t doubt his killer left hook, or his dirty fighting tactics that Janus picked up in the name of self defense and preservation. Virgil’s body hums with adrenaline as he watches Janus follow after Patton.

He leans against a jeep that doesn’t actually have a parking pass but no one’s complained about it and Janus peeks around the bummer to see where Patton was heading.

For a second, Virgil thought he was going after Janus’s car-- the little gold mazada 3 thats a year and a half old and a gift from his parents. He’s just about to yell, to scream, to ward Patton off, because it was already shitty of him to not show up to the debate, but touching Janus’s car? That’s like super assholeish and Virgil has never once wanted to call Patton an asshole.

Janus, however, is quicker and covers his mouth with his hand. “Look, I think...he’s crying,”

“What?” Virgil whispers, squinting-- oh shit, he should probably get an appointment to update his contacts soon -- and Patton is crying. Its the silent type of crying that's born from using a smile to hide the hurt too much and Virgil immediately decides that Patton doesn’t deserve that ever. He feels each one of those tears like a punch to the gut, each soft barely audible gasp like a knee to his jaw, each sniffle like an elbow to the back of his head.

Patton storms past Janus’s car and goes straight to the fiery red Prius that Roman (and his twin Remus) share.

“Oh my god,” Virgil breathes at the same time as Patton takes the blade of a key to the side of the car.

The noise is awful. Janus flinches curling into Virgil as they watch with morbid fascination: Patton doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate as he carves deep into the paint and the metal, perfecting each and every letter.

By the time he’s finished, he’s bawling big fat crocodile tears that soak all turn all his cheeks puffy and soak the collar of his sweater and Virgil’s stomach is a twisted knot of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with.

“FUCK OFF” written on the side of Roman’s car explains things very well, anyway.

Patton drops the keys on the ground and then follows after in such a dead weight fall that Virgil feels the shockwaves from where he is. He curls in on himself, sobbing horrible, gut-wrenching howls of pain.

Janus leaps around Virgil to run after him, and Virgil only stumbles slightly trying to come with him. 

“I didn’t…” Janus says, loudly--loud enough to make Patton jump and Virgil flinch and the empty parking lot feel crowded, “I didn’t know you were into Modern Art, Patton.”

Virgil thinks that if it were any other situation, he might have snorted. But when Patton turns to them with his blue eyes so full of tears that Virgil thinks he might drown in them, he forgets every other thought he has had.

Its just...rage.

“I’ll kill him.”

And Virgil means it, the same way he says that the sky is blue, or that he won't take off his sweatshirt, that he loves Janus with all his soul. He means that he will go right back into that building and search through every single fucking classroom until he finds wherever Roman spends his third class of the day and then he’ll drag him out to the parking lot by his stupid perfect hair and run him over a couple hundred times.

Virgil will go to jail for manslaughter and he wouldn’t even feel sorry.

Patton lets out a shuddering sob and frantically tries to wipe away his ugly tears, making noises that Virgil assumes are meant to be words but they come out scrambled and grated and wrong. And Patton who’s never done a single mean thing in all the time that Virgil has known of him, does not deserve to feel a hurt that bad. How dare Roman make him feel a pain that bad.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and spins on his heel to go take care of the issue-- but Janus catches him by his hood and yanks him back.

“Patton,” Janus says softly (a tone that's normally reserved for two AM sleepovers and lazy saturday movie marathons and sad boi hours that come and go like the seasons), “What can we do?”

Patton lets out a shriek, and when he looks back up there’s no sadness. Its a fury, an anger, its frustration that boiled into a suffocating gas and Virgil guess that he’s not going to need to end Roman’s life because Patton is perfectly capable of doing himself.

“You can shut the hell up!” Patton screams, “And Leave me the fuck alone!”

Virgil and Janus share a look.

And well...Virgil has been breaking rules since he was a kid and Janus isn’t the type of follow orders simply because. Without discussing anything they both sit down next to Patton, and Virgil starts pulling out the origami paper again.

“What are you doing?” Patton hisses in a way that Virgil has never once seen him do. His fingers shake, but he keeps himself calm and cool and collected.

“Its called origami,” Janus says, although he knows very well that’s not what Patton was asking. Virgil watches his fingers flick in the air, a mesmerizing dance that once Patton looks at he couldn’t look away from. 

Patton’s tears drop, his face is still puffy and dangerous, but Janus says nothing about it. Virgil holds his breath and watches as Janus folds, unfolds, pinches, twists the paper into a jumping frog. He sets it out on his palm and lets Patton stare at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“I like making things when I get upset,” Janus says. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I…” Patton sniffles, rubbing away his tears again. He sounds so small and insignificant that Virgil wants to wrap his arms around him and protect him from everything. “Why…?”

“I know how to do many animals,” Janus continues on, “frogs, snakes, spiders, cranes… Or we can just fold paper in any way we want to, too.”

Patton is silent. Janus picks up another piece of paper and begins folding it in half. There’s a breeze through the parking lot, colder than before, bitter and smarting. Virgil tugs the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and tries not to wonder what happened to the sun. 

“The motion is calming to me,” Janus explains, “I like the creation of something new and different, the repetition--”

There’s a huff.

A snort.

And then...well then Patton is laughing a terribly wet, mean laugh. Janus pauses halfway through folding the head of the frog to make sure Patton hasn't been replaced by a skinwalking alien wearing Patton’s face, and Virgil can’t really blame him at all. The small boy kneels over laughing so hard he ends up gasping for breath and Virgil shivers at how the noise steals all the warmth from the air.

“Fucking stupid,” Patton manages, through gasps that sound suspiciously like whimpers. “Everything is so fucking stupid.” 

“I see someone taught the five-year-old a new swear word,” Janus says. “Who was it? Remus?”

“Just go away, Janus,” Patton says, laying his head on the asphalt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Janus tuts finishing off his second frog, “You really don’t know where that piece of road has been.”

“Actually I do!” Patton bolts upright, “I do know! Its been right here! Its been here no matter what’s happened, never moving, never changing, and even if I marked it with chalk or paint or took a jackhammer to it or blew it the fuck up it will still be here when I wake up tomorrow! Now fuck off!”

Virgil blinks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. 

“I am learning so many things about you today, Patton,” Janus says without missing a beat. He picks up another sheet of paper, “You’re into modern art, you’re passionate about parking lots...my, my, my. Perhaps we should have done our debate on road construction instead. Would you have bothered to show up then?”

“Like it matters.” Patton says, even more unlike himself. Virgil thinks he’s seen Patton overbook himself for commitments more times than he can count and apologies are nearly always coupled with food of some sort: cookies, fudge, pasta salad. Sometimes even to things he never even said he could be there for. Patton is more apologetic than Virgil ever has been, and Virgil likes to apologize for existing.

But here is a Patton, or a version of him, that seems so defeated, so angry, so sad and upset and miserable that he’s just...given up. Consequences be damned.

“We lose,” Patton says looking up at the sky, “We lose because Mrs. Hydrus hates you, Janus, and so she makes us do it without any notes, then every time you stumble, she interrupts and asks for clarification despite being the moderator, and she cuts down our time by a whole minute. And when you say anything back to her she sends you to the principal's office and gives us a zero for the assignment, anyway. We lose. But its fine because you never remember anyway and then you get to wake up and be humiliated all over again. And it doesn’t matter what I do! Okay? We lose!”

Janus stops folding his frog and turns to look directly at Patton. Virgil is too, and he can scarcely breathe.

“What did you just say?”

Patton turns to face him swiping away another round of tears. “Go ahead, Virgil! You’re just like everyone else. Go and call me c-crazy! Tell me I’m insane! T-take me to the doctors! Whatever! I’m so t-tired of this and I can’t even die.”

Virgil swallows hard. There’s a lump in the back of his throat, a lump that’s growing until he can barely breathe around it. Janus brings a hand up to his mouth like he might be sick right there on the concrete. 

“Patton…” Virgil breathes. “Are you a paper frog?”

Patton stares at him like he’s stupid so Virgil reaches out with shaky hands and picks up one of the finished frogs from the ground. He carefully unfolds it, piece-by-piece, until its back to the original square. Then he holds it up for Patton to see, and begins to refold it the way that Janus had.

“Are you,” Virgil asks, “being refolded like a paper frog?”

Patton’s face says everything.

“H-how,” Janus asks, “how many times?”

The other boy blinks long and slow and sniffles. “I-I don’t know. Around three hundred twelve? Maybe? I lost count so long ago.”

“Three hundred twel--” Virgil repeats, “Holy shit, Pat! That’s almost a year.”

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Janus asks, although they all know why really. Despite them being debate partners, Patton and Janus don’t talk. Janus and Virgil admire him from afar, and only talk to him in passing. For the longest time Virgil didn’t even know if Patton knew his name, and now they’re sitting here wondering why strangers would ever interact with one another?

“What about…” Virgil motions to the car, the keys, the fun words written in the red paint.

Patton shakes his head so hard his body trembles. “He doesn’t...he never...I tried so so hard but its so much easier to leave him be. It takes so much to convince him and then… then its not a true love’s kiss solution.”

Virgil’s gut twists just thinking about that. About how many times that Roman made him prove that he had seen everything before, and then for a kiss not to work when they both were head over heels in love with each other and then waking up again, convincing Roman again, then telling him the kiss didn’t work? Virgil could guess it didn’t go over well at all. 

Knowing Roman it had probably dissolved into a “we’re not meant for each other?”, followed by a “i will always love you no matter what.” , and finished with a “If it will save you from this loop then we’ll have to break up”.

From the sight of the keys on the ground, Virgil can guess how far it went this time.

“I do love him,” Patton says almost desperately. “I do, I do, I do! I swear I love him so much--”

Janus puts a hand on Patton’s shoulder and he falls silent immediately. “I believe you,” Janus says, “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Patton. No one here thinks that the two of you aren’t perfect for each other.”

Its a pain to admit because its friendzoning both of them right now, but Virgil would weather that if it meant Patton wouldn’t sound so heartbroken. Janus meets his eyes over Patton’s shoulder and gives him a nod. At least they’re on the same page for this.

“Three hundred twelve time loops,” Virgil says, “does not sound like it was fun at all.”

“Are any loops fun?” Janus asks.

“Fruit loops are fun,” Patton sniffles again. He rubs his eyes and hunches over in his sweatshirt. “Do you guys...do you guys really believe me?”

Janus’s lips curve into a wry smile, “Patton in all the time that I can remember, I’ve never seen you have the guts to key someone’s car. And now you’re saying fuck? And telling me off? That's a whole lot of character development to happen without me noticing, unless it was a time loop.”

Patton giggles, just a bit. It's still weepy but it makes Virgil feel like he can breathe for the first time. 

“Don’t worry, Pat,” Virgil says, “We’ll figure this thing out.” 

“H-how?” 

Janus sighed leaning back a little, “Well we could ask Logan.”

“Logan?” Virgil echoes, “you mean Remus’s boyfriend? You think he’s got something?”

Janus shrugs, “He is a witch.” 

“A what now?” Virgil says. “Since when was he a witch! You never told me that!” 

Janus grins sheepishly, and rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot? I love you?”

Virgil blows a raspberry at him. “Just like how I’m gonna forget to mention you when I find Mothman. But I love you, too.”

“Its a cruel love, this thing we have.” Janus says rather poetically and Virgil reaches over to shove his shoulder. Janus laughs sways so he falls onto Patton’s shoulder. Patton for his part smiles, bright and blinding and it takes both their breaths away when he laughs again.

Virgil can’t imagine having to redo the same day twice, much less three hundred times. He wonders vaguely if Patton has any idea how strong he is, how amazing, how inspiring he is to keep that glow inside himself despite everything.

He’s smile fades for a moment and he perks up all of a sudden. “Oh My Gosh! Logan’s a witch!” He makes a flurry of arm movements that forces Virgil to duck, “Oh my gosh that means--!!”

“Deep breaths, dear,” Janus suggests, although it goes ignored.

“Yesterday--like actually yesterday, your yesterday, not the last loop, Logan and Remus got into an argument over a bottle and I thought it was gatorade! Remus was trying to drink it but Logan wouldn’t let him and they ended up spilling it on the floor! I helped them keep it up but I got a little bit on my hand! I didn’t think too much of it but what if it was like some sort of potion?”

Janus considers it, “Hmmm, its a good starting place. Let’s go ask him what it was.” He stands up and offers a hand down to Patton and Virgil each. Virgil takes it and turns back to also offer his own hand to the smaller boy. 

“Come on, Hart, this is going to be your last loop.” Janus says.

Patton stares at their hands almost as if he was afraid to take them. He glances down at the origami frogs, at the keys, and their bags, then back up at them with an fearful expression. “You...you promise?”

Virgil laughs, “Yeah, we got you, Pat. Promise.”

Patton shakes from head to toe, but he grabs both their hands and smiles like he has hope for the first time in three hundred twelve days.

[sperastella]

Yo it’s Tripple!❤️❤️ How about Baby sitter AU, enemies to lovers, and the quote “What is that??!!”

Okay, this was a lot harder than I thought it would be with the whole enemies to lovers thing, but I was trying to timebox myself here so hopefully, you like it!

We Communicate in Waveforms

Rey Kenobi is in desperate need of a job when she agrees to babysit for Mr. Dameron. Unfortunately, he turns out to be kind of an ass...that is at least until she gets to know him better.

AKA Five times Rey was pretty sure she hated Mr. Dameron and the one time she did not.

Also available to read on AO3

One

Rey Kenobi got the job via a recommendation from Leia. A friend’s son was in need of a babysitter and while she had never babysat as a job before, Rey had plenty of experience looking after kids of all ages at the group home. Plus, as a 22-year-old grad student, she was in desperate need of any job that helped pay the bills.

Unfortunately, her employer, Mr. Poe Dameron, was not what she expected. For starters, he was a 30-year-old single father of two, six-month-old twin girls, Shara and Bethany. Second, and most importantly, he was kind of an ass.

“Food and formula are in the fridge; you can make a list if there is anything that needs restocking. The girls will need at least two naps and do make sure to use the lavender skin wipes when changing them. Any questions Ms. Kenobi?”

“No, I’m good. And please, call me Rey.”

“Very well. I should be back around six Ms. Kenobi.”

Beyond his insistence not to use her first name, he also commonly failed to use basic pleasantries like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. His swift exit and terse demeanor left her wondering how much he even cared about his girls.

Two

Two weeks later, Mr. Dameron had come home early and was preparing dinner in the kitchen while Rey readied the girls. Shara was up in an instant at the first mention of food. Comparatively, Bethany took longer to get ready. Rey liked to think it was because she just wanted all the attention. As she rocked the girl in her arms, she hears a loud crash from the kitchen.

“Fuck!” yells Mr. Dameron in a loud voice that carries all the way to the girls’ room.

Rey makes her way to the kitchen to see a pot tipped over and what was supposed to be the girls’ formula spilled across the tile floor.

“Everything okay?”

Mr. Dameron is bent over cleaning up the mess and cursing under his breath.

“Fine.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine Ms. Kenobi,” snaps Mr. Dameron sharply. “I got this.”

“Okay relax, you don’t have to be rude about it,” scoffs Rey.

Quickly turning on her heel, she takes Bethany back to the nursery. Looks like supper is going to be a little while longer.

Three

While searching for clean sheets, she comes across a picture album in the bottom drawer of the closet. Letting curiosity get the better of her, Rey begins to flip through the photobook only to find several pictures of Mr. Dameron and an unknown woman. There are pictures of them hugging and kissing—they look happy together. This woman was probably the twin’s mom.  She wonders if—

“Hey, what are you doing in there?”

“I uh...um…” Rey fumbles and shuts the book with a thud. “I was uh...looking for sheets.”

Mr. Dameron eyes the album in her lap and his face goes unreadable for a moment before he scowls at her once more.

“Put that back, don’t ever go looking in there again, do you understand?!”

Four

If Rey wasn’t becoming so attached to his girls, she would probably quit this stupid job babysitting for Mr. Dameron. He was late getting home and he hadn’t even bothered to call or text to give her a heads up.

Roughly an hour later, he comes stumbling into the house carrying a large heavy box. The muscles in his forearms are tight and his shirt rides up a bit to expose several tan abs that distract Rey for a (not so) brief moment.

“What is that??!!” she practically yells, stammering up to help move one of the chairs out his way.

Carrying the box through the living room, Mr. Dameron sets it down inside the twins’ nursery.

“It’s a dresser,” he exhales. “I thought I could paint it and it would go well along that wall,” he says, pointing across the room.

Rey’s face warms and she folds her arms defensively. “Yeah, well...you’re nearly an hour late. Why didn’t you call or text?”

Mr. Dameron digs into his pocket and holds up his phone. “Oh, my cell died.”

Five

Rey feels oddly off-kilter when Mr. Dameron is sullen and apologizes for being three days late with her latest pay. His house wasn’t very big, nor was it really decorated (outside the girls’ nursery), but she never thought he was struggling to make ends meet. Despite knowing she should probably leave, Rey watches as he shuffles past her into the twins’ room.

“Hey sweethearts,” he mumbles, caressing Shara’s head. “Did you have a good day today?”

The baby girl blabbers playfully.

“Mmf, well I’m glad one of us did. How about you Bethany?”

Another happy cry.

“Yeah, I agree. Rey is great. Lord knows she’s better with you two than I’ll ever be. I can barely make your formula.”

Plus One

Over time, Rey realizes she very badly misjudged Mr. Dameron. While he could be rude at times, he was genuinely a good man put in a difficult situation. Shara and Bethany were unplanned and his former girlfriend disappeared shortly after their birth, leaving him to care for the girls by himself.

One night after watching the girls, Rey’s car won’t start and she finds herself stranded outside Mr. Dameron’s house. He must have been watching to make sure she left okay because a few minutes later, he comes rushing outside without even so much as an umbrella.

“Everything alright?” he asks, knocking on her door.

“Car won’t start,” she frowns.

“I can see that. Why don’t you pop the hood.”

For some reason or another, she hops out of the car and watches as he spends a few minutes looking and poking at the engine and other mechanical parts. (Hey, she’s studying to be a biochemist, not a mechanic.)

“Hard to tell what the issue might be in this storm,” he laments. “Want to come back inside where it’s at least warm and dry?”

“Okay sure,” she nods.

By the time they make it back inside, they are both drenched from head to toe.

The way his wet clothes stick tight to his body is distracting and she feels a sudden change in the air when she notices him equally eyeing her warily. Her own clothes firmly frame her curves, leaving little to the imagination. She’s breathing heavily and takes a step closer to him. Gently reaching up, she brushes some of his damp curls to the side of his face, her fingers lingering for a few short seconds.

Mr. Dameron closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose. She watches him swallow deep in his throat.

“W-We...we should...we should change out of these clothes before we catch pneumonia,” he murmurs in a husky voice.

“Yeah, okay,” she nods, also soar in the throat.

Following him to the laundry room, he sets a timer on the dryer and strips off his shirt. Rey’s breath audibly hitches as his chest is laid bare before her. Her gaze moves from his chest to his warm brown eyes and back to his chest. He watches her watching him with interest, but he doesn’t say a word. Unbuttoning his pants, he removes his jeans and also places them in the dryer. He’s standing nearly naked in front of her now, wearing nothing but his boxers.

She bites her lip as his gaze returns to her. Rey nods silently and slowly lifts her arms above her head. He takes a step closer and gently wraps his fingers at the bottom of her shirt and tugs the wet garment off, placing it in the dyer. Mr. Dameron’s eyes lap up her exposed skin, save her soaking wet bra, which is basically see-through at this point anyway. Reaching behind her back, she unclips the undergarment and slides it off her shoulders.

“This too,” she whispers, handing her bra to him.

Their eyes never leave one another and he nods wordlessly.

Slowly, she turns around, loosens her pants button, and bends over ever so slightly as she wiggles out of her own jeans.

A short smile breaks across her face when she hears Mr. Dameron mutter “ Fuck ” behind her.

When she turns around to face him again, he’s staring at her reverently. The only sound is their wet clothes spinning in the dryer and he takes another step closer to her. One of his hands gently reaches at her hip while the other caresses her cheek. The electric charge in the air is so thick it makes it feel like they are about to combust.

“ Rey, ” he whispers, using her name for what might be the first time, as their bodies begin to slowly intertwine. “Tell me to stop.” He has her pushed up against the wall. She can feel his breath hot on her neck, along with other parts of him firm against her.

“No, Mr. Dameron ,” she whimpers. “Please, don’t stop.”

In an instant, his lips are on her own. They start slow, with lazy chaste kisses before giving way to more energetic activities. Her hands wander down his chest and through his curls while he caresses her soft areas. Their tongues meet and she wraps herself tightly around him as he picks her up and carries her over to his bed where they make out for what seems like hours.

That is until a certain cry comes ringing through the hall from the nursery.

“I got it” chuckles Mr. Dameron, leaving her with a single kiss on the lips before hopping up and heading to take care of the girls.

Rey sighs as she falls back into the pillow. This is totally going to be a thing now.

[vanaera]

The Sprout

Synopsis | It's Valentines Day and Jeon Jungkook, for the very first time, attempts to go beyond his pseudonym 'Little Prince' who's sending you love letters anonymously, to spend the day of the hearts with you a little more than what bestfriends usually do (OR a series of events where Jungkook oddly fails and succeeds at the same time in making your heart flutter and it looks like this day might end up to something more than he initially planned). Genre | Fluff Pairing | Jungkook x reader (football player!jk + writer!you / College!AU) Wordcount | 5.4k

Read more of football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

           There will always be an uncanny way how past events can catch up to you. A sliver of early morning light, a resemblance of a familiar face from a faded poster, a sudden storm of blurred smiles in the tornado of thoughts–everything a dizzying state of déjà vu. It’s the kind of thought that stays in the back of one’s mind; not at all stale but so fresh that it was nearly a feeling, with all a feeling’s overwhelming power to kill other thoughts.

           Jungkook feels this when his eyes met yours across the corridor.

           Your eyes have always been familiar. Warm brown and homey, Jungkook always feels the calm whenever he looks at them. It’s probably the familiarity they offer, the result of more than ten years of knowing you and memorizing the small details of you on the back of his palm, enough for him to trace the constellations of your face under his lids when you happen to appear in his dream. However, it’s not just the familiarity. Now, the palpitations of his heart, the heat that rises to his cheeks, and the songs from the birds in his rib-caged heart are enough to tell him it’s more than just knowing you too well.

           He’s in love with you–probably even more than that.

           Your name weighs so much more on his tongue than the countless people who gravitated around him through the years, and your smile is enough for him to get him through the whole day as the image of you always stay imprinted in his mind, a memory fresh enough for him to bring back before his eyes even if he didn’t intend to. It doesn’t even leave him a choice; he always sees you.

           He’s been stubborn for the past two years to acknowledge that his heart is bearing feelings more than what friendship demands and now that the knowledge of being in love with you has finally sunk in, it’s only then that he realized that everything about you comes in full force.  What were trivial things before in the back of his mind are now a magnitude of-of everything! A smile, a laughter, a contact of your skin against his–everything is overwhelming and he’s relishing in every bit of it.

           “Hey, Kook,” you said, lips pulled into semi-smile as you raise your knuckles aligned to his.

           Jungkook quirks a smile in return and bumps his fist with yours. The  past ten years with you are not enough to erase the things you’ve made tradition with him, promises from juvenile pinky swears of a “special greeting just between the two of us”  solidified in the years you’ve grown with him. And damn, he likes every bit of it but it’s not like he’d admit it to you aloud.

           Everything he’s feeling right now are yet for you to know.  He needs more time and courage to make you fully understand how much you mean to him.

           Jungkook could already feel the heat cupping the expanse of his cheeks, so he cracks a grin, grabs your backpack, and turns his back to head to the lecture room before you can even glimpse at the reds that may have already bloomed on his face.

           “Hey! Give my bag to me!” you huff as you catch up to his walking figure.

           “I’ll carry it,” Jungkook  says, “it looks like you needed help doing it.”

           “I do not!”

           Jungkook laughs. You’ve been complaining about the ache on your back for the past week and you have the nerve to deny it with a straight face as if he hasn’t been giving you some back massage in between your breaks for the past days. Anyway, he won’t say it out loud. He knows you hate it when you appear weak and vulnerable to the people around you. 

           Jungkook  glances at you. “What’s your first class?”

           You grumble behind him, “Physics.”

           “Then I’ll drop you there.”

           “You sound like my dad, but whatever. You liked carrying my bag all the way to the next building? Be free to do so.”

           Jungkook could feel a small, lithe hand make  its way to hold his much larger one and before he can choke on his own breath, he mutters a rushed “I’ll be happy to do so, Y/N.” before falling into silence with you.

 //

             It’s four o’clock and his classes are finished and Jungkook feels like throwing up. It’s true that feelings do have this sickeningly delicious power to kill thoughts because for the past hour, one single thing is being stirred in his heart and mind: he’s about to fuck up.

           Jungkook blames it on his damn friend and roommate, Park Jimin.

           “So…whaddya gonna do on the day of the hearts?”

           Jungkook looks up from the code he’s typing on his laptop to give his friend a raised brow. “Day of the hearts?”

           Jimin  scrunches his forehead. “Duh, Valentines. It’s five days from now and everyone’s been quipping about it since last week. Hell, I even saw some girl slip in a pink envelope in your locker for the third time this day.”

           Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Ugh, why do they keep on sending their confessions when it’s clear I already have set my eyes on someone.”

           Jimin looks at him funny. “’Cus no one actually knows that you already have a special lady. Even Y/N doesn’t even know she’s the reason of your gooey heart eyes.”

           “I do not have gooey heart eyes.”

           “Yeah, you do. Alllll the time.”

           “Fine,” Jungkook tears the headphones from his ears and sets it on his neck, “okay, I get it. I’m dumb and a big ass coward to admit to my bestfriend I’m fucking in love with her. But I already got things covered, man. Got the letter, the pink envelope, and the golden crown already prepared. I’ll drop it on the 14th in her locker.”

           Jimin hums, totally unsatisfied. But before Jungkook goes back to his homework, his friend’s words stuck word per word on the back of his mind that prevented him to have an ounce of sleep for the next few days:

           “Don’t you want to do something more than just sending her love letters in the guise of the ‘Little Prince’?”

           This is the reason why he fucking spent his two-hour break rummaging through his closet for an “eyecandy” get-up–the ever plain black bomber, black shirt, and ripped jeans–instead of napping and redeeming the dark circles under his eyes. This is also the very reason why he is currently dying on the bench of the campus grounds after you just replied to his “Hey, you free today?” with “Yeah, what’s up?” Why his hands are shaking and sweaty and his chest feels like about to combust? He just fucking sent you an adrenaline-induced-self-hatred-and-anxiety-propelled reply of “Valentines, hoe.”  And all of this just happened FIVE MINUTES ago and he’s not yet doing anything in his listed plan and he’s already fucking things up!

           Fuck Park Jimin, fuck this goddamn stupid plan, everything’s gonna fail and–

           “What’s up, Kook?”

           Jungkook nearly cries out a banshee scream but luckily, a heavy hand slapping on his shoulder is enough to wake him up.

           “My God, what’s up with you? Are you okay?” you plopped down beside him.      

           “O-oh, umm yeah, Y/N, hi!” Jungkook stammers. You’re still dressed in the same clothes this morning–rose pink oversized sweater and faded blue jeans, probably forgoing your three-hour break to finish the storyboarding of the new play for the drama club with the other writers. But still, you look as dazzling as ever and Jungkook finds it necessary for his poor heart to add just an inch of space between you two before your hand could graze his burning skin.

           If you’re unsettled by the blatant weirdness he’s displaying in public, you didn’t show it. “Soo,” you look at him, “what’s with Valentines?”

           “Oh-Umm. We’re single?”

           Your mouth hangs open. “Yeah, well no shit, Sherlock Jungkook.  What’s that got to do with you asking me if I’m free–oh wait,” you frowned at him, “are you trying to prank me? ‘Cause if you are, I’d rather spend–”

           “No, this is not a prank! I-I-” Jungkook closes his eyes and breathes. “I got some tickets to an open-ground concert tonight and obviously, I could have asked anyone to come with me–because you know? The Jeon Effect is irresistible–but since you’re single and you’re ready to mingle, why not hang out with me?”

           “…So…your point is?”

           Jungkook smiles, shoulders and hopes raised, “Go out with me?”

           “You know, you could have just said that out loud without rambling some idiotic nonsense.”

           “Where’s the idiotic nonsense in what I said?”

           “You rhyming ‘single’ with ‘mingle’ and that goddamn Jeon Effect.”

           “But it’s true! The Jeon Effect is irresistible!”

           “Say that to my fist.”

           “Hi Y/N’s fist! The Jeon Effect is really irresistible, no?”

           “Oh, shut up!”

 //

             Thirty minutes later, you and a jumpy Jungkook are walking by the town plaza, heading to god knows what is stored in your bestfriend's mind. The concert is scheduled not any later than eight and the two of you are just wandering around to pass the free three hours.

           Despite the straight face you're currently sporting, you don't actually mind spending the rest of your afternoon with him. Valentines is an overrated event, a marketing act to get couples to go out and spend and do extra cheesy public displays of affection. However, you can't deny the beauty lying beneath of it all. The town looked like spring in pastel pink swept over it: pink and red dozens of flowers filled every space and corner of the street in wrapped bouquets or wooden baskets, romantic designs in wall arts and frosted glass panes littered every store, and varying sizes of cut-out hearts hung above the streetlamps, stringed next to each other to form lines and lines of them that it seems like they’ve corded throughout the city. You might be biased because red is your favorite color but the beauty and art surrounding you cannot go unnoticed. It's there right around you, blatantly laid out just for you to see and look at–just like the stupid face your bestfriend is pulling right in front of you.

           You don't know how the hell he is now stuck literally by your side when moments ago you're walking side by side, arms-length apart.

           "So...where do you wanna go?" Jungkook asks.

           "I don't know, wherever you wanna go to."

           "Hmm," Jungkook looks around before stopping on something and then he's grinning back at you, "Let's go there, yeah?"

           Before you can take a glimpse of what he saw, he's already running to the right side of the road, taking you in tow with your hand clasped in his grip, his warmth enveloping the entirety of your hand.

           You don't even know why you're complaining mentally; you actually don't mind feeling his warmth against yours nor the fact that you're just following his lead to god knows where.

           "You do know you have long ass legs, Kook, and I'm barely catching up."

           Jungkook slows down a bit but not enough for you to pace back into walking, and oh, your hand still in his.  He looks back at you, "Well, It's because you got cute little legs so you gotta catch up."

           "Are we there yet?"

           Moments of breathless huffs and people staring curiously at the both of you pass before  Jungkook abruptly stops and breathes "We're here." A small shop is in front of you two with huge, clear glass windows that enable you to see the decorative displays of frosted pastries and fresh sandwiches. The pastel pink and white awning is tapered with gold lines and a cursive "Lovers' Lounge" is neatly drawn on the glass with a cute heart right beside it.

           Jungkook hurriedly opens the door for you and you step inside to be hit with the enticing aroma of roasted beans and baked dough. Along with the sensation is a sickening view of countless couples sitting on heart-shaped couches fawning over each other that you can hardly see anyone touching the cakes and croissants served on their tables.

           You immediately whipped your head to face your bestfriend. "Jungkook, I think this isn't the place we're supposed to go–”

           "Good afternoon, Sir, what would you like to have with your girlfriend?"

           Girlfriend?! Your mouth drops open and before you can voice out a "No, we're just friends," your bestfriend has already pulled you to his side with his arm wound around your waist, drawing you so close that you can smell the cedarwood he probably sprayed this morning.

           "Umm, we would like two caramel macchiatos and a set of glazed doughnuts," Jungkook pauses and looks at you smiling. "What else do you like, my Y/N?"

           What.the.absolute.fuck. Jeon Jungkook has finally lost his mind.

           Taking in your scrunched forehead and ajar mouth, Jungkook cuts right in and finishes his order with "and a platter of carbonara, thank you." He then leads you to the right corner of the shop and before everything that just happened settle down in your consciousness, you're sitting face to face with your bestfriend wearing the dumbest grin he could ever pull.

           "What the fuck, Jungkook?" you hissed, "What's with the arm thingy and-and-and the ‘my Y/N’ cringey shit? What–”

           "Shh!" Jungkook clamps his hand over your mouth but you slap it away and scowled at him.

           Jungkook chuckles, "My god, you look so cute right now."

           "I ain't being cute! What the fuck just happened on the counter?"

           "This is a couples' restaurant, Y/N. Jimin told me that they'll have all foods free for couples this Valentines Day starting from twelve noon until five, and look," Jungkook peeks at his watch, “it's 4:57. Just in time.”

           "Oh...that's why you didn't pay anything on the counter."

           "Exactly. Now we just gotta pretend we're a couple whenever the servers near us and we're good to go." Jungkook sits back and wiggles his eyebrows. "So what do you say?"

           "Hmm'kay. I'm not saying no to free food after all, but," you faced him, your lips in a straight line, "next time you have some ridiculous shit up your sleeve, it would be nice if you inform me first, you know? I don't like surprises."

           "You don't like surprises?" Jungkook gawks. "Then what about the impulsive camping I dragged you to last October? Or the surprise pillow fort I made on your room for your birthday last year? You were even getting cheesy with 'oh my god, Jungkook, thank you so much, I love you–”

           "That's different! And-and I didn't even say 'I love you'–I just expressed my gratitude and appreciation with 'thanks, Kook, for being a great friend and all!'"

           "Same context though," Jungkook shrugs, "I know you love me, just admit it."

           When you don't answer, Jungkook laughs and it wasn’t long before the waitress comes with your order on the tray. As she places each dish on your table, you took a peek at your bestfriend who’s ogling the pasta platter and you think it wouldn’t hurt if you concede to his request. It wasn’t really a request, but with the way he’s been going nonstop about it whenever you hangout, it’s likely he won’t stop soon until he hears it. It’s not like you mind doing it anyway–probably close enough to liking it because your chest don’t feel so heavy when you mutter "Fine, I love you.”

           The look on Jungkook's eyes is something else, something you've never seen before. It's warm and familiar that it's easy to draw out the loud and obnoxious six-year-old you've befriended with your large story book even after the years he has grown. But the way he's looking at you is different and you don't know what the hell it means or the sudden warmth that wraps around you when it should be only felt by your right hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

           Under the soft tangerine glow of the light, he pulls a tender smile and for the first time, it doesn't look so dumb.

//

           Silence was both your companion for the next hour that followed. Not like the awkward emptiness, or the sudden quietness that sweeps over after a hearty conversation, it was most definitely not the comfortable calm Jungkook was seeking. It felt like a silent film–soundless but so full of momentum, the kind where a slight of a movement is enough to break things aloud. Jungkook could attest to it. He doesn’t know what the hell transpired in the café, how he suddenly gained his friend, Seokjin’s, cringey confidence to attempt to woo you with cheesy lines, but if he’s going to be honest, the ballads ringing atop the lungs of the birds in his chest is not solely caused by his courting shenanigans. The hint of pinkness on the apples of your cheeks, the sweet, fond smile you sent his way, and that goddamn soft “I love you” were all it took to set everything in him ablaze. The night blooms further, the skyline turns obsidian, and he can’t still feel his heart.

           The boy takes a peek at you and the same old doubts replay in his head–what are you thinking? Do you like him planning not-so-dates like this? Do you feel a little bit better when he do stuffs like this? It may have been Jimin’s idea to get him out of his comfort zone but it wasn’t the sole reason that moved him to man up and try his hand again in trying to make you feel what you make him feel.

           Jungkook isn’t blind. The half-smile you flashed at him first thing in the morning was already a sign. You’ve been…acting different for the past few days. Your eyes don’t hold the same spark they usually do when you smile, your lips won’t easily curve upward like they instantly do when you see him, and you even skipped your three-hour break you usually use for nap times with him for working again on the storyboard he knows you’ve already prepared since last week. The worst of it, you felt so far from him when you’ve always been so near and just within his reach. You haven’t sent him anything–no “hey, Jungkook, what do you think of this prose?”, no “StarKook! I’ve been running out of ideas go send me oooneee,” not even the usual “Jungkook? I’m feeling sad. Come over?” you usually send him just to let him stay at your dorm and hear you rant out about another bitch in class or a declined manuscript. No text, no chat–just plain nothing. It’s not just because of the pain in your back; there’s obviously something more and Jungkook can’t think of any other way to make you feel better than going out of his way to make you feel loved. He didn’t just get two tickets to the local band you’ve been gushing over last month; he practically spent a night fighting for them on an online sold out. He didn’t come up of going to some random heart-decor-filled place to walk around; he remembered you telling him a year ago about this town plaza that goes the extra mile on whatever event or holiday. All of them are just small details but the thing is, you always communicate with him in these minute details that over the years of reading between the lines you text him and hearing the underlying shifts of tone of your voice, Jungkook already knows the truth behind the things you say before you can even utter them out. He has always known you and if this is what he has to do to re-discover you again, Jungkook would willingly do everything.

           Jungkook looks at you again and this time your gaze connects to his.

           “What are you looking at?”

           “Nothing. Just you and your sappy face.”

           “As if you don’t have a dumb face,” you mumbled but Jungkook still hears them and he laughs. It didn’t take a second for you to follow, and by then the tinkling of your laughter has already surrounded the two of you in a calming haze as you head to the green field.

 //

             The concert ground looked like velvet gardens of green as the pastel-colored lights overhead drape the sea of people in soft hues of spring. Jungkook doesn’t remember much of the names of the people who sparked conversations with you as you both sat on the picnic blanket he laid out or the names the acoustic band list off to which they dedicate their songs to. But every bit of the song–the melody, the beat, and the lyrics stay embedded in his mind that he’s certainly write in his little black notebook as soon as he went back to the dorm. It was almost like a therapy; the soft strumming of guitars, the warm, soulful voices of the singers, the wonderful keys of the piano, and the unexpected upbeat interludes almost sent everyone into a different world as all sorts of feelings evaded everyone’s senses. People sang along, some moved their heads, a few couples slow danced on the grass and Jungkook can also see the effect on you. The straight face you wore when you first came in melted into a peaceful one and it was enough to tell everything; your contented smile and mirthful eyes that he’ll sure draw in the very same black notebook where he keeps all the poems and prose you have sent to him. You didn’t get to sing along with everyone but he knows you enjoyed every bit of the concert because even when the bands are gone and so is everyone else, it looks like you can’t find it in yourself to get up and leave just yet. So Jungkook just stays and waits, relishing every minute he could get with you by his side before tomorrow comes and Friday classes sets you apart from him again.

           It was only a matter of minutes though before he finally gets his answers.

           “Have you ever felt like…being stuck in one place and never moving at all?”

           Jungkook looks at you and licks his lips before answering, “Hmm…I do but…It’s been a while  though.”

           “For me it is too. But it hit me full force just recently,” you pause and then you looked at him. “And it fucking sucks. It feels so terrible.”

           “What is?”

           “Not being able to write anything,” you put your hand before you and clenched it before spreading it out again. “My hand yearns to type again, something–a word, a phrase, whatever, and it just…can’t. I can’t. I thought having my manuscripts continuously declined again and again, again and again, is the worst I could get until this feeling of idleness starts to consume you. Fuck, it isn’t even a feeling at all–just a thought but it’s been killing other thoughts that it’s the only thing you could think of just like what feelings do. Jungkook,” you turn to him and it was only then that Jungkook sees the unshed tears brimming in your eyes, “I fe-feel like I’m not improving at all-just stuck and useless in this limbo and everyone has their eyes on me constantly supporting me and my stuff or lying in wait when I will finally fall and I just…feel so pressured too but what’s unsettling is that I, myself, is even disappointed at what I’ve become. What’s the purpose of being a writer if I can’t write?”

           And everything hits Jungkook. A sliver of youth-filled days, blown dandelions, and naivety and immaturity running through his veins – the memory of the fourteen-year old you and the seventeen-year old him who were talking about much mature questions of your indefinite future, too heavy for your premature minds.

           “What do you want to do in your life, Jungkook?”

           “I don’t know...I’m not good in anything yet,” Jungkook murmured and he hunched his shoulders when you nudged him another dandelion for him to hold but he accepts it anyway. “What about you?”

           “I’m going to be a writer! A very good one,” you beamed, giggling, your eyes resembling half moons.

           Jungkook just stared at you. He’s never seen eyes so bright like yours before. When you looked at him with your forehead furrowed, he broke from his stupor and mumbled, “T-that’s great. I-I’m kinda embarrassed I still don’t know what I’m good at. I-I’m already seventeen and I have to repeat three years in school because I’m dumb and can’t get anything right–”

           “Hey!” you cut him off and the frown that suddenly settled on your face made him nervous. “You’re not dumb!”

           “B-but I am. I mean look, the kids of my age are already seniors and I’m still here in junior high and they probably have their lives planned ahead before them and here I am, still figuring things out and fucking things up. Even you have already your dreams! Whi-while I’m here…just unmoving and not growing.”

           “You know, you can’t compare one’s growth with another.” You stood up and patted the fallen buds of the countless dandelions you’ve blown in your garden. Your mother would probably kill you but you couldn’t care less. You grabbed the pot of a marigold in the plant box on the right of your front door and bring it by your side as you sat beside your friend once again. “One’s growth is different to another, look," you point at the seemingly burning oranges and reds of the marigold. "A marigold only takes fourteen days for its sprout to grow from the seed and around two months before its flower starts to bloom, however," you point at the yellow dandelion planted before you, the only one standing tall with its flowers long before it becomes a seed head, "a dandelion takes two months just to grow the sprout yet in one month's time it can already start to flower." You look at him this time, "See? They grow at different times but look, they're both gonna reach their peak and they would all be beautiful!" You let your lips grow into a smile, "You know, you'll find your dream soon. Just do things at your own pace and try everything you might take interest in, you'll be able to find it in no time."

     Laughing at his blank look, you just tapped him and said "Let's just blow the dandelions away and hope for the best, hmm?"

     "Yeah." And you blew away the petals hoping it carries your dreams and hopes somewhere in the following years.

           It happened to him before, and God knows how he has to die inside night by night wondering about some indefinite uncertainty in his life. You have helped him find his way before and now, Jungkook thinks it’s time to return the favor.

           Jungkook inches his way closer to you and lays flat on the mat. You look at him questioning but he only chuckles and coaxes you to lie down too. Jungkook stretches his right arm open and that’s when you finally lay next to him with his arm cushioning your head. Up above you, countless of stars have already emerged on the indigo skyline. Jungkook raises his hand and points out a constellation. “Oh look, it’s Maui’s hook!”

           “It’s Scorpio, Kook, and it’s not even up there, it’s fucking February. You’re actually pointing at Lepus.”

           “Lepus, what’s that?” he turns to you.

           You face him unfazed. “A rabbit.”

           “How did you know that?”

           “I studied constellations last year because of a celestial character I have to write.”

           “Oh right, the star prince.”

           “Yeah.”

           “It still looks like Maui’s hook to me.”

           “Kook, it doesn’t even look like a hook! Ugh! Did you actually just ask me to lay my head on the grass to point at some random constellation?”

           “...but you’re actually laying on my arm.”

           Reds start to color your cheeks again and Jungkook bites off a giggle. “S-same context though, Jeon.”

           Jungkook chuckles and brushes your fringe away from your face. “You see, the constellations up there have different times they become visible to man. Gemini–I’m not gonna point it ‘cause i don’t know where it is–is up there. I know it is visible in Feb because Hobi hyung’s birthday is around the corner and he’s been into everyone’s Zodiac signs ever since I met him. Anyway, Leo comes later in five months, but it still reaches its peak up there.” Jungkook smiles, “See? They come at different times but they will still reach their peak!”

           Jungkook could see recognition settle in as your eyes widen and your mouth parts.  And it’s honestly so beautiful he can’t take his eyes away from you.

           “Oh my god, Kook, I can’t believe you just quoted me.”

           “See? Even the fourteen-year-old you already knew the answer.”

           “We can’t compare growths.”

           “Because everyone is growing at their own pace,” Jungkook finishes.

           “Don’t you think that it’s kinda ironic that I’m the one who advised you that and here I am getting the same exact advice this time?”

           “No. It really happens. It’s part of growing. Past events seem like they catch up at you but it’s just destined to make you remember something” Jungkook winks and you pretend to barf but your bestfriend immediately brings you back to his arms before you can even attempt to stand up. You fall back on his chest and when his laughter rings out in the open air, you can’t help but also let out the chuckles bubbling in your throat.

           The last minutes of Valentines were then spent in counting off numerous comparisons–how Russia is ahead of one day than America yet it doesn’t mean that America is far behind the latter, how an entrepreneur becomes a CEO in his twenties while a retiree just gets to experience financial peak in his seventies, how characters in a book develop in their own pace–one not much more meaningful than the other–and so many more. But apart from it all, Jungkook only thinks of one:

           You may not yet love yourself at the time everyone has already mastered every art of self-love, but you will eventually get there. And he will be with you in every step, pouring his love in many ways he could think of in hopes to help you love yourself more. It will take time, but you would surely get there.

           When you look back up at the night sky, Jungkook lets his stare remain on your face. He doesn’t need to look up anymore when a bright one is already laying next to him.

           In the open velvet grounds of green, Jungkook whispers “I love you too” and smiles.

 When you open your locker the next day, there lay the familiar pink envelope with a golden crown that never fails to make your heart flutter. However, it’s not alone. A small plastic orange pot just the size of your palm sits next to it. One day late, and quite weird how this secret admirer of yours knows the combination of your lock to put something much larger than a letter inside but you couldn’t find it in you to be bothered when you’ve always known this Little Prince have always meant good. You know it is so because if you have to admit, his good-natured letters over the year are succeeding in earning your trust, and yeah, maybe your heart too.

“Dear princess,

Happy Valentines! I’m sorry I’m one day late. I hoped you spent yesterday feeling loved by the people around you. Also, don’t get creeped out. I happened to pass by you and see your combination but promise!  I will not use it to take anything away from you. I just want to surprise you with a gift. I learned that flowers communicate meanings as well and I guessed that this plant, when it blooms, will tell you the entirety of my feelings.

Until then, I hope you take patience for this plant to bloom as I hope you would also take time to not give up on your own growth.

Lots of love from a faraway land,

The Little Prince.”

 A/N: Hi hons! Happy Valentines! I’ve been inactive lately so here’s some 5k diabetes-inducing fluff for you! Sooo we got to know some new stuff for our characters here! 1) Jungkook is definitely older than the OC and 2) He repeated three years in HS. All of this is essential for the future parts until we get to The Confession™

 Also, surprise, anon! I included your request in this :)

I appreciate all feedback so please don’t be shy! I would love talking with you guys! Take care and once more, Happy Valentines!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.

[long-bodyswap]

Mine

by vchris1989

Chapter 1

Look at that son of a bitch!  My douche of a colleague, Manny, is putting like some sort of dipshit teen while I’m getting our boss’s order.  Mr. Flint asked us both to pick up his new clubs, but I’m the only one who gives a shit.  And I guarantee that when we get back Manny is going to take full credit.  He’s such a fucking ass hole, but I get even more frustrated with myself because I still can’t shake my lust and desire for him.  Not for him or his personality, but for his body.  It’s weird and hard to explain.  I don’t get hard thinking about his body grinding all over me; I get hot about using his body for my own plans and desires.  

“Hey, did you talk to the guy yet?” Manny asks impatiently.  

“Manny, we’d be out of here faster if you’d help me.”

“Listen, you queer.  You find that guy so we can get out of this dump.  I don’t have time to listen to you bitch about not doing your job!  Don’t see me complaining!”

I just scoff at him.  You freaking son of a bitch.  I’ve never seen you do your god damn job a single time.  Always bullying me and extorting me to carry him through life.  Fuck, as much as he pisses me off I just can’t deny this hunger within myself.  I get so fucking horny thinking of what it would be like to own some of his swagger and confidence, to be the one coasting through life and preying on the week.  My dick gets so hard thinking about owning him and all that he is- to enter his body and wrestle control away from his mind and soul and wake up as the new Manny.  But that’s just a fantasy I suppose.  I’ll have to-

“DUDE!” Manny yells.

Shit!  I did that thing again where I spaced out on the job.  These damn daydreams are getting more powerful and more prevalent.  Fuck I’m hard right now.  Gotta hide this before Manny-

“Oh for fuck’s sake, dude.  Really?  A hard-on on the job?  That’s for me isn’t it?  You sick queer, at least you have good taste,” Manny says with a swaggery scoff as he ditches the putter he was using and walks over to a different putting green away from me, shaking his head and laughing at my misfortune.  

I fucking hate you so much, Manny.  My face is burning red with my burning hot rage that anyone could be this much of a douchbag, but damnit fuck!  My dick is so hard.  Just the thought of entering Manny and making him a better person is making me leak precum.  Oh shit, please not now- it’s never been this bad at work.  I gotta-I gotta- shit I gotta find a bathroom to blow my load.  But fuck I might miss the guy I’m waiting on.  Fuck me I think my precum just leaked through my workpants!  This isn’t going to end well…

6 hours later

Fuck today and fuck Manny!  Just bullshit all of it!  He doesn’t do shit and he has to go run his mouth to our boss about my little incident earlier.  Our boss fired me and promoted Manny- made him a fucking regional manager!  That should be me!  God, if there was a way I could slide inside Manny I could have everything I want.  

3 weeks later

So most people would be content with holding a grudge and going through a self-destroying cycle of hating Manny, jerking off at the thought of possessing Manny, self-hatred, and repeat…but not me.  Unemployment has given me the time I need to research Manny’s end and my new beginning.  My severance package was enough to fund the purchase of an original edition European witchcraft classic, Blackest Magic.  For all I know, Manny has already forgotten I exist, but I’ve had plenty of time to remember him and the life and body he doesn’t deserve.  With me inside him, he would be a real man, not some spoiled brat bitch ruining everyone else’s lives for his own gain.  I can’t believe how much Blackest Magic cost me, but that means it must be legit, right?  I’m all in, because I won’t have anything left if this doesn’t work.  I- *DING* Holy shit!  That’s the Fed Ex guy!  It’s here!  I sprint to the door, signing and taking my package in such a quick whirlwind that the Fed Ex guy is almost left transfixed as if I had been The Flash or something.  I still make sure to thank him profusely as I close the door and scurry to my living room, giddy with anticipation as I gently break the bindings on this meticulously packaged volume.  Opening the cardboard I am met by an unusually thorough layer of package stuffing.  Careful…Careful…This is so bizarre…I can almost feel the air vibrating around the book the closer I get to it.  Finally, I see the book- A pitch black volume in the classical style.  It must be over 400 years old, but there is not a single sign of age or damage on it.  This almost feels like a scam until I reach down and grab the book for the first time.  The moment I make contact the book releases a breathy almost hiss, as if it is alive and conscious of my presence, perhaps assessing my worthiness.

Worthy or not, I am desperate.  Surely the powers that be can sense my desperation and hunger to enter Manny, to control him…to be him.  Please!  Dark forces, light forces, I don’t care who!  Just someone answer my call!!!!!

With that the book flies out of my hands and lands with an echoing thud on the table in front of me.  I freeze in terror as the books pages begin flipping in an endless cyclone of magic energy until finally it halts on a page towards the back.  Nervous, but curious, I lean forward until I see the answer to my prayers-Astrus Possessum…Manny doesn’t stand a chance…That night I made all the necessary preparations.  It was really basic actually- If anything, I feel like these simple objects like candles and rose petals are just necessary to focus and redirect the book’s self-generated power.  Everything is set and now I just mediate and focus.  I focus harder and with more intent than I ever have.  I think about filling Manny, overpowering him, and assuming full control of him.  I think about laughing in his body and rubbing his hands all over his stocky, but strong form.  I think about grabbing his man meat and pumping his cock until his balls are churning out the biggest load of his life.  Fuck, my cock is leaking the biggest flow of pre-cum I’ve ever had.  I know it’s the perfect time for the words!  “Astrus Possessum!”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY FUCKINGAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” I scream as I feel like every cell of my body is being burned to ash.  This agony is too much for any mortal to comprehend, but somehow I know that it is necessary.  The pain doesn’t feel like actual fire, more like the burning hot combustion of…Oh shit- I think my soul just separated from my body.  I look down at my whispy hands, practically invisible.  And now I’m floating over what appears to be my lifeless and already pale old body.  I try to enter my old form in a panic, but I am repelled, utterly and absolutely.  Fucking shit!  I guess there’s no going back since I’m dead as a doornail…Not that I would ever want to go back…

I float over to Manny’s house-confident in my sense of direction since I devoted much time to knowing the route between his house and mine.  Without even a second thought, I float through his front door calling out his name even though he likely couldn’t hear me.  Oh will you look at that.  Manny seems to have made some sort of makeshift bed on the floor of his living room so he could take a nice mid-day nap.  Just look at you, you lazy fuck.  Someone like you could rule the world if you’d give a damn every now and then.  Enough of all this shit- all the frustration and resentment and guilt and shame.  It ends now!

I fly directly at Manny, roughly flipping him fully onto his back.  His eyes shoot wide open in shock, but before he can shout out I shove my ghostly hand into his mouth, filling him up all the way to the esophagus as he gags and tries to grab at me to absolutely no avail.  I see terror in his eyes as he half-screams, already convulsing as I slide my ghostly arm down to the elbow.  

“Oh we can make this even more fun,” I say to myself.  Smirking with my invisible face, I withdraw my arm from his throat, making him gasp in relief before I place a hand to hold him down as I reach my other hand into his shorts and grab onto his meat hard, making him squeal like a horny piglet as I begin pumping and milking his meaty cock.  “No no no PLEASE! NO LEAVE ME ALONE!  WHAT ARE YOU- UnnNNnnnnngggggggggg Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Manny exclaims as I ruthlessly abuse what will soon be my thick cock.  And from what I can tell he’s got nice length too- at least 7 inches.  Fuck that makes me pump his meat even faster.  Manny’s breathing begins reaching new peaks as sweat dribbles down from all over his meaty body.  He’s given up fighting me, knowing that I have him pinned down and that trying to get up is a futile waste of energy.  

“Please stop!  I-I-I have a girlfrienddddddddddmmmmmmmmmmmmmoohhhhhhhh.”

It’s kind of funny how he’s trying to negotiate with a ghost that’s molesting him.  Alas, I can see his pelvis starting to tighten and his breathing is really picking up.  

“Ohhhhhhh SHIT!!!  I’m gonna- I’M GONNA!”

Oh no you don’t.  I let go of his meat, leaving Manny absolutely tortured with sexual lust as I leave him so close to a forced molestation induced orgasm.  That’s going to be my orgasm, Manny.  Thanks for getting it so hot and ready for me though.  Manny is distracted now, desperately moaning out and whining from the horniness and lack of satisfaction.  Oh don’t worry you pain in my ass, it’s time for me to return the favor!  I rip his shorts all the way down to his ankles, eliciting a yelp of surprise from Manny as I dive directly for his virgin asshole, my head morphing like a gelatinous balloon as I begin flowing inside his body.  

“MOTHERFUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!” Manny screams as he arches his back and begins kicking his legs out, curling his toes and hyperventilating as his face goes red from contorting his face from all the pain and pleasure.  My assault continues, making Manny yelp as I force my shoulder blades inside his hole, stretching him beyond what should be humanly possible for a virgin hole to accept as I continue a forceful and steady invasion.  Manny yells out, shouting, “NO NO!!!!! PLEEEASSSSSEEEEEE!!!! GET OUT OF THERE!!  GET OUT OF ME!!!! PLEASE NOOOOO!!!! UNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!”  He grabs at the blanket on the ground, gripping and pulling it so hard that the veins on his meaty arms threaten to burst.  I love how his legs keep squirming like his nervous system doesn’t know what to do or who to obey.  Manny begins convulsing as the last of me enters his hole, the last of me sliding in with a slosh.  Now fully inside him, I begin rearranging, sliding each limb into his.  My legs travel and fill his.  I make sure my spiritual cock enters his.  My smaller frame aligns and fills his beefy and meaty chest.  And finally, my head enters his brain and locks into place, giving me full control of his body and access to his memories and personality.  Manny continues to convulse, his hips thrusting hard into the air as his back arches and he screams one last shriek of defiance before collapsing onto the ground, breathing deeply with his eyes closed before the world around me starts to come into focus.  

“Did it- Holy Fuck it worked!” I shout with my new voice.  “My name is Manny.  Fuck I love this.  Manny, I don’t know if you can hear me in there, but this is what you get you son of a bitch!  Now I get to do this!”  

I reach down and grab his still rock hard cock and begin stroking it with his own hands.  “Ohhhhhh FUCK YEAH” I shout as I begin uncontrollably thrusting Manny’s strong hips into this grip.  “Your meat feels so good, Manny!  MmmmmmmmmmmYEAHHHHH!”  I use my other hand to rub all over my beefy torso, feeling the weight of his strong torso and chest, grabbing all that meat with Manny’s own hands and almost yelping like a little girl when I twist his sensitive nipples.  

“Holy fuck, Manny!  Your nips feel so good!  Your body is amazing and just want I dreamed it would be!  Fuck, you love how it feels when I pump your cock.  And you love it when I thrust your cock into my grip like THIS-OOOOHHHHH FUCK YEAH!!!   YEAH take it you queer!  You fucking love getting your cock milked by me!  Feels too damn good not too.  Oh fuck you’re close!  I mean oh fuck I’m CLOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

I begin thrusting and pumping like never before, grunting and moaning endlessly as the pressure builds to impossible extremes.  I close Manny’s eyes and squeeze his face into one of pleasure as I breathe deeply and bask in the odor of his sweaty body, finally reaching the point of no return as Manny’s cock can take no more.  

“OHHHHHHH MYYYYYYY FFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!   FUCKING FUCK YEAHHHHHHH!!!!”  I scream as I thrash my head uncontrollably, moaning in joy as each thrust and pump launches volley after volley of Manny’s hot cum all over his robust chest.  The warmth of his cream on my new chest gets me so hot that I swear to God it must have triggered a consecutive orgasm as I literally cringe from sensation as I feel another round of cum begin to launch, sending more ropes of cum, literally making puddles across Manny’s body before his cock finally settles and my arches back relaxes gently back to the floor.  

“Oh. My. Fuck,” I pant between breaths as I look down at the masterpiece beneath me.  

Unable to contain my curiosity, I reach Manny’s beefy fingers down and scoop up a big puddle of his cream, smelling it and inhaling the aroma before taking it into his mouth.  My eyes open wide in shock and then delight as I look down and begin scooping more cum and instantly devouring it.  

“oh my *slurp* God.  Manny, your cum is so *slurp* fucking delicious!” I exclaim as I slurp up every single drop off of his chest, sighing in contented afterglow as I resume his nap.  I’ll shower your body later, Manny.  I want you to be filthy for a while.  And starting tomorrow I think the world will be meeting a new and improved Manny!

Chapter 2

I wake up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, stretching and yawning, and moaning in the pleasured joy of being inside Manny.  “Good Morning, new friend,” I say with a giggle as I reach down and grab Manny’s hard morning wood.  Mmmmmmm that’s nice.  I can’t help but just grind Manny’s hips into these soft blankets, making his dick feel so warm as it slides against the soft and velvety fabric.  “Fuck, this will never get old,” I exclaim as I cup Manny’s strong chest in my hands and use his thumbs to rub Manny’s nipples as I keep grinding his hips slowly and sensually into the soft and welcoming fabric.  Shit this feels nice.  Manny-like grunts leave my mouth, making my new cock throb with desire and sensation as a dark idea creeps into my mind.  Immediately I stop this grinding and flip over onto my back, putting Manny’s legs in the air as I suck on one of his fingers, cooing and moaning as I get that thick digit warm and wet.   “Mmmmmmmmmm, Manny I fucking love your body,” I whisper as I close my eyes and begin reaching that thick and wet digit down to Manny’s brutally straight hole.   “ahhhhhhhhhhh That’s nice,” I coo as I rub the wet digit around Manny’s perky and tight hole, excited by the involuntary clenching reactions this body has whenever my finger actually touches the hole.  I get Manny’s body relaxed by gently rubbing circles around that tight fuck chute.  Fuck, Manny’s cock is so hard right now.  Shit, Manny’s cock is leaking precum.  Maybe that straight son of a bitch wasn’t 100 percent straight after all…This makes me chuckle as I place a thick finger directly on Manny’s hole, ready to begin breaking new ground.  Before I can even apply any pressure though I feel a particularly strange sensation.  It’s not uncomfortable, but I feel like there’s a lot of pressure inside, like that feeling when you drive up a mountain or a big hill.   “Wait what am I?  What the FUCK?!” I hear Manny’s soul shriek inside his mind.   That must be the pressure.  My soon-to-be abuse of his hole must have awakened his spunky fighting spirit.  Too bad though he’s just wasting his energies.   “Who are you?!  How are you doing this?!” Manny demands. “Oh I think you know who I am.  And I’m doing all this because I’m inside you.  I am you now,” I say with a sinister edge to my tone that sounds so sexy coming from Manny’s throat.  “You pushed me too far.  You took everything you had for granted and treated everything and everyone in your life like shit, so I’m here to repo your life basically.” “What the fuck are you talking about?!  And why can’t I talk?!  Why are you talking with my body?  Why the fuck can’t I move?  What did you do?!” I spit into my hand and rub all that slick spit over Manny’s hole and begin pressing a thick digit against his hole, making me cringe and squirm as I force that thick digit down to the second knuckle, amazed by how tight Manny’s hole is and by the fact that I was even able to enter his tight straight man ass.   “NOOO PLEASE!!!! STOP YOU FREAKING PERVERT!” “Oh Manny, I know this hurts, but trust me.  It’ll feel so gooOOOOOOODDDDD  Oh WOW you are tight!” I exclaim as I ram the last of the digit inside Manny’s hole, my mouth in a circular O of surprise as Manny’s back arches and I squirm on my back, leaving that thick finger buried fully inside me as I swirl that digit in all directions, activating an endless sea of nerve endings that even Manny is forced to succumb to.   “NO!  PLEASE STOAAAAHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPP!  Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” Manny begs in his mind.   “Oh Come on, Manny.  It doesn’t feel good when I do THIS?!” I say as I pull his finger out of his hole and ram its full length back inside. “Ahhhhh my FUCKKK!!! Fucking GOD!  NO! WAIT!  YOU CAN’T!  I’M not a queer!” “That’s not what your hole is telling me, Manny,” I taunt as I begin swirling the digit inside him again, slowly entering a finger fucking rhythm as I get this hole nice and stretched- well on the way to making room for a second finger.   “I swear to God!  Pleaseeeeunnnnnnnnnggggggggggg oh FUCK!  Wait no what are you- OHHHHHHH FUCCCCKKKKK NO PLEASE PLEASE STOOOPPPPPPPPAHHHHHHHHH JESUS!!!  GET THE FUCK OUT OF ME YOU QUEEERRRRRR-UNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Manny screams as I, without warning, slide a second finger in his tight hole, shrieking myself as I force both thick fingers inside all the way.  Holy fuck!  I think I swear to God I almost just passed out, but now- Oh my God this is amazing!  I try to swirl and pull and stretch those two fingers inside Manny’s hole, making me yelp in little noises of pure blissful ecstasy as my breathing deepens and I work my way to a fucking motion with these two fuck sticks.   “PLEASEAHHHHHHH!  NO! YOU CAN’T- UNGGGGGGGGGG- TOO MUCH TOO MUCH TOO FUCKING MUCH!  CAN’T!  OH GOD!!!!” Manny yells in his mind as he tries to deny the surges of pleasure crashing through his mind.  I double up my efforts, grunting and shrieking from the force as I ram and slam my new hole, growling with Manny’s voice as I get caught up in a sexual rage.  Fuck you and your hole, Manny.  It’s my hole now!  And I’m gonna abuse the shit out of it and get it nice and stretched out! Just to tease Manny I remove the two fingers and see what Manny’s reaction will be as I focus all of my energy and attention on Manny’s throbbing cock and the feeling of emptiness inside his hole.  Pretty soon my energies seem to have an interesting effect on Manny.   He tries to remain silent in his mind, but I can feel his trapped soul almost quivering with desire and emptiness as he tries to process both the sensation he felt in his hole as well as my influence.   “What the wait no!  Can’t be-fucking damnit I want it.  Do it again please!  Wait no!  Not a queer!  Not a fag!  But fuck!  Why did it feel so good?!  Do all fags get to feel that good?  Shit man I don’t care just please make me feel that good again!” Holy shot that’s such a turn on for me!  I see a glob of precum dribble down Manny’s throbbing cock just from hearing Manny beg me to finger fuck his hole.   “You’re going to have to earn the privilege.  Beg me,” I respond with a hint of satisfied domination. “Please!  Please fill my tight hole again!  Make me feel what fags feel, I don’t care just please make me feel good!” Good enough I think to myself as I smirk and scoop up all of Manny’s gooping precum and spread it over three fingers.  Without warning, I take those three thick precum lubed digits and shove them all the way inside me in one rough and swift motion.  I’m paralyzed by quakes of pleasure as I scream and gasp, a bug eyes expression of overwhelming amazement on my face as I feel Manny’s hole stretched to its limits.  Manny’s legs are trembling now as I begin fucking Manny’s hole with all three digits, making his toes curl against my will and his whole body convulse as I benefit from the pleasure.  But if I thought I was having an interesting reaction…well fuck- I checked and Manny’s soul was just erupting with one constant shriek of conflicting ecstasy and disgust.  Oh I can’t take this anymore!   “Holy fucking JESUUSSSS FUUUUCCCCKKKKK UNNNGGGGGYEAH DUDE FUCK YEAH!” I shout as Manny’s cock begins dumping a hot and steamy load all over Manny’s robust chest.  Fuck, this cock didn’t even get touched, but I just quiver as quakes of pleasure erupt from Manny’s sweet ass and travel into my new cock and balls and make my entire body shake and vibrate with pure fucking joy.  I enjoy the feeling as each rope of Manny’s cum erupts and lands with a splash on his solid torso.  And when the shots finally subside, I scoop up all of that cum and try to slide as much as possible into Manny’s stretched hole.   “Do you fucking feel that Manny?!  I’m gonna finger fuck this load of your cum so deep inside your hole it’ll never come out.” “Oh fuck man I don’t care just please make me feel good!” “Tell me what you want!” “Please make me feel good!  Do whatever you need, just please make me feel so good!” “Be specific or I’ll quit now.” “No!!!!  Please!!!  Please shove my fingers inside me!  I need three fingers!  Two isn’t enough anymore!  Use my hot cum as lube and fucking bury my hot jizz inside me, just please make me feel good!” Manny and I both coo in relief and satisfaction as we feel me slide all three fingers back inside, filling him up and pushing his warm man juices deep inside, making me feel a warmth and comfort as his cum literally oozes all over the inside of his hole.   “Oh Manny, your hot cum feels so good.  I bet this’ll feel so nice for your girl when I fuck a bunch of your loads inside her tight cunt!” This seems to bring Manny back to reality slightly as he tells me not to lay a hand on her and he suddenly begins reverting to his straight boy mentality, telling me to stop finger fucking him and calling me a fag and pervert and junk.  Whatever, I’m starting to get the hang of this.  I shut Manny up for the time being before I shove those three digits back in as hard as I can, pummeling Manny’s prostate and making me convulse and yell as an unexpected additional shot of cum randomly shoots out of Manny’s thick cock.   “Mmmmmmm yeah.  Manny, your girlfriend is gonna be seeing a new side of you.  Fuck yeah, gonna fill up that tight cunt and then find some hot twink ass looking for a Latino Daddy Bear to fill them up and give them what they need.  Thank God it’s just Saturday morning.  I’ve got a whole weekend to use your body before I fully take over your life and show up to work on Monday and begin “my” new promotion.  For the moment, I throw a purple shirt on and begin familiarizing myself with the basics of Manny’s life, logging into his computer as if it had been second nature and using this chance to recover.   Mmmmm you see those three fingers I’m using on the trackpad?  Fuck yeah all three of those thick sausages were pumping Manny’s hole and abusing his virgin prostate.  Let’s see…Oh fucking perfect.  Manny’s girlfriend emailed him and she’s arriving early from her trip…tonight. Oh Mannnny, finger fucking your hole was just divine.  No joke, I can still hardly even feel your legs.  I’m glad you recover quickly though because I already feel ready to pump a load inside your girlfriend’s tight cunt.  Your manly nuts must be supercharged cum factories because I can almost feel them vibrating as they churn out more juices and loads for me to blow.   I lift Manny’s arm and check his watch.  Great.  About forty minutes until Manny’s girl shows up.  I collapse back onto the bed and bask in my possession of Manny.  What a great day.  Before I can even think another thought I realize I have to take a massive leak with Manny’s thick and robust cock.  Ohhhhhh I can’t help but moan as I feel the cascade of fluid surge from Manny’s meat, making a commanding echo that bounces endlessly around his bathroom.  I take a deep breath as the flow slows down, smirking as I do a few more than two shakes.  Manny has a full length mirror in his bathroom, so I grin at the full length reflection of Manny, twisting his face into one of ownership and cockiness while I keep shaking drops of piss out of his cock.   “Nothing you can do about this, right Manny?  Can’t even stop me from shaking the piss out of your cock.  You’re weak, Manny.  All these years of you thinking you had some sort of edge over me, but now look at you!” I grab Manny’s balls and begin gently squeezing them and pulling on them, my back arching just slightly from pleasure as I gaze back into the mirror and grunt, “You don’t have the balls to mess with someone like me, Manny.  That’s right, these are my balls now!  All your delicious man cream belongs to me and I’m gonna taste it with your tongue and fuck it into your girlfriend’s tight cunt whenever the fuck I want.  Oh, I forgot, how could I be selfish and keep a meaty, hairy, Daddy bear like you from all the tight twinks just dying to milk the cum out of you with their hungry holes.  Mmmmmmmm yeah, Manny are you awake?  I can’t hear you, but I hope you feel the way I’m massaging your balls, getting your cum nice and ready to flood your girlfriend’s pussy.  It’s gonna feel so good for her when I make that last thrust, grunting forcefully as your warm creamy fluids surge inside her, making her feel a warmth that spreads from the inside out, satisfying her in unimaginable ways and making her beg you- I mean ME- for more.  Oh I just fucking love your balls Manny- nice and big, but still cute and sensitive enough that it drives me wild when I cup one ball and just roll it around, tugging on your ball sac right up to the point I feel a chill rush up your back and through your dick.  I’m still making direct eye contact with Manny’s reflection, hell bent on making sure he can experience this on some level no matter how dormant he may be.  I squeeze his balls one last time, grunting out, “Your body is MINE,” before strutting up to the mirror and spitting on the reflection in front of me.   “Yeah, you like that because you’re a fucking slave whore who can’t resist.  You’re too weak to resist.” I get up real close, so close that Manny’s soft cock squishes up against the mirror as I stretch out Manny’s tongue and begin licking his spit off the mirror, making sure to gaze directly into those eyes, burning this image into Manny’s dormant consciousness.   I lick my way up. “You sick slave whore.  You’ll do anything I say” *Lick* “Because you’re nothing” *Lick* “Me forcing inside your body completed you” *Lick* “Made you a real man!” *Lick* “Just look at you, you fucking queer.  The way your hole lights up when I force all those fingers inside you.  Deep down YOU LOVED IT” *Lick* “Good job cleaning that mirror, whore.  Now time to give Jenna what she’s been waiting for” I wink at Manny’s reflection one last time, giggling a bit as I notice a stream of Manny’s precum dribbling down the mirror from my little Role Playing scenario.  Shooting a devious look across Manny’s face I drop down onto his knees and begin ravenously devouring his juices, speaking for him, pretending it’s Manny saying, “Oh shit yeah so delicious!  I can’t get enough of those manly juices.  Fucking love it ‘cause I’m a weak-minded whore who just loves being filled.  IT FEELS SO GOOD BEING FULL OF YOUR ESSENCE!  MAKING ME DO SICK AND TWISTED THINGS!  I love it when you play with my cock and finger fuck my hole with my beefy fingers.  Make me a real man!”  I giggle and shiver at the same time, humored by Manny’s vocal cords producing such phrases, but also devilishly turned on.  I think I have a new game for later, after Jenna leaves.  *Knock Knock* I rush to the door, having just finished putting some clothes on and prepping for this meeting with Manny’s girl, Jenna.  I try my best to mix the best of Manny with the best of me- in other words, I’m gonna mix Manny’s confidence with my ability to choose not to be a complete asshole around other people.  Might actually be tough, but it’s too late because I’m already opening the door-“Hey, Manny.  Been a while since you called,” Jenna says meekly, with a hint of both resentment and sadness. “I’ve been busy lately, babe.  But I think you’ll notice I’m a new man.  I’ll be here for you when you need me.  So why don’t you step inside and let me prove it to you,” I say as I lean forward, ready to lock my lips over hers and pull her inside for a Manny-style power bang. “Woah there, sailor,” she says, placing her hand over my lips and blocking my advance.  “Why don’t you get me a drink first?  We have some unfinished business to hash out.” I oblige. Nodding my head and welcoming her in, following her into the kitchen as she sits at her favorite bar stool.   “So…ermmm…What can I get for you?” I ask awkwardly, not prepared for Jenna to suddenly be so pensive.  I’m unprepared, but still up for the challenge though.  I mean just look at this selfie I took earlier: I got Manny a clean haircut and dressed him up to look adorable and fuckable.  I quickly flash through Manny’s memories though and in a flash see that he had been really wrong to Jenna, having girls on the side, making her feel worthless, using a condom!, banging her so quick she never even got warmed up by the time Manny had cum!   No wonder she wants to talk.  I mean, hot twink ass on the side is one thing, but you never have other girls on the side!  I’m flashed back to the moment by Jenna’s response- “Wow, Classic Manny.  Can’t even remember my usual.” I scan Manny’s brain real fast. “Oh no, babe.  A Tom Collins with a splash of 7-up.  I just wanted to know if you wanted anything different to kick off our fresh start,” I say in the most sincere and caring tone I can possibly muster.  Coming out of Manny’s gruff at times voice, it makes Jenna instantly blush a little, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Bingo. Turning her head to try to hide her involuntary half smile, she says, “you know, what the hell.  I’ll have a vodka and cranberry.” “Anything for you, babe,” I say gently and lovingly as I walk up to her, leaning in and gently placing a tender kiss on her cheek, stroking the back of her neck and hearing her lightly gasp.  Jenna turns her head slowly, almost by instinct positioning her lips to meet mine before I pull back and give her another loving smile. “Better get that drink,” I say with a blend of Manny’s suave confidence and my own capacity for love and affection.  I instantly notice a shift in Jenna’s body language.  Instead of having rigid walls and emotional distance, I can almost feel her energy drawing me in, attracted to the new Manny.   Mixing her drink, we make casual talk about work and friends and I have her trying not to snort as she laughs from my warm and sharp sense of humor.  This drink took over ten minutes to make because of all my stories that have her on the edge of her seat, cackling until tears of laughter emerge, but I don’t think she minds too much.   “Sorry it took so long,” I chuckle as I hand Jenna her drink, giggling again as I see her smacking the table in hysteria from my last goofy story, still trying to get her composure together.  Finally calm, she smiles at me and begins asking: “Where was this side of you the first time we dated?  I haven’t laughed like that since high school, Manny.  I-I-I have to be honest.  I lied earlier about the sex.  I didn’t think you would even want to see me unless there was some pervy sexual benefit for you.  I really wanted to talk about the past.  How you hurt me.  How lonely I was.  How in the bedroom you-“ I grab her hand tenderly and begin stroking it, looking into her eyes with a solemn look of remorse. “But, Manny.  Just these past couple minutes- I- It’s like I don’t even recognize you, and I never thought I’d be so glad to say that.  You made me feel loved and special, and like I mattered-“ I lean in and hug her deeply, bringing her in close and letting her feel Manny’s tight grip and the warmth of his body.  “You will always matter to me,” I whisper into her ear, slowly sliding my face until I’m looking directly into her eyes.  Those eyes are like open doors now, bearing no resistance as Jenna sheds a single tear, smiles, and then throws herself at me, hugging me so tightly as she tells me how much she loves me and how I’ve just told her everything she always wanted to hear.   I grab her face and bring her lips to mine, gently meeting Manny’s lips to hers as we begin a gentle embrace.  The taste of her lips is so sweet.  I close my eyes and begin rubbing my hands up and down her back, reaching down and playfully grabbing her supple ass with Manny’s strong hands, making her moan and open her mouth enough for me to glide some of Manny’s tongue into her mouth.  Her moans are blissful as our tongues wrestle in a lovers’ dance, entangling gently as if exploring new territory before becoming more and more agile and energetic as our body heat rises.  I pick Jenna up in Manny’s strong arms and bring her over to the bed, gently laying her down as I pull her shirt off, showing off her trim body and perky breasts.  I take Manny’s shirt off, revealing my meatier body.  But I think Jenna has a thing for bigger guys; it must make her feel more secure.  Regardless, I begin crawling towards her until I’m laying myself on top of her, feeling her lean legs pulling my mass into her as I lean down and we begin kissing again.  Our tongues are ravenous for each other by this point as I shift and begin sniffing and kissing my way down her neck, cupping one of her supple breasts in Manny’s authorative grip, massaging and rubbing and squeezing until Jenna is groaning in ecstasy.   I know she loves this because every time I grab her perfect tits she grinds her hips against the hard on tenting through Manny’s jeans, making me gasp as my pre-cum leaking cock gets more and more insatiable.  I can’t take it anymore- I grunt as I rip Jenna’s bra in half, tearing it clean off before I make a dive for her exposed breasts, wrapping my lips around one of her perky nipples and beginning a barrage of gentle sucking and licking.   “OHHHH Mannnnnyyyyy- You’ve never- oh that’s niceeeeee- Oh Mannyyyyyyy”Jenna says as I swirl Manny’s tongue around her sensitive tit, sending shivers from her nipples through her entire body as I grab her other exposed breast and continue massaging that soft skin, tweaking that nipple gently between Manny’s thumb and index finger.   Jenna eggs me on as her back arches and she uses her legs to pull me closer and harder against her.  If she loves this then just wait until she sees what’s next.  I pull back, her nipple exiting my mouth with a gentle pop as she shivers and looks up at me longingly.  Without a word, I grab her skirt and carefully pull it off her legs before moving in again and gently massaging and caressing my way up her legs and inner thighs, becoming almost certain she’s wet and hot for me right now as I begin pulling down her panties and see an undeniably moist cunt just begging to be filled.   “Manny, you’ve never been this good before.  I mean, it’s not that I wasn’t attracted to you before, but right now- OHHHHHH MANNNNYYYYYY!!!!!   OH MYYYY—–UNNNNNGGGG—YOU’VE NEVER- OH YES MANNY!!  YES YES YES!!!!” Jenna screams with ecstasy laced joy as I lean in and begin gently sliding Manny’s tongue inside her wet cunt, feeling the walls of her pussy clamp down on me in shock as I wiggle and set off a torrent of nerve endings.  Fuck yeah, Jenna’s cunt tastes so good!  I dig my tongue deeper, wiggling, sucking, rubbing her insides in all the right places, taking cues from when her legs twitch or when her back arches.  I pull out and find her clit, giving that special attention as I playfully lick her most sensitive bundle of nerves, daring to even gently nibble on it before kissing that fireball of nerves and migrating my tongue back inside her cunt.  I’m taking special care to massage and caress her squirming body, rubbing her lean core and feeling her back as it arches.  She especially loves it when I hoist her legs over my shoulders and caress my down her thighs before grabbing a firm hold of her ass and hips and pulling her cunt towards my lapping and thrusting tongue.   “ohhhhhhh Mannyyyyyy- I-I-I OH GOD!!!  SO—Ungggg-GooooooOOOODDDDD!  SO GOOD-OH YES YES YES YES” I go into turbo, swirling Manny’s long tongue inside her at unprecedented speeds and in all directions, setting off cascade after cascade of sensation inside her.  I start sucking with gusto, trying to taste as much of her pussy juices as I can, making her whole body literally wretch as I try to hold her squirming form down as I thrust my wiggling tongue inside her.   “Mannnnnnyyyyy- YOU-OH GOD- I CAN’T-I- OH PLEASE DON’T STOP!  I’M SO CLOSE I-“ I release her writhing hips just long enough to quickly slide Manny’s thick index finger inside her soaking wet cunt, along with Manny’s thrashing tongue as I begin finger fucking her, squirming that finger around and stretching her pussy ever so slightly as I pull my tongue out and latch on to her clit and begin wiggling Manny’s tongue and sucking that nerve bundle.   “MANNY!!!!!!!!!   I LOVE YOU MANNY!!!!!! OH YESSSSSS MANNY!!!!” Jenna screams with joy as her cunt starts bursting with the best orgasm of her life.  I can feel the walls of her cunt tightening so much it’s a struggle just to pull out my thrusting finger!  And her cunt starts leaking so many juices that a trickle starts oozing out, forcing me to quickly maneuver down and start sucking her delicious juices out of her, forcing my tongue back inside as I try to devour every last drop, extending her orgasm indefinitely as her back remains arched and it looks like she’s trying to scream but no sound is coming out.  I lap up the torrent of juices for at least 30 straight seconds, keeping her orgasm going on and on, making her body tremble with appreciation as she surprises me and grabs the back of my head, pulling me even deeper into the tight explosion of pleasure that is her cunt.  I devour this feast until her trembling slows to a halt and the fountain of juices dies down, finally pulling out after several minutes of non-stop orgasms for Jenna.  I look into her eyes, now aflame with absolute adoration and passion.  Her supple body is drenched in sweat and her breathing is so heavy I worry for her safety.  But underneath it all is a smile that lets me know I’ve given her what no one else ever has and what no one else ever will.   “Manny!” She exclaims between gasps, “That was- I’ve never- Oh my God, Manny that was incredible!  I-I-I love you, Manny!  I believe you, Manny.  Every word!  This is a new chapter for us, and I want to start it off right, so baby how about you take those pants off and fill me up.  Make me yours.  I want you inside me, use your cock and make me feel good,” Jenna says seductively as she begins rubbing my pre-cum leaking cock through the tent of Manny’s stained jeans.  I moan in approval as she unbuttons that denim and pulls down until Manny’s throbbing and leaking meat springs out right in front of her longing eyes. “mmmmmmm Baby I need it!  Please, Manny!  God you’ve changed!  Where did you learn that?!” Jenna moans between squealy gasps as she squeezes and curls her toes.  Those smooth legs are draped over my shoulders as I swirl Manny’s powerful tongue deep inside her cunt, slurping those juices that Manny, the fucking misogynistic prude,  would never even go near.  Fuck Manny, Jenna needs a real lover.  Jenna needs-“Your dick!  Please Manny!”I pull my tongue out of her pussy and just grin, still smack dab up against those pussy lips and licking all around.  She closes her eyes and tosses her head back as I just keep licking outside her cunt, also reaching up and grabbing her perfect boobs, squeezing not too hard that it hurts, but not too gently that she doesn’t feel absolutely and completely safe with me here to protect her and to fuck her.  “Are you sure you’re ready for this Jenna? Are you sure this is what you want?”“Yes!! Manny! I’ve never wanted anything more than this!”I retract away from her cunt and roll over to the side of the bed with Manny’s nightstand, sifting around and looking for a condom. I search around, finally finding that sealed latex when out of nowhere I feel Jenna’s hand resting firmly on mine.“No… Manny… You are not the man you used to be. I don’t know what happened to you, but I have never in my life felt the way I do right now. I can’t believe that I came here to end things for good because right now in this moment in time I honestly don’t want anything more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to feel you Manny… All of you. I want to feel you filling me up… Completing me in a way that only you can,” she says as she pushes my hand back down into the drawer, making me leave the condom in there as she guides me back to the bed.No!! What the fuck are you about to do?! Fuck man! You’re already using my body and shit! At least use some fucking protection! I’m not ready to be a dad! That’s not how I roll! Manny screams in his head as I pump his meat and get him fully hard while Jenna smiles adoringly at me as she gets on her back and spreads her legs, giving me full access to that tight pussy.Yeah, Manny. Well this is how I roll. Because I am Manny now. No one ever loved you! But now look! With me inside you, Jenna is utterly and madly in love. You’re a better person with me in here, a better man. You better accept your fate, and I really hope you enjoy this – because I plan on fucking conceiving your baby tonight.Manny is a mass of screams and resistance on the inside, but I’m able to silence them effortlessly. The forcefulness of his resistance is more than it’s ever been, but I’m already so deeply rooted inside his body that it now views me as the alpha consciousness. His body’s loyalty has permanently switched, and Manny will never again be anything more than a silent passenger who I occasionally allow to speak for the entertainment value.Damn, the waves of resistance crashing through my body actually feel pretty good.Oh Manny! Keep doing whatever you’re doing! Your pathetic attempts at fighting me are sending chills down my spine. Oh man – each time you try to take control I feel a little push coming from the inside that makes my cock twitch. Fuck! It’s turning me on so much! Manny, you’re just making me more and more turned on! It’s like you want me to fuck your load into Jenna’s pussy!I’m a little sad when the resistance stops because I stop feeling those waves of pressure surging through me from the inside, traveling down my spinal cord and ricocheting throughout Manny’s meaty body for converging on his throbbing cock which is dripping with pre-cum as I crawl onto the bed on all fours and begin moving myself on top of Jenna who is now squirming in anticipation.Her eyes shoot open as I start stretching that cunt and sliding the head in.“Nnnnnnnnggggggggggg , MANNY!”“You alright Babe?!”“I’m still just so sensitive from when you-nnngggggg- you know.  How much is left?”“I’m about halfway,” I tell her as I lean down and caress her face.  I pull her into a passionate kiss, relaxing her as we taste each other’s mouths.  When the moment is just right, I slam the last couple of inches into her, making her convulse from sensory overload as that sensitive cunt sends shockwaves crashing through her pussy and up her whole body.  “Agggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! MANNY!!!!” Jenna screams as she digs her nails into my back, making me growl as we both writhe together, joined in the most intimate way as I feel Jenna’s cunt trembling and squeezing my meat.“You’re so great babe!” I gasp as I start pulling out, feeling her cunt automatically tightening trying to keep me inside.  “NNNGGGG FUCCCKKKKK!!!!” I grunt as I drive my dick all the way back inside.  Jenna just gasps, a smile plastered across her face, lips in a wide open “O” with her toes curling wildly.  While I build up my rhythm, sliding in and out, grinding and using Manny’s powerful body to give Jenna what she needs, I feel Manny again.  I get shivers from the futile resistance.  This is too good!  I chuckle silently as I decide to let him speak.  P-p-please!!!!  You can’t!  This is wrong!  Get out of my fucking body!!!!!! The normally strong and confident Manny sobs in his mind.Face it Manny!  You dickhead fucker!  I’m a better Manny than you EVER were! I taunt him.  Have you ever seen Jenna this happy?!  Look how good I’m making her feel with your cock!  She has a REAL lover now.  Someone who can appreciate her and send her over the edge.  I growl back at the ever hopeless Manny.  B-b-but!I’m better than you!  Just give in!  You don’t have to fight it.  Just agree that I’m the real Manny and your life will be better than it ever was.  Manny went quiet for several moments, finally relenting: You’re right…I grin as I shut him up again, huffing and growling as I feel Manny’s robust nuts churning and pumping- getting this load ready to blow.  “I’m close!” I exclaim as I keep pumping Jenna full, kissing her tasty lips and squeezing those tender breasts.  “MANNY!  I- aaaagggghhhhhhHH!!!!!   I’m close too baby!  I- OH GOD!   Oh my GOD!!!!!” Jenna howls as the waves hit her sooner than expected.  Her whole body tenses up as I feel her cunt quivering, trembling as the orgasm builds up.  I thrust and pump into her faster and harder, driving this cock into her so she can have the orgasm she deserves.  “nnnnnnngggggggggggggggg MANNY!” Jenna screams as her eyes shoot wide open and she begins gasping for breath, trying to yell but no sound comes out.  The pressure building inside me reaches its limits as Jenna’s cunt starts vibrating with tension, squeezing me tight and milking me for all its worth.  I go into a frenzy, slamming into her- pumping her full as I feel Manny’s baby cream flowing through into Manny’s cock before I thrust all the way back inside, howling wildly as the first load rockets out of me deep into Jenna’s hungry pussy.  We both howl unintelligibly, grinding and thrusting against each other as we have the best orgasms of our lives.  Our sweaty bodies glisten with pure joy as we calm down, my mass comfortably pinning her down to the bed as our breathing slows back to normal.  Jenna stares at me in amazement for a blissful second before pulling me into a gentle kiss.  “That was amazing, Manny.”I shut her up with my mouth while we cuddle away into the night.  As we go to sleep I feel a warmth deep inside as I prepare to live Manny’s life to the fullest- Because I am Manny now.  

[vantekay]

the simple things ||kth

word count: 3.6k

estimated reading time: surprise! I didn’t read this one either. I will eventually come back and read all of these and time them but I’ve been too busy after briefly proofreading and editing to actually sit and read these in their entirety but I will, just you wait!

genre(s): so much fluff

warning(s): taehyung says damn at one point but besides that nothing, some of these are really short in comparison to the other valentine drabble but I just thought they were better that way so I apologize in advance also I got really carried away with the last one ahh but it’s so cute shut up :( I really just :(((((

“lately you’ve been getting me home safely”

after a long day of practicing dances over and over in an attempt to perfect them before the next comeback, taehyung finds himself beyond exhausted. at the end of yet another long practice, he sits inside the overheated room, breathing heavily as he shoots you a text.

[12:56am] baby? you still up? [12:58am] kim taehyung I swear to god if you’re messaging me for nudes right now… [1:00am] no you nasty, I was gonna ask if you wouldn’t mind picking me up from practice, I’m so tired :( [1:03am] oh of course love, do you even need to ask? give me a minute to get my coat on

taehyung smiles down at the conversation one last time before shutting his phone off and sinking down to the floor, pressed up against the wall as he allows his muscles to rest until you arrive. normally taehyung would walk home after practice, seeing as it was only a 15 minute walk from yours to the dorms, but today he was so exceptionally tired that he didn’t think he would have been able to stand for another minute. as taehyung sits and waits for you to arrive, he falls asleep on the floor. you walk into the room about 5 minutes after texting taehyung only to find him slumped over against the wall with his bag clutched in his arms tightly, fast asleep. you giggle quietly before walking towards his frame. “taehyungie~ wake up baby” you whisper once you finally get closer to him. he whines in his sleep before shifting and you laugh again, this time a little louder. you watch taehyung’s eyelids flutter open as he squints up at you, eyesight adjusting to the bright lights after his small nap. his squinting quickly turns into a half lidded gaze accompanied by a sleepy smile as he gets up off the floor to embrace you in a hug, one where he rests his heavy head on your shoulder and hums contentedly, placing a small kiss to your neck. you giggle softly while playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, turning your head slightly to speak softly into his ear, “you know this would probably be comfier if we were at home in bed..” you trail off and suddenly taehyung is energized. he releases you from his hug and runs for the door. you laugh before shaking your head, trailing after your boyfriend so you can get him home to bed as soon as possible.

“we don't ever fight cause you don't blow up my phone when you're home alone assuming that I'm doing what a guy does”

taehyung has always loved that you were never one to get jealous or insecure about your relationship easily. you had told him that you didn’t mind him going out and enjoying himself, that you never wanted to be the type of girlfriend who stopped their boyfriend from going out with their friends and having fun. you trusted taehyung and you knew he would never cheat on you or allow for another female to make moves on him because he loved you so much. with that being said, the first time he had gone out when you had begun dating, his friends were shocked to say the least. they kept asking him questions like “why isn’t y/n texting you?” “is she not worried about all the girls that are here?” “she’s not insecure about another female idol trying to hit on you while she’s not around?” and more. taehyung always laughed at his friends and explained that you and him had such an amazing amount of trust for each other that the both of you could go out and enjoy time with friends without the other feeling jealous or insecure. taehyung knew you would never even look in the direction of another man, worried that it could give off the wrong impression to the other party and ignite a conversation you were never found of having. “yes I have a boyfriend”, “no he’s not here with me”, “yes I love him”, “no I won’t come have some fun with you” and so on. tae remembers one time when he was in america and they went out to celebrate winning the BBMA and how awkward he felt around all the other american artists. he knew none of the females meant any harm, but he hated how he had to pretend he wasn’t in a loving relationship with you when they all asked the same questions: “got any girls lined up after the party?” “do you guys have a special somebody cheering you on from back home?” “are any of you dating yet?”. it always took everything in taehyung to not mention you, his girlfriend of nearly a year now, but he never did. he knew what revealing your relationship could do to it. he knew that the hate would be horrible and unending and he didn’t want you to have to go through that so you both agreed to keep your relationship secret until the popularity of his band had died down a bit. he hated it, and he was sure you hated it even more, sitting at home watching him answer aforementioned questions with a frown on his face as he shook his head. you knew he hated it, but you also understood that there was nothing he could do about it. most would think that with your relationship being secretive that you would be even more nervous about taehyung possibly hooking up with someone since- to the media at least- he was single, but you knew the truth and you knew taehyung would never betray your trust that way. it should also be mentioned that taehyung was quite literally head over heels in love with you and always reassured you of this. as soon as he was done with award shows and after parties, he would call you to complain about how much he hated having to act like he was single when he knew you were sitting there watching him lie. you would always smile and agree, loving that you had one of the most loyal and caring boyfriends in the world as you assured him that as long as you both knew the truth, it didn’t matter what the public thought.

“even loved by my family, that’s a must”

taehyung is a family man. that being said, he knew he would have to find a girlfriend who had the same goals in life as he did, wanting to have a big family. taehyung remembers when you both had first talked about the future, how nervous he was to talk about it because he didn’t want you to say that you didn’t want kids because then he would have to break up with you, and he loved you so much he really couldn’t see himself living the rest of his life with another woman. taehyung had spent the night worrying his bottom lip, trying to find a way to bring up the conversation topic he had been dreading for weeks. finally he decided to ask you in the blackness of the night, when you were cuddled up in his arms with your head resting on his chest. the words came out of his mouth in a hushed whisper. “do you want to have kids someday love bug?” you moved your head to glance up at tae with curious eyes, before moving your head back down and looking outside of the window in your bedroom in thought. “I would like to have kids someday, yeah. but not until your career dies down a bit and I get a bit of a more stable job so that I know we can support the kids.” you hummed and taehyung’s breath hitched in his throat. he cleared it before speaking again, his voice slightly louder this time. 

“kids? as in multiple? like, more than one child? multiple children?” taehyung breathed out and you giggled lightly as you brought a hand up to playfully smack his chest. “yes silly, multiple kids. as in more than one. as in I want to have as many kids as possible with you because,” you paused to sit up a bit hovering slightly over his frame, eyes boring into his, “have you ever thought about how gorgeous and talented and thoughtful our kids would be? I mean, your looks, my thoughtfulness, a bit of our talent and we’ve got our own little band of child prodigies!” you exclaim excitedly, practically jumping from your previous spot above taehyung to your side of the bed as your hands move animatedly in the air. taehyung’s eyes sparkle as he stares at you with the utmost love in his chocolate irises. “marry me” he whispers and your face quickly morphed into one from hopefulness about the future to shock and confusion about the words he just uttered into the dead of night. “w-what did you just say?” you ask and taehyung sits up straight against the headboard, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. the fire in his eyes is massive and you thought for a moment that you might just combust into flames from his gaze.

 “I said marry me. this isn’t how I imagined proposing to you, especially since we haven’t had our one year anniversary yet but my god y/n you are the woman of my dreams and I’ll be damned if I let you get away from me”. taehyung confesses and you feel your heart fill to the brink with love for the man in front of you. you quickly throw yourself in his direction, landing on his chest with a small thump as you mumble a string of yes’s into his shirt. taehyung giggles before asking “what? sorry I can’t hear you through my shirt, love” and you pull your face out of the material to repeat the word for him, clear and loud in the otherwise silence of the room. “yes taehyung, god of course I’ll marry you. I can’t believe you would think you were getting away from me that easily. besides, your mom loves me and would probably beat you with a shoe if she heard we broke up”. at this, you and taehyung both laugh, his deep and yours slightly quieter before you let the laughter fade. this situation makes a light bulb go off in your head and suddenly you realize why tae was so nervous and distant earlier in the day. “did you think I didn’t want to have kids? is that why you’ve been a bit distant today?” you question with a tilt of your head and taehyung lowers his, softly nodding his head once its lowered to cover his reddening cheeks and ears. you giggle before placing a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look up at you with big puppy dog eyes. “please don’t feel nervous to ask me things, especially when it concerns the future of our relationship”. you whisper as you move your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cupping it in your hand and running your thumb along it causing taehyung to blush more. “okay love, I’m sorry I just. part of me was worried you didn’t want to have kids and then I would have to break up with you cause, ya’know, I love kids and I really want some of my own and I can’t see myself having kids with anyone else but you” taehyung says and you smile, leaning forward a bit to place a soft kiss on his lips. “even if I didn’t want kids, you would have probably changed my mind. seeing how gentle you are with kids is enough to make any woman's uterus burst” you tease and taehyung giggles before pulling you back down to lay with him. “thank you” he whispers into your hair and you leave the conversation at that, allowing tae to hold you tightly in his arms as the both of you drift off to sleep. 

“my song comes on and you dance and sing too” 

to be fair, taehyung wasn't supposed to find you like this, dancing around horribly in the living room of your shared apartment with songs his band has made blasting from the speakers as you attempt to belt out the notes alongside them in nothing but one of his oversized hoodies. taehyung leans against the door frame of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest, a small smile playing on his lips as he admires you. you turn around to start singing again when you spot him. you drop your hand from in front of your mouth since moments prior you were using it as a makeshift microphone and stare dumbly at your boyfriend. taehyung giggles from his spot and pushes himself off of the door frame, walking towards you quickly. you squeal before running away from him. you first run for the kitchen, using it as a gateway to get to the bedroom but before you know it taehyung is lifting you up into the air with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. you kick your legs out in front of you as he places his head in the crook of your neck and makes obnoxious noises as he messily kisses you there. “baby,” you wheeze out between laughs, “please put my down” you lightly pinch his arm and he finally places you down. he keeps a firm grasp on your wrist so you can’t run away from him again and finally speaks to you. “that was adorable, you’re so cute” he coos as he pulls you closer to him and wraps you up in a bone crushing hug, making all kinds of baby noises as he rocks your bodies back and forth. you laugh again and try to escape his grasp before you give up and instead opt for explaining. “you weren’t supposed to see that, I didn’t think you would be coming home so early” you state with a blush growing on your face and now it’s taehyung’s turn to laugh. “but it was so cute! you should do that more often. actually, we should go do it together! I can teach you the dances!” taehyung says excitedly and he doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s dragging you back into the living room and putting on a random song on the playlist you had playing, recalling the choreo for it and beginning to teach it to you. it doesn’t last long before your sitting on the ground in defeat and whining about not being able to get the moves right. taehyung pulls you back up again and just does silly dance moves with you like you were when he first came home. it’s moments like these that make taehyung especially thankful for meeting you and being able to be with you in times like these, getting to let loose from his stressful schedules and just mess around with you.

“and it’s the simple things you say, and how in bed we play, it’s the way you kiss my cheek when you think that I’m asleep, I love it so much”

you roll over in bed to face taehyung, running a hand down his cheek softly before placing your lips softly onto the space, leaving a kiss where your hand once was. his eyes flutter open, a small smile spreading across his face and you smile back. “you know, the greatest thing I think I’ve ever had the privilege of laying my sight on is probably that smile of yours” you whisper softly and taehyung’s cheeks instantly heat up. “stop it” taehyung whines, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “awe, is my baby blushing?” you coo in a sickly sweet voice and taehyung whines again, turning himself over in the bed so his back is to you. “awe don’t be like that tae, I was just joking around” you pouted, placing a hand on his back and rubbing it slowly. he turns back around to face you, cheeks still lightly dusted over with his blush from moments prior. “so you didn’t mean what you said about my smile?” he pouts and you giggle, leaning forward slightly to place a light kiss on his pout. “of course I meant that, I meant I was just teasing when you started blushing. but you’re so cute when you get all flustered I just couldn’t help it” you smile and pinch his cheeks slightly, making taehyung blush yet again. he doesn’t let it affect him as much as it had the first time and before you know it, taehyung has lifted himself off of the bed and is now hovering above you menacingly. you stare up at him with a furrow in your brow and your head slightly tilted. “is this new position supposed to scare me? because it’s not working” you smirk but tae mimics your smirk and quickly situates himself down on your lap and begins tickling your sides roughly. you scream out, tears quickly gathering at the corners of your eyes as taehyung laughs and continues to attack your sides. you attempt to stop his hands but your efforts are futile, taehyung giggling deeply as you squirm beneath him. “this is what you get for making me all flustered” he states from above you but his voice sounds far away, your mind too occupied with trying to get taehyung to stop before you run out of oxygen in your lungs from how hard your laughing in pain. “tae, tae please I can’t breathe stop, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, please!” you attempt to get out of his hold once more and you finally manage to throw him off. he lands on his side of the bed with a huff and you breathe hard and heavy in and out of your nose, hand on your chest to help steady your breathing. beside you, taehyung is laughing maniacally, all loud and crazy as he throttles himself around. you turn your head to glare at him, eyes squinted into a thin line to try and make it seem like you’re mad at him. taehyung finally stops laughing enough to turn and return your gaze, holding his lips closed firmly as he tries not to burst out laughing again at your expression.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight you meanie” you say as angrily as you can, getting up off the bed and walking towards the bedroom door to leave. taehyung quickly gets up off the bed and grabs you by the waist, pulling you towards his frame until your back is firmly pressed up against his chest. he leans down to bite at your earlobe teasingly, whispering in your ear afterwards, “no you aren’t. you’re staying right here with me jagiya” and with that he swiftly walks your bodies back to the bed until he falls against it, the both of you still pressed together. you laugh before swatting at his arms around your waist. “okay okay fine, let me go now” and taehyung releases you. you quickly get up from the bed and run out of the room, prompting taehyung to get up and chase after you. “hey! get back here!” taehyung yells as he laughs. when he enters the living room he finds you standing behind the couch, hands placed on the back of it as you rock back and forth on your feet, prepared to bolt in either direction when taehyung decides to attack. taehyung playfully growls before making a move for it, coming at you from the right side. you run to your left, avoiding him and running towards the kitchen. you hear taehyung yell as he gets closer to you and you laugh. when you turn to see where he has gone, your lifted off of your feet and swung over taehyung’s back. you begin thrusting your hands against his back, pounding it as you plead for him to let you go. he just chuckles, carrying you back to the bedroom. you finally give up, sighing and going limp in his grasp as he places you down on the bed on your back, standing in front of your legs so you can’t get up again. he laughs lightly before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“you’re my whole world, did you know that?” he whispers as he pulls away and you feel a blush creeping up your neck and spreading itself across your cheeks. taehyung giggles before mimicking your earlier actions, running his hand softly across your cheek. “awe, is my baby blushing?” he coos and all you can do is blush harder, attempting to hide your face from him with your hands. “I hate you” you mumble behind them and he laughs, tugging at your wrists to remove them from your face. “no you don’t, you tell me you love me all the time when you think I’m asleep and then you kiss my cheeks too” taehyung states matter-of-factly and your cheeks get even hotter. “oh my god!” you cry out and roll over on the bed so your face is buried in the blanket. “I can’t believe you pretend to be asleep” you say and even though your voice is slightly muffled taehyung still hears you, laughing as he sits on the bed next to where you lay. he places his hand in your hair and strokes it lovingly. “it’s cute, I love when you do it” he says softly and you lift your head up to gaze at him, the blush still dusting your cheeks. “really?” you question and taehyung nods before pulling on your arm and tugging you into his lap. “yes, now can we go back to cuddling like we were earlier? I’m cold” he pouts and you laugh before nodding and getting comfortable on the bed. taehyung has always loved that you were never one to get jealous or insecure about your relationship easily. you had told him that you didn’t mind him going out and enjoying himself, that you never wanted to be the type of girlfriend who stopped their boyfriend from going out with their friends and having fun. you trusted taehyung and you knew he would never cheat on you or allow for another female to make moves on him because he loved you so much. with that being said, the first time he had gone out when you had begun dating, his friends were shocked to say the least. they kept asking him questions like “why isn’t y/n texting you?” “is she not worried about all the girls that are here?” “she’s not insecure about another female idol trying to hit on you while she’s not around?” and more. taehyung always laughed at his friends and explained that you and him had such an amazing amount of trust for each other that the both of you could go out and enjoy time with friends without the other feeling jealous or insecure. taehyung knew you would never even look in the direction of another man, worried that it could give off the wrong impression to the other party and ignite a conversation you were never found of having. “yes I have a boyfriend”, “no he’s not here with me”, “yes I love him”, “no I won’t come have some fun with you” and so on. tae remembers one time when he was in america and they went out to celebrate winning the BBMA and how awkward he felt around all the other american artists. he knew none of the females meant any harm, but he hated how he had to pretend he wasn’t in a loving relationship with you when they all asked the same questions: “got any girls lined up after the party?” “do you guys have a special somebody cheering you on from back home?” “are any of you dating yet?”. it always took everything in taehyung to not mention you, his girlfriend of nearly a year now, but he never did. he knew what revealing your relationship could do to it. he knew that the hate would be horrible and unending and he didn’t want you to have to go through that so you both agreed to keep your relationship secret until the popularity of his band had died down a bit. he hated it, and he was sure you hated it even more, sitting at home watching him answer aforementioned questions with a frown on his face as he shook his head. you knew he hated it, but you also understood that there was nothing he could do about it. most would think that with your relationship being secretive that you would be even more nervous about taehyung possibly hooking up with someone since- to the media at least- he was single, but you knew the truth and you knew taehyung would never betray your trust that way. it should also be mentioned that taehyung was quite literally head over heels in love with you and always reassured you of this. as soon as he was done with award shows and after parties, he would call you to complain about how much he hated having to act like he was single when he knew you were sitting there watching him lie. you would always smile and agree, loving that you had one of the most loyal and caring boyfriends in the world as you assured him that as long as you both knew the truth, it didn’t matter what the public thought. 

[lushloki-blog]

Can’t take my eyes off of you

Can’t take my eyes off of you-Peter Parker x reader

A/N: I’ve been listening to this song nonstop. The song can be listened to here if you’re on desktop. (3:20 really made my heart clench) I would add a link for spotify (mobile) but they removed the song for some reason :( I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

lyrics in italics and bold

Title: Can’t take my eyes off of you

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: fluff overload!

Wordcount: 2236

Summary: Everyone knew that Peter was madly in love with you, gosh darn it did you make his heart flutter. Basically Peter showing you the love you deserve!

★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━  ★ ━ ★ ━ ★ ━  ★ ━ ★ ━ ★

You always had a plan. Even if the plan wasn’t good, you had one. Organization was always key to success, is something you would tell yourself. Planning what to wear, how to study, planning your day, it was your cycle. You didn’t like to break your cycle because that was definitely not part of the plan. But of course the universe had other plans for you. Peter Parker and love were not apart of your plan. Your plan did not include late night calls talking on the phone, or staying up late at night when Spidey was out on patrol, middle of the day cuddles on his bed with your bodies intertwined. He might have not been apart of your plan, but you were sure as hell grateful for him.

You’re just too good to be true

Peter had never met such an understanding and compassionate person such as you. You understood him more than he did himself sometimes. You knew that he had a moral duty to Mr. Stark and the city that he promised himself to fulfill. You never once questioned where he was, you just greeted him with open arms and warm smile. You just always knew what to say, when patrol went good or bad, if he managed to save everybody, or if he just stepped on gum walking home. No matter what was going on in his crazy and hectic life, you were always his anchor to bring him back down to reality. He sometimes thought that he wouldn’t be able to be Spider-Man without you.

I can’t take my eyes off of you

The best mornings, according to Peter, were the ones where you would sleep over with him on a weekend, and he would open his eyes to your beautiful face. His heart would beat a hundred times per minute when he would take you all in. With your eyes closed, facing him, he would appreciate the beauty in front of him. From your head, down to your toes there was not one thing Peter would change about you. Just by looking at you, Peter felt such immense love and appreciation for your existence.

You’d be like heaven to touch

His soft fingertips would trail on your forehead, ever so lightly so he does not wake you, down between your eyes, to the beautiful curve of your nose, then down to your angelic perfect lips. He moved to cup your cheek and placed a soft peck on your delicate mouth. Your subconscious made you ever so slightly smile, even though you were asleep. God dammit you had him putty in your hand without even trying. The boyish smile that seemed to be permanently plastered on his face when he was with you made his cheeks hurt. 

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived 

And I thank God I’m alive

“This is Y/N, you know what to do.” Peter sighed as his call went straight to voicemail again. You had promised to come over but you were running half an hour late. It was a hot summer night in New York, and he really wanted you next to him as a light breeze washed over your warm bodies on his bed. He didn’t get to see you day today, and it didn’t help that patrol had been rough. Of course on the hottest possible day did everyone decide to be a criminal. Peter was so tired and really needed you next him right now. Not only was his day extremely long, but he couldn’t save someone today because he was too late. The officer to arrive first at the robbery did not wait for backup, and the robber shot him. Peter felt guilty for not being more efficient with his time.

 If only he had asked Karen for-”Ugh, I’m so sorry babe I took a nap and I didn’t wake up from my alarm.” You didn’t knock as you entered his room. You just saw him and you knew. Taking your shoes off you just laid down and dragged him down with you. Running your fingers through his floppy hair, you kissed his forehead as his arms snaked around your body, hiding his head in the crook of your neck. You kept your fingers running through his hair and kissed the top of his head again. “You did your absolute best Peter. That’s all this city could ever ask of you.” You whispered into his ear, making him shake his head. “No, I wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t use my time right. He won’t get to go home like to his family like I do. I just feel like if I were bet-” You rolled over to your side and looked him dead in the eyes stopping him mid sentence. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, do not, and I mean do not ever feel like you are not good enough. You are out there risking yourself for the greater good. Your heart is made of gold Peter, and the world does not deserve it. You will always be more than enough because you’re just that amazing. You did what your fucking best and damn whoever says it’s not enough.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips then cupping his cheeks as you rested your forehead against his. “Don’t doubt yourself baby. You are absolutely amazing.” You whispered against his lips. He finally connected your lips with his. The kiss was slow, but full of love and passion that you could feel in your core. His hand would move to hold on to your hips as your hands moved up to his hair. He would be so lost without you by his side.

Pardon the way that I stare 

There’s nothing else to compare

The sight of you makes me weak

You had just finished getting ready for prom and you were looking at yourself in the mirror, when there was a knock at your front door. You ran down the stairs knowing it was Peter and his aunt. Your mother opened the door to reveal your dashing boyfriend with the same boyish smile he always had around you. You left him with his mouth slightly agape as you looked you up and down. His legs felt like jelly as soon as he saw you in that red dress. Your hair was beautifully curled but was pulled back in a half up half down do to frame your pretty face. The makeup you had was light and minimal except for the dramatic lip that matched your dress. Peter was at a loss for words on how extravagant you looked. A warm blush covered your cheeks as Peter just stared without saying a word. Your father cleared the silence as he let out a loud cough causing aunt May and your mom to smile to themselves. Peter was dragged out of his trance as he fumbles with his corsage. “I-wow-you just-amazing-woah.” Were the only words Peter could form as he walked towards you, making you giggle. “Right back at you Parker.” You smirked at him as it was his turn to blush. “It’s just, you really do look breathtakingly beautiful Y/N. Truly.” He grabbed onto your hands as he spoke, pulling you into a trance with him until your mom snapped a picture with the flash on pulling you back to reality. “Mom really?” You blinked repeatedly as the light was unexpected. “Oh shush Y/N. You two just look adorable. Don’t they?” Aunt May and your father agreed. You smiled shyly and looked back up at Peter. “Let’s take pictures yeah? I feel like it’s going to be a while until I see you you in a suit.” He kissed your cheek lovingly and smiled back. “Sure thing darling.” He felt like he had the most heavenly girlfriend ever. 

There are no words left to speak 

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know this is real

Before you and peter were a couple, he would toss and turn on his bed, not being able to get you out of his mind. You were his only thought that would cloud his mind at some point during the day. He just wanted to tell you how he felt and have you feel the same way so he could hold your hand, kiss your forehead and lips, pull you close and call you his. But when he wanted to speak his mind went on override and just combusted on the spot. His tongue would fall numb and his brain would fall blank. Sometimes he would think that you felt the same way he did. Because you would give him the same looks that lasted a little too long, or would hold his hand for no reason as he walked you home sometimes. He swore you felt the same, but his negative thoughts would always win, making him think you only did it because you felt bad for not liking him back. But he couldn’t stand it any longer. You had your arm linked around his as you walked in comfortable silence when he stopped in his tracks and turned his body to look at you. “Y/N I need to tell you something.” The nervousness could be heard in his voice. “What is it Peter?.. Did you leave something at-” He could hear the gears in his turning on overdrive. It was now or never. “I like you. Like a lot. I like like you.” You opened your eyes wide and let go of his arm. You were at a loss of words as you looked at him all bug eyed. “You-you do?” Of course you would be shocked, you always thought that he liked MJ, they would see each more at school. “Heck yeah I do Y/N. How could I not? Do you not feel the same? You can’t tell me you can’t feel this connection that feels too real?” You couldn’t deny it, he was right. Grabbing his hands you kissed his cheek. “Always the drama queen.” You giggled. “But yes, Peter Parker, I feel it too.” You smile met your eyes, and from that moment on, your smile would continue to leave him gasping for air. 

I love you baby 

And if it’s quite alright 

I need you baby 

To warm a lonely night 

Even after being together as a couple for a while, Peter had never gotten tired of being a tangled mess with you in bed. Especially during the cold winters of New York when he had the perfect excuse to hold you as close as he wanted. He loved that there could be comfortable silence between the both of you as you both drew random figures on each other skin with your fingertips. The cold nights were perfect nights to Peter, and you could not convince him otherwise. 

The pressure of your body against his made him feel grounded and dizzy at the same time. With nothing but positive thoughts, he would lay his head on your stomach and your fingers would automatically play with his hair. It had been awhile since he had seen you, with you know, being disintegrated into dust. 

You would cry yourself to sleep sometimes hugging his pillow that you took from his room, pretending it was his scent that would lure you to sleep and not your migraine. Or that it was his arms keeping you warm and not your blanket. He would never leave you alone again. You both don’t know what you would do if you weren’t together again. It made your relationship be seen in a different light. Each moment would be appreciated 100 times more now. 

Oh pretty baby 

Don’t bring me down I pray 

Oh pretty baby 

Now that I found you stay 

Before either of you discovered how the other felt, Peter was like a lost puppy following you around. You had him wrapped around your little finger and he did not mind at all. Whether it was to help you with school or even just someone to rant to you both were there for each other. No matter what. You were there for Peter when he needed to rant about Spider-Man. To Peter they were one in the same, but not you. Peter was your best friend, your rock, your savior. Spider-Man was the savior of the city. No matter how you saw Spidey or Peter, it was lonely for him being Spider-Man. But not that he would ever complain because he is more than grateful, but you knew him better than he thought. You knew that he would often doubted himself and his ability to save the city. Some days would be harder than others for him, but you always knew the right thing to say. You always knew what he needed, and he would forever be grateful for your love and trust in him. It was because of the amount of support that you gave him he was able to wake up and be proud to call himself Spider-Man. Sometimes, Peter would lay awake at night alone in his bed thinking on where he would be without you. It hurt him to think of such things, but all he knew is that he never wanted you to leave his side. Eventually, the thought of you would lull him to sleep.

[rhymingteelookatme]

lingua volgare - pt. 1

In which the right time is elusive enough, but the right words are even scarcer.

Words: 1619 of 3032

~Prologue~

We've been together for—gods, for ages now. Makes me dizzy to think about it. About her: my sweet, headstrong, ridiculously romantic Liv, who talks a mile a minute in the height of her feelings and is perfectly sincere about every word… no matter how much I might threaten to combust on the spot.

But this time. This time. I'm going to turn the tables. I’ll be the one who makes her blush. After that stunt with the dress, my honor as a lover demands it—and there’s really only one thing I can possibly do to outmatch her.

If she’s asked me to marry her once, she’s asked me a dozen times… per week, in her moonier moments.

But this time, Livorette will be the one who is asked.

--

Sixth Sun, Third Umbral Moon

It’s too hot in here.

At least, Gogoha thinks so. The Gold Saucer is warm at the best of times; being out in the midst of the Sagolii, it can hardly be helped. But of course today is the beginning of the annual Make It Rain Campaign, and even more people than usual have descended upon the place in a rush to ride, gamble and play themselves sick. So… hot. It’s hot.

She hadn’t thought they’d be spending today here, of all days: the anniversary of their first meeting, six years ago. But Livorette had gotten that look on her face, with her eyes all sparkling excitement and an eager tilt to her mouth, and Gogoha had given in without a second thought. Very few things—sapient or no—can resist that face; Gogoha suspects it might have been honed by making flowers bloom.

So here is Gogoha, all done up in celeste-green dyed gear from her silk spider lily wreath to the tops of her shoes, following her long-legged love through the Saucer’s gaily lit halls. Livorette is even taller today, thanks to the wedge heels on her thigh-high leather boots, which she has (bizarrely) elected to pair with the thick white sweater that was Gogo’s most recent Starlight gift. Complete with fluttering pink scarf over her shoulders. Even considering the tiny shorts hidden below the hem of said sweater, Gogoha cannot understand how her dear isn’t outright roasting with every step.

“Next event is this way!” Livy calls with a grin and a little pirouette, like the giddy gazelle that she is. Ridiculous. Gogoha  quickens her step to catch up.

--

Well, it is even hotter now. The event in question turned out to be ‘Leap of Faith,’ one of the Saucer’s two timed jumping-puzzle courses; Gogoha had quickly reached the top of the run and spent the remaining minutes waiting in vain for her dear to catch up.

“Wretched legs,” Livorette groans, only half jokingly, from her impromptu seat on the floor. “What is the earthly good of having them, I swear they’re only made of disobedient knees…”

“Could have fooled me,” Gogoha tells her. “But you didn’t do that badly; I was watching. You made it halfway up a lot of times—you just had a little trouble with judging your distances.”

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘serves you right for climbing in heels.’”

“I was trying to be nice.”  

“Usually they do listen,” Livorette laments. “Must have gotten out on the wrong side of the bed, and took until now to let me know about it. Wretched, wretched legs…”

Gogoha tsks. “All right, enough of that. We should get something to drink before we do anything else.”

They climb the sloping path to the second floor, the nap of the red carpet springing back under their feet. The sounds of music and chatter, bells and boasts, seem to get louder as they go higher- rippling endlessly across each other in the top of the ceiling. Gogoha trails a little behind, watching the edges of Livorette's shorts flash in and out of view.

What? She's allowed.

Upon arrival in the Manderville Lounge, they proceed to astound the bartender by requesting-

“Water?” the man says, his eyes nearly as wide as the eponymous saucers.

“Please,” Livorette answers. Then, because the poor fellow really seems disappointed, “With a lemon slice in, if you have one?”

“Very well, miss.” To console himself, he adds not only the slice but a twist of rind on the glass's rim. “And for you, miss?” he adds to Gogoha.

She is badly tempted to ask for the hardest-hitting drink he's got, but she knows it won't help her thirst. “Er... same as her, if you don't mind.”

He clearly does, but he pours the second water with good grace. Gogoha takes it, slides him the necessary gil, and proceeds to down the whole thing in a couple of gulps. She still feels overheated.

Should she say it now...?

But the bartender might hear. Besides—before she can open her mouth, there are the event bells again, and Livorette turns to her with eyes a-sparkle.

“Of course,” Gogoha answers her unspoken question. “Off with us.”

–

It's the airplane ride this time. Air Force One, they call it. Gogoha takes great pleasure in hitting every target. If only she could find the moment to say what she must, and say it, as easily.

Pow, look Livorette in the eyes. Pow, actually use her voice. Pow, form the words she’s started to plan out. Pow, see those blue-gray eyes go wide with surprise, hear those pink-stained lips form the answer she’s almost sure she’ll receive... 

“High score!” the attendant cheers as Gogoha steps from her plane. “Well done, miss!”

“High score?” Livorette repeats, delighted. “Oh Gogo! That deserves a prize. Anything you like, right now, what do you say?”

Five minutes alone with you! Really alone!  is on the tip of Gogoha’s tongue. And yet she cannot say it. 

“I... We can save it,” she ends up replying, for the bells are ringing yet again. 

“Are you sure?”

“You know I won’t forget it. Besides... we came here to play, didn’t we?” 

Livorette beams. “Race you!” 

Gogoha actually beats her, out of sheer determination. 

‘Any Way the Wind Blows’ is an absolutely awful name for a game which amounts to nothing more than hoping to dodge a foul creature’s breath, but what the hells. To Gogoha’s surprise, she lucks out more than once. On the third gust, however, she is not so fortunate; she skids off the stage and lands directly in the surrounding fountain. 

Cool at last. Gogoha sits submerged well past the waist, determinedly not thinking of how annoying it will be when she has to get out and go to whatever damn thing is on next. Squish, squish across the carpet in wet stockings. Whoever designed the Saucer really ought to have thought twice before putting aqueous decoration around a platform off which guests are likely to fall. 

Then again, it may have been done on purpose.

Lovely, lovely cool water. Gogoha seriously considers lying down right where she is. Next moment, she no longer needs to consider: there is an enormous splash as Livorette crashes into the water beside her and achieves exactly the same effect. 

“Ow! -Oh no, Gogo, I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “Your poor wreath- your hair- are you all right?” 

Gogoha opens her mouth to respond, then finds it suddenly harder to breathe. For in her landing, Livorette has drenched the both of them, and if there’s one thing that always leaves Gogoha lost for words- well. 

“I'm sure they'll bring us towels if we ask. We just need to get-” Livorette attempts to rise, but slips. “Oh drat...”

Being that she’s not really of a height to help, Gogoha can only watch her dear make the next two or three tries. As Livorette never gets far off the ground, the resulting splashes are small, and indeed refreshing: particularly on her cheeks, which seem to be warmer by the second. Mayhap they should simply spend the rest of their date right here.

“Oh for gods’ sake,” Livorette huffs. “That’s it, to hells with dignity.” So saying, she rolls to one side; getting her knees under her, she crawls up the slope from fountain to carpet and stands in triumph. “Finally. Gogoha, do you need…”

She trails off, staring. As well she might, for Gogoha feels her face is on fire now, and no amount of water (however restorative) will quench it. The view just now was spectacular.

“Why Gogoha Goha,” Livorette says softly, a mischievous light beginning to kindle in her eyes. “You’re sitting there on purpose, aren’t you?”

“No,” Gogoha answers, automatically, though it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“You are,” Livorette grins. “I might have known! We could have gone to Costa del Sol instead. Oh darling, why didn’t you tell me you just fancied a bit of swimming?”

“Didn’t want to disappoint you…”

“Noble soul!” Livorette presses a hand to her chest; a few trickles of water well up beneath her palm and run down to fall from the sweater hem. “But all the same, my love, we really ought to get you out of there.” The mischief-light twinkles brighter. “I still owe you your prize—or no, don’t tell me… is this what you want?”

She’s about to strike a pose. Right there, in her water-retentive sweater, in the damp-darkened pink scarf. One long leg is on the point of extending. Gogoha, in a sudden panic, scrambles to her feet and scoops a double handful of water right into her dear’s face.

There is a brief pause.

Slowly, Livorette pushes her fringe off her brow, scrubs the water out of her eyes. Her lips curl into a wicked smile.

“I see,” she says.

And just like that, it’s on.

--

[Part 2 here!]

[colitisandme]

‘In  Lockdown’

‘It’s Shingles’ she confirmed in a brusque manner, pulled down my top and then strolled back to her laptop. I inaudibly groaned.  ‘I have a compromised immune system’  I squeaked at her, cursing the fact that again my unco-operative and hyperactive body had got too feisty with itself for its own good. She eyed me suspiciously over her glasses and, with all the bedside manner of a bath sponge retorted with a snort, ‘We don’t treat Shingles anymore’.  I tried explaining through crossed eyeballs and gritted teeth that I had a chronic health condition and as a result my immune system basically beats itself up and everything else around it on a daily basis, and she again repeated her last sentence, thanked me for coming and ushered me out of the door.  I sighed and shuffled out of the door, defeated.  Couldn’t have been a cold? A stubbed toe? fungus? But no.... Shingles?!  Marvellous.

The last time I had shingles, was two years ago, down my right arm. It made it impossible to grip anything, lift my arm and pretty much ravaged my body for 2 solid weeks and was so painful; I could have quite cheerfully gnawed my own arm off to stop the pain. So I was absolutely thrilled that I was about to go through the experience again. This time the rash was left of my spine, which meant I was looking forward to 10 days of pretty much avoiding all contact with surfaces, backs of settees, taking showers where I would have to wash only half my body,  desperately trying to twist myself into some horrible pretzel shape as with bulging eyes, sweaty face and with grinding teeth, try to fold myself in half in order to avoid any water on my back, having to practically levitate or hang from the ceiling like a bat, to try and get some sleep and spend the whole week walking like a crab because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand up straight. How wonderfully attractive!  I am sure my husband was thrilled that he was shortly going to be sharing a living space with a sweaty, irate, scuttling rash covered zombie where he would have to handle me using tongs, whilst wearing a surgical mask.  All my plans went to hell as from past experience, I was pretty sure I was going to have to become a hermit whilst I got over it, which meant a week of enduring a week of bloodshot eyes, hair on end, isolation, loneliness and pain.  On top of the isolation, pain, discomfort, lack of sleep  I was already facing with IBD.

 That’s the thing they don’t cover in the ‘this is what you have to deal with when you have Colitis’ guide for dummies. As well as dealing with the annoyance of symptoms like diarrhoea, constipation, and stomach pain, they fail to mention about the rubbishness of chronic fatigue, joints that feel you have mistaken your own for a rheumatic 80 year olds joints, and a brain that feels like you have set yours to maximum speed spin cycle where every day is like you are staring in your very own episode of sesame street.. Today will be brought to you by the letter.... S, T,9, 77, ball, House, crumbs????  and by the number...... 1,4,9,12, Twelfty 7..... house, ball crumbs, testicle.... etc.  It makes for very confusing and alarming sentence structure and more than a few raised eyebrows when trying to converse in public. It doesn’t tell you that because Colitis is at its heart an auto immune condition and so now, every day and night is fight night. ‘Let’s get ready to RUMBLE!!!!! Introducing you in the red corner, fighting well .... also..... you, in the blue corner’. Confusing right?

But the very worst thing about Colitis, specifically the strain I have which Is Microscopic - Lymphocytic Colitis, (worth 85 points and a triple word score in scrabble) is that not even the professionals have a clue about it. There is so little information about it, especially here in the UK, it’s often misdiagnosed as something else, and the only way  it is diagnosed is by biopsy under colonoscopy, which is something you have to beg plead, whine, grovel and cry for,  So even though it says very clearly in my medical history that I have MC,  the DR who diagnosed the shingles, probably would have had very little knowledge about it because as well as being classed as an invisible illness, it is also completely invisible in the pod of IBD diagnosis. If I said I had any other disease in the IBD family, you would have probably heard of it. Crohns, Ulcerative Colitis are known. Both are devastating. Both are classed as really challenging conditions and also in severe cases classed as a Disability. MC (Microscopic colitis) no one has a clue about. Microscopic makes it sound small and insignificant doesn’t it? Well after living with it for 8 months, It’s not small and its certainly not insignificant. In fact I can state with absolute confidence that it is completely devastating, confusing, maddening, upsetting and every other emotion you would associate with living with any other Long term Chronic disease. There are pages and pages and pages of information about IBD, but it makes me both sad and angry that there isn’t the same kind of profile, support, knowledge or help available for those of us that have MC, making living with it, understanding it and conquering it very sodding difficult.

At the beginning of my journey with MC, I wasn’t informed that I was sharing my body with an autoimmune disease. I had no idea that I would be spending all of my time trying to cajole a hyperactive immune system to stop spinning round in circles, calm down and take a nap. I had no clue, that there were going to be days where I would be in so much pain, I would learn creative new swear words that I would shout into a pillow, while I curl up in a ball, trying to get into any comfortable position that wasn’t hanging from the ceiling by my ankles and taking on the form of a bat. I didn’t know that I would be met with ‘questioning stares and raised eyebrows’ and helpful conversation starters like‘ You don’t look ill’ or ‘ oh well at least you know what’s going on now, just change your diet and everything will be fine’ and certainly not that there would be days I would feel so tired, it would feel like my brain was being submerged under water and I would start imagining people as giant, walking pillows, that I could happily snooze on whether they gave me permission or not.  I was ignorant to the fact I would have to give up cake, cheese and all the yummy things I used to love because, by eating them I was turning my bowel into an angry, spiky porcupine, stabbing anything it touched with care free abandonment. Because these are the things they don’t tell you. They just tell you about the joyful toilet troubles. But I promise you. It’s not just that we have to deal with, we deal with a whole cacophony of bloody wonderment, and I wish that every time we had to discuss our disease, the whole process didn’t feel like we have to become a desperate salesmen,  but  instead of trying to persuade someone to buy a car, we are trying to get help or intervention to give us the best chance to exist harmoniously with this disease.

 So, yet again I am enjoying an unwelcome tenant living in my body without paying rent. Yet again I am having to over explain my condition to a professional to try and get any form of treatment for a related autoimmune condition, and yet again I am having to shield myself from the world whilst this butt hole of an illness works its way out of my system. And then after all that fun, go back to dealing with the IBD until another squatter of an illness uses my body as its own personal cave, dwelling there until my body musters up the energy and enthusiasm to squeeze it out again. There’s no room for anything else and I truly worry if something else moves in whilst I am trying to recover from Shingles,  I might spontaneously combust. But hey, maybe if I use a dust buster to hoover myself up and present myself as a little pile of dust with eyeballs and shoes in front of the DR, maybe just maybe, she will read my notes, understand my condition, actually show some sympathy and take me seriously instead of hoofing me out of the door. Well We live in hope eh?

[whimsymuse]

Storytelling (chapter 8)

➺ “You’re so used to following the path set for you by others, that is until a certain someone comes along and teaches you to write your own story.”

 A story in which a famous idol falls for an average college student and they both try to follow their dreams, while struggling to stay together.

A/N This is actually my first fic for this fandom, so hopefully you all enjoy it!

Masterlist

pairing: Namjoon x Reader

genre: Fluff, humor and knowing me probably some angst

warnings: strong language

words: 3,042

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ... 

     Ever since the two of you exchanged numbers, you spoke to each other almost everyday. You spoke about everything and nothing and every time you were amazed by how intelligent he was. Each conversation you shared was meaningful, even if it was simply about the weather outside. Namjoon just had a way of making everything mean something profound and you really admired that about him. Sometimes, when both of you felt like taking a break from your stressful lives, he would ask to go on walks together. That was it, simple walks around town mostly around the Han River just to take a breather once and awhile and just to enjoy each other’s company. As simple as it sounds, these little walks were the highlight of your weeks. They kept you grounded in your whirlwind of school work and work stress and you also got to learn more about Namjoon every time.

     Namjoon, you learned, didn't keep regular hours. You would often fall asleep while texting him and then wake up to a good morning message from him sent during the early hours of the morning. Every time you saw the timestamp on those messages, you would scold him and tell him to sleep more, to which he would tell you “I sleep during the day, don't worry.” That response just made you worry more. You still didn’t know what his job was exactly, but you hoped he would get more sleep nevertheless. No matter how many times he told you that he napped, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that a couple naps during the day made up for a good night's rest.

You (7:43am):

     Joon, please. Tonight, sleep early.

Namjoon (7:45am):

     I can’t tonight, I still have a lot to do. But don't worry, after today I'll be done and then I'll sleep for an entire week. ;)

     He’d been saying that a lot lately; that he was too busy to sleep and it annoyed you. How could he possibly be too busy to get some sleep? In your university experience, you learned the hard way that your physical and mental health needed to take priority over all else, or else you would internally combust.

      You let out a heavy sigh as you threw your phone onto the couch.

      “What’s wrong now? Trouble in paradise.”

      You sent Alyson a glare before you sunk into the couch beside your phone. “He just. He’s not getting enough sleep.”

       “Why don't you just go to him and tell him to sleep if he’s not listening to your texts.”

       “I don’t know where he lives.” You grumbled and how Alyson managed to hear you from all the way in the kitchen, you had no idea.

      “Then, visit his work and force him to get some sleep.”

      “I don’t know where he works either. I don’t even know what his job is.” You said into the couch cushion.

      Alyson stormed into the living room, “You don't even know what his job is?! You’ve been non-stop texting this man for about a week and a half, you’ve gone on like a million walks together and that’s never come up?!”

      You groaned, then flipped over onto your back to look at her fully. “Of course it came up. But he still hasn't explicitly told me what he does and I didn't want to pry. It's none of my business anyways.”

       “What do you mean if none of your business?! You two are practically dating and you don't know this basic information about him? For all you know, the man could be apart of the mafia, or a murderer!”

      “You’re over exaggerating, Aly. And we’re not dating, we’re just friends.”

      You looked up to see Alyson crossing her arms in front of her and wearing an annoyed expression.

“What?” You asked.

“What’s his name?”

“Why?” You dragged out the question, suddenly growing a little reluctant to give up his name.

“Um… Because I’m your best friend and I should at least know the name of the guy you’ve been obsessing over.”

“I’ve not obsessing over him!” You protested, but Alyson just rolled her eyes.

“What’s his name, Y/n?”

You groaned but then looked up at her expectant expression and gave in knowing that she would not let up until you gave her what she wanted. “Namjoon.” You said, “Kim Namjoon.”

Alyson smiled and whipped out her phone, “Thank you.”

You watched her quickly type something out on her phone and your eyes widened, “Wait, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Googling him.” She replied casually.

“What?! No!” You quickly flipped over and off of the couch, then started to reach for her phone.

You chased her around the living room, but with her short stature she easily dodged your desperate hands.

She evaded you while you chased her through the kitchen and the dinning room and as you chased her towards the couch, she quickly climbed over it and out of your reach.

          “And, search!” Alyson called out triumphantly just above your crumpled figure on the couch.

“Holy shit.” She said.

          You lifted your head up from the couch, “What?”

          Alyson pushed some hair behind her ear and rapidly blinked her eyes before looking up from her screen at you, “Kim Namjoon, right?” You nodded, “What exactly did he tell you about his job?”

        You threw your hands into the air, “I already told you that I don't know much.”

        “Okay, but what do you know.” The urgency in her voice made you concerned, but you decided that answering her was the fastest way to find out what the heck was going on.

        “He told me that he’s in a band with six of his friends.” You shrugged, “That’s it really. He didn't seem to want to tell me more, so I didn't ask.”

        The expression that you were greeted with when you looked back up at Alyson made you freeze. Her eyes were so wide that the only way you could properly describe them was bug-eyed. Her jaw was dropped so low, you were concerned that it might actually fall off.

           “Aly” You slowly approached her, “You okay?”

            Alyson just shook her head and forced her phone into your hands before covering her face and collapsing onto the couch in hysteria.

         Your eyes quickly skimmed through the search results on the screen and with every passing link, your eyes widen more and more.

         Producer, songwriter, rapper and leader of an internationally famous group named BTS, or the Bulletproof Boy scouts, or Beyond the Scene? Stage name: RM, formerly known as Rapmonster.

         “WHAT?!”

     You quickly clicked on the Google images with shaking hands and were immediately greeted with pictures of Namjoon, your Namjoon - well, not yours but the one you knew. In the pictures he was wearing much more vibrantly coloured clothes that complimented his similarly vibrant hair, but his bright almond eyes and signature dimples left no doubts in your mind. That was the Kim Namjoon you knew.

       You whipped your head up to look at your friend for some acknowledgement that this was all some elaborate and messed up prank of hers, but all she did was take her phone from your hands and nod approvingly.

       “Cute and talented?” She said, “I approve.”

       You smacked her arm, “Shut up and help me!  What do I do?!”

               “What is there to do?” She asked with a shrug, “He’s still the dorky guy you fell for from the cafe, He’s just known by a little more people than you thought.”

        You scoffed, “A little.”

        “Okay, a lot.” Alyson admitted, “But does him being famous change the fact that you care about him?”

       “Of course not.” You answer without any hesitation, “It’s just that-”

        “No, that's it. You care about him and that's all that matters. He may be famous, but that doesn't change the fact that he’s a good guy or that he’s into you.”

         You rolled your eyes, “He’s not into me. We’re just friends.”

         Alyson cocked her eyebrow up and pointed at you, “You say that, but you literally just confessed to falling for him.”

         “What are you-” Your mind quickly raced through the conversation you just had.

       When did I? Oh…

       You pressed your face into your hands and groaned.

        Alyson laughed as she pat your shoulder, “Sorry, you can't control it sweetheart. It just happens.”

                You let out another groan before collapsing into the couch again, while Alyson’s laughter filled the room.

You (12:33pm)

          Hey, Joon. Can we meet up later tonight? I need to talk to you.

          After thinking about it for a long time, you decided to tell Namjoon what you knew. The problem wasn't that he was famous, heck Alyson was right when she said that he was still the same man you fell for. He was still the most wildly intelligent, the most charmingly contemplative and the most endearingly klutzy man you’ve ever met and you were not about to let him go over the fact that you suddenly found out that he was famous.

            No, Namjoon was far more than his fame and you had to let him know that you knew that.

             However, even though you knew about his band and his music, you couldn't bring yourself to watch any of their videos or to listen to any of their songs. It felt like you were betraying Namjoon’s trust; like you were intruding on a part of Namjoon’s life that he didn't want you to know about - He did refuse to tell you that he was famous afterall. You just didn't want to take more than he was willing to share, even if that meant not sneaking a peak at the music he produced, no matter how badly you wanted to listen to it.

     You wanted to be welcomed into his life at his own pace and by his own terms - if he wanted to let you in at all.

Namjoon (12:45pm)

       Yeah sure! I have a little time to spare and I’ve been meaning to ask you to dinner, so that sounds great. ^^

Namjoon (12:45pm)

        I’ll pick you up around 6?

You (12:46pm)

        Sure. See you then.

         The clock above your desk seemed to mock you. No matter how much you willed time to pass faster, the arms of the clock just seemed to slow down.

          By 4:30pm, you were already ready and were nervously pacing back and forth in your bedroom. Even if you weren't about to talk to him about his secret fame, you would be nervous. Alyson told you that it was normal to be nervous for a date, but even though neither of you explicitly called it that, you still felt like you would explode from your nervousness.

        You also didn't specify where you would be going on this outing, so you settled for a semi-casual look, leaning more towards casual. You looked down at your sweater and jeans. This is enough right? You wondered to yourself, turning around in the mirror. You’d paired the outfit with a gold statement necklace, but that was about as fancy as the outfit got. The snow outside had settled calmly on the ground, but the winter chill would only let you be so fancy before it pulled you down into its icy grasp.

                   As time lethargically ticked by, you tried to distract yourself with your creative writing assignment. Your assignment was to write a poem about being on the verge of something.

          ‘Anything’, your teacher had said with a vivacity that was far too much for an 8am class. ‘It could be about the feelings laced with the failure or with the success in achieving a goal. It could simply be about literally jumping from a high point, like skydiving! Just describe to me what you would feel.’

          You groaned and pressed your face into your notebook. It sure felt as if you were on the verge of something right now. Whether that was being on the verge of improving your relationship with Namjoon or ruining it, you weren’t sure - you hoped the former - but either way, the feelings were the same. The anxiety and the excitement that could only be felt just before an important date, spilled onto the page in front of you. You expressed your fears, your impatience and your anticipation in a chaotic free-verse.

           Just as you finished off the poem, there was a knock at your door that pulled you from your trance. For a second, you were confused as to why someone would be knocking at your door, but once you glanced up at the time and noticed that it as 6:00pm on the dot, you remembered your da- outing.

           Another knock at your door had you stumbling out of your seat. Somehow you managed to catch your foot on the leg of your chair and the next thing you knew, you were tumbling forward onto the floor.

           A few more knocks, these ones more rapid and loud then the last. “Y/n? Is that you? Are you okay?” Namjoon’s voice called out through the wooden door.

           You quickly jumped to your feet, “Fine!” You called back just before you swung open the door. “Hey.” You said breathlessly.

Namjoon looked at you with a concerned expression written all over his face, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” You said a little too quickly to be convincing. “I just stumbled a little bit, but I’m okay.” You said as you smoothed your hair down.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as Namjoon’s eyes scanned over you, as if to check if you injured anything. You prayed that he didn't notice how nervous you were because you could feel your heart rapidly beating and you also distinctly felt the heat building up in your cheeks the longer his eyes looked at you. The moment soon passed, much to your relief, as he greeted you with a shy smile. Awhile ago you thought you’d get used to seeing his smiles and hoped that maybe your heart would stop skipping a beat whenever you saw them, but boy were you wrong. If anything they only made you more flustered, but at least when he smiled his eyes crinkled enough that he doesn’t notice your bush.

        For Namjoon’s part, he was dressed handsomely, devastatingly so; in black jeans and a navy blue T-shirt that was hidden under the layers of his blazer, a scarf and a coat. From one glance you would say that he was a man that was not only confident in his fashion, but in himself too just from the way he carried himself. And although that might be the case, from the way he shifted back and forth on his feet, you could tell he was nervous as well.

       “I uh…” He scratched the back of his head as an evident blush started to blossom on his cheeks. “This is for you.”

       Your eyes widened when you noticed a bouquet of flowers being thrust towards you.

       Anemones. Your brain immediately said when you saw the large black centre surrounded by large and velvety looking petals. Anticipation, you thought, how fitting. The flowers were a beautiful shade of pink, similar to the shade on Namjoon’s cheeks and that just made you stare at them more fondly.

        “Wow, I’ve never got flowers before.” You said wistfully as your fingers delicately traced along the petals.

        “I honestly don’t know how to feel about that.” Namjoon responded and you tilted your head to the side in confusion.

         “What do you mean?”

         He shrugged, “I mean that I’m sad that you’ve never received flowers before because that's just absurd. But I’m also selfishly happy that I’m the first and only one giving you flowers.”

           His eyes sparkled as if they held all of the stars in the sky and since they were directed towards you, you felt like you were those stars and you just crumbled.

          “God damnit, Kim Namjoon!”

          “What?! Did I say something wrong?!” He started to profusely apologize, but you gently placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

          “No you did nothing wrong.” You said as you took the flowers and quickly turned, beckoning him to follow you into your apartment.

          “You just gave me a bouquet of flowers and piled on a couple of cheesy pickup lines.” You grumbled as you began your hunt for a vase for the flowers.

          Namjoon chuckled when he picked up on your words, “Was that too much?”

          “Yes! Okay no, but how can I compete with flowers and cheesy pickup lines?!” You called out from the kitchen as you placed the flowers in a small vase. They really were beautiful and you couldn't help but fall even harder for this man. It just wasn't fair how easily he managed to do that to you.

          “What are the flowers for?” You asked him as he made his way towards you,

“To thank you.” He said.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, pulling a chuckle from Namjoon. “I finished the project I was working on a lot sooner than expected and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Me?”

Namjoon nodded, “I was uh…” He scratched the back of his head and looked away, “I was working on an album for our band and you helped me finish it.”

“How did I do that?” You asked and Namjoon looked up at you fondly.

“You inspired me.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and then he turned and held out his arm. “Ready to go?”

“H-huh?” You asked, still a little thrown off by his confession, it wasn’t every day someone told you that they were inspired by you. In fact this was your first time every hearing that and you were completely caught off guard, but you quickly recovered with a shake of your head, “Y-yeah.” You said, “Let’s go.”

You hesitantly looped your arm around his and made your way towards your door. On your way, Namjoon reminded you to grab your jacket because ‘It’s pretty cold outside, Y/n. Didn’t you check the forecast?’ You swatted his arm when he said that, but still slipped on your jacket just before heading out.

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ...

A/N Hey guys! So here’s the chapter I promised to post before I leave for my trip. I’ll be flying out tomorrow and I’m not sure when I’ll have internet next, so I apologize again for my lack of activity in the near future. I’ll be back in a couple weeks, so hang tight!! I know this is kind of a cliff hanger, but... enjoy I guess ;) Thank you for all of your support so far! I love writing this story, so I hope you all love reading it ^.^

 please do NOT edit, copy or repost

[jetzelda]

Death Activated Quirk: Nara Shikamaru Edition

Izuku activated his quirk once again during the battle simulation. It was an accident. Nara Shikamaru doesn’t really care.

Izuku passed U.A.’s entrance by sheer dumb luck. Kaachan had more issues with Izuku than Izuku did with life in general. Also, All Might wasn’t a great teacher if it came to more than one student.

These were seemingly random thoughts that flew through Izuku’s head as he fled the raging, spitting ball of explosions and screams that was Kaachan.

Their first class with All Might was a battle simulation. It was Heroes versus Villains. The class was decked out in their full hero outfits designed by each student and created by the support department. It was supposed to be exciting but typical.

Luckily for Izuku he was paired with that wonderful Uraraka Ochako that was nice to him in class and at the entrance exam.

Unluckily for Izuku they were against the glasses wearing, slightly too formal and stiff, Iida Tenya and Kaachan.

I’m starting to think I’m getting your Sawada bad luck.

No one replied to him. He hadn’t expected it. He developed a new habit of talking at no one, or himself he supposed, in his head.

Tsuna had only checked in twice in the past two weeks. Once before the entrance exam. Again when Izuku passed. Apparently, bad things were going down in Tsuna’s own dimension. The mafia boss didn’t have time to visit Izuku’s head like he did before.

Izuku told himself he didn’t mind. Reassured himself that he was growing stronger, more independent. He could manage without Tsuna.

And yet, hiding from Kaachan in this small hall with the Vongola Intuition screaming in his head made him feel very, stupidly wrong.

Not that he was giving up. He had come too far for that. He was rapidly constructing and dismissing plans in his head. With Kaachan focused on him, Uraraka could find the weapon. They had a chance.

Izuku held on to that thought when Uraraka contacted him. Clung to it when Kaachan found him. Swore upon it when he declared he wasn’t afraid.

The thought slipped away like water through sand when Kaachan aimed his gauntlet and explained its function, at Izuku. All Might’s voice was white static in his ear. He heard Kaachan’s voice clearly.

“IF IT DOESN’T HIT HIM HE WON’T DIE!!!”

 Nara Shikamaru had been unpleasantly woken from naps before. It was given with his line of business, having Ino for a teammate, his choice in friends, and the girl he fell force.

But going from falling  asleep under a nice, secluded, and perfectly shaded tree to waking up in a pile of dust and rubble in the middle of odd stone buildings, one of which with a gaping hole, was new and unpleasant on an entirely different level. And added to that, his whole body burn burned like he decided laying out in the deserts of Wind Country was a grand place to sleep.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU DEKU!”

Some kind of intercom came on and scolded the pubescent voice and issued an ultimatum, garnering more cursing.

Is this hell? Shikamaru mentally questioned himself. Did he burn to death somehow? Because that was what it felt like. Although, the burning feeling was fading.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Shikamaru winced. Screaming in his head was new.

I’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRY

Okay, now he was at least 80% certain that wasn’t him he was hearing.

Izuku? Are you alright? What’s going on? I felt your panic.

Two voices in his head now. He was pretty sure he was dead. Or crazy. Or possibly even both.

Oh. I see now. Shit.

I’M SORRY!!! YOU’RE NOT DEAD! I SWEAR!!

There was some movement at the gaping hole in the building. That would be a lot more comforting if I knew who you were or what the hell is going on.

Well, the shortest version I can manage is that I am Sawada Tsunayoshi, and you are currently in Midoriya Izuku’s body. In this world of people with a special ability, or quirk as they call it, he has an ability that snatches another ‘soul’, if you will, to inhabit his body every time he dies. Welcome.

Shikamaru could have banged his head against something. The different world and inhabiting another body tidbits were new brands of headaches. But he was more focused on : YOU JUST DIED? He shoved off the rubble. He needed to get this body to safety. He faltered when rapid images and thoughts filled his brain. He was quick to recognize them as not his own.

Wait! Please, not yet! At least the kid wasn’t screaming anymore. I’m sorry you got dragged into this! No one was supposed to die! It was just a battle simulation!

Shikamaru saw the blond boy in his mind’s eye, aiming his weapon and firing with a crazed look. You have to be fucking kidding me. He was fast to filter the pertinent information he needed out of these thoughts, ducking in cover behind the rubble so that brat wouldn’t spot him. His fists, or Midoriya’s fists really, clenched tight in response to his growing agitation, the burns on them rapidly healing. That wasn’t a fucking accident.

Agreed. Sawada chimed in, voice icy cold. Bakugou crossed a line, Midoriya. You need to end this simulation and speak with All Might.

His mind revealed the giant man of muscle shrinking to a skeleton with hair and skin in his brain. A teacher for Midoriya.

But I can’t let Uraraka down! The kid protested. She’s depending on me! And-And even if I’m knocked down- A hero never gives up!

Oh fuck, not one of these types.

Annnd, he felt Midoriya’s flash of hurt and guilt. He wanted to groan. He did groan with Midoriya’s mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that, kid. I meant your life is more fucking important than some school exercise.” Seriously, the academy didn’t do shit like this. But then again, the academy didn’t have kids that spontaneously combusted. Usually.

Midoriya didn’t reply.

He could practically feel Sawada sigh. Very well, if it is so important, Nara-san, is it? Shikamaru didn’t even need to think his confirmation. Would you be averse to completing this simulation for Izuku? Then we can talk to All Might. Is that acceptable for everyone?

Well, how could Shikamaru say no with the kid feeling like that?

Thank you. The kid’s voice was small. I’m sorry you were pulled into this.

You don’t need to apologize for something that wasn’t your fault, kid. Shikamaru dismissed. He peered over the rubble and spotted the blond teenager searching for a sign of them from that hole in the building. Him, on the other hand-

Shikamaru would deny being petty or vindictive to a teenager until his dying day.

All Might knew there was something very wrong. Young Bakugou blowing a hole in the building just to attack Young Midoriya was a huge tip off (that boy was a whole bag of issues he had no idea how to address). But when minutes passed without a visual of Young Midoriya, All Might began to fear the worse.

Young Midoriya did finally appear, to the visible and audible relief of his young classmates watching. But All Might felt no relief. In fact, he was more worried than before.

Young Midoriya did not act like himself, or like Sawada-san. Young Midoriya, for all his hopes and gains these past ten months, had not yet accomplished a confident stride a hero needed. He still walked with a slight hunch and a tension like he would jump out of his skin the moment you touched him. Sawada-san carried himself more like a hero should, a calm confidence like he was untouchable, and yet just enough tension so that he could spring into action at a moment’s notice.

When Young Midoriya appeared, he carried himself in neither of those two ways. Instead, he was slightly slouched, one thumb hooked into his utility belt, his other hand resting at his side. His hero outfit was in tatters, and he was covered in dirt, but miraculously no burns. He looked incredibly put-out as he faced the angry Young Bakugou.

Words were exchanged between the two boys that the audience couldn’t discern. Young Midoriya’s face twisted in smug satisfaction-and perhaps vindication?-as Young Bakugou’s was struck with shock, which quickly transformed into a blind fury as he threw himself screaming at Young Midoriya.

All Might didn’t even have a chance to warn him to not use his gauntlet once more.

It was over in mere moments.

Young Midoriya leaned his body just enough out of the way of the incoming attack. He twisted slightly to come up behind Young Bakugou, jabbed his index fingers into several places of his attacker. Every movement was precise, and only just what was needed. No energy was overexerted. It was…a precise, yet lazy sort of grace. And then it was over. Young Bakugou dropped like a stone.

He didn’t appear to be unconscious. His head twitched and jerked and his mouth moved as he screamed inaudibly to the viewers. Young Midoriya just appeared to scratch the back of his head and sigh. He wrapped Young Bakugou’s in the capture tape, and then left him.

The simulation ended shortly after that. When Young Midoriya joined Young Uraraka the Hero team captured the last villain and won.

When All Might went to collect the four students, he approached Young Midoriya first. He couldn’t hold onto his objectivity towards his students right now when so many pieces of evidence were pointing towards something terrible.

Young Midoriya seemed to be expecting him, once again in the slightly slouched postured and appearing put-out, and perhaps even bored. He cleared his throat. “Young Midoriya…?”

The teenager looked met his eyes with an older gaze than he should have. “Wrong.”

That cinched it

“I’m terribly sorry, class, but it is of the utmost importance that today’s simulation be ended. I must take Young Midoriya to Recovery Girl and Principal Nedzu right away.”

There were various exclamations of shock, protest, disappointment, and worry that All Might utterly ignored. The teacher and student’s worse case scenario had happened, and he intended to follow through with contingency plan they created before even the entrance exam.

“Wait.” Young Midoriya interrupted before they left, startling several.

The green haired teenager set his eyes on another student and singled him out with a point of his finger. “He’s coming too.” He announced to Young Bakugou’s shocked face.

 Midoriya Izuku was a sweet small ball of sunshine that needed to be protected at all costs.

That was the conclusion Shikamaru came to as Izuku mentally informed him on literally every hero they passed. The teenager was a tactical and reconnaissance genius that was unrecognized and underappreciated, and yet wanted to put himself out in the big bad world of ridiculous abilities to save people.

He felt Izuku’s delight and embarrassment.

Right, he wasn’t quite used to sharing a mindscape with people, meaning they felt everything he did and received every thought, whether it was an active or passive one.

I still haven’t gotten used to it. Tsuna offered. It’s easier to just go with it and move on.

A throat being cleared pulled Shikamaru from their combined thoughts. He refocused on the present.

They sat on a bed in the infirmary. Recovery Girl, who was a small old lady, was looking him over. A tall dark haired man, their homeroom teacher Eraserhead, leaned against a wall by the exit. All Might stood next to a summon animal in a suit, that was apparently the principal for this school full of teenagers. Bakugous sat angrily, but thankfully silently, sulking on another bed, refusing to look at anyone.

Shikamaru wasn’t sure who cleared their throat. “Yes?” He asked blankly.

Nezu was smiling politely and pleasantly. Shikamaru wasn’t fooled. “I was just saying how All Might gathered us all here about how the school records were inaccurate about your quirk, is this correct?”

Shikamaru crossed their arms. “Yes.” He confirmed. “U.A.’s records have Midoriya Izuku listed as possessing a strength augmentation quirk.” He recited from Izuku’s memory. “While it is true he does possess this quirk, it is merely secondary to a quirk he was unaware he possessed until he activated it approximately eleven month ago.”

All eyes in the room were on him now, even Bakugou’s, and only Bakugou looked shocked. All the teachers had a more concerned and curious look (except All Might, of course).

“You speak as if you are not Midoriya Izuku.” The animal principal pointed out.

“That’s because I’m not.” The genius responded boredly. “I am Nara Shikamaru. I am sharing Midoriya’s body as a result of his quirk.” Shock filtered through his mind when the kid realized what he was about to say. “Midoriya has a quirk that activates upon his death. Evidently, every time he dies, a random soul is sucked into his body. He’d rather I not tell you. He wanted it to be labeled a ‘Near-Death Activated Quirk’ But-“ He met Bakugou Katsukis horrified red eyes. “Some people need to learn there are consequences.”

Pain ripped through him like someone ripping him off something like he was tape. “That’s not fair!!” Shikamare wasn’t speaking. “It’s my quirk!! It’s my decision to tell!”

Midoriya panted with exertion, head hanging low as he hunched in on himself. Shikamaru and Sawada were surprised. Midoriya ripped back control, for the second time even though they hadn’t figured out willful switching.

Shikamaru felt no remorse though. Problems don’t get solved if no one knows they exist. Though, it might be more accurate to say no one was acknowledging this problem.

A small, fuzzy paw laid over Midoriya’s clenched, shaking fist. “Midoriya.” His voice was soft, nothing like that false pleasantry from before. “Did you die today during the battle simulation?” His voice held no judgement, only calm and compassionate understanding.

Midoriya choked on a sob and shoved his fist against his mouth.

The teachers seemed to take that as his confirmation. The animal sighed. Eraserhead muttered dark curses. Recovery girl threw a heavy blanket over Midoriya’s shoulders.

Shikamaru couldn’t see Bakugou. Midoriya refused to look at him.

“I take it you were aware of this, All Might? He is your successor.”

There was a cough, a wet sound, and then the skeleton with skin’s voice. “Yes. I discovered it the day I met Young Midoriya. It was the day he first activated his quirk.”

“I see. Has he activated any other time?” The animal asked.

“Not that I am aware of. And I trust Young Midoriya implicitly. I do not believe he activated it another time and did not tell me.”

“Hmmm. And what were the circumstances surrounding the first activation of his quirk?”

Midoriya sobbed again. Fat tears ran down his cheeks. Shikamaru still felt no remorse. But he did express sorrow at outing Midoriya’s quirk without warning and bringing back this darkness he had been moving away from.

“…Perhaps we should carry on this conversation another time.” All Might suggested.

They stopped with the questions for now. The teachers left to give Midoriya privacy, and to call Midoriya and Bakugou’s parents. When Midoriya finally calmed down, Recovery Girl gave him a whole cupful of gummy candies. She pulled the curtain around his bed and left Midoriya to rest.

They heard the door open and close, leaving him alone in his small curtain.

Midoriya laid on his side and stared tiredly at the white cloth blocking the rest of the room.

I’m not sorry. Shikamaru insisted.

….Yeah. I get it. Midoriya bodily heaved a heavy sigh. It…I guess it had to happen eventually. I just wasn’t planning on ripping it off like a band-aid.

Prolonging it wouldn’t have done any good. Sawada chimed in. And really, technically this is an important medical condition they need to be aware of, lest they assume you are under, say, the influence of a villain’s quirk.

I guess… A shadow fell across the curtain. It was tugged aside with surprising gentleness, just enough to permit Bakugou Katsuki entrance.

Joy. Shikamaru thought blandly.

Midoriya blinked slowly. “K-Kaaachan..?”

Bakugou wouldn’t look at them. His fists were clenched tight and he was shaking. Was he gonna explode again?

“Deku…” His voice was unsure, and still somehow angry. “You…Why didn’t you fucking tell me…?”

Green eyes blinked again. “….Tell you what?”

“That you had a fucking qurik!” Bakugou snapped. “That-That-Fuck! That you fucking died-! That you could only use your quirk when you fucking died! Fuck-! When the fuck did you even die?!” Bakugou raged and yelled, refusing to lift his head to meet Midoriya’s eyes.

Where once Midoriya was terrified of Bakugou’s yelling, now he couldn’t even muster up the energy. “What do you want me to say, Kaachan?” His voice had no inflection. “You barely gave me the time of day unless I was in your way. And Nara-san was right. I didn’t want anyone to know.” Shikamaru denied the guilt he felt when Midoriya clenched his fists tightly. “I didn’t want you or anyone in class to know. I didn’t want anyone to carry that weight if an accident happened, like today. Accidents are accidents. It’s just me anyways. It’s no big deal-“”BULLFUCKINGSHIT!” Bakugou roared, startling Midoriya out of the downward verbal spiral he didn’t realize he was in.

Bakugou’s head wrenched up. Shikamaru mirrored the shock Midoriya felt at the sight of tears in those red eyes. “I FUCKING KILLED YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING DEKU!! DON’T YOU FUCKING TELL ME IT’S NO BIG DEAL!!!” Bakugous fists shook with retrained rage. “Fuck!” The blond turned and lashed out at the wall, kicking it as hard of he could. “FUCK! OW!” He hopped a bit, holding his foot.

Midoriya pushed himself into a seated position. “Kaachan…” He said softly. Stilling the blond’s movements. “I…I didn’t really think you cared..”

Bakugou didn’t respond a moment. Then he turned and plopped himself on the bed beside Midoriya without so much as a may-I-please. He looked grumpy, upset, and unsure. “I…Fuck..I didn’t think I did either.” He grumbled. He was slumped. He looked as tired as Shikamaru, Midoriya, and Sawada felt. “But…”

Midoriya inhaled sharply when a warm hand closed over his own. “Even…Fuck, no matter how shitty and deku you  are….And even though you’re stupid and I don’t like you,” He seemed determined to add every insult he could. Shikamaru wanted to hit him. “I…I didn’t want you dead. I don’t want you dead…” I didn’t want to skill you went unsaid.

Ugh. Teenage emotions and hormones and stubbornness. Shikamaru thought he was free of this.

But he couldn’t deny that the warmth blossoming inside Midoriya didn’t make him happy.

Midoriya leaned against Bakugou, making him stiffen. “It’s okay.” He winced at the emotions Sawada and Shikamaru rapidly sent at him. “Er…well, no, it’s not okay.” He admitted. Bakugou looked at him, hurt and surprised. “It…You…You hurt me a lot, Kaachan.” He look a deep breath. Shikamaru and Sawada continuously offered strength and support. “I’m…I’m not really…I’m not well.” He admitted. Bakugou’s hand pulled away. Midoriya snatched it back. “But…But I’m seeing a therapist. I’m-I’m getting better. I’m healing.” He empathized. “So…It’s not okay now. But..But It’s getting better. I’m getting better.” He offered Bakugou a smile. “And…And even though I didn’t want it to be this way, hearing you say that really helps me. So thank you.”

Bakugou looked so young and painfully unsure in that one moment. Shikamaru still did NOT regret what he did. But, maybe Bakugou wasn’t completely an annoyingly stubborn raging teenage asshole.

“Nara-san says he’s sorry he was a jerk to you.” Midoriya offered with a pleasant smile.

Sawada snorted (how did someone mentally snort?!). That little- I did not!

Bakugou actually cracked a small smile that wasn’t crazy or smug. It looked out of place on his face. “Is he still in your head? Is he there permanently?”

Midoriya suddenly filled with excitement. Sawada felt fond exasperation. Shikamaru felt dread creep up. “Yes and no. Tsuna comes and goes, he was the first one, you haven’t met him, I don’t know if you ever will. I’m sure Nara-san will be able to too. He isn’t dead or anything. He has his own body and everything. It’s like- he went to sleep and suddenly he’s in my head. And these people, Tsuna at least, isns’t even from this dimension we don’t think!” Midoriya launched into a long-winded tangent filled explanation of all he had learned about his quirk.

Bakugou laughed, a wet and fond sound. “Breathe, nerd.”

Shikamaru had just wanted a nap, dammit.

Sooo her’e the next chapter. I have at least one more solid one coming. Vague ideas after that, but nothing solid.

[looselucy]

January

“The Tuesday lecture didn’t feel right without you.” Ed spoke quietly. Wednesday, 2pm. We had been to our lecture, and we were now sat in a coffee shop in the centre of town. I hadn’t cried for around 24 hours, which was good. I was doing pretty well, but I definitely wasn’t the life or soul of any party.

I had told Ed what happened when I first got to the lecture. Unlike a lot of cases, I wasn’t hiding what had happened with my parents, from anyone. It was so obvious that I was upset, it just made sense for me to tell people why. I didn’t have anything to hide. It felt better to just say it. The whole thing was horrible, I didn’t also want to make it a weight on my shoulders. “Good.” I chuckled, blowing my coffee. “I knew you would be lost without me.” “I was.” He grinned and laughed. “I’ve got another gig coming up. You gunna come?” “Of course.” I could see he had been trying to make the conversation as light-hearted as he could, but the dark cloud of what I had told him was looming, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Are you okay?” He asked. “I just feel a bit weird.” I said honestly. “A bit... empty, if that makes sense.” “Yeah, it does.” He took a sip. “My mum text me last night, after the phone-call, telling me about how sorry she is and how they’re going to get a divorce. Apparently, my dad has been seeing this other woman for like, two years. She lives like three streets away or something, my mum knows her. It’s just so weird. I thought they had like… the best relationship ever. I just feel so bad for her. My dad hasn’t even text me or anything either. I’m just... I’m really confused.” It felt good talking about it so honestly. The day before when I was with Zayn, I just kept choking up. I had eased a bit, and I was finally saying everything that had been running through my head. I was grateful that the day before when everything went down, Zayn didn’t have a lecture, even though I knew if he did have a lecture he wouldn’t have gone. He stayed by my side all day and made countless cups of tea. I loved him dearly for it. I knew Ed was struggling with what to say back to me, but bless him, he was trying. “Families are fucked up.” He concluded. I thought about Harry, straight away. I thought about all his comments about families being that way, and how mad I had got whenever he said it. Now I agreed. It was such a sharp turn. “They are.” I sighed. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” He said after another sip. “I find it weird, y’know? I feel like, with divorces and stuff, if it doesn’t happen when you’re really young like, it’s not going to happen. Know what I mean? I forget it actually happens to people our age. It’s surreal.” I downed the remainder of my coffee, which had still been piping hot, and it was incredibly strong, but it felt like I had been running on coffee over the day, when it was never usually my drink of choice. “I never asked you.” I gulped. “What’s your family like?” “As fucked up as the rest.” He sniffed. “Go on.” “I live with my dad. I don’t even remember the last time I saw my mum. She ran off with some guy when I was umm... seven, I think. Rarely see her. She’ll send me texts every few months like, telling me about her life. Like that makes up for anything. She’s a complete bitch. I don’t even want to see her.” “Do you think this stuff mentally fucks people up for the rest of their lives?” I asked worriedly. “Course it does.” He confirmed my thoughts. “But it happens to ninety nine percent of the world, so you’ll just be like everyone else. Don’t worry.” I laughed a little and nodded along, because in a way, he was right. This was just going to make me more normal, in a weird way. This being sad, being confused, it would pass, and I could be just like everyone else. The thought of that made me need another coffee. “I’m never gunna put my kids through that.” I told him confidently. “When I get married and have kids, that’s it. I know it. I’m gunna be happy and they’re gunna be happy. That’s all I need. I can do that. I can.” “If anyone can, it’s you.” That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me. My bottom lip quivered, a mixture of being flattered and sad, and I was so overwhelmed by everything I almost burst into tears right there and then. The only thing that stopped me from breaking down, once again, was the look of terror on Ed’s face. H was definitely one of those people who couldn’t deal with people crying. I figured that was one of the reasons I met him that day. I was trying to make that fact subconsciously hold me together. It was working. I noticed him panicking and I rapidly washed air over my face using my hand to fan myself, gulping hard and pulling myself together. “Fuck this.” My voice was shaking. “God, I need to pull myself together.” “You should be sad, Pip. It would be weird if you weren’t.” “No, I know. But I can’t just keep crying. Because in a month I’ll be like, urgh, remember that stage when I couldn’t stop crying? So rather than that, I need to just be strong. I can be strong through this. I’m nearly nineteen for crying out loud. I don’t want to cry all the time.” Ed just stared at me for a while like he was trying to figure me out. I just wanted to be strong. I wanted to change. I had always been so dramatic and overemotional, and it had taken my mum telling me my dad was a cheating bastard to realise I needed to change. I wanted to change. I didn’t want to crumble and cry myself to sleep over it every night, which was what I felt like doing, but I couldn’t be that way. I wanted this to be that substantial life event that made me change and be a bigger, better person, not a weaker one. I couldn’t even believe that was the way I was thinking about things. “You’re already being stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for.” Ed told me after finishing his drink. “Just don’t feel bad about crying. It’s a good thing.” “I guess.” “You’ll be good. You’ll be fine.” “I hope my mums okay.” I mumbled more to myself. “She’ll be fine too.” He promised. “I need to speak to Liam.” “Isn’t there any way you can get in touch with him?” “Well he’s had this rubbish little phone that he’s used for texting, but I tried to ring it the other day and it wouldn’t connect. He’s probably lost it. He always used to ring me from phones in hotels and hostels and stuff. He’s not easy to track down.” Like a flash of lightning, something clicked in my head. “Oh god. I think he already knows!” Ed looked as confused as I felt, but all I could think about was my phone-call with Liam the day before my mum rang, and of course he bloody knew. “What?” “I spoke with him, he said about mum being sad. Shit. I think that’s why he’s coming home!” She must have told him, and I could have put money of the fact he didn’t have the heart to tell me, or my mum had asked him to keep it quiet until she told me herself. That was the real reason he was coming home. It had to be. That made me even sadder. Liam had such a golden heart, because it was more than likely that he wanted to continue crossing the world, but he had to come home, for her. He would probably share a bloody house with her, the two of them would probably start paying rent together. That’s just what he was like. “So, your brothers coming home?” Ed asked. “Yeah, I just didn’t bloody realise that was why!” “This is intense!” He breathed. It was. Heart wrenching, really. Not much was ever going to bring Liam home, and he was speaking about coming home for good. Because Liam always had the same idea as I did when it came to our parents, I think even my mother did. They were painfully in love, as far as the three of us had been aware. I knew that was another reason I didn’t want to feel too sorry for myself. Whatever I was going through, my mum was going through the same thing, times a million. “Bless him.” I mumbled to the floor. I couldn’t look up to face him again as I tried to hold myself together, my whole body shaking like I was outside in the cold. Ed took that in right away. “Do you want another coffee?” He asked coyly. I smiled downwards, one tear dropping, but that was all I gave, before I looked back up, wiping my sleeve across my cheek. “Yes please.” I sighed. + + + I slumped into our flat feeling absolutely exhausted, seriously considering a nap since I knew we would be going out again. I hadn’t drank since the information was dropped on me, and I was extremely worried about what drunk Pippa’s reaction was going to be. But I was bound to find out, and it was better to do it sooner rather than later. But before I could even slump off into my room, Zayn opened his bedroom door wide, just in sweatpants, his eyes tired. He had definitely just woken up from a nap. I was jealous. “Hey.” I smiled, opening my door. “Are you okay?” He asked, completely alarmed right away. “Yeah, I’m fine, honestly. Just want a nap.” “C’mon then.” He nodded his head into his room. “Huh?” “Come nap with me. I’m exhausted.” “You look like you’ve just woke up.” I smiled. “I have, and I’m about to fall back asleep again, so come on.” Zayn was a cuddler, I was a cuddler, and it wouldn’t be the first time we had napped together. So in I strolled. I was very aware of the fact Zayn’s nap had been uneasy thanks to the fact he was just waiting for me to get back and see that I was okay. It continued to surprise me how close we were, how in those few months, he was suddenly the best friend I’d ever had. It had gotten even better since Grace left, although that still broke my heart. In a way, it had pushed us further together, and I was weirdly thankful for it. He got on his bed first, keeping the thick sheet up until I tucked in with him. He innocently spooned me, and my eyes fell shut as soon as my head hit the pillow, seconds away from falling asleep instantly. “Hey, Pip, guess what?” Zayn whispered soothingly. “Mm?” “I spoke with Louis today.” “Oh, really? I was hoping he might have spontaneously-combust by now.” Zayn let out a low chuckle as he tucked in closer to me, nuzzling into his bed and into my hair. I kind of wanted to pretend to be asleep if he was talking about Louis, but if anything, I woke up a little. “Y’know how he wouldn’t sleep with you before Christmas?” “Yeah?” “It was because of his girlfriend. He was saying he was going to break up with her over the break, but he pussied out.” “Huh. No way. I suppose that’s slightly redeeming. He’s still a complete prick and I hate him.” “I know! Just, explains why he wouldn’t sleep with you then. Weird, right?” “Very.” We snuggled into the silence again, my head heavy and completely comfortable. I had never been so glad to be sharing a single bed before. Nothing else was said before we fell asleep, and I realised one of the reasons I was coping so well, was because I was there, at uni, with my friends. I didn’t have to be in the middle of the breakup, I didn’t have to be at home with them. At that point, I never wanted to go home again. + + + Myself, Zayn, Mike and Tally sat drinking in the kitchen. It was actually kind of weird. I hadn’t wanted to mention it, since it was me, but there was definitely a noticeable lack of presence without Harry there. Even though when he first arrived, he didn’t seem to want to make any effort with us, he had quickly become a part of the foundations of our group. It felt a bit odd him not being there. I just knew Tally would ask why at some point, which saved the embarrassment of me asking. I had been waiting for that moment. It finally arrived. “So,” She choked. “Why-Where’s Harry?” “In his room.” Mike said bluntly. “No, but... why isn’t he coming out?” “Doesn’t want to miss another lecture.” Zayn said between sips. “He’s in at nine.” “That’s very... responsible of him.” “You’re fucking obsessed!” Mike scoffed. Tally attempted to throw an empty packet of crisps in his face, but it only got so far, falling gently to the floor as Mike watched the packet drop with dead eyes, before looking back up to her and shaking his head, disappointed in her attempts. “Leave me alone!” She groaned. “You are a little bit though.” “So what? You’re obsessed with every single girl you’ve ever met.” “At least I admit it.” He grinned. “Oh shut up, you two!” Zayn grunted. “Let’s just ring a taxi and go. You’re exhausting me.” “I’m only messing.” Mike cooed. Tally stuck her finger up at him and then pulled her phone out of her bag, ringing the taxi company we always used. I had been relatively quiet throughout pre-drinks, to be honest. I had concentrated more on the music that played dully in the background of the many conversations that had flown about all evening. I had just sat and drank, occasionally chipping in and saying something, but not even close to how rowdy I usually was during that time. Thankfully, they all knew not to bring that up, not to mention that to me, because I would feel even worse. It was better to just let me wallow for a little while. I guess I wasn’t even necessarily sad, just a little lost. Things continued that way. I would lowly laugh at their jokes and try my best to join in before the taxi rang informing us they were outside, and we all stood ourselves up and began making our way out of the flat. Zayn lingered at the back, making sure to grab hold of my arm and hold me back as Mike and Tally began trotting down the stairs. “You sure you’re okay?” He whispered outside Harry’s door. “Yeah I’m fine.” I smiled back. “You sure you’re up for this?” “Definitely!” I cried. “I need this. I just need something to distract me, y’know? Staying in with my thoughts wouldn’t do me any favours. Get me a drinking and get me dancing.” He looked like he didn’t believe me, but he tucked his lips into his mouth and nodded, and I pulled away from him before he could say anything else and get me crying. I just wanted to be very drunk in Thimble, that would be the easiest way to forget how rubbish I was feeling. We began trailing down the stairs in silence, and I must have been half way down before I realised I didn’t have my bag slung over my shoulder. “Bollocks.” I whispered to myself before turning around. “Can I borrow your key? I need to get my bag.” Zayn passed his keys over, which featured a keyring of a little picture of Zayn and myself drunk and adorable in Thimble, which made me smile to myself even though I had seen it a million times before, as I darted back up the stairs. I unlocked the door and stormed quickly down to the kitchen, a little taken aback when Harry was stood next to the boiling kettle. I clutched at my heart, having not expected a presence there. “Bloody hell!” I gulped. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He didn’t say anything, so I quickly went back to retrieving my bag, throwing in my phone and my purse and then slinging it over my shoulder, gulping hard again. Just as I was about to leave, he spoke. “Hope you have a shit night without me.” I stopped and turned around, glaring at him through thin eyes, just about holding in a small smile. “It will probably be ten times better without you there, Harry.” “I really doubt that.” He smirked. “Well, we shall see.” I left without saying anything else, shaking my head, but still smiling with my face to the floor. Harry had been right, maybe sometimes it was a little fun, the digs we would make at each other. But at the same time, a night out without him sounded ideal. + + + I waited until Zayn was in the toilet before I belted out of the front door of Thimble. It must have been around 3am, and I was absolutely wasted. I was tripping over myself, I felt like I was going to throw up every ten seconds, but I was just about holding it in. It was when I realised I could barely even dance without falling over, that I should go home. For some reason, I had decided to make that journey on my own. I don’t know why, maybe I didn’t want to cut anyone else’s fun short, I’m not too sure, but the second I was out of Zayn’s sight I made a run for the door. One thing I definitely didn’t make sense, was why I decided to walk home rather than get a taxi, even though there was £10 sitting in my purse for such a reason. Either way, I set off walking. I must have been around half way home when I heard someone yelling. I was comforted by the fact it was a females voice. If it was a male, I probably would have cried and gotten all paranoid, but it was definitely a female. I turned around to see a girl with a pair of heels in hand running up to me, her skirt riding up as she went. I came to a standstill and waited for her to catch up with me. “Hi!” She said, a little breathless. “I was walking home on my own and then I saw you walking home on your own and I figured it would be better if we walked home alone together. So not alone.” I stumbled back a little and nodded, swallowing back another round of sick, but already feeling a little better since it was the first time in hours I didn’t have an alcoholic beverage in my hand. The girl noticed my state pretty quickly and grabbed hold of my hand, then began leading the way to campus. We stumbled along in silence for a while, and I noticed she kept looking down to my feet, so I stared at her with drunk, tired eyes, waiting for an answer as to why. “You should take your heels off.” She told me. “But the floor is all wet and cold.” “No no it’s good, take them off. C’mon.” She stopped us both and bent down herself to unzip my shoes so I could step out of them easily. But to be fair, she was absolutely right. The floor was cold, but it only took a few seconds for the bottom of my feet to become accustom to it, and then we were off, my heels clutched in my left hand, my right hand linked with hers. We walked quietly for a while before I took in the fact I was holding hands with a girl I didn’t even know. “What’s your name?” I slurred. “Ronnie.” She said with a lopsided smile. “What’s yours?” “Pippa.” “Oh cuuuute. That’s a cute name.” “Thanks.” I smiled. “Are we officially friends now?” She asked hopefully. “Yes. Yeah. Definitely.” As far as I was concerned, we were. There wasn’t much else I needed to create a friendship than learning someone’s name, holding their hand and getting a good impression. Ronnie ticked all those boxes. “I’m guessing you’re a student, yeah?” She asked. “Mhm.” “What halls are you in?” “I’m in Rainbow Court.” I told her. “Ohhhh I’m sooooo jealous. I’m in Zoo Court. And zoo is perfect for it, full of fucking animals, it’s practically a cage. Eww. It’s awful.” “Yeah my friend lives there!” I beamed happily, tripping over the curb. “Do you know Ed?” “I don’t think so.” “He’s cute and ginger.” “YES! I’VE SEEN HIM! He’s the only ginger in the building.” Ronnie was adorable in every way, I figured. She had gorgeous dark skin, her lips were painted bright pink, and she just looked amazing. I think I drunkenly fell in love with her, just a little. I also really appreciated the company, I automatically felt safer. “He’s amazing. You should be his friend.” “Okay okay, I will.” We chatted casually and drunkenly between each other until we were at the front door to my building, knowing hers were only a couple of minutes walk away from her flat, but either way, I felt a sudden need to make sure she got back okay. “Alright, give me your number so you can text me when you’re back safe.” She grabbed my phone out of my hand and dialled herself, saving my number straight away and then skipping off down the path, like the happy little ball of sunshine she was. “I LOVE YOU, DRUNK, WALKING FRIEND!” She yelled over her shoulder. Before I could even return the declaration of love, she was gone. I saved her in my phone and slumped into the building and into the lift, only just noticing a text from Zayn. Zayn: You enter be safe I seat to god Pippa you’re a fucking nightmar I lub your. I felt bad for leaving him without saying anything, so I quickly text him back saying that I was fine, or something along those lines, so that he didn’t have to spend the rest of his night worrying about me. By the time I was in the kitchen, with the kettle full and boiling, my body limp on the sofa, Ronnie text me saying she was alive and well. I put my phone down, and I think it all just hit me then, all the drunken tears I had been holding in all night decided to spill there and then, and I completely collapsed. I began blubbering, hiding my face with my trembling hands as it all fell from me, the things I had locked up and hoped not to feel for just one fucking night, or ever again, really. It was loud, and ugly, but I couldn’t stop. I kept wiping away at my face, seeing the black mascara on the back of my fingers, very aware of how much of a mess I looked, but it was this unstoppable flow of tears. I was broken. I knew that was the peak of it for me, and in a way, that made me feel better. That night, was going to be the worst of it. That was the lowest I would be. The kettle had boiled long ago, but I still sat weeping on the sofa when I heard a bedroom door open. Harry appeared out of the dark hallway, just in black sweatpants, his face low as he stood staring at me in the doorway. But before he could say anything, I barked. “Please don’t start, Harry. I’m not in the mood.” I just about held myself together to say. “Please just leave me alone. I want to be left alone. I cannot be arsed with you saying anything to me. Just leave me alone.” I buried my face back into my hands and avoided seeing his reaction, trying to breathe in and calm down, but by the time I breathed back out it was a blubber of tears. There must have been a minute of silence, if not two, and I was hoping he had left, he had quietly gone back to his room without another word and just left me be like I had asked him to. But that just wasn’t the case. What came instead, was the biggest blowout me and Harry had ever had. I heard him clear his throat before he spoke, so I dropped my hands to see him. “If you want a little privacy, maybe you shouldn’t cry in the kitchen.” He smirked sarcastically. “Just saying.” My face fell as I watched him slump off into his bedroom without a care in the world. There was no way Harry could have been that dense, to not realise it really wasn’t the time to make some kind of shitty comment to me. He needed to leave me alone. I had asked him to leave me alone. He knew my situation, he knew what I was going through, he knew how hard I had taken it. I couldn’t believe that he’d said something, when I had just about managed to ask him to leave it, just for the night. He couldn’t even do that. As soon as I heard his bedroom door click shut, I absolutely flipped. I screamed, actually screamed as I pushed to my feet and charged to his door. My screaming stopped when I tugged on his door handle, finding it locked. I was going insane. I started pounding on his door with a tight fist, yelling as I went. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, STYLES. I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU! YOU’RE A PRICK, I HATE YOU. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR AND SAY THAT AGAIN!” I continued banging, but I heard no reply. He was giving me nothing and that felt even worse. I was so wound up, almost ready to hit him if he showed his face. I was so drunk and upset and angry I needed to see him and yell in his face, I just needed to. Still, he didn’t answer. So I kicked his door. The rattle was so much louder, so much more intense, so threatening and harsh. I kicked hard, relentless, my fists gripped by my side and my face scrunched, unleashing kick after kick after kick. But when Harry finally opened the door, that changed. He flung it open, and the look on his face was so dark and hostile, I cowered automatically, backing away from him so I was further towards the kitchen, my heart in my throat. But he pounced. In no time whatsoever he had me up against Ringo’s door, his forearm pushed up against my throat, trapping me against the wood. My eyes wide, shaking and scared, trapped between him and the wood behind me, alarmed as I stared up to him. I’d never seen an anger like that before. Not from anyone. ”DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DARE KICK MY DOOR AGAIN!” He screamed. “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Tears slipped down my face as I stared up to him, grateful he wasn’t pushing his arm hard enough to hurt me, but definitely enough to threaten me. He didn’t want to hurt me, but just scare the living shit out of me, and it was working. Because he could have hurt me, if he really wanted to. He looked like he was ready to kill, but at the same time he looked sick, pale and shaking and lost somewhere within his mind. I had no idea what I had done to stir that reaction in him, why it had gotten so out of hand. His fist tightened, but before he could take it too far, the door behind me flung open, and I tumbled inside, crawling backwards to get away from the him. He stared down to me on the floor with hatred in his eyes before Ringo slammed the it shut and locked it, pressing her back against it, looking down to me on the floor, utterly haunted by what she’d just seen. I collapsed back down to the floor, my eyes staring up to the ceiling as I burst into tears again, shaken and scared. + + + It was confusing waking up in a room that was almost identical to mine, just a little bit backwards and decorated differently. That completely threw me. It wasn’t like it was familiar to me, like Zayn’s room. It was a room I had never been in before, but it was somehow homely. I sat upright almost immediately, pulling the sheets up and taking a deep breath in, looking around and trying to piece together the night before, which didn’t take me long. What had happened was hard to forget. A few moments later, the door gently opened, but it still made me jump and shiver as Ringo walked into her room, a cup of tea in hand. “Hi.” I whispered breathlessly. “Hey.” She smiled kindly. “I made you tea. I… I see you drink a lot of tea.” She placed it down on the floor next her bed, which I still couldn’t believe I had found myself in, and then went and sat on the chair beside her desk, looking to me with concerned eyes. “Thank you.” I mumbled. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, yeah... I’m fine. I’m a little shook up, but I’m fine.” “What the hell happened?” She burst out. “He just... he said something that pissed me off. And I went like, banging and kicking his door because I was so angry, but then he flipped and... Shit. Thank you, for opening your door. I know we’re not exactly friends but-” “NO! We are!” She objected. “I’m just... I get so withdrawn. I’ve always been like that, but you’re my friend, as far as I’m concerned. I had to help. I knew something bad was happening, I just knew it.” I sat trying to remember how to breathe. Everything was bizarre, and I was so incredibly hungover, which wasn’t helping at all. Everything that had happened the night before, and even speaking to Ringo, was making me feel astonishingly strange. So many times, I had wanted to speak to Ringo and be her friend, and now the opportunity had presented itself marvellously, and I had no idea what to say. “Thank you.” Was all I could say, again. “Did he hurt you?” She asked. “No, not at all. Just scared me.” I caught a look of my face in the mirror across from me, and saw that my skin was actually relatively clear. I prodded my fingers at my cleansed skin as I stared at myself. “Sorry.” She mumbled. “I helped take your makeup off last night. Hope that’s okay.” “Of course that’s okay!” I picked up the tea and took my first sip, no matter how hot it was, letting it warm my hands, which had quickly gotten cold after they were out of the sheets. The two of us stared off into nothing for a while, without saying a word. All I could think about was how last night was my low point, I knew that even then. Everything had to get better from then on. I needed everything to get better. Because I felt like I was ten seconds away from completely falling apart.

[jilliancares]

Cat and Mouse: Chapter 2

Word Count: 3k

ao3 ; wattpad

masterlist ; next chapter

CHAPTER TWO:

TWELVE YEARS EARLIER:

"Daniel Howell?" Mr. Peters called.

There was silence. "Daniel? Is there a Daniel present?"

"He's here, sir," a small boy from the front piped up. "He just doesn't talk."

There were a few snickers at this. Dan ignored them. He was sitting in the back of the class—his preferred location—with his legs pulled up onto the seat of his chair. He was small enough that tasks like this were easily accomplished—something that other kids noticed and tended to pick on.

"And who is he?" Mr. Peters asked, sounding confused. Heads from all around the room turned, and fingers pointed. Dan stared at the wood grain on his desk, ignoring the lot of them.

He hated the first day of school. All the teachers, at this point, would try to talk to him—before they realized that he wouldn't respond. That he was different. That he was weird, as the other kids liked to say. But he never responded. He rarely even spoke to his own parents.

Even worse was that this wasn't only his first day of school, it was his first day of middle school. An entirely new building with entirely new teachers and entirely new students. It was the worst.

Mr. Peters, thankfully, didn't try to talk to Dan after that and simply marked him down as present. He continued on to the next student.

It was true that the kids in his grade didn’t like him. Well, technically his grade. He’d skipped both first and second, and he was currently the only ten year old in the sixth grade class, where the rest of his peers were most likely already twelve. People liked to say he was smart, that he was especially bright for his age. Dan didn’t think he was smart. He just thought everybody else was dumb.

As Mr. Peters was talking, introducing himself by attempting to be funny and relatable to a bunch of children (Dan sighed and laid his head down on his desk), the door to his classroom opened. In walked an administrator is a too-tight pencil skirt, guiding a black-haired boy with large square glasses perched on the end of his nose. As Dan watched, chin propped uncaringly on his forearms, the boy pushed them back up his nose.

“Mr. Peters,” the woman interrupted, and Mr. Peters stopped mid-sentence to turn and look at her.

“Oh!” he said, surprised. “And who is this?”

“This is Phil Lester—he’s transferred from Stonewall Elementary on the wayside of town.”

“Well then welcome, Mister Phil Lester! Why don’t you take a seat wherever you see fit?”

Mister Phil Lester pushed up his glasses once more, taking a quick look around the room.

“That’s Phil Lester?” the boy sat in front of Dan whispered to his friend. His name was Piers.

“You know him?”

“He’s won the local science fair the last four years—went on to regionals last year, I heard. He’s like, a wicked genius.”

“Think he’ll let us copy his homework?”

Piers slapped his friend on the arm, laughing. Dan rolled his eyes. It was typical of his classmates, really. They could hardly do anything for themselves, and Dan considered it entirely their fault that they were absolutely useless.

Dan looked up once more when the door slammed, the lady having left the room. He blinked, looking around for the new kid. Had he gone?

“‘Scuse me?” a quiet voice said. Dan felt his mood instantly sour. How bad could his luck be? “Could I sit here?”

Dan turned his head so that his other cheek was laying on his arms, and he looked up at Phil Lester. He looked nice enough, and it wasn’t like Dan was going to tell him no. Even though, a small part of him was very, very tempted to tell him to go away. Instead, he raised his eyebrows.

“He doesn’t talk, mate,” Piers’s friend said. Jacob? Johnson? “I’m Carl,” Not Jacob-Johnson said. Oh well, Dan couldn’t be expected to remember all their names.

“Phil,” Phil responded quietly. Mr. Peters was back to talking, completely oblivious to the quiet confrontation in the back of the room.

“Might as well sit next to us,” Piers piped up. He picked up his backpack from where it was occupying the seat beside him and moved it onto his lap. “If you ever intend to have a conversation, anyway.” Carl snickered at that, and Dan lifted his head and, considering the problem solved, turned to face the other way again. It wasn’t like he needed to pay attention in class, it all came easily to him anyway. Not to mention that today was only the first day—they probably wouldn’t be learning anything anyway.

“He seems nice enough to me, actually,” Phil responded, and Dan felt himself glare. What a stupid prick! Phil sat down beside Dan, jostling the table slightly, and Dan huffed into his elbow crease. Phil Lester would learn soon enough—just as everybody else had—that there was absolutely nothing entertaining about sitting next to him.

Unfortunately, Phil continued sitting next to him in the days to follow, even when nothing changed at all and Dan continued to not say a single word to him, or to anyone. And it was for a simple reason, really. He just didn’t want to become the bad guy.

See, there was something wrong with Dan. He’d figured it out a few years ago; before he’d been too self-involved to realize why things always went his way, and why that was wrong. And once he’d figured it out, he’d stopped speaking at all. Because Dan was evil. He had an evil power, anyway, and people would do anything he said if he told them to. Obviously, the only solution was to just not say anything ever, and then nobody could be hurt by him.

“Can I borrow a pencil?” Phil asked one class. Dan was leaning far back in his chair, his eyes closed and his face was tipped toward the ceiling. He opened one eye to look at his neighbor. Phil was smiling at him, and Dan squinted, trying to figure out if he was being tricked.

Finally, sure that if he had to endure looking at that pleading smile for a moment more he would surely combust, Dan sighed and reached down for his bag, which he retrieved a pencil from. He handed it to Phil.

“Thanks,” Phil said. “I’ll give it back after class.”

Despite Phil promising to give it back, Dan didn’t take it. When the older boy tried handing it to him, Dan simply stood up and walked out of the class with the rest of the students, the school’s intercom bell system blaring in his ears.

He couldn’t have cursed this simple interaction with the other boy more. Regardless of what he wanted, he found himself becoming interested in the other boy. He noticed that he was still using Dan’s pencil in every class, and despite Dan’s refusal to talk to him, he still conversed with him, even if his conversations were entirely one-sided.

If there was one thing about himself that Dan hated, other than the fact that he was pre-wired for evilness, it was the fact that he was different. It wasn’t enough that he’d skipped two grades, finding himself in a sea of students older than him and infinitely taller. He also had to be what he heard referred to as gay, and not in a good way.

He’d first heard the word as an insult, both directed at him and at others. At first it’d meant nothing to him, but eventually, curiosity had gotten the better of him and he’d gone searching through his father’s library for a dictionary. There, he learned that to be gay was to like the same gender, which still meant pretty much nothing to Dan. He didn’t like anyone—at the time.

Strangely, though, Dan found himself beginning to notice things. Like how when Tristan, a tall eighth grader with a squared jaw, bumped into him in the hallway, only to grab him shoulder to keep him from falling as he apologized, Dan’s heart thundered something fierce.

He noticed things like how boys’ shirts fit them and how they smiled and how it felt when particularly cute ones stood in close proximity to him. More than anything, he noticed how uncomfortable and sweaty he felt during English class, when Phil was seated directly beside him. He noticed how tight his chest felt, how aware he was of his every movement, his every breath. And when Phil spoke to him—for the first time in two years—he found himself wanting to respond.

It started with the touching. Phil Lester, it turned out, was a very touchy person. He would tap Dan’s arm to get his attention, or grab the side of his shirt. Dan would always, always, always flinch, and his face would turn bright red. He just couldn’t help it.

Phil didn’t seem to notice, thankfully, but he did notice that he was managing to get Dan’s attention this way. Before, when Phil spoke to him, Dan would listen without looking, finding silent amusement in his words. Now, he was forced to look into the older boy’s eyes as he spoke, and Dan felt a whole army of caterpillars wriggling in his stomach, threatening to turn into butterflies.

Even worse was the first time Phil managed to make him smile. They were listening to Mr. Peters, as usual. Well, Phil was listening. Dan didn’t get why he bothered, when he was obviously so smart already. He knew all the answers, didn’t struggle in any areas, and yet he wrote down what was written on the board, word for word.

Dan, of course, wasn’t talking. He was resting his eyes, or in other words—taking a nap. He woke to some unkind words, however.

“Well, he is ten,” Carl was saying, and Piers snickered. Dan was automatically tuned in. He was the only ten-year-old here, who else could they be talking about?

“Think he still has a nap time?”

Someone cleared their throat. And then: “Excuse me? Are you talking about Dan?”

Dan was still pretending to be asleep, but he stiffened slightly as Phil spoke. Phil was probably going to start making fun of him too, now that he’d realized Dan was ten and not only the puniest, but also the youngest one in their grade.

“Yeah,” Piers snickered. “He like, skipped two grades or something. Might explain why he’s so small.”

Phil didn’t answer for a few moments. And then, “That’s awesome,” he said. “He must be brilliant.”

Piers and Carl shut up after that, and Dan stayed tucked into his arms, but he was grinning widely. Before he left class that day, he sent Phil a tiny smile. Also a huge mistake.

Phil seemed to take this smile as permission to consider the two of them friends. He talked to Dan even more during class, distracting him from the material when he was actually trying to pay attention. He seemed to have made it his life’s goal to get Dan to keep smiling then, which was kind of impossible not to do when it was all someone was trying to accomplish—Phil was bound to be successful occasionally.

He also took it upon himself to start going out of his way to say hi to Dan in the hallways. Before, he’d occasionally waved when passing Dan, when he happened to be looking straight forward instead of at his feet, anyway. But now not only did he manage to see Dan all the time, he called out to him at full volume and would walk with him down the halls. He would even stop at Dan’s locker in between classes! Dan found this distasteful.

He fell in love with Phil on a Tuesday. It was an ordinary Tuesday, in no way different from all the others. But Phil did something that had never happened before.

“Hey Dan,” someone said, and Dan turned. It was Piers. Dan raised his eyebrows, in what he hoped was a ‘what do you want?’ kind of expression. School had already ended, and most of the kids had filed outside to board their buses. Dan was a walker, his house near enough that he didn’t have to suffer the humidity of the bus, nor the stupidity of those who rode it. “You’ve done the English homework already, haven’t you?”

Dan shrugged. Of course he’d done it. He did most of his homework in class, actually. Why bother paying attention to learn the material when he could do it himself instead? That’s why he didn’t mind homework so much. It was just classwork, to him, and he was likely smarter because of it. Still, he didn’t have to tell Piers this.

“Liar,” Piers said, and he took a step forward. He was taller than Dan, but then again, everybody was. It was never so apparent until they were actually towering over him, however. Dan crossed his arms. He could make this boy rip out his own eyeballs if he so desired. Which he didn’t.

“Give it to me,” Piers insisted. Dan rolled his eyes and turned, starting off down the hallway. Only a moment later, he was being slammed against the wall of lockers, gasping in pain. “Give it to me,” Piers repeated. Dan shook his head stubbornly. Piers dug his fingers into Dan’s shoulders, before pulling him forward and slamming him into the lockers again. Dan bit down on a groan.

“Do you not like this?” Piers taunted. “Why don’t you tell me to stop then?”

I could, thought Dan recklessly. I could make him leave me alone.

Dan was breathing heavily, his heart racing at the thought of saying something. He opened his mouth—

“Shove off, Piers,” a voice that was definitely not Dan’s barked. Piers did let go though, looking around in surprise. Dan imitated his action. There, at the other end of the hall, was Phil. He was stalking towards them, and Piers only had to take one look at the expression on Phil’s face before he was running.

Dan, still panting, continued to lean against the lockers. He’d nearly spoken. Not only would he have… have… controlled Piers, he would’ve been found out. And who wouldn’t be put in prison for having such an ability as his?

“Are you okay?” Phil asked quietly, and Dan zoned back in, realizing Phil had finished traversing the hall and had come to stop in front of him. Dan nodded.

“Did you miss your bus?” Dan shook his head. Phil frowned, confused. All the buses had already left, but he hadn’t yet realized that Dan walked to school every day.

“Well, my mum’s here—she can drive us home.”

Dan wasn’t able to argue (for obvious reasons) and he simply complied as Phil grabbed his wrist and started leading him out of the school. He had a warm, horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wished Phil would hold his hand.

When they made it to the car, Phil opened the door for Dan, and then climbed in after him.

“Hey Mum!” Phil said, as they buckled their seat belts. “This is Dan! Is it okay if we give him a ride home?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Lester said, smiling pleasantly in the rearview mirror. “And how are you, dear?” She was still looking at Dan.

“Oh—” Phil interrupted quickly, but for once, Dan didn’t want to seem like a weirdo. And he felt oddly… comfortable. He cleared his throat.

“I’m good,” he said quietly, smiling politely at her. She smiled back before putting the car in drive, and Dan glanced over at Phil, who looked like the blood had drained out of his face, his mouth hanging open. Luckily, Dan didn’t have to talk again during the car ride, as Phil kept his mother well occupied with stories about his day. But when they pulled up to Dan’s house, he turned to Dan.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Phil!” his mother reprimanded. “How impoli—”

But Dan was nodding. He didn’t feel like he had any other option, really, and this was going to have to happen sooner or later. He knew that Phil would want answers.

“Just for a little bit Mum!” Phil said jovially, and then he was racing up Dan’s driveway, Dan lagging behind him.

He unlocked the door for them both, and then he was shutting it behind them, Phil’s mum driving off to wherever they lived.

“Dan?” his mother called, and Dan wandered into the kitchen, following her voice. Phil trailed after him. His mother turned when Dan entered the room and her eyes widened when she saw Phil.

“And who’s this? Did you bring a friend home?”

Dan shrugged.

“I’m Phil, Mrs. Howell,” Phil said politely. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh it’s no problem!” his mother answered. “Why don’t you two go up to Dan’s room and play while I start putting dinner together. Can you stay, Phil?”

“That’d be great!” Phil agreed.

Dan felt like everything was being orchestrated around him. Despite his annoyance at being excluded, he grabbed Phil’s wrist and led him through the house, taking him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. He suddenly felt shy. All of his personal belongings were in there, all of his embarrassing books and games. He was very abruptly aware of the fact that he was only ten while Phil was twelve.

Regardless, he led Phil into his room and closed the door behind them, before simply standing there with his arms crossed.

“You talk?” Phil demanded. Dan shrugged, and Phil’s eyebrows lowered in confusion.

Dan huffed loudly. “Sometimes,” he answered.

Phil grinned. “I love your voice,” he conveyed, and Dan felt his face go bright red. Phil, for some reason unknown to man, pulled Dan into a hug, which wasn’t helping Dan’s flustered nature in any way. Still, he tried to relax into Phil’s arms. After all, it wasn’t every day that your crush decided to hug you.

~~

next chapter

uploaded a bit early bc i won’t have time tomorrow morning - i’m taking my sat!