#it was awkward and nearly always uncomfortable to be around those they had echo visions of

[impossible-rat-babies]

tossing around Several Thoughts:

—charon is an old soul. returned to the star only a handful of times, and she as herself has been around for A Very Long Time. it’s a funny thing about her soul, the desire for longevity. her dominion over fate and ushering the dead means she rarely crosses the boundary herself. and when she does cross, it often comes with periods of stagnation; few people feel the urge to return to the star when there is no longer the warden to shepherd them. This part of her soul carries on in 1.0, and her place as the Caretaker of the mother. eyrie takes after more of her adventure and dominion over fate (in an abstract sense of the word) while 1.0 takes after the ushering the dead in a literal sense. Two sides of the same coin. funny how part of charon ended up in the longest lived humanoid race on the star.

—her current reincarnation is much younger—more “fresh” lol she’s close to elidibus’s age. Her memories and dense soul very much persist. however this is her first time being in the position of Azem.

—eyrie’s echo was sparked by hydaelyn, yes, and much of how it manifested is eyrie seeing not only the past and living it, but the compulsion of love; the love they feel is intense and as abiding as hydaelyn’s love for people and the world. the thing is that much of that was shaped by eyrie themselves; they love deeply and without reserve, albeit it’s quiet. it’s a whisper and a gesture, but always abiding. their echo merely built upon the core of their being.

[kittydemon9000]

The Beginning of Heatstroke, aka Red's Villain Origin

* crashes down from the ceiling * I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED ONE OF MY 5+ CURRENT WRITING PROJECTS! BEHOLD, A WRITTEN VERSION OF THE 'Red's Villain Origin AU', also known as RVO / Heatstroke AU

To summarize the AU for SPBNR for those that don't now it: 

“Who'd be the biggest conspiracy theorist out of the M!Ninja? The one who drinks 5 hour energy at 3am and spits off the craziest theories and then actually gets it right but nobody gives the theory any merit because the rest of the theories are too crazy?”

The answer: Red / M!Kai

Red: Okay hear me out: Smith is actually an alternative version of one of us sent here from another dimension.

The other M!Ninja: You’re just saying that because Smith’s cool and you want him to be your counterpart

Based on the M!ninja making red cork boards trying to figure out ‘What Is Up With Smith’: Red gets increasingly accurate and nobody will believe him (all pre shogun reveal) and he eventually snaps and takes up a secret villain persona to fight Shogun like 'if they won't believe me I'll do it myself' and it gets awkward when he accidentally does too much damage and catches not only Shogun's attention like planned, but also the rest of the Ninjaforce, and now he has to keep his own identity a secret

So, without further ado, I present... Heatstroke

------------

Red blamed the 5-hour energy coffee blend at 3:00am for this.

It was no surprise that between ‘Operation: What’s Going on with Smith’ & the sudden appearance of Shogun that the resident Bounty red-stringed ‘joke’ cork-board doubled in size and seriousness. It also was no surprise that Red had a corner all to himself and that his theories were… in the words of the others, ‘wildly inaccurate and implausible’.

But this time, he was sure he’d gotten it right.

Smith is Shogun sent here from another continent/planet/dimension with the goal of protecting Ninjago City.

The latest string of laughs and scoffs at his theory was the last straw. He’d show them. He’d prove it!

Which was why he was currently standing on the roof of a noodle house, awkwardly adjusting the spare motorcycle helmet he’d ‘borrowed’ from Nya and painted black and orangey-yellow (red had seemed too obvious). He’d exchanged his Ninjaforce outfit for a soot-burned cross between a bomber jacket and a leather jacket. Down his back jutted a row of flames like the spines of a monster, courtesy of one of Nya & Jay’s unfinished inventions Red had modified- surely nothing bad would come of that!

For tonight, the Red Ninja was off-duty. For tonight, it was Heatstroke’s turn.

He fiddled with one of the weapons he’d ‘lent out’ from Master Wu. It resembled a small arm canon, like a smaller version of the Ultimate Weapon. The plaque under its post had read ‘Elemental Focuser’, which, in cryptic Wu speak, probably translated to ‘you can use an elemental power like something out of Avatar: The Last Airbender’. So far he’d only figured out how to activate a focused jet of fire. Well, at least it was on brand. He hoped it would help him catch Shogun’s attention so he could unmask him.

He’d tried confronting Smith at school, of course. But there were only so many ways of saying ‘are you the new vigilante helping the ninjas’, and Smith has a genuine talent for dancing around the topic. Red could confront him with the name Shogun to get a proper reaction, but that would mean explaining how he knew the name and outing himself as the Red Ninja.

So fake villainy really was the only way.

His plan was to use the Elemental Focuser to cause some minor petty damage, just enough to attract the new vigilante. Perhaps set a trash can on fire, block an alleyway with rocks (if he figured out how to change the setting from fire to earth), small things that could easily be repaired.

Of course, plans were never actually stuck to. One way or another, something was always improvised.

Red’s improvisation just happened to involve him accidentally setting the entire alleyway on fire.

He’d only been aiming for one dumpster, honest! And maybe he’d spotted a couple fliers for a SoG meeting on the ground and happened to burn those too. And a newspaper article blaming Lloyd for the recent Garmadon attack, again. And an article about those ‘Damn Ninja Menaces’ by a S. Sonah Sameson. And-

Okay, so maybe Red had aimed the fire at a few small targets. But just a few! And with good reason and good care, but…

Well, fire liked to burn. Give it enough kindle and it’ll continue to grow, stretching like reaching branches towards each other to join in a massive bonfire. 

So now the entire alleyway was on fire, and Red was panicking. 

He’d luckily chosen an abandoned part of town near the beaches where Shogun sightings seemed most frequent, but with the stupid Elemental Focuser not switching from fire mode to water mode or ice mode or something that didn’t have the potential to burn Ninjago City to the ground, Red had no way of stopping the flames.

And more flames meant more destruction which meant a bigger audience.

Which was why his previously muted comm suddenly flared to life, the only warning Red had before Nya’s water strider mech slid around the corner.

Red scrambled onto a roof as the mech drove past, spraying water at the bonfire to dose it. His sigh of relief was just as quickly dosed as Lloyd’s voice came over the comms; “Status, Grey?”

“Flames are out,” Nya replied. “Pursing the joker that set it ablaze.”

Uh oh. Red took off across the roof, leaping from building to building. Tiles creaked, pebbled and dust scattering underfoot. The sounds of the mech’s engine roaring behind him echoed through alleyways below to create the illusion the mech was everywhere at once. 

As the chase grew on, more mechs started to join in. Red ducked into a narrow avenue to avoid Zane’s tank, then under a cafe overhang to throw off Jay and Lloyd. His heart hammered in his chest and he groaned, filling the inside of the motorcycle helmet with steam. Saying this was going ‘bad’ would be the understatement of the century. 

What had he been thinking? Oh wait: he hadn’t. Seriously? ‘Oh I’ll just pretend to be a villain real quick, that should get Shogun’s attention and not the attention of literally my entire team of fellow ninjas!’ Stupid, impulsive, this was why everyone was always calling the red ninja the ‘hothead’ when he really tried not to be- Lloyd’s voice over the comms snapped him from his thoughts. “I can’t catch them! It’s like they know our every move!”

Red winced as he climbed up a banister and leapt from balcony to balcony. Sorry, Lloyd. 

He didn’t miss how the others asked Nya where Red was. And how she made up excuses the others bought so easily- granted, he’d told those excuses to his sister before setting his plan into motion, but still, ouch. They acted like he was simply being at best too busy and at worst lazy and selfish.

He just wanted them to know the truth! Why couldn’t they at least try to believe him when-

Of course, that was when Shogun dropped out of the sky and tackled him.

Red shouted with surprise as he tumbled down from the second floor, slamming into a few softer bags of garbage to break his fall before rolling and slamming into the unforgiving concrete. A crack formed in his vision as the visor of his motorbike helmet smacked into the concrete ground. One of the fire jets on his back sputtered and sparked, sending a thin wisp of smoke into the air.

Shogun pinned his wrists to the ground and growled. “Who are you?”

Red tried to break free, agony turning his muscles and bones to fire with the movement after his fall, but the vigilante was too strong. Damn, how often did this guy train?

“Who am I?” Red said, a nervous tinge to his voice. He quickly smoothed it over with faked confidence. “Who are you? Who are all of us, really?”

Shogun narrowed his eyes behind his hood. “Did Garmadon send you? Or someone else?”

Red sputtered. Really, the nerve! Garmadon? The thought turned his insides to disgusting mud. “Nobody sent me!”

“Then why are you here?” Shogun spat.

“Why am I here?” Why was he here again? Oh right, the bright idea on how to reveal that Shogun was Smith. “It’s, uh… a valid reason! That I don’t have to tell you!” He tried for a villainous laugh. Stay in character, don’t blow your cover, you got this!

Shogun was unimpressed. “Nearly burning down my home was a valid reason?”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to set everything on- wait, WHAT?” Uh oh. “You LIVE here?”

Now it was Shogun’s turn to look uncomfortable, though the expression was quickly wiped from his face. “Nothing wrong with this district.” 

Red nodded. “‘Course not. Uh, sorry about that… wasn’t my intention, I swear.”

Shoot, he could hear Jay’s jet getting closer. He had to get out of here, but Shogun, annoyingly, didn’t seem to be in the mood to simply let him go. “Then what is your intention?”

“Well, for starters, it’s getting out of here. This really isn’t going to plan and I’d rather just be home right now, or even inventing a time machine like in that book ‘Hands of Time’ to slap my past self in the face for even thinking about this stupid idea in the first place-“

Jay wasn’t the only one that could ramble under pressure, it seemed.

Shogun leaned closer. “What idea?”

Red shrugged as best he could with how he was pinned to the ground. “Well, for starters, I just wanted to prove to my friends that you’re Smith, and things just kinda escalated from-”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said. 

Shogun lurched back, letting go of him. His eyes betrayed a kaleidoscope of emotions; surprise, worry, suspicious, hurt, fear, realization. 

“…Kai?”

Well, f!ck.

“I-“

Red was about to badly attempt to bullsh!t his way out of his identity reveal before it suddenly dawned on him that Shogun had not denied his theory. 

Which meant Shogun was Smith.

And it also meant Smith instantly recognized him as Kai, which, considering his disguise, was aptly concerning. Sure, he was the first one in his group of friends people would think to do something this extreme but give him some credit! Zane was a regular detective, he’d do the same if it meant answers! Or, well, at least something similar. And Nya could be an adrenaline seeker. And Lloyd- well, maybe not Lloyd. Or Jay, either. Cole had his head just enough on his shoulders that he probably wouldn’t do this either.

But come on, instantly guessing it?

Well, at least Smith/Shogun didn’t know Kai was the Red Ninja. That would be a catastrophe.

Right. Back to the current catastrophe at hand.

Shogun- Smith- still had a look as if he’d been slapped, and Red hated it. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend. Shogun… Shogun hadn’t wanted them to find out his identity. And then Red had gone and done it, just to prove that he could be the smart one, or a leader, or the protector so they didn’t get hurt, or literally anything but just the ‘hotheaded one’. 

…And he’d done it in the most hotheaded, impulsive way possible.

He really was an idiot.

The cracked helmet hid the look on his face, a twisted mess of distraught and shame. But it didn’t help hide how he took stumbled to his feet and away from Smith, nervous that any second he’d spill another mistake and mess up again, like how he always freaking messed up on everything. Don’t pick this fight, interject there instead, no, not there, idiot, there, FMS why are you so useless-

Focus, focus.

Lloyd’s voice, sharp in the intercom and full of static from his tumble, snapped him from his thoughts. “Anyone got eyes on the arsonist?”

Red caught Smith’s eye as he raised his hand to his own communicator. He was so screwed, so busted, so doomed… Smith would report it, and the others would know, and they’d think he was just messing around in an alleyway with some stolen devices and weapons out of curiosity or rage, - and-

“None yet, still looking.”

…What?

Smith stared at him, gaze searching. He looked shaken, more so than Red- who’d just taken a fall from a second story, mind you, it was a miracle he wasn’t more injured than a couple small scrapes and some future bruises-, yet everything from the set of his jaw to the softening of his furrowed brows suggested a change in emotions. Well, not quite change; more like repress and replace.

“You wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you.”

Red flushed, hand instinctually clamping into a tight fist at his side. The still-working fire jets on his back ignited without him pressing any buttons; faulty activation from the fall or something. 

Palms up and hands raised, Smith silently asked to defuse the situation. “Didn’t mean it as an insult. This wasn’t about venting some anger, was it.”

Red’s lack of response only confirmed it. Smith continued. “I won’t say anything about this if you don’t tell anyone my identity. Deal? I know finding it out was important to you, but-“

“Deal,” Red interrupted. Guilt ate away at his core, like a wave of water dousing a candle. “Smith, I-“ He swallowed hard and stared at the alley floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to…”

Smith’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder and he flinched before relaxing as Smith didn’t move further, nor did the grip tighten. “I’m a little hurt, you’re right. But I’m not mad. And I won’t tell the others, so you can relax. But you better get out of here and get yourself an alibi. We can talk at school or something.”

Wow, he was handling this rather calmly. Red was struck by the sudden memory of- what did Jay call the word? Right. Compartmentalizing. That… wasn’t healthy. But at the roar of Lloyd’s mech somewhere nearby, he didn’t comment further. Instead, he shot Smith a grateful nod and ran down the alley, sticking to the shadows and blind spots of the flying mechs and the tight alleyways where the land mechs couldn’t reach him. 

When he got home, miraculously without further incident (though Shogun leading the others on a wild goose chase over the comms certainly helped there), he ditched the outfit in a bag hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the shed. He’d return the weapon to Master Wu’s ship later, and… well, hope Nya never searched for the missing supplies. There wasn’t a way of fixing it without involving her or Jay, and neither was an option.

Heatstroke was back off duty, and so was the Red Ninja.

For now, he could just be Kai Smith. And there wasn’t any issue with that.

…

Right?

—————

yooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THIS IS AMAZING REHJJGFHDESFXJVZ

and ah yes, good ol trauma and compartmentalizing, we love to see it

[finrelia]

Jealous Advice

Request: Anonymous: some good old fashioned jealous!kara x reader? maybe they aren’t dating yet and lena is being her typical flirty self with r, kara kinda loses her cool? Jajaja

Summary: You seek out Kara for some journalism advice, but wind up having a strange encounter with your boss, Lena Luthor, and Kara is NOT happy about it.

Warnings: I think there are a few swear words in this? Jealousy, mild sexual themes.

Word Count: 1,171

A/N: I don't usually write things like this, but I’m trying to go out of my comfort zone! Sorry if Kara is out of character, I’m a bit rusty with writing her!

The sound of ruffling papers, ringing phones, and rushed chatter echo in your head as you sip at the coffee warming your palms, your eyes never once leaving the computer screen in front of you. You had been working on an editorial piece that dealt with the new plans introduced by the mayor, something about a new park downtown. Something didn’t feel rite with how you were writing today, you just credited it to your lack of sleep this week. Either way, you certainly needed some advice, and you knew just who to ask. Now where was that favorite reporter of yours..? Kara typically hangs out by the fridge in the break room, always looking for snacks, might as well check there first.

You set down your mug, and began to walk towards the breakroom, weaving in and around people bustling about. Catco was absolutely slammed with stories, supergirl had saved the city not two days ago, and crime was rampant, as well as news in the local business scene. Too many stories, too little time. Everyone was swamped, hence the hustle of the office. You nearly slammed into an intern as you turned the corner near the elevator.

You eventually made it to the break room, opening the glass door and walking right in. “Y/N! What a pleasure it is to see you!”

You had expected Kara to be halfway into the fridge, but instead, your boss Lena Luthor leaned over the coffee maker, staring at you with a smile.

“Oh! Hello Mrs. Luthor! I was just looking for Ka-”

“Call me Lena, Dear. Coffee?” She asks, raising her eyebrows and gesturing to the nearly full pot.

“Lena! Alright! Sure, I would love some.” You respond, too nervous to tell her you had just finished your fourth cup.

Kara was walking out of the elevator from an early lunch break when she picks up your conversation with Lena using her super-hearing. She knew better than to eavesdrop. But she could tell Lena was acting different, and plus, she always liked to know what you were up to. Maybe it was her crush on you, but regardless you fascinated her. She walked to the corner near the door, and acted as if she was reading one of the framed magazines on the wall as she continued to listen in intently.

“How is your piece on the mayor coming along?” She asks you inquisitively as she pours the coffee into a plain navy blue mug. Before you have time to answer she remembers: “Two creams and six sugars, right?” She looks at you with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah! How did you..?” “How could I ever forget, your heart is almost as sweet as your coffee.” Her smirk was audible in her tone, making you blush slightly as you turned your head away to hide it. You couldn’t believe it, was Lena flirting? No, no way… she is like this with everyone… right? You thought.

Kara clenches her jaw nearly as hard as she was clenching her fists. Hearing Lena flirt with you was infuriating. Honestly, her reaction shocked her. She knew she liked you, but she had no idea she liked you enough to get… dare I say… jealous. No, no way. Kara never gets jealous. I’m sure Lena is only joking anyways. She thinks, attempting to reassure herself. She activates her xray vision, just to be sure.

Lena walks over to you, giving you the fresh mug of coffee, cupping her hands over yours. They linger there for slightly longer than normal, eliciting yet another blush to warm your cheeks. She reaches up silently and tucks your hair behind your ear, smiling slyly at you. Lena opens her mouth to say something, but before she can even take a breath, the door  to the break room slams open, scaring both of you half to death. The noise causes you to jump slightly, sending coffee spilling over the sides of the mug, and flowing over your fingers, causing you to release a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth as your fingers burn from the heat of the fresh coffee. Lena moves away from you quickly, and watches you burn your hands. You both look up simultaneously, realizing the source of the violent entrance was Kara, who stood in the doorway almost visibly fuming with anger.

You quickly set down your mug, and shake the pain off of your hands, as Lena rushes over to you with a cold wet towel, to ease the burning on your fingers. She asks if you were alright, but you didn’t even register her speaking to you over the sight of Kara so angry staring at you.

“Kara… hey, is everything okay? I was looking for you, I needed some advice on-” You begin to say, tentatively and softly, worried about making her more upset than she already was.

“Lena. What was that?” Kara demands, her eyes seemingly burning holes into Lena.

“Excuse me?” She says, shocked.

“What are you thinking? You flirting with Y/N?” She says, her words laced with hate.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Lena says. “If I had known you had a crush on Y/N I wouldn’t have bothered!” You blushed at Lena’s words, before your eyebrows crinkled together in confusion… wait what?

“I don’t have-!” Kara starts, before Lena cuts her off.

“Sure you don’t, Danvers. She’s all yours.” Lena puts her hands up in the air in a surrender like motion, before walking towards the door. “She seems to have burned her fingers though, so make sure you take a look at that. She needs those for writing, among other things.” Lena shoots a wink your way, before leaving the breakroom. Creating a terribly awkward silence between the two of you, as you clutch the wet rag to your hands.

You stand there, your eyes locked with Kara’s, as she puts her hand behind her neck uncomfortably, well aware that she just exposed her crush for you. You weren’t sure what was better, Lena Luthor flirting with you, your semi-full cup of coffee, or how cute Kara looked in her blue blouse. Is that new? You thought. Regardless, Kara was interested in you, and you were interested in her. As you stared at each other in silence, you both reached an unspoken understanding that things are going to be a LOT different from here on out.

“Can I take you out for coffee sometime?” Kara says, so quickly and loudly you could barely understand it. She seemed eager to break the silence.

“Well, seeing as my fifth cup of the day just burned my hands… it would be smart for me to say no to coffee today.” You say, holding up your hands slightly for emphasis. Kara’s expression turns from nervousness to disappointment instantly, and your heart breaks slightly before you say “But I’m free tomorrow if you are!” Her face lights up and she responds:

“It’s a date, then?”

“It’s a date.” You say with a small laugh.

[bloodypapercut]

common people (g.w. x reader)

hi loves! i’ve been listening to pulp so much and everytime common people plays i immediately think of george so i wanted to write something. i hope you all enjoy! <3

(requests are open)

word count: 2.8k

No prank, no act of mischief, no joke had ever managed to coerce the feelings that resided within George at that moment. The memory had been playing in his head for weeks since that day in Hogsmeade. The vivid image of her nose and cheeks dusted pink as snowflakes landed in her hair, her hand gripping at paper bag from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, and her hair whipping around her. He was consumed by her being, she radiated a sense of comfort and warmth that George had never felt from a complete stranger. She intrigued him in every imaginable way, he wanted to know everything about her, each sense in his body was heightened simply by being in her wake. It was the way she carried herself, something about it just seemed so different and enticing. He contemplated going up to her, but he knew with Fred right by his side it would not end well. So he watched from afar, unaware of Fred repeatedly kicking snow in his direction, a mediocre attempt on his behalf to capture his attention so they could go to Zonko’s.

It was breakfast, the bustle of knives and forks against plates, teaspoons against teacups, and the early morning chatter saturated with frivolous morning civility integrated into the usual dissonance of the great hall. George couldn’t bother to act interested in the conversation Fred and Lee tried to reel him into, whatever it was they were talking about was insipid compared to what he had in mind. Pushing around the strawberries on his plate with his fork, his head lulled against his palm, an attempt to subtly survey the room in order to find that girl from all those weeks ago. He’d seen her roaming the halls occasionally, or sitting hunched over a book quietly scribbling on a piece of parchment, or speaking in hushed tones to her housemates, none of it had helped his undying curiosity. She plagued his thoughts, he could relate almost anything to her somehow, despite the fact he had not once spoken to her. She was an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to know everything about her, to learn every habit, every favorite, and every detail.

He brought his cup of orange juice closer to his lips but as he looked around the room once again he saw her. She was leaving the great hall, a leather bag hanging on her shoulder loosely and a pile of books resting against her hip. There it was, that overwhelming cloak of emotions resting on his shoulders once again. Without thinking he rushed to her, no plan present in his mind.

“Hey, hi.” He panted, planted his hand against a pillar trying to catch his breath. She spun quickly, nearly dropping her books. As her gaze cast down at the hunched boy, she wondered what on earth he was doing saying hi to her, or if it was even directed at her.

“Hello? Um are you alright, you look a little red?”

“All for you love.” He winked, still struggling to steady his respiration. Her laugh was just as awkward as the situation and she tried her hardest to divert her attention to anything but the ginger in front of her. The crumbling stone walls, the rusty nails that the portraits hung on, the ornate handles on the classroom doors, she tried but she couldn’t. Because she was just as enthralled by his presence as he was with hers.

“I’ve seen you around.”

“So have I, Weasley.” She smiled warmly, an attempt to alleviate the tension.

“Is that right?”

“Indeed it is.” Another moment of uncomfortable silence followed.  

“Well, um anyway I was wondering if you’d like to go to the lake together sometime? If you want that is don’t feel pressured to say yes just because I asked you, it’s completely okay if you don’t-”

“Hey, calm down, yeah sure I don’t see why not.” The weight of her hand felt right against his forearm and he wanted to hold it in place forever, he grinned bashfully at her hand, which didn’t go unnoticed as she had squeezed his arm upon seeing his line of sight.

“4?”

“4.” She nodded before letting go of his arm and walking off, not bothering to glance over her shoulder.

After that afternoon together they became inseparable. Their lives orbit around the other and they learned everything there was to know about their partner, well almost. There was one thing she had kept from him, something that would normally be considered frivolous but in their case was quite the contrary. She hadn’t revealed that she was a part of the Rosier family, a pureblood family, similar to the Malfoys or the Blacks. Though she was treated with nothing but disdain for being a 'traitor' by her relatives, she was still technically a Rosier. She felt wrong for keeping it from him, but she never let that convince her to divulge her secret. She tried convincing herself that it wasn’t important, that it didn’t change anything. But she knew it did, it changed everything. No matter how many times she tried to delude herself, the intrusive thoughts that never stopped urging her to tell him continued their unabating blathering. Though she knew she never acted like them or shared their mentality, she knew how it would come across and she knew how George would react. A member of the Rosier family, a family known for possessing ostentatious pride due to their pureblood status dating someone part of a family deemed to be a stain on the sacred 28. Y/N was scared to lose everything she had with George, she was too afraid of the unknown so she kept it from him for as long as she could. That was a mistake, a huge one.

Everything seemed to be fine but one afternoon, when Y/N found that George wasn’t where they had agreed to meet she grew concerned. Her footsteps echoed as she ran to his dorm, worried he was hurt or in trouble.

“I know.”

“What are you talking about Georgie.” Her laughs were forced and stiff, she found it unusual for him to be so solemn. But as his shoulders deflated and his back hunched over his book she knew something was wrong, and she knew what it was. Before he could utter a single word she had already started berating herself in her head. How could one be so selfish? So inconsiderate and dull?

“You never told me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The incessant beating of her heart filled her ears, almost deafening her and making her unable to hear George’s voice, the voice that was usually filled with joy now sounded devastated and tumultuous. Tears had already threatened to cascade both of their cheeks and it was just a matter of time before someone started weeping.

“I didn’t think it mattered, I just wa-”

“But it does matter. It matters so much, are you completely oblivious to how the world works? How unfair it is to people like me? To people in my family? We’re a joke to people like you, so what was this all about?”

“I- George I’m with you because I love you, that’s all I swear. I’m not like them, I’m not.”

“So why'd you hide it then? Why couldn’t you just tell me?” His voice was hushed and fragile, he struggled to keep a steady tone, by instinct he remained stoic but his voice revealed how betrayed he felt.

“I just wanted a simple life, where it didn't matter your last name or your class or your blood purity, I didn’t want this to change our relationship. I wanted to be like everyone else. I want the future we always talk about, I don't care for any of that pureblood mania.”

“No! No you can’t say that not when you’re literally in one of the most prestigious and honored pureblood families. You don’t understand how bloody lucky you are Y/N! Honestly, have you ever realized that? You can do whatever you want and even if you fail you will never fall on your arse, but me, no I can’t do that if I failed I’m fucked. You can get away with anything with a simple call to your father, you can buy your way to the top. Why would you hide this from me? All this time, was I some charity case? Did your family force you to be with me just to get dirt on mine?”

“What? No! George! No...I just didn’t want this to change things and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, I love you so much I was just scared please .”

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

“Oh, I- if that’s what you think, I’ll just leave you be, I’m sorry.” With her head hung low and tears clouding her vision she made haste to locate the doorknob and rush out of his room. She ignored the frantic footsteps and calls of worry from Hermione and Harry as she bulleted out of the common room. She ignored Fred and Lee who were sitting on the bench in a corridor as they scribbled onto sheets of parchment, she ignored Luna who tried to grab her attention, and Cho, and Angelina, and Neville, everyone, she was verklempt and if anyone even gave her a look of sympathy she knew she’d break down in tears.

The rest of the afternoon she stayed quietly in her bed, curled up in a ball with crumpled tissues surrounding her. She felt guilty for crying, she had brought this onto herself. That didn’t stop her though because upon realizing what she had done, the image of George so distraught, so disappointed, plagued her mind and broke her heart even more. It was something that would plague her memories forever. It was ruined, they were ruined.

Days dragged like molasses dripping from a spoon, every walk between class there he’d be, leaning against a pillar while throwing his head back in laughter, or during meal times, his arms flailing as he retold a story about a prank, or in the library his head lulling to the side as he waited for Fred to determine the missing ingredient for a potion they wanted to perfect before selling it. It hurt her, seeing that he was completely fine without her, like everything was normal. He was everywhere, and even if he wasn’t physically, mentally he was. The words rang in her ears again and again ‘you’re just like the rest of them,’ it stung each time it repeated. She was starting to believe that she was just as bad as they are, just as selfish and malevolent and spiteful. It clawed at the abyss of her mind, dragging her entire being into a spiral of endless darkness.

The air was cold, the kind that nipped at all your nose and made it hard to breathe. The walk from Y/N’s potions class to herbology wasn’t pleasant as her fingers turned numb and red. The stone flooring crumbled under her black school shoes as she kicked the pieces that already broke off. She watched as the pebbles ricocheted from the toe of the black vinyl to a slightly elevated stone tile, she’d focus on anything but the things that lingered in her subconscious. It had been working in her favor for the past couple of weeks, or months, she couldn’t really tell, everything blurred into one continuous string of agonizing events. She found herself being unaware of what was in front of her because without even realizing it she bumped directly into the boy she’d been trying to make sure her thoughts were devoid of. On instinct, his arms immediately gripped her forearms and her hands pressed against his chest. Time moved slower than ever as their eyes slowly raked up from where their hands were to the eyes of who they were on. They scrambled from each other, muttering pathetic ‘sorry’s and speed walking with promptitude to opposite ends of the corridor.

The worst part was that no matter how often they tried to steer away from the other, they’d always cross each other's path. It got to the point where they weren’t even trying to hide their yearning to talk, they’d openly send longing stares but would never act on their desires. So much was unsaid and they realized they couldn’t just leave how things were, they had to talk about where they stood. The conclusion of that conversation was unclear and that’s what frightened them the most. The reality was that every day they refused to communicate out of obdurate pride, their relationship became more and more decrepit. George felt doltish and penitent, he didn’t mean what he said, he was hurt, angry and confused. Y/N felt guilty, she hurt the love of her life due to her selfish wishes to avoid confrontation.

It had been about 2 months, 2 agonizing, and treacherous months. George finally cracked, and much like the way things had started between them, he was looking for her in the great hall. He searched, pushing himself up slightly against the table, for any sign of her, anyone who would know where she was. It didn’t take long as he found Luna’s prolific hair, and there she was sitting right next to her. He could see her pushing around the vegetables on the golden plate in front of her, her cheek resting in her palm as a dejected countenance presented itself on her face. It saddened him to see her beautiful face so full of despondency. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to talk to her, he’d gone crazy without her. He abhorred pretending it didn’t phase him when he wasn’t with her, she had become a vital part of his life in such a short time. He knew she meant well. He wanted to fix things, he had to. Swiftly George dug through Ron’s back to grab a piece of parchment and scribbled using the quill Hermione was using, to the both of their dismays. He acted before he could fully process what his plan was because before he knew it he was faced with Y/N. Her eyes widened upon his arrival but before she could think of anything to say he placed the folded piece of parchment in front of her plate and dashed to the Gryffindor table. Dropping her fork she unfolded the parchment and smiled softly at the scraggly writing she adored so much.

'Astronomy Tower at 8?'

-----

She feared that she'd collapse as she feebly made her way up the steps to the astronomy tower. Her gloved hand held the note firmly, hoping that there was still a chance for them to fix everything. As she rounded the corner to ascend the final steps she found George sitting there.

"Y/N, you came" He breathed out, almost in disbelief.

"I'll take any chance to see you again." She mentally berated herself for saying something so sappy, but she noticed his eyes widen and his back straighten slightly.

"You're early."

"So are you."

"Yeah, I- uh yeah. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss you." A heavy silence fell upon them and they bore holes into each other with their apprehensive stares, waiting to see who would speak first.

"I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." They blurted at the same time, but Y/N nodded for him to continue.

"I didn't mean it, any of it. You're nothing like them I know that, just shocked me y'know? I should've never said those cruel, demeaning things to you, I know who you really are and I love you. Merlin, I'm so deeply and madly in love with you, and I really hope I haven't screwed us up. I understand if you don't want to get back together, after everything, but please if there is still a part of you that wants 'us' to happen again, tell me."

She nodded enthusiastically throwing herself into George's direction, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face between his shoulder and neck. He immediately pulled back slightly to grab her face with his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled so hard his face hurt.

"I meant everything I said, about the future and wanting to spend it with you. My mother and father...they're relatives but not family, they've never felt like home the way that you do." She felt him nod against her forehead. He held her chin between his index and thumb, tilting her head so her lips met his. He ghosted his lips over hers, brushing past them before connecting them softly. The warmth he's always felt ever since he saw her returned, and it cloaked his senses as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. After minutes of fervently compensating for lost time, with roaming hands and whispers or repeated 'i love you's and plans for their future, they pulled apart. Standing in silence in each other's embrace, they knew they'd make it through all the tumultuous times ahead because they had each other.

[stardew-vxlley]

now or never

summary: Shane’s crush on the farmer isn’t much of a secret around Pelican Town--even the farmer knows. What is a secret, is that the farmer feels very much the same for him. In a fleeting moment of courage, the farmer decides to ask him out. 

pairing: shane x reader 

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of food/alcohol

a/n: requested by @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis !! full of fluffy adorable love and shy, nervous shane. enjoy! 

―

The chilly morning autumn air blew the orange and brown leaves in a flurry around Pelican Town Square. The village was just waking up--Pierre was posting the daily Help Wanted sign in front of his shop, Evelyn was pushing George in his wheelchair across the cobblestones to his monthly check-up at Harvey’s clinic, and Mayor Lewis was walking briskly back to his house, coming from the suspicious direction of Marnie’s ranch. 

These mornings were always your favorite. You waved to Mayor Lewis as you made your way to Pierre’s--and the mayor hastily returned the wave and disappeared into his home with a flustered expression. You chuckled to yourself as you recalled fetching his purple shorts from Marnie’s room not too long ago. 

“Good morning, farmer [Y/N]!” Pierre greeted you warmly as you entered the general store. Sliding the scarf from around your neck, you grinned at him. 

“A good morning indeed,” you replied, eyes traveling over the colorful boxes and jars of various assortments. “I’m all out of wheat flour--trying to make a batch of cookies for everyone.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, pointing to the aisle closest to you. “Up there on the top.” 

“Perfect, thank you!” 

You studied each of the boxes of flour, trying to decide how many you should buy. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the jingle above the door chime cheerfully, but you registered Pierre’s greeting to who walked in. 

“Shane! You’re up early today,” he remarked. 

You nearly dropped the boxes in your hands, a red tinge creeping into your cheeks. Peeking through the merchandise stocked on the shelves, you saw Shane heading towards the snack aisle. His usual tired expression was as clear as ever, scowling at the rows of chips on the shelf. Biting your lip, you tried to be as discreet as possible as you hurriedly decided that one box of flour was enough for your cookies--and headed directly towards Pierre to pay for it. 

“Just one box today?” Pierre asked, punching a few buttons on his register. “Will it be enough?” 

“Oh, um, yeah--yeah, one box should be plenty,” you rushed out, keeping your eyes trained on the old counter top. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Shane was looking in your direction--earning an even deeper blush in your face.

“Just the usual price, then,” Pierre said, and you handed him the bag of coins. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“Nope, nope, thank you!” you said hastily as you quickly gathered the flour in your arms, turning on your heel to make a beeline for the exit. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been paying close enough attention to see that Shane had gotten in line behind you, holding a bag of chips and a jar of sugar. You collided into him, sending everything flying in every direction. 

“Oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry!” you cried out as you scrambled to clean the mess up. 

“N-no, it’s okay,” Shane said, his cheeks flushed with matching embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” 

“I shouldn’t have been moving so fast,” you sheepishly admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Luckily nothing had been harmed. You reached down and retrieved his bag of chips, holding it out to him. He took it from you, and there was a beat of awkward silence. 

“Well,” you uncomfortably cleared your throat. “I’m--I’m gonna go now.” 

“Sorry again,” he offered, passing by you to place his things up on the counter, where an impatient Pierre had been waiting. 

“N-no problem!” You nearly tripped over your own two feet as you walked out of the general store. Once you were outside, you took a deep breath of autumn air and fanned your flushed cheeks. 

Truth be told, you knew Shane had feelings for you. He wasn’t the greatest at keeping secrets--but it’s not like he had to try very hard to keep his mouth shut. It was his actions that gave everything away--you caught him gazing at you from across the saloon on more than one occasion, he sent you heartfelt notes in the mail (along with a smushed frozen pizza), and every time you were near him, he became a blubbering, flustered mess. It was adorable. 

However, what Shane didn’t know, is that you had feelings for him too. Strong ones, at that. You found yourself taking the long way to town, past Marnie’s ranch, in hopes of maybe catching him while he was on his way to work at the Joja Mart. You also would steal glances at him on Friday nights in the saloon, brooding and mysterious in the corner. 

But you could never bring yourself to say anything to him. You had tried, but each time you handed him a plate of pepper poppers as a token of love, you always chickened out and ended up running away. Like--literally running away. At full speed. There was just something about him that made you nervous, but in a good way--with butterflies and giddiness. 

Later that evening, you were pulling the last batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. The warm and inviting smell wafted through your farmhouse, reminding you of the ones that your father used to bake for you as a child. Evelyn had been so kind and generous as to share her secret recipe with you, but you remained convinced yours would never come out as delicious as hers.

You packed them up tight in a container and set off to the saloon to deliver them. An enormous harvest moon was high up in the sky, illuminating Pelican Town with its celestial radiance. The stars twinkled cheerfully around it as you walked across the square. 

You pushed the heavy wooden door open, the warm glow of the saloon washing over the steps of the stoop. The sound of the jukebox echoed across the town, the sound of silverware and drinks joining it in a pleasant symphony. 

“Those look like cookies,” Gus called out from behind the bar, a twinkle in his eyes. “Freshly baked?” 

“I literally just took them out of the oven an hour ago,” you laughed, stepping up to the bar and placing the container down. “You’ll keep them safe and make sure everyone gets one, right?” 

“I’ll guard them with my life,” Gus promised, taking the container and lifting the lid. He inhaled deeply with a satisfied grin. “Smells like Evelyn’s recipe.” 

“You have an incredible nose,” you chuckled, and turned to leave the bar. Your eyes couldn’t help but search for Shane, quickly darting to his usual spot by the fireplace. And...he was there. You locked gazes, that old familiar blush creeping back into your cheeks. 

He awkwardly lifted the beer he was drinking in acknowledgement to you, to which you responded with a little wave. 

“Won’t you have a bite to eat, [Y/N]?” Gus’ voice pulled your attention back to the bar. “I just made some of my classic spaghetti, hot off the pot.” 

You opened your mouth to decline, it was getting late and you needed to get some rest. But on a whim, you smiled and nodded. “Sure, I’ll take a plate.” 

“Wonderful,” he grinned, and disappeared to fetch it. You nervously tapped your fingers against the wooden bar, feeling Shane’s eyes boring a hole in the side of your head. You suppressed the urge to look at him again, focusing on the various bottles and dishes stacked along the wall. 

Gus returned with a steaming plate of spaghetti, and your worries were placed on a temporary hold as you drew in the mouth-watering scent of homemade tomato sauce and pasta. 

“Thank you so much, it smells divine,” you said graciously, looking up at Gus. “How much do I owe you?” 

“On the house tonight,” he replied, picking up a glass and cleaning it with a dish rag. “For that little favor with the lobster.” 

You beamed at him, and began eating your dinner heartily. It was as delicious as it smelled, and pretty soon you were fighting the urge to lick the sauce off the plate. Emily came by and took the dirty dish away, exchanging pleasantries with you while she did. 

A moment passed where you were alone at the bar, full of pasta. A bolt of courage surged through you and you lifted your eyes to where Shane stood, watching him stare at the floor and drink his beer. His mop of hair fell into his eyes, making him look young and vulnerable. The hand that wasn’t holding the beer was shoved into the pocket of his jeans, sleeves of his sweatshirt pushed up. 

You bit your lip in anticipation. Now was your chance--Gus and Emily were tending to other patrons, no one was in your way--all you had to do was get up and move. 

Forcefully exhaling a breath, you pushed away from the bar and started walking over to where he stood. His focus turned to you, locking on your eyes as you neared him. You almost tucked tail and ran away--again--but something in you told you to just suck it up and get on with it this time. 

You came to a stop just a few feet in front of him. Your mind raced to figure out just what exactly to say, mouth falling open with no words coming out. He stared at you, beer paused just halfway to his lips. 

“Uh,” Shane said, “hi.” 

“H-hi,” you stumbled over the word. You anxiously fiddled with your hands, blushing furiously. 

His eyebrows raised in question. “C-can I help you?” 

You laughed nervously, trying to refrain from tugging on your ear--something you did in any nervous situation. “I--I have something to ask you.” 

You had his full attention now. He set down his beer on the counter before turning back to you and crossing his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing. 

“What is it?”

This was it. Now or never. 

“Do you want to go out sometime?” you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut in humiliation. 

When he didn’t answer right away, you slowly cracked one eye open to peek at him. He was in shock--his whole face was red and his mouth was hanging open in surprise. 

“You don’t have to say yes!” you reassured him, holding your hands up in defense. “I just--I really like you, and I want to--uh--ya know, get to know you better.” 

Shane looked around, as if trying to find someone. His gaze landed back on you, brow furrowed in confusion. “I d-don’t get it.” 

Now it was your turn to look confused. “What--what don’t you get?” 

“You’re asking me out?” 

“Ye-e-es?” you replied slowly, not liking where this conversation was going. 

“And it’s--it’s not a prank? Sam didn’t put you up to this, did he?” 

“No!” you exclaimed as you waved your hands. “It’s not a prank--that would be a horrible thing to do. No, I...I just really want to spend more time with you.” 

Shane stared at you, until his adorable cheeks split into a grin. “Alright. Yeah--actually, I got two tickets to the Tunnelers game this weekend, do you want to go with me?” 

“I would love to!” you said, all-too excitedly, and winced at your enthusiasm. “Sorry--I’m, ah, really nervous.” 

“I know the feeling,” he replied, picking up his beer again. “So--gridball game, this weekend. I’ll meet you by the bus stop.” 

“It’s a date,” you said cheerfully, and immediately blushed again. “I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then,” he said. 

Your heart was so full in that moment, that you didn’t realize you were staring at him in silence again, until he cleared his throat. 

“Sorry! I’m gonna--” you gestured to the door with your thumbs, “--gonna get home now. To the farm. That I live on.” Smooth. 

“It’s getting late,” Shane remarked as he glanced at the clock. “Can I--can I walk you home?” 

“That would be really nice of you,” you replied shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you.” 

He led you out of the saloon and into the autumn night, and the two of you talked the entire walk home about anything and everything. And long after he had given you a sweet, nervous goodnight kiss on the cheek while the two of you stood on the porch, you lay awake in your bed and wished with all your might that this next week went by quickly, so you could steel your nerves and kiss Shane for real. 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[that’s just what the cold really is]

Sometimes I wake up at one o’clock in the morning to drink some tea and write a briolet oneshot. 

Don’t ask why because I don’t know what this is either. 

Read on AO3

---

Frost kisses the glass, starting from the wooden frame and spreading across the window. Violet stares past the ice, allowing her mind to clear itself, content to exist and be. How long has she sat there, cross-legged on her desk, watching the stillness of the night? Who knows. Long enough for her nose to become cold enough it stung to breathe through it.

Pressing a finger against the foggy glass, Violet glides it across to draw two eyes and a smile. Dumb and lopsided, she thinks, before smearing away one of the eyes. 

With a sigh, Violet climbs off the desk, stiff muscles wincing as her bare feet hit the hardwood floors, so cold it almost hurts to walk. 

Another sleepless night in the beginnings of winter, not an unusual occurrence these days. Not when thoughts of the undead and loved ones long lost haunt the most inner workings of her mind, and not when the cold irritates her eye to the point where she could just rub it better.  

If only she could put some pressure on it, warm it up enough to be uncomfortably comfortable, but the healing process for the loss of an eyeball is apparently a long and agonizing one. Possibly more so than the actual removal itself, though that’s debatable-- Violet doesn’t have nightmares about healing.

No, these days she still has nightmares about a cell much colder than her dorm, about disfigured faces holding her down as she struggles, spitting more curses than pleas. Lilly’s smug voice echoes in her ear from far away and a woman with a cold, dead stare hovers over her, knife in hand as she commands her to stay still.

Violet reaches her arm out to grab the bar belonging to the top bunk of her bed, the metal cold enough to burn her fingertips. She lets her hand drag along it as she makes her way closer to the door. She wouldn’t want to accidentally walk too close and stub her toe again. 

The hallway’s just as dark and still, and it occurs to her that it might be dangerous to walk around here barefoot. Sure, the school’s clearer than it’s ever been thanks to Ruby putting her foot down about everyone being a bunch of pigs, but that doesn’t mean Violet won’t step on a missed piece of glass or a tracked in rock. 

Does that scare her enough to turn around and head back into the forlorn darkness of her dorm to try and get some sleep? 

Violet makes it down the hall with ease, keeping a hand dragging along to wall to steady her. Not that she really needs to do that. It’s not like she’s completely blind. She still has one eye that’s as good as new, but having only one good eye makes for some poor depth perception most of the time. 

The outside chill cuts right through the thin material of her shirt, sinking down into her bones to bring involuntary tremors through her limbs. Rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them,  she ventures into the yard, setting her sight on the stairs leading into the admin building. 

She doubts anyone will be in the music room tonight, though she is a little hopeful that Louis might be there. She’d enjoy a song or two tonight, she thinks. He could always was make her laugh, and perhaps that’s what she needed right now. 

Louis has his fair share of sleepless nights, and like her, he wanders out here to the music room. Work out frustrations by ‘tickling the ivories,’ as he puts it, or to comfort himself after a bad dream. Violet just hopes that if he’s here tonight that he’s alone. While she enjoys the company of both Louis and Clementine, the two of them being in there together at this time of night probably wouldn’t be the most innocent outing. Violet’s lone eye can only unsee so many things. 

“Jesus,” she curses. A particularly harsh gust of wind nearly knocks her down as she climbs the stairs. “Yeah, great, thanks for that.”

Well, if they are in there together, at least they aren’t freezing their asses off. 

Violet glares up at the sky, wrinkling her nose at the thought. 

Hell, even if they’re both back at the dorms, they’re still warmer together than Violet is out here by herself. Everyone who remains in their bed is warmer than her. Probably. 

Her face softens, gaze falling down to the steps beneath her. 

Maybe cold nights exist as a reason to drawer people closer to one another, to seek and feel the natural warmth only they could provide. Except what does that mean for those who are cold but lonely? Maybe that’s just what the cold really is, Violet thinks. 

Loneliness. Huh. 

Shit.

Maybe it’s her pride or the fact that she’s never felt weaker than she has the past six or so months after escaping the delta’s clutch, leaving her eye with them. Fronting that she’s tougher than she really is made her feel better, acting as though she’s content being alone or that she doesn’t need to rely on others for help even if she knows it’s bullshit.

Doing this always bit her in the ass on nights just like this one. 

It’s silent within the admin building, so it’s safe to conclude that Louis isn’t here. 

She’d never admit her disappointment aloud, but that doesn’t stop the feeling from tugging at her gut. She really hoped he’d be here, hoped they could talk for a while. For as loud and obnoxious as Louis could be, he could listen just as well, be just as quiet and sincere. It’s stupid now to think that she once thought him incapable of serious, deep conversation, not that she ever gave him much of a chance. Not that he gave her much of a chance, either. 

Just a couple of dumbasses, she thinks. Oh well.

Violet turns the corner to see the door to the music room wide open, inviting her in. Moonlight leaks in through the curtain slits, reflecting off the floor and the old piano. Strangely, it doesn’t feel as cold in here. At least, not as much as it is outside, or even in the hallway. 

She approaches the piano, contemplating if she should sit down. She has no idea how to play, nor does she have any desire to. Resting a hand on the worn-out wood, she curiously admires the inner workings of the piano with all its strings and doohickeys. 

Louis offered to teach her once, and she told him that piano music sucks. He never made another offer. 

“Vi?” 

Violet nearly jumps a foot in the air. 

Whipping around, she finds Brody curled up on the couch with a thin blanket over her leg and a mug in hand, wide eyes gazing up at her. 

“Shit, sorry,” Brody apologizes, setting her mug on the table beside the armrest. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just didn’t think you saw me and I didn’t want to be, well, creepin’ over here without ya knowin.’” 

Violet presses a hand against her frantic heart, taking a deep breath and nodding. 

“No, yeah, definitely didn’t see you. Y’know,” she motions to the patch over her eye, “blind spot.” 

Brody seems to stiffen up, but gives an unsure nod, face falling as she glances down at her hands. She stretches out her legs, making like she’s going to stand but changes her mind. 

Violet frowns, silently scolding herself. 

“What’re you doin’ up?” Brody finally asks. 

Violet gives a halfhearted shrug. 

“Can’t sleep. Obviously.”

“Your eye?” 

“Among other things.”

Brody nods once more, and Violet can’t help but stare at her, even though Brody can probably feel it. Even from here, and with her vision impairment, Brody’s scare is harshly prominent against her more delicate features. Right above her brow, long and discolored now, fully healed. 

Violet almost scoffs aloud. Fucking Marlon. She hopes he’s freezing his ass off living down in the old train station now. After what he did to Brody, after finding out what he did to Minnie and Sophie, they kicked him out of Ericson. And even after everything with the raiders, after Marlon helped them escape the boat before it exploded, he’s still not welcome here. 

Well, more so Marlon decided it’d be in everyone’s best interest if he didn’t live at Ericson anymore, instead settling in the train station so that he was close enough if they ever needed him. Everyone agreed, even Louis. That was a surprise, but he agreed that Marlon being here with them wouldn’t work anymore, and maybe knowing where Marlon was and that he was safe helped Louis be content with the decision. 

Violet’s just glad she doesn’t have to see him every day, and that he’s far away from Brody, but even gone he’s left marks all over this school... all over Brody’s face. 

“What about you?” Violet asks to break the awkward pause. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Nah,” Brody finally looks at her, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear. Bedhead, Violet thinks. Funny. “Tossin’ and turnin’ don’t suit me. If I’m gonna be awake, I might as well be outta bed and doin’ something.” 

“Something like sitting in the dark like a weirdo?”

That gets a small smile from Brody. 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” she says. “Just wanted some tea and a change of scenery. Wasn’t expecting company...” she trails off, but keeps her gaze on Violet as she quietly adds, “but it’s a welcome surprise.”

Violet almost smiles despite herself, having to bite the inside of her cheek. 

Ever since they lost the twins, things have been rocky with Brody. After Clementine and AJ showed up, Violet felt for the first time in a so long that her friendship with Brody was salvageable, that maybe they could be close again. Clementine forced her to see what was really bothering her about Brody and why things were so shitty between them, and Violet found herself wanting to fix it. 

Then the truth Marlon and Brody were hiding from them came out, and Violet was beyond pissed. Even with Brody lying in bed, bandages wrapped around her head and her skin sticky and pale, Violet hated her. 

Yeah, hated her. Hated her for lying to her face for over a year, for keeping that secret to hide her and Marlon’s guilt, for trying to grow close with her knowing what she had done. 

Violet never fathomed that she’d ever forgive Brody, but then Brody healed and could explain everything. 

Then the raiders attacked, and she and Brody were taken away, forced to share a cell on the raider’s boat. When Violet failed to cooperate, and they... well, Brody was the one to hold her, sob into her shoulder from within that cell.  

Suddenly, a lot of things didn’t seem to matter anymore. 

“You want some tea?” Brody offers, holding up her own mug. “It’s minty.”

“No, no...” Violet shakes her head, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. 

“It’ll warm ya up. Can see ya shakin’ from over here.”

“Maybe I like the cold.”

“No one likes the cold.”

“Maybe I do.”

Brody rolls her eyes, throwing the blanket off and standing. Over by the fireplace, she lights a match to ignite her makeshift warmer to boil more water. 

Violet abandons the piano, finding a place on the opposite side of the couch as Brody wanders about the room, humming to herself. She comes back with another blanket, this one heavier. Violet accepts gratefully, covering her body up to her chin.

Brody hands her to streaming mug, the scent of warm mint clearing her senses. Violet can’t help but groan after taking a sip, the heat spreading through her body. 

“Good?”

“It’s okay,” Violet lies. ”I guess.”

Brody smiles. Violet wonders how close she’ll sit now that she’s here, but Brody doesn’t move to do so. Instead, she grabs one of the candles off the piano, flicking a match to light it. Violet raises a brow up at her, which Brody meets with a playful shrug. 

“it’s cold,” she says simply, setting the candle down on the small round table. 

Violet can’t help it. She laughs. That makes Brody smile. 

Her laughter dies when the couch dips with Brody’s weight beside her. 

“C’mon,” Brody grins, tugging at the comforter. “Don’t be a hog.”

Violet doesn’t bother putting up a fight, lifting the blanket to let Brody scoot closer. Shoulder to shoulder, they get comfortable. 

“Y’know what I miss?” Brody asks. 

“Summer?”

“No-- well, actually yes, I do miss summer, but that’s not what I was gonna say,” she brings her long legs us, tucking them beneath her. This makes her lean more into Violet and it takes all her concentration to not spill hot tea over her hands. “I was thinkin’ that I miss jerky.”

“Jerky?”

“Yeah. I used to go on these trips once a year with my dad to see my grandpa. Was always just to two of us, and we’d be on the road for hours, but we’d stop at this gas station-- the same one every time, and he’d get us these long sticks of spicy jerky that you could barely chew without feelin’ like ya were gonna break a tooth.”

“Gross,” Violet wrinkles her nose. “Ever break a tooth?”

“Nah, not really. Sure made my jaw sore by the time I was finished, though. Take ya about an hour to get through the whole thing properly. But Daddy said that was the point. Ya gotta chew it long enough to get all the flavor outta it, otherwise, it’s just a waste.” 

“He couldn’t’ve brought you a hotdog or something?”

“You ever have a hotdog from a gas stop?” Brody makes a gagging noise. “Wouldn’t be surprised if those things were made of roadkill off the highway.” 

“How’s that any different than what we eat now?” Violet asks, teasing. “It’s just in stew form instead.”

“I’ll tell him you compared his famous stew to flea-bitten roadkill.” 

“Do it,” Violet challenges with a smirk, setting her tea aside. “I can take him.”

Brody snorts out a laugh, hand flying up to cover her mouth to muffle the outburst, managing an, “Oh god,” out. 

Once Brody gets a hold of herself, Violet says, “Never had jerky like that. Though I didn’t go on many road trips.” 

“We could go on one,” Brody suggests lightly, nudging her. “Get away from here, go find a beach somewhere and sit in the sun.”

“Only if I get to drive.” 

Brody, a soft smile tugging at her lips, wraps an arm around Violet’s shoulders to pull her close, gently rubbing more heat into her arm.

Despite the heaviness in Violet’s stomach, it flutters at the feeling of her body pressed against Brody’s. She hesitates, but eventually leans into the warmth of her side, resting her head in the crook of Brody’s neck while slipping her arms around her waist. 

“Can’t tell anyone we’re goin,’ though,” Brody mumbles. “I’m not spending days in a car with Louis and his singalongs.”

“Twenty-five bottles of beers on the wall, twenty-five bottles of beer-”

“Oh god.”

“-take one down--”

“No!”

“-pass it around-”

Brody’s hand presses over Violet’s mouth to silence her, all while the both of them laugh together. For the first time that night, Violet doesn’t feel a single chill prick at her skin. She pulls Brody’s hand from her face, holding it in her own. When Brody doesn’t pull away, she takes a risk in lacing their fingers together. 

Brody squeezes her hand back in approval. 

The laughter dies down. Brody pulls the blanket closer over them, and together they sit for a while. 

Just as Violet’s eye begins to droop shut, the fatigue finally hitting her, Brody’s lips press against her forehead. Violet thinks to turn her head up to kiss Brody back, really kiss her, but doesn’t. 

Too tired, too comfortable, too warm. 

Violet allows sleep to take her. 

[ncityislove]

His Worst Nightmare

➳ Pairing: Demon!Jisung x Reader

➳ Genre: Angst, Demon AU

➳ Word Count: 9.2k

➳ Warnings: mention of murder and blood but no actual death

Requested? Nah.

You wake up in a pitch-black room, the smell of something burning, stinging your nose. You let out a choked cough, attempting to sit up, only to realize you can't. Your chest is tied down to a table, along with your arms and legs with buckled straps. Fear runs through your veins as you call out for help.

You don't know where you are but the room must be humongous for the way your voice echoes, your screech bouncing around the room for what must've been over a minute until it comes back to you. That's when a singular lightbulb hanging over your head comes on and a boy standing to your left comes into view. You scream again and he hushes you with a finger to his lips.

The light is dim so you can only see his silhouette. How long he had been standing there, you didn't know, but all you could feel was the shrill voice in the back of your brain telling you to run away from him. You're breathing loudly now, the cold metal of the table contrasting with the warmth of your skin. The smell is stronger. You finally recognize the scent as burning flesh.

You stir on the table, screaming and calling for someone—anyone—but the boy puts a hot hand on your shoulder, silencing you. You don't know how he did it, but your voice is gone, your limbs frozen. He leans into the light and you can finally see his face.

He's handsome, his jaw chiseled with small eyes that would've been charming if it wasn't for the alarming blood-red pupils that stare down at you. His lips curve into a wicked smile, his pointed teeth white and pearly as his tongue slid over them quickly.

"Wake up," he whispers.

You shoot up in your bed with a gasp. Your heart thuds in your chest as you try to stop the stream of tears pouring out of your tear ducts. You had to remind yourself that he wasn't real, your breaths coming out uneven.

You've had the same nightmare every night for the past month, leaving you on edge and restless. The bags under your eyes have bags. You put a clammy hand to your forehead, the skin hot to the touch, only reminding you of the burning temperature of the room in your dream.

You don't know why you were having nightmares and why of all things it was always the same boy every night. It never went any further than that bone-chilling smile except once, two or three weeks ago, when his jaws opened the size to fit 3 large watermelons, blood dribbling down his chin. You woke up screaming that time, causing your parents to rush in to check on you.

You get up to make a cup of coffee, deciding against going back to sleep. Caffeine has been your kindest friend for the past few weeks. Unfortunately, you couldn't stay awake forever and eventually, you'd drift off, finding yourself strapped to that table again.

You groggily padded across the kitchen floor, grabbing your favorite mug from the drying rack and pouring yourself the largest cup of coffee possible.

-

The computer cafe you were currently sitting in was emptier than usual, which slightly lifted your spirits. The icing of your half-eaten cupcake was starting to become too sweet so you get up to dispose it in the garbage at the ordering counter.

Your legs feel weak as you walk, your entire body suffering from the lack of proper rest. You feel the world sink in when you blink occasionally, dozing off over and over. This won't do. You get into line to grab another coffee.

You're sitting back at your computer, nose hidden in your oversized coffee mug, when a tall figure shadows over you, their presence strikingly familiar to you—so familiar that when they touched your shoulder, you didn't even flinch.

"Excuse me?," said the young boy.

You turn around, your blood suddenly running cold. The face you've dreamed of every night for the past month—the face that was so terrifyingly beautiful that his image was permanently ingrained into your mind. The slope of his nose those his slanted eyes—it was him! There was no mistaking it.

His lips curl into an awkward frown, his eyebrows lifting slightly at the way your eyes pop out at him.

"A-are you okay?"

You shake your head side to side as you abruptly stand up, gathering your things with trembling hands. You had to go home. You were hallucinating now. You had to be. But why did he seem so real? You were going insane.

"Hey!" he calls out, his hand reaching out to stop you, and you do flinch this time although he never actually makes physical contact with you.

"I just came over here to tell you that you missed the trash can," he points to the bin that you threw your cupcake away at—or at least you thought you did. You look at him, noticing the pastel pink uniform and his name tag.

"Oh," you manage to say. "I-I'm sorry, I'll pick it up. It's just—I thought you were someone...I mean you look so much like him."

He looks confused as he struggles to put together your words, as he simply got annoyed with you trashing his workplace with your unfinished food.

"Jisung," you read his name tag aloud. "Jisung, how long have you been working here?"

"About two weeks," he shrugs.

You nod. It still doesn't make sense that he had the exact same face as your torturer—the same voice too!  You struggle to maintain eye contact with him, expecting the red pupils to make an appearance any minute. But he seemed like a completely different person. He was kind of awkward, shy almost. He wore his hair differently, his eyebrows barely visible under the blonde locks that covered his forehead, unlike the perfect middle part you were used to. That way you could see his eyes clearly when he watched you writhe in fear, that ever so wicked smile would appear when you tried to scream.

You swallowed thickly as you apologize again, making your way to pick up your cupcake when his voice stops you.

"Who is it by the way? Who do I look like?"

You freeze, the tone of his voice alarming as if he knew something. Or maybe it was all in your head. You turn slightly to face him, his head cocked curiously at you, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Some guy I know. He's an awful person...if you can even call him that," you say and then you turn around not caring to see his reaction, quickly cleaning up your mess before squabbling out of there.

-

You don't visit the cafe again. It's been three days since then and you've still been getting the same nightmare except for the new addition of Jisung's cheap name tag. You weren't even sure if they were the same person but all of it seemed impossible either way. How could you dream of someone you haven't met? And if it truly was him that tortured you in your sleep, was he that evil creature in real life too?

You begin to cry. You just wanted it to stop. You hide your face in your bookbag as you wait in the cold.  The firm cemented steps offer your bottom no comfort as tears dampen the collar of your shirt. You had fainted in class from exhaustion and now the nurse was sending you home early.

As if you weren't already embarrassed enough a group of people walked passed you during your meltdown—no doubt ogling at your crumpled figure. One of them stops and heads back towards your direction. You cringe, waiting for them to walk past again except they don't. They stop right next to you. You really didn't want to be bothered right now—wasn't it obvious? You kept your head down, hoping if you didn't acknowledge the person they would go away. Maybe it was working. They're backing away now. Thank god—

"Uh, hey, are you alright?"

You squeeze your eyelids shut as a string of curses run through your mind. You give a curt nod of your head, your face still nuzzled into your bookbag.

"I remember you," the voice pauses. "You're not crying because you missed the trash can again are you?"

You slowly sit up to look at him, tears still streaming down your swollen cheeks. It was him. He found you again. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Bad joke?" he awkwardly chuckled.

"You don't go here," you state.

He was caught off guard by your response. He gives you a once over before sliding off his plum purple puffer jacket and placing it over your shoulders. Your eyes widen at the warmth that envelopes you. The jacket was nearly scorching but barely just warm enough to where it wasn't uncomfortable.

"My cousin goes here. Me and my parents are picking him up for my aunt as a favor."

You nodded not really believing him. "So you're skipping school to come with your parents?"

Jisung took the question as an invitation to sit next to you. "No, of course not. I'm homeschooled."

You frowned. It angered you his words made sense when every cell in your body told you he was lying.

"You wanna talk about why you were crying?"

You shake your head, looking back at your book bag as a strong gust of wind blew your hair wildly in your face. You shiver, closing the jacket tighter around you.

"Aren't you cold?" you ask.

He just shrugs, flicking the hair out of his eyes with a tilt of his head. "That guy I remind you of, you must not like him very much, huh?"

"Hate his guts," you grumbled.

"Whatever he did to you must've been bad because you treat me like I'm gonna bite your head off any second."

You look back at him with the toughest expression you could muster. "Who's to say you won't? What if you are the same person?"

"And what if I'm not?" he interjects. "What if I'm just me?"

"What are you trying to say?"

Jisung stares at you for a beat and you swear you see a flicker in his eye. "I'm not who you think I am. That's all."

He gets up and walks away just as your mom arrives. You stare at his back as he walks through the glass double doors, not even taking a second glance back.

Later that afternoon, you're stuck on the couch with your mother hovering over you. She's currently on the phone with the doctor while you're swamped in blankets with a wet towel on your forehead that's slightly blocking off your vision. She's frantic, making up symptoms you don't have as she paces around the living room space.

You huff, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. You sit up, removing the cloth from your forehead only for your mother to force you back down with an icy glare.

"Yes, we'll be there at 10:30 sharp," she writes the time down on a notepad.

"Yes, thank you so much...okay...bye."

"Mom," you call out as soon as she hangs up. "I gotta return my friend's jacket."

"You're not going anywhere in this state," she puts her hands on her hips.

You flop back on the couch dramatically. "But I told him I'd give it to him today," you lie.

"I think he'll understand," she says walking into the kitchen.

There was no way you could stay here another moment without getting answers. What did he mean earlier? You knew he was trying to convince you of something, but what?

"And what if I'm not?" he interjects. "What if I'm just me?"

Did he know about your dreams? Your head was beginning to ache and you weren't sure if it was because you were going to faint again or if your brain was starting to hurt from overthinking.

"I'm not who you think I am. That's all."

You double-check to see if your mom is paying attention before grabbing the jacket and your shoes, tip-toeing out of the front door. You hop on your bike and pedal like there's no tomorrow down the street to the computer cafe.

The ride feels longer than usual, the streets cold and barren. The grey sky threatened rain but as if someone were looking out for you from above, the heavy puffy clouds held out a little longer. You nearly get hit by a red pick up truck in your haste, gaining you a middle finger as he zoomed by angrily.

Out of breath and slightly dizzy, you step into the cafe, your eyes peeled for a familiar head of blonde hair. You're red in the face, bent over your knees as tears sting your eyes. You don't see him. He's not here.

The door opens behind you and you're too emotional to move out of the way. Whoever it was would just have to squeeze by.

"Oh, thanks, my jacket," Jisung says, standing beside you now.

You stand up straight, almost smiling in relief. Jisung was still dressed in his casual clothes; his shift must not have started until now. Suddenly you feel foolish for being so melodramatic. Here you were, your eyes still glossy and your cheeks still glowing a faint red from the cold ride and the wind whipping your hair against your face when it all seemed so dumb. Why were you here? To confront a boy you hardly knew about your nightmares? To accuse him of the impossible? You had everything you wanted to say planned out perfectly, imagining the weight that would lift off your shoulders ever since he left you at school but now, finally face to face, all those words died at your tongue.

You look at Jisung and stick your arm out, the jacket dangling in your hand. Jisung smiles brightly at you before taking it, the corner of his lips turning downward as he examines your face. He looks somewhat hesitant to bring it up but he does anyway.

"Is whatever was bothering you earlier still upsetting you?"

You nod, biting your lip.

"I was hoping leaving you my jacket would cheer you up somehow," he chuckled, his eyes thoughtful. "It was stupid."

"It did cheer me up in a way," you start. "It reminded me of something...but I'm ready to tell you what's wrong now."

The whites of Jisung's eyes became more visible as he looked at you, his lips parted slightly. He leans in closer, ready to hear what you have to say.

"Can we step outside for a minute?"

"Uhh," he glances at his watch. "Yeah, sure."

You walk out first, hearing his soft footsteps follow behind you. The sky is even darker now, even though you were only inside for a moment, the smell of rain in the air. The wind was strong, blowing the trees wildly.

You kept your back to him. "I've seen you before."

Jisung is silent for a moment. "You mean the guy who looks like me?"

"No," you correct him. "I've seen you before. You are the guy who looks like you. Aren't you? Except you act different."

"Huh? I just met you...how would I..." he trails off.

You turn around, tears threatening to spill over. You weren't afraid of him now, only in your sleep you were but for some reason, as you spoke, your heart thudded in your chest. You didn't feel in danger when you were with this Jisung. The Jisung that kindly asks you to pick up your trash and gives you his jacket in the cold. But the jacket...it was more than a kind gesture...something wasn't right about it.

"Why was your jacket so hot?"

His eyes fell low before looking back at you. "You and I meeting was fate, you know that?"

You frown. "What?"

"If you've seen me before then we must've met in your dreams correct?"

You take a step back. "How did you—"

"How did I know? It would take me forever to explain. But you're special, __."

A white flash illuminates Jisung's face, a loud crack of thunder echoing around you causing you to jump.

Jisung starts to laugh madly. Terror runs through your body as you start to regret coming here at all.

"What are you?" you ask, your voice shaking in fear.

Jisung smirks at you. "You know what I am, baby."

There's another crash of thunder and you nearly hop an inch out of your shoes. Jisung starts to laugh at you again.

"Are you going to kill me?"

He puckers his lips at you with a tilt of his head. "No. Why would I do that?"

"Isn't that what you do," you tutt, your throat tight. "In my dreams, you were always about to kill me."

"That's...no, I'm not like that," he clenched his fists at the statement.

"But you think it's funny to torture me? I haven't slept in over a month because of you."

"A month? No, that's not right. What happened in those dreams?"

A drop of water hits the top of your head but you ignore it. "Like you wouldn't know!" you answer, your brows furious and angry as you look up at your torturer.

"I have no control over your dreams. Can you tell me about them, please?"

"Nightmares," you correct. "Call them what they are. Don't act coy with me. Don't lie. If you're going to kill me then just do it already."

"I don't kill anymore!" his eyes flash red.

You gasp, you're blood running cold at the terrifyingly familiar image. You run away. You make it to your bike but before you can hop on, a hot hand grabs your arm, yanking your body off onto the damp pavement.

"Don't you run away from me!!" Jisung looks angry and maybe a little hurt by your actions but you don't care. You just want to get out of here.

"Just leave me alone, okay!" you get up to run away again but he lifts you again with one strong arm, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Your eyes bulge out of your head when you realize you can't breathe.

"You're pissing me off now. I don't want to hurt you but it's the only way to make you listen."

You struggle against him, your fingers clawing at his hand while he seems entirely unaffected. His nostrils are flaring, the pointy teeth now visible as he glares at you with those blood-red eyes.

"I don't control your dreams. The only person who can control your dreams is you. I only met you a week ago so stop accusing me of something not even I can do." And with that, he drops you.

You fall on the sidewalk, gasping and coughing. Your butt hurts from landing on it so roughly and your left arm stings, probably a cut from the fall but you don't check. You can't bring yourself to look away from him.

"What do you want from me?"

"Well, I can't tell you now," he scoffs. "I don't trust you."

A fat tear escapes your eye, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to make sense of reality. "Who the hell would believe me even if I told anyone??"

"There are those who believe we exist. Mostly the looneys of the church but I can't have you going around exposing me. Then I'd have to kill them all and I don't want to do that again. I'm reformed now."

Again?

"You said you're not who I thought you were. If you're not him then who are you?"

A gentle ring of thunder fills the thick air as it starts to rain. It's cold and uncomfortable but neither of you makes an effort to go back inside.

"I'm not a killer. That is, only if you don't make me out to be."

How could he say that when you could see the fangs that could tear your body in half. How could he say that when he almost killed you just now?

"You've killed people before," your voice waivers even though you will it not to. "You're a murderer. That's what your kind does to humans. Kill."

"Say it. Say what I am." Jisung crouches to your level. "C'mon. Say it."

Your body's shaking from how close he's gotten. You say nothing as he waits for you to respond. You remain silent.

He leans into your ear and whispers, "Either you say it on your own or I'll make you say it."

You let out a weak noise, turning your head away as he tucks your thick wet hair behind your ear.

"Demon," you wail, as tears blur your vision.

Jisung smiles triumphantly, pressing his warm lips to your forehead. Your body shrivels away from him as you scream, a fist landing on his hard chest. He takes your hand in his, keeping it on his chest, sliding your hand to the left and you feel something. Something that doesn't make sense. It's a heartbeat. It was a little faster than a normal one but it was still a heartbeat.

You look at him in shock, your mouth rendered speechless.

"I'm late for my shift," he gets up. "I'll see you soon. But remember what I said. You control your own dreams."

Jisung wraps his jacket around you once more with the obvious intent on having you return it again tomorrow. His eyes fade back to brown as he sends you one last smile and the awkward and kind Jisung is back almost as if he never left. He walks back inside the cafe, leaving you alone in the rain, shivering, wet, and traumatized.

-

A slightly chubby waitress decked out in tattoos with blue hair brings out your steak, medium rare, with a side of lightly salted fries as per Jisung's request. His order was something French that you couldn't pronounce, nor identify, but smelled heavenly, your mouth watering for the order that was not your own.

Jisung checks his expensive watch. "They're late. As usual."

"Hmm?" you snap your eyes away from his meal. "Who is?"

"We're here!" A beautiful older couple makes their way to your table.

"Mom! Dad! It only took you fifteen years," Jisung remarks as he leans in to give them a hug.

"It was your father, love. He got hung up with the gentleman at the sports club."

"Ah! It was business! You know how that sort of thing goes."

They both sit in their seats across from you, picking up their menus. His mother's hair is combed back neatly, her youthful skin glowing as she smiles pleasantly at you. His father is dressed rather casually, wearing khaki shorts and a baby pink polo but the giant rock on his pinky finger told you of his financial status.

"Oh my," says his mother. "And you, my darling, how are you? I've heard so much about you."

His father hums. "Ah yes, you're a special one aren't you? Haven't had a human dine with us in decades."

"Special? How am I special?" you ask, taking a French fry.

"Jisung, haven't you told her?" his father takes a sip of his sparkling water.

"Tell me what?" you look to Jisung.

The temperature in the room starts to rise and you break out into a sweat, fanning yourself with a napkin.

"Why would I tell her what she already knows?" Jisung answers, taking a spoonful of his soup.

You give him an odd look which he ignores and you decide to bite your tongue. A certain glimmer around Mrs. Park's neck catches your eye and you can't look away, like it was a magnet, drawing your eyes to it, willing you not to look away.

"Mrs. Park? That's a lovely necklace your wearing," you say marveling at the shiny red cut of the mysterious diamond. "May I ask what stone that is?"

Her lips curve a little, the pointed bones of her teeth peeking through. "That's a family secret. One that you'll know soon, my dear."

The waitress returns, notepad in hand, asking what the two would like to order.

Mrs. and Mr. Park smile sweetly at the young girl, giving her a long once over. "Yes, we'd like to have you for dinner."

She drops her pen from her notepad. "Excuse me?"

Mr. Park jumps up and snaps the poor girl's neck like a twig, catching her limp body as it falls forward. You scream in horror.

"Christ," Jisung rolls his eyes.

Mrs. Park rips her head off, dropping it carelessly to the ground with a thud. The restaurant is unbearably hot, and you're sweating through your lengthy dress. Your mouth is gaping as you helplessly watch them tear the woman to shreds picking off the meat on her bones and tear the flesh with their teeth. You look around to see everyone carrying on normally as if someone didn't just get ruthlessly murdered.

You can't pry your eyes away as they continue to feast on her carcass, blood dripping down their chins, red splatters tarnishing their clothes. Mrs. Park looks at you, that same smile from earlier still there but now it holds something dark behind it. Her eyes were that crimson red that you'd seen so many times. She crawls onto the table making her way towards you, and you scoot back falling out of your chair.

"I'm not who you think I am," she whispers.

"Wha-what?" you stumble backward.

"I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not..." she turns over on her back, her arm laying on your food, giggling wildly.

"You control your dreams, __" Jisung says standing up.

You look at him, bewildered.

"This is your dream. Control it."

A whack of thunder shakes the ground, yanking you out of your dream. Your heartbeat is irregular as you stumble out of your bed. Startled, you jump out of bed, pulling on your shoes and jacket, grabbing Jisung's coat along the way.

You left the house in haste, going to the only place you could think of. You needed to talk to him. Whether he'd show up or not was a chance you were willing to take.

You pedaled your bike down the cold, empty streets with the thought of Jisung on your mind. You were confused but you felt like you knew everything at the same time. It was so strange but you couldn't remember the last time anything felt normal.

The cafe was closed. The door was locked, obviously, so you let out a gust of air as you sat down against it. It was nearly 3 am and you left the house alone, loitering around some dumb computer cafe. What had your life come to? You don't even hang out with your friends anymore. You barely even speak to your family these days.

"Jisung!" you yell.

It was only a guess that he would show up. Maybe he'd hear you from wherever he was or maybe you could summon him? It sounded dumb but it made sense at the time.

You yelled his name once more, the desperation in your voice evident but still, nothing.

"Jisung, please," you whisper, your head falling into your lap.

Just as you're about to give up and go home, a blast of heat blows against your back in the strikingly cold morning. You gasp at the sound of the door unlocking behind you, jumping up to meet the boy you came to see.

Your eyes drank in his familiar face and dark clothes. "You came."

"Didn't you ask me to?" he tilts his head, giving you a sideways smirk that you never saw before. "Oh, Jisung! Oh, Jisung, please!" he mocks you and you frown.

"You need to loosen up a bit," Jisung clicks his tongue. "I don't think I've ever even seen you smile."

"I don't do that much these days."

"I see. Come in," he opens the door wider and you follow him into the warm cafe.

It's dimmer than usual, only half of the lights had been turned on and the absence of music almost made you uncomfortable. Jisung sat down at a random table and you cautiously sit across him. It feels as if he's examining every inch of your skin, his eyes slowly dragging over your face to the bottom of your torso where the table blocks his vision. It makes you antsy. You try to ignore the feeling.

"You heard me calling. How'd you do that?"

Jisung drums his fingers on the table in thought, "I don't really know. I've never been summoned before. I just heard you so I came."

"But how'd you get here so fast? Where'd you come from? Your home? Where do you live?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Now, why would I tell you all that? I don't trust you."

You sigh, chewing your bottom lip—a motion you caught his eyes following.

"Well...what can you tell me? I deserve some answers, don't you think?"

He laughs at that. "You don't deserve anything, human. I owe you nothing."

You press your lips together in annoyance. If he didn't want to tell you anything then why'd he show up? He seemed to have some interest in you by the way he keeps toying with you. You can't figure him out. He's hot then he's cold. One minute he's shy and sweet then the next he's rude and angry. But sometimes he was a mix of both, like right now. A happy medium of kind and a touch of asshole. But at least he wasn't going to kill you. You were sure of that. You couldn't explain why but ever since you had that nightmare this morning you had this feeling that he didn't want to hurt you—which was illogical of course—because he did, in fact, hurt you. You had the bruises to prove it. Your neck was covered in black and blue bruises with a distinct outline of five large fingers.

"I had another dream," you start and Jisung raises a brow at you. "I trust you. I don't know why but I have this feeling that I can't get rid of that you won't hurt me."

He frowns for a bit before he begins to chuckle. "My suspicions were true."

"What do you mean?"

"You want to know why you've been having those dreams?"

You nod frantically, bracing yourself for what he was about to tell you, but nothing could prepare you for the words that were about to leave his lips.

"You're destined to become my slave."

-

You come to on a leather couch in an unfamiliar room. It was a living room. A large one at that. You sit up, your head feeling heavy and full of fluff. Your shoes are sat neatly to the side of the couch along with your jacket. Standing up on sore legs, you stretch before looking around in what you could only assume was Jisung's house.

It's very...empty. Like it had been barely lived in. Almost as if no one lived here at all. The kitchen's beautiful, large and spacious with fancy looking cupboards. You walked down a long dark hall passing an extravagant dining room with a table that looked like it was a mile long and a chandelier that was so humongous it must've weighed more than your immediate family all together.

You hear the sound of water as you approach a room on your right, pushing open the door left slightly ajar. Jisung is staring right at you as if he knew you were coming. The bathwater is running and he's sitting on the toilet seat with a tub of bath salts in his hands.

"Morning, sunshine," he smiles cheekily at you.

You step into the steamy room, eying him with a groggy pout. "What the hell happened?"

He scoffs. "Of course you don't remember. I told you that you're my slave and you didn't handle it well."

You almost lose your balance, grabbing the counter just in time. "Pardon??"

Jisung rolls his eyes. "I made you a bath. You look like hell so I'll leave you to it," he gets up patting his jeans.

You didn't notice his change of clothes until now. Just how long had you been there?

"Hold on, I have a question. Several actually—"

"I'll be back in a bit," he stalks off closing the door behind him.

You open the door to call after him but he's nowhere to be found. It was like he disappeared into thin air. It wouldn't surprise you if he actually did. You return to the bathroom and disrobe, deciding you might as well. You couldn't remember the last time you took a bath. Must've been years. You pause at the mirror and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw how awful you looked. Jisung did not lie when he said you looked like hell. There were dark circles around your eyes and you looked pale, on top of that your hair was a frizzy mess. You finger-combed your hair to the best of your ability before giving up and sinking into the warm bath Jisung had drawn for you.

You let your mind reel as you sat in the tub, your knees tucked into your chest. Nothing made sense anymore. Oh, how you longed to go back to the life you had where the only thing you had to worry about was struggling with your math homework. If Jisung was telling the truth, then your life would never be the same. There had to be a way out of this, right? Maybe this is your punishment for something horrible you did but what? The worst thing you'd ever done was steal a couple of lipglosses from Target and that was two years ago. Or maybe it's because you lied to your mom about passing your Spanish test last month? You regretted it but it still seemed too small of a thing to be punished so greatly for. No matter how hard you picked your brain you couldn't come to a conclusion in any reality where you deserved this. You just wished you could get some answers soon. What would you tell your parents? Your friends? Would you have to leave them all behind? Did you have to do evil things now?

No, he said he changed. He wasn't like that. At least you hoped he wasn't. The scary thing is that you couldn't find it in yourself to care if he did make you do evil things. Just yesterday you would rather kill yourself than to do Jisung's evil bidding. You didn't like that you didn't mind it. You didn't like that nothing added up. You couldn't understand why in the world all of this had to happen to you. You didn't know where you were, how long you've been gone or what was going to happen to you. It all felt like a never-ending bad dream.

After you washed up and dried yourself, you sat idly on the toilet as the water drained from the bathtub. You felt a little better now that you were clean but you could feel the foreshadowing of an oncoming headache from the stress.

There was a gentle knock on the door, shaking you out of your pity party and you get up to open it. Jisung is in different clothing once again, wearing a hoodie and baggy dark jeans.

You stay there for three long days. You don't speak much in that time, but you feel like you know him a bit better. He wasn't as scary as you thought. After spending seventy-two hours together, you feel more at ease in his presence. He refused to discuss your circumstances and you never ask to go home. The thought never crosses your mind after the first day and you almost forget about your life at home completely. Instead, you spend all your time observing Jisung. You watch him cook and clean, sew and paint. He's perfected almost a million hobbies.   He doesn't acknowledge your existence as you watch, only bothering to speak to ask what you wanted to eat or if you were tired and wanted a bath. Contrary to your earlier thoughts, he never ordered you around. He left you to wander around on your own, doing as you pleased. Whether that be to read a book from his collection, watch a movie or watch him.    On the third morning, you're up early, sitting cross-legged in the bed of Jisung's guest bedroom. After taking a shower, you were stuffing your face with a bowl of oatmeal Jisung had so expertly prepared.

"You ready to go home? School should be starting soon."

Home. Your mother. Oh, shit.

"What time is it?" you tuck your damp hair behind your ears.

"Five thirty-seven."

Your eyebrows knit together as he tosses your uniform at you and you catch it.

"Hurry up," and with that, the door is shut in your face.

It only took you about a minute to change and then you were scampering down the hall to the living room where Jisung was waiting patiently, sitting as still as stone.

"Good then. Let's go."

"Wait," you grab his sleeve and Jisung stares down at your hand as if it were alien.

"Can you please tell me what's going on now? I'm going insane here."

He sighs before motioning for you to sit down. You quickly oblige, plopping down on the couch and he sits opposite of you.

"Sometimes, there are certain circumstances where a demon who does their job very well would be rewarded by Satan by being gifted their very own human slave.

"It's very rare actually, and Satan stopped doing it centuries ago bc it led to us being discovered. Then he had to "handle" it so I'm not sure why he gifted you to me. Does that answer all your questions?"

You give him a pointed look. He sighs.

"I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what's going on either; I don't even work anymore."

"What do you mean you don't work?"

"I'm retired. I don't like causing harm to humans and Satan let me settle down up here."

"Satan sounds awfully nice..." you frown a bit.

Jisung rolls his eyes slightly. "Oh, believe me. He isn't. Satan lives up to his name just fine. He let me go under special circumstances."

"So you're special?"

"Yep."

You folded your arms over your chest. "How so?"

"My parents and I were really good at doing what we do. The best actually. For centuries we were the apple of Lucifer's eyes. I mean, we got the best treatment, luxury lifestyle, the other demons didn't dare mess with us. It was almost like...heaven."

You purse your lips, feeling uncomfortable with the comparison to heaven.

"One day, I met a human I was assigned to and she was different than any human I'd ever seen. I was supposed to influence her to sin but I just couldn't no matter how hard I tried. This human was the purest of any kind I'd met and she was so young. The young ones are supposed to be the most malleable but she always resisted. She was good.

I realized something then. I thought, maybe not all humans don't deserve to go to hell. Some do. Some don't. And without the influence of us, a lot of them would go to heaven. After doing it for so long, I started to feel guilty. I've never been human. I was born like this. I never experienced a human life but I wanted to. So I asked to retire."

You were sure your eyes were bulging out of your head but you were too shocked to try to change your expression. "And he just let you go? Just like that?"

"Yeah. Satan wasn't happy. He thought it was stupid, which, it might be a little. A demon can't live like a human. He claimed after a few decades I'd see humans for what they really were and then I'd be back."

"So, then Satan made me your slave to try to convince you to come back?"

"I'm not sure," he flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes. "But Lucifer doesn't do anything without a purpose. I'm sure we'll find out soon."

"Will you go back?"

"I don't want to but if I have to then I will. It's what I was created for."

"Oh," you were lost on what to say next.

"Are you ready to go back home?" He stands up, holding a hand out to you.

You're about to take it when the doorbell rings. Jisung looks frigid. Was that fear in his eyes?

"My parents are here."

"Huh? Why?" The scenes of your dream flash in your mind. The headless waitress and blood gushing everywhere. If they were anything like the dream version of them then you were dead meat.

"I don't know. They're not nice people, __," he warns.

"Should I run? Or hide?"

"There's no point; they'd find you. Just sit still and don't say a word."

Jisung walks to the door, opening it to reveal two faces you've seen before. His mother didn't look pleased to see her son but his father pulled him in for a quick hug, patting him on the back.

"Well, are you going to invite us in? We knocked this time. Just like you asked," his mom says with a hint of annoyance.

Jisung steps back to let them inside and it's like an alarm goes off in their heads because as soon as they step one foot inside, their heads snap to find you sitting on the couch.

"Oh...you have company," his father says in confusion.

"Jisung, what is this?" His mom looks at you in disgust.

"Mom, Dad, this is __. We were just on our way out, actually. So, this is a bad time."

His mom shoots him daggers with her eyes. "You aren't going anywhere we just got here. Jisung, where are your manners?"

Jisung stands there, looking defeated as he mumbles an apology.

"Hello, there! I'm Mrs. Park," she extends a hand out to you. You look at Jisung before getting up to shake it.

"Mr. Park," his dad shakes your hand next. Their hands are just as hot as Jisung's. You shuffle back to your spot on the couch.

"Is this your friend, Jisung?" Mrs. Park asks, looking you up and down.

"She's my slave, mother."

His parents look at each other in shock, smiles of joy creeping across their faces.

"Lucifer gifted you a slave?" Mrs. Park practically jitters with excitement.

"Yes, mother."

"Son, that's amazing! You have to come back now!"

Jisung clenches his fists at his sides. "I'm not coming back. Not now. Not ever."

"Don't be silly, Jisung. It would be extremely disrespectful not to after receiving such a gift. He stopped gifting slaves centuries ago," Mrs. Park snaps.

"Mom, I made my decision."

"You foolish boy. You're an embarrassment to us all. We've been forced into hiding ever since you left. We're the laughing stock of the underworld because you decided to go soft and ruin the reputation we worked so hard to build. Two centuries of hard work down the drain."

"Mother—"

"Don't you understand? This isn't a gift it's a warning. You've been gone too long, Jisung. He wants you back. You've had your fun living your little fantasy; now it's time to come back to reality."

"Son, please," Mr. Park sits down next to you. "Listen to your mom."

"I...no. No, I'm staying here," says Jisung.

"You're so selfish! He won't just punish you he'll punish us all! Me and your father will be extinguished right along with you. My dearest son, please use the common sense I gave you and come back to us. I've missed you. We were a great team."

Jisung looks torn as he looks at you then back to his parents. "I have to get going."

"Jisung," Mr. park barks.

"Please leave," Jisung opens the door for them.

"You're going to get us all killed," Mrs. Park snarls as she nudges her husband to get up. "Close the damn door, Jisung. We're leaving."

Jisung closes it, his back falling against the wall.

"We're not done talking about this," his mother declares before looking at you one last time, the corner of her lips turned downwards. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you as the couple dissipate right in front of you, fading into a silhouette and then finally nothing. They're gone.

Jisung opens the door again. "Come on."

   The ride to your house is silent and too quick if you were being honest. Jisung lives fairly close to your house although in a much better neighborhood for someone who's living off of minimum wage.

   You're still a bit shaken up but much calmer than before. Once you enter the house, you find the lights off. Your mom was still asleep. You thank god as you creep to your room as quietly as possible. When you open the door, however, your mom is sitting on your bed holding a book in her hands. Was that your diary?

"Y/n, just where have you been all night?"

You deflect her question. "Why do you have my diary?"

"This is my house and my rules. I am your mother for Christ's sake; I have the right to know what's going on in my daughter's life and if you won't let me in, damn it, I'll find out my own way."

"That's a complete invasion of my privacy!"

She looks taken aback at your brazen comment. "Raise your voice at me one more time—I dare you! You were out with that boy from the computer cafe, weren't you?"

"What? No! My friend, Deana broke up with her boyfriend and it was an emergency. I had to go talk to her."

She narrows her eyes. "Don't you lie to me."

"I swear it! It's true," your bottom lip trembled as you held back tears.

You wanted to tell the truth but you couldn't. Jisung wouldn't like that very much and quite frankly, you were simply terrified of what his parents might do to you more than your angry mother. Would she believe you anyway? You didn't have any proof. She'd probably lock you up in some psych ward hundreds of miles away from here at the first mention of demons. Or maybe she'd just think you were lying. Her face was red with fury but you can tell by the slight quiver in her voice she was more worried about your safety than anything.

"I know somethings going on," she rests her hands on her knees. "You've been having sleepless nights and you don't go out as much anymore. And now there's some boy who comes out of nowhere and you're running out to meet him when you've got a fever. You scared me half to death and I just let it slide but now you're sneaking out and coming back three days later at six in the morning?

"No ma'am. This is not how I run my household. You know that. I mean is it me? Did I do something to make you wanna push me away?"

Your throat aches as you choke back tears. "No, mom, it's not that at all. I just have to solve this on my own."

She looks heartbroken but nods nimbly. "But you'll come to me if you can't figure it out on your own?"

"I promise."

"Good," she stands up. "We're leaving in ten minutes so hurry up and get dressed. Oh yeah, and you're grounded."

You couldn't say you didn't see that coming.

-

When you get home from school, your mother's in the living room. She usually doesn't get off of work for another two hours but it wasn't that hard to think of the reason why she was home so early. She asks about school and you say whatever it takes to end the conversation as soon as possible so you can go to your room. You lock the door behind you when you're finally alone, changing into more comfortable clothes. You make sure your mom's still downstairs before you whisper Jisung's name and a warmth envelops your body from the tip of your tongue down to your toes. He appears before you in seconds, wearing his work uniform. He doesn't look at you at first, inspecting the interior of your room before making himself comfortable on your bed.

"Your mom didn't seem too happy about this morning," he sighs.

"How did you know that?" you ask and for some reason, you think, you might be better off not knowing.

"You and I are connected now. I can see you whenever I want. I can...feel you."

You gulp. You didn't like the thought of him checking up on you whenever he wanted. And what's worse is that if you ever tried to run, he could find you.

"Right...well I have a question."

"Oh, you're just full of those, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes. "If you go back to working for Satan...would he allow you to let me go?"

Jisung's face hardens. You could feel the warmth in the room grow.

"Why would you ask me that? Do you know what you'd be asking me to do?"

"I'm sorry," the words leave your mouth at lightning speed. It's odd. You didn't want to say them but you did.

"Am I really so awful you'd rather send me away to do the devils bidding than to be stuck with me?"

"No, not at all," you say this on your own this time. It should worry you how true it was. You truly didn't mind his company. It took some time to separate the man from your dreams to the one in reality but once you did, you saw the good in him—once you overlooked all the sarcasm, of course.

"Don't get offended, please. That's not what I'm trying to do here," you approach him. "I just want my life back."

There's a flicker of emotion in his eyes. He sighs. "I suppose, you're right. It's selfish of me to impose on your life when you didn't ask for any of this. I'll take my problems elsewhere and leave you be."

You're surprised at how quickly he gave you what you wanted. You expected to have to squeal your way out of it. It was so easy you almost felt bad for asking.

"There won't be any consequences? He won't get mad if you leave me alone?"

"I'm not sure what he'll do. Just as I can see you, he can see me," he pauses. "Whatever the outcome, I'll handle it."

He stands up and you stand up with him.

"Is it weird that I'm going to miss you?"

His eyebrows fly up and he almost looks embarrassed. "Uh, I'm sure that's just a side effect of being my slave."

"I see," you look down feeling awkward. "Can I get a hug?"

You can tell he's uncomfortable with the request but he opens his arms for you anyway. You hate how attached you've become in the last twelve hours. You hardly knew the man and after meeting his parents you shouldn't be standing anywhere near him. But you still felt a pull towards him and you weren't so sure if it was a side effect. Maybe you were crazy—actually, scratch that, you were definitely crazy—but you actually kind of liked Jisung. He protected you from his parents and was willing to take whatever the devil was going to throw at him. So you lay your head on his chest and the heat is already scorching your skin. The fast rhythm of his heartbeat almost rocks you as his hands wrap around your shoulders and you stand there for a moment. He was a little stiff but you could tell he was trying his best. When you let go, his face is different. He's smiling at you and there's this gleam in his eyes that you'd never seen before. Then there's something pulling you towards him, an unexplainable compulsion to kiss him. He doesn't move as you lean in to peck your lips on his warm ones. It's like his limbs are frozen and for the first time in his life, he doesn't know what to do. He's never encountered someone like you before. Someone so beautiful and smart. You were the only person that could ever make him feel anything other than complete misery and he was so sad to let you go. He didn't want to let you go and he didn't have to. You were his slave, after all. But you had asked him to and he couldn't find it in him to deny you. Finally, his instincts kick in and his eyes close as he kisses you back. It's the most intimate kiss you've ever had and you find your hands pulling his shirt to pull him closer to you, wanting more but suddenly he's gone. You look around your room to find it empty. He left. He left you. Just like you asked.

"Jisung?" your voice breaks as you call out. "Jisung??"

Your door bursts open causing you to flinch.

"Hey, what do you feel like for dinner?" your mom walks in. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

   You try to stop the tears from falling but you fail as you burst into sobs. Your mom runs over and hugs you, begging for you to tell her what's going on but you can't. You can't tell anyone. No one could ever know.

-

   You think about Jisung every day for the next two years. How could you not? His face was branded into your mind, his voice a never-fading memory. You like to think he was okay. That whatever battles he had to face with his creator went successfully. You hoped he was free and happy. You imagine he watches over you from time to time, just to see how you've grown and what you were up to.    For some time, he's everywhere you look. You'd see a flash of blonde and go running to catch him, no matter where you were. In the end, you never caught him. It was always your mind playing tricks on you. Your friends and family grew concerned but those concerns faded away as the spottings did. Every hot summer day reminded you of him. Even the heaters in the winter made you think of him. He was always in the back of your brain.    After a while, it felt like it was all one big fever dream. The only reminder that it was real was the poorly written entries of your old diary. That, and one other thing.    One day, you come home to find a necklace on your bed, the glowing red stone flaring up the memory of the matching one his mother wore. He was alive. He hadn't forgotten about you. The smile that adorned your lips was big enough to give one the impression it was a gift from your lover. You vowed to wear it every day, thanking Jisung aloud, and you swear you feel his presence in the room for a moment, a rush of heat flowing into your bedroom and then it's gone.

[teenytinystorage]

A Poolside Chat

Summary: A relaxing dip in the pool to add to his wonderful birthday soon turns into a surprising and gay-panic-festered chat between Roman and Logan.

Word Count: 1,804

Warnings: Multiple food mentions

Pairings: Logince

Happy birthday Roman! Enjoy the Logince, y’all :)

—

As he shut the Imagination’s door behind him, Roman let out a satisfied exhale and fell back, shifting the grasses below him into a pool and landing upon a circular dragon-witch floatie.

He then transformed his usual outfit into a pair of bright red, gold-embroidered swim trunks and a pair of yellow sport sunglasses.

The sun blazed above, but this being the Imagination, the heat was nowhere near oppressive. A cool breeze was only a hand-wave away, and so was a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Peace enveloped him as he let himself drift upon the waters and reflect upon how his birthday had been going thus far.

He woke up to a birthday cupcake (red velvet, of course), and a burst of writer’s inspiration. Then Roman received his individual birth wishes from the other sides throughout the day, each giving him a gift.

They were all standard for each side: one Nightmare Before Christmas poster reluctantly given by Virgil (“No bugging me for any more posters after this, though.” “You got it, Sappy.”), a maroon pair of comfy floor-sticky socks from Patton, a free “no vibe checks for one day” pass from Remus, a pile of Thomas’s nostalgic Playbills from Janus, and a promise of a birthday cake later from Thomas (delivered, not homemade. Who knows how that’d turn out).

And now he sat at his very own pool, relaxing and drifting under the clear sky.

A lovely day indeed, but he soon found himself grappling with hurt as he realized who was missing from that gift list. Logan.

Roman hadn’t seen the nerd all day. No one even knew where he was, especially not Roman. He was looking forward to spending some time with Specs today. Seeing his clear, pristine face, hearing him ramble on about how uncanny having a cupcake for breakfast is, being near him, and maybe even getting to playfully elbow him to feel those cold, strong arms of his…

Roman felt a dopey grin line his cheeks, and although he hadn’t changed the temperature of the Imagination, some warmth coated his face and ears upon the thought.

But, alas, he hadn't seen Logan today. Roman decided that was, ultimately, okay. It meant fewer times for him to embarrass himself, after all.

He took another breath in of the air, coconut and citrus-scented, and dipped his hands into the water-- a door near him creaked open.

Roman didn’t mind it at first. Probably a side giving him a reminder of spaghetti dinner tonight, his favorite meal, or just to check on him.

It was only when the figure’s silhouette entered his shades’ vision did he feel the warmth from before burning him.

“Roman? Are you in here?” Logan called, wringing his hands as he strolled through the Imagination.

Roman secretly wished for his dragon-witch floatie to devour him in its plastic casing. It, sadly, didn’t. But his sunglasses vanished from his face. So that was something.

“Down here!” Roman waved, minimizing the lovesick smile he felt bubbling inside into a cheerful grin.

Logan’s gaze drifted down to him as he approached the outskirts of the pool.

Roman waved again, chuckling. One tick onto his “how many times can this lovesick dope humiliate himself today” list.

Logan crouched down next to the pool, his tie dangling down and nearly dipping into the water. “Greetings, Roman.”

“Hi!” Roman said with enthusiasm. He tried and failed to hide how overjoyed he was.

“It appears my daily attire is unfit for this setting, hm?” Logan noted, standing back up. “Here.”

He swiped his hair up with his hand and shifted from his usual polo and slacks to a pair of black swim shorts.

“There we go. Normally I’d wear a swim shirt as well, but since this is the Imagination, I can’t imagine that I’d be getting any sunburns.”

“I can’t imagine so either,” Roman agreed, forcing his drifting eyes to look back up into Logan’s rather than staring at his bare chest.

Gosh, did he have it bad.

Logan crouched down again and submerged his feet into the water, kicking them back and forth against the pool wall. “So Roman, how has your birthday been going so far?”

“Uh, good,” Roman nodded, leaning on his elbows atop his floatie. “Just the usual birthday routine, y’know? Gifts, desserts, fun, all that-- fun stuff.”

He barely avoided slapping himself.

“I’m quite glad to hear that,” Logan added, his hands moving behind his back. “You deserve to be having a good birthday today.”

“Oh, well, that means a lot, Specs. Thank you!”

“Of course,” Logan bit his bottom lip, glancing away.

Roman let out an awkward chuckle before taking notice of Logan’s hidden hands. He paddled himself over to the wall and floated a few inches in front of Logan. “Whatcha got behind your back there?”

“Ah, it’s…” Logan stopped. He took in a breath.

Roman leaned over, trying to sneak a peek. He couldn’t see what it was, though, so it couldn’t be anything big. “It’s?”

Logan ran one of his hands through his hair and took in another shaky breath. “A gift. For you.” He hesitated, closing an eye, before shoving out his hand and revealing the gift.

It was a red rose, roots still intact.

Logan flinched, looking back at Roman.

Roman dumbly stared at it. “A rose, hm? It’s quite pretty.”

“Yes. A red one, at that. Red. A symbolic color. Happy birthday,” Logan rambled, his arm pulling back a tad.

Roman paddled himself closer, somehow planning on accepting the rose and putting it… where? How would he even get it without falling off the floatie? He didn’t think it through at all, just like anything he did around Logan.

“Did I do this wrong?” Logan asked, curious. “I thought a single red rose signified romantic feelings between people.” He inspected the flower down-up, staring at its roots. “Is it the roots that threw you off? I had a sneaking suspicion that the roots were unnecessary, but I couldn't be sure.”

“Roh… romantic feelings?” Roman stammered, gaping at Logan.

“Yes. That’s right, isn’t it? The internet isn’t always a reliable source, however…” he reasoned, “I spent all day making sure this flower would imply the correct meanings… and maybe also just milling about nervously.”

If he felt warm before, Roman was smoldering now. Like all his cells were replaced with stoked coals. He was probably as red as his swim trunks, too.

“I… I…” Roman tried to sit up from his floatie, still barely comprehending the confession just spoken to him.

But his arm slipped, and he squeaked as his floatie tipped off-balance and caused him to plummet into the pool.

“Roman!” he heard Logan call before he met his aquatic fate.

The cool waters rushed over his burning skin, and he was quite thankful for that. But he found a chilly grip resting on his hand, and soon, another splash met the water.

His blurred vision faintly recognized Logan’s flushed, clear figure ahead of him. Logan’s hair floated above his head in a flowing tuft, and his eyes were shut behind his soaked glasses.

Roman was swimming with a real-life Poseidon.

He would’ve stayed to enjoy the view, but his eyes started to burn and his lungs were pleading for air. Roman breached the surface, bobbing on the water and taking in a long breath of air.

Logan rose out right after, a small coughing fit following.

“You okay?” Roman frowned.

Logan nodded, removing his glasses and taking in a breath as he waded in the waters.

Roman then realized Logan was one of those rarities who looked hot even without their glasses. Unfair! his mind cried as his body warmed once more.

“So, you like me?” Roman said, “Like, you like like me? For realsies?”

Logan nodded, “I do. Like like, you. Or love you, in clearer terms. Or am utterly and illogically infatuated with you, in my own terms.” He glanced over to the rose that lounged alone where he sat before.

Roman grinned like the lovesick fool he was.

“Well,” Roman turned, scratching his neck and looking at Logan through his eyelashes. “I like you too.”

Logan looked back at Roman, holding his glasses in his hands. His calloused, cynical expression softened into a calm, admiring one.

Before Roman could stop himself, he swam to Logan and gave him a peck on his exposed widow’s peak.

He then cupped Logan’s cheek and smiled wider. “I hope that suffices as a worthy reply to your rose.”

Logan glanced down, a small smile quirking his lips as he flipped his hair back-- then Roman could barely react to the new feeling of Logan’s lips on his.

The edges of Roman’s smile curled up before he melted into the moment, Logan’s tangy softness taking over all his senses. He released Logan's cheek and wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders to pull him closer. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around Roman's waist.

The kiss ended what seemed like years after as Logan pulled away, his eyes fluttering in that pleasing way only kisses could spur on.

Roman, despite still being above the water, wanted to submerge himself inside this moment forever.

“Hey there, kiddos,” a voice dripping with uncomfort echoed. “Uh, bad time for a five-minute supper warning, huh?”

Logan and Roman yelped at the interruption, separating and turning to face the awkwardly grinning Patton standing at the foot of the pool.

“Thank you for the warning, Pat!” Roman took all his remaining energy to act as normal as possible while still being drunk from the kiss. “We’ll be there soon.”

Patton nodded and quickly dismissed himself, sinking out.

Roman turned to Logan and broke out in laughter.

Logan joined in, and soon, both of them couldn’t stop laughing as they bobbed in the water.

Roman then lifted himself up onto the pool’s wall and sat on its tiles, spilling water everywhere around him. He raised his hand out to Logan and beamed.

“You coming, nerd?”

Logan put his glasses back on before he grabbed onto Roman’s hand.

“Sure am, prep.”

Roman tugged Logan out of the water and watched as Logan sat next to him, grasping the rose and offering it to him once more.

“I now accept your rose,” Roman cooed, taking it from Logan and taking a brief whiff before sending it off to his room.

Logan then summoned two towels, brandished with their respective logos, to dry off with. They both wrapped the towels across their shoulders and stood to make their way to dinner.

But before they left, Roman gave Logan a small smooch on the lips and grasped onto his hand again.

Logan’s lips turned upward with his own foolish, lovesick smile.

Two sugary desserts, a takeout spaghetti dinner, five gifts, a boyfriend, and three kisses? Roman tallied.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

—

[tvntae]

heartbreak hotel 5.1

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff, slight humor word count: 1.4k

Your heart races as Jungkook deepens the kiss. You can't help but feel uneasiness, and it causes you to push him away. You see him lose his footing for a second and you so desperately want to reach out and help him correct yourself, but you don't. Opting to stay as stoic as possible. Once Jungkook gets himself as presentable as possible, he clears his throat. You flinch for a second, but it goes unnoticed by him as he closes his eyes and inhales a deep breath. The silence is unbearably uncomfortable, and if you had the will, you'd be shooting out of your home as soon as possible. Jungkook gives you a look of vexation, and you gulp, he's pissed.

Beyond pissed actually and you don't know the first thing to say to him to help this situation. Abruptly Jungkook storms past you without saying a word. You try trailing behind him into your living room, but he's walking so fast it's hard to keep the same speed. Within the next moment, you hear your door swing open and slam shut, and you halt in your tracks. He's gone. And for some strange reason, it leaves a feeling of dread inside of you.

To see him leave so suddenly with not so much as a goodbye, it sort of hurt. He seemed upset, but what were you to do about that? You're nobody to him, just another one of his office workers and that's what you would always be. That night with him, those nights spent with him, they didn't mean a thing to him. He only kissed you out of pity. That had to be it because why the hell else would, he have done that? He's engaged to possibly the most gorgeous woman in South Korea, he's one of the wealthiest men in the city, and Jungkook could have perhaps anything he's ever imagined. He would never want you. And to add salt to the already festering wound, he's your boss. Someone you have to work side-by-side with damn near every day of every waking hour. The next day in the office drags by slow, Jungkook had barely so much said a word to you and you, him. He chose to communicate with you via brief emails. And you were quite relieved about it. The air was intensely awkward when you had stepped foot in your workplaces common area. It had felt as if those around you knew exactly what had transpired between yourself and Jungkook. But how would they have known? You'd just been so paranoid; lately, you can't speak more than two words when someone asks you how things were going now that you'd been promoted. You had rushed between room to room to get whatever the hell you needed and raced back to your room. Curse Jungkook for not putting a working printer in your office. "I have a favor to ask of you," you jump at the familiarity of the sudden voice echoing throughout your small office. It's your lunch break, which means it's also Jungkook's as well. Being his personal assistant means the two of you share similar schedules. He often apprises you for not taking lunch the same time he does. Your vision follows the sound of his voice, and you nearly choke on your sandwich when you see the new hair color he's sporting. You think back to your first few days starting at Nochu, and you correctly remember reading in the Manners and Work Office Etiquette Manual that unnatural hair colors were a violation of dress code. You bite your lip in warning as you try hard not to release the loud, unattractive laugh in your throat at your bosses very bright, blindingly bright might you add, pink locks. He rolls your eyes as he gauges your reaction, but you can see the small amount of amusement that graces his lips. "Yes sir, how may I help you?" You clear your throat and stand up, tossing away any leftovers from your lunch. Jungkook frowns at your formalness. After everything that's befallen between you two, you are not quite sure if it's still appropriate to be on first name bases with him anymore. Jungkook brushes it off nonetheless, as he sweeps his large hand through his hair. "My hair," he starts as he begins to walk further towards you and you freeze just for a second, trying to focus on the situation at hand and not how tight his pants are around his muscular thighs. He stutters for a second or two, trying to find the correct wording to use to further better explain the sticky situation he's currently in. "Is pink." His shoulders slump at that. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, you can tell, but no explanations were really needed in the first place. Jungkook looks crestfallen at your blankness. At this moment, he looks so much like a child, a hint of playfulness behind his eyes, and you want nothing more than to pinch his cheeks. It's the Jungkook you admire so much more than all the other personas he comes with. It's easier to talk to him this way. It feels as if you two are just two young adults enjoying each others company. You tread cautiously though, the last thing you want right now is to see him as angry as he was last night. "How do I... fix it?" His voice is small as he gestures towards his head. You sort of feel honored that Jungkook came to you first. I mean, he could have done a quick Google search, and he would have had his answer within milliseconds, considering South Korea is known for having the fastest internet. However, he asked you, a person that has absolutely no idea how to strip chemicals from human hair, or any hair at that. You ponder his question trying to look as solemnly as possible, but it's proven hard as Jungkook musters up the best set of puppy dog eyes you've ever seen. You smile, and he steps closer to you and grabs your hand, gently holding it in his own. You almost tug away from him but flashbacks of yesterday appears, and you fight to stay perfectly still in his grasp. "Meet me in my office when your shift is up." He breathes and squeezes your hand in his before he drops it and just as fast as he appeared, he vanished.  Leaving you with a ghost feeling of his soft touch and an ache below that you longed to be satiated. What was this man doing to you? Your legs bonce in anticipation as your nearing the end of your shift. You'd spent so much time thinking the inevitable that you had hardly gotten much done for your few remaining hours. You're thankful that Jungkook didn't have too much for you to do in the first place. He had you proofread a few of his documents and add in any knowledge you thought would be helpful. It was certainly something he didn't need, though, the guy was a genius. Still, you did as instructed and whatever other minuscule task sent your way. You organized your tiny desk for the last 5 minutes. It helped but clear your otherwise cloudy mind just for a meager amount of time. You grabbed your bag and jacket, which were laying haphazardly by the small non-working printer in the far corner of the room. With your personal belongings in hand, you set out to meet Jungkook in his office. His door to his office is wide open. Visible for any unsuspecting person to see Jungkook currently pacing back in forth, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. You clear your throat, loud enough to have your presence known and he stops. His eyes land on yours, and he smiles. Honestly, it's the brightest smile you've seen from him. For a while, he almost mirrors a bunny, his two front teeth on full display, and his eyes as bright as ever. "Thank you for coming y/n. I really needed help with this." Jungook says as he tugs on a baseball cap to hide his pink tresses. He jogs over to walk side-by-side and asks if you're all set to go. You nod and let him lead the way. "Where are we going anyway? You ask as the two of you enter Jungkook's car. "My place." He answers after a short while of silence. It's too late to jump out of the car seeing as he's already started the engine and his now pulling out of the vacant parking lot. You gulp at the thought of being in Jungkook's apartment. His multimillion-dollar apartment. "You okay with that?" You consent. Too afraid to say no.

[jamesdeerest]

i’ve moved on

pairing: james potter x reader, sirius black x reader

request: @gwen-devilliers asked “Hi! I'd like to request a young James potter one where he realises that he's moved in from lily & in love with reader, after having been oblivious for a while. Thanks! :)”

notes: i literally love james sm :)))) ik im shitty at writing for him but i lOVE HIM OKAY also i went kind of off the request. read to find outttt ;))

warnings: swearing.

word count: 2.7k holy shit

“oi, lily!” james said, waving enthusiastically at the redhead. she, however, just groaned, turning away. “god, i preferred it when he called me evans. he just doesn’t shut up.” lily muttered to marlene, who agreed sympathetically, as they left james behind.

james sighed, crestfallen. “sometimes, i wonder if i should just give up.” he said sadly. you laughed, whacking him on the shoulder. “you’ll never do that, james. she’ll come round eventually, i know it. now, if you’re down moping about, i’m hungry and it’s lunchtime. c’mon, slowpoke, race you there!” 

sprinting off, you cackled as james tripped over himself in his hurry to catch up. unfortunately, while you were looking backwards, you didn’t notice as you ran smack into... sirius. “whoa there, y/n. you okay?” he grinned, steadying you. you beamed up at him. “yup! just, you know, beating james.” you smirked. “again? damn, he’s getting slow. anyway, i’m starving, and i heard there’s treacle tart today. shall we, milady?” he said, offering his arm and putting on a posh accent. you grinned, taking it. “we shall, good sir.” and with that, you ran off, james and remus walking slowly to the great hall behind you.

“you know, sometimes i can see pads and y/n as a couple.” remus said, tilting his head. james scoffed, shaking his head. “pads and y/n?! no way. she’d never go for someone like him.” they kept walking, james deep in thought. “wait... would she?” remus raised an eyebrow, amused. “jealous, are we?” 

“what? jealous? no! why would i be jealous? i like lily, not y/n!” james spluttered, waving his arms around. remus held his hands up defensively, trying to calm him down. “chill out, prongs. i was joking, jeez.” he said, looking for you, sirius and peter as they entered the great hall. “yeah... joking...”

sirius cheered as they sat down, poking you. “oi oi! y/n, look who finally decided to show up.” you smiled teasingly. “where have you guys been? we’ve been here for hours, right sirius?” sirius rolled his eyes. “hours? more like days.”

“weeks!”

“months!”

“years-” 

“alright, guys, we get it. budge up, wormy.” remus interrupted, poking peter until he shifted along the bench to allow the other two to sit down. wordlessly, james started eating, remaining unusually silent as the group chatted, eyeing the closeness between you and his best mate. did they always sit that close together? you didn’t miss a trick, however, and furrowed your brow, concerned. 

“you alright, jamie? you look a bit... i don’t know, but you’ve never this quiet.” james’ lips parted in a small smile. “don’t worry ‘bout me. just a bit tired.” you yawned, resting your head on sirius’ shoulder. 

“tell me about it. i’m shattered, and it’s only midday!” instantly regretting using that excuse, he glared as sirius kissed your head. “aw, baby y/n! you can always sleep with me. on me!” he hastily corrected himself, eyes wide, glaring at the boys as they lost it.

peter was clutching his stomach, remus was snickering, you and sirius were bright red and james... james felt uncomfortable. “save it for the bedroom, guys.” remus smirked, dodging as you threw a sausage roll at him. “oh shut it, lupin.”

“oh shut it, lupin!” remus mocked you in a high pitched voice, sticking out his tongue.

you growled, immediately starting to retaliate when lily walked past with her friends. james immediately sat up, a wide grin on his face. “hey, lily! you look really nice today.” lily, who was previously laughing, sobered up, rolling her eyes at the boy. “leave me alone, potter.”

an awkward silence fell over the group as lily walked off, james flushing in embarrassment. you reached over the table to console him, but james gently pushed your hand away. “you know what? i’m done with chasing after her. forget her, i’m going to find someone who likes me for me.” sirius leaned over, clapping him on the back. “proud of you, mate. takes guts.” james smiled gratefully at him, before standing up as the bell rang. “right. what have you guys got next?” 

you groaned. “potions. kill me.” sirius shrugged, getting up and then offering a hand to you. “eh, we’ll die together then. i couldn’t live without you anyway, my love,” he said, swishing his hair dramatically. you got up, pretending to faint into his arms. “oh, my darling!” he picked you up bridal-style, making you squeak in surprise, your arms tightly wound round his neck, and walked off to potions.

remus cooed. “i told you so. they would be adorable together. c’mon losers, it’s transfiguration next and mcgonagall will kill us if we’re late.” peter hopped off the bench, finally finished with stuffing his face, and james followed behind them, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

later on after class had finished, the three made their way back to the common room. as soon as remus muttered the password to the fat lady (because peter had forgotten it, and james only remembered the one from the first day of first year) and the door swung open, loud laughter echoed up the stairs. you and sirius were rolling around on the floor by the fireplace, tears rolling down your cheeks. “his face!” sirius spluttered, his body heaving.

remus rolled his eyes at the pair of you, a fond smile betraying him. there was a brief lull as you caught your breath, coughing slightly, before you met eyes with sirius again, and started to giggle.

peter plonked himself down on the sofa, swinging his legs. remus sat next to him, and james slid into an armchair. “what are you two weirdos laughing about, then?” remus asked, eyebrow raised. 

“slughorn-” 

“sardines-” 

“snape-” 

“detention for three weeks-”

“worth it!” you grinned, before high fiving sirius.

peter and remus easily joined the conversation, but james sat silent, deep in thought. 

there was this uncomfortable feeling. every time he saw you and sirius together, he just felt so... angry! but why? he loved sirius, he was his best mate, and you were like a sister to him... right?

right?

peter’s eyes suddenly lit up, and he grabbed james’ arm, startling him out of his thoughts, and poked remus, glancing meaningly upstairs. remus nodded, and whilst peter and james headed upstairs, remus tried to think of an excuse. “peter wants us to look at his bunion, it’s gone a funny colour. be back in a bit!” 

sirius snorted, as you looked disgusted. “is that what you guys do when you’re alone?”

“my bunion?!” peter cried as soon as the door was shut. “i’m sorry! i had to think of an excuse fast, okay.” seeing as peter was about to continue protesting, remus cut him off. “what’s the plan?”

“plan?” james said, baffled. “what’s going on?”

both of them groaned, glaring at james. “we’re trying to set sirius and y/n up. keep up, james!” peter said, rolling his eyes. 

remus and peter started to talk fast, theorising ideas, but james went blank. sirius? and... you? what?!

“right. james, listen. we’re going to meet up at the three broomsticks tomorrow. but, we’re not going to turn up. so, sirius and y/n can have some alone time, and hopefully snog!” peter said enthusiastically, making remus roll his eyes. “look, forget the snogging. you can see they like each other, now we just need to give them a little shove in the direction, you know?”

“destination- snogging.” peter beamed, scowling when remus elbowed him. “we good, james? understand the plan?”

james nodded, his mind yelling at him to stop it. he pushed those thoughts out his head, however. they deserved to be happy.

you and sirius had moved onto the sofa, his head in your lap as you talked. the boys came down, and you looked at them, or more specifically peter, with an amused (and slightly grossed-out) smile. “how’s the bunion, peter?” 

peter flushed, glaring at remus. “it’s fine, don’t worry y/n. anyway, we were thinking we could meet up at hogsmeade tomorrow for lunch! like, elevenish at the three broomsticks?”

you smiled properly this time; it had been a long time since you’d all been to hogsmeade. “sounds great!”

“wha’s happenin’?” sirius slurred, having half fallen asleep due to you running your fingers through his hair. you laughed, smiling at him. “we’re meeting up at the three broomsticks tomorrow at eleven, sleepyhead.” you said with a yawn of your own, poking sirius till he sat up. 

“right, well, i’m going to go to bed. i need sleep.” you said, stretching. sirius smiled at you, as you snuggled into your jumper and opened your arms for a hug. he wrapped his arms around you, also nestling into your surprisingly comfy jumper. “gerroff.” you mumbled, heading up to the dorms but pausing at the top of the stairs. “night, everyone.”

you woke up, grumbling as the sunlight invaded your vision. “whoever didn’t close the curtains last night is dead.” you said, glaring at your sleeping roommates, before realising you were the last one up. oh well, guess you’re dead. no biggie, right?

after nipping in the shower, you got changed, opting for leggings and hoodie. it was six am, you were up, and you were not happy about it. 

after you had gently pulled the door shut, you tiptoed down the stairs, trying to let everyone else sleep, and made your way to the great hall, where the house elves were finishing up laying out the food. it was completely devoid of actual humans, except... sirius. he was sat at the end of the gryffindor table, munching on a bagel with his hair tied up. 

in spite of your foul mood, you smiled, sliding onto the bench next to him, reaching for the coffee pot and nearly filling your mug with the fast juice. sirius looked confusedly at you. “morning, y/n. what’re you doing up this early?”

“forgot to close the curtains, and so i’m pissed at myself. you?” 

sirius swallowed, taking a long sip of his coffee as you started loading up your plate with food. “you know, stuff.”

raising an eyebrow at him, you yawned. “what stuff?”

he shook you off. “long story.”

you stared at him blankly. “sirius, it’s half six. i’m pretty sure we have time.”

sirius laughed nervously, finishing off his bagel and spreading cream cheese on another one. “um... okay. you know how my mother... isn’t the nicest?”

you froze, fork halfway to your mouth. you hated sirius’ mother, and he knew it. “yes. i’m pretty sure the whole world knows that.”

he rolled his eyes, amused. “sometimes, i just... get caught up in my own head, you know? and i overthink... well now that i think about it, i overthink pretty much everything, merlin.”

“sirius.”

“mhm?” he said, already halfway through his second bagel.

“you’re overthinking overthinking. calm down, it’s okay. as your bestest bestie ever, i am your personal stress ball.”

sirius laughed, shaking his head at you. “you are something else, l/n.”

you flicked your hair, fluttering your eyelashes. “oh stop it, you.”

remus hadn’t seen sirius all day. and while that was key for the plan, he still found it a bit odd. when he woke up, sirius’ duvet was pulled back, he wasn’t at breakfast, and none of the boys had seen him swishing through the hallways.

as a matter of fact, he hadn’t seen y/n either. he smirked, realising they were probably together. the ship was sailing, no matter how weird james was being about it.

forget james, it was probably just lily blues. plus, it was half ten, and in half an hour he was due to not show up at the three broomsticks. him and peter had made a little hideout in the bushes so they could see in. he was just about to head off to hogsmeade when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

turning round, he saw lily, shifting on the spot. “hey, remus. i was wondering if you had seen james anywhere?” remus smirked, lily was a good friend of his even if she had disliked his glasses wearing best friend. “why you asking? confessing your love, are we?” he teased, raising his eyebrows when lily looked sheepishly at the ground.

“what?!” he cried, yanking her over to the window seat, and leaning in to shout-whisper at her. “since when do you like james?! i thought you hated james?!”

lily bit her lip, slowly turning as red as her hair. “i did... but i’ve been thinking about it, remus. i just... see him differently now.”

remus inwardly groaned; it was difficult enough setting up one couple in one day, he couldn’t do two. “look, as much as i want to help, me and the boys are trying to get sirius and y/n to go out. talk to me on monday, yeah?”

lily looked down, muttering a yeah as he hurried off. in a second, though, lily stood up, determined to tell james how she felt, remus be damned.

sirius and you walked up to the three broomsticks, immediately looking round for your friends. when you couldn’t find them, you turned to sirius, frowning. “it’s weird. i haven’t seen them all day, and now they’re not here either?”

sirius rubbed your hand reassuringly. “i’m sure they’ll turn up soon, y/n, don’t worry.” he said, as he walked up to madam rosmerta. “table for five, please.” rosmerta nodded knowingly; remus had already briefed her on the plan. she grabbed two menus and led them to a table, setting them down with a wink. “first date?” 

both of you flushed, eyes wide. “what? oh no, we’re not dating.” you hastily said, nervously meeting eyes with sirius.

“really? shame, you two’d be a cute couple.” she mused, before walking off to take someone’s order.

you looked down, heart racing, until sirius gently took your hand. “we would, wouldn’t we?”

you looked at him, shocked, but squeezing his hand. “what...what are you saying, sirius?”

sirius took a deep breath, before opening his mouth. “what i’m saying is... i li-”

the doors burst open, and lily rushed in, hurrying over to your table, making you spring apart. “hey lily! what’s up-”

“where’s james?” she heaved, out of breath. “um... i don’t know-”

“y/n!” james said, running through the open door, eyes lighting up when he saw you, ignoring lily’s cry of james!

“look, y/n, i’ve been thinking. about us. i li-”

“i like you!” lily near shouted, making all of you turn to her in shock. she immediately flushed at the attention, before she took james’ hands, locking eyes with him. “i like you, james potter.”

james stared, looking like (excuse the pun) a deer in the headlights. “lily, i’m really sorry, but... i like y/n.” he said, turning to you.

“what?!” you cried, flabbergasted. “james, i’m really sorry, but i... i like sirius.”

james stared at sirius, who smiled at you, taking your hand, before hurriedly saying something. “i like y/n too, by the way. this isn’t becoming a love square, sorry, lily.” 

lily chuckled bitterly, swiping a hand under her eyes. “it’s okay, sirius. i’m happy for you guys, you’re cute together. oh, and james?” 

james nervously looked at her, almost begging himself to feel those butterflies which used to overcome him just at the sight of her. but, nothing.

“it’s okay, too. i realised too late, and that’s on me.” she took a deep breath, before smiling. “i’ll see you all around, yeah?”

after she left, there was a silence, as you all refused to make eye contact. 

james swallowed, clapping sirius on the back. “you got a good one, mate. don’t mess it up.” he said, before leaving the pub with his head held down.

you leaned into sirius, just letting him hold you for a while, before he smirked at you. “you like me, huh? lame.”

“you like me too, loser.” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

“never said i didn’t.”

taglist: @blackpinkdolan @hoewkeye @shadylittlewonder @sassy-specter @im-eating-rn @knowledgeisthebomb

[jacobseedz]

Wrong - Thranduil x reader

requested by; @lucacangettathisass (sorry, luv, for making you wait for so long, but as i told you tumblr ruined everything ;_; hope you like it, i tried my best! *insert smiling face emoji*) 

summary; you’re quite younger than Thranduil, many say you only use him for his money, power and throne. 

sindarin in italics -> translated at the bottom

You were a quite young elleth, but mature in every other way. Your family was not royal, known or rich. Many people, elves, dwarves and other creatures only knew you from your work. Like making new robes, sewing, painting or even teaching elflings. 

 Once you were working on a new robe for Lord Elrond, when King Thranduil came into your chambers in Rivendell, saying he needed a new robe. It was the most awkward moment in your life, but definitely worth it as after some months of talking, drinking wine, you from friends became something much more. Of course your love blossomed so you decided to move into Mirkwood, staying within his Kingdom. It was an adventure to say the least. You, the lover of the King, nobody knew you, they give you questioning glances, but made way for their King nonetheless. You haven't stopped working, at times even helping Thranduils people. They all appreciated the extra help, and many grew fond of you. 

 On a special night, your anniversary, you asked to see his whole face.

 "No, Meleth, I do not want you to hate me." he said calmly, but his heart was beating like he just ran a marathon. 

 The only thing he was afraid of after his wife's death is your leave. You'd have nightmares, you'd look at him like he was a disgusting orc. However, you loved him too much, so you whispered sweet nothings into his pointed ear, assuring him you wouldn't ever leave him. It was quite strange to see two tears drop into his knees, but he showed you what the dragon did. 

After he turned your way he gasped, not understanding why you were still there, with him. You just smiled and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

                                                    **************

Today was no other day like before. It was the meeting of the Kings. Thranduil was to arrive in Dale to discuss important stuff. The dwarf King, Thorin Oakenshield, survived the battle, giving Azog a brutal death. He took over the Lonely Mountain, many dwarves came back from far lands to their rightful home.

All three kings came to an agreement, that didn't mean they liked each other, but they did sometimes give each other good advice. Like a King to another King. Simple as that.

Thorin once saw you with Thranduil and instantly fell in love. He envied the Elven King for stealing your heart, though that haven't stopped him from trying to get you. 

"Thranduil, you must be careful, that she elf of yours must not be trusted." thorin warned, lowering his gaze to the other King that stilled.

"And do tell me, why is that?" he asked, walking again.

Thorin let out a quiet growl, not liking what he was about to say next.

"It's in her eyes, your throne, your power, your money. As you told me once, she came from a poor family, what do you expect then?" he breathed out, trying to sound genuine. 

Thranduil's brows furrowed, not knowing if he's lying or telling the truth. But why would he lie? Thranduil knew Thorin longer than you and every advice given to him was true, so maybe he is right... 

"Where is Bard, I don't have all day." he changed the subject, quite uncomfortable. 

The dwarf King knew he struck a spot, the Elf is considering his words. Oh how wonderful, Y/N will finally be his, that's all Thorin wanted. 

When Bard arrived, everything went back to normal. Thranduil traveled back to Mirkwood, where Legolas, his only son awaited him.

"Mae g'ovannen, Adar. I am glad to see you." Legolas smiled. 

Their father - son bond was renewed. Occasionally they trained together, went riding or got rid of the nasty creatures living in the woods. They both were happy, well, Legolas only disliked you, he'd like you to leave them alone. Only his mother was meant to be with Thranduil and no one else. 

So the only thing he could think of was lying about you, one would've thought Thorin agreed with Legolas on this, though they both hadn't planned destroying Thranduils relationship. The Prince bribed his fathers most trusted adviser and member of the council, to make the King banish Y/N from Mirkwood, forever. 

"Ah, Ionneg, how did your training go?" he asked casually, nodding to his people. 

"Very well, but there is one matter I would like to talk over." Legolas said, his cheerful tone changing to a cold one.

The Elven King had enough of talking, but seeing his son's gaze it must've been something serious. He eventually led Legolas to his chambers. 

Taking a deep breath, he started, "... you know, we all worry about you and want what's best. On the other hand we cannot do that with Y/N by your side," that got Thranduils attention, Legolas tried to contain his smirk.

"Landion saw her sitting on your throne, laughing ominously , like a witch that just seduced her victim. Y/N was talking about you, about taking your throne and kingdom. Ada, you can't let her." he pleaded, obviously that made Thranduil believe him.

His golden hair flew in the air, as he turned around. His icy blue eyes, piercing Legolas'. The Elf couldn't possibly think of you doing such thing. He saw the love, adoration in your eyes. Thranduil's hands trembled, his breathing hard. Closing his eyes he breathed out a 'ego', Legolas leaving right after. He was so lost.

Help me Valar...  

                                                ****************

Later that day you came to your shared chambers, finished with today's work you were ready to relax. Walking in the dark room the only light came from the balcony and fire. Although you heard Thranduil you didn't say anything, thinking he was asleep.

"Y/N." said a raspy voice.

Thranduil sat on the love seat, near the fireplace. He held a glass of Dorwinion wine, right from Rivendell. Elves couldn't easily get intoxicated, especially Thranduil, as if he was alcohol-proof.

Taking a step forward, you replied, "Yes, my love?". Putting a hand on his shoulder you felt him tense up. For the first time in your relationship, your touch hadn't soothed him, quite the opposite.

He scoffed, ".. My love, tell me what were you doing in MY throne room?" he emphasized 'my'. 

Confused and tired, that was all you felt.

"Thranduil, I have been at work all day, what are you talking about?" he scoffed yet again, not pushing your hand off of him. He just rejected you and you don't know how to feel about that.

"Stop acting dumb. Legolas told me about your little scene. I'm not that thick as you thought. Get out of here, you witch." he spat, throwing the glass of wine onto the wall.

You shrieked, frightened of his odd behavior. The glass shattered, wine spilled on the perfect Elf-designed floor. Thranduil stood, towering over you. His icy glare did not soften, even watching your tears stained face. It only made more furious. 

"EGO MILBO ORCH!" that struck a nerve.

Your hand made contact with his cheek, the sound echoing in the room. It was quiet for a moment, before he said, "Get out of my Kingdom and never come back, witch." 

With that you left, tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision. Taking nothing you ran as fast as you could, just to be behind those gates, in the fate of the evil creatures guarding the woods.

The trip to Rivendell took you at least four days, fortunately you were a skilled hunter, so with a pained expression you ate a small bunny, fox or bird. On your way out of Mirkwood you haven't crossed roads with those nasty, six legged demons, you doubted you'd survive.

Lord Elrond was your regular customer, only letting you make his robes. Hearing the sad news from you, broke his heart. Not only did he give you food, but a place to live. Oh, how grateful you were, nearly squishing him in the tight embrace.

"My dear child, do not fear, for you love shall win over the dark. It just takes time to realize that." he said softly, rubbing your back as you sobbed.

"Th..thank you, Lord Elrond, for all of this." you rubbed your eyes, giving a weak smile.

Moving away from you, he whispered something you could not hear. All day you snuggled under the covers, trying to forget Thranduil and what he said, although your heart was still beating for him and always will.

A knock woke you up, yawning you stretched. Scrambling to the door, you opened it to face none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself. That was confusing, what was the Dwarf-King doing at your door...

"Good evening, my lady. I hope I do not impose?" he quirked his brow, a small blush on his cheeks though the massive beard made it nearly impossible to see. 

"Your highness, of course not, but what brings you to my chambers?"

He chuckled, embarrassed. "It is a fine evening, how about a walk, if you don't mind?" Thorin avoided your gaze. Sighting you tangled your arms together and wandered off.

Walking along the forest, a small lake found its way into your view. Awing, you let go of Thorin. The lake perfectly reflected the whole moon tonight. It was breathtaking.

 "Y/N, I wanted to tell you something for a while..." Thorin said, playing with his fingers from all the nerves. 

Not turning your attention, he continued, "The first time I saw you, i thought 'what an angel, i want her,' but I've never got the chance to talk with you, as you'd stay by Thranduils side-"

 "First of all, King Thorin," she spat, narrowing her eyes, now looking at him. "I am not some object you can possess, I also have feelings, but unfortunately I do not reciprocate yours. My love for Thranduil is strong and everlasting. You are not the first and last to hear this." you huffed, running back to your chambers, leaving a crushed Thorin.

                                                 ********************

Thranduil paced back and forth, Legolas told him everything after seeing his father heartbroken for some time. He didn't want that for him, it was selfish of him. The adviser that was paid to insult Y/N was no longer wanted in Mirkwood.

The Elven King was red from the anger, however he felt sorry for Legolas, understanding him in a way. And oh how bad he feels for his outburst, for saying the worst thing to you. It broke his heart into million pieces. 

Now, riding on his giant Elk, with five guards  galloping on their mares beside him, they were headed to Rivendell, for their future Queen and Thraduils love. 

You were siting on a branch of the largest tree in Rivendell, though at first it was difficult now you felt more confident. Observing the world from atop, you saw something moving, when it got closer you saw who that was. 

Groaning you still watched, of course Thranduil wants to insult you again, but you doubt he'd make an effort to travel from Mirkwood to Rivendell just for you. That was ridiculous. 

The King disappeared from your view, your heart was hammering, you missed him so much it hurt. Then again he popped up, now nearing the tree you were on. 

Dismounting the giant Elk, he looked up at you, with a frown. 

“Meleth nin, please, come down!” he shouted, worried of you falling. 

When he heard nothing, but still seeing you sitting there, watching his every move with those big, beautiful eyes, he tried again. 

“Y/N, I’m terribly sorry! Gi melin, my stars, my moon, my whole world!” 

“Nin gwerianneg.” you responded, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You saw him holding his own tears. 

Choosing to climb down you slowly and carefully pick each step. At last, your bare feet touched the wet grass. You felt Thranduils arms around you, holding tightly and never letting go.

“Forgive me, Y/N. I listened others and not my heart, but now that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, travel with you to Valinor. I want you to be my Queen.” he finished, breathing in the scent of your hair. He let himself cry, even in the presence of his guards. 

“I love you too, Thranduil, so so much. Never doubt it.”

He smiled, “I will never.”

You became the Queen of Mirkwood, and a friend to Legolas. He wasn't jealous anymore, more happy for his fathers joy. The people adored you too. 

A year later a new elfling came to the world, that day did not go without a celebration. 

_________

Ionneg - son 

Ego - go

Gi melin - i love you

Nin gwerianneg - you betrayed me

Ego milbo orch - go kiss an orc

Mae g'ovannen, Adar - well met (basically ‘hello’), father

Meleth - love (as in ‘my love, darling’ etc)

Ada - dad, daddy (yikes the daddy word is nasty now)

OMG i hope its okay??

[shibyn]

and the wind sounds like the world’s sigh

persona 4 & 5 | shiho-centric, investigation team Near the end of May, Shiho transfers to a sleepy town called Inaba for a fresh start. However, Inaba isn’t the sleepy town her parents thought would be best for her— its on edge with unsolved mysteries, and Shiho finds that there’s a bit more behind what meets the eye regarding some of her classmates and a TV screen.

chapter 4 | 4.4k | ao3

Shiho finds herself smiling. "Thank you," she says again, because-- really, there's probably not a limit to the amount of times she can say it until she feels like its enough.

"It's no biggie," Chie grins widely. She moves and grabs the umbrella she gave up on closing earlier. "See you later, Suzui!"

With a wave, she's off, sprinting in the sheets of rain. The green of her jacket stays bright even as she crosses the courtyard, until she turns the corner, and then she's gone.

Thunder rolls in the distance, the rain coming down in something too heavy to call a drizzle. Shiho peels her knee brace off, cringing with the grimy and wet feeling it leaves behind, and thinks, I hate the rain.

There's pools of water forming in the entrance, splashing with the occasional student walking across them. The school's already been filtered out, with most students fleeing home since the rain doesn't seem like it'll let up in hours. The student next to her curses under their breath when their umbrella doesn't pop open. She wrings out what she can from the brace, twisting and twisting even though nothing comes out. She wishes she at least had something to pat her knee dry with, or to wrap it with so she could put the brace over it. Her knees feel like they're caught between being actual slabs of rough, uncut stone and a physical feeling of static.

The student's umbrella snaps open, coming close to stabbing them in the arm. It's cute, bright blue with little gudetamas all on it. Shiho remembers seeing it at the opening sale of a storefront in Shibuya-- they were cheap, and from the looks of it, cheaply made, too. She opens her mouth, but halts-- what for? to say it's cheap? that it's cute?-- but the student ducks under the umbrella and sets off before she even decides what to say, if she was going to say anything at all.

Shiho presses her mouth into a thin line, feeling stupid. Her umbrella sits idly next to her, a solid grey. She might just blend in with the sky. She wonders how long she can wait the rain out, or at least, how long it'll take for the thrumming in her kneecaps to settle and for the knee brace to dry.

There's movement from somewhere further in the school-- it echoes down the stairways and the halls, making her ears prick. The laughter echoing from the halls sounds strangely distorted, muffled by the pick up of the rain outside. Shiho shuffles closer to the side and tries to look preoccupied, fiddling with her just shy of dead phone. She's used up whatever energy she keeps for interacting today, the last bit of it burnt up by whatever stupid attempt of a conversation she did just minutes ago.

The voices become clearer as they approach the entrance, voices light and joking even though there's a flare of bickering in their conversation. Shiho's stomach squeezes, just a bit-- they're talking about one of the newest movies that just came out, something action-y and full of dramatic plot and wicked cool, I swear, going by their conversation. Shiho remembers a conversation from the dim hours of this morning, a forlorn hey maybe you can visit on that long weekend and we could go watch it in theaters together!! from Ann and a shriveling feeling in her stomach.

There's no pause in the conversation when they step into the entrance, going accordingly to their shoe lockers and swapping shoes. A pair of them walk past her, one of them throwing biting comments like You don't even watch good movies, what would you know about what makes one good or not! over the lockers.

Her phone buzzes in her hands, lighting up from the blank screen she's been staring at for the past few minutes. It's a message from her mother-- something about remembering her knee brace, and if at all possibly, could you get some milk, we ran out this morning. She scrunches her nose. She might be able to fudge the trip to the store without the brace-- there shouldn't be that many dips in the road in that direction. But, knowing her stupid luck and the telltale ache, she's got to put it back on at some point, regardless of its grimy feeling.

Instead, she just kinda listens in on the whole conversation being held over the lockers, which has some how gotten even more heated in the time she's glanced at her phone. She knows these voices, she realizes belatedly-- they always seem to argue, at least, about the most ridiculous things. Meat skewers, the weather, Kung-fu movies, cats-- there's no correlation between those topics, and yet they always argue over some aspect of it. It's kinda surprising. They were fairly in unison when it came to defending Tatsumi Kanji in class-- the two brunettes, eyes steely with determination. And by extension, she knows, the red cardigan Amagi daughter and the silver haired older brother are there.

She really should be more aware of her classmates. She doesn't know their names, even though it's been a good couple of weeks since she's been here.

The clicks of their shoe lockers are just barely audible over the pick up of rain outside. There's a trickle off in the conversation-- strange, considering how they've argued about the same scene for the entire time Shiho's listened in. She can just barely see where the person in front of her has become unnaturally still-- a difference from how animately they were moving prior. It's quiet for a moment, two-- until they pick it right back up, as if they were only side tracked by a stray thought.

They all congregate to the entrance, armed with umbrellas. One after the other, the umbrellas pop open smoothly and they step out, the conversation now swiftly shifting to something about night-- but one pauses mid motion, in the edge of Shiho's vision, as if halted by something.

"Ah, um! Wait, I think I forgot something. You guys go on ahead-- I'll catch up in a jiffy!" It's the brunette girl with the green jumper with the flurry of buttons on the lapel-- the one Shiho's overheard is unnaturally enthusiastic about movies in general. Her voice is awkward on the sentence, like it she's not entirely sure of herself. Strange.

"Are you sure? We can wait for you--" the Amagi girl starts, the red of her cardigan stark against the grey outside, but the brunette just shakes her head, nearly frantically.

"I'm sure, I'm sure! Don't worry about it!" she says. It's possibly one of the most suspicious sounding Shiho's ever heard. The same thought shows on the other's faces from what Shiho can see while briefly glancing, but they don't push. The hollow patter of rain against umbrellas picks up-- one, two, three-- and the Amagi girl calls out from the noise of the rain, "Don't take too long, Chie!" And they're gone.

The brunette-- Chie, Shiho thinks, her name's Chie-- struggles with putting up the umbrella for at least a half minute. Shiho checks her phone and absently notes that it's five minutes till the school closes. At this rate, with the way the umbrella refuses to click back into place, she probably won't make it back to what ever she forgot. Or maybe the teachers will be nice and let her get whatever it is-- or it could be Morooka, who would give her hell.

Eventually she just throws her arms up, resting the open umbrella against the lockers. She doesn't dart past where Shiho's sitting like she expected she would-- Chie goes straight to her locker, a type of unrest jittering in her movement.

Shiho absently stretches out her legs, a frown twisting on her mouth. Five minutes, she reminds herself. The thrum hasn't dwindled. It shouldn't be that long of a trip. She grabs ahold of the knee brace, which squishes in her hand. Her knee protests being stretch out again, and--

And there's something being held out to her.

She starts, her legs jerking back. It's a pack of pain reliever creme and a wrap. Her eyes keep going up, up the candy-apple green of the jacket that lights her like a beacon in the dim lights, and she shouldn't be surprised that it's Chie since she's the only other one here, but--

"Um, here!" Chie blurts, caught somewhere on the edge of awkward and yet not at all. She fidgets-- shuffles her legs, fiddling with her sleeve-- Shiho knows it's not because she's uncomfortable, she's just nervous, but why-- "The rain's gotta be messing' with your knee, right? You can use this!"

For a moment, the sound of rain engulfs the entrance. Everything's drowned out in grey, muted by rain, and yet, Chie stands like a sudden break in the monotone. Shiho reaches out slowly, taking them from Chie with hesitant hands. Chie-- Chie looks sheepish, which is so, so confusing because it's Chie, who's probably as confident as can be even though Shiho doesn't know a thing about her. Her chest squeezes and squeezes and--

"Thank you," she says, hoping the gratitude she feels can be heard in her voice. Chie grins back, a sheepish quirk of the lips, rubbing the back of her neck in a lax manner.

"I, um, know how it feels." Chie leans a shoulder against the lockers while Shiho takes the moment to apply the creme. "My knees ache a lot in this weather, too," she says, looking somewhere behind her. Shiho glances, and there's a mess of purple and green and yellow dotted on both of her legs. How-- How did she never notice? "I kinda do a lot of martial arts, and it's put a lot of strain on my legs..."

Shiho nods knowingly, handing back the creme and then unravels the wrap. Once the wrap's tightly wound around her knee, she pulls the knee brace on in a fluid motion. The grimy feeling doesn't bleed through the wrap. Shiho finds her voice caught, her chest tight. "Thank you, really..."

"It's no biggie!" Chie jumps to say, waving it off quickly. She shuts her locker with a quick click, bouncing on her feet. She moves so much when she talks. Shiho's kinda enamored just from watching. "I mean, my legs've been acting up all day, so I can only imagine how it is for you--! The rain's really awful around here, 'n comboed with these hills? Absolutely killer!"

"It feels like it never stops raining around here," she says in the lieu of agreement, looking just past Chie to where it's doing exactly what it's been doing for the past week. Shiho heaves herself to her feet, pressing an open palm against her knee. The creme covers the thrum of pain behind her kneecap like a heavy blanket-- it's one of the better brands, something she'd love to just keep on hand and slap on whenever her knees so much as twinge, but it'd leave her absolutely broke.

Chie hums. "Junes sells a ton of pain reliever stuff, by the way! I get this one and Hot n' Cold packs whenever they're on sale there. They do absolute wonders for the joints, and you can stock up on a ton of them 'cuz the deals are always good!" She says, a kind of excitement bleeding into her voice.

"Ah, neat," Shiho says absently. For the weeks after she'd gotten out of the hospital, she tried just about every suggestion the doctor had provided for pain relief in a blind attempt to do something with the ache in her legs. They helped somewhat, of course, but there was always the simmering ache and it lingered just long enough in her bones that there was barely any difference between using them or not. Then again-- Tokyo has the luxury of flat roads and transits, not hill sides and weekly typhoons. There's a couple of bills neatly folded somewhere in her bag-- it's definitely enough for the milk her mom asked for. Maybe she could fudge a bit of extra change and maybe save up for those sales--?

"But I've got tons of them if you ever need it!!" Chie interrupts, cutting through the wandering thoughts. Her eyes shine, and Shiho blinks owlishly. Tapping her knuckles against the locker, she continues, "You definitely have more leg aches than I do, I think-- if you need to, you can use whatever I have stashed away in here!"

Shiho finds herself smiling. "Thank you," she says again, because-- really, there's probably not a limit to the amount of times she can say it until she feels like its enough.

"It's no biggie," Chie grins widely. She moves and grabs the umbrella she gave up on closing earlier. "See you later, Suzui!"

With a wave, she's off, sprinting in the sheets of rain. The green of her jacket stays bright even as she crosses the courtyard, until she turns the corner, and then she's gone.

—

Shiho [5:37 P.M.] I think I'm boutta go into cardiac arrest

Ann [5:40 P.M.] :O???!!

Shiho [5:40 P.M.] my classmate gave me somethin to wrap my knee in and some of that icy hot stuff ann I thought I was gonna combust I was so touched--!!

Ann [5:40 P.M.] WHO jesus i woulda cried?? aint icy hot expensive??

Shiho [5:41 P.M.] it is!! g odd i'm indebted for life her names chie,, I don't really know much about her but she does martial arts and has knee problems too

Ann [5:41 P.M.] dude u Can Not Bond over something like knee aches thats like.... somethin old ppl would bond over

Shiho [5:42 P.M.] :((( can we bond over sales on icy hot instead,,,?

Ann [5:42 P.M.] absolutely not!!

Shiho [5:42 P.M.] unfair!! I don't wanna hear you try and teach yusuke budgeting then, you hypocrite!!!

Ann [5:43 P.M.] oh my fuckin god let it GO IT WAS ONLY ONE TIME I SAID THAT IM HURT

—

The classroom hasn't changed in the slightest. Morooka's the same crotchety rag he's always been. The people around her still talk about the Meat Skewer Shop like there's something new and exciting about it. It's raining outside. Nothing new.

Green glows in the corner of her eyes now. It's never not been there, but it's there. Bright candy apple green, paired with bright candy apple red. They've been there since day one, strangely isolated yet not at all. Their own faction. She's never noticed before-- just how close they are.

She feels silly-- all it takes for her to be more aware of her classmates, to think of them as something more than other people in the room, is to just speak to one? To put a name to a face all of a sudden, when it's been in front of her for the past couple of weeks?

They have names, they're people, and she's been too caught up in longing for home that she's forgotten to think of her classmates as their own rather than awful people in this awful town. There's more to her classmates. They're more than red cardigan Amagi girl or the liquor store's kid or the boy who sits in front of her or her seat mate.

She left the knee wrap in Chie's shoe locker this morning. She tried to keep it cool, keep it casual, even though her fingers were shaking so slightly. Which is-- stupid, really. Who's scared of returning what they borrowed? Her, apparently. She even brought her own knee wrap to school, so she wouldn't have to borrow Chie's again. She even came early, just to from talking to Chie from awkward obligation.

She's reverting, she knows. She's going back to being completely withdrawn. It's been ages since she's been like this, ages since she hasn't had someone like Ann by her side. And-- she can't even find it in herself to even try to be civil with Chie, or to put names to her classmates' faces.

She has to be better than this. Has to.

Chie lets out a loud snort, smacking the other brunette's arm-- Yosuke, maybe?-- which sends the Amagi girl-- Yukiko?-- into a wild fit of laughter. Yosuke lets out a whine, turning to beg for support in this conversation from the silver haired boy-- Souji-- who just shrugs with a slight upturn of the lips. Chie cheers, announcing something that sounds like a final decision, much to Yosuke's chagrin. Nothing different. Nothing different.

Something writhes in her gut. It gnaws at her, angry and bitter, something that won't still even though she tries forcing it down. Shiho buries her head in her arms, shame settling heavy in her stomach. Chie's nice. Her group of friends seem nice.

We could've been like that.

She's never hated Ryuji. Even when he bristled suddenly, splintering his leg to fragments, kicked aside suddenly as if he always belonged there. Even before that, when he was caught up in track, pulling away from their makeshift group of friends from junior high, she never hated him. Things were weird in high school, building up and crumbling at the turn of the week. One week she could swear things were getting better, and then by the next she could swear Ann and Ryuji would tear out each others throats.

And Akira-- Akira, somehow, somehow, smoothed over the grit. He was there for-- what, a month? Not even? He pulled everything back together. Made amends. Fixed what she thought couldn't be fixed. She can't thank him enough.

She-- she could fit in that group of misfits, right? Ann, Ryuji, Akira, and

her.

—

Sometimes she aches to play.

She aches to be on a volleyball court again, shoes scuffing against waxed floors, eyes trained on the volleyball, thrum of adrenaline in her veins. She loved that stupid sport. The weight of the volleyball in her hands, the ache of having to dive to keep it in play, the sound of it being spiked. She loved it.

She aches to play, yet her stomach will roil when she steps into the practice building's gymnasium. The whole gym is different, from the layout to the wall color to the lights, but her stomach won't settle. Her hands ache for a volleyball. Her knees ache more than they have in weeks. She stepped into the gym once to burn time watching the basketball team practice, and she decided she likes watching soccer more.

It's probably not the best way to pass time-- watching other people do what she can't anymore. Initially it was just people watching, because that's all thats amounted to being the most interesting thing to do in this place, but seeing people running and shouting and cheering makes her restless. Sure, she's never had a knack for soccer or basketball or whatever other sports they offer at Yasogami. It doesn't mean she doesn't want to play. Maybe she's being a masochist? After all, she did stay in Shujin's volleyball program--

The black and white of the soccer ball streaks across the court, sailing flawlessly into an unmanned goal. Shiho blinks, watching as the soccer ball swishes in the netting, hearing the roar from the team. They're all sweaty as hell from playing since school let out-- a quick glance at her phone tells it's been at least a solid hour of playing already, yikes-- but the team doesn't realize this until they've already dog piled into a group hug. If she was closer, she could probably hear the absolute disgust that crosses some of their faces. And god have mercy on the dude who scored that goal-- being crushed in upon by a bunch of sweaty teenage boys... incredible, he's still alive.

He doesn't seem all that bothered by it though, either still hyped up from his good shot or having already reached the peak of sweatiness and doesn't mind a couple more gallons of it on him. One of his teammates swings by and throws an arm around his shoulders, giving him a wicked ruffle of hair, and Shiho belatedly realizes its Seta Souji from her class. He nudges the arm off of his shoulders, grinning something that's reserved yet still expressive, and another round starts.

She leans back on the bench. He's the other one from Tokyo, supposedly-- alongside Yosuke, but he's not as new apparently and therefore booted out of the public mind-- and he's just about as similar to her as he is different. Both of them are quiet Tokyo transfers, but-- he doesn't seem to mind being here. He's blended in seamlessly, as if he's always been here. People always come up and talk to him in class. She doesn't know anything about him.

Maybe he was the team captain at his old school, she guesses absently. He's got the stance and keen eyes of someone who knows what he's doing. When they're setting up from an out-of-bounds shot, he leans to a teammate and whispers something short to them, to which they nod and move accordingly. She wonders what it's like for the actual team captain-- being shown up by a transfer from Tokyo his first year here.

She wonders what it was like for the third years at Shujin-- being booted off the team because they refused to bend to Kamoshida, watching first and second years fill their spots, covered in bruises they received instead.

A loud, strangled shout pulls her out of her thoughts. There's someone down on the field-- they're grasping at their ankle, a grimace settling heavy on their face. The ball keeps rolling until its out of bounds, unbeknown to the rest of the team, who abandon game to surround the player.

Shiho's gut sinks. She leans forward, trying to quell it, but her stomach folds and folds and won't stop. It's just the roll of an ankle, from the looks of it-- his face shows his discomfort, nose scrunching up strangely underneath a bandage stretched across it, but he isn't folded in upon himself, curling, wheezing. He's helped up to his feet by a couple of teammates. He can still move his foot, though it doesn't seem to feel too pleasant. He's alright.

Like a bolt, she realizes she's waiting. She's tensed up unknowingly, white knuckled, gripping the edge of the bench. She's waiting for yelling to start up. Injuries were slow downs. Injuries took up time. Losing time meant losing practice which meant losing. Be it a jammed finger, rolled ankle, sprained wrist, bone fracture-- not allowed.

Injuries meant a little more pain in the end. She's waiting for someone to get hurt more.

She has to mentally focus to pry her hands of the bench's edge. A teammate loop their arms around the player's shoulders, supporting him up so he can avoid standing on his foot. It's Souji. He keeps checking up on the player as they make way to the nurse's, taking most of his weight.

With that, it seems like the whole team reached a consensus that practice was over, taking their jerseys off and piling them up on the sidelines. She nearly blanches at the notion, but holds it down. They don't seem that worried, she belatedly thinks, fiddling with the peeling part of her phone case to keep her hands busy. Sure, it was just a roll of the ankle-- shouldn't be anything too horrible-- but there's no worry, no worry for their teammate. They all had hovered nearby uselessly as he was helped to his feet. They're just leaving. They're not even continuing practice, or cleaning up--

She presses her fingernails into her palm. She noticed the divide in the team earlier. There were the ones who played because they loved it, and then there were the ones who played because they had nothing better to do. They didn't care. It was the goddamn transfer student who's helping the injured to the nurse's. She thought the team would be tight-knit enough that more would come and help.

There's still cones and jerseys and spare practice balls littered around the lot. They walk right on past it all, keen on either leaving it out or leaving it for someone else to clean. The volleyball team would've been killed for even considering it.

Shiho's knees ache when she stands. It feels like an eternity to walk across the lot, but she standing before the pile of jerseys before she knows it. There's a mesh bag haphazardly tossed to the side, too-- her arms feel like lead when she picks it up, meticulously picking up each sweaty jersey and putting it into the bag. The same goes for the cones, and then the soccer balls-- they're all unceremoniously crammed into the mesh bag when she's done.  

Her hands are jittery, she realizes. She's waiting to be towered over, for being slack on picking everything up, for taking so long--

She pushes her thoughts down, swallowing heavily, trying to ignore the roar of her pulse in her ears. It takes a moment for her to clear the fuzz from her head, to unclench the death grip on the mesh bag. The way to the practice building is long and quiet.

The doors to the building are obnoxiously loud as she shoulders them open. The lights to the gymnasium are off-- the only light coming in is from the high windows. She hates it. It reminds her of when she was told to stay after practice. Of when she would linger in the locker room, passing soothing creme to Hayato and being handed concealer from Misaki. She bites her tongue, ignores how her shoes sound against the waxed floors, and heads to the storage room.

The storage room's a cluttered mess. It's unfathomably dusty in some parts, not in others-- she can easily see the sports that are actually played here on a daily basis. She's not exactly sure where the soccer supplies goes, so she-- she kinda just puts it down somewhere she thinks will catch someone's attention and hopefully they'd be knowledgable and kind enough to know where to properly put it.

When she leaves the storage room, she sees a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. It's Souji-- he's not facing her, having stepped foot outside but halted mid motion. He's still wearing his jersey, and the hint of color tucked under his arm is probably his teammate's. She wonders if he stopped because no ones there, or if because everything's cleaned up already.

She could call out, say hey, I already cleaned up for you, you don't have to worry about it. She doesn't. He seems like a quiet guy, but he might ask why she even bothered. She doesn't think she can really tell him she might convulse at the thought of leaving equipment out because she and her teammates used to have the shit beat out of them if they dared to leave a forgotten jersey on the ground.

She turns and leaves, wanting to get out of the gym as quick as she can. Hopefully his teammate's alright, at least.

[vampiric-daydreams]

What Would Never Be (Part 2)

Here is Part 1

Jasper x Reader

Request 1: Can you do a pt 2 to What Would Never Be where the Jasper & Alice break up after Jasper finds out Alice kept her vision the reader being his true mate from him? - anon

Request 2:  I’m not sure how old the post “What would never be” is but I wondered/was curious if you were still thinking of writing a second part? Jasper has found out the reader is his true mate, could you also include how the  Cullens would react to the news & maybe meeting her for the first time? Thank you X (cont..)  Could you maybe include readers reaction to finding out Jasper is a vampire? X - @raindancer2004

Word Count: 1942

A/N: I got two requests for part 2 so I’ve combined them. I’m sorry I didn’t include every tidbit of what you asked for in detail - a few fleeting sentences here and there were the best I could do. This took five completely different drafts and the first four were choppy. I’ve finally written a version I’m happy with and this one flows a thousand times better than the previous ones. I hope everyone can enjoy this!

 They were surrounding you as you stood in the main lounge of their home. The expressions on each of their faces were difficult to read; ranging from what you considered uncomfortable to outright confused. It was hard to not take any of it personally. The situation had made waves in their household.

Jasper gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You still processed it all. Sure, the Cullens had stood out around town; but vampires? Suddenly aware of your own heart beating, you tightened your grip on Jasper’s hand and recounted the events that landed you in this situation.

*

It was a sunny day in Forks, a rarity. The weather was warm, but not hot – and yet you could feel sweat forming on your forehead. The true pitfall of living in a cold, rainy town was the lack of summer clothing you owned. Your wardrobe – and everybody else’s – consisted largely of thick woollens and denims. Still, your jeans and shirt would get you through the day.

The excitement had the cafeteria buzzing. Beach dates and pier-diving sessions were being planned. Everyone welcomed the warmer weather; yet despite all the optimism surrounding you, you still noticed a negative. Jasper wasn’t at school. Neither were the rest of his family – most likely on another family camping trip away in the wilderness. You took a large bite of your lunch and tried to shake away the image of Jasper sharing a tent with his girlfriend. Getting intimate.

You had no reason to dislike Alice. She was never rude to anybody, and she always projected an aura of positivity; but the green-eyed monster within you was rearing its ugly head. It was difficult to bury once it emerged.

“(Y/N)!” Your best friend’s voice cut through your imagination. She stared at you as if she was waiting for a response. She’d been asking you something.

“Sorry,” you frowned, “I’m just having one of those days.”

“Jasper again?” She toyed with her hair. The ponytail she had just finished tying was the fourth hairstyle she’d worn that day.

“I can’t stop thinking about him. No matter where I am or who I’m with he’s all I can focus on. It’s driving me insane. Why do I have to be so hung up over a guy I’ll never have?” Then, you thought to yourself, he even overruns my dreams.

“Then come with us after school. We’re going to the beach for a few hours while the weather lasts. It might take your mind off him for a while.”

You scoffed. As if you could forget about Jasper Hale that easily. It wasn’t as simple as that. Whenever you saw him in class, all you could do was gaze at the back of his head, at his perfect honeycomb curls. It felt painful to tear your eyes away from him; but that pain held no candle to what it felt like to see the light in his eyes when Alice was with him.

There was a pull you felt towards him. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt as insane as it was pathetic. You wished you could get rid of it.

“I’ll let you know after school.”

*

The sun didn’t grace Forks for long. By the end of the school day the clouds had returned to cloak the town in an unwelcome but familiar shadow; and threatened to pour with rain. The beach plans were cancelled as fast as they had been formed. You stood alone in the car park beside your best friend’s car. As soon as the weather had taken a turn, she’d texted you suggesting retail therapy instead. You hoped she was right about it still being a decent distraction.

Jasper. His name echoed in your mind before you even realised it was him walking out of the office – likely collecting missed schoolwork. As ridiculous as it sounded, Jasper had an ethereal grace whenever he did anything. He wore a stylish grey coat with a blue shirt, and his hair was nicely in place. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere near the wilderness.

“I thought you were going camping?” You took a chance and called out to him. Since that time in the library with him, you’d spoken a few more times. He didn’t seem bothered by it. He looked over at you and smiled, walking closer.

“Change of plans,” he squinted at the sky, “I know I’m not the only one.”

“Yeah, everyone’s pretty bummed out about the change,” you told him. Over the past few weeks you’d improved with how you behaved in his presence. Sure, you stared like a deer in headlights when he wasn’t watching – but while you interacted with him you maintained your composure.

“Did you have plans, as well?”

“I was thinking about going to the beach, but I wasn’t sure. I guess Mother Nature decided for me.”

He chuckled. You made him laugh. The sound of it was so beautiful to you it nearly crumbled every ounce of composure you had. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’d better get home. I have work to catch up on, it seems.”

Your heart sunk, you wanted him to stay. Smiling anyway, you replied. “Okay, see you tomorrow if you’re in.”

With that, Jasper left and made his way towards a blank-faced Alice and a concerned-looking Edward. Your eyebrows knitted together. Is something wrong? Upon noticing Alice’s expression, Jasper hurried over to her – putting his hands on her shoulders and gently shaking her as if she was asleep. He muttered something to Edward, and the three of them climbed into his Volvo; but not before Alice’s eyes met yours. You could have sworn she frowned at you for a split second. In her eyes you could see she knew something you didn’t. Your heart stopped.

*

When the Cullens acted strange during the days that followed, it only affirmed your belief that something was wrong that day. And that thing was related to you. There was a lumpy feeling in your throat and stomach and it thickened every time you saw a Cullen; or as it seemed when a Cullen saw you. It seemed as if the entire family suddenly knew of your existence. It began only with Alice and Edward, who gave you varying looks of discomfort and curiosity. Then Emmett held the door open for you; not passively either. He waited the whole ten seconds it took for you to catch up to him. Rosalie glared at you a few times and then traded the hostility for awkward smiles. The only one who still seemed unchanged was Jasper. He was focusing on Alice more than ever. Her light was fading, he could see it. But why?

On the third and final day of the ambiguity, clarity presented itself. Jasper had been waiting by your locker after the final bell. Your heart skipped a beat as you strode over to him. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t seem upset, either.

“Hey, Jasper.” You smiled at him. “Do you need me for something?”

“I’m sorry if my family has been making you feel uncomfortable these past few days.” Sincerity swam in the honey pools that were his eyes. You weren’t sure how to respond.

“Uncomfortable isn’t what it was...”

“Regardless, I want to apologise.”

“Thank you. I-” you cut yourself off. “Did something happen?”

Jasper’s eyes flickered, a range of emotions flittering through them in half a second, and too many to count. “Alice and I broke up.”

Your chest ached. “I’m so sorry.”

“Based on some decisions that were made, Alice thought it would be best for us both.” Despite what was coming out of his mouth, Jasper maintained composure. His eyes didn’t water. His fists remained unclenched. He seemed more himself than ever.

“If there’s anything I can do-”

“That’s why I’m here.” You titled your head. He continued. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date, sometime.”

Your throat felt blocked. You had dreamt of this day, but you’d never imagined it to be like this – with Jasper asking you out mere hours after breaking up with his ex. It felt so wrong.

“Jasper, I’m sorry but my conscience won’t let me do that to Alice.”

“Actually, it was Alice who suggested we go out. It doesn’t have to be immediate. I wanted to make my intentions clear. Honestly, I’m a little uncomfortable with throwing myself at another woman so quickly – and frankly I’m relieved you share the feeling.”

You were speechless. How could you even respond to something like that? What were you supposed to say? Instead, you nodded. He held out a white piece of folded paper to you. You took it. “Your number?”

He smiled. “Text me, call me. I’m not ready to explore a romantic relationship with you yet, even though I’d like to. But I want to get to know you – if it’s something you’d want to do.”

You placed the paper in your pocket. It was a strange feeling, and not at all what you’d imagined. Yet, despite it, your heart was skipping beats and your stomach was overwhelmed with butterflies.

“Until then,” Jasper gently kissed the apple of your right cheek. You forgot how to breathe. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

*

It would take time. It wasn’t as though you expected immediate comfort and acceptance. Their entire ‘family’ dynamic was uprooted because of you. Esme offered you a reassuring smile; the warmth and genuine kindness in her eyes almost made you feel welcome. Still, it seemed like it was too soon to be frequenting their family home.

You had been dreaming about being Jasper’s love-interest for so long, and now here you were. But it didn’t feel right, yet. Something was missing. You didn’t feel you were ‘in’ the group like Bella was. Nobody had treated you poorly – even Alice had shown you kindness. Regardless, it would take time to feel secure enough to feel as though their eyes weren’t watching you.

It was like you were under a spotlight and they were inspecting your every flaw. You clenched your teeth and smiled as Jasper spoke. “I’ll be with (Y/N) for the day. Don’t wait up.”

The two of you turned and walked outside after you offered his family a series of awkward goodbyes. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that. It wasn’t them, it was you. Regardless of how everything had panned out you couldn’t shake feeling you’d done something wrong. Behind each of Emmett’s jokes and Carlisle’s kind gestures you imagined a series of falsehood and judgement. It wasn’t true. They had welcomed you, but you wouldn’t feel welcome until you welcomed yourself.

Jasper cupped your face in his after closing the front door behind you. “You mean a lot to me, (Y/N). I really want to make things work between us.”

“So do I,” you whispered in return. It would take work to get yourself to the place you needed to be. The place where you felt relaxed around his family; around Alice. But you were eager to try your best.

Sometimes, late at night when you were alone, you hoped that you might have forever to try.

[sienna-walsh]

[scoobiesminyard]

If you asked any member of the Losers Club about who the biggest romantic in the group was, they would all immediately answer Ben Hanscom. He wrote love poetry for gods sake! He listened to George Michael and Whitney Houston! (He had attempted to hide this slightly embarassing fact, but he underestimated how goddamn snoopy Richie could be). He may have said that he only agreed to watch When Harry met Sally to appease Bev, but the others knew better. He was, put simply, a huge romantic.

Ben loved strongly and purely, and he liked to express that love through his poetry. It was slowly but surely improving, or at least he said. They wouldn’t let anyone read it. Not since last summer.

It had been months since the poem had been left in Bev’s bag. Months since she realised that it was him who had done it. Months since they had softly said the words to each other... and in those months, nothing had happened. They hadn’t kissed, hadn’t held hands or gone on a date (except in Bens daydreams). They hadn’t even talked about it. The only explanation was that Bev didn’t feel the same way (understandably, she was so beautiful and so funny and so strong and he was so.... not) and she was just trying to avoid hurting his feelings. How could he expect anything differently? He wasn’t worthy of her. Not like Bill. Not like brave, handsome Bill... It was days like this that he listened to sadder songs, wrote more negative poems. He felt his heart aching in his chest as he looked at Bev. He would wish miserably that he didn’t love Bev.

But then Bev would look at him, with that glint in her eye. She would laugh at him- no with him, never at him- and she would smile so damn bright. She would bump up against him or listen to him speak with patience, before interrupting to say what was on her mind. It was when they were lying on the grass of the Barrens cloudwatching lazily or she was jitterbug dancing with Richie until they collapsed with laughter, that he knew Bev was the best part of his life. He had loved her since she signed his yearbook, when she became the first person in this school, in any school to really care about him, He didn’t care if she didn’t love him back because she didn’t owe him anything. Bev smoking in silence, Bev smiling at him, Bev cycling around him, Bev tickling him, Bev crying in his arms. She was the best person he had ever known.

And Ben couldn’t hide how absolutely lightheaded he felt around her. The others had known for absolutely ages. It was just an unspoken thing- Ben is whipped for Bev. Bev’s feelings are unclear. Then again, her thing with Bill never went anywhere. Ben had rubbed his sweaty palms against his shorts as Bill told them that he and Bev, whatever they were, were over and would just be friends from now on. Bev seemed happier after that. She didn’t need a guy. She was fine on her own. She didn’t need Ben.

Ben would probably have left things like that for the rest of his life if it was up to him. The silent pining, the confused feelings, the angst of it all. He had already made a move, he thought. He had made his feelings clear that summer and everyday since. And with no result. Anything further would probably be weird and creepy. Things were fine the way they were. Richie felt differently.

"Benjamin my good fellow, I have to make some inquiries” Richie said in his British guy voice, looking at him sternly.

They were walking to the library, where they often studied (well, Ben studied and Richie tried to distract him). It was a January afternoon and it was absolutely freezing. He was wrapped up in a scarf, hat and thick coat but Richie was seemingly fine wearing a denim jacket. He was unfazed by everything. How annoying. Ben was used to Richie’s antics by now and just sighed.

“Whats up Richie?” “I have to ask my good fellow... what are your intentions with Miss Marsh?”

Ben nearly walked into a streetlamp.

“Wh-What? What are you talking about?”

Richie scoffed and slung his arm around Ben's shoulder. This was awkward, considering the height difference (Richie was starting to shoot up like a bean pole) but Richie continued speaking.

“I mean, its absolutely ridiculous how long you two have been iffing about. Its 1990 my good sir! A whole new year, a whole new decade! Its time to get a move on- its almost Valentines day” Richie said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ben waited a moment and thought about Richie’s words. He never thought he would say this but maybe Richie was right? He could try again, really lay things on the line, be honest-

Ben shook his head. What was he thinking? He couldn’t risk making things more awkward, ruining their friendship. ‘Bev already knows’ he reminded himself. ‘You’re just gonna make her uncomfortable and force her to reject you properly’

He said as much to Richie, who scoffed again.

“Oh, pish posh! Benny boy, Bev is my best friend. I know her okay? She never shuts up about you when we’re smoking. She listens to the same crappy songs you do. She always defends you when I call you a nerd-“

“Hey!”

“and I really don’t know what the girl is waiting for. She still has your poem by her bed, you know. She likes you. And you like her. Maybe she’s waiting for you to ask her again so she can tell you the right answer this time. Romance is a mystery to me. I just hump em and dump em, you know me. But you need to get a move on and get ready to sweeeeeeeeepp her off her feet on Valentines!”

Ben, still processing Richie’s words, stayed silent as they walked in the library doors. Mrs Clarke scowled.

“Mr Tozier. Here again.”

Oh, you couldn’t keep me away from this dusty, cold, silent room full of old books if you tried. Which I know you have. And yet here I am!” Richie said cheerily and steered Ben toward the tables before Mrs Clarke could scold him for insolence.

“You gotta do the damn thing on Feb 14th, handsome. Life is too short” Richie hissed.

“Oh really? Well, I’ll seize the day if you do”

Richie frowned. “Whats that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please. You're smart but I'm smarter. You’re not the only one with eyes and I am not the only one who has a flaming crush on a fellow loser”

Richie, eyes wide behind his glasses, was seemingly stunned into silence and buried himself in a comic he brought from home. His cheeks were tinted red behind the pages. It was very amusing to see him shown up for once. Ben would usually have used this opportunity to actually study in silence for once but his mind had never been further from academics. All he could think about Bev....

And now, all because of that wretched conversation, he was sealing his doom. He was seizing the day. He was getting a move on. He was asking Bev out. On Valentines day. When she said no, kindly but firmly, it was going to crush him. Yet, here he was by her locker. Flowers in his hand and irrational, stupid hope in his heart.

He heard Bev before he saw her. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath when he heard her laugh echoing down the halls. He would follow that laugh down a cliff, into the sewers, into the very gates of hell. She rounded the corner with Richie, fresh off their morning smoke. She was wearing jeans and a baby blue jumper, her hair freshly washed and beautiful like always. Richie was smacking a kiss on her cheek and she was rolling her eyes in disgust, but her giggling was giving her away. Her eyes landed on him, blushing already and holding flowers as nice as he could buy. She stopped laughing. Richie grinned and started walking away, giving Ben the thumbs up. He was gonna have to kill him after this.

Because Bev didn’t look happy at all. She looked surprised, and a bit worried. She walked slowly toward him and gave a smile that didn’t look too genuine. Ben's heart sank to his toes. This was not going to end well.

“Are these for me?” Bev asked softly. “Y-yes. Happy Valentines Day, Beverly. I was wondering if-if you wanted to, to maybe-“

“Gotta go! Bathroom! See you later!” Bev interrupted, panic clear on her face before she ran in the opposite direction to Ben- and the girls bathrooms. Ben gaped after her for a few seconds before lifting a hand to wave goodbye. By then, she was whipping around the corner out of sight.

Ben couldn’t believe what had just happened. He hadn’t been that confident sure but he thought the worst case scenario would be Bev telling him clearly that she just didn’t feel the same way and she just wanted to be friends. And now it seemed like she was so horrified with him that they would never be friends again. Ben felt tears welling up in his eyes.

“Fuck you Richie Tozier” he muttered and wiped his eyes. He had to get his books and get to the bathroom before anyone saw him crying. The bullying situation had gotten a lot better recently and he didn’t want to change that, especially not today. He ran to his locker, his vision blurry with tears (“stop crying you useless lump” he said angrily to himself with no result) and threw it open-

It was then that a box of chocolates fell out of the locker and hit Ben square on the head, It hurt. A lot.

“What the- can this day get any worse?” Ben muttered bitterly before freezing. Now what exactly was a box of chocolates doing in his locker in the first place? He scrambled to pick it up and stared at it in amazement. There was a note attached.

“My mam used to say that the best way to a mans heart is through his stomach. I personally think poetry is much more effective but I’m not much of a writer. I don’t know how to say this well so I’ll just say it badly. I like you. A lot. you want to catch a movie later? Eat hazelnut for yes, caramel for no. Yes I know you hate caramel, that's the point. Bev x”

Ben had at some point sank down on to the floor of the school, holding the box and note in front of him and staring in awe. He read it again. And again. And again. It didn’t start seeming real. He quickly pinched himself but things didn’t start making more sense. This was real. Bev had-

“Eddie would have a heart attack if he saw you sitting in that nasty floor, you know”

Ben tore his eyes away from the single ‘x’ to see Bev standing in front of him, smiling shyly. She hesitated and extended her arm to him. Ben stared at her for a minute before gulping and taking her hand. Her skin was so soft but when she pulled him up, he felt how strong she was. He didn’t let go of her hand. She didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry for being rude before.” Bev whispered, with a small smirk. “I just- I’ve been planning this for ages. And it was my turn to make a move. I didn’t think you would-and i just wanted to-“

“I wasn’t going to. Definitely no” Ben admitted and Bev looked a little taken aback.

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Richie, he convinced me that maybe I had a chance... I guess he isn’t so stupid after all”

“I disagree! He almost ruined everything! I’m gonna tell him that Eddie likes Stan instead I swear to god, the meddling oaf-“ Bev fumed.

Ben watched her mini rant with a smile. She really had asked him out. She really did like him back. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think he ever would.

Ben squeezed her hand. “The answer is yes, by the way. A million times yes. I would eat 10 thousand hazelnut swirls if it meant I could go out with you’

Bev’s eyes crinkled as she beamed. This was better than Ben had ever imagined. This was real. And this was really, really romantic.

[captainbaneberry]

Nautica/Firestar. Nautica is fixing a control panel in a vent and her lower end is sticking out of the vent in a hallway. Firestar comes by and sees her sticking out and decides to take the opportunity that is presented and frags Nautica silly. Nautica gets moaning and it echoes thru the ventwork.

“Solus, the wires are such a mess.”

Firestar exvented, checking her chronometer. She looked at Nautica across the room. Nautica’s top half was wedged inside an open vent as she worked on the fixing… God, Firestar couldn’t remember. She’d been repairing the damn panel for nearly an hour now, and Firestar was getting impatient.

“Just promise you’ll fix it in the next thirty minutes,” Firestar pleaded, sitting back on the bench. The room was tiny, and Nautica’s rear was… very close to Firestar’s face. Not that she minded; Nautica had a nice aft. But she had made plans with her amica endurae that evening, and wasn’t keen on breaking them.

“You can go without me, Star,” Nautica reassured, binding two shredded wires.

“You’re always trying to get out of these things,” Firestar huffed, glowering at Nautica’s behind. “Besides, it’s just a little get together. Rosanna and Glyph are throwing a party after officially becoming amica endurae. They only invited me, you, Astroscope, and Cryostase. Glyph and Astro are huge nerds, so you’ll get along with them fine.”

“I just don’t want you to feel you’re forced to stay here,” Nautica explained.

“It’s to keep you company. S'what amica endurae do.”

Nautica smiled. “Yeah, true.” Even if that also meant going to parties they had no interest in, to support their friend. Firestar was also hoping to introduce her to more friends, to get Nautica out of her shell. “Well, Firestar, got some good news,” she said, quickly reconnecting the last three wires. “I’m all done!”

Firestar bumped a fist, mouthing a wordless “yes!” “C'mon, glitch,” she said, standing, flames on her head flaring. “Let’s get you polished up then go party!”

Nautica nodded. “Yup.” She braced her hands against the walls, using them to push herself out. “Just a second…” Except… nothing happened. She pushed a little harder, but armor and kibble along her back and shoulders got in the way. Armor that could not be removed properly at this angle.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Uhh…” Nautica shoved and wiggled a few more times. “I’m… sorta… stuck.”

“Stuck?” Firestar gawped. “How’d you even get in there in the first place!”

“I just–crawled in! I don’t know!”

“Well, can we take the wall apart a little?”

“No way! We’d get into so much trouble!” Nautica disagreed, shaking her head. “Why don’t you try pulling me out? I might dent a few things, even tear my pauldrons, but… Well, the show must go on.”

Firestar nodded. She took Nautica by the legs. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

Firestar started pulling. Nautica struggled, until the pain shooting and jabbing through her torso was unbearable. “S-Stop! Stop!” she cried, dropping her fhead. Venting heavily as her spark skipped and jolted in her chest.

“Why don’t we call maintenance?” Firestar suggested.

“Maintenance isn’t here,” Nautica exvented low and long. “That’s why they asked me instead.”

Firestar stamped her foot, pouting. “Well… I’m sure one of them could come back. Or we could call an ambulance. There’s a clinic a few blocks away. So long as we’re out in forty-five minutes, we’re good.”

Nautica groaned. “I suppose. But I can’t comm anyone from inside this thing. Blocks signals.”

“Mm'on it, bot,” Firestar chuckled, opening a commlink. Nautica, ashamed with her face buried in her hands, listened to her friend explain the situation. A minute later, she closed the transmission, and now Firestar sounded grumpy. “They said it might take about thirty minutes to get here, maybe more. I don’t think she took me seriously.”

“Just go to the party without me, Star.”

Firestar rolled her optics, flopping over Nautica’s rump and resting hands on her back. “We’re stuck. You in there, me with you,” she snorted, half-grinning. “If they take any longer, I’ll ring up Rosanna and explain what’s up. The party ends before night simulation anyway, and that’s in four hours.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Firestar was about to say something, when suddenly an idea struck her. One that made the fire crackling from her helm brighter and stronger. “No need to apologize, Nautica,” she said, cupping her friend’s aft. “I think I know what we can do while we wait for help to arrive.”

Nautica’s optics flickered, twin beams of blue light in the dark shaft. “… By the, uh, hand on my aft,” she gulped, “I’m assuming…?”

“Eyup.”

“Like this?” Nautica squeaked. “B-But–”

“No, no, it’s perfect,” Firestar chuckled, tapping her fingers on Nautica’s panel. The purple bot jumped. “Unless you don’t wanna, and we just… stand here and complain.”

Nautica chewed her lip. “W-Well… I mean… I guess it’d be… interesting?” Firestar was always trying to get her try and do new things. Maybe this qualified as one of them? “Okay, but! The moment I hear someone on the other side of those doors–”

“–Right, right,” Firestar snickered, “cut me some slack. It’ll be great, trust me.”

Nautica trusted Firestar–with certain things. This… not so much. It’d be a first time for the both of them. Or, at least, Nautica figured it was. Firestar was known for having some interesting kinks, after all. She didn’t expect much out of this experience; it was probably going to be more awkward than pleasurable. Uncomfortable, given her position.

… Nautica had been wrong before. Because what did start as weird and slightly discomforting fondling and prepping turned into something too ridiculously incredible for a situation like this. Firestar was soon holding her hips, lining herself up to Nautica’s channel before sliding inside, inch by inch. Nautica gasped, slamming a fist against a wall; the vibrations rattled through the entire shaft, metal wobbling.

Firestar was much more skilled when it came to interfacing. Nautica had done her fair share of fragging, but not nearly on the same level as her amica endura. She knew what to do to have a pretty good time, but this… Interfacing with Firestar was always a wild ride. This took the cake, and Nautica wasn’t exactly sure why. It couldn’t have been her own slight exhibitionist streak; she was a mostly introverted person. But Nautica knew the sounds she was making were loud enough to travel through the shaft and out the vents into rooms, some with probably really confused people inside.

“S-S-Solus, Firestar, oh mm–” Nautica whined, panting. Firestar was fully seated inside of her; sometimes slamming half in, half out, other times pulling out to the tip then thrusting, over and over again. The pace was too fast, unpredictable, and all Nautica could do was cry and whimper and clumsily shake her bottom half in Firestar’s arms.

Nautica could just imagine Firestar’s unit–red, orange, with blue biolights along the shaft and top of the head. The heat of their light radiated against her channel walls, wet and expanding to take more of the fiery bot. Her channel, obscenely open and dripping so much lubricant; she could feel it on her thighs, down her legs, and wondered just how big a puddle she’d made so far. Fun explaining that to the EMTs when they came around. Nautica might have complained, but all that she could say was Solus and Firestar’s names, peppered with plenty of profanities and mewls.

“Y-You open s-so nicely for me,” Firestar sneered, chewing on her tongue. Bending over the purple bot, one hand still holding a hip as the other steadied itself against the wall. She snapped her hips faster, repressing laughter at the loud squeals coming from inside the shaft.

Nautica was rocking hard and fast, the armor and kibble keeping her stuck in the hole pounding against its edges. Didn’t hurt–at least, she couldn’t feel any pain. Nothing strong enough to tear her hazy, spinning mind from all the heat and sensations racing from her channel through the rest of her frame. “F-Fire-s-star,” she stammered, crossed optics lidded and tongue hanging from her mouth. Fingers digging into the walls at her sides intensely enough to dent the metal. It was getting far too humid in this shaft, making her even more dizzy. Two stories above, a Camien was peeking inside their vent, wondering about the strange muffled noises.

“Scrap, Nautica,” Firestar snarled, watching her unit move swiftly in and out of the purple bot’s channel. Never too much; the wet, clanging noises as her pelvis hit her aft not nearly as loud as Nautica’s yelping. “Could do t-this all day.”

Nautica vented out a string of oh-oh-ohs, coolant spittle flying from her lips and dangling tongue with each violent sway of her body. She grabbed her chestplates, finding a seam and probing it with two fingers. The low groan she made was fairly embarrassing, but only about three or so people heard it. No one could see her, thankfully, and she couldn’t hear anyone above or below complaining or questioning or suggesting checking the shaft for the source of the moans.

“You m-make such filthy s-sounds,” Firestar grinned, teeth clenched. She reached down, thrusting a finger beneath Nautica’s hood and stroking the node alongside her unit.

Nautica screamed, vision going white. Her visor snapped into place over her head. A second later, she heard a faint voice coming from below: “I-Is someone up there?”

“F-Firestar, Firestar,” Nautica croaked, “I’m gonna–harder, just a little–”

Firestar snarled. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just–”

The two overloaded, almost at the exact same time, give or take a few seconds. Firestar howled, tugging and yanking on her friend. Nautica cried out again, jerked just hard enough–both bots squealed as Nautica suddenly tumbled out of the hole, hitting Firestar and knocking them to the ground a few feet away.

Nautica slowly sat up, Firestar’s depressurized unit limp against her thigh. She glanced back at the red-yellow bot, blinking behind her visor.

Firestar snorted, then started laughing. “Your visor!”

“That was… What?” Nautica giggled, pushing the visor back. “How in the Forge…” She looked around, awed and baffled.

“Well,” Firestar exvented, “I think we can call off the ambulance.”

“Yeah,” Nautica agreed, wiping her optics dry. “You do that. I’m gonna… find some cleaner. And a mop.”