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navstuffs · 3 years ago

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Clueless

Pairing: Barista!Robert Pattinson x Female!Reader

Summary: A clueless barista and his even more clueless crush.

Warning: PURE FLUFF, awkward in love Robert

Authors note: you usual AU coffee shop fanfic. i apologize for taking so long doing those requests, things are kinda cray cray for me rn but i will soon get the handle of things again.

Robert sees her every morning, punctually at 7:48 am. He knew she worked at a company around his coffee shop and she was usually always on her phone, earphones on-ear. She always asked for the same drink every morning, sometimes a warm sandwich. And, she always tipped very well.

She always treated him nicely but Robert never had a chance to have more than a casual fast conversation with her. Freddie, his coworker, kept teasing him every time she walked in.

7:48 am on a Thursday. (Y/N) walks in with her earphones on, texting. She gives a fast nod with a shy smile in Robert's direction, murmuring her order like she still needed (Robert knew her order at the top of his head). She seems extremely busy like any other morning, more listening than talking and not directly looking at his eyes. Freddie liked to poke fun at that, saying she probably had a crush on him as well and Robert never realized.

"Are you going to make it extra special for your girlfriend?" Freddie whispers to tease him while Robert starts preparing her order.

"Shhh! She could hear that!"

Robert looks over his shoulder to see (Y/N) still very concentrated on her phone. She doesn't seem she could hear but, he couldn't risk it. (Y/N) thinking he was a creep is the last thing he wants.

"This girl has been coming here for almost two months and two months I see you drooling over there. It is hard as your friend, you know?"

"Freddie, shut it."

Freddie lifts his arms as a sign of giving up as Robert finishes her order. He brings the coffee to the counter and (Y/N) already has the money prepared on her hands. Robert knows what comes next: she gives him the money, lets him keep the change, and smiles, leaving. To repeat itself on the next day and the other.

It was after a week he was intrigued with her. Robert had other regulars like her, but no one fascinated him as much she did. She had a different factor, an aura around her he couldn't quite grasp. As time passed, this feeling got stronger but he never did anything about it. He just didn't want to scare her off.

"You did something with your hair?"

Robert was awakened by her loud and clear voice. She never asked him something so directly or personal before, from the usual "How was the weekend?" or "How is life going?"

"Did I do something with my ha-no? Mhm, no. Nothing. Not that I know of."

(Y/N) nods, biting her lips and it gets very awkward all of sudden. Robert doesn't really know what to say and (Y/N) is standing there, looking everywhere but at him, not even taking her usual sip of coffee, the money forgotten on top of the counter. Robert blurts the first thing that comes into his mind:

"So, like, global warming, right? Are all those glaciers just melting into the ocean? Are we all going to die in a few years or what?"

Robert wants to hit himself immediately as (Y/N) looks at him as she just saw an alien. Good work, Robert. She won't see you as a creep but now as a freak.

"Yeah. I better be going or I am going to be late. Bye."

Robert wants to hide behind the counter as (Y/N) leaves. Global warming, really? The best thing he could come up with is that? Not, oh yeah, you also look really pretty today, (Y/N). As you always do. No, that would be being a creep. He just needed to do better, that is all. Control himself and do better.

-x-

Friday 7:45 am. Robert watches the front door nervously. He is worried if he will ever see (Y/N) again, hoping he didn't scare her off from yesterday, having to hear Freddie tease him for the rest of the day. She could always find a better coffee place to sit and a barista who didn't talk about bad topics so early in the morning because that's exactly what people want to hear. More charming than he was as well.

The door opens and Robert's day lights up seeing (Y/N). She looks radiant today and to his surprise, she doesn't have her phone in her hands or earphones on her ears. She is even wearing makeup today, something she never did.

"Morning, Rob!"

"Morning."

That was weird. The whole night he thought he would never see (Y/N) again and there she was, looking prettier than ever. Robert never understood how she could look this pretty so early while he looked like an old piece of bread that was stepped over.

"Can you maybe make something different for me today?" (Y/N) asks as if trying to see if she really could do that.

"Oh? Like what?"

"I don't know...you can choose! I trust you whatever you do it anyway. It always tastes so good."

Robert could swear he had never seen her so nervous before. Or so radiant. Or so excited. (Y/N) never looked at him too times anyway. She was always in her own space, doing her things. Robert always presumed she was a very busy and professional woman so he didn't bother. But now, watching her look nervous makes him have hope. Maybe he did have a chance after all?

"Something important happening today?" Robert wonders, eager to know what is making her so happy as he prepared her order.

"Yeah! Kinda going for an important presentation today. If lands well and it will, I can get a big promotion!"

"Oh, wow! That's great! I hope it goes well!"

"Yeah. I can half share this victory with you and Freddie. You guys have been keeping me alive since I transferred to this city. I wouldn't be anywhere without you."

"That isn't true. We are just fueling your abilities." Robert blushes hearing (Y/N)'s worlds, his belly with the usual inside butterflies he only felt when she was around. He was almost done with her order, drawing a heart on top of it.

"No! I don't admit you speaking like that about my favorite barista, Robert. You guys have been very nice to me. I'm still pretty new here and you always made me feel welcome, although I am always on my phone. I will always be grateful."

Was Robert's imagination or did she a little embarrassed like she spoke too much? (Y/N) fixes herself as Robert brings her order to the kitchen counter. She looks at his heart drawn and grins, grabbing her wallet. When she was about to pay, Robert shakes his head.

"No. Today is your great day. Keep it for the celebration. It is on the house today. You can buy us a beer or something."

"Or that definitely will happen. I will pass here, after work, and tell you the news and take you to a beer."

"Deal."

-x-

Friday, 5:10 pm. Freddie had left about thirty minutes ago as Robert prolonged his cleaning. Robert might have forgotten to tell Freddie about (Y/N)'s invitation to a beer after she would get her promotion (because Robert knew she would). Robert kept cleaning, looking at the door and clock anxiously. Robert wouldn't mind waiting for (Y/N) for more two hours if was needed.

A single knock on the door made him drop his cleaning cloth and run towards the door. It started raining outside when Freddie left and got intensively worse, hitting the window. When he opens the door, (Y/N) is standing there. A completely different (Y/N) from earlier.

This one looks defeated. Her make-up is destroyed by the rain. Her clothes are crumpled and she looks like she has been crying. Robert stares at her and lets her pass without saying a word. (Y/N) sits down on a chair, glancing at nothing for a few moments.

"What happened?" Robert worried questioning makes her head turn to him. Her eyes seem red with all the crying.

"I bombed the whole shit, Rob. I messed it up. I fucked it up. I ruined it."

Robert sits down by her chair, wanting to rub (Y/N)'s back to at least give her some comfort. He holds himself back, rubbing his hands together.

"Are you sure? It could have been only your perspective, (Y/N)."

"They were laughing at me at the end! Like, my boss even had to step in because it was getting humiliating to me and he hates me! Can you understand how bad this has been for a man who hates my guts to save me?"

Robert doesn't answer, simply letting (Y/N) vent. She looks like she needed this. Robert just wishes he could do something about it. (Y/N) is grabbing some napkins from his table and Robert tries, slowly:

"I am sorry (Y/N). Do you need anything? A coffee? A candy?"

A hug, maybe?

"No. It is fine. I am sorry you had to wait for me for two hours for me to come here with bad news."

"I am not mad. I like to stay here. It gives me peace."

(Y/N) wipes her tears with the napkin and they both continue to watch the rain hitting on the door and window. It is not an uncomfortable silence this time, more like a recomforting one. She was lucky she wasn't fired that day or sent back to her city. She would be sad not to see Robert every day.

"I am sorry I can't take you to a beer today."

"It is okay. We can leave it for another day."

Uh.

Oh.

Robert feels his face turning red, looking everywhere except at (Y/N)'s side. She isn't talking or reacting to which doesn't mean good news, usually. Now he was both a freak and a creep. Good scoring, Robert.

"I wouldn't mind."

Robert glances in her direction to see her watching him with curious eyes. She seems to be trying when she questions:

"Just me and you right? No Freddie, right?"

"No Freddie."

"I would like that. A lot."

Robert nods, his face still red as a tomato, and (Y/N) smiles ear to ear.

TAGLIST: @uwiuwi

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS ARE OPEN | TAGLIST

#robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x female reader #robert pattinson fanfics #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson imagines #robert pattinson au #FREDDIE IS FREDDIE STROMA #not my best fanfic i admit #i hope you all enjoy it #requests

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fandomlit · 4 years ago

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secretive (shane madej x reader)

requested by anon “Could you do a Shane Madej x reader where he thinks the reader is cheating on him with Ryan. Like they whisper things to eachother and stop when Shane enters the room, they text all the time and hang out without Shane a lot. He ends up snapping at the reader about it but it turns out they were actually planning a suprise for him.”

summary shane madej has never been an insecure guy. but when it comes to you, that side can come out to play.

gif cred belongs to @ryanbergara

shane was rarely insecure. he had learned to become proud of who he is, lanky limbs and all. but of course, there was the occasional slip up--especially when it came to you.

when shane first met you, he was smitten. your dorky personality, stunning beauty, and unrelenting kindness drew him into you instantly, and he chased that feeling to the ends of the earth. and now, almost a year and a half into your relationship, he could honestly say that he has never been happier.

but of course, those pesky insecurities come out to play sometimes.

shane had volunteered to do coffee run that morning before filming unsolved. when he came back to the office where he had left you both, he saw you two sitting unbearably close at the desk, talking and smiling and ignoring everyone else in the room setting up for the shoot.

trying his best to brush it off, he entered the office and gave you both a smile. “caffeine time?”

you leaned away from ryan, clapping excitedly. “caffeine time!”

he gave a wide grin at your cheeriness and grabby hands, handing you the order he had memorized on your first date.

you stood up from the desk and giggled, “you can have your seat back. i gotta get back to work.”

“alright, have fun,” shane smiled. you gave him a quick kiss before skipping off to your workplace. after shane settled in his seat with his coffee, he said to ryan as casually as he could, “what were the whispers about?”

ryan gave him an entirely unconvincing confused look. “what whispers?”

“between you and y/n,” shane explained, motioning to the door you had just exited through.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” ryan said, shaking his head at shane. before shane could press any further, you came back into the office.

“sorry,” you giggled. “forgot my phone.” you snatched off of the small table and then pointed to ryan with a serious expression. “text me, bergara.” and then you left, just as quickly as you had come.

ryan looked up from his prepared manila folder to the camera crew, not daring to glance at the unintentionally glaring shane, and spoke, “are we ready to roll?”

“who are you texting?” shane teased when he entered the living room to see you curled up, smiling at your phone.

“just ryan,” you shrugged. that didn’t sit right with shane.

“you two seem awfully close lately,” shane tried to comment nonchalantly. but if he implicated that anything was wrong in his tone, you didn’t notice. you just giggled as your phone buzzed with another text. shane took a sip of his tea with a frown.

after a while of smiling at your phone, you moved over to cuddle with shane as he watched a show on netflix.

you placed a kiss on his cheek as you draped yourself over him. “i love you.”

that did lighten his heart a bit. “i love you, too.”

ryan and shane got lunch together many days of the week. then he would come back to the office, pay you a visit in yours, and get back to work. but today, ryan had a different idea in mind.

“why don’t we eat with y/n today?” the shorter man proposed. that unsettled shane a bit. supernatural beings were nothing to him, but a guy taking invested interest in his girl friend as of late? that rattled him.

shane excused, “she’s usually busy during our lunch.. but we can check.” he shrugged. “no harm in that.” and though his thoughts betrayed his words, he led the way to your office.

you were on the phone when shane peeked in. you waved him in as you spoke, “it’s alright, lea.” you tapped your pencil against your desk as the boys filtered in. “yeah, just send it and we can edit and complete. it’s no problem. just relax and enjoy a day off, girl. of course. see you.” you hung up and gave the boys a smile.

“what was that about?” shane asked, coming closer to your desk to give you a quick kiss.

“was that the girl who hasn’t shown up for the past few days?” ryan asked, taking the seat across from your desk.

“yes,” you groaned. “im trying to be patient with her, she’s using some sick days so i can’t really get on her, but did she have to take off in the middle of this project?” you let out a huff.

shane was slightly bothered that ryan knew more about this than he did. but instead, he asked, “would it comfort you at all if we had lunch with you today? or is this girl taking up your schedule?”

you grasped his hand in yours. “please have lunch with me.” you reached out your hand to ryan, who laughed as he took it. you squeezed both of their hands, though shane’s lips were now tightly pursed. “this morning has been insane.”

“we got you,” ryan nodded with a grin that you returned sweetly. when you looked up at shane, he quickly changed his expression into a grin. he felt his jealousy rising second by second during the entire lunch.

shane had just walked into the breakroom to see you and ryan laughing as you poured yourself a cup of tea. “that’s actually not a bad idea, bergara. where’d you come up with that one?”

“i’ve got so much in this noggin, you don’t even know, l/n,” ryan responded easily, making you laugh again. shane still hadn’t been noticed, but he felt as if his heart was beating so loud that he surely would be.

“but yeah, shane stays late every thursday,” you continued, “so if you came over right after work, we should be able to get it all done and shane wouldn’t even know!”

“im a genius,” ryan praised.

“that you are,” you agreed, holding your cup out. he clinked his water bottle against it and you both turned to the door. shane was long gone.

you had stayed a little bit late that day, and so shane was stuck pacing your shared apartment as he awaited your arrival home, thinking of what to say.

his blood boiled as he thought of the implications of the past couple of weeks. you and ryan were definitely planning something. and with how close you two were lately, it was probably something that shane, your boyfriend, would not care for at all. and if his thoughts were right, then had this happened before? is he only noticing this now? he couldn’t even begin with what he needed to say to you.

you were the most important thing to him. from the moment he met you, he knew he had to be with you. and now that you could be cheating on him with his best friend? his heart was pumping and aching in his chest, and he didn’t know whether to be angry or sad.

when you opened the door, his head immediately shot up. “hey,” you smiled. after you closed the door behind you and took in his frantic state, you asked, “something wrong?”

“we gotta talk,” was all he could manage as he shook his head.

you furrowed your brow as you slipped off your jacket and dropped your bag. “okay..?” you stepped toward him. “what about?”

but your innocence just seemed to frustrate him. “i know about you and ryan.” you stopped in your tracks, but he didn’t dare glance at your reaction to his words. he was worried about what he’d find there. “i heard you guys talking in the breakroom earlier about meeting up when im not home, and how you two always text lately, and you’re always.. touching and..” he took a breath. “i know, y/n.” he finally looked up at you to see your face frozen in what seemed to be shock and concern. you stepped closer to him.

“shane, what?” he stood his ground, arms crossed as you moved in front of him. “shane, no.. no, i love you so much, i would never cheat on you.” you placed your hands on his arms and looked him dead in his eyes. but his expression remained stone.

“why should i believe that?” he spoke lowly.

he wished he hadn’t seen your heart break in your eyes. “shane, ryan and i are your best friends, we wouldn’t dare do that to you. we..” you let out a sigh through your nose and removed your hands from his arms to fish your phone out of your pocket. you unlocked it and handed it to him, revealing the texts between you and ryan.

scrolling up, he found:

boogara, 12:38pm okay, this might be a stupid question..

y/n, 12:42pm i love it already, do tell

boogara, 12:44pm alright do you think it would be at all possible to get balloons custom made as characters from the hotdaga?

y/n, 12:45pm OHMYGOD I LOVE IT WE ABSOLUTELY CAN IM LOOKING INTO IT RN

boogara, 12:46pm shane better appreciate this idea as much as you do when his birthday comes around

y/n, 12:48pm ryan, that man will celebrate harder than he’s ever celebrated before

boogara, 12:49pm he better

shane didn’t know what to make of that as he handed his phone back to you.

“we were planning a surprise party for your birthday,” you sighed, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “that’s why we’re so.. secretive.” you twiddled with your hands nervously. “but i guess not anymore.” shane didn’t know what to say. you looked up to him sadly. “you thought i was cheating on you..?”

shane’s heart burned with guilt. softly, he spoke, “i did, yeah.” your frown deepened. “but not because i don’t trust you,” he explained, taking your hand in his. you looked to your hands instead of his desperate eyes for a moment. “but because i just..” you looked up at him, and the words spilled out, “i don’t know, im just always in awe that i get to be with you and... i guess i got scared that maybe you thought i wasn’t good enough for you, because god knows im not.”

“shane,” you said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. “you’re perfect for me. ryan is definitely one of my best friends, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the love i have for you.” he offered you a short smile. “i only have eyes for you, dork.”

“im sorry,” he whispered. you pulled him in for a tight hug.

“i am, too,” you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. “will you still act surprised for your birthday..? ryan’s pretty proud of himself.”

“i’d do anything for that little guy,” he sighed, pulling away from you to gaze at your sweet smile. “let’s go watch drunk history.”

forever tags <3 @bombardia @simonsbluee @ari-shipping-stuff @cheshirecat107 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof

#bfu x reader #buzzfeed unsolved x reader #bfu fanfic #buzzfeed unsolved fanfic #shane madej x reader #shane madej fanfic #youtubers x reader #youtuber fanfic

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acewlwtoast · 4 years ago

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Donnerstag 19:40

Okay, so I took most of my notes when i was really tired, so I don’t know how consistent this is all gonna be.

Also, sorry that this is so late. But here you go, a few ramblings and thoughts about yesterday’s clip.

It's all these Thursdays how dare they

Fatou looks SO tired.

ALL THOSE PEOPLE texting her. I'm exhausted just looking at it

And OF COURSE Fatou has to do the thing on Monday. She has already worked on this whole thing more than everyone else. I think it would've been a good opportunity for Mailin to stick up for once.

Wait FATOU IS WEARING A DIFFERENT JACKET

Like, she's almost falling asleep just standing there.

Kieu My opening the door....she really is the cutest.

And she's so HAPPY TO SEE HER GF

AND SHE DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABIUT THE HAIR

Kieu My being so cute about Fatou being in her room for the first time

And the first thing fatou does is just...plop on the bed

Fucking hope she isn't wearing any shoes smh

I love how Kieu My tries to talk about it right away. And they DID plan this meeting for talking about Friday. And she's being so honest.

And you can just see Fatou trying to concentrate on what Kieu My is saying, but she's so tired, and can't stay focused on this thing.

And Kieu My wanting to completely plan this out together. It's so cute. We love a perfectionist queen

Ngl, Fatou playing with Kieu My's clothes and ahem, stomach is really fucking adorable. But i wish she would've not done this in this situation?

And Kieu My being pissed about the diva behavior in her friend group lmao

Kieu My WANTS TO APOLOGIZE TO AVA

AND IT'S SO IMPORTANT TO HER TO GET THIS RIGHT

"Are you even listening?"-"Hm?" OOF

You can just see and feel Kieu My immediately shutting down and distancing herself.

And it doesn't help that Fatou gets immediately distracted by her phone

And Fatou...an apology would have been nice. And girl look at Kieu My, she doesn't really look like she wants to be touched rn.

And Kieu My is....pissed? And annoyed. And disappointed.

And Fatou knows she fucked up. But girl is just so tired. She searched for a fucking turtle and cleaned up the mess till three in the morning. And then she had a full school day, and work probably right after that.

Now, this next part is probably a lot more of an analysis/theory than little things i just stumble upon while watching the clip.

I think in the moment it’s so sad that Fatou isn’t opening up to anyone about her struggles. She has so many things that pressure her going on, and she isn’t telling anyone. I mean, it’s understandabe that she’s so fucking tired, girl is about to break down.

And for Kieu My it now feels a bit like in her past relationships? Like, I can imagine her feeling like Fatou is only there for her good sides.

From her point of view, Fatou didn’t listen to her, and just played (how does one say this) with her clothes and body. And after that, she wanted to do something easier than talking to Kieu My about this topic, which is really important to her (”And when i wasn’t party-Kieu My anymore, he didn’t want me.”). And till now it was mostly Kieu My who took the first steps in their relationship.

In conclusion, I’m scared that Kieu My will think, Fatou only wants her for her body and this perfect, fabricated image, if Fatou doesn’t tell her about all the stuff going on for her soon.

But I honestly still believe that those two will figure it out, and can work on it together. But the path there will probably not be easy. But I mean, we were all so positively surprised by how positively the last episode premiere went, so let’s have hope :)

#druck #Lube rambles #druck new gen #most of this has been said already i think #but i didn't wanna leave this one out #lets see how the premiere will go #kieutou

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neocityarchive · 5 years ago

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blind love | l.m.k.

— in which mark lee is so much more than just your best friend but you were too blind to realize it.

word count: 7.2k | warnings: light swearing | blind love - lola young |

a/n: i didnt mean for it to be this long but i hope you enjoy!!!

“Just friends,” Mark said, his voice still steady even in the growing tension of the moment. “That’s all you said we are, right?”

Your head dropped down to look at your hands, not knowing what to say. The overbearing guilt of rejecting his sudden confession was crushing your chest that it became painful to breathe.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” was all you could say. You forced yourself to meet his gaze through your already glassy eyes, wanting to let him know the sincerity of your words.

He smiled kindly, shaking his head. There was sadness in his eyes. And in all the years you two have known each other, you could tell how hard he was trying to hide it. “It’s okay. That’s all we’ll be.”

You bumped your head repeatedly against your study table in an attempt to rid yourself of the memory that’s constantly been playing in your head.

It was a Sunday which meant there were no classes, which meant the university was closed, which meant that you couldn’t even make an excuse to see your best friend Mark who somehow, after almost three years of friendship, suddenly decided that it was a good idea to tell you he loves you more than a friend should love a friend.

You couldn’t say it happened out of nowhere. He’s been saying he has something important to tell you for almost two weeks before the incident but every time you confront him about it, he always makes up some lame excuse to dodge. It took a lot of self-hate for yourself and a nice amount of his protective instinct to finally make him spit it out.

He came to your apartment that night, finding you barefaced, wearing a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies that you stole some time ago. From that he already knew you weren’t okay. You like wearing his stuff to seek some sort of comfort. Somehow, the smell of his clothes helps calm you down.

You were supposed to help him finish a report but you couldn’t concentrate after getting a below satisfactory grade on a major exam. College has done nothing but give you a shitload of insecurities lately and this just pushed you off the edge. The only thing that has been keeping you sane was the knowledge that you had someone who you can run to at the end of the day. Someone who is willing to listen to your rants and would do almost anything to cheer you up.

That day, however, none of Mark’s usual encouragement worked on you. He was getting frustrated hearing you downplay yourself because of a single exam. You started going on about how stupid you felt, how staying up all night to study did nothing but make you ugly. Mark countered every insult you threw at yourself, throwing in a few jokes here and there, all of which you ignored. But when you went on about how all of this made you unworthy of anything, how no one could possibly love you in this state, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” he snapped, cutting you off from your long self-deprecating speech.

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say that,” you whined, clearly missing the point.

Mark, on the other hand, was barely holding it all inside. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “No, idiot. I love you. Stop saying no one could love you, because I do. And not just because you’re my best friend.”

It wasn’t until you noticed his hands were quivering that you realized what he really meant. Looking back on it, you couldn’t help but hate yourself. You were sure it took a lot of his courage (and frustration) to come clean to you like that, and you couldn’t even take him seriously at first.

“Mark, no,” you remember telling him.

“I do. I hate that I do, but I do.” He looked away. “I love you and I know you’re feeling burdened right now, but you don’t have to say it back.”

A part of you broke that day. You hated rejecting people after having gone through several rejections yourself. It’s the worst feeling. You always wished there was a way you could always return people’s feelings just so no one would get hurt, but the universe just doesn’t work that way.

You muttered about a hundred sorries to which Mark replied a hundred ‘it’s okay’s. Maybe it was meant to make you feel better, but it just felt like your heart was getting ripped off your chest.

Mark didn’t stay long after that. You didn’t even get to help him with his report. He said sorry for suddenly dropping the L-word and you said sorry for not being able to say it back. He smiled sadly and it took your everything not to cry. He asked if he could hug you and you didn’t even answer. You just went straight into his arms, burying your head in his chest like you’ve done so many times before, breathing heavily to keep yourself from breaking down. And when the two of you pulled away, he insisted on being alone for a while. You said okay followed by another sorry.

You didn’t know “being alone for a while�� meant ignoring you for god knows how long. You see him at uni but he wouldn’t even meet your eye. Even when you share the same class, he would choose to sit as far from you as possible. Once, he entered a cafe you were in and upon seeing you inside, he immediately turned around and walked away.

He’s ignoring you and he isn’t even being subtle about it. Mark Lee could never be subtle about anything, not even his feelings. You really were just too blind to realize anything.

Even other people saw how he felt. People used to come up to you all the time and ask about your “boyfriend” Mark. Sure, you would blush, shy that people thought you’re in a relationship with your best friend. When you explain that you weren’t actually dating, you would get the same shocked reaction every time. One of your friends even said you acted more like a couple than most people in a relationship do. You always thought it was just because you and Mark were such good friends.

“Friends don’t hold hands in public,” you remember Renjun saying.

“We don’t hold hands. He just grabs me and drags me to places,” you said defensively.

“And they don’t hug each other and stare at each other’s eyes while talking about pizza,” Jaemin scoffed.

You just rolled your eyes at them. It never crossed your mind that maybe they were right. You and Mark have never acted like how friends should. Maybe it’s the reason why you’re in this mess after all.

You sighed to yourself. You miss him. You can’t even pretend that you don’t. He’s become such a huge part of your everyday life that you couldn’t just ignore the sudden empty space he left when he said he wanted to be alone. You know he needed time to be by himself. But a part of you keeps holding on to his promise that even after his confession, you two would still be friends. And friends text each other, right? So all your attempts at communication depended on just that.

Thursday, 5:31 PM

You: wanna go watch a movie? i’ll buy the tickets.

Mark: cant. i have an exam tomorrow. sorry :/ maybe next time?

You: oh. okay. goodluck on your exam :)

Friday, 2:21 AM

You: [photo] this is possibly the cutest cat photo i’ve seen in awhile

Mark: that’s cute but dogs are still cuter

You: … okay?

Mark: go to sleep, y/n

Friday, 12:03 PM

You: i know you dont have class rn. have lunch w me?

Mark: oh i already ate with jaemin. sorry!!

You: it’s okayyyy :>> i’ll see u later? it’s friday night sooo we can hang out.

Mark: idk the boys already asked me to go out tonight

You: oh okay have fun!

Saturday, 6:54 PM

You: maaaark

Mark: y/nnn

You: [types] i miss you kajdhfhdksjdh [deletes]

You: nothing haha wanna grab some coffee?

Saturday, 7:01 PM

You: nvm haha have a nice nighhhttt

Sunday, 10:21 PM

You: hey can we talk

Mark: ???

You: please?

Mark: ye what about?

You: you said we’d still be friends

Mark: lol aren’t we?

You: this isn’t how friends talk to each other. i miss having an actual conversation with you.

You: we dont even see each other anymore.

Mark: i literally reply more to u than i do to jaem wdym haha

You: wow fine okay

Mark: ?????

You: i guess i deserve that haha

Mark: im tired y/n. night.

You: :( nighttt

You checked your messages for the nth time, reading everything as if something was gonna miraculously change with the cold conversation thread. Your fingers have been hovering over the keypad, typing and deleting ‘i miss you’ and ‘talk to me’ for about a hundred times already.

You don’t get why you can’t just say it. What’s so wrong with telling your best friend you miss him? Why is it so hard to press send? Why are you suddenly so afraid of how he would reply or if he would even reply at all?

It was only 10:30 in the evening. You know for sure Mark is only lying about going to sleep. He never sleeps this early unless he really is tired. He does nothing on Sundays so he can’t possibly be tired. Sundays are usually just the two of you hanging out in his apartment or yours, just to watch movies or study together. So what did he do today?

“Stop thinking about him,” you grumbled to yourself. “It’s just Mark. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

But that’s not the point, a voice inside your head said. Just tell him you miss him.

You typed it again, ‘I miss you,’ but deleted it as soon as it was finished. Again.

You’ve spent everyday with Mark that it suddenly hurts to think he’s enjoying the time you usually spend together alone. It’s crazy how you can’t stop thinking about how his day went or if he’s okay or whether he’s eaten or not. You know how stubborn he can be. Sometimes, he’d get so engulfed in whatever he’s doing that he would accidentally skip meals unless you remind him otherwise.

“Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself. You figured you won’t ever be left at peace if you don’t do anything about whatever you’re feeling, so you decided to text Jaemin.

Sunday, 10:52 PM

You: jaeeem hi :)

Jaemin: y/n!!!!! hello :>

You: sorry for bothering you but have you talked to mark lately?

Jaemin: im talking to him rn haha why? you want me to ask him something?

You: not really hahaha how is he?

Jaemin: haha why not ask him yourself

You: he doesnt wanna talk to me lol pls just answer

Jaemin: he’s stubborn as always. he wont listen to me.

You: why, what’s he doing?

Jaemin: idk but it’s definitely not talking to you ksjdjkd

You: … very funny

Jaemin: sorry lmaooo he’s running on an hour or two of sleep everyday

You: jaemin!! why won’t you scold him?

Jaemin: we do! he just doesn’t listen. u know he only listens to you.

Jaemin: idk why you guys still arent together lmao bunch of idiots tbh

You: we’re just friends

Jaemin: rlly? oh btw mark hyung is looking for his save the bees shirt. did u see it anywhere?

You: yeah he left it here like two weeks ago when he slept over

Jaemin: LMAOOO DOESNT SOUND LIKE FRIENDS TO ME CHIEF

You: i fckingskjfhfn hate you

Jaemin: HJSJSHHDJD ok but seriously tho mark hyung is fine. just give him time, he’ll come around.

Jaemin: he misses you but u didnt hear it from me

Jaemin: ok bye he’s getting suspicious now lol

You: idk how you’re both an angel and the devil at the same time

You: anw thanks jaem. dont tell him i asked about him lol byeee

You sighed, putting your phone down in surrender. Your mind was more of a mess now than it was before you talked to Jaemin. You hate that he makes sense especially about the weird, more-than-friendly dynamics of your relationship with Mark. But more importantly, your head was beginning to be overfilled with worry.

Mark runs on barely two hours of sleep everyday. No wonder he always looks so out of it whenever you see him in the hallway. You wanted to call him, to tell him that he should sleep already, to remind him that he shouldn’t overwork himself, that doing just enough is okay. But you know he doesn’t want to talk to you. The cold replies and the ‘????’ were more than enough to tell you that.

Still, you figured it was worth a try sending him a little reminder. So you grabbed your phone once again and typed a message, revealing a little more of your emotions than you intended to. And before you could even think twice about it, you hit send.

Sunday, 11:04 PM

You: hey i know you’re still not asleep. dont worry, you dont have to reply to me. i just wanna tell you that you should take care of yourself. i know you. you’re stubborn and sometimes you won’t sleep or eat unless someone reminds you to so,, this is me reminding you haha. stop overworking yourself mark, please? you cant be sick cause i cant take care of you since you wont talk to me… lol jk. but seriously, get more rest (and talk to me,, hahah jk again unless u wanna ;)) please go to sleep now. goodnight. see you around i guess.

You stopped texting Mark after that. You wondered if he would find the initiative to talk to you first if you didn’t start the conversation. Now, two days have passed and your sleep reminder remains to be the last message on your conversation thread. You couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. You were hoping for at least a small thanks but didn’t get anything at all.

You were starting to get more and more frustrated as the days went by. It’s so unfair that you are slowly losing your best friend because of this. It’s unfair that you can’t even be mad at him because you just broke his heart. You wished there was any way you could have changed what happened, but the past remains to be written.

That afternoon, you passed by one of the cafes you and Mark always go to. You went inside, suddenly craving their special banana muffin which he introduced to you some months ago. The owner recognized you right away as you came up to the cashier.

“You’re not with your boyfriend today?” she asked.

You felt your heart skip a beat and not in a good way. It hurt. You figured there was no use in explaining since she probably won’t believe that Mark is not your boyfriend so you just smiled sadly and answered, “No.”

The lady somehow talked you into buying two muffins so you can bring one to your “boyfriend.” After handing her your payment, you realized maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Mark always brings you stuff whenever you’re mad or upset. He knows exactly what you’re craving for even before you knew you were craving for it. Why not try if it works on him?

As soon as you headed out the cafe, you whipped your phone out to text Jaemin, asking if he knew where Mark was. It’s Tuesday, his most free day of the week so he could be anywhere. Jaemin replied not after five minutes.

Jaemin: not sure but he mentioned something about the library??

You: okay thank you!

From that, you knew exactly where Mark is. There was a small patio-like spot beside the library that he likes going to. Not a lot of people utilize the place since the tables and chairs are almost always filled with dried fallen leaves from the surrounding trees but Mark likes the thought of being close to nature.

That day though, there were more people around the area than usual. It was lunchtime so most people were out of the classrooms. Still, it wasn’t hard spotting Mark. It has never been much of a challenge finding him in a crowd of people. You saw him as soon as he came into view, sitting by the table on the corner under one of the ginkgo trees. He had his laptop open and a box of food beside it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration one moment and then he was laughing the next.

You were about to make your way towards him but immediately stopped in your tracks when you realized he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t know who the girl was. You’ve seen her a lot of times in class and in the hallway. You even have a vague memory of Mark talking to her one time. But you never really bothered to learn her name. She had that soft, innocent look that goes so well with her shy smile. She had her hair tucked in her ears to show just enough of her pretty face. She was beautiful. Unconventionally but undeniably. But none of that mattered.

When she said something with a smirk and Mark let out his trademark laugh, nose scrunching, hand repeatedly hitting the table, shoulders shaking and all, it felt like something punched you in the stomach. He uttered something in reply and now both of them are clutching their sides for laughing too hard.

He looks happy, you thought, I should be, too.

But you aren’t. You continued watching their exchange, him showing her something on his laptop and both of them laughing once again. Your chest felt heavy, like something was sitting on it and now it hurts to breathe. You didn’t realize you’ve been clutching the plastic bag containing the muffin too hard until you felt the sting of nails digging on your palms. You knew you should look away but you couldn’t. You wanted to run towards him. You wanted to tell the girl to scooch over so you can sit beside Mark and give him his muffin.

This is pathetic. I should be happy for him, you said to yourself. But why am I not?

You wanted to be angry, to scream and say that it should be you he’s laughing like that with. To say that it’s you he should be spending his time with. You wanted to ask if he still feels the way he said he does about you. And if he does, then why this? But you remained glued to the ground.

You hated how you were being selfish. You rejected him, remember? So why do you expect him to follow your tails like an intoxicated mad dog? Why can’t you be happy at the possibility that he found someone that feels the same way he does? Why does it… hurt? It’s not supposed to. If you really are friends, then him being happy with someone after your rejection should make you happy as well. If you really are friends, then you shouldn’t be standing here looking stupid, watching them from afar, wishing he’s with you instead.

“What are you looking at?”

You jumped at the sudden disruption, almost dropping your muffins. “What the hell, Jaemin?!” you whined, finally looking away from Mark.

“Mark hyung and Mina?” he snorted.

So that’s her name. “No,” you lied, forcing yourself to take a step away, then another, then another.

“Are you jealous?” Jaemin teased. “Have you finally realized you’re also whipped for our hyung?”

“No,” you grumbled.

“Then why are you almost crying?”

You blinked. You didn’t even realize the tears pooling in your eyes. Why are you being like this? “Shut up. I’m not.”

Jaemin only shrugged. “Fine. Torture yourself, then.” He smirked. “By the way, Jeno and I are inviting people to our place this Friday after exams. Just some drinks and maybe karaoke, I don’t know. We all deserve a break from hell. Wanna come?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was too preoccupied with other things.

“Mark hyung is coming,” he said. “Maybe Mina too.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you said immediately, suddenly coming up with a decision.

The boy laughed. “You are jealous! God, I love it when you prove yourself wrong. You shouldn’t be though. You already know he likes you.”

“I’m not jealous! Stop it,” you whined, really wanting to cry this time. Everything is so frustrating and Jaemin is not being of any help. You wanted to go home and just wrap yourself in your blanket and maybe one of Mark’s hoodies.

“Then come to our place this Friday. It’s gonna be fun.” He grinned.

“Fine. Whatever. Just get away from me, you little shit,” you said, kicking him lightly in the butt.

You didn’t know if it was a lie or not but if Mark really is seeing someone now, you just didn’t like the idea of seeing them flirt with each other in front of your eyes. Even the thought of it makes you want to pull all your hair out. Is that considered jealousy? If so, why are you feeling it for someone who’s supposed to be just a friend?

Thursday came and you found yourself crying after realizing the shirt you’ve been wearing the whole day was Mark’s. No wonder he looked surprised seeing you in the hallway. He looked away immediately though, acting as if you weren’t there. It didn’t even cross your mind since you use this shirt quite a lot.

After calming yourself down, you put your playlist on shuffle and cried some more after Friends by Ed Sheeran started playing. You didn’t even realize how fitting the song was for your situation until now. Mark probably did.

You remembered him singing that song once. The two of you were just lounging in his apartment. He was playing his guitar while you pretended to study when in reality you were just looking at him. You watched as his fingers plucked and strummed the guitar strings while he softly mumbled lyrics, head bobbing to the tune. He’s good. Unsurprisingly, since he’s good at everything.

When he realized you were staring at him, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes, one side of his lips curling up into a smirk. “No, my friends won’t love me like you do,” he sang.

You looked away, your cheeks heating up almost immediately. It was hard to focus on your readings when he’s sitting right in front of you looking like that, singing like that. You sighed. He truly was never being subtle about how he felt.

After finishing the song, Mark put his guitar down and laid his head on your lap, not even bothering to ask if it’s okay. That’s how comfortable you were with each other.

“What are you doing?” You remember whining.

“Wake me up after 15 minutes,” he said, already closing his eyes. You took a photo of him that night. He’s cute when he’s asleep. Even cuter when you look at him up close.

Of course, you just had to search your camera roll to find the photo. When you did, it felt as if a storm was raging on your stomach and a gorilla was pounding on your chest. It never dawned to you just how much it hurts that he suddenly left you alone until that moment.

“Goddamn, I miss you so much,” you muttered, looking at his peaceful expression in the photo.

And then you cried some more. You feel lost.

All you wanted to do was curl up in his arms and inhale his scent and listen to how his day went (and maybe accidentally fall asleep together). It sucks because you really had no one else to turn to. The single person who has always been your safe place doesn’t want to talk to you and even if he did, you really wouldn’t know what to say. Perhaps friends really aren’t like that. The thought of everyone being right when they said that maybe you and Mark were never really just friends has never been stronger than it was tonight.

Still, you couldn’t be bothered to sort your feelings out.

He feels like home, you thought. It was the best way to explain the sense of comfort and safety and the feeling of being more than enough that he provides you. It’s the only thing you can think of when your mind drifts to how he is always the constant person that you run to at the end of the day. But friends can feel like home, too, right?

Not to this extent. Not really.

Friday. You found yourself aimlessly roaming around the neighborhood after your classes in the hopes of distracting yourself from your feelings or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be called. You wouldn’t have remembered Jaemin’s party if you didn’t happen to pass by their apartment building.

You stood in front of it for two solid minutes, contemplating whether to go or not.

Mark might be there, you thought. With everything that’s going on in your head and with all the mess happening in your chest, would it really be a good idea to see him? You thought maybe all these things you’re feeling are just a result of missing him. All these sadness and confusion might just be because you miss your best friend.

So you entered the building. You told yourself that you’ll try talking to him again this time, no matter how stubborn he’s going to be. And if it still doesn’t change anything, then you will take it as a sign to let him go. If not forever, then at least for now.

You reached the door to Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment. Even from the outside, the sound of the bass can already be heard. You wondered how long before the neighbors would file a complaint against them, but knowing Jaemin and Jeno, their neighbors are probably inside, partying with them right now.

Before entering, you looked down on your chest just to make sure you were wearing your own shirt and not Mark’s. It didn’t feel right wearing his stuff anymore. God, it really felt like you just broke up. Why is it like this?

You took a deep breath and opened the door. There were already a lot of people inside even if it was just 8 in the evening. Most of them, you know the faces of. You smiled to greet some and muttered a hi to others.

Renjun spotted you as soon as you came into the living room. “Y/N!” He grinned, handing you a cup of god knows what. “Jaemin said he invited you but we were all pretty sure you were gonna ghost us. But you didn’t!”

You laughed hesitantly. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Drink up. It’s a cocktail I made myself,” he said proudly, almost forcing the cup into your mouth.

You took a sip, figuring it won’t do any harm but you spat the liquid back to the cup as soon as it touched your tongue. “What the hell did you put in this?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just mixed in everything I could find. Thanks for trying it out though. I’ve been looking for a volunteer for five minutes already.”

You frowned. There were a lot of things you were unsure of at the moment but there is one thing that’s certain: you have weird friends. You were about to complain to Renjun when he plucked the cup from your grip and went on to find another victim, not even bothering to listen when you said you literally spat on the cup.

Mark didn’t seem to be anywhere. The apartment wasn’t that big so if he was here, it would be easy to spot him. Maybe he decided not to show up after knowing you were coming. And honestly, part of you was relieved. As much as you wanted to talk to him, you still didn’t know what to say.

I’m sorry I broke your heart, but I miss you so much and I did a lot of thinking and maybe we really shouldn’t be labeled as just friends but I don’t know if I love you, is that okay? That’s just stupid. This whole thing is stupid.

You wanted to leave. Parties have never really been your thing. You usually just go because Mark asked you to since he loves interacting with people. But you figured you needed some alcohol in your system, mainly as a distraction, but also to give you a boost of courage just in case. So you made your way to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone as much as possible.

You stopped in your tracks as you came to the kitchen. The sound of that laugh was all too familiar.

Great, you thought. Mark was there. And Mina was too. But so were Jeno and Jaemin who exchanged looks as soon as their eyes landed on you. They were all laughing about something before you came.

“You’re here!” Jaemin said a little too enthusiastically in a poor attempt to address the sudden increase of tension in the room.

“Hi,” you said, smiling sheepishly, purposefully avoiding Mark’s gaze which you could feel boring into you. “Just gonna get a drink.”

“Help yourself,” Jeno said. Jaemin smirked beside him.

The refrigerator was just beside Mark. Just great, you thought again. You walked towards it, desperately trying to ignore the four pairs of eyes following your every move.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, still not looking at your best friend.

Mark took a step sideways before opening the fridge for you. You muttered a quick thanks before grabbing the first bottle your hands landed on, not even bothering to check what it was. You really just wanted to get out of there. Maybe the talking to Mark plan was flawed from the beginning because you clearly can’t find the courage in you to face him now.

Beside you, Mark clicked his tongue. He was so close that you could smell his perfume mixed with a bit of alcohol. It made your knees weak.

He took the bottle from your hand and put it back before grabbing a different one and handing it to you. “The other one had vodka. Vodkas give you a headache, remember?” he said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Oh.” Your voice sounded small even to your own ears. Not gonna lie, you wanted to cry at that moment. “Thanks.”

You could hear Jaemin snickering behind you but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. You turned to everyone and said a quick goodbye before dashing out of the kitchen.

Your heart was beating hard and rapidly and not because you moved too fast. You didn’t know why but it hurt seeing Mark like that, like he was okay, like nothing changed with the two of you. It hurt knowing that even after everything, he still knows you the best.

You wanted to run. You wanted to disappear. But you couldn’t leave without passing by the kitchen. Somehow, you know someone in there would stop you. If not Mark, then definitely Jaemin. But you really wanted to be alone. So you resorted to the next best thing. You whipped your phone out and sent Jaemin a text.

You: thanks for inviting me to this party. now i feel like shit :D

Jaemin: IM SORRY BUT DONT LEAVE YET TF

You: i need to be alone and i cant leave without passing by the kitchen and seeing mark. so pls let me use your room for a while.

You: i wont do anything i promise. i just need to calm down.

Jaemin: fine but dont lock the door

You: okay thanks

The door to Jaemin’s room was at the other end of the apartment. You made your way through the noisy crowd, slipping from Renjun’s weird gimmicks when he tried to make you a victim once again, before finally reaching the quiet confines of Jaemin’s room.

The thin walls barely blocked the noise but at least there was no one else here. You sat at the edge of the bed and placed the beer bottle on the floor. You forgot you didn’t even manage to open it. So you just stared at your feet, trying to catch your breath even if you didn’t do anything. That heavy feeling on your chest was back again. It was now associated with being in Mark’s presence.

You started counting to ten to calm yourself down before burying your face on your palms, breaking down into sobs as soon as your forehead came in contact with your fingers. “God, why can’t I just…” you cried, “... admit it to myself already?”

You wanted to thrash around in the bed in frustration but you thought Jaemin didn’t deserve such a mess so you settled with getting up and lightly banging your head against the door. It’s a bad habit you do when you feel annoyed or frustrated. Mark has always been reminding you to stop before you hurt yourself.

Mark. Again. You groaned, hitting your head a little harder this time.

Someone knocked on the door making you stop. You took a step back, thinking you just imagined it. But there it was again.

“Someone’s here,” you said, trying to hide the sound of your voice breaking.

“I know. Can I come in?” It was Mark. There was no question.

Your heart started pounding on your chest once again. You wanted to tell him to go away but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so.

He took your silence as a yes. He swung the door slightly and poked his head through the small opening. Your hands immediately flew to your face to hide the fact that you’ve been crying.

“You know, I came in here because I didn’t wanna see you when I pass by the kitchen if I leave then you come here making me look like a clown,” you said, your voice muffled by your hands.

Mark chuckled softly. “Why didn’t you wanna see me?”

You didn’t reply. Your face felt hot, not just because of the tears that just won’t stop falling but also because all the blood has come rushing to your cheeks.

Mark grabbed both your wrists and gently lowered your hands down, trying to see your face, but your head bent down as soon as it wasn’t covered. “Y/N, look at me,” he said, hands still on your wrists.

“No.”

“Are you crying?” The idiot crouched down to have a glimpse of your face making you whine and cover your face again. “Last I checked, I should be the one looking brokenhearted around here.”

“God I hate you,” you mumbled. “You ignored me for nearly four weeks and you come in here just to make fun of me.”

He let out an empty laugh. “Well, you did break my heart so…”

At that, you removed your hands from your face to look at him. You were going to say sorry but Mark had that smug look on his face that made you want to punch him. It was almost convincing if you weren’t so good at reading the real emotions in his eyes. His expression softened upon finally seeing you properly.

He looked away, not being able to hold your gaze either. That just confirmed how hard he was trying to keep up with the exterior he was showing everyone.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking.

He sighed. “I told you. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” you cried. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t realize how easy it was to misread what we had because let’s face it, we don’t act like ‘just friends.’ I’m sorry because I was too blind to see how you felt even when you weren’t really trying to hide it. I’m sorry because even though I rejected you, I was so selfish that I still wanted to keep you for myself without realizing that you probably needed to be away from me to move on. I’m sorry because…” you swallowed.

Mark was just looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation of what you were going to say next. You missed him. You missed that cute face of his. You missed being in his presence. You missed his voice and his laugh and how he loves teasing you even if he probably feels like shit inside. You missed everything. Four weeks have been too long without each other. Four weeks is too long without your best friend. Four weeks is too long without your home. And that’s when you realized…

“... I can’t let you go. And I might be too late, but I’m sorry that I only just realized why.”

“Why?” he asked.

It was a simple question. Why? Yet it managed to carve out every single feeling you’ve ever felt for this boy. Every little moment he made you laugh. Every small heartbreak you get when he fails to keep his tiny promises. Every single night you ‘accidentally’ fell asleep next to each other. Every ounce of fulfillment you get when you finally convince him to sleep after a long day. Every goodnight. Every good morning. Everything.

“I love you,” you said. It sounded almost like an exhale.

For a moment, Mark didn’t reply. Your head immediately started swarming with unwelcomed thoughts. Maybe you were too late. You almost forgot about Mina who he seems to be having an excellent time with. Maybe he managed to move on within those four weeks. It’s possible, right? You had your chance and you missed it.

Finally, Mark let out a laugh, his head falling down to look at the floor. “I told you you didn’t have to say it back,” he said, voice soft.

You shook your head. “I’m not saying it because you said it first,” you said. “I realize this might be the worst timing but I just thought you should know you weren’t the only one being stupid enough to fall for their best friend. I was just too dumb to realize that that’s what it was.”

“Why would it be the worst timing?” He frowned.

You felt like crying again. You really wish you had some alcohol in your system right now. Why is this whole confession thing taking so long? “‘Cause you’re dating Mina? Or trying to. I don’t know. I tried not keeping tabs on you because our friends are assholes who wouldn’t stop teasing me. She’s pretty, by the way. You two look good together.”

Mark laughed again. It was raw and real this time, and god, the way your chest tightened in endearment at the sound was so pure. “You thought me and Mina are dating?”

“Aren’t you? I’ve seen you guys together a lot.” Well, once. But you tend to overestimate things.

“No!” He snorted. “Jaemin and I are trying to get her and Jeno together. If anything, she made me realize that we definitely aren’t just friends.”

“Really?” Now you just feel stupid. But what else is new? It’s all you’ve been feeling lately. Come to think of it, Mark and Mina didn’t even come close to how you two act with each other.

“Really,” he said. “Friends don’t stay at each other’s place and cuddle with each other just to fall asleep, Y/N. Besides, I said I love you, didn’t I? Did you really think that’s just gonna go away that quickly?”

“Mark, I can’t even sort my feelings out. How am I supposed to figure out how yours work?” You sighed.

“Fine. Just to be clear, I still love you. Even if you don’t, I love you,” he said, taking both your hands and placing it on his shoulder before putting his on your waist.

“But I do.”

“Say it then.”

“I love you. Even if you’re the dorkiest person I know, I love you.” Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. You’ve run your hands through his hair so many times before. You wondered why it never crossed your mind that you liked doing it not because his hair is soft but because you were sucker for the domestic feeling of it.

Mark couldn’t stop himself from smiling that he had to bury his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m not used to this, sorry.”

“Me neither,” you laughed.

When he finally composed himself, he pulled away just enough to look at you. All those times you’ve stood this close before does not even compare to how it’s like right now. This is the perfect mix of feeling new but familiar.

“You have no idea how many mornings I fought the urge to kiss you whenever we wake up next to each other,” he said in a soft voice.

“Well, nothing’s stopping you know, is there?” you muttered, eyes fluttering to his lips.

You pulled Mark down by the neck as he pulled you closer to him, your lips finally connecting. The idea of kissing him isn’t new to you. There were so many times before that you’ve found yourself inches away from his face and slamming your lips together wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. But this is the first you actually kissed him yet he felt so familiar that you were almost sure you’ve done this a million times before. His lips were soft against yours that it made you weak in the knees. If he weren’t holding onto you like he was, you probably would’ve crumpled already.

The two of you pulled away, breathless.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That didn’t even come close to how I imagined it would feel like.”

You laughed. “This whole night didn’t come close to how I imagined it would be like. I thought you were gonna keep on ignoring me. And honestly, I wouldn’t know how to cope anymore because I really, really miss you already. So thanks for saving me.”

“Stop making me blush. I don’t know how I can possibly love you more than this.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. This was only one of the very few times that the reality went better than your expectations. But then again, maybe you and Mark have always been meant to happen. It was happening even before you realized it was. And now that you finally managed to sort how you both felt, there was no more wasting chances.

“Do I still have to ask you to be my girlfriend?” he asked.

“We’ve literally slept in the same bed so many times. I’d be more surprised if we’re not dating already,” you joked.

Mark grinned. “You’re literally the only one who didn’t realize that until today, but it’s okay, I still love you.”

You laughed. “Wanna go outside and pretend we didn’t make up? I’m 100% sure Jaemin betted on us.”

“I worry how your mind works sometimes, Y/N,” Mark said with a frown before kissing you on the forehead. “But let’s do it.”

You smiled. You’ve said it a lot but you really missed this proximity. You missed being able to hug him whenever you want, and now you can kiss him whenever you want too. You wanted to say you could get used to this, but the thing is… you already are.

#y/n is a clown here read at your own risk #BUT PLS ENJOY CAUSE I DID #dhjdkjfhdfk i should stop writing about mark #nct au #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee #nct mark au #nct prompts #nct blurbs #soft nct hours #sad nct hours #nct fluff au #nct angst au #nct dream au #nct 127 au

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maybeimamuppet · 4 years ago

Text

the best medicine

Cady is very worried. It’s almost noon and Janis still hasn’t answered her good morning message. She’s trying to calm herself; Janis is renowned for being a late sleeper, especially on weekends. But she wasn’t in school yesterday, and they haven’t spoken or even texted since Thursday night. Something must be wrong.

She decides to start doing some math homework to distract herself from her anxiety, pulling out her textbook and grabbing a pencil from the cup on her desk. She’s working on her fifth problem when her phone finally pings.

Jellybean: good morning butterfly

Jellybean: sorry it took me so long to answer i’ve been asleep all day

Caddy Cakes: It’s fine, darling. Are you okay??

Jellybean: i’m not great

Caddy Cakes: What’s wrong?? :(((

Jellybean: i’m sick. that’s why i didn’t come in yesterday 📷

Jellybean: doc says it’s strep. had to get swabbed

Caddy Cakes: Oh no, poor Jellybean 📷

Caddy Cakes: How long have you been taking antibiotics?

Jellybean: uh since yesterday morning i think ?? why ?

Caddy Cakes: If you’ve been taking them for more than 24 hours you’re not contagious anymore. Do you want me to come take care of you?

Jellybean: u don’t have to do that babes. i’m all gross rn

Caddy Cakes: I don’t care, lovey. I picked up lion crap as my daily chore for eight years, I can handle a sick girlfriend. I wanna take care of you 🥺

Jellybean: if u really want to, cads. my mom and jules are out of town, there’s a key under the ceramic frog in the garden

Caddy Cakes: I’ll be there in fifteen 📷️mwah! 📷

Cady puts down her pencil and closes her book, heading downstairs and grabbing everything she might need to help her sick girl. Two different painkillers, the recipe for the super-awesome-cure-all-wonder soup her family always makes whenever illness hits, some medicinal African herbs to make tea with, and some soothing lozenges for sore throats. That should be everything.

Once she grabs her phone, jacket, and charger, she takes her bike from the garage, since her parents took the car to some convention thing. She texts them to let them know where she’s going and heads out.

————-

She’s so distracted worrying about Janis she doesn’t even notice where she is until she arrives at Janis’ place, hiding her bike around the side of the house and taking the key from the frog.

She heads up to Janis’ bedroom, finding her in the dark, huddled under several blankets, and with Pancakes resting protectively at the foot of her bed. Janis looks half-dead, her skin is pale and flushed pink with the fever, and her eyes are glassy and fogged over. She’s clammy and burning hot to the touch, and clearly in a great deal of pain.

“Oh, mpenzi,” Cady breathes. “My poor love. How long have you been feeling so bad?”

“It hit me on Thursday when I went to bed. I woke up yesterday and my throat felt like it had shards of glass in it,” Janis croaks out a whisper.

“You poor thing,” Cady strokes a hand through her sweaty hair, Janis leaning into her cool touch. “Have you taken your antibiotics yet today?”

Janis shakes her head. “Haven’t had enough energy to get water,” she explains.

“Shh, Jellybean, don’t try to talk, you’ll just hurt yourself more. I’m guessing you haven’t had breakfast either?” Janis shakes her head again, wincing at the mere idea of swallowing anything. “I know, darling, but you still need to eat. I’ll make something that won’t hurt too bad, okay? I’ll be right back.” She tucks Janis in a little tighter and heads down to the kitchen.

The Sarkisians don’t have a lot in their fridge, but enough that Cady can scrape up a decent breakfast. She makes some quick scrambled eggs and grabs a banana, those are both healthy and easy to swallow. Pancakes hasn’t been fed either, so she fills his bowl with some food for him to find before she fills a cup with cold water and heads back up to her love.

Janis is now lying on top of all of her covers, the fever changing her temperature every minute. “Here, mpendwa. The other pills are just ibuprofen, it’ll bring your fever down and help with the pain,” Cady says as she pours out one of Janis’ antibiotic pills and some painkillers.

Janis swallows everything obediently, grimacing at the sensation in her throat when they go down. “My poor sickie,” Cady says sadly, handing Janis the plate of breakfast. She must be totally miserable, she would usually protest absolutely everything happening. Janis hates feeling useless. “Can I draw you a bath, Jellybean? It might help your temperature. It’d make you feel less gross, too.”

Janis nods happily, excited at the idea of a comforting soak. She takes a small bite of her eggs, wincing again as she swallows. Cady kisses her burning forehead gently and heads to the bathroom, spying a bottle of lavender bubble bath. She turns the tap, filling the tub with lukewarm water. If it’s too hot, Janis’ temperature will go too high, but if it’s too cold it will just be uncomfortable for her. She uses entirely too much bubble soap, causing a large wall of foam to rise above the water level. Oh well, Janis loves lavender anyway.

Janis is just finishing her meal as Cady heads back to her bedroom, nibbling slowly at her banana. “It’s ready whenever you are, Jay. Do you want me to stay with you or wait in here?” Janis points to herself. “Okay. Has the medicine started working yet?”

Janis nods, standing slowly and throwing her banana peel away. She tries to walk over to where Cady is waiting by the door, but her knees buckle just before she can make it. Cady lunges to catch her before she hits the ground, pulling her back upright again. “Hate this,” Janis grumbles weakly.

“I know, my love. You’ll feel better once those antibiotics actually start working, I promise. Um, I put in a little too much soap,” Cady mutters once she’s managed to half-drag Janis to the bathroom. Janis chuckles weakly at the tower of bubbles, slowly stripping off her clothes and stepping in.

Cady scoops some of the foam and rests it on top of Janis’ head, giving her a bubble hat. “You’re so cute,” she teases. Janis just huffs, pouting and crossing her arms under the water. “Yes, I know, you’re my tough punk protector. But you’re also adorable.”

Janis shoots her a look that says “I can live with that, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Let me go grab you a towel and some clothes to change into and then I’ll wash your hair, I know you love that. Try not to drown,” Cady jokes, heading back towards Janis’ room. She folds back the blankets to allow the sheets to air before she grabs some comfy shorts and fuzzy socks, a thin tank top, and a hoodie to go over it from her dresser.

She bursts out laughing when she comes back, finding her girlfriend with the bubbles still on top of her head sunk down into the tub so that only her eyes and nose peek out from the mound of foam. “Alright, sit up for me, lovely.”

Janis emerges from the bubbles slowly, as Cady lathers her hands up with Janis’ signature apple shampoo. Once she starts massaging it into Janis’ dark roots, her eyes flutter shut and she gives a contented purr. “You’re just like Pancakes. You both love having your heads scratched.”

“He doesn’t like baths,” Janis says quietly. “And he’s a little bitch.”

“Janis! He’s your son, don’t be mean. He was guarding you when I got here,” Cady chides jokingly.

“He bit my toes! I was napping!” Janis insists hoarsely.

“Okay, that was mean of him. Look up and close your eyes,” Cady says, tipping her chin up and scooping water to rinse the soap out of her hair. Janis gives a pleased shudder at the warmth cascading over her head.

She goes for the conditioner next, squeezing out a little more than she needs and warming it in her hands before stroking it through the blonde ends of her girlfriend’s hair. She works it up from the bottom slowly, the excess giving her a reason to massage Janis’ scalp again. Anything to make her feel a little better.

Once that’s done, Janis lowers herself back into the cooling water, exhausted just from holding herself upright for so long. Cady gives her a moment to rest, telling her some stories of things she missed during school the day before.

“Did you know the way the football team hazes new people is with a taser?” Cady asks, prompting Janis to pop an eye open curiously. “One of the guys who sits next to me in sociology was talking about it. One of the other seniors has one and they tase all the freshmen on the ass when they first join the team.”

They both start giggling at that, Janis in particular getting a vindictive joy imagining the same jocks who used to shove her in lockers getting their asses shocked.

“And obviously your natural instinct is to move away from it, and he said the guy with the taser just kind of follows them with it,” Cady says, making them both laugh harder. “Like, they keep leaning or running away and he just goes with them.”

“That’s great,” Janis whispers. She pauses and then says, “I’m cold.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Cady asks. “Or do you want to get out?”

Janis nodded at the first bit and points to her once she finishes speaking. All she really wants is to be held. Cady goes quickly to fetch another towel for herself, coming back and taking her clothes off. She ties her hair up so it won’t get wet and slides into the tub behind her.

“Ooh, it is cold in here now,” Cady says quickly, adding just a touch more hot water to boost the temperature back up. Janis leans back against her and turns her head to tuck her face into her neck, inhaling her comforting scent of rosewater perfume. “Is this better?”

Janis just nods, trying to relax and ignore the burning in her throat. “Another story?” she whispers quietly, glad she’s so close to her girlfriend’s ear and doesn’t have to strain her voice.

“Sure, Jellybean. Let me think... did I ever tell you about the time a lion broke into my tent?” Cady asks, running her fingers through Janis’ wet hair and gently separating a few tangles. Janis shakes her head. “I was nine, I think. Some new cubs had just been born on the reserve and I got to help with the newborns every now and again. One got really attached to me, followed me everywhere like a little puppy. She was kind of the closest I could get to a pet.”

Janis looks very interested in the story. She always does, she loves Cady’s Kenya tales.

“Anyway, one night I was asleep and I remember being a lot warmer than usual, like I had an extra blanket or something, and I couldn’t move as much in my cot. I woke up in the morning cuddling this baby lion. She’d managed to hook the zipper on one of her teeth to get the flap open and just plopped herself right in my arms. I was lucky her mom didn’t eat me. They’re very protective, but she was just laying outside waiting for the cub,” Cady giggles at the memory.

“That’s cute. What was her name?” Janis whispers.

“Louise. My dad named them. They were supposed to be named Lewis and Clark because they were the first ones that would be living in a new area of the reserve, like the first explorers. But they turned out to both be female, so we called them Louise and Clarke instead,” Cady says. “I miss them. I think those two were my favorite.”

“You’ll have to introduce me someday,” Janis mumbles sleepily. “Can we get out now please? I’m cold again.”

“Okay, Jay. Here,” Cady hands her the cushy towel and pulls the drain in the tub, helping her to stand. “Your clothes are here.”

She dries herself off quickly and tugs her old clothes back on, Janis trudging through her aches and fatigue to dry herself and pull on her clean clothes. Once she manages, Cady leads them back to the bedroom, preemptively taking a hold of her girlfriend so she doesn’t fall over again.

“Do you want lunch, Jayjay?” Cady asks, wrapping a towel around Janis’ head so her hair doesn’t get her clothes wet. Janis shakes her head, popping one of the lozenges Cady brought into her mouth before flopping back down on her bed. “Nothing? You have mac and cheese.”

Janis pokes her head up at that, apparently having reconsidered. She hadn’t eaten at all yesterday, so she’s actually quite hungry, despite the pain in her throat. “Okay, take your temperature while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a minute.”

————

Pancakes follows her back to the kitchen, and Cady gives him one of his ‘diet’ treats and some pets for helping to take care of Janis. “Good boy. But stop biting Janis’ toes, you little perv. She’s sick.”

She decides to make the tea with the herbs she brought to go with their lunch. Janis isn’t a big fan of tea unless it’s super fruity, so she adds a lot of milk and sugar to the mug to cover some of the earthy flavor. She also adds honey, having to psych herself into grabbing the bottle and squeezing the sticky stuff into the mug, grimacing at the goo on the bottle and washing her hands quickly afterwards.

Janis was apparently waiting for her the whole time she was cooking, lying on her bed watching the door with her sad brown eyes. “I love you,” she croaks when Cady comes back in.

“I love you too, my bluejay. What was your temperature?” Cady hands her the warm bowl and rests the mug on her nightstand. Janis shows her the thermometer, the little screen glowing yellow and showing 99.0. “It’s gone down a little, the bath must have helped.”

Janis reaches for the mug, taking a cautious sip of the warm tea.

“Good?” Cady asks, coming to sit behind her with a hairbrush and some hair ties. Janis nods.

“You put honey in it?” She whispers, sounding a bit pained. “Good job.” Cady struggles with certain textures to the point of nearly fearing them, honey being the worst. Imagining touching honey gives her almost the same reaction as imagining watching someone break a bone.

“I did. You owe me for that,” Cady teases jokingly, gently brushing out Janis’ damp hair and twisting it back into two Dutch braids, slightly challenged by her side shave but managing regardless. “Now your hair will be all curly like mine.”

Janis touches one of the braids, playing with the elastic at the bottom. She points to her desk, where Cady sees a notebook resting. She goes to grab it and a pen; Janis’ throat must be hurting too much to speak again.

“When did you learn how to braid like this?” Janis writes.

“I did it a lot in Kenya, and Damian helped me practice and taught me new stuff. He lets me practice on a wig he has. It’s fun,” Cady explains. Janis gives a nod of understanding. Cady realizes something after a second. “Hey, do you want to learn some more sign language? Now is kind of a perfect time.”

Another nod. “Okay, write down something you need or want and I’ll show you the sign for it.”

Janis writes, “Snuggles?” and blinks at her hopefully.

“Aww. Of course, mpenzi. That looks like this, by the way,” Cady says, making a sort of peace sign with her first two fingers bent back, resting it on the back of her other hand. Janis copies the motion, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Yeah, just bend your wrist back a little more. There! Okay, you can take some more medicine and come here.”

Janis swallows a few tylenol with what’s left of her tea before letting Cady pull her in. Cady lies on her back, pulling Janis to rest on top of her with her head on her shoulder and face tucked into her neck. “Comfy?”

Janis nods. “Will you read to me?” She mumbles shyly.

“Sure, my love. Which one?”

Janis leans over to grab Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children from her nightstand before cuddling back into her. Cady kicks the blanket up over them with her feet, tugging it tightly around her girlfriend’s shoulders as she opens the book.

“I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.” Cady reads, Janis listening intently even though she’s read it several times before.

Cady kisses her still-warm forehead gently before continuing. By the time Jacob winds up in Wales, Janis’ breathing evens out and she can hear a faint whistling sound with every breath. She dog-ears the page (knowing that Janis is very pro-dog earing) and continues reading silently to herself as she eats her own lunch; it’s an interesting story. Once the light from the setting sun just barely starts stealing in through the window, Cady decides to get started making the soup.

She very delicately shifts Janis off of her and tucks her in again, Janis grumbling crankily in her sleep for a second at the removal of cuddles. Cady leans in and pecks her nose before she goes, giggling quietly as it crinkles like a bunny’s.

She pads down to the kitchen quietly to work on the soup, tiptoeing so as not to wake Janis. The Heron’s super-awesome-cure-all-wonder soup is actually just chicken noodle soup, but a really delicious homemade variety with some extra spices. Cady is lucky Juliana likes to cook, they have everything she needs except the chicken and vegetables.

She decides to check with Damian first, he lives closer than the grocery store is and she doesn’t want to leave Janis alone for too long.

africabytoto: Hey Damian, do you happen to have any chicken and carrots and celery at your place? Janis is sick and I wanna make her some soup 📷 all she has is dino nuggets and frozen peas

sashafierce: Aww poor Jan

sashafierce: Let me check. What did she catch?

africabytoto: Strep throat. She’s miserable, I hate to see her like this 📷

sashafierce: She got strep all the time when we were kids, she hasn’t had it in a while. Poor thing :(

sashafierce: You’re in luck little slice, we do indeed have your poultry and veggies

africabytoto: Oh yay thank you!!!!!! I’ll be over soon, I just need to write her a note in case she wakes up

sashafierce: Sounds good :))))

Cady scrawls “Went to grab some ingredients for your dinner, be back soon. Text if you need anything, love C xx” on a post it note and sticks it to Janis’ bedside table, kissing her forehead gently. She feels a little cooler now, so the medicine must have finally kicked in again.

She grabs her bike from and heads over to Damian’s house, finding him waiting for her on the porch with a bag of goodies. He stands from his chair when he sees her, coming to wrap her in a hug.

“How is she?”

“She’ll be okay. She’s really weak right now and still in a lot of pain, but she should be feeling a lot better by tomorrow,” Cady answers, peeking into the bag. Ooh, ice cream.

“Poor Jan. She got strep all the time when we were little. Turns out she just had giant tonsils, she had them removed the day after her mom finally took her to a specialist in second grade. She hasn’t gotten it since, until now,” Damian explains, letting Cady go.

“I hate seeing her like this. She’s so tired and weak. But she is extra cuddly today, that’s been nice,” Cady says sadly.

“She always is when she’s sick. The only thing that makes her feel any better is being held, and then she pretends like it never happened once she’s better. She has to ‘maintain her image’.” Damian says, doing air quotes at the end.

“Sounds like her,” Cady giggles. Janis’ punk image was checked at the door when they got together, but she still clings to it desperately. “I should get back before too much longer. Thank you for this, I owe you one.”

“No you don’t, just tell her I said to get better and give her a hug for me. See you on Monday, Cads.” Damian says as he hugs her one more time and hands her the bag, heading back into his house.

————

Once Cady has pedaled back to Janis’ house, she heads up to her bedroom to check if she’s woken up yet.

Turns out she hasn’t, but she’s tossed her covers away and is spooning poor Pancakes, who looks like he’s just barely tolerating the affection. Cady goes to give him some scritches when she spots the tip of his tail flicking in annoyance, trying to coax him to stay.

She pecks Janis on the forehead again, frowning at the heat she feels. She scraps the note she wrote now that she’s returned, writing a new one explaining that she’s downstairs if Janis wakes up and needs something.

She decides to do the dishes first, scrubbing out the plates and cups as well as the pan and pot she’s used so far today. She probably should have done it earlier, but Janis needed her more.

Once that’s handled, she starts prepping the chicken and veggies, cutting the vegetables into bite-sized chunks and seasoning everything with the various spices. It’s designed to have enough flavor to taste even through a stuffy nose, so it takes a lot of seasoning.

She seasons the chicken broth as well, adding in the noodles and vegetables to boil. Pancakes comes trotting down the stairs once she puts the chicken into a pan to start cooking, licking his fur back into place after Janis’ rather aggressive cuddle session.

“Hi Pancakes, did Janis finally let you go?” Cady asks, checking the time on the microwave. “It’s your dinner time, too, let’s get you fed. Not that you need it, chunky.”

She picks up his bowl and scoops some of his food out of the can, giggling as he brushes against her legs and purrs very loudly. “I’m going as fast as I can, calm down.”

He dives in once she puts his bowl back down, munching happily on his salmon and turkey paté. Gross.

Cady cuts up the now-cooked chicken into small chunks, adding it to the pot and giving everything a stir. Pancakes hops up on the counter next to the stove once he’s finished his meal, sniffing curiously at the steam coming from the pot.

“Get down, young man. You had your dinner, this is for Janis,” Cady scolds jokingly, scooping him off the counter and back onto the ground. “I’d give you some, but the spices aren’t good for your tummy.”

She ladles the soup into two bowls once it’s finished, cleaning the dishes she used right away since Janis is still asleep. She finds a tray in one of the cabinets, grabbing it so she doesn’t have to carry everything up in her hands.

The soup is warm, so Cady gets some apple juice from the fridge so Janis can have something cold to go with it. She makes extra sure that Pancakes isn’t around her feet before picking the tray up and heading back up to her girlfriend.

Janis is still asleep, on her back now and shivering slightly. Cady frowns, resting the tray on her dresser and heading to wake her. She brushes her thumb against Janis’ cheek gently, leaning down to kiss her forehead a few times. Janis’ eyes flutter open at the attention, and she gives a pained sigh.

“Hi, lovey. How are you feeling?” Cady asks gently, handing her the thermometer to check her fever. Janis gives her the saddest look and a thumbs down, obediently sticking the thermometer under her tongue. “Worse than earlier?”

Janis nods as the thermometer beeps, pulling it out as it blinks red at her. 102 degrees. Cady frowns at it before shutting it off and putting it back on Janis’ nightstand.

“I made you soup, it’s my family’s secret recipe,” Cady says quietly, as Janis seems to be showing signs of a headache. Janis perks up slightly at the mention of soup, looking around for it. Cady goes to grab the tray, settling in next to her and taking her own bowl.

“This is good. I’ve never had homemade soup,” Janis whispers hoarsely.

“Never?”

Janis shakes her head. “I always got the canned stuff.”

“Well now you have me. I’ll make you soup whenever you need it,” Cady says, leaning over to peck Janis’ forehead. “You should take your hoodie off. You’re burning up, my love.”

“I’m freezing,” Janis responds in her notebook, having leaned over to grab it off the nightstand.

“Freezing looks like this, in sign,” Cady says, holding both hands out in front of her and curling her fingers slightly at the knuckles. “The soup will help warm you up, you’re going to cook yourself if you keep your shirt on.”

Janis pouts but pulls it off, being careful not to knock her bowl. Cady finishes hers and leaves to go get a cool cloth. It’s still too early for Janis to have another dose of medicine, so she’ll have to bring her temperature down a bit the old fashioned way.

Janis has finished her dinner by the time she comes back, sipping carefully at the juice and wincing slightly with every swallow. She perks up when she sees Cady come back, finishing off the glass and resting it back on the tray.

Janis does the sign for snuggles again, blinking sadly at her. Damian did say it’s practically all that helps.

“Let me go clean these dishes, and then I’ll come back and cuddle you, I promise. Rest this on the back of your neck,” Cady says, handing her the damp cloth. Janis takes it and stands, the soup having given her just enough strength to get herself to the bathroom.

Cady takes everything back down and rushes through scrubbing them clean, leaving them to dry in the rack instead of doing it by hand before hurrying back upstairs. Janis has returned by then, looking so small curled up under her blankets.

Cady crawls in next to her, and Janis shifts to sit on her lap and cuddle into her shoulder. Cady rubs her slightly sweaty back gently, leaning down to kiss her cheek and adjust the cloth on her neck.

They sit there for a while in peaceful silence, until Cady feels tears soak into her shirt and hears a quiet sniffle. “Oh, Jellybean, what’s wrong?” She asks sadly, holding her girl closer.

“Don’t feel good. Hurts,” Janis whines hoarsely, letting out a whimper of pain. Janis cries a fair amount, but almost never from physical pain. She must be feeling miserable.

“Oh, mpendwa, I’m sorry. I wish I could do more for you,” Cady says sadly. “My poor love.”

“Medicine?” Janis asks quietly with another whimper.

“You can’t take any more yet, it’s not safe. Just a little longer,” Cady tries to comfort gently. Janis chokes out a sob at finding out she can’t take anything more yet, and has to continue dealing with the pain on her own.

“Please?” She begs.

“I’m sorry, Jellybean. You’ll get sicker if you take more. Shh, lovey, you’ll make yourself feel worse if you cry, shh.” Cady squeezes her tighter, rubbing her back again. “Damian gave me some ice cream for you when I went to get the stuff to make your soup, would that help?”

“What kind?” Janis asks tearfully.

“That really good caramel stuff you like,” Cady answers, wiping her tears gently. “Do you want me to go get it?”

Janis thinks for a second, wanting the ice cream to help her pain but not wanting her Caddy to go. She nods after a minute, scooting off her lap with a sniffle. “Hurry back?” She whispers, blinking her watery brown eyes pitifully at Cady.

“Always, my love. I’ll be right back,” Cady insists, kissing her red cheeks gently and leaving again.

True to her word, she comes rushing back in no more than forty-five seconds later, brandishing a pint of non-dairy ice cream and a spoon. She sits down again, pulling Janis back into her lap and opening the frozen treat. Desperate to do what little she can to help her girlfriend, Cady scoops some onto the spoon and holds it in front of Janis’ lips.

A testament to her illness, Janis accepts the spoon feeding without complaint. “You’re really feeling sick, hm? You almost never let me feed you,” Cady says, getting her another bite.

Janis just nods and nuzzles into her, opening her mouth again. She’s exhausted, it’s nice not having to exert herself. They continue this for a while, until about a quarter of the pint is gone and Janis puts the lid back on it gently.

“Did the cold help at all?” Cady asks, adjusting her grip on her as she leans to put the ice cream down. Janis nods and holds up her fingers in a pinch sign, signaling that it helped a little. “Good.”

Janis shuts her eyes and tries to rest as best she can, held securely in her girlfriend’s arms. Cady starts rubbing her back again and gently humming a lullaby, something Janis doesn’t quite recognize. She just cuddles in closer, nuzzling into Cady’s neck. She can’t quite fall asleep because her throat and head hurt so badly, but she gets close and rests there quietly for a while.

Cady kisses her forehead softly after about a half hour, telling her she can have more medicine now. She heads to fill up a glass with water and put the ice cream back in the freezer, handing Janis another dose of ibuprofen and another of her antibiotic pills once she comes back. Janis takes them thankfully, immediately swallowing them all down.

“I’m amazed you can swallow those with a throat infection, they’re absolutely massive,” Cady says, shocked at the size of the antibiotics. “I never understood that. Surely they should be small and easy for people to take.”

Janis nods her agreement, huddling under her blankets in a desperate search for warmth. “Stay over?” She asks pitifully.

“If you want, my love. Let me tell my parents and borrow some pjs,” Cady says, texting her parents that Janis is still very sick and needs her to stay, before grabbing a large t-shirt and some thin lounge pants from Janis’ dresser and changing quickly. She comes back once that’s done, pulling Janis back against her chest and kissing her forehead. “Get some rest, Bluejay. You should feel better tomorrow.”

Janis falls asleep once the medicine kicks in, held safely in Cady’s arms.

————-

When Cady wakes up the next morning, Janis is already looking much better. Her temperature is almost normal and she’s gotten some color back. She’d woken up a few times in the night, needing more medicine for her pain before falling quickly back asleep, but it seems to have done its job well.

Janis’ brown doe eyes blink open after a few minutes, the fogginess cleared and the beautiful shine back. She grins upon seeing Cady looking at her, stretching and giving a yawn. “Hi.” Janis says, sounding much less hoarse and pained.

“Hi,” Cady responds, kissing her nose softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Still not totally back, but better,” Janis says softly, protecting her recently returned voice.

“Good. I missed your smile,” Cady says. “I liked the extra cuddles though. That was the only good part.”

Janis chuckles. “Thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m annoying when I’m sick. I get so clingy. Whiny.”

“Love, you were absolutely miserable yesterday, you’re allowed to be clingy and whiny. I liked taking care of you, I just didn’t like seeing you hurt so badly,” Cady chides gently.

“I love you,” Janis cuddles back into her, kissing the spot on her chest she can reach. “You’re the best medicine.”

“I love you too. I’ll always be around to take care of you.”

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. please let me know what you thought!

first request fill is coming next week!

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #space safari #paint by numbers #cady x janis #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years ago

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20 Doctors And Nurses Share The Creepiest Last Words Uttered By A Patient Before Dying

I work in a cardiac ICU. We had a patient who had a pulmonary artery rupture (a rare, but known complication of a Swan-Ganz catheter). One minute he was joking around with us and the next bright red blood was spewing out of his mouth. His last words before he died were “why is this happening to me?”

It still haunts me years later.

I’m an RT and had a vented trach patient in angio have the same thing happen. Vent waveforms got a little funky showing she needed suctioned. I walked up to her and saw bright red blood just start shooting up the vent circuit and immediately obstruct it.

I immediately said “she’s hemorrhaging” and the vascular surgeon said “no it’s just a little blood” thinking I was referring to his access site in her groin.

I popped her off of the vent and blood just started pouring out of her trach, mouth, and nose. She looked at me and said, “just let me die.”

The puddle of blood was about 6 feet in diameter on the floor within just a couple of minutes and I was covered from the chest down.

I’ve seen some shit, but that was the worst,

“But I don’t know how to get there…” Grandpa in hospice. Hadn’t spoken in days. Died about 2 hours later.

I’m a nurse and was previously working at an assisted living community on the dementia/Alzheimer’s unit. My very favorite patient had been declining pretty steadily so I was checking on him very frequently. We would have long chats and joke around with each other, but in the last two weeks of his life, he stopped talking completely and didn’t really acknowledge conversation directed at him at all.

I finished my medication rounds for the evening and went to see him before I left. I told him I was leaving for the night and that I’d see him the following day, and he looked me in the eyes and smiled SO genuinely and said, “You look like an angel.” I thought it was so sweet because he had not seemed lucid in weeks.

He died the next morning. It really messed with me.

I overheard an old lady whisper this to her old husband dying of kidney problems.

“You are going to beat this, you got away with murder, this is nothing”

Nurse here – had a patient come into the ER with shortness of breath. He started deteriorating in the ER, and then quite rapidly on the transport up the ICU. We got him wheeled into his room, replaced the ER lines and tubes with our own, and transferred him from the transport stretcher to his ICU bed.

He actually did most of the transfer himself. He didn’t say anything, but just before he died he pleasantly adjusted his own pillow, laid his head down, and then his eyes went blank. This man just made himself comfortable before laying down to die.

Dad had MS. He’d had it since he was 18. Diagnosed at 20, married my mom at 24, had me at 29, died 15 days short of 45. Six months before that, he was put on hospice. He and Mom were discussing funeral arrangements, and my mom jokingly said, “You know Tim, the best thing you could do would be to die on a Wednesday. That way we can have the body prepared on Thursday, the viewing on Friday, and the memorial on Saturday, so more people could come.

The morning we got the call that it was time, my mom, two sisters, and I were about five minutes too late. After we said our goodbyes, the nurse pulled my mom aside and asked if that day had any significance. It’s not even 6 am yet, so Mom doesn’t even know what day it IS much less if it’s important. The nurse tells her it’s May 21st. No… nothing is coming to mind.

The nurse told her that the previous day he kept asking what day it was and they’d tell him it was the 20th. He’d look irritated but accept it. That morning, he asked what day it was, and they said, “It’s Wednesday, May 21st.” He smiled, squeezed his favorite nurse’s hand, and was gone almost immediately.

It was Memorial Day weekend, and we did just as he and Mom had planned. And despite many friends being out of town for the holiday, we had over 250 people show up at the memorial service, overflowing the tiny church more than it had ever been filled. To his dying day, he was trying to make things easier for our family. I miss him.

My grandfather on his deathbed said “they have no eyes,” still give me chills.

“Get home safe, little one.” It wasn’t what he said – he said the same thing to me any time I had him as a patient for the evening. It was how he said it. He gave me this look and pause like he knew. The DNR’s in my experience, always know when it’s time. It’s creepy.

10.

Checked in on a patient before the end of my shift and she was in good spirits, had been joking with me the whole time. Her condition was tenuous (new trach) but she had been positive throughout. I asked how she was doing and she replied by singing “The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be” and wished me a good night.

I came in the next morning and she had coded and died overnight.

11.

Came into an early shift and was handed over a patient who’d been very anxious and had a panic attack overnight. He was anxious all morning but obs all fine, ecg fine and so I just asked someone to sit with him to keep an eye on him/reassure him for me. He gets worse, really panicky, heavy breathing, he’s on his side in the fetal position.

Drs will be in in 10 minutes so I tell him I’ll get them to him as soon as they come in but ask if he’ll lie on his back for me to help his breathing. He tells me he won’t make it until they get here and that he won’t face the other way. Obs still all fine at this point but he’s more agitated so again I suggest he move position for comfort and that’s when he says, ‘I won’t make it until the Drs get here. If I turn to face the other way I’ll die’. He repeated this a few times to me.

He arrested literally as the Drs walked in and he died on the side he’d been refusing to turn to. I’m convinced he knew.

12.

I’m an apprentice funeral director. We went to a nursing home on a removal and as we were walking down the hall one of the patients got antsy and opened the door to his room and saw us walking with the stretcher.

“I’ll see you next week boys”

And guess who we had to pick up the next week.

13.

I found one of my “comfort measures only” patients standing at the side of his bed. It surprised me because he had been mostly unresponsive during my shift. I helped him back into bed and he asked me why all these people were in his room.

He suddenly became quiet again and I noticed he wasn’t breathing. He was a DNR so there wasn’t anything to do to try to bring him back. Looking back he may have been talking about me and the CNA that was helping me get him back into bed, but who knows what or who he was seeing the last minutes of his life. Still creeps me out a little when I think about it.

14.

I had a cousin that had cancer and died when he was a little kid. He once asked her mother why all these people visited and she said: “Because your cousins, aunts and uncles love you very much and want you to get better” and he answered, “I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about the ones that visit me at night.”

15.

My first hospice case. She was on morphine and started mock smoking. She looked at me, took my hand and said “please” in the most pleading voice I’ve ever heard. I sat with her body until the corner arrived. She has no friends or family. Only her lawyer showed up. I’ve only done one hospice case since.

16.

I’ve commented this somewhere before but it’s stayed with me! I’m an RN and while I was a student I was caring for a lady who had end stage renal failure, had a DNAR and was shutting down. We were having a little chat, well I was chatting away while helping her put on some lotion, when she stopped, looked over my shoulder and said, “Bill’s here love, I’ve got to go” and swiftly stopped breathing. Read her old notes and Bill was her deceased husband.

17.

DNR patient was on comfort cares. Was on a high dose of morphine and hallucinating. She would alternate between grasping for things not there and trying to climb out of bed. She was too unsteady to walk so my job was to sit in the room and make sure she was safe. She tried to get up and I went to ask her what she needed. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down towards her face and said, very angrily, “kill me”. That one fucked with me for awhile.

18.

Back when I was a CNA this one resident fell off a bike for exercise in pt and seized, they came to and became lucid and said, “I think I’m dying,” but everyone in the room assured her that wasn’t going to happen, she seized up and was dead within minutes.

19.

Last year: my grandfather started desperately pleading for his life with his German captors from WWII

The doctor present was smart and said in German: “You are free, Herr Caticature. You are free.” And then he died.

20.

I actually have 3 that stick out in my mind. An 83 year old woman that said “My mom’s here. Are we going?” She died a few minutes later.

Another older lady said “I think I’m going to die today…” we took vitals, everything seemed fine. She was stable. She had a heart attack a couple hours later. Not her last words, but the last she ever said to me.

The last one is definitely the creepiest. A nice old lady who told my CNA she wanted to wear all white. When asked why, she said “The man in black is here.”

She looked in the corner of the room. The CNA looked, but there was no one there. That’s when I came into the room. We asked her to describe what she was seeing and she said “he’s in all black, and he’s got a top hat on.” Then she whispered “and his eyes are red” while her eyes moved across the room to directly behind the CNA, like she was watching him move closer to us. She died later that night. But it was unexpected. That room creeped me out for a long time after that.

#20 Doctors And Nurses Share The Creepiest Last Words Uttered By A Patient Before Dying #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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kingsephir · 4 years ago

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Interview tag from @viohra He said if I read it I was tagged so here we are ;))

Nickname: Thirtyfour, Thirty, Thursday, Leon, Stephan.

Pronouns: She/her

Star sign: Taurus Gemini cusp

Height: 155cm or 5’1”

Time currently: 20:47

Birthday: May 19th

Favourite bands: The Glitch Mob, Rammstein, ALEX, Sidewalks and Skeletons, Johnny Cash, Billie Eillish, Priest, And One, Depeche Mode, Michael Jackson (it’s all over the place i know lol)

Favourite solo artists: Hozier, Till Lindeman, Andy Biersack (when he is more melodic), also if any of the above is a solo artist. Idk who’s a solo artist and who’s a band 😅

Song stuck in my head: uhh i don’t have a russian keyboard so here’s a screen cap:

Last movie watched: oh god I can’t remember it’s been weeks. I think it was the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (the third movie) it was cute :))

Last show binged: I’m watching Breaking Bad rn but I only binge it somedays. I watched almost a full season in two days but then it’s taken another three weeks to watch the next two seasons lol.

When I created my blog: Oh shoot idk... I know it was in the summer when I was in highschool so June or July 2012 or 2013?

Last thing googled: oh noooo. “What to say when japanese people ask you about hiroshima JET” there was no answer. So if any of YOU have any ideas please tell me. 🥲

Other blogs: a reference blog called thursdaynoreference, a black and gold themed blog velvetandgolddust, my art theprayinghandsof34, a very old blog that I don’t update bc now i just have a tag for it (original posts) theoriginalthursday, a translation blog I don’t really use (yet??) 34translates, and a blog for when I am panicking and I need something to transport me somewhere else 34plusplacestobe.

Why I chose my URL: some of it is in my actual name, I’m semi religious, I vibe with being a female king. Queen just doesn’t suit me imo. And my online name has been 34 for many many years. My irl dnd group named me it first as a joke and I ended up loving being called a number. Also, pray for me if that is something you do. <3 So: pray4king34

Do you get asks: not really but when I do it’s bc a few of you sent numbers for an ask game that I forget to tag to reference later and I never end up answering them I’m so sorry 😭😭 I’m gonna tag my ask games and answer your questions next time I swear.

How many people you follow: holy shit i’ve never looked. It’s 5000 exactly LOL. BOI do I need to clear it out. Only like 100 of you actually post 😭

How many people follow you: 708 I didn’t realize I passed 700 either! Nice :D

Average hours of sleep: 8 or 9. I don’t wake for anything so I just sleep when I’m tired and wake when I’m awake. Usually 1am to 10am but lately i’ve been waking up to my alarm at 8:30 to study at 9am. But I don’t really watch when I sleep.

Lucky number: 34! And 411 (because of a kingdom hearts ship) and 11 bc that’s when I found out I was actually insane.

Instruments: Violin for 13 years (don’t let that fool you I am not good and I do not like it) Piano but not very good and self taught. I can kinda sing?

What I’m wearing right now: My fiancé’s T-shirt that he had when he was 12 that I though looked really cool. It’s black with a white and tan stripe on the chest. It’s kinda big on me and it’s tucked into a black midlength skirt. (Which I wear a black midlength skirt most everyday lol)

Dream job: translator, ai programmer, maybe something in robotics?

Dream trip: Ireland and England or Turkey.

Favourite food: Spaghetti and hot wings. Always has been, always will be.

Favourite song: I don’t have a single favourite but here’s some that really resonate with me:

Rosenrot by Rammstein

Stein um Stein by Rammstein

The clouds breathe for you by The Glitch Mob

Lowtide by O’death

Vaudeville by Preist

Please by Blanck Mass

Raf by Deeperise

Everything at once by Lenka

Bad Guy by Billie Eilish

Top 3 fictional universes to live in:

Blade Runner

Tolkien

Harry Potter

Who I’m tagging: @czbeans @chispie @xthedeadkingx @bentolover @vixenargentum and whoever else wants to! (Pls feel free- or not 😅)

#praytell

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comicsnas · 5 years ago

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showtime

WARNING: eye gore!!, violence Disclaimer: this is..... an au where guy fieri isnt a cool and chill dude that just likes food. i am very sorry for what i do to him in this. i dont mean it and if the cops knock at my door i will blame it on hussie word count: about 3.7k. i am so sorry

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

“No matter what happens, nobody cancels the premiere,” you say. “Okay? No matter what’s in the news. No matter how bad it gets. The movie drops on Thursday, and people are gonna watch it. Got it? This is a scare tactic and we’re not falling for it. Even if the world is ending, we are premiering this movie and going through with the promo. With or without me.”

Catalena, your manager, has been with you for too long to think that you’re joking. She was who flew you in from Houston to LA back when you were twenty, who let you sleep on your couch until you made enough money to get an apartment, who thought that the message you had for the world was one worthy of her help. She knows that all of this is real, and that she can’t stop you.

Her face says, Dave, you’re scaring me. Her mouth says, “You got it. Could you at least tell me… what you think is going to be in the news that would make us not premiere it?”

“Something bad,” you say. “Hopefully, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “Are you faking your death?”

“Lalonde and I are gonna disappear for a sec,” you say. “How people interpret that is gonna be up to them.”

“Not like you to leave things up to chance,” Catalena says. “Some will think it’s elaborate PR.”

“That’s why I’m only telling you. Lalonde and I are gonna frame this to look serious, and no one else is gonna know what’s going on. You keep your cool, but don’t let anyone know that you’re in on it.”

“I mean, I barely am.” She gives you a Look, a capital L Look, then sighs and nods. “Fine. So if I hear about your presumed death tomorrow, I won’t freak out. At what point am I allowed to assume you are actually dead, and freak out a little bit?”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week,” you say, “then Lalonde and I have been killed by Betty Crocker.”

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

That’s not true. You’re not blind. You don’t think you are going to be blind. There is no way that you’re fully blind, because the assassin only got your right eye, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be blind, but you’re blind.

The pain might originate from your right eye, but it’s engulfing your entire head by now, and there is something sticky in your left eye and you can’t open it anymore and it burns, and you’re going to go blind, and then you’re going to die in a ditch, in a pool of your own blood, and this is it. It’s over. You and your half sister fucked around on the internet a bunch, got really deep into some conspiracy theories, and barely two weeks after you made the discovery that Betty Crocker definitely, undoubtedly, literally is an actual alien, someone was sent to kill you.

They didn’t manage, so far. They got your eye, and they broke your glasses, leaving a cut on your nose, and a bunch of cuts everywhere else, and you think you cracked your head open when you fell. But you cut their knife hand off, good and clean off, watched it fall to the ground right in front of you. By the time it hit the pavement, the assassin had already turned around and ran away, leaving you to crumple and suffer here by yourself.

This is it.

“Strider?” Rose says. Before the blood trickling into your good eye ruined your vision, you managed to dial her number and call her up, and now you’re lying on your side with your phone pressed to your ear, imagining her in her college dorm room in New York. You were going to visit her there, years ago, after you ran away from your parents. It never worked out. Neither of you has the money. You really wish you could have seen her at least once.

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

“You gotta go. She sent someone after me, she’s gonna come for you too. If she knows that I know, she’ll know that you know.”

One of the most comfortable parts of friendship with Rose, you’ve found, is that she never asks you to clarify what the fuck you’re talking about. Either she just lets you ramble, or she knows exactly what you mean. “Shit,” she hisses, and you can hear rustling on her side of the line, hopefully from her getting ready. She probably has a getaway bag somewhere, you think. You have one, but not on you right now. It’s too late for that.

“They’ve already hit me, so whoever she sent to you can’t be far,” you say. You try to blink your eye open, but then it hurts the other more, and it burns. You can’t even tell where exactly. It just burns. “Hurry up, Lalonde.”

“They’ve hit you?” she echoes, still rustling, breathing into the phone. On the move. Good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say. “Gonna call an ambulance after this. Just get the fuck out and text me later, yeah?”

Rose pauses. You can hear her pause, you can hear everything go very silent for a second. She says, “You called me before you called for help?”

“Yeah,” you say. She told you, once, that there is a quick and easy way out the window of her second-storey dorm room, that lets her balance over to her girlfriend’s room only a few windows ahead. She can’t hide there, it’s too close, but it’s a start. She’ll figure it out, she always will. She was the first person to ever have your back. “Of course I did.”

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

You’re leaned back, staring out the window, listening to the clicking of her knitting needles next to you. The pilot here doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, just that he is flying two rich people and their car to Washington, DC. Your Mustang is in the cargo part of the plane, a vital part of the plan. You’ll torch it later. It was the first car you bought with your own money, after SBaHJ had become big and you had finally paid off your hospital debt.

Rose’s apartment isn’t that old, she got it after Roxy was born and she decided to move to Los Angeles, so you could help each other babysit. Trashing it still felt wrong. A home is a home, but you wanted it to look broken into, to make sure that people put two and two together. This isn’t a Dave Strider marketing scheme, you both got hit. After all the work that you’ve done, at least some of the public should understand what that means.

“Us,” you say.

“That’s very sentimental,” she says. “Are you sure you aren’t mourning your car again?”

“Shut up,” you say, and blindly swat at her, hitting her elbow. She hits you back, hand slapping your shoulder. “It’s a good car.”

Rose hums. When you look at her, she’s already back to knitting. You have no idea what she’s making, but it looks like a onesie for an octopus. “We will be fine,” she says. “We have to.”

You nod, and go back to staring out the window, thinking about what Alma said. “It’s just,” you say quietly. “We gotta start thinking about the endgame, here, don’t we.”

“Start?” Rose echoes. “Dave, we know the endgame to this. We’ve known for a while. The second you landed in the hospital with a cut inside your eyeball, you and I both knew that this would end in death.”

You don’t say anything. She’s right, of course she is. You knew then, and she knew, as soon as you texted her from your hospital bed, and she texted you back from a Greyhound bus. And you tried to forget, you both did, for a very long time. You almost managed, for a whole decade, until last year, someone made you scared and angry enough to ram a sword through his throat. Until Rose came and disassembled the body on your rooftop, and then helped you burn it. Reality has caught up with you, and someone is going to die.

The clicking of her needles has stopped again. You turn your head to look at her, and she’s looking back at you, and her face seems younger than it should be. She is just as scared as you are. Neither of you ever wanted it to go this far. Neither of you wanted to kill.

“I don’t like it either,” Rose says. “But someone is going to wind up dead, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be us.”

Washington, DC, now

)(IC: u comin or what TG: yeah about that

You’re on the hood of your car. The children -- and Sally, John’s pet hedgehog -- are with the one sitter you still trust. Rose is in position, which means she is at a remote location outside the city holding Guy Fieri hostage. She has sent you a picture of him tied to a chair and gagged, which means that it’s go time.

All according to plan.

TG: how about you come kill me somewhere else instead of home sweet home )(IC: why would i do that TG: dying mans last request? )(IC: stfu lol this is so obviously a trap TG: wow ok so is yours )(IC: fair TG: just thought that you know TG: john means something to both of us and dont try to tell me no because i know he does TG: so like can we maybe duke it out somewhere where i wont accidentally blow him to smithereens TG: innuendo intended )(IC: UG)( )(IC: gross TG: lmao TG: anyway bethany you know me and you know im comin with c4 in my backpack if im comin TG: do you really want that around your son or can you just get off your ass and meet me here so john stays safe )(IC: u reely think ya have a fighting chance to even get that far )(IC: buoy you set one foot in my house and ya get spearfished TG: yeah not really making a great point for me to come there rn TG: just thought maybe youd wanna be with your guy guy )(IC: who TG: you know TG: guy the guy )(IC: tf

You text her the picture that Rose sent, just Guy Fieri looking miserable, no indication of whether or not you or Rose are with him.

)(IC: )(-EY )(IC: motherglubber what do u think yoar doin TG: yoar??? TG: thats literally not a word. wym you oar?? what TG: anyway im gonna dismember this asshole if you dont agree to keep john safe and come here and im gonna start with the frosted tips )(IC: FIN--E )(IC: cant effin wait to be done with you )(IC: ill come krill ya if its so shrimportant just gimme the location TG: ok shrimportant is actually pretty funny TG: [coordinates] TG: see you soon

She drives a fuchsia Jaguar that looks like Xzibit threw up all over it, because of course she does. You watch it leave from your perch on your Mustang, then slide off the hood. shes gone, you text Rose. get ready to bounce

Before you leave, you turn back toward you car, and gently pat the roof. “See you soon,” you repeat, “for one last ride.”

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

Later on in the plan, once you’ve convinced John to come with you, and Rose has joined you in the no doubt brutal course out of the house littered with security guards, the three of you will pack into this car, and you will drive. You will be tailed, you know you will. Rose and you estimate two to three SUVs with more security personnel that will follow you, and sooner or later, you won’t stand a chance against them.

So, you’ll call the cops. You don’t usually do this -- even during all these years, neither you nor Crocker ever called the police on each other, and technically, you still won’t, today. You will just anonymously call authorities, and tell them about a burning car by the side of the road. Then you will hang up, and you and Rose and John will hop out of a moving vehicle as you crash your beloved Mustang and have it go up in flames. Authorities will come and find Dave Strider’s infamous car, and hopefully that’ll get people talking.

Crocker’s guys will hopefully exit their cars and go looking for you, or at least for John. It’s an easy con from there -- while they look, you will steal their SUVs and drive off toward your safehouses. Simple. No sweat.

“This better work,” you mutter to yourself, then leave your car behind and start climbing the fence around Crocker manor.

You’ve been here once before, while she was out and John was showing you around. You weren’t actively trying to case the place back then, just spending time with your boyfriend and checking out where he grew up, but you couldn’t help how curious you were. You still remember the most important spots, and you did your best to paint a proper picture of them to Rose (you drew a map in MS Paint), so now you have a pretty good idea of where you need to go.

The guard posts, of course, are randomized. You’ll have to take these as they come, and you feel prepared enough, with just your sword and a handful of knives. You’re wearing the kevlar you wore to the Oscars. You’re gonna be fine.

It’s a race against time now, knowing that there is no guarantee when Crocker will be catching on and returning to her house, and knowing that you stand no chance actually fighting her face to face. You climbed in toward the side of the house, because it’s the shortest distance between fence and wall. The front and back yards are ridiculously huge and opulent, and while you would have plenty of gaudy statues to hide behind, you’re not looking to make your way through there.

The first guard spots you right as you hop down off the fence, and your knife is in his shoulder before he even finishes drawing his gun on you. He’s also wearing a vest, but those don’t stop blades, and you take offense in knowing that she made them dress up like that. As if either you or Rose were going to show up with guns. She really doesn’t know you at all. You knock out the guard with a hit of the knife grip against his temple. Maybe you can get through this without deaths.

One of them you comfortably take out from behind a useless fountain placed in this part of the garden for some reason, appreciating how quiet and low-key you can be about it so far. The bigger the ruckus, the sooner she’ll return, so having them all go down in silence is your best case scenario.

It’s the third guard that ruins your track record. You’re almost at the house wall, and you know you’re under the right window, which means all you have to do is scale it and climb right into John’s room, but for that to work you need to have a clean path behind you. Which you don’t, you realize the second a bullet hits your back.

Your vest catches it, but the momentum still knocks you down, and you scrape both of your palms open on the weird break between lawn and pavement. You hate this fucking garden. Who lives like this? You’re gasping for breath and trying not to inhale any grass, dealing with the reality that this is the first time someone has shot at you and actually hit you, and the bullet might not have penetrated skin at all, but Jesus Fucking Christ it still feels awful. Like someone kicked you in the spine, only with a bullet instead of a foot.

Onward. You hear footsteps behind you, and now it’s your turn to kick, hitting them in the face with your boot in the same motion that you’re pushing yourself up from the ground. As they curse and stumble, you draw your sword, but they catch their footing quickly, and you know you only have a split second to act. That gun is pointing at you, again, or still, and they’re going for your head this time, and if you don’t fight now, the journey ends for you here. Someone is going to die, and it sure as shit can’t be you. Your arm darts forward.

The sword goes through their vest, their ribs, and their heart -- you wouldn’t call it smoothly, you really wouldn’t. You can feel resistance with every inch, you feel it right up to your shoulder, and you hate it, and it makes you want to throw up, but you can’t, now. You shove them off your blade and watch them crumple to the ground, and turn right back toward the wall. They are not getting up again. That’s on you, and you can deal with that later. You have to get moving.

Your phone vibrates.

You manage to pull yourself up on a balcony and crouch there, hiding from whatever is going on in the yard now. Other guards must have heard the shot being fired, so you really need to get the fuck out of sight, but this has to do, for now. If Crocker is messaging you, you have to respond, so she doesn’t think you’re in her goddamn garden.

)(IC: yo )(IC: send me proof yoar still with him )(IC: almost there this betta be worth it TG: one sec

As expected. All according to plan, so far. You hope the blood on your sword won’t make the sheath sticky. You’ll have to clean it, later. You don’t want to.

TG: shes asking for proof TG: go ahead. sorry TT: No worries. TT: I know we don’t endorse violence, but honestly, Dawon, after being in a room with him for this long, I am quite happy to do this.

She sends you a picture, and you grimace at your phone. It takes a lot to make you grimace, as a Strider born and raised -- at the same time, you’re not easily shocked or grossed out, but this isn’t great to look at. Fieri’s eye has been pulled from its socket, dangling down his cheek suspended from the nerve, a hole in the eyeball. You hope Crocker won’t be able to tell that this was done with a knitting needle, and forward the photo to her.

TG: hows this )(IC: )(--EY FUCK OFF )(IC: stop i reely like guy 38( TG: yeah well i really like john TG: eye for an eye TG: hurry it up im waiting and theres a second eye to gauge out )(IC: ten minutes )(IC: ur gonna be so sorry buoy

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

Okay. Crocker is on her way to a location where there will only be Guy Fieri and a set of elaborate boobytraps which you know won’t kill her, but hopefully slow her down. Rose is on her way here, to help you and John get out of here. That’s plenty of time you still have. Things are going suspiciously well, you think, before you remember the ache in your back and the fact that you killed someone.

You have to get to John.

He’s another two floors up, but you are right in front of a balcony door. For a second, you wonder if you could get into the house from here and do the rest from inside, so you don’t present yourself to the mob of people with guns in the garden. Unfortunately, before you can do that, another person with a gun appears on the other side of that door, mouths an angry what the fuck at you, and draws an assault rifle. Alright, well.

The thing that has mostly kept you from becoming too violent in the past is the fact that you’re fast, and you’re a great climber, so when you hop backward onto the banister of the balcony and pull yourself up to the next one above you, it happens so fast that nobody in the garden reacts. It’s after you’re already crouching behind the balcony, thankfully made of robust concrete, that the shots start hitting it. You do nothing, count the bullets, wait for them to get rid of half of their magazines down there. Then you pull a knife, peek over the balcony, and throw it right into someone’s bicep.

More shots. More ducking and counting. You have two more knives to throw, and you do, rinse and repeat. The people down there are very angry with you now, and very much still able to shoot, but you figure at least their aim will be off, and they’ll be slower. You hope. You haven’t held a gun yourself in fucking forever.

You take a breath, and jump up to grab the balcony you know belongs to John.

As soon as you’re in the open, another bullet hits your back, further toward your side this time, and you almost let go. You let out an undignified noise instead, and hold on harder, focusing all you have into your arms to pull yourself up. Shots are ringing in your ears, and one hits the concrete right next to your head at almost the same time that another one grazes your leg. You hiss in pain, grunt in exertion, pull, pull, and roll yourself onto John’s balcony.

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

You sit, curled up, and pull apart the tear in your pants with your aching fingers to check the wound. It’s not deep, certainly not as bad as the chunk of missing flesh you have in your arm from being shot at last year. It’s fine. You’ll forget about it in a second, when your newest problem will be telling your amnesiac boyfriend that he needs to come with you.

You pull yourself up into a crouch, not more. You don’t want to risk getting shot in the head as you finally face him, so you just do it like this. Hunkered down, disheveled and bloody, you lean forward and knock on John’s window.

#posted ooc #action post #woof #eye gore text -#graphic violence -#eye trauma -#the rest of this will happen in discord :')#mentioned:#fontjoke #comedianrhapsody #mindparkour #jakepalooka sort of

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danfanciesphil · 6 years ago

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Bodyguard au rn miss 💋💋

hey anyone that wanted me to write the bodyguard au inspired by this picture of phil, here’s what i got for u xoxo

On Thursdays, their busiest nights, the club offers two for one drinks for anyone who gets there before twelve, meaning the line outside the door often snakes all the way down to the pier. It’s gotten warmer over the last month, so Phil no longer has to feel as guilty about the hoards of people shivering in their skimpy outfits for hours in the freezing seaside air, but it’s still not fun being the guy who has to make them all wait. Strict club rules though - no more than fifteen people to be let in at once, staggered in five minute intervals.

A few people are trying to engage Phil in chatter, but he remains stoic and silent, arms folded just below the stitching on his tight black t-shirt that reads ‘Try It Mate’. The people at the front of the queue, a girl in tattered tights and a birthday sash flanked by two equally bimbo-ish friends, are finding this t-shirt hilarious, and keep yelling this at him, as if they actually think he can’t hear them standing two feet away. He’s had a lot of practice at ignoring drunken screeching though, so he just stares at the roiling sea in the distance, fast-forwarding his brain a few hours, to when he can relax in his bed, eat leftover pizza and play some video game he could complete blindfolded.

Billy, the other bouncer working tonight, taps Phil discreetly on the arm - the signal that enough time has passed to let some more people in. With a quiet sigh, Phil turns and unhooks the rope separating him from the drunk girls, and inclines his head to let them through. As they stumble inside the door, flashing their passports and driver’s licences, Billy makes a disapproving face. Phil knows that some bouncers would label the girls as ‘TDTD’ (too drunk to dance), and not let them inside, but Phil can’t be bothered to go through that whole charade with them. They look the sort that would kick off, and hold up the queue even more. They’re straight, probably, out on a girls night for the sash-girl’s birthday, and fancy trying out a gay club just to be daring. It pisses Phil off, and if he were more like Billy, weathered by years of the job and willing to take no nonsense, he might be more inclined to refuse them entry.

But it’s too late now, they’re already inside, likely ordering prosecco at a bar that serves mostly jagerbombs and cheap imitation cosmos, then clambering up on the podiums with the professional dancers and drag queens to show off for their Instagram feed. Billy nudges him in the side, and Phil realises he’s still watching the entrance where the girls disappeared, and not focusing on the queue. He turns quickly to the next person - tall, skinny, dressed in a crop top that looks like it’s made for a doll, a thin, satin, pink and white bomber jacket, and a pair of denim shorts so tiny that they barely begin to cover the person’s ass. The highlight of the ensemble is the lilac wig that cascades in loose curls down to waist-level, complete with a thick fringe that hangs down over whoever’s eyes are hiding behind it.

Phil takes one look at this joker and has half a mind to turn them away without even speaking to them, but a skinny arm reaches up to offer an ID, so Phil sighs and takes it even though every one of his spidey-senses is tingling. It’s a green driver’s permit, not even a full license; the date printed would make the owner twenty-one. Phil gives the lanky figure in front of him another brief once-over - no way are they a day over eighteen, and that’s pushing it. His eyes flick to the name: Daniel James Howell. There’s a photo too of course, of an attractive, far more masculine-presenting, clean-cut young adult with a slight side-fringe. The lilac-haired beauty in front of Phil does not, in his opinion, match this general look. Still, he supposes it’s his job to make sure.

“What’s your name?” Phil asks, starting off easy so he doesn’t humiliate the kid.

“I guess you could call me Dan, most of the time,” lilac-hair says in an unexpectedly sure, confident voice; Phil can’t be sure whether the tremor he can hear is in from cold or from their nerves about being caught.

“Don’t sound very sure about that.”

They get a lot of this kind of thing. Young, nervous gay guys - it’s mostly guys - sneaking out to come for their first gay club experience, usually dressed up in their mum or sister’s clothes, disguised but still scared shitless that someone will clock them and they’ll be forced prematurely out of the closet. This kid is likely still in school, desperate to find a place he can be himself - unfortunately, the law is the law, and he’ll just have to come back when he’s old enough to have a real ID.

“Think I don’t know my own name?” the kid asks. “Listen, from nine to five, my name’s Dan Howell. But I’m not going by Dan tonight, get me?”

The irritation in this person’s voice makes Phil pause. Normally, a bad attitude like this would be enough of a deterrent that they’d risk getting turned away, but if anything, on lilac-hair the attitude is just confusing. What does he have to be irritated about? He’s got no gaggle of friends with him, nor does he appear to be in a hurry. Phil’s just trying to do his job - if this person is underage, they must’ve known this might happen.

He studies the ID again, noting that for a fake it’s very convincing. He turns to flash the small green card at Billy, who frowns at it, then shrugs in a ‘looks real to me’ way. Phil’s gaze drifts back to lilac-hair and asks, “what’s your star sign?”

A tiny smile spreads over thin, glossed pink lips. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

Absurdly, Phil feels himself grow warm with embarrassment. It makes no sense - he’s been flirted with hundreds of times working here and it’s never so much as rattled him before. He shrugs it off, trying to appear unamused. “I’m not flirting with you, I’m trying to see if you’re fucking about with me. Might wanna play along, sunshine.”

The pink lips part to let out a sigh of frustration. “I’m a gemini. Wanna know my bra size too?”

The dates on the ID work; Phil long ago learned the correct dates for the star signs for this exact reason. He ignores the snarky follow up question, which is good of him. “Can you lift your wig, please?”

Lilac-hair hesitates, then flicks the long locks falling by their ears back over each shoulder, revealing a lot of pale skin and sharp, jutting collarbones. Phil averts his eyes quickly - if this person is underage, he can’t be staring inappropriately. Not that he should be doing that with any customers that are legal either.

“Not like that,” Phil says, brusquely, “I can’t see your eyes.”

Lilac-hair lifts their head, chin jutting out, and behind the unbrushed lilac strands, Phil can almost make out two dark, almond-shaped eyes staring back at him. Phil can’t help an amused smile forcing its way out, born from the kid’s stubborn defiance. This person is not about to let Phil off easily, if they are lying about their age.

So, mostly to speed things along, Phil reaches out a hand - very much without thinking - and pushes the purple fringe back. The kid’s eyes are round and startled, which is fair enough, as Phil hadn’t even known he was going to make such a bold move until he’d already done it. This is far from protocol, probably, touching the customers unless they’re being belligerent and require forcible removal. But he’s too far in now, holding the handful of acrylic hair out of this person’s face. And yep, it’s at once completely obvious that he is, in fact, the same person as the man in the ID photo - no question about it.

The ID is, apparently, real. Lilac hair is twenty-one years of age, and Phil’s just got to accept it. Not a kid at all. He releases the fringe, and lilac-hair blinks as it falls back into their eyes.

“Satisfied?” Lilac hair huffs, straightening the fringe with their fingers.

“In you go,” is all Phil replies, a little gruffly because he knows he’d been wrong to prematurely assume this person was trying to break the law from appearance alone. He hates that his own prejudice can sometimes leak through when assessing people in this job, though he tries his hardest to be totally impartial. He hands ‘Dan’ their ID back and lets them through the rope. Lilac-hair takes their time about going through, pulling the wig back around his shoulders, then swaying their hips as they swan by. Despite knowing he shouldn’t, Phil’s eyes fall to the curve of lilac’s ass, peeking through the hotpants as they head to the door. Phil never wears wigs, but he sees a lot of people in them working here, and long ago learned the difference between a cheap ‘party city’ wig, and an expensive one. The one lilac is wearing is definitely on the cheaper end of the scale, but it’s gorgeous in its tackiness, like the person inside it knows that the pastel colour is exactly their shade. The plastic hair falls in a great tumble down a tapered back, bouncing just above the waistband of those tiny shorts. The sight is unforgettable, Phil can already feel it burning into his retinas, to be replayed in the dark, when he’s alone.

Billy clears his throat then, breaking Phil out of his trance. He rips his eyes away, sheepishly, turning to Billy. “Not a good idea to put your hands on ‘em,” Billy reminds him in his low, rough voice. “Some of ‘em get shirty about it.”

Phil nods, glad of the darkness hiding his flush, and turns to the next set of people in the queue.

At around half one, Phil signals to Billy that he needs to take a piss. The queue is long gone by now, and they’ve moved into the second half of their shift, which is watching the smoking area for people trying to do drugs, and kicking people to the kerb if they get too drunk. There haven’t been too many of either instances this evening, so Phil feels pretty safe about leaving Billy alone for five minutes. He heads inside, scooting behind the bar to get across to the toilets so that he doesn’t have to barge through the crowds on the dancefloor. The bartenders all nod at him as he passes, some exchanging harried looks with him because it’s rammed in here, and they all spent the first few hours of the night making two of every drinks order.

In the unisex bathroom, Phil pees quickly then washes his hands; he notices a few people scarpering from cubicles at the sight of him, but doesn’t bother try and catch them. They’re either doing drugs or having sex, and either one is moronic to do in a bathroom stall if you ask him. He does do a quick scout of the cubicles before he leaves, knocking on doors and saying stern things in the hopes of scaring them into sense for a bit.

It’ll only work for a while - once they know he’s out of sight they’ll be back at it again, but there’s not much he can do about it. They check likely suspects for pills and powders on the way in, and confiscate a fair amount, but Phil’s not dumb and knows there’s a hundred ways they could be hiding it.

It’s as he gets to the bar again that Phil notices the swirling lights washing over a familiar waterfall of lilac, in front of the bar waiting to be served. There’s a guy next to lilac hair, obnoxiously crowding them in a way that Phil is all too familiar with. The guy has a wifebeater on with the word ‘woof’ scrawled across the chest. He’s also wearing a snapback indoors. Both of these are major red flags for Phil, who has seen and kicked out a lot of classic douchebags in his time.

He pauses, waiting to see the scene unfold. The bartenders are swamped with orders from the hoard of people crammed up against the bar - lilac has been pushed right to the edge with woof-man. Unless he’s willing to give up his place in the makeshift queue, he won’t be able to escape unwanted advances. Phil waits, certain that woof is seconds away from making his pig-headed move. He doesn’t have to wait long.

Woof-man leans in and whispers something into the folds of the lilac wig. Whatever is said makes lilac recoil in disgust. To stop him moving away, woof-man reaches out and grabs lilac-hair by the outer hip, his meaty hand cupping the whole of his right ass-cheek, then tugs him in sharply. Already Phil is moving towards them at the sight of this, and that’s when woof-man squeezes his fistful of flesh, apparently quite hard, because in the next second, lilac is calmly reaching between two people to grab a leftover beer on the bar, and promptly upending it over woof’s head. The guy roars, half-drowned by the loud music, but audible enough that the near vicinity of people turn to see. Woof pulls off his snapback and shakes it out, furious; lilac flinches as the droplets of beer spray at him, but doesn’t try to run away. Phil reaches them then, alarm pumping through him to the beat of a Tove Lo song, and promptly inserts himself between the two, his back to lilac, one hand on woof’s chest.

“Oi, that’s enough,” Phil barks in his usual ‘bouncer voice’.

“It’s him not me!” Woof insists, as Phil knew he would. “That little fucker chucked a beer on me!”

“Out of nowhere, was it?” Phil’s already done with this dickhead. “I saw you grab ‘em, so don’t even try it. Far as I’m concerned, you deserve the beer bath.”

Woof’s face flushes red in fury. “Oh, get lost, you wanker. Look at ‘im. Boys don’t dress like that to be treated like Royalty, mate. He fuckin’ wants it.”

A white hot, blinding rage pierces Phil right through the chest. Something primal awakens in him, picturing lilac’s sweet, pretty features as he lifted the fringe from their eyes. “Right,” Phil growls through clenched teeth, “out.”

“What?!” Woof is practically frothing at the mouth. “You can’t do that!”

“I bloody well can mate,” Phil says; he’s hoping that woof will listen to him, as he’s seconds away from throwing a punch, “I’m the bouncer. Out. We don’t want your sort in here.”

The guy scoffs, squaring up, but he’s wobbly, obviously tipsy, and Phil just has to take one sombre, utterly unfazed step towards him, shoulders drawn up to elevate their height difference, and the guy sinks backwards. Phil loves watching the recalculating whirr of their slowly ticking, moronic brains.

“Whatever,” the guy spits, sending a dirty look over Phil’s shoulder, “this place is shite anyway.”

Thankfully, he turns, stalking away, and Phil watches long enough to make sure he heads for the door. Once he’s out of sight, Phil turns, somewhat unsurely, back to lilac, who is staring at Phil, the fringe parted into two curtains that split in curves across a smooth forehead. It’s nice to see those eyes again; they shouldn’t be hidden, Phil thinks..

“Thanks,” lilac says. “But I could’ve handled it.”

“No trouble,” Phil replies, chuckling at lilac’s continued defiance, “‘s what I’m here for. You ok?”

Lilac nods contemplatively, those brown eyes flicking over Phil’s face, head tilted. He’s wearing makeup, Phil notices. Something sparkly wiped across his eyelids and cheeks. Pink lipgloss. Maybe mascara too. Phil feels a curl of something he hasn’t felt for a long time, twisting and writhing like a worm in his gut. He squashes it down, embarrassed by his attraction to such an obvious display of faux-feminine allure. Such a cliche, lusting after the pretty boys, or not-boys perhaps, considering what ‘Dan’ had said outside.

“Bet you get that problem a lot,” Phil says, not thinking. He only realises how much like a come-on it sounds when it’s too late.

Lilac’s eyebrow quirks, and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a surprised smile. “You sure you’re not flirting with me?”

The blush whips into Phil’s cheeks so fast it nearly unstables him. He’s suddenly very aware of the intense effect this person seems to be having on him, just due to their proximity. Sure, beneath the overpowering performance of that wig lies an extraordinarily pretty human, but Phil daily encounters lots of beautiful people in this job. Gay club patrons tend to go ham on the glitz and glamour.

It’s just something about lilac, in their skimpy clothes that look like they were stitched out of a teenage girl’s bedroom curtains, and the cheap synthetic that somehow transforms the outfit into something bewitching. The makeup is done imperfectly, the sparkly blue varnish on their nails is half bitten off. But there’s no denying the effect lilac has, and seems to know they have, judging by the flirtatious smile being aimed his way.

“Of course not,” Phil says anyway, bristling. He averts his eyes; lilac’s stare is lasering right through him. “I work here.”

“Me too,” lilac replies, one bony shoulder shrugging up. Fingers come up to tuck a strand of wig behind an ear, revealing a glinting diamond stud, big and gaudy, in one lobe. “As of about ten minutes ago.”

Phil’s half sure he’s misheard, perhaps due to dizzying effect this person seems to be having on him, as if lilac’s fingers are plucking at every thread stitching him together, unravelling him bit by bit.

“What?”

“They’ve taken me on. Probationary only for now, but I’ll convince them soon enough,” lilac says, then finally catches the eye of Melissa, their head bartender. Lilac mouths ‘sambucca’ at her, then holds up two fingers; she nods, glancing at Phil as if to say ‘did you really let this child in through the front door?’. “I do drag,” lilac says, teeth and tongue teasing out the word. “Or a kind of drag, I guess.”

“Oh,” Phil says, dumbed. He’s not sure what a ‘kind of’ drag could mean, but there’s no doubt that it’s an intriguing thought. “Right.”

Under normal circumstances, Phil would find it more than suspicious that anyone in a cheap wig and very basic outfit, someone barely manage to squeeze past the bouncers in here tonight due to their youthful appearance, could have somehow secured a highly coveted spot amongst some of the best drag acts in Brighton. This club is known for its regular, popular drag performances, happening on Fridays and Saturdays. Phil hadn’t even known the manager was looking for new talent - usually they hold auditions and have a long selection process, so the idea that someone would be able to walk in off the street and find work is almost unfathomable.

But these circumstances aren’t normal. Lilac is not just another drag act, Phil can sense it. If they’re able to hypnotise Phil, snatch him up body and soul with just a flutter of lashes and a few coy smiles, it’s almost terrifying to think what lilac could do to a whole room of people.

“I’m very good,” lilac says then around a knowing smile, so confident that Phil just nods in total acceptance.

Melissa pushes two shot glasses across the bar towards them, then shouts that it’ll be six pounds. Lilac starts digging into some non-existent pocket in those shorts; to stop himself staring, Phil cups a hand around his mouth and shouts to Melissa, “put it on my tab.”

Lilac’s eyes flick up to him through a haze of pastel. “Thanks,” is the response, before they pick up the shots and down both of them one after the other. Phil blinks, chastened. Of course he wasn’t certain that this jewel of a person was attempting to by him a drink, especially as they know Phil is working, but even so… it had sort of looked that way for a minute. Lilac flicks their lashes about, bored, then lands a chocolate gaze back on Phil. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Lilac pushes off the bar, already headed into the midst of the throng. The sight of the lilac covered back retreating is almost unbearable. Phil’s arm shoots out before he can stop it, catching lilac’s arm. Lilac snatches it away quickly, probably way too used to being grabbed at, and Phil feels slimy, holds his hands up in a show of surrender. Lilac has turned on the spot, is staring at him expectantly, warily.

There’s no in point in asking Phil why he’d felt the urge to halt this person’s exit, because he has no idea. He just needed one last, proper, good look at those beautiful, beguiling features before he had to bid farewell for an indefinite amount of time.

“Well?” lilac asks, though because of the music, Phil can only tell what they’d said by how those pink lips shaped the word.

“What’s your name?” Phil asks, for lack of anything better. Anything to prolong the inevitable parting of ways. “Your drag name,” Phil clarifies, hoping it’s the right question.

It seems to make lilac smile, if only slightly. They shift their weight onto one foot, hip jutting out to the side. A gauze of blue passes diagonally over their face, highlighting the gleam in their eyes.

“O-livia Truth,” he says slowly, enunciating each syllable. “I start on Friday. Blow me a kiss from the crowd.” Then, with a spin on a pink stiletto, they’re gone.

#phan #phanfic #bodyguard!phil #dragqueen!dan #gay club #prompts #anon #ellen answers #bonus points if u understand dans drag name

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sirius-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Chaos Theory Part 10

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Drug mention, swearing

Word Count: 7732 (fuck me)

A/N: Right, guys. 7,732 words is the longest fic I’ve ever written. I can’t even rn...I’m so tired and I’ve been working like so hard on this chapter and Young gods I’ve stocked up on tequila and vodka lol so after the next two chapters are released I can have a fucking Fiesta !! Just an FYI things are gonna start getting darker now. Also, I know Luke is supposed to look different for everyone but I think I’ve deserved using a gif of Noah Centineo bc he’s so cute and i love him sm, and given that I’ve written about Luke’s birthday, I think he should claim the header for now. Anyway, here we go. Happy B’day Lukey :)

This chapter is dedicated to my sister, Mariana ‘Maia/Maui’ Tori - I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you always. RIP belle fiore 🥀 1996 - 2004

Chapter 10:

***

Friday, December 18th

***

The strange parcel arrives late at night with no return address.

You recognise the signature style all too quickly and your stomach curls in on itself, heart shuddering and throat constricting like a straw.

After weeks of silence, the mysterious sender is back again and it looks like they’ve upgraded from creepy photo to mysterious box.

It’s sitting on your bed like a plain, Pandora’s box, inviting you to open it and unleash a tempest of chaos. You approach it slowly, hesitantly, icy blood gushing through your crystallised veins like Antarctic waters travelling down the deltas of a cold-blooded monster. A part of you needs to see this; it could be clues, a lead, something that could aid you in this impossible investigation. But the other part of you is wary, perhaps even a little afraid, because you’re not sure if you’re prepared to face whatever is in this box.

Either way, you find yourself standing in front of it, peering down at the familiar scrawl written across the top, and you slice the string holding it together, gripping the lid and squeezing your eyes shut so you can muster up every single ounce of your Gryffindor courage, tearing the lid off and-

You gasp.

***

Thursday, December 10th

***

Unsurprisingly, news about the Yule Ball spread quicker than a wildfire, tangling the school in a sticky web of rumours and gossip.

It’s all Parvati, Padma and Lavender can talk about after your weekly Howler meeting, much to the dismay of Dean Thomas, who sits on the fringe of their conversation, looking equal parts exasperated and nervous while the girls whisper and giggle beside him.

You can’t exactly blame them. The Yule Ball at Hogwarts is combining two of the most whimsical events and squeezing them into one night. Celebrating Christmas while dressing up and dancing with your date? Of course, all the girls would be excited; it’s an excuse to dress up and spend the night with people you care about.

The boys, however, do not share the girl’s enthusiasm for the Ball. Flustered and nervous, a lot of the boys at Hogwarts have had difficulty approaching the subject of dates, since according to tradition, it’s their responsibility to find one.

Harry had been shocked when McGonagall told him that he would have to find a dancing partner after Transfiguration earlier today. As a Champion, he had no choice in the matter, which meant that if he didn’t find a partner soon, he’d risk embarrassing himself in front of the entire school.

Ron, too, was starting to grow anxious about who he would ask to the ball, and Hermione had become impatient with him. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her; she was the most obvious choice to ask, yet Ron continued to allow his obliviousness blind him from what’s right in front of him. Hermione had been tempted to slap both Ron and Harry around the head and point out that they didn’t have to look very far, but you had stopped her before she could. While it would be enjoyable to go with Harry, you were hoping to be asked by someone else...

A touch of worry pricks your chest. What if you don’t get asked by anyone? That was a possibility you hadn’t really considered, given that you had been clinging hopefully to the prospect of being asked by Cedric.

Though to be fair, both you and Cedric have been so caught up in school work and...extracurricular activities, you hadn’t even had an opportunity to talk to one another, let alone arrange a date. Still, you supposed that there was still just over a week until the Ball...plenty of time to arrange a date...

“-hoping for a new camera for Christmas, mine is looking a little shabby, though Noah says that’s okay as long as it functions properly,” Colin Creevey says, excitedly, rambling at a million miles per hour, “He doesn’t really talk that much, does he? But he takes really good photos. I wonder if he could take a photo of me and Dennis with Harry? That would be awesome! Though I do feel a bit sorry for him, I heard that his sister-”

Your mind drifts again, eyes travelling past Colin and spotting Dean in the distance. He waves you over desperately, a pleasing expression written across his face.

“-isn’t that sad? She was always really nice to me so when Professor Dumbledore announced that she had died last year, I was really quite shocked. Nice of Professor Dumbledore to pay his respects to her, eh? He’s such a great Headmaster, he’s made Dennis and I feel at ease-”

“-That reminds me!” You interrupt, hurriedly, “I have to quickly speak to Dean about...something that Professor Dumbledore wanted so I’ll just-”

“Oh, yeah?” Colin asks, cheeks dimpled and eyes wide, “That’s so cool! Dean is such a great artist, he’s going to go far. Hey, I wonder if Harry has seen any of his work. Maybe I should ask Dean to sketch a picture of me and Harry together? Do you think Harry would like that for Christmas? You’d know best, you and Harry are basically-”

“-Yeah, that’s great,” you interrupt, hastily, already walking away from Colin, “See you Colin!”

Colin waves cheerily at you and plods away, approaching Juniper and Daisy and launching into a rambling lecture. You bite your lip, guilt plucking your chest. He really is a sweet boy, little Colin Creevey, who has idolised Harry since Colin arrived at Hogwarts. Leaving him feels mean, but you have a feeling that he could chat to you about everything and nothing for hours on end and still not tire out.

Ignoring your guilt and Colin’s excited voice that carries across the room, you approach Dean, who looks grateful at your arrival.

“Excited for the ball?” You tease, arching a coy eyebrow and Dean sighs.

“I can’t concentrate with the girls gossiping beside me,” Dean groans, rubbing soothing circles into his temples.

You shrug, sliding onto his desk and toying subconsciously with a loose fabric on your skirt, “You got to admit though, it is pretty exciting. Rumour has it that Celestine Warbeck is going to perform.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Pretty sure that’s still just a rumour.”

You give an exaggerated sigh, as though severely disappointed by this news, “Yeah. But it’d be nice though, right?”

Dean grins, “Oh boy, if that were true, I would be way more excited for this ball thingy.”

“I think everyone would be.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for the girls to be more excited than they already are.”

“Oh trust me, you’d be surprised.”

Dean snorts, studying you for a moment, his dark eyes glittering amicably, “I don’t suppose anyone’s asked you yet, have they?”

This time, it’s your turn to snort, “Oh, please Dean. I’ve been getting offers left, right and centre. I practically had to sneak my way here to avoid being swarmed by them all...” you pause for comedic effect, “...not.”

Dean chuckles, rolling his quill between his fingers, “Well, if you don’t get asked soon - which, I mean, you totally will get asked I’m not saying you’re not - I mean-you're pretty so I’m sure you’ll get offers - not that I think you’re pretty because - I mean - we’re just good friends - but I don’t think you’re ugly - you’re definitely not ugly I can tell you that right now - I mean -”

You raise your brows expectantly at him, smirking as you watch Dean sputter and stumble over his words. After another few seconds of spluttering, you finally decide to intervene, amused by his awkwardness.

“Dean Thomas, are you trying to ask me to the Ball?”

Dean averts his gaze, staring at his quill. The conversation beside you has gone quiet, the three girls pausing mid-sentence to eavesdrop on your conversation. Dean exhales a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes,” he mumbles, “I’m asking you to the ball. But as friends!” He adds, briskly, shooting a look at the girls giggling beside him, “And as a...um...Plan B...”

You smile warmly at him, his offer and awkwardness endearing. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you give him a subtle wink and beam at him.

“I would be honoured to have you as my Plan B.”

A burst of girlish giggles bubble into the air around you, cutting off Dean’s relieved chortles. Parvati and Lavender are both red-faced, hands clamped across their lips in a failed attempt to muffle their giggles. Padma, however, is grinning teasingly, glancing between you and Dean.

“Aw,” she gushes, reaching out to ruffle both yours and Deans hair, “You guys would be so cute together.”

“As friends,” you add, hastily, “Dean is my good ol’ pal and the best back up plan I’ve ever had.”

Dean clutches his chest through his shirt, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You frown at him, though you can’t stop the grin stretching across your lips, “I think you need to find yourself some new friends, then.”

Dean shrugs, “I suppose I do.”

As Padma and Dean begin to chat amongst themselves, you allow your gaze to drift away from their conversation, spotting Noah in the corner of the room. He’s bent over a desk, staring intensely at some photos, hands pressed flat against the desk in front of him. His aviator's jacket is too big for him; it swamps around his tall and lithe form almost drowning him in leather and wool.

You make your way towards him and lean against the desk, peering down at the photos in front of him.

They’re scenic landscapes snapped from various spots around Hogwarts, though they look incredibly different, enhanced even, as though you’re looking at places you take for granted through a different lens. There’s a photo of the Whomping Willow, the Courtyard, Hagrid’s hut and an excitable Fang. Noahs even made Blast-Ended Skrewts look more interesting than ugly killing machines.

“You’re a really good photographer, you know,” you murmur, smiling down at Noah’s photos.

“These are nothing,” Noah mutters, apathetically, “The camera that Maia gave me could make these photos look like they were taken by six-year-olds mucking around with a cheap Kodak.”

You bite your lip, ignoring the obvious Muggle reference (what in Merlin’s name is a Kodak anyway?) and consider Noah carefully, “I’m sorry about your camera.”

Noah shrugs, “It’s not the camera that I’m worried about...”

You think about resting a comforting hand on his, but decide against it.

“I’m sorry about Maia, too.”

Noah swallows thickly and turns away. He’s silent for a long time, and you’re afraid you may have overstepped your boundaries when Noah rasps a reply.

“What is it that they say? Time will heal the scars,” he whispers, as though trying to convince himself that it’s true.

You chew the inside of your cheek, hesitating for a moment, before carefully stringing your next words together.

“What was Maia like?” You ask, warily, “I only met her twice and she seemed really nice...”

A ghost of a smile plays across Noah’s lips, “She was...funny, she’d make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. And she could be feisty, Christ, she was feisty, and so bloody bossy. I guess that’s why she was the Hufflepuff and I was the Slytherin because she was happy and free-spirited and she...” Noah bites his lip, as though stifling a laugh, “...she used to cry whenever she listened to Cat Stevens. And she had this thing about collars - they always had to be folded back otherwise they’d annoy her. And photos, she loved photos but she couldn’t take one to save her life. They’d always come out blurry or dark or off centre and she’d always laugh...”

Noah pauses in thought, as though sinking into sepia-stained memories. He allows himself a tiny smile, “Maia always said that I’d be the photographer in the family. That was what she wanted for me. She was going to be a teacher and I was going to be a famous photographer.”

Noah blinks and averts his gaze, turning away from you.

“You were the first person who said that to me, you know,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “That night when Dumbledore...” he trails off, blinking hard. He turns back to you, black eyes shimmering with something you don’t quite recognise, and he’s close enough for you notice for the first time that he has a scar knitted into his left eyebrow, “Everyone else thinks I’m a weirdo or that I ki-“

Noah suddenly cuts himself off, as though in realisation. His expression flickers, anger suddenly shadowing his face, and he turns to glare angrily at you.

“Don’t- Don’t do that!” he snaps, pointing a shaky finger at you, and you frown at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Make me tell you things about...” he blinks, black eyes glinting dangerously, “...about Maia and me and-and make it seem like you care when you don’t! You’re-you’re just like everyone else, like Delores and-and Malfoy and her stupid boyfriend and everyone who didn’t give a shit about Maia when she was alive!”

You try to reach out and pat him but before you can even touch him, Noah flinches, as though he’s expecting you to hit him. Red stains his cheeks in shame as he backs away from you, a distant touch of fear creeping into his eyes. He retreats hurriedly, nearly stumbling out of the door, and you try to follow him when someone catches your wrist.

You glance behind you, finding Troy’s wrist gently pulling you back. He looks both worried and sympathetic as he releases your wrist, fiddling with the paintbrush behind his ear.

“He needs space,” Troy explains, “Space and time. Noah strikes me as the kind of person who likes to keep things bottled up.”

You nod in understanding, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “Do you know who Delores is? Noah mentioned her just now...”

Troy hesitates, as though unsure whether it's his place to say. He concedes after a moment of silent deliberation, “Delores is Noah’s mother. Maia told me about her. They have a...troubled relationship-”

“His mother is a junkie who cares more about her current boyfriend and getting high than she does about her own kids,” Daisy drawls, bluntly, suddenly appearing at your side, “Maia used to ask me to keep an eye on him, make sure the other kids don’t bully him because he gets enough of that from home.”

“Oh...” you murmur, slowly.

“Yeah,” Troy says, staring at his feet.

An uncomfortable silence passes between the three of you as you stand in a circle, processing what had just happened. Daisy leaves as abruptly as she came, stalking across the room to Juniper’s side. Troy has his hands in his pockets, rubbing his shoes together before he smiles and nods at something behind you.

“I think you have a little visitor,” Troy beams. You spin around and grin, crouching down to welcome Nightshade into your arms.

“What are you doing here, B?” You coo, kissing Nightshade on her head. She rubs herself against your leg, tail curling in the air and she purrs and meows at you.

You scratch her ear, fingers grazing against her collar before you spot something folded inside her bell. Frowning, you carefully pull away a small piece of paper and you unfold it, nervously, hoping with all your might it isn’t related to the photo pinned to your investigation board and you stare down at it, taking in the familiar writing and you-

You smile, bite your lip, watching as dozens of tiny, red hearts shudder to life and flutter off the page like butterflies in the spring. You watch as they spell out words in mid air, tracing around invisible letters until they form a coherent sentence that reads, in unmistakable cursive writing;

Will you go to the Ball with me?

You laugh, recognising the style of it all, knowing the only person who is capable at something so sweet and romantic is-

“Will you go to the Ball with me?”

Cedric Diggory.

The heart butterflies scatter, fluttering away as though being carried away in a summer breeze. Cedric standing at the end of the hallway, grinning broadly at you. He strides toward you in smooth movements, one arm bent behind his back, beaming brightly, his blue eyes never straying from yours. A tiny laugh of disbelief slips from your lips as you smile, gazing lovingly at him until he stops right in front of you.

Cedric stretches out the arm bent behind his back, brandishing a cupcake with a giant, red love heart planted on top, holding it to his face as he awaits your answer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, swept away by the dramatics, “Are-are you bribing me with food?”

Cedric chuckles lightly, “I knew that this would be the driving force that would compel you to come with me.”

“You must really want me as your date,” you murmur, a simpering smile curling graciously across your lips.

“More than anything,” Cedric whispers, gazing at you longingly. His blue eyes sparkle like sunlight dancing off the ocean. He’s absolutely mesmerising...

“Okay,” you giggle, suddenly giddy, “I’ll come with you to the Ball.”

Cedric sweeps you into his arms and twirls you around in a hug. You shriek a laugh as he lifts you off your feet, hands buried in his hair as he spins you before placing you gently on your feet. He grins goofily, eyes narrowing on your lips, hungry for a kiss you are all too willing to give him, and you reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck, guiding his lips onto yours until-

“Ahem.”

Troy clears his throat.

Cedric reluctantly pulls away from you as you crane your neck, suddenly remembering that Troy is there.

“I’ll...give you guys some privacy,” Troy mumbles, cheeks pink. He steps back into the Newsroom and closes the door and you turn back to Cedric.

“So...” you start, slowly, “Are we going to...?” You nod at the cupcake still in Cedric's hand. Cedric laughs.

“Oh,” He says, “Right.”

Nightshade meows, gazing up at Cedric with large, green eyes, staring at the cupcake longingly.

“I guess you deserve a treat or two,” Cedric says, crouching down to feed a piece of cupcake. She eats from his hand, carefully licking the tiny crumbs from his palm as Cedric strokes her head.

You beam at Cedric as you watch him affectionately scratch Nightshade, heart swelling like a balloon, suddenly understanding the excitement surrounding the Yule Ball and making a mental note to tell Dean that you won’t need a Plan B anymore...

***

Thursday December 17th

***

You wake up early on the morning of Luke’s birthday, grinning from ear-to-ear.

As per the usual birthday tradition, you had picked out the most ugliest Christmas sweater you could find - complete with itchy wool and an unflattering turtleneck collar - and had wrapped it in embarrassingly bright wrapping paper. You can just imagine Luke’s face when he unwraps it; contorting in both disgust and amusement but holding it to his chest.

The rules were that he had to wear the sweater all day for the entire day, no excuses. Last year, McGonagall had been so unimpressed, she had nearly begged Luke to burn the sweater to a crisp and had threatened to send him to detention for the day if he didn’t.

But that wasn’t the only birthday tradition the Arden siblings had amongst themselves.

They also had to bake the worst tasting birthday cake with whatever they could find and dare each other to eat it. Once, you had baked a cake during the holidays using eggs, tomato sauce, flour, mushrooms, oats, sugar, spearmint and hot sauce and saved it for Luke’s birthday. When you had dared Luke to eat a slice, Luke, never one to turn down a challenge, had devoured the entire thing. He had then spent the next hour bent over a toilet bowl but, really, that was his own doing. You had only dared him to eat one slice, not the whole damn thing.

This year was no different; you have to keep to the Arden tradition and bake a disgusting cake. The problem is, you don’t know where the kitchens are. Last year, you had made it ahead of time and had preserved it using a cooking charm (perhaps that was why Luke reacted so...violently to it) but this year, you had been more preoccupied and less organised.

You make your way down to the Common Room, wondering how you’re going to sneak into the boy's dormitory and steal the Marauders Map when you suddenly run into a tall and firm figure.

“Woah,” you gasp under your breath, staggering backwards. A strong arm catches you by your arm before you can fall flat on your ass.

“Sorry,” George Weasley snickers, “I didn’t see you there; you’re kind of tiny, (Y/N). You’re definitely a tripping hazard.”

You scowl at him and rearrange your clothes, ironing your skirt with the palms of your hands.

“Anyone tell you you’re a class A asshole?”

“On many occasions, actually,” George grins, then shrugs, “Sticks and stones.”

“Whatever works for you,” you snip, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips, “Anyway, what are you doing here so early?”

“We could ask you the same thing,” says Fred, sauntering toward you.

“I’m baking a cake for Luke,” you explain, grinning, “It’s his birthday and we usually bake each other really disgusting cakes and get each other terrible gifts. It’s kind of an Arden thing.”

Fred and George exchange a mischievous glance.

“Sounds like you need to head to the kitchens,” Fred smirks down at you,

“You guys know where it is?” You ask, hopefully, and Fred nods.

“Ready for a private tour?” George asks, grinning devilishly, his eyes shimmering and a thrill courses through you.

You beam at him.

***

The kitchens look like they’ve just crawled out of Hermione’s worst nightmares.

House-elves are everywhere; bustling around the large kitchens, looking harried but content as they buzz around the room. They work around you, occasionally rushing up to you to offer you various sweets and treats, practically imploring you with round orbs to enjoy their homemade delicacies.

You’ve learned that it’s better just to accept the cakes and cookies instead of politely declining, and you enjoy the ones you’ve gathered with Fred and George as you sit in front of a large oven, watching Luke’s cake swell inside of the cake tin.

“I’m surprised it’s actually baking,” George observes, nodding at the oven, “Are we sure that’s even a cake in there?”

“If it has flour, egg, milk and sugar, then it’s a cake,” you state, biting into a cookie and moaning in delight, “These cookies are to die for.”

“Right?” Fred marvels in agreement, “I mean, they’re not as good as Mums but they’re still pretty darn good.”

Your eyes flutter closed and a smile stretches across your lips as you chew languidly on another cookie, savouring the sweet flavour as it oozes onto your tongue. You hum in delight again as you begin licking chocolate off the tips of your fingers.

You open your eyes and catch George watching you with a strange expression on his face. He boldly maintains eye contact, something unfamiliar flashing in his pupils.

Fred glances between the two of you, intrigued, “I’m going to go take some of these to Lee,” he announces, standing and stretching.

You break away from George and watch him as he leaves.

“That was odd,” You note, frowning as the portrait door closes shut.

“Fred is a bit of an oddity anyway,” George shrugs, sliding closer to you, “How’s that cake going?”

You peer through the glass, studying the cake, “Honestly? I don’t know, though I want it to burn so I guess another twenty minutes or so.”

You turn back to George, whose scoffing down an incredible amount of cookies.

“So, you excited for the Ball?” He asks through a mouthful of cookies.

You grin uncontrollably, “Yeah, I am.”

“Found anyone to go with?”

“Yeah,” You slide your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’m going with Cedric.”

George stops cramming cookies into his mouth and swallows, forcing a strained smile onto his lips.

“Oh. That’s...good.”

You shrug meekly, trying not to appear as giddy as you feel, “Yeah. Are you going with anyone?”

“Uh-Harper Shacklebolt.”

You nearly choke on your laughter, “What?! You managed to convince Harper Shacklebolt to leave the Newsroom?”

George flashes a devilish grin, “Well, it wasn’t that hard. I just had to turn up the old Weasley twin charm and she was practically falling for me.”

You roll your eyes, chortling at George’s confidence, “Huh, interesting. Well, you might have some competition. Did you know Harper has a pen pal?”

“Is that so?” George arches an eyebrow, intrigued, “And who would that be?”

“Someone with the initials ‘O.W.’, which could only be-”

“Oliver Wood,” George’s lips break into a smirk, chortles slipping from his lips, “I can’t see that lasting too long. They’re both stubborn and passionate about other things. Wasn’t Harper and Luke a thing for a while?”

You bark a laugh, “Ha. Luke and Harper? Harper is so out of Luke’s league, he’d probably have to pinch his dick to make sure he isn’t dreaming.”

George laughs at that, and the sound travels through you, glowing in your chest and probing your own laughter to spill from your lips.

“Must have just been some silly rumours,” George shrugs, “By the way, I think his cake is burning.”

You turn back to the oven as smoke begins to bleed through the cracks in the oven, filling the air with a horrid, acrid smell.

“Yup, that would be about right,” You chortle, grinning, “He’s going to love it.”

***

Luke is on his way to the library when you spot him.

He’s pacing down the hallway, moving quickly, and you nearly have to break into a sprint just to catch up with him. It’s a little uncharacteristic, given that he usually saunters lazily but in a businesslike manner. Casual, but cool and composed.

Today, he’s in a rush, taking long, deliberate strides and not giving you a chance to catch your breath as you struggle to catch up to him.

He rounds the corner, and you’re about to call out to him when someone else beats you to it, cutting you off with a thick, smokey accent.

“I vas beginning to zink you vere going to flake on me, Lukas!”

Kazimir Volkov strolls up to him, smirk like a sharp dash across his lips. He looks impressive and menacing, but Luke isn’t afraid.

Kaz stops right in front of Luke, eyes flashing with something both dangerous and alluring, as though he’s trying to assert his dominance but is also trying to seduce Luke into relaxation.

Luke stops, glancing around furtively. When he’s certain that no one is looking, Luke’s composure relaxes, steel melting off his shoulders like mercury. He greets Kaz like an old friend, nodding at him and flashing a charming smile. Curious, you press yourself against the wall, peeking out from behind it.

Luke leans forward, speaking in an undertone.

“I thought we agreed to talk in Russian?”

Kaz’s smirk broadens, “Why, you don’t vant anyone knowing zat Hogvart’s Golden Boy is up to no good?”

“Well, yeah,” Luke snips, a little impatiently, “I mean, it’s more about my sister than anything. If she knew…”

“She’d understand,” Kaz murmurs, then shrugs, “But if zat’s what you vant...”

Luke and Kaz begin covering in Russian, speaking rapidly. You furrow your brows, straining to listen to their conversation, but you never learnt Russian and they’re speaking too fast for you to pick up on any familiar sounding words.

Two words pop out from their conversation; you only recognise them because they are repeated by both Kaz and Luke; krov' Niks

Krov Niks…? What the heck is that supposed to mean?

Sighing, you’re just about to leave when Kaz suddenly retrieves something from the inside of his Durmstrang robes. You squint, leaning forward, spotting a small vial with black, glittering liquid inside. It resembles melted obsidian; sunlight bounces off small flecks of silver and gold.

Luke takes the vial and pockets it, nodding at Kaz in gratitude.

You flatten your back against the wall, thinking fast. What kind of potion could Luke possibly want that he couldn’t brew himself? What is he up to? And why does he have to keep it a secret when you’ve never let any secrets stand between the two of you–?

“Lulu!”

You jump, startled by Luke’s surprised voice, a fleeting look of panic flitting across his face. Your mouth flaps open, searching desperately for a good excuse, momentarily forgetting about the gifts in your hand until Luke’s gaze drops to them.

“Oh!” You bleat, nervously, “Oh I was…looking for you because I – uh – it’s your birthday and I wanted to give you your birthday presents…”

“Oh,” Luke says, biting his lip nervously, “Thanks.”

You hand him his sweater and cake and iron your clammy hands on your skirt, “Happy Birthday.”

Luke balances his presents on one hand and ruffles your hair with the other, “Thanks, (Y/N). I can’t wait to try what delicious, home-baked cake you conjured up for me this year.”

“Fred and George helped me whip it up,” you smirk, teasingly.

“Ah,” Luke nods, mirroring your smirk, “Well, then, it’ll be a masterpiece.”

Luke lassos you into a one-armed hug, pulling you to his chest, and for a moment, you forget about that strange vial in Luke’s pocket.

***

Friday, December 18th

***

The last day of term ends with a gruelling test on Antidotes in Potions.

Fortunately, you had studied hard for this test; it was hard to do anything other than study when your best friend is Hermione Granger. But your hard work paid off in the end, earning you full marks from a somewhat sour Snape.

“I see you’ve proven to be worth more than just a pretty face,” Snape has grumbled, peering down into your cauldron after class, “All that time spent with Granger must have rubbed off on you.”

You had screwed your jaw shut in an effort to stop yourself from snapping back at Snape, knowing that your marks and House Points were worth more than any retort you could have possibly sassed back.

“Actually, Professor,” you grit, through a clenched jaw, “I was wondering if you could tell me about a Potion that…looks black with silver and gold speckles in it?”

Professor Snape frowns, evidently in thought. After a moment of silence, Snape speaks in his usual, oily tone, “Nyx’s blood. It’s a difficult potion to brew, used as both a narcotic and a healing potion. It also happens to be illegal in the United Kingdom.” Snape arches a thin, black eyebrow in suspicion, “Why would you want to know about Nyx’s blood?”

“Um…” you begin, cursing yourself for not stringing a proper excuse together, “Um, I–”

“Severus!” Hisses a sharp, accented voice from behind you. Snape’s black eyes travel past you and you follow his line of sight, finding Karkaroff at the end of it. Karkaroff glances between you and Snape.

“You may leave, Arden,” Snape drawls, sourly, dismissing you with a scowl. You nod, slinging your book bag over your shoulder and rushing out of the dungeons, exhaling a sigh of relief.

As they promised, Ron, Harry and Hermione are waiting outside for you.

“So, what did Snape want?” Ron pries, softly patting the top of your head.

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh, “He just wanted to have a word with me about my Potion.”

“How did you think you went with that?” Ron asks, considering you curiously. You shrug.

“Well, I followed everything as per the instructions but it’s Snape so I’m not sure.”

You glance at Harry, who has remained uncharacteristically quiet for most of the day.

“How did you think you went, Harry?” You ask, loud enough to snap him out of his thoughts.

“I botched it,” Harry confesses, though he doesn’t seem too worried about it at all, “I don’t really care, though.”

“Well you should,” Hermione chides, loftily, “Potions is a core subject in our curriculum. If we don’t pass Potions, we lose a huge percentage of our end of year scores.”

“Which means Snape will look bad enough for Dumbledore to finally fire the git,” Ron mutters in your ear, grinning. You snort a laugh and nudge him in the ribs, earning a yelp of surprise.

“You’re trouble, Ronald Weasley,” you murmur back, snickering.

“Arden!”

You pause, Ron, Harry and Hermione stilling, too. A familiar prickle of agitation threads itself beneath your skin as you recognise the familiar voice and wheel around to face him.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” you practically spit, watching as Draco, Crabbe and Goyle saunter towards you. He’s sneering, but there is an indisputable touch of worry in his eyes.

“You,” Draco snips, “Alone without your little guard dogs to defend you.”

His cold, pale eyes dart between Ron and Harry. Ron steps forward.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Ron snarls, darkly, stretching out a protective arm as if to shield you.

“Funny, I didn’t realise you were her keeper,” Draco snaps, venomously, “Are you really that poor you have to start working for your friends, Weasel?”

Crabbe and Goyle snigger gleefully. You roll your eyes and tap Ron’s arm gently.

“I’ll be fine,” you coo, reassuring both Ron and Harry. They nod in unison.

“I’ll take your book bag,” Hermione offers, and you hand her your bag gratefully, “We’ll see you at dinner.”

You nod and watch them leave, forcing a soft smile onto your lips when Harry glances back at you over his shoulder. You turn back to Malfoy moments later, glowering at him.

“Okay, you’ve got me,” you snip, harshly, “Now, tell me what it is that you want?”

Draco glances behind him at Crabbe and Goyle and flaps a dismissive hand at them, silently shooing them off. They stump away, pushing past other students and knocking frightened First Years aside.

When he’s sure it’s just the two of you, Draco, takes a few steps toward you, bowing his head so he can catch your eyes, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“If it has something to do with Noah Underwood, I don’t want to hear it,” you snap, sternly, “The guy is going through enough as it is, he doesn’t need you to keep snooping around like he’s some sort of criminal-”

“-Will you go to the Ball with me?”

Your lashes flutter rapidly as you blink at Draco once, twice, again. His cheeks are beginning to flush an interesting shade of pink.

“What?”

Draco rolls his eyes, “Don’t make me ask you again, Arden, you heard me.”

You stare at him quizzically, bemused by his request. Why would Draco want to ask you to the Ball? Was this a prank? A joke? A trick question or a weird way to humiliate you? You frown at him, thinking hard, raking your eyes across every inch of his face and scrutinising him carefully in the low, flickering lights of the dungeons, mind sprinting through a million theories at once until-

Laughter bubbles up your throat on impulse and spills from your lips, echoing through the Dungeons.

Draco blinks, taken aback.

“Very funny, Malfoy,” you chortle, sighing, and Draco glowers at you.

“This isn’t a joke, Arden!” Draco snaps, angrily.

Your laughter dies on the tip of your tongue when you realise he’s serious and you scoff in cold indignation.

“Why would I want to go to the Ball with you, Draco?” You spit, coldly, venom dripping from your words, “You seem to relish in bullying me and my friends, particularly Harry. So give me one good reason why I should even consider coming with you when all you are is a jealous, spoilt and arrogant bully with a chip on his shoulder.”

Draco’s eyes glimmer like light bouncing off the tip of a blade. He opens his mouth then closes it, working around words he doesn’t want to say, doesn’t want to give a voice to, before he works his jaw and flares his nostrils and twists his lips into a frown.

“Never mind,” he snarls, bitterly, “I shouldn’t have bothered asking someone who parades around Potter like some loyal, little bitch.”

Before you can give him an angry retort, Draco storms away, fists clenched at his sides as though he wants to smash something.

Who are you kidding? You want to smash something.

Perplexed and incensed, you march out of the Dungeons and make your way toward the Great Hall for dinner, wondering what the fuck just happened.

***

After dinner with Hermione, the pair of you wander back to the common room, in which you explain everything that had happened with Malfoy earlier. Hermione had struggled to contain her gleeful giggles as she listened, which was as infuriating as it was embarrassing.

“Malfoy fancies you, (Y/N),” she manages through a bout of giggles, “That’s why he asked you. He’s always had a soft spot for you.”

“Oh don’t be so silly!” You dismiss her with a slap to her shoulder, “Malfoy was probably just mucking around.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said,” you snip, warmth creeping up your neck and spilling across your cheeks, “But Draco Malfoy does not fancy me!”

Hermione bites down on a grin, swallowing the rest of her giggles and slinging an arm across your shoulders, “Whatever you say, (Y/N).”

You and Hermione reach the portrait of the Fat Lady and find her laughing boisterously with her friend, Violet. They both look rather tipsy in their tinsel crowns, faces flushed and words slurred.

“Fairy Lights,” you utter, speaking loudly so that she can hear you over Violet’s loud cackles.

“Aren’t they jus - hic - Magical,” the Fat Lady sighs, and you and Hermione exchanged an amused look as she swings open, admitting you into the common room.

You and Hermione climb through the portrait hole, entering the dim common room and spotting Harry, Ron and Ginny sitting by the fire.

“There they are!” Hermione says, pointing at the two snickering boys and an irritated-looking Ginny.

“Why weren’t you two at Dinner?” You ask, curiously dropping into a seat beside Harry. The two boys don’t seem to hear you, your voice drowned out by their laughter.

“Because - oh shut it, you two - because they both just got rejected by girls they asked to the Ball!” Ginny snaps, shooting a particularly nasty look to Ron and Harry.

You snort a laugh, slapping a hand across your mouth to smother your giggles as Ron glares at Ginny.

“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” Ron grumbles, sourly, cheeks red beneath his freckles.

“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” Hermione snips, smirking bitterly, a touch of sardonic insolence in her tone, “Eloise Midgen starting to look a great deal prettier now isn’t she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you, it serves you right for being so snotty.”

Usually, Ron would snap back with something snappy. But Hermione’s snide remark seems to slide off Ron, who’s staring at the two of you as though a certain realisation had just dawned on him.

“Hermione, (Y/N), you’re both girls-”

“-Oh well spotted,” Hermione barks, coldly.

“You guys can come with us! Hermione can come with me and (Y/N) can go with-“

“I can’t,” you and Hermione both snap at the same time. You both exchange a glance.

“Why not?” Ron says, impatiently, “Look, Harry and I are going to look really stupid if we don’t find partners - especially Harry-“

“I - we - can’t come with you,” Hermione interrupts, blushing furiously, “Because we - I - am already going with someone!”

“No you’re not!” Ron says, scandalously, “You only said that to get rid of Neville!”

“How dare you, Ron?!” Hermione seethes, her eyes glinting dangerously, “How dare you think that, just because it takes you three years to notice, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!”

Ron gaped at her in disbelief, before his shock melted into a grin.

“Ok, Fine, you’re a girl we get it. Now will you come with us?”

Hermione springs to her feet, fists shaking at her sides, “I told you already that I’m going with someone else, and if that’s so hard to believe I suggest that you get over yourself!”

Hermione storms away angrily, stomping up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

“Now look what you’ve done!” You snap, glowering at Ron, “She wasn’t lying!”

Ron shakes his head, “Who is she going with then?”

You fold your arms across your chest, glaring at Ron angrily, “She obviously doesn’t want you to know, so I’m not going to tell you.”

Ron rolls his eyes and sighs, “This is getting stupid, Ginny can go with Harry and (Y/N) can come with me-”

“-No, Ron, weren’t you listening?” You snip, icily, “I’m already going with someone.”

You leap to your feet and march toward the winding staircase, intent on pursuing Hermione.

“Wait!” Harry calls out and you pause, wheeling around to face him, “Who-who are you going with?”

You hesitate, biting down on your bottom lip hard before unfurling it, “Cedric. I’m going with Cedric Diggory.”

Not waiting to see their reaction at this news, you spin around and scale the winding staircase, an uncomfortable warmth soaking your cheeks. Why did Ron have to be such a giant prat? He could be so incredibly mean to Hermione at times and completely oblivious to everything around him.

You come to a stop outside of your dorm and knock gently, cracking your knuckles against the wood of the doors.

“Hermione? Can I come in?” You ask, softly, carefully.

“You’d better,” says Hermione’s voice from behind the door, all traces of her anger having already left her voice, “There’s-there’s something here for you...”

Frowning, you pull open the door, spotting Hermione standing in front of your bed.

“Why? What is it-?”

You pause, your words forming an uncomfortable lump in the middle of your throat.

A strange box is sitting on your bed, practically screaming trouble.

“Someone must have brought it up here,” Hermione deduces, studying the box carefully, “It would have taken at least three owls to send it...”

You recognise the signature style all too quickly and your stomach curls in on itself, heart shuddering and throat constricting like a straw.

After weeks of silence, the mysterious sender is back again and it looks like they’ve upgraded from creepy photo to mysterious box.

You gasp.

Oh.

“What is it?” Hermione asks, mincing hurriedly to your side.

“Oh,” she gasps, “Let’s-Let’s take it out.”

You do, pulling it from the box and holding it out in front of you. Hermione gasps again, raising a hand to cover her mouth.

“It’s beautiful,” she sighs, lips breaking into a smile.

You couldn’t agree more.

The dress is dripping with soft flowers and thin, curling vines, like gold veins running beneath ivory skin. The tulle cascades in soft waves to the floor, flowing through your arms like water. It’s elegant, dainty, feminine and incredibly expensive.

Hurrying to the full-length mirror, you hold the dress to your body, admiring how the style compliments your complexion. White diamonds wink at you from the centre of the dozens of flowers planted on the fabric.

“There’s a note, too!” Hermione exclaims, handing you a folded piece of parchment. You carefully take the letter from her outstretched hand, unfolding it with a smile.

My Dearest Belle Fiore,

Your mother once said that you were the ‘fiore of her life’, and she was right. You were the fiore of her life, and I have watched you blossom into the beautiful rose you are today. I couldn’t be more proud of the young woman you have become, and I will always be proud of you until my dying breath.

I know your mother would want you to wear this to your first ball; it was her wedding dress. But now, it’s yours, and I’ll know you’ll treasure it as much as the beloved bracelet she bestowed to you.

I wish I could see you in it but, unfortunately, the Prophet demands my time and energy. But I know you will be the most beautiful fiore in the entire garden, with or without this dress.

I love you now and always,

Papa

You blink through tears, clutching the letter tightly in your hands.

Your mother had worn this dress; her hair had flowed over it, her skin had warmed the delicate fabric and her wild and boundless heart - that heart that could swallow the world - had hummed beneath it like a hummingbird in her chest.

You clutch the dress a little tighter, embracing it, feeling a new kind of warmth gush through you like butterbeer and sunlight. Its as though your mother is hugging you back, holding you to her chest so you can listen to her hummingbird heart one last time.

In that moment, it’s as though your mother is alive again.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @theseusscamandcr @depressed-octopods-art @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl117 @asofslytherin @seunlight @thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018 @polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves @siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @randomoutsiders @smolldork @danidomm @xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood @reimiwritrs @tchalland @lucifersnipnips @ notorious-fiction @peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness @reducto-bitch

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spacejew · 5 years ago

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oops accidental personal post I guess

It's weird that I almost feel the need to go here to personal blog again because of a handful of irl friends following what was supposed to be a private personal Twitter in theory, just for like, idk, internet strangers and friends I made online not those imported from meatspace. Also those character limits... Suffocating.

Anyways yeah things are kinda stable but dissapointing lifewise? I'm definitely in a rut and stuck somewhere I'm desperately trying to get out of. Also like. idk. Gender shit. I think I really fucked myself over hard when I made the decision a few years back to conviously bottle up all my dysphoria and trans feelings and bury them and repress them hard and just live as a very gay and feminine bi boy and like. hm. I think I've been happy since? But im thinking now that maybe. Because that's still a part of my psyche that haunts me every day. I might actually have been mildly depressed this whole time and like, still struggling to make important life decisions because of the anxiety of that. Idk. Maybe if I got a therapist and realistic attention to that all those years ago and it turned out to be very real n legit and i got to make tough choices and live my truth, I would be equipped now to actually be joyful and able to fully focus on hard work and taking risks and putting myself out there and being successful and shit. Idk idk idk. I just have to wonder if all this time I've actually been quite unhappy and filling the void with dumb shit and a good deal of dissociation and complacency. Idk. what I'm saying is maybe I made a big mistake there lmao and could've started transitioning, if that's right for me, 4-7 years ago maybe, who knows. Haha so fun. Fuck me. Big Regrets, lads. But also I still don't know if that's right. Which probs means it is who am I kidding. Oof. But it's ok life is a journey I'm full of wise shit and I know it's not the end of the world. It just kinda. Makes me so sad on behalf of the old me who would cry so much because of dysphoria and living in this body in this life. She knew. I don't know why I buried her alive like that. Anyways.

I spent all year struggling to make an animated short (which ended up being kinda long tbh like 10 minutes?) by myself mostly, just me and my mental blocks and executive dysfunction and shit, but I was v passionate about it and worked hard and got to actually bring a whole vision to life, with basically nobody to tell me what to do, just give me feedback that I wasn't obligated to follow. It came out pretty nice and I'm very happy that I got to tell exactly the story I wanted and try a cool new look and I just wish I gave myself more time to work on the actual animation part but I put my heart and endless weeks and months of refinement into the storyboarding and script and every little detail and I really feel accomplished and like it paid off -- and I even got to do a private screening at my summer camp job that I was called in to do one more time at the last minute right when I finished my film, it was a miracle and so perfect, everyone cried and truly loved it and felt touched by it. And then I went to animation festivals! And all this cool shit! But... I haven't been able to figure out a public screening thing yet. And I feel like all my excitement is gone now. And I really wanted to polish the look and some backgrounds a little, just some very quick rerendering and comp, but. I feel like too much time has passed, i just feel dissapointed. I haven't put it online yet cause I haven't done my public screening, cause of my stupid anxiety about little details and overall idk imposter syndrome I guwss I feel more ashamed of it than proud of it even tho it's probably good, and like I feel that everyone was excited to support me but probably nobody cares anymore.

Basically I had all the wind taken out of my sails. Oh and right when I was trying to get it off the ground I guess and push through, my grandma died. I'm so heartbroken I loved her so fucking much and. She never got to see the film cause of my stupid bullshit. I feel so bad about that. So so bad. Ugh. And it's a film very very hilariously blatantly directly based on me and my feelings and my real family history, ultimately besides other main themes it's about talking to your grandparents and family about the past and your current feelings. And in it the main character, a girl, cough cough even though it's basically me, cough cough go figure, gender shit, anyways the climax is her going back in time to talk to her great grandma, and it's very emotional and my best friend of like almost 10 years now composed and recording a music for that scene for me. And now when I eventually screen this, my entire family and also myself is gonna get torn to shreds by this scene more than intended because my own fucking grandma, who I was excited to show this film to more than anyone on earth, passed so unexpectedly without seeing it. Fuck. Why didn't I send it to her when she was in the hospital? Obviously cause if I did that that would make it real and she wouldn't get better and all I do is live in denial. Ugh. Anyways yeah. The point is I'm stagnant and in a rut right now and just want to move forward and focus on making new work and just get a real career relevant job already. Tough year hit a well needed high and now petering off back into misery. Not to be dramatic. I'm ok tbh I have a part time I'm slowly getting sick of and a loving supportive partner and some very good friends, tho not as many as I used to see regularly and that's kinda sad too. That's your 20s babey.

I just need to move on and make big changes. My pattern rn is like. Work fri-sun, if I'm lucky I get to hang out with friends or lovers, usually at least with my partner. on monday I recover from working. on tuesday I have dnd and usually get some stuff done but honestly just catch up on warframe with my clan friends. wednesday my partner and I got to the park and library for half the day and eat and draw and talk. on thursday I mentally prepare for work again and usually we go out to play another roleplaying game with her roommates friends. a lot of that free time that's been left unmentioned is spent being over at bae's sometimes so I don't have the ability to get much work done. Lately I've spent most of my time planning a dnd campaign which is fun but also too stressful on account of obviously I'm not playing it yet so like what's the point, sorry friends who have patiently waited for months for me to be ready to start the game for them. And also like. Yeah idk. just sad and confused and resting my weary heart and body after a very rough month after my grandma passed. But! I did accomplish a very crazy deep cleaning of my room. I threw out 14 bags of shit at the least. I wish I weighed it all, it was a lot. I feel so much more organized and cleansed from that. For the record I didn't have any trash in my room, nor was it every a mess. Just every single cabinet and drawer was crammed full of stuff and I guess I hoarded a lot of shit. I was able to throw away a lot of things I held on to be cause of sentimentality and I'm proud of myself for growing that way. So like. Idk. It's not all bad, baby steps. I still feel like I'm constantly improving as a person! I'm positive, optimistic. Just tired, anxious, and feel bad.

Also I finally got a new phone and because of my hubris I dropped it without a case and it shattered only two weeks in. The day I was gonna buy a case. But it's ok. Story of my life I guess. I can't keep everything pristine and polished forever, one day shit falls and breaks but it's still usable. It has character.

I wasn't expecting to dump everything like this, sorry yall. Thanks for reading I guess. Also I forgot how to do a read more on mobile lol sorry

#personal #capn whitey #tw death #i guess

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destielthedeathofme · 6 years ago

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SIZZLE SIZZLE

Prompt: The picture because NO ONE HITS ME UP WITH PROMPTS

Author: @destielthedeathofme

Pairing: Dean x Cas and Sam × Gabe

Tags: Customer! Cas Waiter! Dean Fluff oneshot blahblahblah. Ooh some homophobia sorry

Summary: After nearly 10 years of avoiding his family. Castiel has to attend Alfie's 18th birthday. But after a new waiter spices things up, maybe it'll turn out for the better.

A/n: SO FUCKING PISSED AT TUMBLR RN THE FIRST TIME I POSTED THIS THE ENTIRE THING WASN'T THERE AND I COULDN'T FIND IT IN MY DRAFTS SO I REWROTE THIS SHIT. UGHHHH.

~♡~

Castiel tugged at his collar as he rehearsed in his head what he was going to say. Or rather not say. He wasn't going to tell his brothers about art school. Definitely not going to mention his relationships. Or the tattoo. He basically wasn't going to say anything and just smile and wave as he liked to put it.

The dinner was going to be terrible but he was going for Alfie, it's the least he could do for leaving his brother with Michael. Alfie was always nice to Castiel and unlike him he listened to his brothers. Castiel however left the night he turned 18 and never looked back.

Castiel opened the door to Crowley's and rolled his eyes. Dim lit, the place had an orchestra in nearly every corner and bunch of snobby rich people trying to "out rich" each other. He glanced down at his suit and trenchcoat. Michael definitely wouldn't approve. Not that he needed it anyway.

Castiel looked around the room but saw no sign of his brothers. Soon he went up to the counter and asked for their registration. His brothers had booked the entire top floor of the hotel. All for a birthday dinner. His brothers weren't wasting any time spending all of the fortune their father left.

Castiel hadn't touched his. He didn't know what to do with it. Paying for art school was done through some paintings he drew that sold for enough money.

Castiel's feet tapped on the marble steps as he made his way upstairs. Reaching the top of the room his eyes widened at the place. There were two chandeliers taking up the ceiling. And all across the walls were angles. His family was very religious and angels were a common theme growing up. He remembered some from church. Castiel was named after the Angel of Thursday.

He saw Gabe walking towards him and smiled.

Gabriel pulled him into a hug. His sugar obsessed older brother was the only one Castiel remained in contact with.

"How's it going Cassie?," He said sucking loudly in his lollipop.

Castiel winced at the horrible nickname

" I'm fine and I hope you are as well. How's Sam?" Sam was Gabe's boyfriend and the complete opposite of him. Castiel loved Sam, he was the brother he never had.

But Sam was a secret only he and Alfie knew. As much as Gabe loved Sam he wanted to keep the family together. So Sam would stay a secret which had been decided a long time ago.

"Sam's great, I'm great..his brother is also pretty great..." Gabe said wiggling his eyebrows.

"I already told you, I don't need to drag someone into my life right now." Cas replied rolling his eyes.

"Anyways where is everyone?" He asked searching the room. He glanced at his watch it was almost 7. Michael was never late.

"Luci's running late, Michael's pissed, Raphael doesn't care, and Alfie wishes he wasn't related to us. So everything's great!" Gabe said cheerfully

"Why on Earth would Michael let Lucifer be in charge of driving them?"

"Alfie crashed the car last week so that's the only way really."

Before Cas could ask Gabe to elaborate. Thundering footsteps filled the hall.

Cas had to try really hard to not laugh at the sight before him.

Michael was drenched with a sheepish Lucifer in tow. Alfie was trying not to smile and Raphael looked as distant as ever. Even though he could have sworn he saw a smile.

Michael morphed his face into the constipated smile he usually had and asked

"I hope you're well Castiel."

"Yeah you too." Cas said not wanting to talk to him.

He brushed past his brother and walked to Alfie who was standing there awkwardly.

"Hey Alfie how are you?" He asked smiling softly.

"I'm good Cas, what about you?" Alfie said.

"Fine as well." To which Alfie pulled Castiel into a tight hug. Castiel was surprised at his strength. He definitely was getting older.

Castiel pulled out of his trenchcoat paintbrushes and handed them to Alfie," I hope you still like to paint." He said smiling

Alfie's face lit up. "Of course! Thanks you so much Cas."

Michael cleared his throat,"Then let's eat shall we?"

As if on cue, a waiter entered the hall. Castiel turned to face him and nearly fainted.

The man had almond colored hair and stubble along his jaw. He was muscular but not bulky and definitely taller than Castiel. His green eyes bore into Cas as he obviously hated it here. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable with his setting. His lips were so pink that it took all of Castiel's will power not to leap across the room.

Castiel carefully walked to his seat feeling very lightheaded. Thankfully he sat down next to Alfie and Gabe.

"Hey y'all the names Dean and I'll be your server today." His voice sounded like honey to Castiel.

He passed out menus and whipped out a note pad.

"So what'll y'all have to drink?" He asked looking expectantly at Castiel.

Castiel was surprised at his informality. Dean didn't pay attention to any of that formality it seemed.

"Well I'll take a shirley temple,Dean," Gabe said.

Castiel had a killer headache. Whiskey it is. "I'll take a whiskey," he said. He didn't know why but Dean smirked at that.

Alfie ordered a shirley temple as well. While the rest of his brothers ordered white wine.

Dean bit his lip while writing the drinks down.

Castiel almost let out a moan. Damn that was hot. His face immediately turned pink when Dean looked at him smirking.

After they ordered food and Cas drooled over Dean some more. Michael cleared his throat.

"So do you have any change of heart regarding certain beliefs?"

Cas stared at him coldly," No and I never will Michael."

The entire table tensed at the conversation.

Familiar footsteps were heard once again. Damn he really did have impeccable timing.

Dean handed Cas his plate first. "Careful it's hot too." He said with a signature smirk.

"Too?"

Dean proceeded to touch Castiel's shoulder and make a sizzling sound.

The next few minutes were chaos.

Castiel blushed so hard he was radiating heat.

Michael choked on his wine.

Lucifer spit out his wine all over Michael.

Raphael laughed.

Gabriel loudly declared," THAT'S MY BOY."

Alfie once again hid his smile.

Dean made the call me sign while giving Castiel a napkin with his number on it.

After that incident Michael, Lucifer and Raphael left very quickly.

Gabriel offered to drop Alfie.

Gabriel then leaned over and said, "By the way that's Sam's brother."

Castiel replied," Jesus Gabe you could have mentioned that he's hot!"

Gabriel laughed," So should I tell him that you'll meet him tomorrow?"

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #castiel #sam winchester #cas #spnfamily #i love him #destiel #sabriel #oneshot #fluff #writing prompts #destielthedeathofme

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cl-oelia · 6 years ago

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3/19

Today’s session was a bit all over the place so bear with me:

- I thanked her for being chill about my being gay and told her how relieved and happy I felt for the couple days after. She said of course, that I’m safe to talk about and process it there. We talked a little bit about how coming out felt, and I hadn’t really considered that I need to do some real exploration of what I want out of this identity that I have. I know that I’m okay with her knowing and I can foresee myself coming out soon-ish at school/work and that my family will have to wait until the last possible moment. But also like, what do I want in terms of acting on this? How do I want to present myself (like rn I’d be super cool just screaming I’m Gay into a megaphone 24/7) and how do I actually perceive my own identity (like the fear of being the “predatory lesbian- also, does lesbian even fit? Maybe right now, but it’s not impossible that it could change and I need to figure out if I’m okay with that possibility). Much to reflect on. She’s so cool and knows so much about this why didn’t she advertise that what the fuck

- I mentioned the all-nighter on Thursday but I still can’t really bring myself to go into too much detail about what exactly keeps me up at night. It still feels too fucked up. And messy. I need to start journaling again.

- Talked about the violent mood drop on Friday, how that brought back suicidal ideation harder than it has been lately. She made a good point that it might also have seemed more intense because I was feeling so good in the days before. I was able to kind of spit out the suicidal ideation and what that looks like for me. I told her my Big Fear, which felt relieving. I ALMOST got misty but kept it together (even tho I know she wants me to cry).

- After talking through safety plan ideas and stuff, she offered to see me twice/week if I felt like I needed it. And I know she meant it. I’ll probably never be able to bring myself to ask for that but it was really reassuring. She even kind of walked me through how to do that “just text me and say ____,” which helps a TON with the anxiety.

- Somehow we got into talking about my hatred of people walking behind me. She called it “textbook” trauma symptoms and encouraged me to use labels for what happened. Makes me anxious as hell but loved that sweet sweet validation. She also called me a victim for like the third or fourth time today and honestly idk why it’s affecting me at all. Maybe just because I don’t wanna actually face that.

-OH my god I forgot to add that as I was leaving we noticed an EMT truck parked out front. After I walked out I was followed by another girl who was walking in between two firefighters, and a cop, I’m pretty sure from the office next to hers. It didn’t seem like any 911 kind of medical emergency so it seems like maybe she was also actively suicidal? It was sad to see. I don’t wanna get to that place again.

- I’m exhausted. I need a nap bye

#p #therapy

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papipopsicle · 6 years ago

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AFTERTASTE PART TWO

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether friendship and can co-exist without causing conflict. Including my OC’s Flick & Cherry, a lesbian couple and best friends of Y/N. Set Pre-Veronica.

Warnings: FWB, swearing, mentions of sex and oral but no actual smut

Words: 3.9K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

One week passed with nothing said between the two best friends. Whilst their teasing way of life carried on, they completely avoided the subject matter of last Friday night. Saturday morning shone through the parted curtains of Y/N's grey and pink bedroom, waking the pair from their dreamy states, and a meaningful conversation began as quickly as it ended.

Y/N let out a groan and tightly shut her eyes after daring to open them, and suddenly a soft hand, that didn't belong to her, unwrapped itself from her stomach. After scrunching her brows together in confusion, the girl processed the sight her eyes caught; the view of her window and dressing table blocked by bare skin. She sighed and nestled into the warmth of a broad chest, the soft arm lacing back around her waist as a groggy voice cut through the air, "Morning, Tiger."

She groaned again in response, not having the energy to speak, and Archie couldn't stop the chuckle falling from his lips at that. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and Y/N was glad at that moment that her head was buried in his chest, because the confidence she had last night wore off like a Cinderella spell and now she was sure her cheeks matched two cherry tomatoes.

"You feeling all right?" The redhead asked, and finally Y/N raised her head to meet his eyes, smiling at the calming effect they had on her. She simply nodded, her hand that wasn't trapped under the pillow now drawing patterns on his upper arm. Archie took this as a chance to ask another question in his gravely morning voice she wouldn't admit she found a little too attractive, "Wanna talk about last night?"

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on his arm and her fingers, searching her mind for the right words to a difficult answer. She yawned and nodded once more, flicking back to the attitude only he could bring out of her, "It was fun, Andrews, I like that side of you."

"What's wrong with the other side of me?" The boy pouted watching her from above as her hand now lay flat against his chest and she wriggled to lie on her side fully.

She smirked up at him devilishly, "Absolutely nothing, pretty boy."

"You have absolutely no idea what kind of affect you have on me, little girl." He matched her smirk and tightened his grip on her waist to bring her the slightest bit closer, her side of the bed left completely vacant.

"You need to stop calling me that." Y/N grumbled slapping his chest lightly, and Archie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. She rolled her eyes at his stupidly adorable face, "It makes my mind think dirty things, dirtier than last night. Things that best friends probably shouldn't think about each other."

He was quiet for a while after that, but then a thought popped into his mind like a bubble and his smile returned. "What if," he began, morning voice wearing off much to the girls dismay, "we're something more than friends? I know you don't wanna be in a relationship right now and you know I'm the same, but what if we're something in between?"

"Friends with benefits?" She perked up and pondered for a moment before her grin suddenly mirrored his, "Okay, I'm in. Just us plus sex, like ice cream and extra sprinkles."

Archie chuckled, "Exactly. Do you have any ground rules? You know, so if we do this it actually works."

"No fucking other people, that's just rude." The petite girl said almost instantly. He rolled onto his back as she spoke and Y/N rest her cheek against his chest as she continued, "And we keep it a secret as best we can. If we decide to tell anyone then give the other person a heads up first or straight after. You got any?"

"How about saying no at any time is perfectly fine? Neither of us should feel forced to do something if we aren't comfortable with it. And it can be stopped at anytime, circumstances don't matter." Archie said with a kind smile, one arm running up and down her back as the other absentmindedly played with her hair.

Y/N grinned, "You've got yourself a deal there."

"So this is actually happening?" The redhead asked almost not believing what had just been agreed to him and his best friend of eight years.

"Yep," She popped the 'p' and snuggled back into his chest, one leg wrapping around his lower torso and an arm lightly draped over his muscular chest, "can we go back to bed for a bit? I don't care what the time is, it's too early to get up."

Now it was his turn to grin, "Of course, Tiger."

And just like that, their deal was struck.

It was the norm for people to comment on how close Y/N and Archie were, but by now the entire school (teachers included) could predict the response of 'we're just friends' even after being caught in each other's arms. Their change in behaviour wasn't picked up by anyone, although when the short y/h/c girl suddenly squeaked out a moan she'd been trying so hard to hold back, sat next to Archie late Thursday evening with the usual suspects surrounding them at Pop's, it raised a few eyebrows.

The weekend rolled around soon enough, and after spending all of Saturday procrastinating and finally getting some work done in the evening, Y/N felt it was only necessary to have a well-earned day off. She planned to stay in bed for the evening, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, cookies on hand whilst Agent Carter ran on repeat from her near-dead laptop. But, those plans were smashed to smithereens when her sister decided that would be the day to invite half of her year over and drink from dawn until dusk.

Coincidentally, their parents had gone down to San Antonio to visit Y/D's brother since his niece had just gone into labour with a baby boy on the way.

Once again, this left Y/S in charge of her younger sister, meaning whatever happens over the two days stays between them and their parents would get the story of lounging around trying to annoy each other all weekend. Y/N had spent the morning with Cheryl at the gym, afternoon with Betty baking cookies and lounging in her room, and now, she didn't know what to do with herself.

She lay on her stomach in bed, scrolling through Instagram whilst her legs kicked at the air in boredom. Another half an hour past until the banging of EDM and thoughts of drunk teenagers trashing the house became enough to send her wild. With it now being Spring Break too, nothing would stop that party until everyone of them were passed out somewhere. Y/N groaned to herself and grabbed her pink backpack, shoving a few necessities in it and picking up her phone.

Tiger 😸💞 Guessing you're awake/home rn?? x

Flame Crotch 🔥 Ofc I am I don't have a social life, you wanna come over? x

Tiger 😸💞 Yep, Y/S has terrible taste in music and I'm pretty sure if I don't make a break for it now I'll be dragged into a very non-consensual orgy :/

Y/N slid her bomber jacket on and picked up her bag; she wore a bubblegum plaid skirt with a ribbed cream turtleneck jumper tucked in and a pair of grey ankle boots. Her hair had been pulled up into a messy bun, and nothing but freckles covered her skin. She and Betty decided to dress all cutesy for an afternoon of baking, and Y/N was sure Archie would appreciate her short schoolgirl-esque outfit too.

The girl let herself out through her side door, luckily an unknown area to party-goers, and locked it after leaving. With her backpack slung over one shoulder, Y/N went incognito through her own garden and avoided the gaze of intoxicated minors. She crossed the quiet street and sent two soft knocks to the door of 113 Elm Street.

Silenced enveloped her until it was shattered by rushed footsteps, barking and a whole lot of indistinct clatter before the door was answered a minute later by the eldest Andrews. He put his body between the door and the free space created by it being opened, not looking too comfortable in the position as he attempted to keep Vegas from attacking the girl with slobbery wet kisses.

"Hey Freddo, heya Vegas buddy." Y/N beamed, and before he knew it the Labrador had broken free to be fussed over. Although she grew up with cats and was therefore the designated 'crazy cat lady' of her clique, the petite girl adored all animals, especially her best friend's 11 year old dog who was still a 2 month old puppy at heart.

"Thought you would've had a key made by now, kid." Fred greeted the girl with a side-hug and chuckled to himself, stepping aside and pulling the bundle of energy with him so she could step through the door.

"Must've left it at home." She shrugged and sent him a lop-sided grin mirroring Vegas's current expression.

Then, a loud crash from upstairs startled the two, and a few seconds later Archie stumbled out of his room whilst fumbling to get his shirt over his broad shoulders.

Y/N furrowed her brows, but happily drank in her friend's perfectly disheveled appearance, she let her head rest on the railings of the stairs and peered up at him, "Did you just fall off your bed?"

"N-no. Definitely not." Archie responded almost instantly, his lack of hesitation proving the statement to be false. Y/N simply shook her head and followed the boy back up to where the noise had come from just moments ago. She slung her bag onto the floor nearest his mess of a wardrobe, the patch being claimed as her spot whenever she came over.

Y/N huffed, and in one step she face planted the boy's unmade bed, finding conflicting emotions within the musky smell of his duvet that usually only brought her comfort. Archie chuckled dryly, mimicking her movements to flop down next to her with their noses now touching, "What's up, Tiger?"

"Nothing." The girl pouted a little but it soon softened into a smile when she noticed his frown, she lifted her head ever so slightly and pressed a light kiss to the bridge of his nose. "I'm just happy, full stop."

"So..," Archie mimicked her movements and quickly pecked her nose before continuing, "what's made your nonexistent heart suddenly start beating?"

Y/N shrugged for the second time that day and answered simply, "Everything. There's been no fall-outs with the girls, Josie hasn't said anything to me recently, my cousin's baby boy is perfect and happy and healthy, and then there's you, obviously. You, Archibald Andrews, on top of all the good that's happening right now, you're what makes me the happiest."

"Ah, we're playing this game now?" He asked with a smirk, one hand finding its way to her shoulder and he began to twirl strands of hair between his fingers aimlessly. "Well, I'm sure your main reason for coming over here was to see Vegas and that I was just an afterthought, but you're what makes me the happiest too."

This wasn't exactly a game, more like a reoccurring conversation over the past ten years. At their brightest, darkest or most boring moments throughout their lives, the answer to whatever made them the happiest would always be each other. It made no sense most of the time, and was just a strange little phrase to the outside world, but to them it was a promise.

Out of the blue, the girl shot up. Archie jumped up at her sudden movement, but watched curiously as she rearranged herself to sit cross-legged with her head in her hands. "Written anything new recently?" She asked hopefully, then before he could answer she added, "Don't you dare say no, your guitar's not in its case and your good luck pen's on an open page of Lola. I don't need to be Sherlock to see that you were writing before I arrived."

The redhead rolled his eyes playfully at her antics and reached for his lyric book, easily handing it to her. He normally didn't share his songs with anyone, but in the sweetest way possible Y/N would pry it out of him eventually so there wasn't any use fighting her, not that he would keep it hidden from her for long anyway. Archie stood to grab his guitar before sitting at the side of his bed, propping the instrument up against himself and looking back at the girl as a smile made its way to her face. He watched for a moment, mesmerised by her concentration on his work; the way her lips quirked up at the lines she liked, or the pout that appeared when she couldn't work out what something meant due to his scrawled handwriting.

The redhead finally decided to interrupt her thoughts, "It's not finished yet, and I'll probably change a few things, but this is what I've got so far- and before you ask, I'll tell you what it's about after you've heard it."

(song is When You Can't Sleep At Night by Of Mice and Men)

He began strumming his guitar and settled for a mellowed rhythm, and just as he began to sing Y/N leant back against the wall with her eyes closed to fully appreciate the lyrics she read just moments ago.

He breathed in deeply, "Here in this world I'm awaked with mistakes, but it's love that keeps fuelling me, fuelling me."

"Pretty little lady with the swollen eyes, would you show them to me? I know I'm not that perfect, but you stay awhile, baby, then you will see."

There was a pause, and Y/N opened her eyes to see Archie with his closed, deep in thought as he began to sing the next few lines, "Miles away I can still feel you, lay your head down on my embrace, my embrace. Far away."

"Pretty little lady with the swollen eyes, would you show them to me? I know I'm not that perfect, but you stay awhile, baby, then you will see."

"Don't give up, baby. I know that it's shaky. Just let love consume us, consume us..."

As she realised the song was coming to an end, Y/N quietly sang along matching the boy's pitch perfectly, "Here in this world I'm awaked with mistakes, but it's love that keeps fuelling me, fuelling me to love you."

"Miles away I can still feel you, lay your head down on my embrace, be not afraid to love me."

Archie repeated the chorus one last time and the song finished as the last strum of his guitar ricocheted through the room. A moment of silence past before the petite girl let out a gleeful squeal and began clapping to hide the fact that hearing him sing such reassuring lyrics brought tears to her eyes.

"That was beautiful, Arch. Like I know I say that every time you play me something new, because it's true, but that may just be one of my new favourites." Y/N sighed contently, "So, what's it about then?"

The redhead placed his guitar back down and leaned back against the headrest of his bed to get comfy, but this only prompted his best friend to lean against him. So, there was a moment of awkward fumbling as they shifted to get themselves comfortable, but in the end Archie settled with his arm protectively around her as she lay against his chest with her legs over his.

"It's about everything really." He admitted with a hidden but faltering smile, "Life isn't perfect or the best in any way, it can get really fucking rough at times, but love and positivity will always beat that. All that cliché kinda mushy stuff. The bond between family or two people who love each other can overcome any of those difficult obstacles. Originally, I wrote it as a sort of lullaby, it's been ripped out of Lola and rewritten so many times I couldn't ever get it right. This is so stupid- I was meant to send it to you last year after what happened, because I knew you were having trouble sleeping, but something stopped me every single time."

Y/N didn't respond straight away, she snuggled into his chest more whilst processing the words. Her best friend didn't find confidence in his work easily, but she never saw anything but pure talent in its rawest form. The fact that he wrote for and about her was something she treasured, it meant the world to her that he'd spent so long trying to find the right words to help her.

"I think it's perfect just as it is, I might be a year late hearing it, but I love it just as much." She sniffled, using the sleeves of her jumper to wipe away her tears. Archie's expression changed in a split second when he heard the noise; before he was frowning, thinking he'd left it too late to show her that he was there for her, but now he was just downright confused and concerned.

Sniffling again, Y/N twisted in his arm and raised her head ever so slightly, pressing her lips against hers softly. It was completely unadulterated, only lasting a few seconds before she pulled away with a smile.

"I loved it." She affirmed, gazing up into his doe eyes with her wide ones as he relaxed instantly with the words. And with that, she wrapped her arms around his torso in a bear hug and let her head rest on his shoulder as he rubbed her back on instinct.

Archie shook his head and chuckled slightly at his own thoughts, "You know, I lied, I did fall over before, and it hurt real bad, I'll probably have a bruise in the morning."

This got the girl's attention, rather unintentionally though. He just wanted to hear the laugh that made his stomach do somersaults again, but the devil on Y/N's shoulder had different ideas. She eagerly sat back up, to the side of Archie this time, with her legs over his and her arms around his neck, then she grinned out the most wicked of smiles.

"Can I add to those bruises?" She temped, one hand weaving its way into his bright hair as the other settled on his shoulder.

Archie groaned in response, his head falling back ever so slightly, "How the fuck do you do that?"

"Do what?" The small girl asked innocently, her bottom lip jutting as she batted her eyelashes. She knew exactly what he meant, but needed the satisfaction of hearing the words leave his lips.

Archie held her by the shoulders in his tight grip, staring at her with darkened eyes now, "How the fuck do you go from the girl I play GTA with three days straight without showering to the sexy little girl you are right now? It's driving me insane, you parade around in these tiny mini skirts. I can't cope, you're meant to be my best friend but all I can think about is fucking you 'til the sun comes up."

"I can safely say I want nothing more than that right this second, and I'm not saying I'd stop you either. But from what I know, I'm not exactly quiet and it would be oh so unfortunate if your dad walked in to see you neck deep in my pussy, now wouldn't it? Because that would end this before it's even begun, and that's the last thing I want to happen." Y/N all but whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his neck making him tighten his grip on her.

"Fine." He sighed and knew she was right, but that didn't mean he was alright with it. "Want a top to sleep in, Tiger?" The redhead asked in vein, by now he knew if the option was ever there she'd take his shirt over anything. He never got why exactly, but went along with it anyways.

Y/N chuckled, tapping his chest a couple times before leaning against the wall and away from the warmth of his body. She knew he wasn't happy with the situation, and truth be told neither was she, but knowing his unsettled reaction was only a joke made her feel safe. She trusted him with everything.

The girl smiled up at him as he began to get off the bed, predicting her next words before they'd even left her lips, "Yours, pretty please."

Seconds later, Y/N sat up and drew her knees to her chest, only to have Archie throw a black t-shirt in her face. It was one he didn't wear very often, since helping his dad and going to the gym more now meant it showed more abs and biceps than it covered. But that wouldn't stop it from drowning the petite girl like all of his tops.

She stood up and grabbed her bag with the t-shirt in her other hand, and turned to Archie one last time, "I'mma go change into this, could you close the curtains? You know, so if anything does happen, Betty doesn't find out about our little agreement by randomly looking out of her window."

So, that's exactly what they did. Y/N changed out of her cute ensemble and into the boy's shirt, and as predicted, it sat just on her thighs. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, smiling with satisfaction at her fresher appearance. Taking off her underwear, she put on a pair of Calvin Klein's and packed everything back away again. With one last look in the mirror, the girl unlocked the bathroom door and made her way back to Archie's room.

The sight she was greeted it made her core twist and tighten, but she ignored that and focused on putting her bag back down. Archie had been leaning against his desk scrolling through something on his phone, in nothing but his boxers. It was something only two other people had been graced with, one of those being his father and the other Betty through the safety of her window. He was hot, and the Y/L/N girl couldn't stop her mind from flashing images of him on his knees, tufts of orange hair gripped in her hand as he brought her to the brink of cumming over and over again until she was screaming his name.

Reluctantly, she pushed those thoughts aside for another night and plonked herself down on his bed again. The night went on for hours as they talked about everything from alien invasions to the newest Stranger Things episode, and had a small game of would you rather somewhere in-between. But now, around three in the morning, Y/N was fast asleep curled up against the wall with Archie closely behind her in his own happy little dream.

It was nothing less than bliss.

PART THREE

#archie andrews #archie imagine #archie smut #archie andrews smut #archie andrews fluff #archie andrews fic #riverdale imagines #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale smut #riverdale fandom #archie x reader #riverdale fluff #fred andrews #betty cooper #archie

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higgins5 · 6 years ago

Text

Tag game

Oof, this is so so late, but I am doing it! And thank you to the lovely @foxsoulcourt for tagging me!

LAST

drink: Water, we are being healthy children here

phone call: My District Manager at work to discuss my transfer

text message: One of my best friends about his terrible life choices (jk but really binge watching a show for 14 hours straight? Boy get to sleep!)

song you listened to: I’m Over You by Bryan James (it may or may not have been on loop for a while)

time you cried: Last Thursday

EVER

dated someone twice: Haha, yep. Didn’t work out, but we’re still friends

kissed someone and regretted it: Not yet!

been cheated on: Unfortunately

lost someone special: I think we all have, but such is life

gotten drunk and thrown up: Oh god no

fave colors? Sea green, storm gray, oh I can’t believe i almost forgot! Really any deep blue or purple, like how the night sky gets just before it’s almost black

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE I?

made new friends: Multiple, and i am so greatly for all of the lovely people who have graced my life

fallen out of love: Not so much people. But things I believed I loved turned a little false, yes

laughed until you cried: Gosh, all the time. It’s awful, I call it my seal laugh because I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe and i’m just doubled over hitting a table or my leg to express my joy because that’s all I can do

found out someone was talking about you: Just two weeks ago! And honestly I hate that. Like if you’re gonna talk bad about me just do it to my face. I’ll find out one way or another, might as well be from you

met someone who changed you: Some good people, some not so good people. But I believe it was all for a reason

found out who your friends are: Yes

kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: Hmm... Well, I do not actually have a Facebook so I guess that would be a no

GENERAL

how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I guess I can clarify about FB here. My parents were always freaked out about the internet so never let me get one, and being a good child I never did- plus I was just not interested, so I just... never got around to it in adulthood. AND like whenever I needed to talk to a friend through FB I just used my parents page cause that was their solution, so there was no real need. But like, from the friends I had on my mom’s page yes, I know all of them irl

do you have any pets: SEVERAL AND I LOVE ALL OF MY FURRY CHILDREN! I have an 11yo poodle/terrier mix (mom was a poodle, dad was the terrier next door. Truly a scandal) named Bear and i love my grumpy old man to death; a 2yo boxer/husky mix we rescued that was originally supposed to be a lab which was a total lie named Nutmeg, but it’s okay I love my babe even if i can take her on a 3mi run and she’s still ready to run 3 more; an 8yo wonderfully affectionate and beautiful tabby cat named Willow; a 6 year old (oh my god, she’s 6, it feels like yesterday she was a satellite dish in a collar that meowed) purring machine tabby cat named Sage; and two beautiful girls. Lagertha and Gwenievere are two very playful and loving one year old dumbo eared rats

do you want to change your name: Eh, not really. I’ve had it for this long, might as well keep it

what did you do for your last birthday: Oh that was so fun. I went to the Melting pot (this fancy fondue place, so good) With a couple of friends and had a really great time, even though someone got me crayons as a gag gift (I.... hate, crayons with a PASSION, but she’s known me for like 10 years so of course I accepted.... hesitantly)

what time did you wake up today: Like 7:30? but i didn’t actually leave my bed until 9ish because don’t be fooled, I am not a morning person. I just run because I’m an idiot

what were you doing last night at midnight: Sleeping

what is something you can’t wait for: Figure out where life is taking me and then be a bomb ass bitch at it

what are you listening to right now: X&Y by Coldplay

have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I have, and he is a lovely person. Go talk to a Tom everybody, nice people

something that gets on your nerves: Horrible people. Like just those people that are horrible for no absolute reason. Like grow up, get a life, why do you have to make other people just because you’re unhappy. there are many people you could see for help and I have a number you can call if you need a recommendation

most visited website: Probably a tie between Tumblr, Youtube, and Spotify

hair color: Well, naturally I am blonde but rn it’s a reddish auburn color (but hey, people ask me all the time if it’s my natural color so who knows maybe i was destined for this shade)

long or short hair: ish? It’s growing from a pixie (that I might go back to soon) so its like... not quite shoulder length yet but give it another month and we might be there

what do you like about yourself: You know what, i’m gonna give myself some love and say everything. Lol, but as a serious answer probably my personality/nature. I have a very big heart but am also incredibly sarcastic so it is a delicate balance

want any piercings: SO many. I’m saving up to get my nose done soon (nostril) and later I’ll get my daith, helix, third piercing in my lobe, tragus, and maybe rook

blood type: Some kinda O? Honestly for someone who donates blood as much as I do, I should really know (but important blood donation note, if you wish to make sure not to do it too frequently! Healthy people = healthy blood = healthy donation receivers!)

nicknames: Gosh, too many to type. Apparently I’m just nick namey. But uhhh, the most common: Ash, Ashbash, Higgins, Higgy, Higgs, Figgins, Chief

relationship status: Single

zodiac sign: I’m one of the twin fish babes, Pisces all the way

pronouns: She/Her

fave tv show: Don’t watch as much tv as I used to but Supernatural is always a good go to (recently I’ve been watching a lot of HGTv and doctor Phil and Hallmark with my mom though, if that’s anything)

tattoos: None (yet)

right or left handed: right handed, I’m basically useless with my left (unless an instrument is involved)

ever had surgery: Nope, and hopefully we keep that trend goin!

piercings: two ear piercings

sports: Uh... in High School I was pretty active and track and I was a competitive shooter (air rifles- but I’m from Texas so). Nothing in college at the moment, I might try out for the track team just cause i miss bein a part of stuff

vacation: I am broke, I can only dream (but I do really wanna travel, so gotta save up!)

trainers: my totally stylish suede brown vans are my go to, but Adidas for running

eating: Currently? Nothing, but I did have some steamed broccoli and carrots&rice, and grilled chicken for dinner

drinking: Orange Juice

I’m about to watch: Absolutely nothing

waiting for: Didn’t I already answer this? it’s so much pressure. Uh... change?

want: To be successful in whatever I

get married: Eventually

career: Haven’t gotten there yet, but everyday is one step closer

hugs or kisses: Depends on who and when

lips or eyes: Eyes. First thing I notice

shorter or taller: At 5′3 I don’t think I can even pretend to say i’m tall

older or younger: I probably fall more on the younger spectrum

nice arms or stomach: Yes

hookup or relationships: I am a committed relationship kinda person all the way. Never really understood the whole hookup thing but to each their own

troublemaker or hesitant: A hesitant troublemaker is probably more me. I say I try to stay out of trouble, but it just kinda finds me

HAVE I EVER?

kissed a stranger: No

drunk hard liquor: Yes

lost glasses: Ugh, all the time, worst is when I lose my contacts AND glasses

turned someone down: Yes

sex on the first date: Not my style

broken someone’s heart: Yes

had your heart broken: In love and life

been arrested: Nope, and i’d like to keep it that way!

cried when someone died: Yes

fallen for a friend: Yes

DO I BELIEVE IN?

yourself: Well someone has to, so might as well be me!

miracles: I do. And if they aren’t true, at least the belief of their existence helps make their outcome possible

love at first sight: In some fairytale world maybe, but for me, nah

kiss on the first date: Possibly

angels: Yes. Of what way and form I think that’s for you to decide

OTHER

best friend’s name: I have a couple because there is too much life to only need one person in it! Lexi+Brittany+Mauricio+Imaya from all the way back to middle school and Ronan (a recent addition)

And even if we don’t talk every day of our lives I know they’ll always be there for me when I need them. Good or bad. And they know I would do the same. That’s all that really matters in the end. They’re my little chosen family

(oh that got a bit sappy, okay moving on)

eye color: Light blue? Blue? I dunno, people say it’s pretty so I go with it

fave movie: Don’t really have one...

favorite actor: Yeah... same with movies, don’t have one of those either

extrovert or introvert: I like to call myself an introverted extrovert

favorite flower: white peonies

favorite hello kitty character? I wasn’t aware there were characters aside from hello kitty....

oof this is a long post, but very fun to do! Hopefully y’all haven’t done this yet but if so well I’m gonna tag you anyways @i-h8-u-no-u-dont @pansexualpandion @rvmengf @egglorru @it-has-the-gay-fanfiction and really @ anyone who wants to do this! I’d love to see your versions!!

#tag game #personal #honestly these are always so fun #and i am legit just like knocking out everything i never did #its been so long #terribly sorry my loves #im still alive i swear #i said oof at the top and bottom! maybe thats just my thing #oof

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