#little doodle I made cause I heard a song and it reminded me of him

[sun-ea-sports]

Been writing :3

[fallingappleshurt]

Project Pink

Sorry Y’all this one got away from me again and I wrote it while tired, again. Anyways here is some badly written shit and have a good period of existence in the universe!

Oh god my brain is going brrrrrrrr

Techno and Wilbur.

It had always been Techno and Wilbur Soode against the world.

Some would make jokes about how it was because they were identical twins, they got ridiculous questions like ‘If I pinch him will you feel it?’ or ‘Can you guys mentally speak- like through your minds?’ They would roll their eyes and say no, sometimes they’d joke around acting like they could read each other's mind or something stupid but it was rare.

They went through multiple foster homes, refusing to be separated from each other, if they ever were they’d find a way back to the other, because it was them against the world.

Then they got placed with Phil Wingraft.

He was different.

They had been through a few foster homes, some were good, some were okay, and one was really bad but Phil was different.

He treated them like they were normal, he was gentle but not patronizing or condescending, he would joke around with them but also became a person they could trust.

He took the time to learn about their interests, he got Wilbur a guitar and took Techno to the library every week. He took the time to recognize the difference between Wilbur’s crazy fluffy hair and Techno more tame but still wavy curls. Wilbur was taller then Techno by half a head but from a distance it was hard to tell. They both had the same shaped face and the same cinnamon colored eyes, the main difference was Techno had glasses.

They stayed with Phil for a year before they were officially adopted and became a family. A two years later he asked them how they would feel if he started fostering another kid, named Tommy.

“I’d be okay with that,” Techno said, shrugging, he hadn’t really processed it but he’d go along with it. Wilbur agreed too, nodding along, it seemed like it would make Phil happy so why not?

“That’s great, it’ll take a few days for the paperwork to go through, then he’ll be with us!” Phil was grinning, this was making Phil happy so this could make Wilbur happy.

Later they were in their room when Techno kicked the top bunk Wilbur was laying on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rolling his head halfway off the bed, trying to look at his brother.

“What?” Wilbur asked, looking over the railing.

“Don’t be like that, I know that look, you look like you just ate a suspicious lemonhead,”

“I don’t have a look like that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” His face softened, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about the new kid, Tommy, I-I don’t know, it just makes me worried, what if it changes things?”

Techno was quiet, he bit his lip.

“I get that, it makes sense but I don’t think anything bad will happen. Phil is great and I don’t think he would push us away, he’s not like that. Who knows, maybe we can have a little brother,”

Wilbur huffed out a small laugh, smiling softly, “Yeah, a little brother, that would be nice.”

Techno sighed contently, shifting back onto his bed. They laid in silence for a moment when Wilbur laughed.

“I mean, it’ll be nice for you, I already have one.”

“Two minutes Wilbur! Two minutes!”

Tommy joined them 4 days later, a little blonde dweeb with baby blue eyes. He was loud, annoying, and hyper. He would talk loudly when Techno was trying to do homework, he untuned Wilbur’s guitar, he said it was an accident but they weren’t really sure, and was overall like a bull in a china shop.

Techno was gonna pull his own hair out, Wilbur had come very close to locking him out of the apartment, they were both going to kill him.

It took them two weeks to fall in change completely.

It started when Tommy asked Techno for some help in his homework, it actually shocked Techno, the kid who was so loud and proud of his accomplishments shyly asking if Techno could help him with his math work was interesting, to say the least.

Techno almost said no, almost teased him, ‘What? The Great TommyInnit needs help? I thought you knew everything!’

Almost.

Tommy looked different, fingers nervously tapping on the packet, trying not to crickle it, eyes darting around, even his voice was shaky.

It reminded Techno when he’d ask an old foster parent for help, only they’d turn him away, telling him to figure it out, that they were too busy.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Sure, what are you learning?” He pushed some of his papers aside, making room for Tommy’s. Tommy grabbed a chair and sat next to him.

“Algebra,” He said, frowning, “I don’t get it- it’s just so weird,” He put his chin in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Algebra is super confusing-”

“Yeah right, you get everything, you’re really smart!”

“You’re smart too,” Techno offered, not sure what to say.

“Then name a time I’ve been smart!”

Techno short circuited.

“See!” Tommy gestured wildly.

“Tommy I’ve known you for two weeks, I’m sure you’ve done plenty of-”

Tommy groaned, “Nevermind, forget it-” He slid off the chair only for Techno to reach over and grab his arm.

“No, I’m sorry, just let me help,”

Tommy made a face but sat back down, “Fine.”

It had been 2 hours.

“This is useless! I’ll never get it!” Tommy stuck his hands in his hair.

“Just try this last problem, you’re so close!”

“No! I’ll just mess it up again!”

“You don’t know that, just try again!”

Reluctantly, Tommy picked his pencil back up and started on the equation. Techno turned back to his paper, finishing up a definition sheet, Tommy’s mumbles drifting in the background.

“Then add the two to get 16?” He looked up at Techno, who closed his textbook and looked over Tommy’s worksheet, covered in half erased scribbles, doodles, and pencil shavings.

“That’s right,” He grinned, reading over Tommy’s work again, “You did it,”

“Wait seriously? I got it right?”

“Yeah!”

“Yes! I did it!” Tommy pumped a fist in the air, cheering. “Thanks Techno!”

“Anytime nerd,”

Wilbur had been messing around with his guitar, sitting on his bunk, scribbling down music notes on a scrap of paper. He’d write a few phrases down and sing them softly to himself, strumming a few chords.

Scowling, he erased half the page, grumbling to himself; “It doesn’t sound right, why can’t I get it-”

“I thought it sounded nice,” Someone said from the bunk beneath him. Wilbur jumped, yelping, he hit his head on the ceiling. He leaned over the railing to see Tommy sitting on Techno’s bunk, limbs tangled around the latter.

“What are you doing? I thought you were out with Techno and Phil!” Wilbur said, sounding harsher and more shrill then he meant to, Tommy shrugged, “I didn’t want to go to the library today.”

“Wish I knew that beforehand,” He grumbled, going back to his music sheet.

“You seem mad,” Tommy observed, twisting his arm around the metal.

“Yeah I’m mad,”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I can’t get these stupid lyrics to sound right and you just scared the shit- I mean crap- out of me.”

Tommy cackled, “I’m telling Phil you swore!”

“Shut up,” Wilbur grumbled, gripping his pencil tighter. Tommy tipped his head to the side, “I don’t get why you’re angry, those lyrics sounded really nice.”

Wilbur paused, “You think so?”

“Yeah! It was really cool!” Tommy said, starting to come up the latter, he climbed onto the bed with Wilbur, “I liked it a lot!”

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks,”

“Can you play it again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Wilbur sat up straighter, putting the guitar in a better position , “I don’t remember all the lyrics though,”

He started playing, slowly his nerves of playing in front of someone else started to slip away as he fell into the rhythm and flow of the music. He looked up briefly a few times seeing Tommy, smiling widely, eyes filled with admiration. He finished the song and looked at Tommy, who immediately leaned forwards.

“That was so good! Write it down so you don’t forget! Wilbur that was epic!”

“Really?”

“Definitely!” Tommy leaned back, then quietly added, “And I’m sorry I messed up your guitar the other week, it wasn’t on purpose,” He trailed off.

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s fine, you didn’t do any real damage, just messed up the tuning,”

“I was messing with it cause I wanna learn how to play, could you maybe show me sometime?”

“Maybe, I’m still considered an amateur on most standards,”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy went to the same school as them, he was in the sixth grade while Techno and Wilbur were in 8th, so they saw each other in the halls every once and awhile. The one thing Tommy hadn’t been able to learn, despite the fact he had learned algebra, basketball, and some of the guitar, was how to tell Techno and Wilbur apart when they weren’t standing directly next to each other.

They had tried everything, Tommy would try to memorize the different clothes they wore each morning, the small differences in their hair, how they walked or moved around but nothing worked.

One day when they were in the car on the way home from school, Tommy was pouting, or ‘stewing’, as Phil would say. He barely talked the whole ride home.

“Alright I’ll bite,” Wilbur said, turning around in the front seat, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy frowned at him, “You both completely ignored me all day! I tried to get your attention so many times!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I never once heard you call my name,”

“Me either,” Wilbur confirmed, Tommy looked skeptical.

“How do I know that you guys aren’t messing with me?”

“He’s got you guys there,” Phil said from the driver's seat.

“We weren’t ignoring him! I swear, you must have gotten us mixed up again!” Wilbur insisted, waving his hand.

Tommy groaned, “Why is it so hard to tell you guys apart! Hey, could you just make it easier and not be identical twins?”

Phil cackled in the front, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It-It doesn’t work like that Tommy,” Techno snorted, half covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh come on! Just try it!”

Tommy was trying, he really was, but it was so hard to tell them apart. He knew Wilbur’s hair was crazier and he was Taller then Techno and that Techno had glasses but it didn’t help at all.

He’d go to ask Techno for help with homework only to find Wilbur, who also didn’t know jackshit about algerbra, or if he wanted to do something stupid he’d end up accidentally telling his plan to Techno who would immediately veto the idea.

After awhile he just decided to just try and slow down and see if one of the clones had glasses or not and that worked for him, sort of.

A few months later and they officially adopted Tommy into the family, he was an official Wingraft.

They went out and celebrated, laughing and making stupid jokes, it was nice. Then the next day Techno went to the store by himself, taking some of the money he had saved up from chores and searched a bottle of pink hair dye.

Picking out a color was surprisingly difficult, there were so many choices, taffy, bubblegum, creamy, carnation, but he eventually decided on ‘Rose Pink’. He bought a bottle then hid it under his bed, he needed to wait for the right time to do it because the dye had to sit for at least 30 minutes before he could rinse it out.

Phil was working late on Wednesday and Wilbur was going to see a movie with friends after school so he just had to lock Tommy out of the bathroom for like 45 minutes, which he would have no problem doing, and everything would be set.

The day rolled around and he found out that dying your hair is easier said then done, so much easier.

Techno set down so many paper towels in hopes to catch anything that might drip, then there was the process of making sure he got it all and wearing the plastic gloves made everything much harder to handle but eventually he was able to get the dye in place.

He set a timer on his phone then pulled out a book, hoping Tommy wouldn’t try to bust down the door, it didn’t lock but Techno had taken a rubber band from the door handle and wrapped it around the facut to try and give some semblance of a lock. All he had to do was wait.

Tommy was sitting on the couch watching TV when Phil arrived home, Wilbur in tow.

“Hey Tommy, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, nothing really interesting happened though,” He responded, “But Techno has been in the bathroom for like an hour,”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Phil asked, “Is he okay?”

“I guess so, I heard the shower running just a minute ago,”

Phil walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “Tech? You okay in there?”

Tommy heard the door swing open and Techno say, “Yeah I’m fine,” Phil didn’t say anything but Wilbur started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. Tommy turned around on the couch and saw Techno standing there, towel around his shoulders to stop water from dripping onto his shirt, hair the brightest shade of pink Tommy had ever seen.

He froze, much like Phil did, before he broke out into a grin, then a laugh, “Techno what-”

“Now you should be able to tell us apart,”

[hanatiny]

More Than Friends

a/n: Whether you have someone to dote on today or not, happy Valentine’s day~ Not only is this a not-so-little something for the holiday of love, it’s also a thank you for letting me reach 300 followers <3 

pairing: best friend!Yeosang x genderneutral!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2684

warnings: high school AU, friends to lovers, Wooyoung is no.1 wingman (or at least tries to be), Yeosang is absolutely whipped, reader is unfortunately very oblivious

-----

January, and with it your winter break, had come and gone - you probably wouldn’t have even realized it was February if it wasn’t for the excessive amount of heart-shaped, overly cutesy decorations that were littered across the hallways of your school.

You groaned internally, making your way past your classmates and towards your locker with a sigh. February itself wasn’t what bothered you so much, what made you positively abhor the month was how lovey-dovey everyone around you acted during that time.

You’ve never really had any interest in relationships and you made sure to make that clear, which is why you were surprised to find a neatly sealed light pink envelope in your locker.

You looked around subtly, wondering if the person who put it there was still around before quickly deducing that they probably weren’t. Curious, you turned over the envelope in your hands, just in case it was meant for someone else entirely. All you found however was your name with a heart and a tiny butterfly doodled next to it, which meant that this letter was indeed meant for you.

You chuckled endearingly, although mildly disappointed that your secret admirer’s handwriting was too ambiguous for you to correlate with a person. Before you were able to lament it more, a quick glance at your phone in your hand revealed to you that you were going to be late if you didn’t get moving.

Stuffing the letter into your pocket, you quickly gathered your books for your classes and booked it to your classroom after pushing your locker shut again.

You couldn’t focus at all however because you were unable to think about anything else other than who the person who had slipped the letter into your locker before you arrived that morning might be, and - more importantly - what exactly the letter was going to say.

Too occupied with your daydreaming, you failed to notice your usually calm and composed childhood best friend fidgeting under the desk behind yours.

Lunch couldn’t come soon enough for either of you, especially not for your mutual close friend Wooyoung who had been practically glued to both yours and Yeosang’s hips the moment you both left the classroom.

You heaved a sigh as you slumped down into a chair at a free table in the cafeteria, Wooyoung seating himself opposite you with Yeosang right next to him.

“What’s gotten into you today, Y/n? You seem so unusually out of it!” Yeosang elbowed his friend, at which the younger whined exaggeratedly but didn’t comment.

You pulled the pink letter out of your pocket and flicked it at Wooyoung to let him inspect the item before handing it back to you, his head tilted in confusion as he cocked a brow at you.

“You’re this worked up about a letter of all things? Don’t you normally just throw love letters and stuff away every year without even looking at them? What’s so different about this one?”

You shrugged nonchalantly while Yeosang poked at his food, listening more intently to the conversation than he allowed himself to let on, “No idea, Woo. Maybe I should just open it and find out for myself what’s so special...?”

You muttered the last part more to yourself than either of the males sitting at the table but they both still heard you clearly, prompting Wooyoung to nod enthusiastically and offer some what he hoped to be encouraging words, “Yeah, you totally should! Worst case scenario, you can just politely reject whoever wrote that.”

“Good point, I might as well... Here goes nothing.” You murmured under your breath, carefully opening the envelope before pulling out not only a piece of paper but also a small tube of strawberry chapstick which would’ve likely dropped to the floor if you hadn’t caught it in time.

You discreetly slipped it into your school bag after inspecting it briefly before your hands quickly unfolded the letter and dropped the envelope onto the table carelessly before beginning to read.

~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest Y/n,

I hope you don’t mind me confessing like this. I’m simply too nervous to voice my feelings out loud...

To yourself, you may not appear as someone special. To me however, you’re like a celebrity. You’re the most important person to me, and I wish we were closer than we already are as of now.

You’re a fresh breath of air to me, you’re not like anyone else. Everytime I talk to you I learn something new, and I think that’s beautiful.

Just like everything else about you. Your eyes remind me of stars the entire galaxy with how bright they shine, and I feel like I could get lost in them if I looked for long enough.

Your smile can light up an entire room, and frequently lifts my mood so effortlessly that it leaves me wondering how you continue doing it. Your voice is like music to me, and your laugh is my favorite song. And I want to be the reason that song keeps playing.

So, if you’d be willing to give me a chance to do so... meet me at the cat café later today after class. You know the one.

I hope I’ll see you there ♡

~~~~~~~~~~

You were so engrossed in the words on the paper that you didn’t look up in time to notice your friends’ reactions as you read before they recomposed themselves; a faint hint of a blush still tinted Yeosang’s cheeks while Wooyoung’s form relaxed after briefly tensing up slightly.

You folded the letter again and slipped it back into its envelope before, once more, dropping it on the table. You smacked Wooyoung’s hand away when he tried to reach for the letter, causing him to whine at you again as his lips formed a pout when you finally looked up at him.

If his eyes didn’t betray his curiosity, you would’ve said he was simply sulking because you hit him, but you knew better than to be that naive.

“No Wooyoungie, you won’t get to read it. At least not now.” You narrowed your eyes at your longtime friend as he huffed in disappointment, “But why~?”

“Because I can’t trust you to keep your mouth shut. The entire school would know about this by the end of the day.” You bit back, smiling triumphantly at the stunned silence Wooyoung offered in return.

“Touché.” Yeosang murmured, pushing his tray away to rest his arms on the table instead while he eyed you, wondering if you had any suspicions about the letter’s author.

As if reading his mind, your mouth opened to speak and Yeosang couldn’t help but focus on your lips, although he kept it as discreet as he possibly could.

“I want to meet up with the person behind these words. Something feels different about them... I initially suspected it to be Hongjoong, but his handwriting is nowhere near this neat."

Wooyoung snickered at that, but allowed you to continue and voice your conclusion.

"So for now, my secret admirer is a complete mystery to me."

"To you, and to everyone else." Yeosang added under his breath. He had a tendency to be quiet, so you weren't put off by this whatsoever.

"Indeed, Sangie...~" Yeosang felt his heart skip a beat at both the nickname and the somewhat affectionate lilt in your tone.

He was promptly yanked back out of his reverie however when you collected your belongings and stood to leave after checking the time on your phone, his eyes not straying from your form in the slightest, “In any case, we should probably get back to class.”

You turned on your heel and walked out of the cafeteria with Wooyoung in tow, the latter noticing his friend staying behind for a little longer than necessary but not commenting on it as Yeosang beamed, visibly lovestruck. It was a miracle to him and Wooyoung both how you didn’t take any of the countless hints he had given over the past few months, whether they were intentional or not being up for debate.

Completely zoned out, Yeosang jumped in his seat when the bell rang, prompting him to hastily grab his backpack and make a beeline for the classroom he shared with you, with quick steps.

He saved himself from tripping over his own two feet more than just once before he finally slid into the seat behind yours, breathless. You turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Are you alright, Yeosang?”

It was a simple question, and yet the clear concern laced in had the blonde’s heart lurching in his chest once more as he nodded with a reassuring smile. He hated how cliché his crush presented itself, as if he was just hopelessly infatuated with you.

This was absolutely the case, as the way his heart rapidly pounding in his chest proved, but that was beside the point.

You thought it was suspicious that he didn’t seem to trust his voice because it was in no way like him to be this flustered - or perhaps you should rather say insecure. You shrugged it off though and turned back around to focus on your lecture, thinking he may just be feeling a bit under the weather.

Both of you found yourselves unable to keep your minds from going off-track, however. Yeosang was still excited about the prospect of possibly having a very real chance to be with you the way he wished to, while you kept wondering about who your secret admirer may or may not be.

The end of your torturous classes didn’t come soon enough for either of you, Wooyoung mysteriously nowhere to be found when you and Yeosang finally left the school building. You were relieved to find the crisp morning air had warmed up considerably over the course of the day, somewhat surprising considering the time of the year, and exhaled deeply, pulling a soft endearing chuckle from Yeosang’s lips.

You grinned at your friend, having always quite enjoyed the melodious sound of his voice before your expression shifted to a miniscule frown when you were eventually forced to part ways with him. Because no matter how close the two of you were, you still lived in different neighborhoods.

You turned to face him with a small smile, adjusting the shoulder strap of your bag before wrapping your arms around Yeosang in a tight but warm hug before meeting his eyes again, “I’ll call you tonight and tell you how my date went, yeah? See you tomorrow, Yeosangie~”

You waited for him to nod and boldly leaned up to peck his cheek before walking off in the direction of your house, not aware of the way you had flustered the poor boy. If it had been possible he would’ve melted into a puddle right then and there on the sidewalk, his face flushed a bright red from calling your meetup a date as he walked on in the direction of the cat café he wanted to meet you at.

He could only hope that you’d stick to your word, and actually show up.

Meanwhile you squealed in excitement when you rounded the corner, making a run for it down the street to your home. You slammed the door shut behind yourself, thankful that noone else was home presently so you could get ready and calm down your nerves in peace.

When you had finally made yourself look somewhat more presentable than you did while wearing your school uniforn, satisfied with your appearance before halting your steps when your open school bag caught your eye. After a moment of hesitant consideration, you spread the strawberry chapstick you were gifted across your lips.

Fully content now as you took one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your phone and keys to stuff into your pockets as you left your house to make your way to the café a few blocks away.

When you arrived there, greeted casually due to being a regular at the establishment along with your friends, you were led into the outside area where the cats were allowed to roam freely.

You would often jokingly call it the ‘fluffy garden’ when you were younger due to the amount of felines you’d be able to interact with. Now however, you paused mid-step upon realizing what you were seeing.

Yeosang, your childhood best friend and secret crush, lying on a blanket on the grass. He had ditched the school uniform’s jacket for his own, personal favorite jacket, you mused as you took in his posture. He had one arm hooked underneath his head while the other rested on his side, his hand petting the small cat that had positioned itself on his chest and purred from his attention.

As if sensing your presence, the animal licked Yeosang’s fingers gently before scrambling to hop off of him and run to play with its furry friends instead. You regarded the scene with a fond look in your eyes before heat rushed to your cheeks when Yeosang finally turned to face you, flashing you the breathtaking shy smile you adored so much before beckoning you over and gesturing to the space on the blanket next to him.

You watched him turn to meet your eyes when you positioned yourself next to him, a smile tugging at your lips.

“So... I take it you were the one who ‘sent’ the letter, Sangie~?” The male in question nodded sheepishly, secretly finding it cute how you never stayed consistent with the nicknames you gave to people. “Yeah, it was me. Wooyoung helped though... the chapstick was his idea, among other things.”

You hummed at the nervous laugh that slipped past his lips as he waited for your reaction, “I expected as much. A mystery how he managed to not snitch, truly...” You trailed off, reaching to brush a strand of hair out of Yeosang’s handsome face. “What’s also a mystery is how neither of us seem to have picked up on the signals we tried to send each other.”

Yeosang tilted his head slightly, subconsciously leaning into your touch as he eyed you with somewhat furrowed brows, “But I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, Y/n?”

“I did say that, but I’m making an exception for you. I guess what I’m saying is... I like you back, Yeosangie. As in... like like you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation of his next move, practically seeing the cogs turning in his head before his face lit up with relief.

“I’m so glad to hear that, I was actually even worried you had changed your mind and wouldn’t come in the first place.” Yeosang took a deep breath as he took in your shy but genuine expression, “Can I... would you let me kiss you?”

You nodded, gently tugging him close by means of his jacket before he even had time to react. Your kiss was clumsy, as expected from two people your age, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It was perfect, just like you were to each other.

He grinned at you when he pulled back, “Did you put on the strawberry chapstick~?” You giggled in response, “Mhm, I sure did. What’s interesting though is that you taste like vanilla... and I happen to like vanilla~”

You spent the rest of the afternoon and evening talking and playing with the cats until it was time for the café to close, and you left to make your way back home. Together this time, hands interlocked.

Yeosang kissed you again lovingly when you reached your doorstep and promised to pick you up before school the following day before walking off into the night, a bright smile on his face.

You had barely set foot into your house and heard the door click closed behind you, when your phone vibrated in your hand. You didn’t need to check to know who was calling you at this hour, amusement filling you as you heard your now-boyfriend’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Well Y/n, how was your date~?”

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[rockinggirl06]

TRULY MADLY DEEPLY 💕

✨A Jily Songfic Oneshot✨

Wattpad + Tumblr Masterlist

Likes liked ! Reblogs adored ! Comments LOVED ! + Stealing is a crime !

Warnings: none ! Pure beautiful fluff !

Note: I highly recommend keeping the song on repeat on Spotify while reading the oneshot =)

- -

A one-shot inspired by and about Jily's wedding night and after. A James POV in verse. A Lily POV in chorus.

- -

Am I asleep, am I awake, or somewhere in between?

The boy woke up from his slumber. Shaking his head, he tried to recollect the memories of the night before. A cheeky grin enveloped his features as the thoughts of the day before flooded his mind.

I can't believe that you are here and lying next to me

His eyes fell upon the redheaded angel-like face, her chest heaving slightly up and down with every breath. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair which seemed more untidy than ever due to last night's.. *ahem* activities.

Or did I dream that we were perfectly entwined?

Was this it? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had it all been a dream? He already found it hard to believe that the girl had actually agreed to go out with him in seventh year..

Like branches on a tree, or twigs caught on a vine?

And now she was under his sheets. His sheets.

Like all those days and weeks and months I tried to steal a kiss

The uncountable times James Fleamont Potter had confessed his undying love for her to which she would just roll her eyes at the boy's childishness. All those times he tried to steal a kiss during their little studying sessions and how she simply would playfully stick out her tongue at him.

And all those sleepless nights and daydreams where I pictured this,

His three mates had grown tired of hearing the lovesick boy's mutterings about how he'd one day marry her. And his parchment and quills were also very  aware of the boy's hopelessness as random doodles with her name entwined always found their way on the corners of essays.

I'm just the underdog who finally got the girl

And there she was. The girl he had chased for as long as he can remember. Bright fiery red hair with a fiery personality to match: Lily Evans.

Potter now, actually.

And I am not ashamed to tell it to the world

The way he spinned her around wih glee when she nodded a tearful yes, the way a certain professor had gotten a wedding invitation with a "PS. I told you she loved me, Minnie." And the way he had sang louder than anyone else in the shower that day possibly making the entire Gryffindor house aware of his joy. The boy was head over heels in love, and well, she was falling too.

---

Truly, madly, deeply, I am

And he was on his knee. A gasp escaped from her mouth. This was the moment. Their moment. All her subtle stolen glances at him and the way he made her heart flutter everytime a teasing 'Evans' drawed from his lips.. all of that had lead to this. Tears lined her eyes as she nodded a yes.

Foolishly, completely falling

As a friendship blossomed between the destined pair, they took on their head boy and head girl duties. Potter had stopped with his continual display of affections to the girl and yet now the girl had started falling. Hard. Maybe she always liked him along the way. And it definitely didn't help how much taller and handsome he had grown over the summer.

And somehow you kicked all my walls in

And one day she couldn't help herself. On a patrol as usual as ever, she pinned the boy against the wall and kissed him. All those walls set up came crashing down as their lips crashed.

So baby, say you'll always keep me

After breaking apart, a red hue similar to her hair took over her corsage as the boy simply grinned in amusement and euphoria, and teased, "Alright there, Evans?"

Did she really hate the messy haired boy with the glasses? Nah she didn't.

Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

With all the roses and candles the boy had set up at their first night together as husband and wife, she couldn't have asked for anything else. And here she was remembering the events of last night where she had pulled his body into hers and made love as he kissed each and every one of her freckles softly.

In love with you

She was truly in love. In crazy, stupid, cliché, cheesy but beautiful love.

---

Should I put coffee and granola on a tray in bed?

She lay beside him and for the first time, he was confused. What was he supposed to do?? Prepare her breakfast? That would please her, right? His father always cooked for his mother. And he definitely could make a mean omelette.

And wake you up with all the words that I still haven't said?

But would that be the newly wed "husband" thing to do? Maybe he should wake her up murmuring sweet things in her ear? But on the other hand, the last time he woke her up, he'd gotten himself punched square in the jaw. And Evans —Potter! He kept forgetting yet always corrected himself with a shy smile— was rather strong.

And tender touches, just to show you how I feel

His tense shoulders relaxed as he simply admired the sight before him. Caressing her face, he tucked some of her red locks behind her ear as he placed a soft kiss upon her cheek. He could simply count all the freckles on her face over and over again. He'd never get tired of looking at her.

Or should I act so cool like it was no big deal?

Maybe he should just get up and shower. Did girls like it when boys made fuss about this or not? Well, then again, it was their wedding night. All doubts from his head were washed away as she gave a small smile and leaned into the touch of his hand which lay caressing her cheek. Maybe he'd just stay here for a few more moments, he decided.

Wish I could freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this

And to think everyone in the wizarding work knew we were on the brink of war. No! He refused to think of that right now. 'Live in the moment,' his best friend had always told him. And that's what he did. He snuggled closer towards the girl, putting an arm over her gently, and pulled her flush against his bare chest.

I'll put this day back on replay and keep reliving it

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and her sweet flowery scent consumed his senses. Their bodies entangled together beautifully and he couldn't think of a better day to start a day. He could now. He would now wake up every day to the love of his life. Maybe until when they were 100. Yeah, yeah he definitely would, the boy declared in his thoughts.

'Cause here's the tragic truth if you don't feel the same

People might consider it rather childish: the way he would confess his love for her ever since their third year. But he truly meant every love confession to her growing up. Maybe it was the sweet tinkling sound of her laughter, or her adorable pout whenever Flitwick assigned extra homework or Merlin, it was probably that one time she flirted with him after a Quidditch Match which caused him to become infatuated with her forever.

My heart would fall apart if someone said your name

And he truly loved her so much, words were never enough to describe it. He really hoped she felt the same.

---

And truly, madly, deeply, I am

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid." She meant that actually. James Potter was definitely an arrogant toerag. But that's the thing. He was.

Somewhere along the way, the prideful egotistic boy had become a caring and proper man.  Her green eyes couldn't help but linger on him more as his usual bullying time was replaced by maturity. That time turned into taking care of his werewolf friend, or even time for comforting his best friend who cried into his arms in the corner of the common room some nights.

And soon enough, a friendship blossomed between the unlikely pair of the redhead and the brunet.

Foolishly, completely falling

And sooner it turned into more..

"Ariel, Ariel uh- let down your window?" One night, a rather confused whisper came from Lily's bedroom window. With a startle the girl rushed to slide up the windowpane and was met with the lopsided grin and the familiar hazel eyes with a playful twinkle looking back at her. "Potter!" She shook her head with a chuckle as she allowed him in. "Evans.. I missed you, okay?" he drawed out sheepishly as he gently pulled her closer by her waist. Heat rose to her cheeks as she looked up at him.

And somehow you kicked all my walls in

The boy leaned down towards her lips unable to resist the girl any longer but Lily turned away at the last moment (resulting a rather sad pout on the boy's lips) as she heard her name being called downstairs. "Lily! Next time your boyfriend wants to visit at 12 am, tell him to use the door, okay? My rose bushes are ruined!!"

So baby, say you'll always keep me

And now she was waking up beside him.

She meekly opened her right eye to see if her husband —yes, husband she reminded herself proudly—was still asleep. A lazy smile on his lips, she was greeted with a drawl in his low morning voice, "Good morning, Evans."

Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

His infuriating smirks had now grown into breathtaking smiles. And he gave her one right now earning a blush upon the girl's cheeks. In his arms and close was exactly where Lily wanted to be. She smiled back endearing and simply looked at him with awe, treasuring the moment, before closing the distance between them. As she pecked his soft lips, she murmured into them, 'Potter, actually."

She was his and him, hers.

All was well.

Anyone catch the ending words reference? The first time I heard this song some months ago (maybe even a year oop—) , I just knew it SCREAMED #Jily. And so here I am finally writing and publishing this !

Thanks for reading and love you all you beautiful people !

Riri <3

[kevin-day-is-bi]

Here! An unnamed fluffy jerejean fic I wrote in a haze at 1 am this morning!

When Jeremy Knox smiled, it was almost bright enough to banish the shadows that still lurked. Jean saw, sometimes, worry lines around Jeremy's mouth and eyes. When he thought no one was looking, Jeremy's brows furrowed and his mouth tightened some days. The first time Jean noticed it was two months and some change after he had officially joined the team. The first month didn't really count, though, due to the fact that Jean had spent almost all of it on the court. 

There were many strange things about the Trojans, he had noticed. They were always smiling. Someone always had freshly died or cut hair, and Jeremy was usually surprised to see it unless it was his own hair. Uniforms were altered, makeup was done, friendships were formed, all outside of the court. Jean wanted to spend all his time on the court, but fast realized this was impossible. 

When he went back to the shared dorm he had with Jeremy, Jeremy was always there. No matter whether it was midnight or noon. Jeremy was there, sleeping or eating or on the phone with Laila. It helped Jean, more than he was willing to admit. Every time he was there he brought the decided feel of outside with him. He always brought outside to Jean, so Jean decided to stop being a burden and go outside himself. 

It was team brunch the first time. There were pancakes and burgers and the entire experience was the exact opposite if everything Jean had known. From them leaving their dorm to their arrival, full of 'ohhh shit I forgot my keys!' and laughter and Jeremy stopping by a street sign that read 'Moreau Ave.' to take a picture with Jean. In the Nest, when (if) they left, it was orderly and calm and silent. There was not loud pop music and sunglasses and Jeremy owning an impressively vintage convertible (Jean later found out it was actually Alvarez's, borrowed to make a good impression.) 

Jean was silent for the entirety of the meal. Jeremy didn't know how to be silent and talked enough for the both of them. Alvarez got them milkshakes and everyone shared some of theirs, except for Jean, who only allowed Jeremy a sip. Jean hadn't had a milkshake before. He liked them. 

The drive back was louder, somehow. Jean wondered if perhaps it was the sugar that lead Jeremy to practically yell song lyrics. 

Brunch happened two more times, as well as several dinners and countless lunches with just Jeremy. Jean rarely spoke. In the Nest, his only emotions were fear and fury, and those were felt as vibrantly as a burn. Once the leading factor in both those was taken away, Jean had some trouble determining other feelings. Even the brightest days were slightly gray. Though he felt his pit of anger return some days to give him enough energy to snap at someone holding their racquet wrong, he was mostly blank. This was when he noticed that Jeremy didn't always smile. 

He came across Jeremy talking to Laila one time. One walked quietly in the Nest, so Jean remained unheard as he almost rounded the corner where they were. He planned to keep walking, but he heard his own name whispered. So he slowed. 

Laila asked something he didn't catch and Jeremy's warm voice responded. 

"Everyone heals at their own time. You can't rush him." 

"What if he isn't healing? What if the Nest damaged something that can't be healed?" 

Jean froze. They were talking about him. None of Jeremy's normal light was present when he responded. 

"I've seen the people that come out of the Nest. They were broken, but not impossible to heal. No one is." 

Laila hissed something, but Jeremy's voice rose. 

"We thought Kevin couldn't be healed." 

Silence echoed. Jean wondered if he should walk away. Then, 

"I'm not going to stop trying. I wouldn't do that." 

Laila sounded hurt for reasons Jean couldn't place. 

"I know. You're a good person. He just worries me." 

A quiet moment, then a door opened and students started streaming past Jean. 

"Shit, class. Will you be alright?" Laila spoke slightly louder to be heard over the sounds of bodies. 

"Yeah. I should go back to the dorm. Jean should be back in a bit." 

Jean stepped sideways into the crowd of bodies and tried to seem unassuming. Jeremy was leaning against the wall. Laila's ponytail was disappearing down the hall. Jean almost stopped short when he saw Jeremy's face. 

No trace of the bright grin, no sign of the cheerful eyes. Instead there was a slightly lopsided frown, and a furrowed brow, and a far off stare. Something about it looked odd, like he was missing a body part. 

Jean kept walking. He walked all the way to the dorm, where he sat down on his bed and tried to ignore the quiet. Jean hated the quiet. There was a list of things he couldn't stand anymore, and Jeremy's presence usually prevented all of them. Jeremy had bought him a little nightlight that shined the pattern of stars on his ceiling at night, since Jean couldn't stand the dark. Jeremy was almost always playing music or talking, even at night, which prevented silence. Jeremy himself prevented Jean from being alone, which sent him into panic attacks and fearful spirals of anger and hate. Jeremy never wore black and didn't have any of the normal black notebooks for classes. Jeremy only wore bright red instead of a deeper, blood red. Jeremy had bright stickers over anything that had a 3 on it. 

Jeremy walked in, smile in place. It was impossible to tell how fake it was. Jean felt slightly bad for not responding to their efforts to help him. So he cast his gaze around the room as Jeremy chatted absentmindedly. His gaze snagged on a picture. He gathered every bit of wanting to socialize that he had within him and interrupted Jeremy. 

"I would like to go to the beach." 

Jeremy froze and turned. "What?" 

"I've never been to the beach. I want to go." 

Jeremy started vibrating and scrambled for his phone. "We're going to the beach." 

This was the start. Jean started classifying feelings as things that caused them. Joy was team brunch. Excitement was driving very fast in the convertible. Amusement was when Laila made Alvarez laugh when she was drinking a milkshake and laugh so hard the milkshake came out of her nose. Calm was rainy days with Jeremy, his nightlight on and soft music drifting from Jeremy's laptop. Jeremy's smile caused something Jean couldn't identify, so he didn't bother to. Slowly, the fog lifted. 

He smiled at things. He talked to the team. He learned that sass was a thing that existed and he could use, instead of just being meek or acerbic. He began to develop a healthy appreciation for all things yellow. It reminded him illogically of Jeremy. Jean came across no more talks about his healing, he never again saw the edges of Jeremy's worry. If he did, it was at something else, and Jeremy was trusting him enough to show the worry. It was an odd feeling. 

There were things Jeremy did that both confused Jean and made him happy. Like bringing him milkshakes or doodling flowers on Jean's homework or bringing him seashells when they were walking on the beach. Jean wondered if something like this had been waiting for Kevin. Wondered if that was why he had left; something like this had been taunting him. Then Jean wondered why he hadn't left earlier, 'he' being both himself and Kevin. California drove the darkness away. Jeremy and the Trojans waited ahead. Jean wondered some days why he was here. Why he didn't go back, now Riko was gone. But the Trojans had milkshakes and tacos and beaches and Jeremy had a smile brighter than the sun. That was enough. 

This has only been reread once. Hope you enjoyed it!

[presidential-facts]

Carrie plays the Bass

- Okay so Carrie would play the bass

- One day when Carrie was exploring her house, she was a curious little girl, she made her way into her father’s music room and discovered a really cool “guitar”

- Trevor found her when he heard the loud plucking of strings, however he didn’t get mad at her. 

- She was only 7

- Flashback After the boys died Bobby took a few of their things. Luke’s guitar (and song book), one of Alex’s hoodies, 

- Most importantly the first bass that his best friend Reggie had ever owned. 

- It was red and black with doodles on the bottom End of Flashback

- He realized his daughter seemed really into the instrument so he taught her what little he knew before getting her lessons

- As time went by she got better at playing the instrument

- Trevor was an even prouder father

- But, everyday his daughter reminded him more of his best friend

- At the age of 9 Carrie really got her best friends, Julie and Flynn

- They knew of her talent and enjoyed experiencing her passion for the bass

- At 13 they formed Triple Trouble, that didn’t last long though.

- When the three stopped being friends Carrie began to play the bass more religiously and triple trouble became double trouble

- She wrote songs about her feelings and pain, but never showed them to anyone, because of this it caused her to turn "cold"

- Now, when the boys showed up from the beginning they were basically trained to see Carrie, outside of performances, as satan herself

- (Reggie and Alex were never 100% about this, but Luke being the love struck puppy he is listened to Julie and Flynn fully)

- The day after playing the Orpheum the boys decide to visit Trevor’s mansion

- Once inside they hear a quiet, yet steady, bassline.

- As far as they knew Carrie didn’t play an instrument and Bobby… I mean Trevor couldn’t play the bass

- They went to investigate

- They quickly found their way to the source of music, in a room on the second floor

- Then phased into the room and discovered Carrie Wilson laying on her bed, tears on her face, playing a song unlike any they had ever heard

-The boys were shocked

- Reggie especially

- "Is… Is that my bass?”

- "Why is she crying?”

- “Who wrote that killer song?”

I would like to state that if you have already written something relatively the same please tell me and I'll take it down. I havent seen this exact thing so I decided to do it. -Lee

[kythed]

when we were young

oikawa tooru x reader

author’s note: this is pretty angsty! Read at your own risk :’)

--

You looked just as he remembered you, but more… vivid, if that made any sense. Your hair was more lustrous, your eyes glimmered brightly under the ballroom lights. Had your lips always been so soft and pink? Had you always looked so good in white? Had you always been this beautiful?

As he stared at you from across the floor, loosely cradling a stemmed glass of prosecco in one hand and wiping the sweat on the palm of the other, you laughed. He couldn’t hear you over the chatter of the crowd, but nonetheless your giggle resounded in his mind as if it were being projected by a sound system. You used to laugh at his jokes that way. You used to smile at him the way you smiled at someone else now. He had an old picture of you grinning like that back in his apartment in Argentina, tucked in between the books on his shelf-- he couldn’t bear to have it out in the open, reminding him of what he let go, but he also couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

God, he wished he could take a picture of you now. He hadn’t seen you that happy in ages. You were still laughing, playfully gripping someone’s arm and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. In the last days of his relationship with you, you had been so… gray. So lifeless. So different from the girl he’d fallen in love with as a second year high school student.

He’d come to realize it was his fault, of course. He hadn’t been treating you like you deserved. If he could turn back time, though… he would never have let you leave his side. He would never have let any of your tears go unwiped, never let you struggle on your own while he wrapped himself in his own problems and refused to face the reality of your unhappiness. He would have treasured you.

He recalled one evening back in high school. The two of you were deeply in love, as in love as one can be at eighteen years old. The night air was cold and biting, but seeing you wrapped up in his coat made him feel so warm inside. April in Miyagi was always lovely, but he thought it had never been as lovely as it had been that night, with you dancing in between the streetlamps and tugging on his sleeve to dance with you. There was no music but your laughter and no dance floor but the gravel road. You danced until you were breathless, and he smiled softly at your flushed cheeks and mussed hair and kissed you under a flurry of sakura petals. It was as close to movie magic as he could have ever possibly imagined. You were better than perfect, sweeter than fiction. So why, why had he let you go?

He had been so selfish. You had invested so constantly into him, supported him unconditionally, accepted his shortcomings and failures, and in return, he had gotten bored. At least, that’s what he had told you. He cringed as he remembered that last day. You’d looked up into his face, unshed tears glimmering on your lower lash line, nervously chewing on your inner cheek.

“Tooru,” you whispered. “You’ve been so distant. I… am I doing something wrong?”

He’d looked down at you coldly, and it felt like a shard of metal lodged itself in his chest but he let the words fall from his lips anyways: “I’m just bored of you.”

You flinched as if you’d been slapped, and the last thing he’d heard from you was “Goodbye, Oikawa” as you grabbed your book bag and left.

He hadn’t really been bored of you. You’d remained as spontaneous as the day he first met you, fresh as a daisy and enthusiastic as a puppy the entire year and a half he dated you. But you were always so honest, always so straightforward… it forced him to confront himself, to own up to his actions, and that’s what he began to hate. He began to hate himself. He couldn’t stand you continuing to look up to him when he couldn’t see himself as anything but a failure. You would never let him wallow in his self pity and spoil him like all the other girls did. You would try to pick him up, clean his face and help him improve. And he knew that’s what he really needed. He knew he didn’t need someone to stroke his ego and carry him when he was weak, he needed someone to teach him to save himself.

Seeing his weaknesses so plainly bothered him. So he pushed you away… he just never imagined you would stay away. Half of him was still waiting for you to come back, to knock on his door and shove a new book you thought he would enjoy into his hand, or to go rifle through his fridge for a snack. And even now, five years after graduation, after he joined Club Atletico San Juan and moved across the globe, a tiny part of his heart still belonged to you.

He had been surprised, to say the least, when he found the invitation in his mail. To Oikawa Tooru. You have been invited to celebrate the union of (L/N) (F/N) and Iwaizumi Hajime. Please RSVP to secure a seat. At the bottom of the invitation, you’d drawn a little smiley face. He could tell it was you who had drawn it because you’d doodled the same one in the margins of his homework countless times before during study dates. That little face taunted him, laughed at his regret. He deserved it.

Now, he watched you slow dance with his best friend in the middle of the floor, staring lovingly into your new husband’s eyes while he murmured into your ear. Had you ever looked at Oikawa that tenderly? Had you ever cupped the back of his neck so gently? He wasn’t sure. Probably not. It had been Iwaizumi who comforted you after Oikawa had cast you aside so cruelly, and it had been Iwaizumi you’d sworn loyalty to thenceforth. Oikawa had known you and Iwaizumi were together, but he hadn’t known it was so serious. Briefly, he imagined what it would be like to be in Iwa’s place right now, holding your body flush against his, inhaling the scent of your hair.

God, he needed to dance with you. Just once more, he needed to dance with you like he did that night under the sakura tree.

The song segued into another, and you and Iwaizumi stepped off the dance floor as another couple took your place. Oikawa placed his glass on the table, stood up, and moved across the room swiftly until he stood just feet behind you and Iwaizumi.

He cleared his throat. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

You turned and Oikawa swore he saw a breath catch in your throat as you gazed at him unblinkingly, lips slightly parted. Suddenly, your face broke into a broad smile.

“Tooru!” You leaned forward and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Oikawa froze briefly before wrapping his arms around you lightly-- you hadn’t called him by his first name in ages and you hadn’t hugged him for even longer. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Glad I could come,” he said with a terse smile. He turned to Iwaizumi and clapped him on the back goodnaturedly. “Iwa-chan! Look at you! A married man, finally. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Iwaizumi gave a rare smile. “Nice to see you too, Shittykawa.”

“Still gotta bully me after all these years, huh?” joked Oikawa, even though he felt his heart breaking to pieces. He turned back to you, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hey, listen, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I was wondering… could I have this dance?”

Your eyes widened just barely and you turned to Iwaizumi, who nodded.

“Go ahead, darling,” he said. “I have to go greet some of my relatives anyways. Just find me when you’re done.”

He gave Oikawa one last pat on the back before slipping into the crowd.

Gently, Oikawa took your hand and led you onto the floor, resting his hands on your waist. You rested yours on his shoulders, and he felt his muscles relax at your touch. The two of you swayed slowly to the music, a song he didn’t know.

Everybody loves the things you do

From the way you talk, to the way you move

“You look lovely, (L/N),” he said quietly. “Or should I say Iwaizumi-san?”

“Oh, call me (F/N),” you said, smiling. “I think we owe each other at least that.”

Oikawa smiled back sadly. He spun you around and caught you in his arms. “Yeah, at least.”

Everybody here is watching you

‘Cause you feel like home, you’re like a dream come true

You laughed that beautiful, beautiful laugh of yours. To him, it sounded like all his favorite songs wrapped up in one. God, he’d missed you.

But if by chance you’re here alone

Can I have a moment before I go

“This reminds me of when we were young,” you said softly, as you returned to swaying to the beat. “That night--”

“Under the sakura tree,” Oikawa finished. “Yeah, I remember.” I dream about it every other night.

“Yeah, that night,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory. “I had a lot of fun. I think we had just gotten out of a late night viewing of some silly romantic movie. You said you hated it, but I noticed you wiping tears away during that one kiss scene.”

Cause I’ve been by myself all night long

Hoping you’re someone I used to know

“Ah, I’d forgotten we’d even watched a movie that night.” Oikawa pulled you a little closer. “I only remember how cute you looked in my jacket.”

“It was two sizes too large,” you said, leaning into him. “But it was certainly warm.”

Let me photograph you in this light

In case this is the last time that we might

Be exactly like we were before we realized

“You’ve changed your perfume,” he said, suddenly. “I like this one better.”

“You still remember the perfume I used to wear?” You raised an eyebrow. “You creep.”

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless

Oikawa laughed-- a real laugh, not a fake one. “How could I not? You sprayed it on all the sweatshirts you borrowed.”

“I needed to give you something to remember me by,” you teased. Oikawa mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“I said,” Oikawa breathed. “I could never forget you, (F/N).”

You still look like a movie

You still sound like a song

You swallowed thickly, heat crawling up your cheeks and old wounds throbbing. “Tooru…”

“I know, I know,” he said with a small smile. “It’s your wedding. I’m not here to win you back, and I’m glad you’re happy with Iwa-chan. Just… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

My God, this reminds me

“I forgive you, Tooru,” you said, burying your face in his chest before the tears spilled over. “I forgive you.”

Of when we were young

The song ended, fading into some generic jazzy tune. You and Oikawa stopped dancing, but you still stood there in the middle of the floor, staring at one another.

“You should tend to the rest of your guests,” Oikawa said finally, and you nodded. “Thanks for the dance.”

You squeezed his hand one last time, and turned to leave, but he didn’t let go. You looked back over your shoulder. “Tooru?”

“(F/N)...” Oikawa took out his phone. “Can we take a picture?”

You laughed. “Always so sentimental. Of course we can.”

The two of you posed for the selfie, and for once, Oikawa didn’t make some stupid face or stick out his tongue. He smiled and snapped the picture before tucking his phone away again. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Tooru,” you said. It was the same thing you said all those years ago, but this time it was warmer, kinder.

“Goodbye, (F/N).”

---

When he got back to Argentina, Oikawa took out the picture of you he had stowed in his bookshelf. He looked at it one last time, drinking in your youthful beauty. Then he threw it away. He didn’t need that one anymore.

[neverending-space]

Jim Moriarty x reader

A/n: So whenever I’m procrastinating, I write stories and I thought, why not share them, you know, cause I’ve been putting off writing ‘Get away’ and I was watching Reichenbach Fall

Note: there’s no real conclusion, it’s just for fun.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“There’s been another one! Pentonville!!” Donovan threw her phone down as Greg swerved past other cars in desperation. “Greg you’re gonna kill us!!” You shouted, holding onto the seat in front of you. The minute the car stopped, you, Donovan and Greg ran out the car and into the building, putting on Kevlar vests (just in case) on your way to the vault. The vault opened and there, sitting on the throne in all his Irish glory, decked out in the Crown Jewels, was James Moriarty. “No rush.” He said in a carefree manner, waving his hand for theatrics. ‘God I love that man...’ You thought, snapping a picture of him before SWAT cuffed him. “What are you doing!?” Donovan asked you, venom laced in her voice. “What do you thing I’m doing Donovan? This is literally the coolest thing ever.” You sigh, putting your phone in your back pocket. As SWAT marched James past you, he stopped and leaned in. “Send that to me, will you darling?” He winked as they pulled him away. You struggled hard to keep the blush off of your face. Ever since the bombing case two years ago (which John dubbed ‘The Great Game’) you had had an incredibly annoying infatuation with the criminal. You would often get little notes signed with a simple ‘JM’. You knew it was a terrible idea to get emotionally invested, but oh well right? Greg gave you a strange look as you two were walking out to wait for John and Sherlock. “What?” You ask, turning you head slightly to get a better look at him. “Nothin” He brushed you off. “Greg...” You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s just- you act... weird around him.” He jerked his head in the direction of Moriarty’s departing police car. “I act weird around everyone.” You roll your eyes, but you can feel the heat returning to your face. “I know, it’s just- different. Did he do something to you?” He asked, fatherly concern showing on his face. “No. This line of questioning is over.” You cross your arms and take a defensive stance as the boys arrive. “Garry, what did you say to my sister?” Sherlock sauntered up as Greg threw his hands in the air. “C’mon you two, I’ll show you the footage.” You beckon them as you started walking. Unfortunately Sherlock is a million times taller than you, so he caught up easily. “Are you okay?” He asked, his curls blowing in his face. “I’m fine Sherl, it’s my thing, Greg was just concerned that’s all.” He looked at you, confusion now etched in his features, as if he was silently asking ‘who?’. You let out a snort of laughter and his face relaxed.

“Remember, he’s a psychopath, he’s insane!!” Greg yelled after you as you make your way to the interrogation room that Jim currently inhabited. You opened the door, looking back at Greg you yelled, “I’m a big girl dad, I can take care of myself.” You hear Jim chuckle as you close the door and sit down. “Hey man, how’s prison?” You ask, taking out a notepad and pen. He looked at you skeptically. “You’re going to take notes..?” He asked, annoyance evident in his voice. “Pff no! I’m not an idiot! I tend to doodle when I get bored.” You said, spinning the pen between your fingers. Slowly, he put his hands widespread on the table and stood up, leaning forward. “Is that a challenge...?” He asked, his tone dangerous. You mirrored him and held eye contact. “Damn straight.”

You were hanging out with Sherlock in his flat when the phone rang. After a few moments he hung up. “Not guilty?” You asked, following him to the kitchen. He hummed a response before putting the kettle on. You jumped to reach a high shelf and grabbed a box of biscuits. Sherlock snorted when he saw you. “Aw shut up long legs.” You grumbled, pulling a few biscuits onto a plate. You set them on the small table beside John’s chair as Sherlock picked up his violin. You picked up your copy of ‘IT’ and flopped onto the couch as you heard the stairs creak. “Most people knock.” You said, not looking up. “...But then again, you’re not most people... are you?” Sherlock asked, turning around. “Kettles just boiled.” Putting your book down at the mention of tea, you took in Moriarty’s appearance. He was wearing a nice white button up with matching grey pants and a blazer. He was also wearing a cool looking tie pin. “Johann Sebastian would be appalled” He said, picking up an apple out of the bowl that you had placed, his Irish drawl as prominent as ever. “May I?” He asked, tossing the apple up in the air and catching it again. “Please.” Sherlock said, using his violin bow to gesture towards John’s seat. Being the devil he was, Jim chose to sit in Sherlock’s seat instead, shooting a smirk in your direction. “You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his... pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end-“ Sherlock interrupted him. “The dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it.” He said, pouring tea. “Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody.” You and Jim said at the same time. He, once again looked over at you, a sparkle in his eye before Sherlock’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Neither can you, that’s why you’ve come.” Sherlock walked over to you and handed you a cup, which you took with a smile. “But be honest, you’re just a tiny bit pleased...” You hid your face with the teacup, silently hoping the boys wouldn’t pay much attention to you. “What with the verdict?” Sherlock asked, now handing Jim his tea. “With me-“ He said, a sly smile on his face. ‘Fuck... Stop being so hot!’ You thought. “Back on the streets.” Sometimes you wondered how he managed to sound so much like a snake. “Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” He said, staring up at Sherlock who had yet to sit down. “You need me,” He stated in a matter of fact tone. “Or you’re nothing... because we’re just alike; you and I. Except you’re boring... you’re on the side of the angels.” Sherlock ignored this and instead changed the subject. “Got to the jury of course.” Silently sipping your tea, you observed the two. It was like a scene from a TV show or something. “I got into the Tower of London, you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?” He asked as Sherlock finally sat down. “Cable network.” You said, just realizing it. Their attention was now turned on you as Jim began to explain. “Every hotel room has a personalized screen, and every person had their pressure point.” It felt like he was staring into your soul now. What he said had vaguely reminded you of Charles Magnussen, a blackmail extraordinaire that Mycroft had told you to stay away from. Naturally you learned everything you could about him. Real creep he was.

“Someone that they want to protect from harm...” At this, he turned to stare right at Sherlock, there was no doubt in your mind about what he was insinuating. “Easy peasy.” He said, taking a sip from his tea, your eyes automatically drifting over to his pink lips. “So how’re you gonna do it?” Sherlock asked, finally speaking, “Burn me?” He too brought his cup to his lips. “Eh that’s the problem...the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?” He asked, his voice light and detached. “What’s the final problem? I did tell you, but did you listen?” He taunted, ending his question in a sing song voice. Putting down his cup, he began to tap his fingers on his leg. You focused your attention on that. ‘Seems very familiar...’ You thought, storing the pattern away in your mind palace for further inspection at a later date. “How hard do you find it- having to say ‘I don’t know’?” Sherlock responded immediately with, “I don’t know.” You smirked, knowing that you would’ve said the same. “Oh that’s clever, very clever, awfully clever-“ Jim mumbled as Sherlock shot you a quick smile. “Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?” Jim asked, peaking your attention. “Told them what?” Sherlock asked, steapling his fingers. “Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.” Of course you already knew as well. “No.” He responded. “But you understand.” It was more of a statement than anything. “Obviously.” Sherlock responded. Jim turned his body to face you. “Do you?” He made eye contact. “Of course.” You said, trying to take the emotion out of your words. “Off you go then.” He took a bite of a piece of apple he had carved out. “You want me to tell you what you already know.” You said, putting down your tea. “No, I want you to prove that you know it.” He briefly gestured at you. “You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to.” You said, matter of factly. “Good...” He encouraged you to continue. “You’ll never need to take anything ever again.” Feeling more confident, you let yourself relax. “Very good... because..?” Jim went back to carving his apple. “Because nothing. Nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London, or Pentonville prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.” Sherlock looked over with what could have been interpreted as a proud look, before Jim started talking again. “I can open any door, anywhere, with a few tiny lines of computer code... No such thing as a private bank account now, they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy, I own secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king- and honey, you should see me in a crown...” He shot a quick wink at you before putting on a relaxed smile. “Twenty quid and I’ll get that tattooed.” You spoke up, breaking the tension Jim caused. He let out a little frown, knowing he lost Sherlock’s undivided attention. “Deal.” Sherlock said, tossing you his wallet. “Coolcoolcool, I’ll book the appointment.” You said, grabbing your laptop. “You were advertising throughout the trial, showing all the things you can do...” Sherlock observed, brining the tension back. “And you were helping. Big client list, rouge governments, intelligence communities, terror cells... they all want me... suddenly, I’m Mister Sex...” You stopped tyiping. “Ugh, amen!” You thought, but apparently you had said that out loud and they boys were giving you extremely opposite looks. Jim was smirking at you, his eyes wandering to who knows where and Sherlock was glaring at you. You cleared your throat, your face flushing bright red. “I’ll just- yea I’ll just leave- um, okay, bye. Don’t-“ You pointed at Jim, “Don’t kill anyone.” You slowly picked your laptop up and ran out the door.

[katieykat513]

That’s The Way It Is

I made this for the wonderful, hard working @ao3bronte

This was only supposed to be a drabble; the work count determined that that was a lie.... 

Here’s the Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188539

____________

Ladybug didn't think too hard about the night she showed up to patrol, Chat Noir dancing and singing to Celine Dion. She landed on the roof as her partner danced back and forth, serenading the night in beautiful English, Where Does My Heart Beat Now.

“Where does my heart beat now?/ I can't live without/ Without feeling it inside/ Where do all the lonely hearts go?”

One thing was for certain, his voice was beautiful. “Putting on a concert for me, Chaton?”

He nearly fell off the roof in surprise. “My Lady!” He squeaked, switching back to French, his face burning red. “How long have you been standing there?!” 

She smiled, amused at his high pitched voice. “Oh, long enough to see how well you can move your hips, Kitty Cat.” She winked at him, his face turned redder than it was before. 

“Uhh, can we just forget you saw that?” An uneasy grin settled onto his face. 

“Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Celine Dion is a wonderful singer.” She crossed her arms and gave him a sideways glance as he rubbed the back of his neck in his familiar, nervous habit.

“Yeah, well, just don’t tell the Ladyblogger, ok? Can’t have it out that this suave cat is a big ole wuss puss.” He flexed his biceps to exaggerate his point.

“Wuss puss, huh? I think you do that perfectly fine without that particular knowledge getting out.” She giggled as his face and arms fell.

He reared back up, placed one hand over his heart and the other over his eyes, “My Lady, you wound me so!”

After her giggling died down, they started patrol, Chat’s singing nearly forgotten. It wasn’t her fault that she turned on a Celine Dion album when she returned home that night.

____________________________________________

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Chat had solo patrol, that Marinette was once again reminded that her partner was a die hard Celine fan.

Marinette lounged on her balcony, her sketchbook lay on her lap, as she looked out over the Seine. It was a lovely night to sit outside and sketch the outfit that she had been thinking about all week. Maybe this outfit would get Adrien to become a stuttering mess for once; probably not though. 

She opened her sketchbook and started to sketch a few basic lines when she heard it. A beautiful voice, singing in English.

“Love can touch us one time/ And last for a lifetime/ And never let go 'til we're gone”

The voice came from the other side of the roof and sounded like it moved past her quickly. She rushed to the balcony railing and looked around in the darkness to figure out where the voice  had gone. Finally she noticed the silhouette of her partner two rooftops over, leaping and singing My Heart Will Go On. 

He disappeared over the next building and Marinette shook her head as she headed back to her chair to finish her outfit. “Damn cat,” she muttered to herself.

She sat back down, put her pencil to the paper and froze. Her outfit would not come. All she could think of was Chat Noir singing that damn song. In her mind, all she could see was Chat Noir on top of the Eiffel Tower, arms spread wide, as the wind whipped his hair around his faux ears, yelling to all of Paris, ‘I’m the king of the world!’

“Uhhggg! Dumb, stupid, lovable, furball!” She grumbled as she turned to a different section of her book that contained doodles. Her pencil met the paper and the drawing came to life.

_________________________________

The next day at school, Marinette sat on the benches between the lockers, smiling at her drawing from the night before. So lost in thought that she didn’t register the humming of Because you loved me, nor did she see the shadow as it came up behind her.

“What you got there, Marinette?”

“Gahh!” She screamed as Adrien snuck up behind her. Her sketchbook flew through the air landing face up, the sketch exposed for all to see. 

Adrien’s face went pale. “Wh..what is this?” He picked up the book and spun it around to look at the drawing. 

“Uhh.. just a doodle. Came to me randomly last night.” She stuttered out as she reached for the book, but he took a step back and hugged the book close. She bit her lip and thought something was wrong with it and almost missed what he said next.

“Can I have a copy?” He breathed out. 

“I’m. Sorry?” She said, completely confused. Why would Adrien want a picture of Chat Noir in a Titanic pose? And why did he look so pale and red at the same time?

“Uh. Oh. Um. You see. I’m a huge Titanic fan. And a huge superhero fan.” He stuttered out, not making eye contact,  his face became increasingly red as he went along. He stopped and had a look of dawning on his face, “Actually, can I make a request?”

“Uhh. I guess so?”

“Can you make me this sketch, but can you do it from later on in the movie, when it’s Jack and Rose. But can you make it Ladybug and Chat Noir and on the Titanic? Please? I’ll pay for it! How much do you want?” 

After breaking out of her shock, Marinette couldn’t help but lovingly smile at him as he became more excited as he spoke. A plan was already forming in her mind as pieces of a puzzle she didn't know she had, started to form in her head.

“Adrien.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to pay me.”

“But I can!!”

“But you won’t! Don’t worry Adrien, I’ll do it for you, because you are my friend. And I love giving gifts to my friends.” She stuck her hand out and he placed the sketchbook in her open palm.

“Thank you so much, Marinette! This means a lot to me! You have no idea!”

“Oh, I think I have an idea,” she said quietly.

“What was that?”

“Oh! I said, I have an idea...for the picture..yeah! It’s going to be great, you’ll love it! Ok. Gotta go! See you, Adrien!” 

She gathered her belongings and left the locker room, not stopping until she reached her room. She flopped down on her chaise, grabbed the pillow, and proceeded to scream into it. Tikki flew out of her purse and landed on Marinette’s head. 

“Marinette, are you ok? It’s just a drawing.”

Marinette lifted her head up and sighed dreamily, “It’s so much more than that.”

Confused, Tikki flew off to the bed while Marinette threw herself at her desk and began to furiously draw.

__________________________

A few days later the drawing was ready and she had a wonderful way to give it to him. Right before sunset she transformed, grabbed a blanket with supplies and hopped over to the roof next to hers. The same roof where Chat Noir had told her that he was glad to have her as a friend and she told him she was in love with another boy. 

Oh the irony, she thought.

She set up a blanket, placed two pillows at each end, and put a box of assorted pastries, mostly passionfruit, in between them. She placed a few fake candles around the blanket and a small bluetooth speaker next to one of the pillows, but mostly out of sight from someone not looking for it. Satisfied, she looked at the time; two hours till showtime. 

She hopped back over to her balcony and went down into her room. She grabbed her phone and a present off her desk, wrapped in black paper with a green ribbon, and hugged it close to her. She really hoped he liked it. She went back outside and hopped back over to the roof, except this time she hid on the other side of a chimney and waited for him to arrive. 

Once she heard the tell-tale metallic sound of his staff twirling through the air, she looked at her cell phone and opened the music app. She had the song queued up, all she had to do was push play as soon as he landed. 

She peaked around the corner of the chimney and the look of awe on Chat Noir’s face had her grinning ear to ear. She looked back down to her phone and pressed play. Power of Love started to play through the speaker causing Chat to jump into the air in surprise. 

As the song headed toward the second chorus Ladybug got ready to make her appearance; she was going to knock his socks off. He kept looking around for her, and the moment he had his back turned from her couldn’t have worked out more perfectly, as she walked from behind the chimney, present in hand, as she sang in accented english.

“'Cause I'm your lady/ And you are my man/ Whenever you reach for me/ I'll do all that I can/ We're heading for something/ Somewhere I've never been/ Sometimes I am frightened/ But I'm ready to learn/ Of the power of love.”

“La..Ladybug?!” His voice was tight. He was on the verge of tears, wondering if this was real, a sentimonster, or a dream. His hand twitched to grab his staff and run away from the situation. She paused the music and tossed her phone on the pillow.

“Hello, Chaton. I know what you’re thinking. Yes, this is real. No, I am not a sentimonster. And I know that’s what a sentimonster would say, but hear me out! When we fought Copycat, all those months ago, you remember what made me realize which one was real?”

He nodded his head.

“You looked up at me from the ground, winked, and said ‘Would I ever lie to you, Buginette?’ remember?”

“Oh My Lady!” He ran to scoop her up in his arms. “I was so scared! Never do that to this poor cat's heart again!”

“Sorry. Guess I was just a little excited.”

“What is all of this? Why now? And I didn’t know you liked Celine Dion too!!”

“All will be answered in time. For now, open it.” She handed him the present he had almost squashed between them when he hugged her.

“A present? For me? But it’s not even my birthday.”

“I know.” He looked up at her, confused, “Just open it!” 

She watched as he opened the present to reveal a small notebook that had pages that could be added or removed. He looked at it questioningly as she started speaking again.

“You see, I may enjoy Celine Dion, but not enough to commission a friend to draw a picture of his superhero alter ego, standing on the bow of the titanic with his superhero partner.” She looked at him as he lost all color in his face. 

He looked down at the book and opened it. There on the first page, was the original doodle of Chat Noir on the Eiffel Tower, encased in a plastic page sleeve. He turned the page and gasped. It was almost the same picture, but instead of just Chat Noir, Ladybug was standing right behind him, standing on the second rung of the railing, to make her seem taller, her arms wrapped around his torso, as she sat her head on his shoulder. 

“How did you..”

“Keep going, there's one more.” She interrupted.

He looked back down, tears glistened in his eyes, and turned the page. There, in beautiful color was a picture of two people standing on the bow of the titanic; except it wasn’t Ladybug and Chat Noir. Standing in the front was Marinette with her arms spread wide with Adrien behind her, his arms around her waist as she leaned into his chest. Picture Adrien leaned in to give picture Marinette a kiss on her cheek as her face was flushed. Both of them were wearing the original clothes that Jack and Rose wore.

“Mar...Marinette?” He looked up as tears of joy flowed down his face, to see Ladybug smiling wide at him. 

“Hello, Adrien. I’d drop my transformation but I didn’t exactly tell Tikki about all this, so I’d rather not have to hear a lecture quite yet.”

He gaped at her and rushed to gather her in his arms again. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! This is the best present anyone has ever given me! Thank you so much, My Lady! Oh! I call you Buginette!! It’s so close to your actual name! No wonder you hate it! But seriously, Celine Dion! I loved it! You have an amazing voice, My Lady! And your art? Wonderful! When we get married I’m hanging this in our living room for all to see!”

Ladybug laughed at the overexcited boy in a cat suit. “Well, Adrien has to ask Marinette on a date before she agrees to marry him. But I have it on good authority that she’ll say yes.” 

“Nope, we are skipping all the steps! We are going to go find someone to marry us right now! Show up to school tomorrow as newlyweds, and watch everyone freak out!”

“Ok. Ok. Calm down, Cat-sanova, we’ll get there. But first, I think you promised payment for a drawing. And as you can see I have provided you with three.” She puckered her lips out a little and batted her eyelashes. 

“Payment? But you said they were a gift! I would have brought my wallet! If I had known!”

Ladybug gave him a deadpanned look as he started to freak out again, “Adrien.”

“Yes?”

“Just kiss me, Chaton.”

“Ohhhhhh. That kind of payment! Yeah. I can do th..”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish, for fear that he wouldn't stop, grabbed him by the bell and yanked him down to her lips, as she threw her other arm to latch around his neck. His arms came around her waist, as they held each other tight.

Celine Dion would definitely be a part of their wedding playlist.

[pixelatedrose]

Can you do 39 with prinxiety? Sorry if I'm being a burden - 🌯

Prompt 39 Prinxiety

“Listen it’s not really my fault i fell in love with him!! HE WAS SHIRTLESS!!”

Word Count: 3,799 (I got a bit carried away with this one)

Warnings: uncensored swearing, mention of a dead animal (Skip from “It wasn’t that he had never wanted to go before,” to “The memory left a pretty solidly foul taste in his mouth and made him shudder.”)

Camping

  It was early August and Roman’s friends had finally convinced him to tag along with them to go camping.

  “But there are bugs!!” Roman complained.

  “So? Bugs are cool.” Virgil said, looking up briefly from his phone.

  “Oh yeah?” Roman continued to whine. “Well I hardly took you as one who enjoyed camping in the middle of nowhere with zero cell service, Dr. Gloom!” Roman antagonized the emo boy.

  Virgil stuck out his tongue at the sassy drama queen. “You’re just pouty cause we never asked you to come before because we thought you hated the outdoors.”

  “I do not hate the outdoors!!” Roman scoffed. “I just don’t really find the idea of bugs and sap and burnt food and bugs very appealing.”

  “Aw, Roman! Is this your first time camping?” Patton asked, calling from where he was placing an overfilled bag into the bed of Logan’s truck.

  Roman flushed and turned away haughtily. “Well it’s not my fault my moms never wanted to go and sleep on the ground!!”

  Patton clapped his tall friend on the back, smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, you’re going to have so much FUN!!”

  Soon the truck was packed, with Logan helping Roman make sure that he had everything necessary. (“No, Roman, you won’t be needing your fantasy elf cloak.” “BUT WHAT IF THE DWARVES COME FOR ME?!”)

  The car ride was long, Roman and Virgil sitting in the back with Patton sitting up front and Logan driving. Roman ended up falling asleep, his head resting against a drowsy Virgil’s shoulder. Patton, thinking this was the cutest thing ever, snapped a picture with the camera he brought along.

  “Logan, look!!”

  “Patton, dear, I am incapable of looking at whatever you wish to show me if I am to drive safely on this road.”

  “Oh, right, sorry! Virgil and Roman fell asleep on top of each other, that’s all!”

  “Oh. How lovely.”

  “Logan why are you pulling over?”

  “Revenge.”

  Roman and Virgil woke up in different positions, Roman’s face pressed up against the window and Virgil having adjusted to leaning against his seatbelt. They also awoke to marker coating their faces.

  “That’s for the cookies you two baked me last week.” Logan said when they had started freaking out.

  “But it was funny!!” Virgil protested, rubbing at the marker hearts doodled on his cheeks.

  “Cookies should not contain any- especially that much- pepper in it!! Consider us even, Ruiners of Sweets.” Logan seethed dramatically.

  The ride from then on was filled with karaoke, Disney, and laughter.

  When they arrived at the campsite, they tried to divide the work up. However, it became very clear that Roman had no idea what he was doing when he mistakenly snapped one of the tent poles clean in half.

  “Whoops…”

  Virgil sighed. “Great! At least I know how to fix it once I get home. I guess I’m sleeping under the stars tonight…”

  Patton shook his head. “Nonsense!! There’s plenty of room in Roman’s tent for you to sleep in there!”

  Roman nearly choked. “What?!”

  Virgil just shrugged. “'Ight. But I’m setting up tents from now on. Roman can make the fire.”

  “I do not trust that Roman will know an adequate way of starting a fire. Perhaps he can prepare food instead? It is probably something he should have been doing from the start seeing as I am not the best in the culinary arts.” Logan offered.

  Roman nodded, trying to keep his head up. It was just his first time camping after all. He was a little upset by the fact that he was going to be sharing a tent with Virgil. Why? He wasn’t 100% sure. But it made his chest flare up and his face burn. The fact of the matter was that he was incredibly nervous about sleeping in very tight quarters with his very attractive friend of whom he’d subconsciously had a crush on since they’d met in high school. But he would never admit such a thing. Especially when it was still so subtle.

  Dinner was finished, Roman figuring out how to cook over the fire after a few attempts, and with that, Patton took out his guitar and played songs that Roman hadn’t heard before, but the others seemed to know by heart. Stories were told and laughs were exchanged as well as shrieks in terror followed by evil giggles of delight. The sun was long put to rest by the time the fire simmered out.

  The friends parted to their separate tents and the lanterns were put out.

  Virgil unzipped the tent’s door, holding it open as if he were any semblance of a gentleman. “Just don’t you go falling for me because of this, Princey.” Virgil smirked, pushing Roman into the tent face first.

  Roman fell and from the ground mumbled sarcastically. “Trust me, not a problem.”

  Roman pulled a loose tank top over his head and turned to Virgil, expecting something similar. Except he found the pale boy, completely bare chested, reading a book in a position that had no right looking as attractive as it did.

  “Finally done getting ready, Princey?” He asked, sparing a glance up at the now red faced boy.

  Roman prayed that his colored face was hidden by the god-awful lighting in the now much too small tent. “Y-yep!!” Roman faked a nonchalant tone, trying not to stare so openly.

  “Great.” Virgil said, his casual tone was only what Roman dreamed he had sounded like. “I’m going to finish this chapter and then I’ll turn lights out. Don’t wait for me.”

  Roman tucked himself into his sleeping bag and turned away from Virgil, trying desperately to get the image of his friend’s surprisingly toned chest out of his mind. Did Virgil work out? He always looked so thin and stringy under his hoodie…

  “Night, Vee.” Roman wrestled the words from his throat, his voice cracking, making him want to die a little bit more.

  Virgil didn’t say anything and Roman, for the next twenty minutes, listened to the sound of quietly turning pages, all the while panicking at their closeness and, for the millionth time, trying not to think about Virgil’s lack of a shirt.

  Finally, Vrigil put his book down and stretched. He panicked even more when Virgil seemed to lean over to Roman and he shut his eyes, years of practice in pretending to be asleep finally paying off.

  Virgil leaned back and if Roman had his eyes open and had been facing the pale boy, he would have seen Virgil smile ever so fondly and sweetly, a light pink adorning his pale cheeks. “…Cute…” Virgil whispered quietly, not aware that Roman could hear him quite clearly in the silence of the night. Virgil flicked off the lights and, in a single line, probably made Roman fall irreversibly deep into the boiling pool of love. “Goodnight, my prince. I’ll love you tomorrow…”

  In the dead of the night, Roman heard Virgil’s breath even out next to him.

  Roman, red faced, turned to try and look at his sleeping friend, just to make sure, only to be met with a cute face not six inches away from his own. Even in the dark, Roman began to take notice of things he’d seemingly never seen before. Like how his dark hair faded perfectly into purple at the tips, making it look like purple flames. It made Roman want to reach out and fluff it about. Or the way his pale cheeks were impossibly cute and round, devoid of their usual makeup and beautiful. It made Roman want to hold his perfect face in his own imperfect hands. Or the way his lips curved so exquisitely, a soft beautiful thing. It made Roman want to lean forward and capture such flawless lips with his own.

  “We have a big fucking problem.” Roman whispered to himself.

~~•~~

  The next morning Roman woke up to the sound of pots banging.

  “WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY, WE’RE GOING TO THE LAKE TODAY!!!” Virgil’s voice had momentarily made Roman forget everything last night as it was, at the moment, the most annoying thing on the goddamn planet.

  Virgil threw the tent door open, somehow letting more light into the small area. Roman tossed the edge of his sleeping bag up over his face in dismay. “Nooo….What time is it even…?”

  Virgil stopped banging his pots for a half second. “About 8:45. When you’re camping, the sun’s your alarm, Princey!!” He trilled out in a sing-song voice.

  “Why,” Roman complained, poking his head out of his cocoon. “Is the one time you’re cheery the one time I wish you weren’t?”

  Roman opened his eyes and was met face to face with a sinisterly smirking Virgil, his figure framed in splashing golden light as he leaned in to get a view of Roman. “Because I live to be the bane of your existence, Princey!” He smiled all too brightly, and Roman was reminded of his ever growing problem as he felt his face heat up.

  Patton poked his head in through the doorway, ruining the picture perfect scene Roman had before him. It wasn’t that he minded, though. No of course not. He wasn’t upset at all that the picture of Virgil with perfect golden light shining around him in a perfect, sunny corona was thrown off by a smiling Patton. He would never be upset.

  “C’mon, Ro! It’s time to wake up!! Logan and me made campfire pancakes!!” Patton smiled. Virgil’s eyes lit up like Roman had never seen them light up before. A childish sparkle, like when a kid gets told they’re allowed to have two cookies instead of one.

  Logan’s voice called from outside the tent. “It’s ’Logan and I’ Patton.”

  ”Yeah, yeah, whatever, Honey. I’m just excited for campfire pancakes!!”

  ”We all are, Pat! Campfire pancakes are the only thing Logan can make edible, and of all the things I’ve eaten, it would be the one that should be considered fucking gourmet!!”

  Roman listened to his friends chatter as he got ready, suddenly upset he’d declined Patton’s offers for so long. It wasn’t that he had never wanted to go before, but he’d never been in the woods alone since his brother had forced him into the woods near their old house as children to show him a dead and rotting fox corpse. The memory left a pretty solidly foul taste in his mouth and made him shudder.

  He’d complain about bugs and charred food for as long as he needed to. He wasn’t about to let slip that he’d been scared to go back into a place that reminded him so vividly of something so distasteful.

  ”And he rises!!” Virgil said theatrically when Roman emerged from the tent. Now that he could see better, Roman looked Virgil over. His hair was slightly tousled from sleep and he was wearing a plain, dark t-shirt. His pale face bore practically no makeup, save for the remnants of his eyeshadow that seemed to never go away. His smile was bright and happy, excited in a way Roman had never seen before now. It was at this time that Roman realized this was one of a very select few times that he’d seen Virgil without a hoodie or jacket on. He was pretty. Honestly, Roman thought he should have noticed how charming the tall man was before now.

  Roman smiled coolly. ”Now where are those campfire pancakes I keep hear you guys yapping about?”

~~•~~

  The pancakes were amazing. And after hiking to a lake, Roman was starting to think camping really wasn’t all too bad. The trail had ended, coming out to the view of a crisp lake with a sandy bank, driftwood strewn about the shore. A wooden dock with a rope swing attached to the end adorned the right side of the picture and a picnic bench decorated a small grassy patch a short distance away from the shore, save from potentially splashing children.

  However the picturesque lake was absent of any and all people, leaving the entire lake to themselves.

  ”Wow…” Roman breathed out as the lake came into view.

  Virgil smiled fondly at the starry-eyed man next to him, not that Roman had noticed. ”Yeah. It’s pretty sweet, isn’t it?” Virgil said, walking with Roman to towards the shore as Patton gleefully ran ahead to the dock and Logan crossed over to the picnic table to place the bag containing their lunches. ”This place was actually pretty abandoned when me and Lo first found it.”

  Roman glanced at Virgil, who was smiling wistfully out at the clear water. ”Really?”

  Virgil nodded, sitting down on a large piece of driftwood. ”Yeah. Our families would go camping together all the time when we were kids. One day we came to this old, near abandoned campsite and found this lake after hiking an all but completely overgrown trail. It was my mom that convinced my dad to buy up the site. It was fairly cheap, but my parents made it their passion project. I was about 15 years old when they finally finished it all.” Virgil looked over to Roman, his eyes filled with a gentle excitement. “It’s been our own little retreat ever since then! I can’t count how many times me and Logan came here to help work or even after it was done. This place means a lot to me.” He clapped Roman on the back, smiling delightfully. “I’m glad you came, Princey!” Virgil then pushed him over into the warm sand. “That’s enough cheese for today I think!! Race ya to the rope swing, theater dork!!” Virgil took off toward the dock and Roman, for once, was glad he had pushed him over and ran away. 

  Roman’s face and chest was ablaze. The way that Virgil seemed to treasure this place, wanting to share it with Roman, it made him unbelievably happy. The way the pale boy’s eyes sparkled and the way his usually lazy smile was bright and bold, it sent his heart aflutter.

  “You fiend!!” Roman accused, scrambling up to his feet. “That’s not fair!!” He charged after Virgil’s dark hair, hoping to leave his dangerously growing adoration behind in the sand.

  They took turns swinging off the rope swing and shoving one another into the water, splashing about in it’s cool waves a welcome sensation against the heat of the sun. Lunch finally came and they chatted and joked and told swapped stories until Logan declared that it was time they all headed back.

  “Actually, Logan? Can I talk to you for a bit?” Virgil asked as they were packing up.

  Logan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Of course. Patton, Roman, you two can go on ahead of us. We will catch up to you later.”

  “Sure thing, honey!!” Patton said cheerily, wrapping his arm around Roman’s shoulders, though because of the height difference, mistakenly pulled Roman down a bit in the process.

  They chatted a bit until the subject of Virgil managed to come up.

  “Virgil?” Roman asked, the thought of the green eyed man making him flush. When had that started happening? “I mean he’s great of course…I mean more than great honestly. Have you ever noticed how perfect his hair always looks, Pat? Or like how pretty he is just…everywhere? It’s infuriating!!” Roman looked over to his short friend. “Right, Pat….? Uhh…”

  Patton wore a shiteating grin on his face as he smirked smugly at Roman. “I knew it!” Patton declared. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!!”

  Roman’s face flared and his heart started to beat. “Knew w-what?! What did you know?!”

  Patton jabbed a finger at Roman’s chest. “You’re in love with Virgil!!” He announced, his grin growing more and more excited and mischievous by the second, his golden eyes sparkling more and more from under his wide, round frames. “Aren’t you?!”

  Had Roman been a balloon, he would have burst. His face was undoubtedly the color of a rose and his heart was beating far too loud for Patton not to hear it, he thought. Roman finally caved, giving a sigh. “Listen, it’s not really my fault I fell in love with him!! HE WAS SHIRTLESS!!”

  Patton danced around the path way, spinning and chanting, “YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH VIRGIL!! YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH VIRGIL!!”

  “Okay okay!! I’m in love with Virgil!! Now will you quiet down! What if they’re about to catch up?!” Roman said, mild panic pricking his heart.

  “So what if they hear us?!” Patton stopped his dancing, facing Roman. “I mean Virgil’s already been in love with you for years now!!” Patton said excitedly, waving his hand as if it was common knowledge.

  Roman’s life could have ended then and there. “He what-?”

  Patton’s smiling face didn’t falter as extreme panic set his eyes ablaze. “Shit!!” He said in the most cheery tone a person has ever used to say shit. In fact, Roman could only count on two other times he’d even heard Patton curse. “You were not supposed to know that!!” Patton continued with his cheery voice.

  Roman grabbed Patton by the shoulders, emotions swirling violently within him. “Virgil’s been in love with me for years?!” He asked, ecstatic panic dripping from his voice and flooding his eyes.

  Patton’s smile did falter this time as he looked away, bashful at what he’d let slip. “Well, yeah…He never-”

  Roman picked up the small boy and spun him around, laughing splendidly. “Patton!! You’re an angel from heaven!!” He bubbled. He set Patton down and hugged him tightly. A thought struck him and he separated from the small boy, not even having heard the blonde’s shouts announcing he couldn’t breath. “Oh god! I have to tell Virgil! I have to go find him!!” 

  Roman started to run away, but Patton grabbed his sleeve. “But what should I do?! We were supposed to get the fire going and dinner started! It’s beginning to get dark!”

  Roman looked at Patton with desperate eyes. “I just realized how I feel about Virgil. I don’t want this to turn into a pining competition! I have to find him right now!”

  Something in Roman’s voice must have convinced Patton because he let go. “Alright.” He lightly tapped his fist against his taller friend’s shoulder. “Go sweep him off his feet, Ro!”

  And with that, Roman was off sprinting back down the trail.

  He caught sight of Virgil and Logan walking down the path as the trail was beginning to darken with purple under the canopy of trees in the soon to be dying sunlight. Roman smiled and waved to them down the trail.

  “Roman?” Virgil asked, a concerned and mildly frightened look glazing his eyes over. “Is everything okay? Did something happen? Where’s Patton? Is he alright? Is-”

  Roman swooped Virgil into a spinning hug, not letting the boy finish his anxious rambling. “Oh, everything is more than just alright, my dark and stormy knight!” Roam laughed, holding on to his heart from around his waist, grasping him close.

  Virgil’s face lit up with splashes of red and pink. “Uhm…?”

  Logan looked between the two and smiled. “I’ll go on ahead and make sure Patton has some company.” He said, picking up Virgil’s discarded bag and turning to walk down the darkening trail.

  Roman stopped spinning Virgil and let the green eyed man down, only just loosening his hold on him.

  But to Roman’s utter dismay, as soon as Logan was out of sight, Virgil pushed out from Roman’s grasp. “What the hell, Ro? What was that?” He snapped, turning away from the taller boy.

  Roman’s hopes sunk. Had Patton lied to him? No…Patton said he wasn’t even supposed to tell. It had to be true.

  But Roman had to be sure. “Virgil, do you love me?” Fireflies were starting to swirl around them, lighting up like stray stars.

  “What…?” Virgil stopped, looking back at Roman.

  Roman stepped closer, beginning to realize how desperately he wanted Virgil to love him. “Are you in love with me, Virgil?”

  Virgil looked away, crossing his arms over themselves.

  The sounds of the forest settled between them.

  Finally Virgil spoke, his voice shaky and choked. “S-so what if I am? I mean- I didn’t mean to- I don’t-” Virgil turned back to face Roman, his hands embedded in his head of thick, messy hair, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I assume Patton spilled…And I just didn’t want to tell you cause I didn’t want to lose you as a friend! I know you don’t feel the same way, so I was trying to be a good friend…I’m sorry if-”

  “Goodnight my prince. I’ll love you tomorrow.” Roman quoted.

  “W-what?”

  “Last night. That’s what you said before you went to sleep. Can I ask why?” Roman stepped closer, the sun beginning to descend beyond view.

  Virgil was caught between paling and flushing harder. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s the stupidest thing ever…” He started, though smiling. “Anytime we ever had a sleepover, or you fell asleep studying at my place or during a movie night, I’d say that. It was supposed to be this stupid ‘I can’t love you now, so I’ll love you tomorrow’ thing…Hella cheesy, I know…”

  Roman stepped closer again and brushed Virgil’s hand, though the pale boy flinched it back. “Well remember when you said not to fall for you and I said it wouldn’t be a problem?” he stepped closer still, bringing his hand up to Virgil’s chin.

  “Yeah…?” Virgil didn’t pull away this time, though his eyes remained glued to Roman’s chest.

  Roman tilted his chin upward, looking into the gorgeous green eyes Roman never knew he’d fallen for. “Well I think I have a problem…” He leaned in even closer, and he swear he could almost hear Virgil’s heart. 

  Before Roman could try and capture his lips with his own, Virgil leaned forward and closed the distance himself.

  Roman melted into the kiss and could have sworn he tasted raspberries on Virgil’s breath. Virgil’s arms found themselves draped over Roman’s shoulders and his fingers played in his hair as Roman drew Virgil closer still, never wanting to let go of the person he’d loved so dearly for years, blind to it as denial had taken hold of him.

  And it was all over much too quickly as Virgil pulled apart just enough to speak. “I think it’s finally tomorrow…” He said, breathlessly, his eyes traveling from Roman’s chest up to his golden brown eyes.

  Roman smiled and rested his forehead against Virgil’s. “I think I like tomorrow…!” He caught Virgil up in another kiss and the two blissfully fell into one another.

  And Roman decided he quite liked camping, after all.

To my anon, you are never ever ever a burden!! I love writing! And as you can see, got a little carried away with this one! I really hope it’s something you like!!

[stilesloverdaily]

I Promise

Shawn Mendes x Reader

Words: 2.1k

Note: basically he made a promise and he will deliver it no matter how long it takes. fluff.

Walking to school was a normal occurrence for you. Monday through to Friday, you walked to school; a mundane walk until you met up with Shawn. Aka. Your Best Friend.

As soon as he arrived with his morning enthusiasm and charming smile, a gloomy walk to school became one filled with life and it truly was the light of the day. No matter what happened.

It was a Wednesday morning, when a giant figure came up next to you and bumped your shoulder with his arm. Although it interrupts your Coldplay, you take out an earphone and greet the boy next to you. His eyes reflecting the morning sun, causing his golden brown orbs to shine brighter than when he smiles.

“Turn that frown upside down, cause Shawn Mendes has graced your presence!” He hollered, with joy.

Rolling your eyes, he had turned an old couples attention, whom smiled your way. “Hey, Shawnie Shawn.” You chuckled, referring to one of your favourite movies, Fired Up!

“Before you ask, yes, it is lonely down that road.” He deadpans, clearly amused. “How are you?”

Shrugging, you replied, “Eh. I finished the homework for Mr. Mason’s class, last night.”

“Cool. What’d you get for 8?”

“Robber Baron.”

“Same.” He smiled. “Aaliyah and I were playing Call of Duty last night, which is about how I’ve been.”

Without a breath, you immediately said it. “Mission failed. We’ll get em next time.” Shawn laughed.

A comfortable silence fell on the both of you as you shortcutted through the park, as per usual. Frost had taken over the grass, slush on the side of the walkway, a classic late autumn Canadian day. The thought brought a shiver down your spine, your love for winter eliciting an exciting feeling.

“You cold?” Not waiting for a response, Shawn grabbed his bag from his shoulder, swinging it round. Once he opened it, he brought out a light blue zip up jacket, handing it to you as he swung the bag back around. Gladly taking it as the short sleeve shirt you were wearing wasn’t cutting, even though the weather said it was going to be warmer. “When I get my license, I’m driving us to and from school everyday.” Shawn said matter-of-factly. 

“Is that right?” He hummed. “What about a car? Or money to buy it? Or to get gas?”

He shook his head with a lazy smile, “Well, Negative Nancy, when I’m rich and famous, I’ll have all the money.”

“Won’t you be touring the world? Meaning you can’t take me to school…” the thought set in.

Shawn was an amazing singer and with his Vines, he’d get found any day now. He had talent and the looks for it, as well as a positive personality. Even through his anxiety, he always got up and sang his heart out or played it on the piano or guitar. He would tour the world, whilst you probably worked a dead end job, just to pay for college. 

Shawn sighs as he looks to you, “Y/N, that will never happen because I’ll never forget about you. I will take you, I promise.” He held out his pinky. “Pinky promise.”

You wrapped your pinky around his large one, a fuzzy feeling running up your arm as you did so. “With a thumb stamp?” It was your thing, meaning that you’d rather jump off a bridge than break that promise. He extended his thumb, you doing the same, both pressing the thumb pads against each other.

“I promise.”

With that, you two lowered your hands, however kept them holding each other’s. You trusted him with your life. So, once the promise was decided on, you kept walking and talked about random things.

-

3 years later (Senior Year)

Waking up, you smiled and grabbed your phone to turn off the alarm you set. It was officially the last day of school before graduation and you planned to go about today like any other, just more relaxed.

After showering and changing, you grabbed your bag; filled with your usual pencil case, a notepad in case you wanted to doodle and other essentials for the last day of high school.

Next to your bag was your dresser, which had your photo frame of yourself and Shawn. He never did get to complete that promise as he got found sooner than he thought. He never drove you to school, I mean, you drive yourself to school now.

No matter, you were proud either way. Life happens, no matter if he pinky promises with a thumb stamped on it. Did it break your heart a little? Yeah. Was it the end of the world? No.

You both went on your separate ways, you continuing with school and him, an international pop star. Both of you followed the other on instagram and texted every now and then, but in all honesty the time zones made it difficult, as he was travelling so much.

When he was in town though, you’d see each other, make the effort to go to a party here and there or just meet up and watch The Big Bang Theory.

Shrugging it off, you made your way to the kitchen to grab breakfast, eggs on toast. As you were about to sit down, your mom piped up with a smile, “I don’t think you have time to eat. Your ride will be here soon.”

Raising a brow in question, you responded, “What?” out of pure confusion.

Next thing you know, there was a knock at the door, turning your gaze to the front door, then back to your mother in serious confusion. She gestured her head to the door with her smile still plastered on your face.

You stood up, slowly walking to the door, when another knock was heard. As you made your way towards it, you tried to come up with an idea as to why and who was here at this time in the morning. Your dad lived with his other family in Alberta and your best friend, Georgia had left for holiday yesterday. Beside your mother, there was no one else who would really be here at this time.

Placing your hand on the door handle, you opened it. In front of you was the 6”2, slightly tanned man with brown curly locks atop his head, and a wide smile on his face when he saw you.

A grin plastered on your face as you jumped into his arms with a squeal, you hadn’t seen him since your birthday in April which was a couple months ago. He chuckled, before he put you down and smiled at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Europe?” you gleamed.

He chuckled again, running his hand through his brown locks, “I have a promise to keep.”

You looked at him quizzically, running things through your head, getting the gears to turn inside your head. “What promise?”

He looked to his feet, his smile never fading, before his brown eyes glanced into your eyes. “Well, grab your bag as I, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes will be driving you to school this morning.” You smiled at him widely.

“It’s the last day, Shawn.”

“Exactly. Meaning I didn’t screw up my promise.” He said matter-of-factly. “And I never go back on those. Especially for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, you don’t know exactly why but him saying that comforted you.

“Okay.” Walking back into the house, you grabbed your bag. “Alright, see ya later mom.” You left the house, walking to Shawn’s car. Hopping in, you were thrown back from when he took you out for your birthday for dinner then came back to your house to surprise you with a party at your house. He also got in his side as you were strapping in, you giggled out of nowhere at the thought of him taking you to school.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I never imagined you to take me to school.”

He shook his head with a smile as he started the car up, pulling away from your house. You had always felt warm with him, his presence eliciting a flurry of warmth through your body; in turn causing you to shiver. “You cold?” Shawn gave you a glance from the road, a curious one as it was indeed the middle of summer.

You shook your head with a brief smile, “No, just someone walking over my grave.” Shawn nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering a few more seconds than necessary before turning back to the road.

His hand that rested on the automatic gear shift, moved to your seat next to your leg, Shawn’s pinkie grazing your thigh. Your breath hitched slightly, heart rate picking up. It reminded you of the pinkie promise he made to drive you school.

The school was a fifteen minute journey from your house, meaning the ride was to be short.

As the Shawn you always knew and loved always did, he was humming to the radio, which you joined in to. Your voice no comparison to his, but he said he always liked it. Crawl by Not My Weekend was on, and you smiled slightly to yourself as it kind of reminded you of him.

You knew you felt slightly more than just friendly feelings towards him, your relationship being only platonic for both of you. However, you thought the song related to your not-so-platonic feelings for him and your feelings towards his girlfriend Camila. 

“How’s Camila?”

You’d met her once, she wasn’t your favourite person, but not the worst overall. You’d met on your birthday, when Shawn introduced the two of you at the party, she was slightly rude, but in all honesty, most of Shawn’s girlfriends felt that way as they always perceived your friendship with Shawn - a threat.

“Good.” He answered shortly, his smile fading slightly. You rose a brow at his behaviour, which he noticed in his peripheral. Sighing, he continued. “We broke up.”

You didn’t hide the look of shock on your face, on your birthday they were clung together at the party. However, you and Shawn spent a lot of the night talking, because it was your birthday, but Camila was there always.

You admit that at first it seemed the relation seemed fake, a stunt from his record company, but when you saw her at the party, it must be serious. “I’m sorry, why didn’t you tell me?” He usually told you about the other break ups and you with him.

“Mainly for the reason behind it.”

“Which was?”

His breath hitched, “You.”

“What?”

He shook his head with a smile, “She didn’t like how close we were.” Lie.

“Shawn, I haven’t seen you in like three months.” You turned to him, causing his hand to move back to the shifter. “What’s the real reason?”

He pulled up into your school parking lot, turned the car off with a sigh. “‘Cause I’ve been in love with you since we were younger.” His head turned to you, his brown locks flopping a little.

You were stunned, he felt more than friendly feelings too? Why was he bringing this up now? Shawn had a few girlfriends in the time you’ve known him. “Really?”

He inhaled, “Yeah.” He exhaled.

You didn’t know how to respond, sure you had those feelings for a long time, you could say that or that you also feel the same towards him but no. You leaned forward over the center console and kissed him, he leaned over and kissed back.

Your hands went to the back of his neck and ran through his curls, as the kiss got a bit more passionate. Shawn’s hands rested on your jaw and waist.His tongue teasing your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you happily obliged. He went to move you on his lap, and you were low key happy too, but your butt hit the wheel and the car honked.

It was good that no one was to be seen in the parking lot as homeroom began a minute or so ago. But, the honk separated the two of you. You both were panting as the kiss got a bit ahead of itself, his hazel eyes glanced at you eyes with a glint of something you’d never personally seen on him, or that you’d noticed. Shawn’s smile was wide and yours wasn’t faltering either.

“I um...better get to homeroom…” You broke the silence.

Shawn nodded, with a cough. “Uh, yeah.” You grabbed your bag and went to open the door when he stopped you by saying, “Unless, you wanna make out a little longer?”

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out, “Well I wouldn’t mind but I don’t wanna mess up my perfect attendance, now would I?” He pouted and you let out a huff. “School finishes early today, at lunch. We can make out in the car then, or talk more about that kiss.” At that you got out and shut the door, walking away.

Shawn rolled down the window of your side, “Can’t wait!”

tagged: @itsnolongerteen​ @justsomewritingsandshit​

[tiny-smallest]

warm summer nights

Rating: G Characters: Greg, Steven, Danny Fenton Warnings: none Description: Greg Universe is a lot of things- former semi-famous rockstar, musician, adviser, small business owner, best friend- but he is first and foremost a father.

But there were other things that made up his identity, things that hurt to remember and were usually easy to forget- until the day an incident on the beach and the appearance of a strange child in town sent both his fatherly senses and some old instincts screaming alarms in his head.

Also on AO3!

—

I thought this would be appropriate to post on the day that happens to be both one week after we said goodbye to Steven and the Dannyapocalypse. Like c’mon how perfect is that.

I started this in February back when I assumed we weren’t getting the end of Future until probably summertime. Parts have been rewritten or tweaked to accommodate the ending. Therefore there are SPOILERS in here for the latter half of Steven Universe Future (it is set between I Am My Monster and The Future) so do be aware of that. And also just be aware in general cause I’m sick of looking at this and details are blurring so if a detail or two seems off it’s because I didn’t catch it skljdfn

Enjoy!

—

Beautiful, blue, bejeweled.

This was one of the best things about living in Beach City. In this little town that was probably more of a village and definitely not a city, when the night was clear, as long as you weren’t standing smack in the middle of town where the lights would be brightest, Greg could see more stars than humanity could probably ever hope to visit. The fact that Beach City was very much a rural town helped immensely, too. No Empire City to smog up the skies from nearby.

Just the ocean waves and the twinkling expanse above, and his son’s house off to the side, the statue overhead serene and silent. You could write a song to a scene like this. Greg was trying, plucking idly at guitar strings, counting syllables in his head, matching words and chords. It wasn’t a serious project. More like a doodle of a song. Simple, short, maybe a little messy. Perfection wasn’t a requirement; just a bonus if it happened to happen.

He couldn’t say for sure whether or not Steven was in bed. Sure, he hadn’t heard anything, and Steven was sleeping much better these days, but Steven was also a teenager. Even at the best of times their inner clocks could be wonky. He sure remembered that. And it was a beautiful night; warm and breezy, calm and quiet.

So when he spotted a humanoid shape in the sky that lacked wings, he didn’t think much on it at first. Steven was seventeen, he reminded the nervous fatherly instincts pricking up. And Steven was seventeen and capable. If the boy wanted to go for a walk or hang in the sky for awhile, that was his business, and if it was because Steven was troubled, then Steven knew to also make it Greg’s business, if he wanted to.

Still, maybe he would pop by tomorrow morning with breakfast sandwiches. Just in case. Just to see him first thing in the morning.

Easy, Universe. Breathe. The air went in his lungs. The air flowed out.

He picked at the guitar again, but his eyes always somehow strayed back to the figure in the sky.

The first time Greg realized something might be off came when he realized the shape silhouetted against the stars was all wrong to be Steven. The body was too skinny- scrawny, even, and there was no sign of descent at all. Steven couldn’t hold his position. He could only slow his descent. Steven should have landed on the beach by now, if it was really him.

Unease bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He squinted, but whatever was out there was too far away for features to be discernible. Greg didn’t have binoculars.

Maybe he should go use that telescope…?

But it was probably just a gem, right? Right?

What was he supposed to do? Shout at them? They’d probably hear him from this far away…

Five dark bruises, long since faded, and the memory of what the house’s deck looked like from upside down, twenty feet in the air was what made him unsure if he liked that fact. It was definitely too tall to be Bluebird, though, and there were no wings present, so there was at least that comfort.

Not that there was much comfort at all. Who said Bluebird might not have friends? Sure, she was an obnoxious little goblin, but Greg knew there were other gems who hated his son and, apparently, that was a hell of a unifier in the gem world. I have no more hair to cut to get away if this is someone else who wants to try using me against Steven.

They hadn’t heard his quiet guitar playing, at least, and if they’d taken notice of the van on the beach, there was no movement to do anything about it.

Still.

He moved to strum the guitar, but his trembling fingers thought the better of it last second without any real thought and caressed the side of the fingerboard. Maybe he should call Pearl? He should probably call Pearl.

As he reached for his phone, a breeze blowing through the van made him shudder. Jeez, when did it get so cold? Why was it so cold! It was May!

Something made a noise outside. He froze.

The world went still. Greg’s heart hammered in his chest, pounded in his head. He could feel it beating in his ears.

A loud, wet thunk hit the window, slid down it. Greg raised his head just slightly and felt his heart somersault in his chest as the discolored, waterlogged hand slid down the window with a slow, wet squeak.

What. The fuck.

Greg was not a man who cursed liberally, years of raising a child to thank for that, but if there had been any air left in his lungs he would have said the fuck word like it was his day job at the sight of the other hand that slapped itself against the window. Fingers curled in like claws against the glass and there was a wet gurgle.

A face pressed into the pane. Skin blue, mottled with green and what looked like rotting bits, eyes nearly white, long, tangled, hair of indiscernible color, matted with sand and seaweed.

Their eyes met.

Before Greg could utter a sound she let out a guttural noise and banged on the window. It took a moment for Greg to realize that the strangled yelp was coming from him as he scrambled to close the back doors, slamming them shut with an echoing bang.

She clawed at the door underneath the window she was still smashed up against, something close to a growl pouring from her mouth. In the next moment the pouring was literally, water flowing like some kind of demented faucet from her throat. Greg watched from inside the van, feeling the world all but fall away as the girl began to turn inside out, discolored flesh exposing dully pulsating organs, meat rearranging itself into a ghasty, kraken thing with a pulsating eye sitting right where he was pretty sure squids did not have eyes.

It shrieked, slamming an arm the sand by the van, missing the front by an inch. Greg shouted in pain and scrambled to right himself, trying to get the doors he’d just closed back open.

“Hey!”

He stopped fumbling with the doors for a moment, then redoubled his efforts even though he felt the beast move a little bit away from where it had him pinned down.

The doors blew open with a bang and he half fell out, gaping from the sand at the sight of the back of a boy, floating in the air, fists raising for a fight. The kraken looked down at him, roared, and tried to slam its arm into him, next.

But as it came down, the child was gone.

He zipped around–around, the boy was flying–and kicked the thing right upside the head, sending it sprawling a few feet, before throwing what looked like glowing green fire at it from both hands. It swerved to the side, barely avoiding the beam of green fire, and looked back as if to assess where its prey had gone.

The boy shot like a reverse shooting star into the air and took another dive, feet held out to slam into the thing, but it halted his descent with a tentacle and threw him back, charging forward to meet him.

And it went right through him.

As it turned around again, the boy held up another hand of green fire and made a motion Greg realized somewhere in his frozen mind was very familiar. Like throwing a frisbee, the child flung a disk of green flaming something at the creature and hit it right in the eye in the middle of its head.

It exploded.

In a gush of green goo, it exploded, the slime expelled upwards in a really gross fountain. The boy landed in the sand beside the creature as the rest of the body began to melt away, blinking in what could only be surprise as the goo seeped into the ground. He tilted his head, bent over slightly, one hand resting on his knee as he fought to catch his breath, and opened his mouth.

Then he started, blinked, and turned the rest of his head to more clearly see what he must have been seeing from the corner of his eye–Greg himself–letting go of gravity as he did.

The boy floated there, breathing heavily, eyes locked on Greg, hair moving slightly like it was underwater, eyes glowing faintly. The world held still. 

“Sorry about that,” he said softly, and as suddenly as he’d dove to Greg’s rescue, he was gone, the prints from his boots in the sand the only sign he’d ever existed at all.

A breeze blew across the beach. Greg wheezed out a gasp as his body remembered it needed to breathe.

He looked to the house. Undisturbed. Steven must be out after all.

He laid down in the back of the van. If he was more in his own head he might have immediately gotten up to go wait in the house.

But the world was tilting and his head full of cotton, so he didn’t do that.

But he did know one thing.

He was not sleeping until he knew his son was back safely in that house.

Hours. Minutes. Everything felt so quiet and so loud. He should call Steven. He should make sure he was safe.

But did any of that really just happen? Was this a nightmare? Was he just losing his mind? I started losing my hair early; maybe I’d start going senile early, too, floated lazily up in the swamp water that was his brain currently, and despite the concern he probably should have been feeling at that thought (when had he last gone to the doctor for literally anything?) he felt nothing.

Finally, in the predawn light painting the world gray and blue, Greg saw him. Steven approached from the left side of the van a little off in the distance and walked out of view. He thought he heard the screen door.

Steven was home. Steven was safe. Whatever happened, whatever dark thing had reached from beyond the void to touch this beach, it hadn’t touched Steven.

Steven was safe. Steven was safe. Steve was… safe… Steven… safe…

dear theodosia what to say to you

Sound. Light. That’s Steven. 

Also, reality. Reality and pain. Headache.

He blinked and squinted, morning sun clear and warm, the world scattered, fuzzed at the edges, just clear enough to be entirely unwelcome in how real it was. Ugh. Why did his head hurt so much? Felt like he’d run a marathon-

Wait.

Wait wait what what-? Hold up. Put freakout on hold. Steven. He grabbed for his phone, fumbling it in sweaty fingers. 10:07. No wonder everything hurt. He’d slept maybe five hours, if that.

His eyes flicked from his phone to the sand as he thumbed over the screen to receive the call.

The van was parked far enough from the beginning of the beach for footprints to not leave indiscernible holes in the sand, but they weren’t close enough to the surf for the tide to wash everything away. But it had been windy.

There were marks, but had they come from feet? He couldn’t tell. He honestly couldn’t tell. God.

“Dad?”

“Hi, Stchu-ball,” he said aloud with a numb mouth and a number mind. Right. Think. Wake up, brain. Focus. He wanted to get breakfast for him.

“Hi Dad! Just got up; I was wondering if you wanted to join us for breakfast? Or, well, me; the others have to run to go do Little Homeschool stuff.”

“Yeah, sure buddy,” he managed. “My treat?”

“You sure? I can cook-”

Something firm and determined pushed him forward. “No, that’s fine. I’ve been meaning to try some of those breakfast sandwiches from Arianna’s, anyway.”

“Well… okay, if you’re sure.” The smile in his voice was warm. He wished he could return it.

“Yeah, I’m sure. See you in a few?”

“See you in a few.”

They hung up. He swallowed and climbed into the front seat to start the van, ignoring the good morning text from Pearl with only a slight pang of guilt. Might as well get breakfast and practice smiling. He was going to need it.

——-

The second Steven saw him, Greg knew the smile he’d pasted on before the door opened was too plastic.

The bright, sunny grin on Steven’s face drooped, eyes quickly flicking up and down his father’s form. Damn it. He hadn’t changed his clothes from yesterday, that’s right. There was nothing he could probably do about the dark circles he bet he had under his eyes but he should have changed his clothes at least.

Please don’t comment on it. Just let it go by.

“Your sandwiches, Mr. Universe,” Greg said, some distant part of him relieved that the silly, over-the-top voice came out and came out right. He gave his son a little bow as he presented the bag.

A giggle. “Please,” Steven replied in an equally silly voice. “Call me Steven. Mr. Universe is my father’s name.” The weight of the bag disappeared from Greg’s hand and he righted himself, wincing just slightly as one knee complained. The bag rustled, Steven stepping back inside the house. “My highly esteemed, very talented, charming father and oh my god is that an omelette? Is that an egg and mushroom breakfast sandwich? I’m throwing ‘amazing’ on that list I think.”

He snorted as he followed Steven inside. “You flatterer you.”

“Flattery has nothing to do with food that smells amazing. That you brought me,” Steven said as he set the bag on the counter and withdrew the plastic containers. Something inside Greg’s chest loosened at the absolutely ridiculous goofy face his son was making. They’d better dig in before the boy started drooling.

“All right, all right. I’ll take some of those compliments,” he laughed as he held his hands up in defeat, approaching the table. “Even though all I did was place an order.”

“For the right things,” Steven chirped as he reached into the cabinet to pull out plates. “Very much the right things. Stars that smells good.”

“Well, what can I say? We Universes have very… refined pallets.” Greg took the containers over to the table, Steven following with the plates.

Now it was Steven’s turn to snort. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Hey, remember that night in Empire City? I am a man of taste.”

“The classiest,” Steven agreed, a touch of warmth to the banter. Greg chuckled and ruffled his hair.

The boy moved to take a seat before pausing, looking to his father. “Hey, what are we doing? It’s a nice day! Let’s eat outside?”

Inwardly he quailed a little. He’d really rather not look at the beach today, if he were being honest.

But that earnest expression? How could he ever say no to it? Especially when it was asking something totally reasonable of him. “Sure, kiddo.”

He picked up the containers and Steven carried the plates, the door opening with the usual light creak of hinges moving. Steven sat on the steps with a sigh, stretching his legs and then scooting over to make room for his father. Greg sat beside him.

“So um… I was wondering…”

Greg turned his head. “Mm?”

Steven’s eyes were lowered, foot tapping against the step below. “… Are you feeling okay?”

Ah geez. “What do you mean, Schtu-ball?”

“Uh, well, you look kinda- really tired today, and I dunno-” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering, like, did you sleep okay? Do you- maybe need to talk about something or…? Because I know, I know you’ll say it’s not my job, but you’re my dad, and well, I just- I love you a whole lot and even if you don’t wanna talk about it I’d just- just like to make sure you’re all right.”

Oh, Steven.

He stared at his son, this sweet, brave, beautiful boy that he could barely believe came from his own dna, and leaned down to press a kiss into his hair.

“Dad?” He leaned back to find confused eyes that were rapidly becoming worried. Small wonder. Greg gave his son kisses all the time growing up, but they’d tapered off the past couple years out of respect for Steven’s slowly emerging adulthood and the determination that his son would never, ever feel patronized by him.

He only gave in a few times, and considering the ones he could remember were Steven being abducted to space, the second time his son was abducted to space, and Steven returning from saving them all from certain, eventual destruction at the hand of space dictators?

Yeah, he could see why he’d be concerned.

“It’s nothing,” he promised, smoothing back Steven’s hair a little. “Just… Had weird dreams last night. I’m very glad you’re here.”

“… You- could talk about them? If you wanted to,” Steven ventured. The powerful affection swelled even more and he gave him another kiss, on his forehead.

“Nah, they weren’t that bad. Nothing your old man can’t handle. Besides, you don’t need to fight them for me.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t mean to brag-” the worried knot in his forehead hadn’t quite left despite the grin he flashed at Greg- “but I’m quite the dream warrior. Just ask Kiki!”

“Kiki?” Oh, right, the pizza nightmare nonsense. “You sure are, but you don’t have to be responsible for everyone’s sleep, kiddo. Just yours.” He ruffled his hair. “But hey- if there was something we could learn from this, I’d tell you. But there isn’t really. It was just weird and uncomfortable. Not even really a nightmare.”

“Oh.” He made a face. “Those suck.”

“They do,” Greg agreed, reaching for a sandwich.

Maybe it had been a dream, somehow.

——-

It was a few days later that the next oddity happened.

Just enough time for Greg to maybe consider that what happened on the beach was some weird sort of hallucination- or maybe something less severe than what that implied, maybe just a scary dream. A really, messed up, unsettling dream. He wasn’t sure if he ate anything before falling asleep (he was pretty sure he didn’t) but mark that down as something to never do again before bed, just in case.

He just really wish he didn’t remember that kid’s face as well as he did, or that… thing.

But it was fine! Greg was fine. It was probably just a nightmare, and nothing happened. Nobody got eaten the next day when they went in the water. No reports of missing persons. It was fine. He played guitar, hung out at his car wash, washed a couple cars, spent time playing music with Steven and Pearl, pacified Peridot’s twenty questions when she and Lapis dropped by town to visit, introduced Garnet to a new band, cooked a dinner with Steven, and even took a long walk down the beach with Pearl, chatting about anything and everything. 

As always, the talk eventually turned to the townies, and what they were up to.

“It’s so odd,” Pearl mused. “I didn’t know we could even get raccoons around here.”

“Yep. They don’t usually come into town, but there’s plenty of them in the forest. Them and their weird tiny people hands.”

Pearl made a face. “Oh- that doesn’t sound- very nice.”

Greg chuckled. “They’re mostly harmless. It’s just really startling to be sleeping and suddenly feel tiny hands just like yours touching you.”

“Oh no, they haven’t done that to you!?” She looked so scandalized Greg almost laughed.

“Oh yes they have! But not in town. Happened a few years back when I took Steven camping in the woods.”

“Well that’s awful rude of them,” she huffed.

“Nah, cut them a break. We were intruders on their home, after all. They were just curious. Also they don’t understand decorum like we do.”

“Fair,” she sighed. “Still, they must be capable of some form of human-like reasoning.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Pearl was an incredibly sharp person, but 5000 some years of refusing to properly interact with humans left her woefully unaware of a lot of things about the planet she lived on. Sometimes hearing her reasoning was downright hilarious. She certainly was a creative one.

“Well,” she started with all the innocence and assuredness of a small child about to explain a logic only they could understand, “The Frys and the Pizzas are the only ones it seems to bother.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If it’s really here for food, why does it only get into their garbage? Why not other people’s? Food is food and organics need to consume it, so logically shouldn’t it just go anywhere?” A pause. “Why, if it’s coming from the woods, it’s going out of its way to get to their trash, even! Fish Stew Pizza and Beach Citywalk Fries are all the way down the block from the forest.”

Huh. She had a point. “Who knows? Animals are weird. There’s a reason we still study them, after all.”

She clucked her tongue. “I suppose we’ll never truly know until we catch them in the act.”

They only get into the Frys’ and the Pizzas’ garbage.

He wish he’d paid more attention to that little tidbit than he did.

——-

Three days after that conversation, four after that nighttime beach dream, standing in Fish Stew Pizza at the counter, waiting for Kiki to finish his order, he saw him.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement from out the open window and, as humans were wont to do when something moved in their peripherals, he turned his head, not expecting to find much. This was one of the more popular spots of Beach City. People weren’t super uncommon, especially with the gems hanging around the city now.

What was uncommon, what was odd, was the sight of a new face, hanging around by the garbage– a teenager, with messy black hair and a t-shirt and jeans. Greg blinked in surprise, but any curiosity he might have felt evaporated as he watched the hunched up teenager glance, and not very inconspicuously, left, then right-

And then grabbed the little paper container containing a half-eaten thing of fries right from where it was perched on top of the rest of the trash, sliding over with guilty, shameful stumbling to the bench beside the garbage can. He shoved his hand into the bag and dug out a fistful of fries.

Greg froze. For a moment, all he could see was white hair, glowing in the moonlight, floating slightly in the air, topping a face that was a bit too thin. Something familiar-

Not the only thing familiar. At the same time he remembered walking by that same can, hunched over with shame and hunger, chewing the inside of his cheek, worries swirling, Rose oblivious thank god-

Sitting on the boardwalk with a hungrily suckling baby kicking the bottle, staring at the food places he couldn’t afford to order from because that crib had cost way more than he’d anticipated, stomach complaining with a hollow, gnawing pain-

Trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks as he counted up nickels and dimes for Kofi, grateful for his patience but feeling anxiety draw its claws along the inside of his head, wondering how long that patience would last when there was a line behind him-

“Mr. Universe?”

“U-um-” Trying to stuff his brain back into his head, he turned to look back to Kiki, whose face was lined with concern. Right. Pizza. “Oh, uh, thanks Kiki. This’ll- uh, make great leftovers." 

"Well… I always thought cold pizza was yucky but hey, it’s your food, not mine.” She returned his weak smile and ducked back into the kitchen. He picked up the box, gears whirring as he stepped outside and approached the bench.

As his shadow fell over the teenager, the boy glanced up from where he was trying to peer into the clearly-empty box, eyes that looked too big for his head watching him warily. They were a startling shade of baby blue and it almost wrecked Greg’s concentration. Almost.

“Hey there!” he smiled at the boy. “Today’s your lucky day! I’ve started doing a 'one nice thing a day’ resolution– you know, spread some goodwill and all throughout the whole year, not just at the holidays– and you’re today’s winner! Have a pizza.”

He held the box out to him. One eyebrow quirked up, but the slightly shaking hands did accept the box.

“… And you didn’t put anything weird in it.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t quite a statement either, brushing instead somewhere lightly against an accusation, especially with the pointing finger at the box now sitting on his lap.

“On my honor as a musician,” he promised, raising one hand, putting on his best overdramatic voice. There was a brief spark of amusement in the boy’s eyes. Greg took the minute of lowered guard to give him a quick scan.

Messy black hair he’d seen from the shop, but closer now, he could tell there was a very slight greasy quality to it, exacerbated by the lack of brushing. His frame and his face were a bit too thin, elbows poking out a bit more noticeably than they should have been, cheekbones a touch too sharp. There was a hole in one of the knees of his jeans, and given the dirt smeared on the pants, it didn’t look like fashion.

“Yeah, well… thanks, I guess.” He was still suspicious. Understandable. Greg knew what it looked like, a grown man approaching a lone boy he had no relation to with free food. He didn’t begrudge the kid the wary gaze still honed in on him with laser focus. “I’m staying right here.”

“Never said you had to go anywhere,” Greg said, backing away this time with both hands raised. “Enjoy your lunch, kiddo.”

He turned and went right back into the pizza shop, hailing Kiki down again.

“Yeah, Mr. U?”

“You see that kid outside?” he asked softly. Her head turned with his in time to watch the boy tear the pizza box open, rip out a slice, and begin to hork it down. She nodded, her face a wince of sympathy.

“Yeah.”

“Tell him he can get a free pizza a day, okay? I’ll pay for it, but don’t credit me. Let him think whatever, just as long as he knows he can get something to eat here.”

“Awfully sweet of you,” she said with a little smile. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Should we get ahold of his parents or…?”

Something twisted uncomfortably in his gut. “No. He might recoil if we’re too obvious about helping. If his family needs food, he’ll take the pizza home.”

“Well, looks like they must be having dinner tonight. Sure hope he doesn’t eat that whole thing by himself right now, though.” They resisted the urge to check. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Mr. Universe. Can’t leave the shop, but as long as he’s hanging around outside, I don’t mind watching him.”

“Maybe try to keep your dad or Mayor Nanefua from hovering too close?” He forced an awkward chuckle. “I remember what it’s like, being that age. He’ll just get embarrassed and shut down. Free pizza won’t do him much good if he won’t come to claim it.”

“Don’t worry Mr. U; I got this.” She winked at him. He tried to let it comfort him, and smiled back.

The boy was still tearing apart the pizza when he stepped outside. Resisting the urge to check on him again, he walked away.

He went to find Steven, lunch forgotten, and made sure to give his son a great big hug.

“Dad?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to give you a hug.”

If he had his way, it would have been for the rest of forever.

——-

He’d almost convinced himself by the time a week had passed that the white-haired floating kid from the beach was a bad dream, or maybe even some kind of… weird, residual Future Sight rubbing off on him.

Could that even happen? Greg was sure around magic stuff often enough for something weird to pop up, right? He was tempted to as Garnet about it, but the urge to keep quiet about this wouldn’t go away. Especially since he wasn’t sure that he could trust Garnet to keep this between them- not when she shared almost everything with the other gems now, not when they were finally feeling something like a family unit after all the years they wasted being distant and combative with one another. Garnet was nothing if not protective, and he knew the implication he’d started seeing things might concern her into consulting the others. Maybe even consulting other humans, given that he was pretty sure she knew little about human biology and how brains and bodies connected.

Or she could take it to be a literal, physical threat and sound the alarm. That felt likely, too. Extremely likely. He thought of the way she very carefully shadowed Steven in the months following his meltdown, and winced. Yeah. That would be a bad idea.

Especially if this was all just absolutely nothing.   God, the last thing he’d want to do is alarm Steven for absolutely nothing.

He locked up the car wash at around dusk, checking his phone as he walked his way down the street towards the beach. Steven would probably be starting to cut the vegetables, and if he hurried, he’d get there before he was ready to toss the salad and reheat the sauce from three days ago. He might even be in time to help Steven dice, actually.

As he reached the street that became the giant back area of The Big Donut, he heard it.

The sound of metal rattling.

Greg froze, looking up from his phone, staring down the block. Boardwalk Street saw the back of several stores and featured two small parking lots, indents in the street that hid the actual backs of the stores from sight- not helped by how far back Shirts 4 You extended.

A memory floated. Raccoons.

Well huh. He should. Probably look.

He stood there another minute before there was another rattle of metal and sighed, pressing his thumb into the power button of his phone to make it sleep and following the sound.

Is that… is that glowing?

He turned the corner of Shirts 4 You, staring across the little parking lot at the backs of the junky souvenir shop (the name of which he’d never bothered learning in the thirty some years he’d lived here), Fish Stew Pizza, and Beach Citywalk Fries.

And floating above the dumpster of the pizza place was-

The phone dropped to the concrete with a clatter and the white haired boy looked up from where he was reaching into the trash, green eyes locking with his.

For a second the world was still.

Then Greg blinked, and there was nothing there. How long he stood there he didn’t know, the buzzing of his phone the only thing to make it past the pounding in his ears. 

Numbly, he bent and picked up the phone.

Hey dad, where are you? You okay?

With trembling fingers he tapped out a message.

Fine, sorry kiddo. Customer took too long. Just got him to leave. Be right there.

He looked up. The dumpster lid was now back in place. The sound he made was barely human.

Greg shoved his phone in his pocket, turned, and left.

——-

“You’re really not slick, dude.”

Greg startled, nearly dropping the bag. He fumbled it embarrassingly, only just managing to catch it by one of the loops in the plastic. A deep sigh came from above him, and he lifted his burning face to look into the eyes of the unimpressed teenager sitting in the tree.

How did he even climb that high? It wasn’t a very sturdy tree. Just the tallest one in the park. The thought made his gut knot. Please get down from there.

“Why are you following me?” His thin shoulders hunched, face tight, fists clenching.

Well this was sure going the exact opposite way he wanted it to.

“I- uh… wanted to give you this,” he admitted in defeat, setting the plastic bag down at the base of the tree. “Thought you could use it.”

“I’m not getting down.” Greg heard the real meaning crystal clear. I’m not getting within grabbing distance. “Throw it up to me if you want me to see it that bad.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly heavy, but… “You… sure it won’t unbalance you?”

“Try me.” The barest hint of smugness amidst the defensive suspicion.

Huh. Welp. “Okay, sure.” If he fell, Greg knew a guy who could repair anything. Even if he had to cushion the kid’s fall with his own body there’d be no lasting harm with Steven around, not really, and insisting the kid come down was not worth risking the boy running off. He threw the bag up.

The teenager caught it in one hand with an ease that surprised him. Shifting slightly, likely to ensure his butt was securely on the branch, he dared to let go of the tree with his other hand to open the bag, a few brightly-colored plastic bottles and a loofa staring up at him. “… This is-”

“There’s a public shower over by the beach. The beach open to the public, I mean. It’s a much better place to clean up than the ocean and it really will help you feel loads better.” He pointed at the direction of the beach, resisting the urge to shield his eyes from the setting sun. “We really get barely any tourists compared to Ocean Town, but we get just enough that nobody will think twice about you using the facilities. It’s May, after all. This is when tourist season starts.”

The boy lowered the bag a little, eyebrows shooting to the sky. It made his eyes look even bigger and his confusion even more child-like. “… Why?”

“Uh- why do we have a tourist scene? Beats me. Beach City’s a nice place, but it’s tiny and has less stuff than-”

“No I mean- why?” He gestured to the plastic bag in his lap.

“Oh, that.” He shrugged, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “You look like you could use a little help.”

“And you just… decided to help.” His voice was flat with disbelief.

Greg blinked. For a second he could’ve sworn his eyes were green. 

Green. Green like-

Focus, Universe! 

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t want anything.”

“Nope.”

“… I’m not sure if I believe that.”

Shit, he’d probably turned down the pizza offer too, then.

“Listen I know it sounds… weird. And I didn’t want to butt in, so I won’t ask. But I can help without having to know every detail, so… well, why not?”

The kid tilted his head to the side, chewing on his lip a little.

“If you ever wanna talk, you can find me at the car wash.” He pointed. “Can’t miss it. Out of the park down this way to Boardwalk Street, take a left to Thayer Street, walk up the block. It’s at the base of the giant hill, only thing on that side of the street, right next to the ocean.”

“… Mmhm.” He wasn’t looking at him. Okay, fair.

“See you around?” He gave the teenager a wave.

As he turned to leave, he heard a soft “See you around.”

——-

“Um- is this seat taken?”

Greg glanced up in surprise from his lawnchair at the voice. That surprise quickly turned into relief at the shock of messy hair, even if the teenager looked like he was trying to curl into himself while still standing. “Nope. Go ahead.”

He sat down on the other lawnchair, tucking his knees against his chest and glancing skywards. 

For a few minutes all was quiet.

“… It’s a nice night.”

“Sure is,” Greg returned easily. “We get a lot of those around here, especially in summer.” The kid looked so sad and he ached to do something about it, but pouncing was ill-advised right now. 

A star shot across the sky. Suddenly that pain became a look of sheer joy, the boy gasping in delight. Greg smiled. “Pretty, huh? Meteorites are aweso-”

“Meteors.”

“Mm?”

“Oh- uh-” The boy flushed. “They’re only meteorites if they don’t disintegrate before they hit the ground. Otherwise they’re meteors.”

“No kidding. What about comets, then?”

“Oh, those are like-” He held up his hands a width apart. “They’re small solar system bodies made out of ice, and when they get close to the sun, the sun warms them up, and that makes them start releasing gasses- it’s called outgassing? And that’s what makes them look like they do- although they don’t always get a tail.”

“The only comet I’ve ever heard about is Haley’s Comet,” Greg mused.

“Oh, we won’t see that again until 2061,” he chattered. “That comet only comes around every seventy-five years, give or take a year.”

“Well look at you, little astronomer!” Aw hell, that face was cute. It looked just like Steven’s when Steven was going off about music. “Okay, what do you know about other solar- bodies?” That was the term he’d used right? “In our solar system.”

“You- really wanna know?”

“Yeah!” For all his son was a space prince he knew dip about the solar system. “Lay it on me.”

“Oh- geez- where to start-! Okay, did you know a day on Venus is longer than an earth year? Uhhh- the footprints on the moon?” He pointed up, like Greg might’ve forgotten where the moon was. “Those’ll be there for a hundred million years- oh here’s a really cool one; if two pieces of the same kind of metal touch while in space, they permanently bond because the atoms straight up have no way of knowing that they’re separate! It doesn’t happen on earth because there’s air and water between the pieces.” He stretched out one foot, eyes locked on the starscape above, face practically glowing, hands moving as he spoke, as if trying to pluck the wonders he spoke of from the sky to show him. “The highest peak on any planet in our solar system is Olympus Mons, which is a giant volcano on Mars that’s like, three times as big as Everest! Neutron stars–those are the densest and littlest stars we know of so far–their radius is around six miles long but their mass might be several times greater than our own sun, and they might spin six hundred times a second because of their weird physics-”

Greg didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until Danny stopped, cheeks turning bright red.

“U-um- sorry, didn’t mean to just go off like that-”

Greg waved a hand. “It’s fine. I asked, right? Besides, that was all pretty cool.” He wondered how much Steven knew.

Quiet again.

“It really is a nice night,” the boy murmured.

“If you stick around, you’ll get used to them.”

The teenager’s back went rigid. “Uh-”

“Look,” Greg said with a slow sigh. He set aside his guitar. “… I don’t pretend to know exactly what your situation is. And I’m not demanding to know, either. I have some guesses-”

The blood drained from the boy’s face.

“-But! Well… I’d be a hypocrite if I turned you over to the police. I get it, I really do. But I’m a father, kiddo. I just… want you to be safe. Wherever that is, however that has to happen. Even if the law wouldn’t exactly be smiling at me for how that comes around.”

“… So you’re saying… you’re… not? Gonna call the police?”

“No. And frankly we’ve got enough weirdness going on here that I don’t think a lot of people will be too upset at something new if you just started hanging around. That’s what my son’s friend started doing, for days, and nobody questioned her. They all just assumed she’d just moved to Ocean Town nearby and, well, she had.”

“Son?” Now that his fear was easing, he was processing that. “You’ve got a son?”

“Yup.” He didn’t bother trying to hide the pride in his voice. “About your age, too. If you do start hanging around here, you can expect to run into him. He’s very much a people person. Spends a lot of time wandering town and usually ends up here at some point or another.”

“Huh.” There was something else in his face now, a look Greg recognized very much indeed. It took everything in him to not physically react to the yearning in his eyes. “… If he’s anything like you that… doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Steven is a million times my better, trust me,” he chuckled. “I know I’m his dad and it’s kind of my job to say that, but really, he is.”

“Heh…” the boy stretched his legs.

Silence.

“You got a place to sleep?”

The big, baby blues were defensive again. “Yeah.”

“Sleeping bag?”

“Mmhm.”

“… And you’re not lying?” he coaxed gently.

“No.” Though still lined with borderline aggressive caution, Greg could read his face well enough. He wasn’t lying.

“Okay. But if the weather ever gets really bad, come find me. We’ll figure something out- and it won’t be with me,” he added hastily as the boy quirked an eyebrow, drawing his legs in again. “You can crash with my son, maybe, or I’ll find somewhere else you’d feel safe in, but I wouldn’t try to make you stay in a space with me alone. I get it. Stranger danger.”

That got a head tilt. “He doesn’t live with you?”

“Ah- no.” That old pang, especially given recent events. “He lives with his mom’s relatives. It’s a sort of… joint custody thing, but we’re on good terms. He comes down and sees me all the time, and I go over there all the time. We cook together. Hang out. He’s fifteen minutes away by walking from here. I basically just don’t actually sleep there, really, unless he wants me to.”

And lately he’d wanted him to quite frequently. Especially after the other night. It had taken a minute of comfortable silence while eating for Greg to realize that if he’d only slept five hours, so had Steven, since Steven had gotten back from his walk not minutes before Greg finally passed out. Steven squirmed under his gentle questioning but caved quickly enough, admitting he’d had a nightmare and wanted to go clear his head. Even better, he didn’t resist Greg’s offer to stay over for the rest of the week.

That therapy sure was helping. Little steps. It hadn’t stopped the nightmares, and the boy still went pink occasionally, but Steven was opening up, accepting help. Greg was proud of him.

Now hopefully this kid would accept some manner of help, too.

… He probably should explain the magical aliens, huh. Then again, if the boy was hanging around Beach City so much…

Well it wasn’t like all the gems had humanoid anatomy to their forms. Hell, Bixbite had a claw! And the kid hung around Fish Stew Pizza often enough to have probably seen her.

“So have you seen the- uh-” He gestured out over the city. The boy blinked in confusion before understanding dawned on his face.

“Oh, you mean the literal aliens walking around.” He snorted at Greg’s face. “Well they’re not exactly subtle.”

“Uh- no, you’re right, they’re not,” he laughed weakly. “It’s a good thing the ones that look less human have the sense to avoid Beach City during the day during tourist season but there are slips now and again.”

“I’d say it’s kind of amazing the news hasn’t spread but like- aliens. Who’s gonna believe that.”

“Exactly. You have no idea how long that’s kept us safe.”

Something passed across his face, something grim and hard and understanding and wow it made a rock lodge in his gut. The look was gone in seconds, but some of that steel remained. The nod the boy gave was way too mature for a kid his age. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d imagine it’d be bad if it got out beyond Beach City. I won’t say anything.”

“We all appreciate that,” Greg said softly, still stunned. “Uh- thanks, kiddo.”

“Mmhm.” He stretched out again.

A breeze blew through, ruffled their hair.

“Danny.”

Greg’s head turned from the starscape above them. “'Scuse me?”

“Danny. My name’s Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Greg. Greg Universe.” He held out his hand across the divide of the lawn chairs. Danny studied it for a moment before taking it.

“It’s… been nice to meet you too.” A hint of a grin. “Universe? Really?”

He flushed. “Ah, well- bit of a story, tha-”

“How’d you manage to land the coolest last name in the world? You and your kid get 'Universe’ and I get something dorky as hell? That’s not fair.”

Greg stared at him for a moment before laughing.

He liked this kid already.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Mistress Wit

Wyll x Criella

Rating: T 

Ao3

With Patch 3 out now, I decided to make another bg3 oc to romance Wyll! Dafni will still be the main character so to speak of my bg3 writing with Criella serving as a secondary protag & member of the party in Sunshine and Starlight. She and Wyll will also be getting their own little collection with Dafni & Astarion serving a similar role! However, as my writing is pretty ship centered you wouldn't really need to read one to enjoy the other!

                                                     Prologue

Criella brought her hands above her head, fists pounding against the transparent shield that kept her snuggly trapped in the mind flayer pod. If she could just find a weak spot…

Ah-ha!

It was faint but, Criella spotted a hairline fracture in the upper right portion of the glass. Perfect. Her tail dipped into the worn leather bag strapped to her thigh seeking her tinker’s tools. If she could just find her mallet she’d be able to shatter the glass and free herself from her confines. She reached for the top of her head, pulling her goggles over her eyes. With one precise strike, the mallet made contact with the pod’s lid. What had started as a single small fracture now spread across the whole surface in a spiderweb of spits and breaks. Carefully, her fingertips traced the somatic symbol needed to cast a gust cantrip.

“Ventus!” With the command spoken a small tempest broke free of her palms sending shards of glass flying across the clearing.

Her boots hit the ground with a soft thunk, the collateral of her escape crunching beneath her feet. She scanned her surroundings nose wrinkling with repugnance. This was definitely not Waterdeep. She’d crashlanded in some sort of hinterlands located god knows where. She brought her fingertips to her temples rubbing away the tension with little circles. She needed to locate civilization and quickly. It was only a matter of time before the dangerous effects of the tadpole squirming behind her eye would manifest.

She dug around her bag until her hand found its target. A spyglass forged of brass, runes of her creation glowing across the tarnished cylinder. Pushing her googles back up, she pressed the scope to her eye looking out into the forest. Her mind tingled, the Spyglass of Clairvoyance reveling a small settlement nestled in a nearby grove. It was no city of splendor but it was a lead. The only one she had anyway. Perhaps, whoever called the grove home would be able to point her towards the nearest healer if they didn’t have one of their own. Her body ached from the top of her horns to the tip of her tail. Even if they couldn’t see to the parasite they could ease the discomfort of being crammed into a pod had caused.

----------

Criella sat atop a traveler’s chest, her tail flicking idle from side to side. The groves healer had just set out alongside a mercenary band just recently. Meaning her only choice was to doodled among the druids until their Master Halsin returned. She let out a huff of air, blowing away a stray strand of straight, lilac hair from her eyes. If someone were asked to rattle off a list of locations they might find Criella Wit of Waterdeep, a druid’s grove would certainly not have been among them. She’d never been one for nature’s charms. Given the choice between a bustling market or a quiet glen, Criella would have picked the crowded walkways and noisy rabble of the city to the glen every time. At least she was among kin. All around her other Tieflings mulled about weary faced as they set to packing up what little they had. Criella’s gloved fingertips tapped out an anxious rhythm on the side of the chest. Criella knew better than most that right and wrong could be terms with objective definitions. But turning out helpless refugees and children? That was wrong by every definition. She had sat in Zevlor’s quarters discussing the events that lead his people to take refuge among The Oak Father’s servants. They had come from Eturel originally- Collateral damage in the wake of post-Decent xenophobia. People who had once been treasured friends and neighbors became easy scapegoats for the suffering Elturel’s people experienced in the hells. Her grip on the chest tightened. Were it not for the black leather gloves her pointed fingernails would certainly have left a mark on its suede surface. Well, if the druids weren’t going to help she would. She pulled out a well-weathered note pad and nub of charcoal. She could adapt her design for the Protector canon with relative ease. She’d have to find a way to streamline and simplify it given her the groves appalling lack of anything metal. What she wouldn’t do for steel and iron! Perhaps their smith would have some to spare though she doubted it by the state of his forge. “What are you drawing?” a tiny sing-song voice asked. Criella glanced up from her work. A little tiefling girl of no more than 10, was staring owlishly over the edge of her notebook. Criella’s lips quirked, tuning the book so the girl could get a better look at her scribblings. “It’s a diagram of an Eldritch Canon. I’ve made hundreds of the things but today I’m working on one just for you and your friends. To keep you safe.” She explained, tapping the tip of her finger to the sketch, “It’s sort of a… a mechanical cleric! If anyone gets hurt on the road it might be able to help.” “You can make that?” The child whisperer reverently. “I can make anything.” Criella winked, “Just give time and the right tools.” “Could you teach me?” She asked, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly, “I want to be able to make anything! I want to help! I’m not good at fighting or sneaking like the others maybe I’m good at making things!” Criella let out a chime of warm laughter. The little girl’s eyes were full of wonder and optimism despite all she and her kin had endured recently. She’d too had been more interested in tomes and tinkering as a girl. While her peers were swinging sticks and imagining themselves as knights and guardsmen, little Ella would climb the tallest tree in the yard and name it Blackstaff Tower. “Well I can’t teach you how to make everything in just one day but, I can show you a few things.” Criella brought her hand to her lips, sharp teeth tugging the grove from her left hand. With a heartfelt smile she extended her hand to her would-be apprentice, “They call me Misstress Wit of Waterdeep but since we are friends, you can call me Criella.”

Wyll walked the length of the makeshift training ground. Adjusting postures and offering up every word of tender engorgement he knew. The tiefling children had been ecstatic to meet a ‘real-life hero’, bombarding him with sweet, curious questions the moment he stepped through the gate. After such a warm welcome teaching a few sparing lessons while he waited for Halsin to return, was the least he could do. These children had already witnessed more than many noble old men would in their whole lives. They should have been chasing frogs, enjoying their childhoods without fear. Not training for battles they couldn’t win. Despite the cheerless nature of his thoughts, Wyll put on his warmest, bordering on a fatherly grin. “Not bad! Not bad! Now, remember not to keep yourself so open.” He instructed demonstrating his instruction for a little boy with rusty hair, “Like this.” “Keep it up little one. You’ll be a fine warrior one day!” A lovely voice called. The gentle, golden timbre belonged to a statuesque tiefling woman. Wyll’s heart sputtered a bit when her soft silver eyes fell across his face. A dazzling smile on her rose-petal pink lips. Walking beside her was a child- Nalia, the little girl with a missing horn. He’d invited her to spar but she’d only blushed and ran off. “Wyll! I look at what I made!” Nalia shouted dragging the pretty-pink woman along behind her. When she reached the ring she pulled free a small metal gadget no bigger than her palm. The steal contraption glowed with a soft purple light. It’s slivery surface marked with an inscription: Be Brave, scrawled in infernal. “Aren’t you clever!” He said crouching down to admire her handiwork, “What is it?” “It’s an eldritch canon!” She rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world The woman stifled a giggle, covering her grin with the back of her gloved hand. “Is that safe?” He asked cocking an eyebrow at the smirking beauty. “Yes! think of it as a mechanical cleric, Wyll!” Nalia said winking at her companion, “I’m going to be an artificer just like Mistress Wit!” “That’s right!” Wit nodded, “I think you’ve done enough work for today apprentice. Go on, take the rest of the day off...” As Wit trailed off a strange feeling began to unwind in Wyll's mind. The sights and smells of an unfamiliar harbor city danced across his senses. He could almost feel the sea breeze on his face. He saw a workshop so organized and meticulous it reminded him of his time with The Fist. He felt the uneven surface of cobbles stone under his feet as he tore after a thief, tears stinging at his eyes as the hooded figure mad off with the last project he and a half-drow woman had planned before she left. Lastly the memory of being confined to a pod and dragged to the hells. Wit blinked back at him dazed. Her slender nose wrinkled, her lips turned down in a worried grimace. “We should talk.”

Criella sat across from the Wyll at a shabby picnic table, poking at her gruel with a wooden spoon. The old woman had called it vegetable soup but remind her too much of the oil she used for in some of her machines to be palpable. “Not much for stew eh?” He teased taking a long sip of his bowl, “You haven’t spent much time in the wilds, have you?” “I am I that obvious?” she giggled, “I’m from Waterdeep- I’ve lived there all my life. Not much work out here in the woods for someone in my line of work.” Wyll tilted his head, bringing his chin to rest along the top of his knuckles, “Oh? And what is your line of work Wit?” He hadn’t heard of her? How strange. She was something of an arcane darling back home. If you asked someone where to inspired spellwork or magical mending. If they had any sense they would give you one answer: Wit and Wander. Well- Just Wit since Zoria had left for Neverwinter with her new wife…. “I’m many things; wizard, artificer, genius. Take your pick.” Wyll chuckled raising his tankard in approval of her assuredness, “Impressive.” “And what about you Wyll?” She said playfully, “Let me guess? You are a soldier. Mercenary? No, you are too upstanding to be a sellsword.” “They call me the Blade of the Frontiers.” He stated with a proud nod before continuing “Monster hunter. Hero. Protector of the common folk.” “The Blade of Frontiers? Now that’s a name!” She whistled, “And I thought Misstess Wit was a clever epithet! Now tell me Blade- How did you find yourself aboard the nautiloid?” Before he could respond the sound of a war horn rang out across the grove. Zevlor sprinting past them as shouting about a goblin siege at the front gate. Both adventures sprung to their feet as panic spread among the refugees. “Alright Blade.” Criella purred pulling her storm canon from the holster at her hip, “Let see if you live up to the legend.”

[baby-brightmonster]

Leading Man: Chapter 1

The moment you’ve all been waiting for. Just kidding no one asked for this. On with the show. 

Laughter and smoke, filled the room as they expelled from her mouth like a dragon. Maya’s friends laughed and quipped along with her. Her closest friend, Bridget found the script on an end table.  

“Oh shit you didn’t tell us you have a new job lined up,” she mentioned setting down the bong on the coffee table.

“I don’t,” she told her. “It’s just a reading, they want to hear me sing, I doubt I’ll get it,”

“Positive,” her other friend Skyla mentioned sardonically.

“No, they want me to play Lydia, of all things, I can’t play Lydia I’m too old, I’m 26 for God’s sake. There is no way I get that role,” Maya informed, not mad, not bitter at all, she just did not think she was right for it. “They even told me to just go in and read,”

“When do you go into read?”

“Like next week,”

“Who are you reading with, do you know?” Maya shook her head, and went for another hit.

“I heard it’s going to be the dude from School of Rock,” Skyla quipped looking at her phone, “How cool would that be? I mean, how many times did you see that show?”

“Literally only twice,” Maya said a little too defensively, with people the truth of the matter was that she had watched it another time by herself, she remembered him.

“Crap what was his name again?” Bridget mentioned in a tone that felt like baiting.

“Alex,” Maya and Skyla answered at the same time. Maya from memory, Skyla from her phone. She remembered him, he was magnetic, funny, wonderful voice. He was the perfect lead, she didn't stand a chance.

“...totally fucking gone! It was hilarious!” Skyla giggled while Bridget clapped and guffawed.

“Sorry, I zoned out, what happened?” Maya muttered.

“Yeah you zoned out,” Bridget quipped. “Dreaming about Alex, were you?”

“You’re so stoned right now,” Skyla commented. “I was telling Bridget about how when we see the show, you could not take your eyes off of him, the whole time, and he was on stage, the whole time.”

“Funny how that works with him being the lead.” Maya quipped. “And he was good,”

“Real good.” Skyla said lewdly. “She looked him up through the playbill,”

“Shut up,” Maya growled,

“Followed him on Twitter,”

“Shut up,”

“Wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how he was sooo talented,”

“Fuck off Sky,”

“Downloaded the soundtrack,” Sky mentioned. “After that everything was Alex, so great, so talented, she was like a twelve year old girl around him,”

“Thank you Skyla,” Maya finalized. “Great, I’m totally not nervous, or anything?” They gently ribbed her a while, joking about how she would be doodling “I heart AB” in her algebra book, they continued to drink, and their night went on after they mercifully, moved on from the topics.

A week passed, and then it was time for the reading. Maya came in with her bag, with her sides, her heels clicking on the hard tile, In the mean time, she had signed up to dance in a music video, so despite her aching feet, she still dressed up a little. She liked to look nice wherever she went, blaming the Old Guinea mentality she had grown up with, always look good when you leave the house. Her black lace dress and heels were par for the course, the red lips were just a trademark. She looked more like Morticia Addams than Lydia Deetz. Plus one look at the wispy little teenagers that she walked past showed that she was just there for the reading to show some little girl how it was really done. Nevertheless, she liked the show she thought it was funny, and heartwarming she would have loved to have been a part of it.

“The idea that I want to do here, is I want to convey that it’s manipulative, but still kind of, charming you know?” The director tried to explain using hand gestures. “Think big bad wolf,”

“That’s a great idea yeah,” he responded bent over the script. The directors head perked up at the sound of her heels.

“There she is! Thanks so much for coming Maya,” Timbers greeted as he walked up to her and grinned, she shook his hand, not a hugger.

“Of course, happy to help,” she responded flashing a smile.

“You know, Alex?” Timbers asked good-naturedly, they made eye contact and her stomach did flips. His eyes looked like a glass of whiskey held up to the light, then he smiled at her, and she melted.

“No, I have never had the,” do not say it Maya, “pleasure,” oh god, Alex shook her hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” he greeted, And when he said ‘hi’ I forgot my damn name…

“Likewise,” Maya replied brightly.”I’m Maya, I’m here to make you feel tall,”  He chuckled, sending an army of butterflies all over Maya’s body.  

Don’t look at her dress, or her lips,  he chided himself. He did not want to be the asshole in this case, he did not know how old she was, that she was in a few shows, quite a few shoes, as he found out later. She had been on one stage or another since she was ten years old. She cut her teeth with dancing. As shown by her legs. Timbers had told him so, triple threat, and she wrote. The director had told Alex it was between the dancer, Maya, he corrected himself and Sophia who was admittedly younger. He and Sophia had sang together in the first test, and he was rooting for her, Maya sat around with her long, shapely, legs crossed gushing to Leslie about how she loved her in a film she saw a few years back. Stop looking at her legs, he reminded himself, keeping his eyes glued to his notes. Okay, okay, its fine, I’m married not blind, he rationalized. She’s a pretty girl, that’s it. Timbers told them to get started, having Maya go first.  

“Look babes,” he said using this gruff voice that he wanted to do for the show. Maya tensed,  he carried on. “we can help out each other, you don’t like your dad, I don’t like my mom, she doesn't get me,” she was so - taken with him. 'This is A problem' she decided, the other girl's faces were captivated. They could not wait to sing with him, the youngest was bouncing and joking along an endearing way, Mays smiled back, she reminded her of her own little Sister. If the role would not go to Maya, she hoped this kid got it. Maya tried her best not to laugh, it was just a reading.

“You could use a buddy,” he sang in the voice, at that cadence it was less funny, “don’t you want a pal?” He slid over to her, feeding off the laughter in the room. “Yes, I do, yes I do,” sneaking an arm around her. Oh, fuck he smells good, she thought with the utmost dread. She miraculously, got every cue, thanking God that the script was in front of her as she doubted she could remember anything right now.

“Okay, what’s your name?” Maya sang getting into it, Alex, then snapped his eyes up and down her body and walked closer to her.

“What’s my name?” He questioned, never breaking eye contact tilting her face towards him. “I’m the best you’ll ever get, girl,” she cleared her throat stepping away from him.

“B-be a doll and spare the lecture,” she sang back getting herself together.

I am so screwed, Maya thought. If I have to work with this guy it’s going to get real messy, the song went on, with Alex begging her to “free him” dropping to his knee in front of her and grabbing her hips, with a wink to show he was just messing with her. She hoped she was not as obvious as she felt, her hands were trembling and her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

“Beetlejuice,” she said, her hand without consulting her brain, ran itself through his hair. He got up to his feet, his hands still on her hips.

“Yes,” he husked, and that growl that he did, got her right where it counts. The heels put her at his eye level which made it easier for him to look at her, with a sneaky little smirk that knocked the wind right out of her.

“Beetlejuice,” she breathed. Great idea, she thought. I’ll play too, she snaked her hand up his neck to his face, brushing her fingertips behind his ear. He squeezed her arm, a cough from one of the girls brought Maya back to reality.

“Yes….” He cocked an eyebrow his smirk going to a grin.

“Beee,” she sang running her hands up his chest smoothing over his shoulders. She then comically, pushed him away. Along with the guilt she felt. He’s taken. “Cause! You’re so smart a stand up role, I’ll think about your offer let you know, but I should take my chances down below.” He straightened up and smiled at her, a genuine smile out of character, Maya fixed her gaze on the book in front of her, she would need a cold shower after this. Just in case he could not push it any further, the grunts he made in the next verse. “Okay, Beetlejuice,” moan, “Beetlejuice,” a whimper. “Being young and female doesn’t mean that I am an easy mark,” the petulant growl he gave her was enough to send her off the edge. As she sang her solo part, Alex stood back with his arms crossed over his chest smiling at her tapping his foot to the piano music. Mercifully, the song ended and Maya thought she would faint.

“Ok let’s take a small break,” Timbers mentioned. “Anyone need some water,”

“Maybe a cigarette,” Rob McClure joked, causing Alex to shoot him a look. “What?”

“Yeah, I, um,” Maya stammered. “Need to make a call.” She all but ran out of the room.  

“Brightman, a word,” his agent said charging towards the door. He was about confront Rob about what the hell he meant by that cigarette comment but followed the other man anyway. The door shut and they sat in the hallway. “What the fuck was that?”

“What? She did great,” he argued. “Good voice, and they said they wanted someone who could dance, so,”

“‘What’ you know damn well ‘what’, half the people in there were expecting you to rip her dress off, when you called her ‘Baby’ I thought she was going to blow you,” he ranted.

“I’m supposed to be creepy,” Alex tried to defend, the truth of the matter is, he did not even know, she just drew him in, and maybe it was because she was older that he thought he could get a little raunchier with the song. Yeah, no one is going to buy that. He was an idiot, her manager had mentioned she was so excited to work with him and he acted like, well, a creepy old guy.

“That wasn’t creepy,” the other man argued. “That was you picking her up, which circles back to my original point - what the fuck dude?!”

“I,” he tried, just dropping any pretense. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Good talk her out of suing,”

“Were you there?” He barked. “She was into it, I felt how she grabbed my hair, how she touched my chest,”

“She’s an actress that’s her job dumb ass,” he bit back. “Look. I don't care who you do, frankly you can take her doggy style in the bathroom for all it matters to me, just don’t let anyone see you, you can’t get mixed up with that bitch,”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Don’t defend her honor,” he said sarcastically.  “The next one is fifteen try not to grope her too,”

“Fuck off man,” Alex grumbled as he went to go find Maya. Sure enough she was on the phone, speaking rapidly in what sounded like Spanish? She was laughing, so that was a good sign. When she spoke slower he registered it as Italian. God, it sounded beautiful coming from her. She caught his gaze and smiled, hurrying whomever it was off the phone.

“Hey,” she said brightly. She put her phone away, in her dress as she folded her hands formally in front of him.

“Hi,” he replied. “Oh, your dress, has pockets?” She chuckled.

“Yes, it does,” she answered giving him a kind smile. Get it together, he scolded himself. He must have been silent for too long because she followed it up with, “I can give you the name where I go it,” he chuckled and shook his head.

“I just, I wanted to say sorry, I think I went pretty overboard in there,”

“Oh, no,” she told him, “That back there? Please! I once had to tango with a guy who actually cupped my peesh in front of a live audience, which included my parents,” Alex laughed, oh hell, he thought. she’s funny.  “I would have done something if you had really crossed a line, you’re okay,”  

[pckarchives]

beneath the cut , you’ll find random tidbits of info that i thought up at unholy hours of the night. took all day but tbh ..... this was therapy. i really said, “i’ll make my own damn self happy,” and it shows.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟏.     ›     alicia marie levesque boyd-whitley.

► hobbies ➔ painting and decoration, primarily. for the most part, this is due to the nostalgia of doing it with her moms. she’s not awful at it, but she’s not van gogh levels of good, either. it’s just for fun, as all things should be. she’s also incredibly creative, so things like renovation ideas come easy to her. she did ballet for several years, but dropped it before she moved to beacon hills. ► social media handles ➔ she’s aleesha on just about everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ mostly conventional, with a series of emojis attached to every name. ► favorite color ➔ green. but sea foam-ish green. ► favorite video game ➔ animal crossing new horizons. she’s a simple bitch; she sees cute animals, she plays the damn game. ► favorite song ➔ style by taylor swift. ► favorite scent ➔ pumpkin spice! not to be totally cliché, but that scent is unbeatable. she has a million candles with that scent alone. ► favorite band/artist ➔ taylor swift, of course. ► favorite place to be ➔ nana’s house! ► favorite season ➔ winter! she had so much fun with lucy over this past winter and if that’s the way lucy acts every year for christmas, then alicia looks forward to it! ► favorite word ➔ squishy. ► favorite meme ➔ maybe so.gif ► if they were an animal ➔ cheetah! ► if they were a color ➔ beige. no longer the pure white she once was, but not the tar pit that she could have been, either. a beautiful mixture of purities and imperfections. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *going through the five stages of grief* HHHHHHHHH !!!!! someone just slid in my dms and *voice cracking* this is what they said.... *sobbing* gIRL.... *sniffle* HNNNNNN..... you should sell hoT DOGs.... ‘cause you know how to make a weiner stand. hNNNNNN.... HNNNNN!!!!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ shake it off. ► aesthetic ➔ paint-stained overalls, tear tracks covered in glitter and flower petals, crooked fingers snagging the last slice of pizza out the box, thick-framed glasses with the lens popped out, it’s for the aesthetic, sharpie’d converse kicks and open hearts doodled onto the palm of your hand –– darling girl, someone will really love you one day. ► motto ➔ “it really do be like that sometimes.” ► theme song ➔ lights up by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟐.     ›     amari rose kent.

► hobbies ➔ writing, mostly out of spite. in middle school, she had a meeting with the principal, during which he told her she was at risk of being expelled, due to how many teachers had issues with her. this was the same principal who told her she would never get anywhere, hanging off of tate’s coattails, so she wrote a 50-page paper in the span of one week, shaming the school for its discrimination and unethical practices when it came to students. instead of giving the paper to the principal, she submitted it to the board of education and got the man fired. not only did the essay make it onto local news, it also got her a scholarship to devenford prep; lucky, since tatum had already been offered a scholarship and was on the verge of turning it down because she wouldn’t go without amari. though she hasn’t spitefully written anything that huge since, she is still not afraid to thinkshame. also dabbles in poetry and collage-making. ► social media handles ➔ amari_rose on twitter and instagram. she surprisingly does not have a snapchat! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, she’s giving nicknames. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ she doesn’t play video games, so she doesn’t know. ► favorite song ➔ bad guy by billie eilish. ► favorite scent ➔ not to kinkshame, but.... leather. ► favorite band/artist ➔ billie eilish, she is not ashamed! ► favorite place to be ➔ wherever tate and owen are, honestly. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ bullshit. ► favorite meme ➔ thA’TS MY OPINION !!!! ► if they were an animal ➔ panther. ► if they were a color ➔ silver. black is a hard color to obtain and she hardly comes close. she’s got all the darkness she doesn’t need, but the world put that in her. still, she’s close to light, too; close to breathing in sunlight. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ to the mIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHER –– yes, YOU, you know who you are –– who said EYE would never be shit, LOOK AT ME NOW, WHORE ! LOOK AT ME NOW .... not shit. and HOW YOU LIKE IT ? *twerks belligerently* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔  sad beautiful tragic. ► aesthetic ➔ messily chopped hair in the bathroom sink, tongue poked out to lick ketchup off of nimble fingers, rushed words in a lost diary, a bottle drifting out at sea, cigarette smoke and tequila-coated daydreams, harsh breaths in and out and in and out, bruised knuckles and bleeding lips, we’re not done here. ► motto ➔ “chin up, chest out.” ► theme song ➔ all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish. alternatively, kiwi by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟑.     ›     camden wesley layton lahey.

► hobbies ➔ he took up woodworking a few years back. therapy and whatnot. he likes making little birds and figurines out of wood, keeps a box of them in his nightstand. ► social media handles ➔ he’s not on social media! he’s old, leave him alone. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. again, he’s old, leave him! ► favorite color ➔ grassy green. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s always going to be a sucker for mario party. that game is unfairly frustrating, but he would ride or die for it. ► favorite song ➔ i of the storm by of monsters and men. ► favorite scent ➔ peppermint! it used to make him sick, because it’s such a strong smell, but it’s now his absolute favorite thing in the world. ► favorite band/artist ➔ gorillaz. ► favorite place to be ➔ he honestly prefers closed spaces? tight spaces where he can see every corner, every entrance, every exit, every tile on the floor. whenever he starts panicking, he will sneak away to the nearest closet or something. ► favorite season ➔ spring. rebirth, babyyy. ► favorite word ➔ dammit. ► favorite meme ➔ it’s free real estate. ► if they were an animal ➔ german shepard. ► if they were a color ➔ light pink. this strange mix between the pure white of being a blank slate and the awful red of having spilled more blood than he can even remember. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ AWWWWWWW 😍😍 awww, i’m gonna die alone 🤗🤗🤗 awww !!! i’m never gonna know what it’s like to be LOVED, AWWWWWW !!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ holy ground. ► aesthetic ➔ sweat-dotted skin, racing heart, jingling dog tags, checking the locks on the door once and then again and then again and once more just to be sure, hesitant hands and wet eyes, a smile that’s easy even when nothing else is, sunlight pouring in through a cracked window, a step closer to an answer, five steps back. ► motto ➔ “sure, jan.” ► theme song ➔ clint eastwood by gorillaz.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟒.     ›     charles gerard argent.

► hobbies ➔ someone should tell him that working out isn’t a personality trait, but it really is his hobby. your depression can’t catch up to you, if you’re getting these gainz. ► social media handles ➔ he’s charliecharlie on everything, because he’s funny. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ it used to be creative, but man, that depression hit him hard and he switched to conventional. ► favorite color ➔ white. ► favorite video game ➔ fortnite, shut the fuck up, liam, he doesn’t want to hear it. ► favorite song ➔ perfect ruin by kwabs. ► favorite scent ➔ salt water. ► favorite band/artist ➔ clairo. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the beach. he takes frequent drives up to the closest beach, ► favorite season ➔ summer. beach time! all the time! ► favorite word ➔ yeet. ► favorite meme ➔ y E E T. ► if they were an animal ➔ raven. ► if they were a color ➔ a myriad of colors; there are so many facets to charlie and until he figures out exactly where he is in life, he’s going to keep creating a puddle of colors. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *dancing and singing to the tune of under the sea* ptsd 🤪 anxiety 🤪 crippling depression, there is no question, you should kill me !! let me be with HARAMBE 😤✊ i feel like shit every day ! i’m asking nicely, do it by drowning, under da sea 🌊🌊 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ getaway car. ► aesthetic ➔ that damnable water’s edge, the view from the top of a mountain, gnawed fingernails and scraped skin, 11:11 and back again, holstered knives and picturesque smiles, droplets of blood spilled into cold coffee, palm grazing the door to happiness but not quite opening it yet ––– another day and you might just make it. ► motto ➔ “que ce sang protège ceux qui ne peuvent se protéger.” ► theme song ➔ broken bones by kaleo.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟓.     ›     cora vienna hale.

► hobbies ➔ lowkey has a love of mechanics. she doesn’t trust anyone else to repair her bike, so she learned how to do it herself. also learned how to fix cars, because scott is always messing his up. also still plays soccer when she has the time. ► social media handles ➔ she’s just corahale on everything. it’s more “professional” than what she had before. which was... a series of expletives that made lydia blush. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless she really hates you. then she can get creative. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ detroit: become human. ► favorite song ➔ hold on just a little while longer from d:bh. luther snapped. ► favorite scent ➔ pinecones. ► favorite band/artist ➔ bryson tiller. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house. it feels good to be able to go there again and not be assaulted with all of the reminders of what she lost. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ buttercup. look her in the eye and tell her it’s not the cutest word you’ve ever heard. exactly, you can’t. ► favorite meme ➔ looks into the camera like she’s on the office. ► if they were an animal ➔ lion. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. pure and beautiful; maybe not innocent, maybe not for everyone. but royal and bold and unrelenting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ sO... .i just went to starbucks and i got my iced coffee and i was standing in line and these little girls were looking at me. *sniff* and i was like, “okay, funny joke.” so i, um, i’m s–– i’m waiting for my coffee, uh, at starbucks, and these other little girls were just, like, LOOKING AT ME and they kept on staring and then this DAD kept on looking and then he kept on staring. and *uncomfortable laughter* ....... *more laughter* ..... *turns on music* *keeps laughing* *turns music off* what kind of sick fucking joke ? .... *uncomfortable shrugging* ...i EXIST ? *more laughter* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ clean. ► aesthetic ➔ a horrid red fire meets a river of blue, gasoline stains on faded tees, an unexpected smile on a rainy day, the way the forest breathes after a rainstorm, skintight dresses and haughty gazes, a smirk that rests for no one, the innocence of a white wolf in a prom dress. ► motto ➔ “flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo.” ► theme song ➔ big god by florence and the machine. alt. the man by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟔.     ›     daniel nahele mahealani.

► hobbies ➔ he no longer loves hacking or music, because... whew, high school killed everything he cared about. mostly sticks to being lydia’s dress up doll. ► social media handles ➔ he’s d-annyboy on all things, because it’s easy! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless he’s trying to hide something from jackson and lydia. lydia is not afraid to go through his phone, which he genuinely doesn’t mind, that’s why she knows all of his passwords and stuff. but he does not need her to know how many guys he’s fucked that she didn’t like, he’s not here for the lectures. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ wii sports still outsells, he is not taking criticism or debate on this topic. ► favorite song ➔ magic in the hamptons by social house. ► favorite scent ➔ hot chocolate. ► favorite band/artist ➔ childish gambino. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the risk of being gay, wherever theo is. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ pack. he loves feeling loved, sue him. ► favorite meme ➔ kermit spreading his asshole. ► if they were an animal ➔ elephant. ► if they were a color ➔ orange; just on the cusp of happiness, but always holding back. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ hEY GUYS, i’m just really co–– really confused, ‘cause what does fall have to do with fuckboys 🧐🤔 ‘cause I’VE been fucking boys .... EVERY MONTH, winter, fucking februarymarchaprilmay, june, december... dULY ... *someone taps on the trunk of the car* *looks back* ...that’s my dad *frantic zoom-in* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ afterglow. ► aesthetic ➔ scar-littered skin and callused hands, abandoned hobbies and hopes and dreams, all stashed to the back of the infamous closet, dimples cheeked and optimistic eyes, high school jerseys folded in the drawer, letterman jackets treated like sacrosanct, the memory of when things were simpler and the rain didn’t last so long.  ► motto ➔ “this could be worse.” ► theme song ➔ clementine by halsey.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟕.     ›     derek alexander hale.

► hobbies ➔ book collecting. as their lives continue to not make sense, he collects books on any and every odd ‘myth’ out there and just waits for the day it comes in handy. ► social media handles ➔ lydia has made him dhale on everything, because he’s boring. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. he now has a lock on every app in his phone, because fiona and lydia will happily break into his phone to change his contacts, if he’s not careful. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ he doesn’t often play video games, but he will school these youngsters in a game of yahtzee! ► favorite song ➔ when doves cry by prince. ► favorite scent ➔ something baking in the oven. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prince. no, he is not talking about it. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house, when the entire pack is there. close second is the loft, when everyone is there. he’ll complain until he’s blue in the face, but everyone knows he’s secretly weak for that. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ no. ► favorite meme ➔ blinking white guy. ► if they were an animal ➔ i... a wolf. ► if they were a color ➔ tree bark brown; steady and stern and stable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *standing at the bathroom door, glaring* if it breaks. one more time. don’t ––– shut your mouth. if it breaks while i’m sleeping, i will grab you by the neck and shove you down the shower drain. *continues to glare* ......... i’m going to take my shower now. *slowly and threateningly closes the door* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ daylight. ► aesthetic ➔ shattered handcuffs, ashes spread across the floor, delayed inhales and painful exhales, a pool of flowers at your feet ––– begin again. ► motto ➔ “no.” ► theme song ➔ sinnerman by nina simone.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟖.     ›     dominic joseph kim.

► hobbies ➔ yoga, meditation, brewery, skin and haircare routines, and swimming! a king stays busy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s domkimi on snapchat, instagram and twitter, but he’s baddiebbarbietingz on reddit. he has a tumblr account, but he refuses to tell the pack what his username is. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative. feel free to look through his phone, but good fucking luck figuring out who is who. ► favorite color ➔ gold. ► favorite video game ➔ sims 4. he gets the chance to actually build a sustainable life? with a family? in a house? with cheat codes? and love? and aliens? and lovers who become plants? sign him the fuck up. ► favorite song ➔ would you mind by prettymuch. good form by nicki minaj is a close runner-up. ‘cause he do, in fact, be the baddie b barbie tingz banging body b, everybody be on his d, cause he gotta be in reality–– ► favorite scent ➔ pizza! if it’s not good for you, why does it smell so good? make it make sense. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prettymuch. ► favorite place to be ➔ tate’s lab! it’s where he and owen do most of their brewing, aside from their field trips to the greenhouse to get more ingredients. it’s basically where dominic does his best and calmest work. close second is his own apartment, because he does yoga in the living room each morning. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ cecelia. ► favorite meme ➔ who said that.gif. ► if they were an animal ➔ a turtle! specifically, one of the turtles from finding nemo. ► if they were a color ➔ blue. calm and collected. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ so i said i’m a switch on tiktok, right ? and now all these ladies are comin’ out of the woodwork like, “hey, i got a strap-on and a dog collar with your name on it ! ” 😳😳 and i’m like... you put my name on it ? 😍👉👈  /// alternatively: theee necklace my boyfriend bought me just came in the mail *zoom in on necklace* ....I’M my boyfriend ! i bought this for myself ! EEE *excited grin* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ style. ► aesthetic ➔ the push and pull of a tidal wave, a dash of eyeliner here and a bit of mascara there, collared shirts and wrinkled jeans, overrated pop over a bluetooth speaker, a fascination with milkshakes and musicals, a heart that beats out of rhythm but never misses a step. ► motto ➔ “the birds work for the bourgeoisie.” ► theme song ➔ good thing by zedd and kehlani.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟗.     ›     elliot james aldridge.

► hobbies ➔ aside from his bathtub poetry and crime, he has revived his love of cooking and music. is masterful at the piano, guitar and harp, dabbles in cello and flute. he likes his music pretty, okay, sue him. ► social media handles ➔ redacted by the fcc. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ depends on how much he likes you! if you’re kosher, you get a creative name. if not... you get your own name. ► favorite color ➔ blood red. unironically. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s a poker man, but if he has to choose a video game, meet him in super smash brothers. ► favorite song ➔ say so by doja cat. ► favorite scent ➔ blood. ► favorite band/artist ➔ hozier. ► favorite place to be ➔ no offense, but the french quarter in new orleans. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ self-care. ► favorite meme ➔ why would you say something so controversial, yet so brave? ► if they were an animal ➔ hyena. one of the asshole ones from lion king. ► if they were a color ➔ red. he’s not hiding that. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’mnotfallingi’mnotfallingi’mnotfalling, i’m not f a l l i n g, i’m not FALLING, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not fALLING....... !! *deep breath* oKAY, i’m falling. /// alternative: the oNLY reason i have not destroyed the world is because i have not had ice cream in a while, i want some ice cream. but tRUST ME, when i get some ice cream ? your ass is grass and i’m the lawn mower ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ ready for it? ► aesthetic ➔ a hoop of sterling silver, initials carved into dying trees, tempting eyes and a charming smile, cufflinks left on the nightstand, a prison cell and a funny story, top three buttons left undone, far too aware for his own damn good. ► motto ➔ "excuse me, i'm new in town and it gets worse." ► theme song ➔ sunlight by hozier.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟎.     ›     erica juliet reyes.

► hobbies ➔ tracking deucalion and peter, for one thing, but that’s more of a job than anything else. does raving count as a hobby? she’s officially taken up rock climbing, by the way. a huge slap in the face to her epilepsy. ► social media handles ➔ she changes her handles frequently, because she’s indecisive, she can’t decide–– but she’s currently reyofsunshine on everything. shoutout to fiona. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative and often explicit! ► favorite color ➔ sand brown, don’t @ her. ► favorite video game ➔ until dawn. understand the palm of my hand, bitch.... jesus hot sauce christmas cake.... what were you tweeting, hashtag there’s a freaking ghost after us? your fave could never! ► favorite song ➔ hot girl bummer by blackbear. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy or fee’s baking. she’ll come home just for that. ► favorite band/artist ➔ blackbear. ► favorite place to be ➔ at a party. she’s very into raves. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ motherfucker. ► favorite meme ➔ respect the drip, karen. ► if they were an animal ➔ a horse. enticingly beautiful but will also kill you. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. not as pure as cora’s gold, but twice as inviting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ all i’m gonna say is that i didn’t take ap classes in high school, escape the friend zone, graduate with honors, get cheated on, go to college, mentally deteriorate, become addicted to nicotine, sign a year lease, drop a sorority, fail chemistry and dye my hair purple, just to cry over the frat boy leaving me on read that smokes weed for breakfast, lunch and dinner 💁🏼 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ false god. ► aesthetic ➔ push-up bras covered in black lace, smeared lipstick against the bathroom mirror, jeans that leave nothing to the imagination, a wolf that lies in wait and fears no god, the epitome of poison. ► motto ➔ “meanwhile, back at the ranch...” ► theme song ➔ needed me by rihanna.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟏.     ›     fiona evelyn porter.

► hobbies ➔ baking, pinterest, cheer, volleyball and softball. truly depends on the season. ► social media handles ➔ feezypeezyporter stays true to her brand. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! her contact ids are indecipherable, the only people who can understand them are katie and cass. dom gave up. ► favorite color ➔ light green and light pink! ► favorite video game ➔ beat saber! ► favorite song ➔ love again by carly rae jepsen. ► favorite scent ➔ is.... is it gay to say cass? ► favorite band/artist ➔ carly rae jepsen. ► favorite place to be ➔ the loft! it really is her happiest place. alternatively, wherever cass is, ‘cause that’s home, babey! ► favorite season ➔ spring! baby sticks to her brand. ► favorite word ➔ braggadocio. how on EARTH is that a real word? ► favorite meme ➔ let me see what you have. a kNIFE! NO! ► if they were an animal ➔ cardinal. ► if they were a color ➔ green. the color of grass, covering everything, everything, everything. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *crying and sipping tea* it... is ver .... very b... bold of you to assume ............. ! *pained smile*  /// alternatively: ONE OF YOU FAT BITCHES UNFOLLOWED ME !!! *manic laughter* i’m not mad, but like...... *climbs onto bathroom sink and leans in very close* what was the last straw ? ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ me! ► aesthetic ➔ bare lips passing over green leaves, a lullaby to a struggling orchid, spanks and sweat drops and a desperate need for approval, a digital scale blinking red numbers back at you, pills of white and blue and yellow, maybe tomorrow you’ll be happy again. ► motto ➔ “team work makes the dream work!” ► theme song ➔ work this out from the high school musical 2 soundtrack.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟐.     ›     hayden louisa romero.

► hobbies ➔ she has a love of sports. got into lacrosse before her imprisonment, though she was a little too fragile to play a real game. was a soccer star as a kid. also puts on glamour shows for the kids and the dogs, if they ask. ► social media handles ➔ she doesn’t have social media. imprisonment tingz. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, you get an emoji or two at the end of your name. ► favorite color ➔ ocean blue. ► favorite video game ➔ will forever be weak for pokémon. ► favorite song ➔ 1985 by bowling for soup. timeless. ► favorite scent ➔ french vanilla. ► favorite band/artist ➔ she’s getting into melanie martinez. ► favorite place to be ➔ bias goes to being with the ito pack, but the preserve is pretty much paradise. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ covenant. ► favorite meme ➔ and i oop––– ► if they were an animal ➔ manta ray. harmless babey. ► if they were a color ➔ prism clear. a maze of reflections, but so fucking breakable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ you mess with ME ? w ..... ! y...... ! *vague hand movements* you probably aren’t gonna experience any problems, because i’m afraid of confrontation !! /// alternative: *struggling to place lamp inside of another lamp* i JUST TOOK A TEN HOUR NAP ??? *panic* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ it’s nice to have a friend. ► aesthetic ➔ scars lifted among tanned skin, wary glances to read every room, crop tops floating above your belly, a lack of cares for a world that cares a little too much, marked skin and glossed lips, wanna make a deal with an angel? ► motto ➔ “my priority is me.” ► theme song ➔ i know by pink sweat$.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟑.     ›     judith wendy mayer-argent.

► hobbies ➔ biking! she does it primarily for work, but she also does it for fun. also, huge gamer. and protestor. baby keeps busy. ► social media handles ➔ mayerjude. she can make so many jokes out of her own last name, don’t tempt her. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! unless it’s someone important or authoritative. then they get their own name. ► favorite color ➔ sunshine yellow. ► favorite video game ➔ fornite. ► favorite song ➔ sunday candy by donnie trumpet and the social experiment. ► favorite scent ➔ cupcakes! the frosting! the delicacy! ► favorite band/artist ➔ maroon 5. ► favorite place to be ➔ in the middle of a protest, rally or march. if she’s not in action, then what is she doing? ► favorite season ➔ spring. ► favorite word ➔ audit. ► favorite meme ➔ surprised pikachu. ► if they were an animal ➔ dolphin. ► if they were a color ➔ sunset orange. no, i will not elaborate. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *walking down the street* so we were peer reviewing papers in one of my classes aaaand this girl goes, “you use some FANCY LANGUAGE ! ” and i was like, “what word ? ” and she was like, “perpetuate.” .........on GOD, we gon’ get you a dictionary. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ don’t blame me. ► aesthetic ➔ sunflowers pushing up from freshly dug graves, a smile away to keep the doctors away, sprained wrists wrapped in inappropriate laughter, bruised knuckles and black eyes, drink in hand, swinging your hips to that voicemail left by your toxic ex-boyfriend. ► motto ➔ “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...” ► theme song ➔ modern love by david bowie.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟒.     ›     kali kaira laghari.

► hobbies ➔ knitting. she has abandoned all of her self-care and therapy ideals, now knits and talks to ghosts. mind ya business. ► social media handles ➔ she’s not on social media, either. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. she has no times for games. ► favorite color ➔ red. she’s a scorpio, what do you expect? ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but she’ll take mortal kombat any day. ► favorite song ➔ nintendo game by alessia cara. ► favorite scent ➔ tea! ► favorite band/artist ➔ alessia cara. ► favorite place to be ➔ aside from wherever rohan is, she prefers the bookstore. confrontations aside, it’s a very small space, quiet and relaxing. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ goddess. and yes, for exactly the reason you think. ► favorite meme ➔ as a treat. ► if they were an animal ➔ scorpion. ► if they were a color ➔ smoky grey. everything’s a little hazy with this one. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *staring at the food on the table, slowly losing her mind while everyone else argues over murder* *holds head in hands* *bangs hands on table repeatedly, screaming* WHAT ARE WE THANKFUL FOR !!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ i did something bad. ► aesthetic ➔ cross-legged sitting in the middle of the road, waiting for a new thrill, fingertips grazing the harsh blade beneath your skirt, popcorn and wine with a man you could’ve loved if you were both a little less fucked up, a question that should never be answered, a world-view that should never be defiled –––– and you did it all. ► motto ➔ “i don’t need permission or advice; just help.” ► theme song ➔ simmer by hayley williams. you should see me in a crown by billie eilish.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟓.     ›     kira fuyuko yukimura.

► hobbies ➔ she trains to keep herself calm. often talks with her fox nowadays; she wants to build trust. and given that kira is doing fuck all to deal with her issues, she needs someone to talk to her. she and her fox get along a lot better these days. she also runs, practices lacrosse maneuvers on her own and plays with lightbulbs.  ► social media handles ➔ she’s a simple woman: kyuki. cut the fluff, cut the extraness. also, kyuki is what she’s named her fox.  ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, save for people who warrant a creative one. aka those whose names she doesn’t know. you would be surprised at how many there are. ► favorite color ➔ purple. ► favorite video game ➔ also a fan of animal crossing! ► favorite song ➔ ahead of myself by the ambassadors. ► favorite scent ➔ cinnamon. ► favorite band/artist ➔ the ambassadors. ► favorite place to be ➔ it’s dorky to say, but she likes being with her parents! they’re still in new york, so she doesn’t get that chance as much. however, her second favorite place to be is.... her bed. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ poppy. ► favorite meme ➔ guess i’ll die.png ► if they were an animal ➔ truly a fox. ► if they were a color ➔ steel blue. baby is electric. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i might be a BIG, DUMB, GAY BITCH ................ !! *smirks at camera* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ cruel summer. ► aesthetic ➔ a thunderstorm in your bedroom, leather gloves pulled over dainty hands, quick footwork and sly gazes, untied shoe laces dragging across the floor, leggings beneath skirts, quiet meditation before bed, sharp teeth poking into bruised lips. ► motto ➔ “yeah, this isn’t weird at all.” ► theme song ➔ fall in line by christina aguilera and demi lovato.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟔.     ›     liam stephen dunbar.

► hobbies ➔ lacrosse no longer counts as a hobby, considering he made it his entire life. does training with allison count as a hobby? does texting gwen bad jokes count? ‘cause that’s all he does, my guy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s dvnbcr on everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, until fiona gets her hands on his phone and changes his ids again. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s that guy who plays all of the 2k nba games. like, he has to stan. ► favorite song ➔ i don’t care by fall out boy. ► favorite scent ➔ turf. he’s a loser, what do you expect? ► favorite band/artist ➔ fall out boy and kendrick lamar are tied. ► favorite place to be ➔ the lacrosse field. he does not stray from his brand. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. lax season! ► favorite word ➔ shit. fuck is a close runner-up. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ve won.... but at what cost? ► if they were an animal ➔ rhinoceros.  ► if they were a color ➔ gray; that perfect intersection between white and black, good and bad, wolf and bomb. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *talking to his mom while she’s watching tv.* hey, mom? will you pause that? you know that guy i’m talking to is 6′4″? can’t wait to get my shit wrecked. so you are a bottom. ...wait. okay, i.... that’s not what you’re supposed to say! what am i supposed to say? don’t –– not that! *goes to sit next to her* i’m 👏 not 👏 a 👏 bottom 👏. bullshit. *confused look of betrayal* is this legal? have you ever done anything for anybody else? no, you’re a taker. /// alternatively: *trying to start a fire* hope so ! you gonna let the fire breathe or you gonna fuckin’ suffocate it ? i will end your goddamn short ass piece of shit useless life. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ this is why we can’t have nice things. ► aesthetic ➔ a rage that you can never quite tame, hand broken from too many punches, the green of fresh cut grass, car mileage piling up, miles and miles and miles left to go, bashful smiles and reddened skin. kid, you’re not nearly as bad as you think you are. ► motto ➔ “i blame scott.” ► theme song ➔ dr. whoever by aminé.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟕.     ›     lydia charlene martin.

► hobbies ➔ sewing clothes, throwing parties, picking up new languages, ruling the world, saving this pack from falling apart, doing everything in this goddamn house! ► social media handles ➔ queenlydia, but who’s surprised? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ convention meets creativity in lydia’s phone. everyone has their first name, with a lord/lady/duke/duchess/etc. attached to it. jackson is the only one with king, obviously. you know you’re in trouble when she attaches peasant to your name. good luck climbing your way back up the ladder. ► favorite color ➔ pink. ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but dead by daylight is that bitch. ► favorite song ➔ honey by kesha. ► favorite scent ➔ strawberries. ► favorite band/artist ➔ kesha. ► favorite place to be ➔ in jackson’s arms, she is not taking that back. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ throne and jackson are tied. ► favorite meme ➔ why are you booing me? i’m right! ► if they were an animal ➔ swan. ► if they were a color ➔ purple. royalty is not a game, kids. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ not a vine or tiktok, but yes, it’s me 💅🏽 & you guys are mad about it ohmygod i make y’all feel that 🤢 well, i just wanted to pop up here & show y'all how i'm doing ! i'm doing great. i'm looking great, i'm feeling great, y'know 💇🏽 i'm obviously over here very booked & busy, while you bitches over here are still looking raggedy & not doing shit ! hahaha ! WOW ! 💁🏽 but anyway, um, i just wanted to let y'all know i'm not going anywhere. so talk your shit, you shitholes ! you can't defeat a bad bitch ! you just cannot do that ! i rise above that ! EW 🤮 so i just wanted to say hey ! & that i'm here to stayyy ! & you gon' be mad everydayyy ! HAHAHA ! SUCCESS ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ paper rings. ► aesthetic ➔ a crown that fits just perfect, newly manicured nails, breakfasts at tiffany’s and on decorated balconies, the picture on the altar, damp curls and loose braids, tight dresses and sinful heels, brave but never fearless. ► motto ➔ “i’m lydia fucking martin.” ► theme song ➔ okay, okay by alessia cara.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟖.     ›     scott lucas mccall.

► hobbies ➔ video games! he also likes helping the pack renovate whenever they decide to. though he has put fiona on a limit. after she redesigned her room five times in two weeks, he finally had to put his foot down. ► social media handles ➔ he is the most disorganized of the bunch. he’s scootermccall on snapchat, scottymccall on instagram, scotthewmccall on twitter because he’s weak for whatever fiona asks. it’s a mess, but he’s not changing. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, but with lots of emojis to show he cares. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he wants to say mario kart, because that’s his and lucy’s thing and, um, he’s in love with her. but other than that! life is strange. he hasn’t figured out how to win yet, but gosh dammit, that’s not going to stop him from trying.  ► favorite song ➔ dna by lia marie johnson. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy’s perfume! ► favorite band/artist ➔ panic! at the disco. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the vet! he’s so happy when he’s around animals and it feels good to know that he’s helping these animals get better? ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ lucy. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ll be honest, i can’t read. ► if they were an animal ➔ golden retriever. ► if they were a color ➔ yellow. speaks for itself. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i had an essay that was due at 11:59. instead of being a smart, responsible student, i decided to wait until 11:40 .... to START my essay. i finished the essay on time. but the gag is............. it was a five-page essay. and i got it done in sixteen minutes. *dancing* they gon’ hate me regardless, that’s why i do what i do ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ state of grace. ► aesthetic ➔ a lighthouse drawing in the lost, the open door of a sunken ship, wrongly buttoned plaid shirts, clumsy fingers and stumbling feet, saddened eyes that follow healing hands, the suspension of disbelief ––– whatever that means. ► motto ➔ “everything will work out!” ► theme song ➔ only the young by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟗.     ›     tatum coretta bellfleur.

► hobbies ➔ nanotech mechanics! she learned as a way to make things for owen and amari that they couldn’t afford to buy. won a few competitions, got a few scholarships, got into programs that taught her how to do greater things than she’d ever imagined. took up baton twirling at devenford, but gave it up when she got to college. fiona is trying to convince her take it up again next year. ► social media handles ➔ she’s tatertot on everything, courtesy of one judith mayer. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. keep it simple, thanks. ► favorite color ➔ silver! it’s so pretty. ► favorite video game ➔ death stranding. no, she will not elaborate. ► favorite song ➔ mo money mo problems by notorious b.i.g.  ► favorite scent ➔ flowers! ► favorite band/artist ➔ tupac. yes, she is that bitch. ► favorite place to be ➔ her lab. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ free. ► favorite meme ➔ you know i had to do it to ‘em. ► if they were an animal ➔ doe. ► if they were a color ➔ white. no matter how much she hates being protected, she’s the picture of purity. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *sitting in front of a mirror.* maybe.......... i’m the problem 🤨 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ out of the woods. ► aesthetic ➔ a blanket of snow covering the grime and pain of yesterday, contained explosions and soft humming, tight ponytails breaking cheap rubber bands, tongue poking out the side of your mouth, the sun peeking through the slits of your blinds, wondering where you’ve been these last couple’a days. ► motto ➔ “i’ve lived through this before, i’ll live through it again.” ► theme song ➔ 100 years by florence and the machine.

[jeonminhao]

Best Regards, Jeon Jungkook

BTS JEON JUNGKOOK | 2.5K WORDS  |  FLUFF

Rating : PG-15  | Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Neigbor AU!   “You really didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook, the resident graphic designer with – as Seokjin had put it – a heart of gold and zero self-perseverance. You really didn’t think you bore any resentment for the tenant who lived next to your apartment. Or that was what you were trying to think for the past month until you saw three post-it notes stuck on your apartment door when you got home from a meeting.”

A/N. I’m trying to write again so here goes nothing! Let me know what you think! Find me on AO3 :D

You didn’t hate your neighbor, really. You barely knew the guy! Your landlord only told you his name was Jungkook and that he was a graphic designer. “Maybe you knew each other!” Seokjin, your overly optimistic borderline dopey landlord had said when you mentioned you were a music producer. That was not how it works, but you couldn’t really destroy your landlord’s excitement, so you replied him with a smile. You didn’t think you’ve even met the guy when you first moved in aside from the note slipped under your door telling you to stop making loud noises at night. It would have been fine if it weren’t for the fact that he took the time to doodles dying stick figures on one corner with one stick figure clanging cymbals on the other corner (you might have ended up replying with a very bad doodle and an equally passive-aggressive note but that was not the point).

You really didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook, the resident graphic designer with – as Seokjin had put it – a heart of gold and zero self-perseverance. Min Yoongi, the resident grumpy cat lady who happened to be your cousin, had also told you the same thing, although with a very much more interesting choice of words (“the dumbass who loves Iron Man a little too much and looked like a muscly rabbit” Yoongi said as he helped you unload some boxes). But then again, you’ve spent most of your life with Yoongi and you knew the guy never said anything nice to anyone except for his cats. Hell, he even told you, his favorite cousin, that you looked like 'the hairball his cat hacked up’ when you fought off some bullies who made fun of him.

“He’s not that bad.” Jimin, the beautiful dancer who lived two floors above yours commented the other day. He had accidentally listened to Yoongi’s very creative opinions on Jungkook. “Kinda dumb when it comes to girls, but a very decent guy. You look like you can get along with him.”

“Excuse me, are you implying I’m kinda dumb too?” You asked.

Jimin only flashed you a grin as he sauntered off and it reminded you of Yoongi’s cat that would always try to claw your face whenever you came too close to it.

“Come to think of it, you are similar in some ways,” Hoseok, your best friend, commented offhandedly as he picked up another box. “You have that look on your face.”

“What? Beauty?”

“It’s more of a perpetually confused look. But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

(You chucked your sandal at his head at his comment.)

So yes, you really didn’t think you bore any resentment for the tenant who lived next to your apartment. Or that was what you were trying to think for the past month until you saw three post-it notes stuck on your apartment door when you got home from a meeting.

“Do you want me to buy you a headphone? :(“

“It’s amazing how you and Yoongi and Hoseok are friends for so long! I wouldn’t have survived it.”

And more intricate doodles of what you thought was you screaming while the other stick figures cried in the corner.

.

Jeon Jungkook was a little shit and you didn’t know why everyone thought you’d get along with him. You, as the mature adult that you were, decided to play loud music that night only for Jungkook to slip more notes and stupid passive-aggressive doodle at midnight. The exchange went on for the next three months. Which was why you were now lying on Yoongi’s couch, asking him for more revenge ideas. You had played most of the songs on your favorite playlist, to the ones you hated. And you had collected a pile of post-it notes with doodles and weird notes that you were sure were filled with more passive aggressive messages and insults.

“He’s a little shit, Yoongi.” You groaned.

“You have one more thing in common then,” Yoongi replied.

“I am not!”

“Didn’t you try to make better brownies for our neighbors, Namjoon last week?” You opened your mouth to retort, only for Yoongi to cut you off, “and both of you ended up sending tons of food to our poor neighbors by the end of the week.”

“He started it.” You grumbled.

You should have known better. You should have left the apartment when you realized Yoongi was silent for a good minute before his lips curled into the most obnoxious smile you have ever seen.

“[Y/N]…” he started with a manic grin. “Do… do you have a crush on Jeon Jungkook?”

“I DO NOT!”

You definitely did not have a crush on your tall, cute neighbor of yours that always tried to get on your nerve. And the heat on your cheeks was definitely because of the hot weather. Nothing to do with how Yoongi kept staring at you with that stupid grin or the thought of Steve that popped into your mind.

.

“Hey, [Y/N].” You jumped at the voice and quickly turned around to face Jungkook standing by his door with his eyebrows raised. His lips quirked into a smirk at how wide-eyed you were.

“Jungkook.” You nodded, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Hey, can you play those cute songs you blast the other day? I kinda like it.” Wait, what?

“Do you not have iTunes, Jungkook? You know you can buy the tracks online, right?”

“It’s free.” He shrugged. “I’ll draw you some doodles if you want.”

You gawked at him. Jungkook, bless his heart, had the decency to look a little sheepish for a mere second before he went back to his annoying self.

“Don’t forget to play the songs!” He grinned before he entered his apartment, leaving you gaping at his door in confusion and shock.

.

“Were you trying to flirt with her?” Taehyung asked the moment Jungkook closed the door behind him.

“Uh…”

“Cause that’s so pathetic.” Taehyung snorted, ignoring how red his best friend’s face had become. “Man, I told you to be all cute and romantic and you decided that sending weird notes and doodles are romantic?”

Jungkook groaned and buried his face in the couch while his best friend watched him from the kitchen, clearly used to his antics. “Wh-ami-sup-to—do!”

“Well, you could start by actually talking to her and not acting like a kid. She’s pretty nice once you get to know her.” Jungkook quickly turned to Taehyung, his eyes wide.

“You’ve talked to her?!”

“She gave me some brownies, which, in my opinion, taste better than yours.” Taehyung shrugged, sipping his coffee while he enjoyed the sight of Jungkook flailing on the couch, mumbling more incoherent words. “I can’t believe you have a crush on your neighbor and your first idea is to tell her she played her music too loud.”

Jungkook was about to reply when he heard it. The bubbly pop music she had played the other day. The songs he requested her to play for her. His face bloomed into what Taehyung described as ‘disgusting, love-sick, puppy face’.

“Do you think she likes me too?”

“Jesus, you’re really pathetic, Jungkook. This is why you’ve been single all your life.”

.

You really didn’t think you like him. You were just entertaining him. Maybe he was too broke to buy one track on iTunes. Maybe his laptop broke. You were just doing him a favor. Definitely not because he flashed you that cute smile that morning when you picked up your mails. Not because of the way your heart beat a little faster at the sight of him helping your neighbor and playing with some random dogs by the street. Most definitely not because of the butterflies in your stomach every time he greeted you in the hallway. It was justa favor.

But when you jumped out of your couch to run to the front door, beaming from ear to ear at the little notes and cute doodles he drew you for the day, you knew it wasn’t just some simple favor for a neighbor. He drew you a little cat and you thought it was you, judging from the frown on the face and your favorite dress. It was too adorable and you ended up sticking it on the fridge along with the other doodles he had given you.

You were, as Yoongi and Hoseok had said, completely and utterly fucked.

.

Friday was supposed to be a good day. But it rained the moment you exited the building and you had to deal with traffic. As if it wasn’t bad enough for you, you ripped a hole on your rain boots on your way to a meeting. You had to sit with wet socks for a good three hours, freezing your ass off because you had also forgotten to bring your favorite scarf. The client ended up not liking the song and ordered you to do more revision, much to your frustration. But the highlight of your awful day has got to be the time when you realized you’ve forgotten your keys and locked yourself out of your own apartment while Seokjin was away for a vacation with his daughter and Yoongi was visiting his family for the weekend.

“Great.” You sniffled, rubbing your nose pink as you sat down in front of your apartment. Your hair and clothes were wet from the rainstorm and you wondered if your makeup was still intact or you’ve already turned into a sad raccoon. You were too engrossed in your pity-party for one to notice the opened door next to you. You didn’t even notice it until said person crouched in front of you with worry plastered all over his face.

“[Y/N]?” Jungkook hesitantly called.

He smelled like pine and fresh soap and something else that made you feel at home. You looked up at him, startled at how worried he looked.

“Are you okay?”

At his words, you sniffled a little louder, your eyes burned with fresh tears. He gently put his hand on yours in comfort and it was like a dam broke, the tears you desperately tried to keep in check rushed down your cheeks.

“I can’t get inside!” You wailed, slapping the door pathetically.

“Shit. Please don’t cry. Oh, shit–” Jungkook panicked. “Do- do you want to go inside? I can make you some tea?”

You really didn’t know why it just made you cried harder.

“Y-yes.” You hiccupped between your tears as you let Jungkook guided you inside his apartment.

.

Jungkook’s apartment was like how you imagined an artist’ apartment would look like. Books scattered near the bookshelf, his laptop propped on the coffee table with sketches strewn all over the floor. There was a small pot of cactus by the window. It was oddly endearing and so Steve.

“You can sit here.” He offered, grabbing all his sketches and dumping it on the lone couch beside you. “I’ll get you some towels and clothes? Will that be okay? I can make you tea too.” He rambled.

You can only manage a weak nod, trailing behind Jungkook while he dug out a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bedroom.

“You have a nice apartment.” You said between hiccups. “I like the little cactus.”

He laughed and it almost sent your heart into overdrive. He had that adorable blush on his cheeks as he led you to the bathroom, explaining which one was soap and which was shampoo in case you want to use it. You didn’t really pay attention to it, too focused on the way he smiled and the affectionate pat on your head before he left you alone. And if you accidentally used the soap on your hair, it was understandable. You were sad and tired.

.

Jungkook was sitting on the kitchen counter when you finally stepped out of the bathroom with a T-shirt and sweatpants that were definitely too large for you. You tried to pull up the pants as you waddled to the kitchen, trying not to trip on your pants by accident (damn Jungkook and his long legs). He quickly looked up, face blooming into a warm smile at the sight of you standing in front of him (his brain short-circuited at how adorable you looked in his clothes but he would never tell you that).

“TEA!” He said a little too loud, blushing as he almost shoved the hot mug at you.

“Thank you.” You hesitantly took it, sipping and sighing in relief as it slowly warmed your body.

“I have to finish some work first but you’re free to do anything here. You can grab anything to eat if you’re hungry or you can just sleep. Just–,” he paused, “just make yourself at home.”

You dumbly nodded while Jungkook ran to the living room, wanting to get away from you as soon as possible so you wouldn’t see how red his cheeks were. Too tired to do anything, you decided to join Jungkook in the living room. You walked past the fridge, smiling at the little notes he had until your eyes caught the familiar notes and handwriting that definitely belonged to you. The little ugly doodles you did for him, the weird messages. You froze as it dawned on you. Jungkook had kept every single note you have sent him and stuck them all over his fridge.

“Hey are you ok–,” Jungkook’s question died out when he saw you standing in front of his fridge, holding a piece of paper.

“You kept this?” You softly asked.

“Uhh–,” Jungkook’s mouth slightly opened, trying to find an excuse that doesn’t scream ‘I have the biggest crush on you’.

“That’s really sweet.” You giggled, feeling warmth creeping up your face. You didn’t know if it was the tea or the weather that made you look at him in the eyes and said, “I kept yours too.”

Jungkook was sure his brain stopped working the moment the words escaped your lips. You kept his doodles. The doodles Taehyung thought was a dumb tactic to get your attention. He thought he heard you said it was cute and you really liked them, but he couldn’t really hear it over how loud his heartbeat was. So, being the smart person that he was, he took a step closer towards you and blurted out, “I really want to kiss you.”

(He did get to kiss you, only to panic a moment later when he felt how feverish you were.)

“I’m okay.” You insisted as Jungkook dragged you to his bed, forcing you to take some medicine and get some sleep. “Kiss me, please?”

“You’re really sick, [Y/N]. Let’s talk about this tomorrow okay? When you feel better.” He smiled, though he still planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Okay.” You cutely nodded and Jungkook swore he died and went to heaven when you reached out your hand to hold his before you fell asleep.