#my classes next day are early for both so i can’t stay here overnight and then go back to baltimore in the morning

[terriblelizbians]

both jeff rosenstock and chris farren are going to be playing in dc in september but both are on school nights and im still in fucking schooooooool

[wonjaekook]

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard.  “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your ���girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

[clarissalance]

Wolves

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!Reader, Diluc, Crepus

Warning: minor swearing, cheesy flirt, dry humour

Summary: All men are wolves.

A/N: Muahaha I have came back and brought you the blatant cheesy flirt. Welcome to the first lesson of flirting with Kaeya. Lol, guess who is coming next? 

Also, I’m planning to write a wind-trace fic because the game is so fun. (p/s: I waste 3 hours playing it) Guess who is in it? 

Okay, the first fic for my lover boy. Please give Kaeya a lot of love!! (*￣3￣)╭ 

Another beautiful day, another day of wasting the lovely weather to stay inside the study room, bury your head into the pile of books next to you. You let your eyes wander to the window again, gazing rays of light fleeting through the window, golden hues on the wooden floor. Tiny specks of dust accumulate overnight, fluttering around the curtain. Outside, the chirping birds bathing under the sun, casually chilling on the window. Oh, how you wish you would be able to relax like those carefree animals.  

“You might burn the birds crips the longer you stare at it.” Startled by the quiet voice, your head snaps toward the blue-haired teenage direction, and you can’t help but scowl at his statement. You can’t be the only person in the room who wants to go out and play. Knowing Kaeya, he’s definitely trying to find an excuse to end the class early. 

The only person who is diligent, hard-working, and does not have thought about leaving this room is the young master Diluc. The young man is sitting opposite you, eyes burning holes on the thick textbook. 

Archon, how can a 16 years old overly enthusiastic person like him enjoy the excitement of reading Descartes philosophy? Maybe he is the only child in Mondstadt, no, maybe in the whole Teyvat who enjoys something torturous like that. Shivering at your own thought, you shift your chair closer to Kaeya, giving Diluc a terror gaze.      

“Aren’t you going to finish the essay?” Pointing at the half-full parchment on the table, you ask. “ Diluc and I already finish it.” 

“ Oh, how do I know? How am I suppose to understand Kant and Descartes theories, and then link them to deductive and inductive reasoning?"  Kaeya lets his finger running through the silky blue hair and pulls them out of frustration. On the other side, Diluc shoots him a glare, annoyed by his brother complaint. 

 “How did you guys do it?” Kaeya asks boredly, his finger pokes the quill. 

You put your hand under your chin, beaming him charmingly.  “ You know Kaeya, it is something I call improvisation. Words just flow out of my tip.” Under your lashes, you can see his cheek dusting pink. Cute! 

“ Just read the books, and you will get it.” Diluc unhelpful adds. 

Both of you stare at red-head incredulously. Is he being serious? 

Like always, Kaeya knows he can not take your advice to heart. One is a genius, and the other is just pure luck.  

Suddenly, the door is burst open, and you quickly shove your feet into the shoes, eyes darting to see the intruder. Internally, you hope that person is not lady Elizabeth, your etiquette teacher. Your blood runs cold at the thought. You can already imagine her sharp tones commenting how horrendous and un-ladylike your act is. 

“How is your study going?” A deep, strong voice booming from the back, and finally, you get let out a breath. Diluc looks up from his book, beams brightly at the man. 

“ We are done with homework, father. These are just extra reading.” Well, for the record, these are his extra readings, not yours. And Kaeya hasn’t finished his 2 feet scrolls of essay yet. 

Master Crepus nods in satisfaction. “ If that is finished, you kids can take a break. The young lady from the Gunnhildr family is here with her father. Maybe you can give her some accompanies.”  The middle-aged man directs the words at you, maybe feeling guilty for leaving a young lady like you in his two sons care. 

Your parents left you in the Ragnvindr care every Summer because of their hectic schedules and frequent business trips at this time of the year. In addition, your mother says it is essential for you to have good relationships with the heir of Ragnvindr and his brother. “Maybe you will need their help someday.” She left it vaguely. 

“ Are you guys going to drink again?” Kaeya suspiciously questions, his eyes glinting with playfulness. 

“ Hey, what’s wrong with men having a drink together?” Crepus defensively retorts, notices how Diluc gives him a disproving gaze.

“ When you guys grow up, you would enjoy it too.” The three let out opposing noises, clearly not having the same idea as him. The man waves dismissively return back the topic. 

“ Let’s come down to greet the head of Gunnhildr first.” He heads toward the door, down the hallway.   

“And be nice to the young lady, boys.” The master emphasizes the phrase, his eyes pinning at the guilty-looking Kaeya and the absent-minded Diluc. Finally, he exits the room, not forgetting to close the door. 

“ Father says as if we don’t treat people nicely.” Kaeya pouts, right after Crepus footstep drifting away from the study. “ The workers never complain anything about our behaviours, right Luc?” 

Sitting next to him, you can't help but let out a snort. He dares to say that? Kaeya raises eyebrows at you, annoyed by your shaking shoulder. The boy in red has a blank face, maybe not interested. 

“ First, you guys ignore me for 2 weeks when I just came here.” You burst out in laughter, recalling back at the very first memory when you just arrived here.

“When I tried to approach, you both avoided me like the plague.” Your whole body is shaking vigorously, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. This is too hilarious! Somewhere in between, you can spot Diluc burning cheek. 

“ Haha, and haha-later,” You can hardly breath, laughter bubbling up. “Adeline told me your reason is ‘It's b-because she doesn’t have a willie.' ” Dramatically air-quoting, you even imitate their stuttering childish voices. This earns you a pointed glare from Diluc and a smack in the arm from Kaeya, but a good laugh is always worth it. 

Both of them freeze on their tracks, faces puff red as tomatoes, steaming almost coming off their ears. If the young heir is to wear a red suit, you are sure he can blend in well with the mansion roof. 

Diluc shifts stiffly in his chair and abruptly stands up, heading toward the exit. Maybe he is too embarrassed at the mention of his dark childhood. 

“Where-haha, are you going, Luc?” You are still in the middle of your giggling, noticing how Diluc is dashing to the door. Letting out a coughing fit, he quietly mumbles. 

 “ I'm going down to greet the Gunnhildr family.” His figure vanishes right behind the door, not letting you tease him further. Outside, the painful sound of Diluc tripping on his own feet make you almost fall off your chair. You have too many good laughs today. 

“Right, I-I should get going too.” Next to you, the blazing Kaeya remembers to dig a hole and hide. His hand slams hard on the table and the youthful teenager stands up, gracefully heading toward the door. Maybe he wants to avoid becoming another joke.  

" Ah, wait-" You follow instantly, but the moment you stand up, something slips, and the next thing you know, the ground is shaking, and you see the ceiling is getting further. 

Your first instinct is to grab the closest object, and then close your eyes, waiting for the painful impact with your head. Clench your jaw tightly, and you hold your breath, hoping it will hurt less if you tense your body. 

Right after tensing up, you feel someone just grab you by your shoulder, and your feet step on something bumpy. And then, your head makes an impact with something hard. A grunting is followed. 

Heart hammering in your chest, you cautiously peek, expecting yourself to see the ceiling, but instead, greet with an unusual sight. A pair of dark colour trouser paired with leather shoes. On top of it is your feet, loosely wore low heel is stepping on that leather shoes. Shit, you stepped on Kaeya. In a panic, you rush down from his painful sore feet, but your head jams in his ribs. He just let out another woeful sound.   

This time, you carefully keep your position in place, slowly remove each foot one by one, moving away from him. Craning your neck upward, you finally meet his gaze, his eyes are full of concern and uneasiness, spooked out by your sudden incident.

 “Did you hit your head hard?” Kaeya asks you nervously, his voice laced with anxiety. He must have been terrified when you slip. You shake your head, hands grabbing his shirt.

" I should be asking you that. Are you okay?" You give him a worrying gaze, your fingers running along his ribs, checking if your stone head broke anything. " I didn't break anything, right?" Hesitantly, you look into his deep blue eyes, noticing the diamond shape. Has he always has this in his eyes? 

Kaeya snorts inelegantly, shakes his head. " Your head is hard as a rock, but that much can't break my ribs yet." This earns him a hit on his arm. 

"Hey! I'm trying to be considerate, and this is how you treat me?" You jab him, hand purposely smack his chest, but he doesn't budge an inch. How strong is this guy? This time, you put all the force on your arm, slapping hard on his chest again. The young man in the blues shoot you a shit-eating grin, clearly not faze.  

 "How is my chest feeling?" He pokes, his palm engulfing yours. 

" Too hard for my liking." You give him a complex look, trying to escape from his tight grip but fail miserably. You wiggle your hand again, shaking off his iron clad. Why is he so strong? 

While you are attempting to flee from his firm grasp, the young man leans down, face an inch away from you. Flushing at the sudden closure, like usual,  you avoid his burning gaze. You hold your breath when your noses almost touch. What is this rascal doing again? 

" You shouldn't be touching men like that." Kaeya opens his mouth, saying something completely out of nowhere. You tilt your head in confusion, while your eyes travel down, you notice your hands still on his chest. O-oh, so he is saying about this. 

" I  don't normally touch random people." You mumble defensively, your eyes lower. " I was checking for your injury."

"They will misunderstand." Kaeya cuts in right after, not accepting the excuse. But why would they misunderstand? You are just being nice, right? 

Like he can understand what is going inside your mind, Kaeya reminds you.

"All men are wolves, you should be more be careful with them."   

You give him a confusing look. 

Kaeya is not one of them, right? 

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and moves back, allowing you to savour your personal space. Just right after your throbbing heart finally calms down, he brings your tight-griped hand in his to his face. Your meet with his alluring look in his eyes. It is pulling you in, telling you to give in the temptation. Plump lips brush your knuckle teasingly, he blows a warm breath on the back of your hand. He gives you a saccharine smile.

" And if not be careful." His husky voice ringing in your ears, the numbing spark runs along your spine. "They might devour you." 

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 11

 -----------------

As soon as I walked into the veterinarian office, I felt it. Like a total drain of my muscles and my head started to hurt. 

“Mountain ash.” Dr. Deaton said as he came out from around the corner, “It weakens werewolf abilities so they cannot shift their form.” 

“That would explain it.” I smiled, shoving my hands in my pockets. 

“How can I help you, (Y/N).” He knew my name.

I squinted at him, “Have we met?” 

“We have, but you wouldn’t remember. You were here with some minor injuries and your parents weren’t sure if you were going to turn and just in case…the hospital found something interesting.” He said, a small smile on his face, “But I see you have finally turned.” 

I nodded, “Yeah, but I don’t know how.” 

“I believe I may have an answer.” He pulled out a book from the front desk. It was a dark leather bound book, its pages were brown with age. 

“It was a spell used by werewolf clans that were being hunted hundreds of years ago, in France, Scotland, England. In some cases, werewolf hunters would test werewolves in their human form with Mountain ash, rendering them unconscious. Et obscuratus lupum. Wolf Eclipse.” I looked at the book, seeing a drawing of what looked like a child, half human, half wolf. 

“Parents would perform this spell to cloak their child from hunters. The Mountain ash wouldn’t affect them and they would be spared and safe until they could transform. This spell would also remove any memories of werewolf behavior from beyond that point so they couldn’t give away the rest of the clan by accident.” 

I looked down at the desk, “But why now? Why did I turn now? And why am I an alpha? I’ve never killed anyone.” 

“As for your turning now, many children are given back their power by their parents. Or if their parents were killed, they usually don’t unless something triggers the change - high stress, fear, terror, torture. But I can’t explain the alpha part, the only people who could were your parents.” 

-

“Derek? Derek!” Isaac’s voice echoed through the building. 

“What’s wrong?” Derek turned away from what he was doing. Isaac looked frantic and scared. 

“My dad… I think he’s dead…”

“What did you do?” Derek asked firmly. 

“That’s the thing…It wasn’t me.”

I woke up on the couch. Not the best place to sleep all night. 

I sat up and cracked my back, twisting from side to side. I shuffled into the kitchen, seeing Uncle Noah already there. 

“Morning, kiddo.” He said, sipping his coffee. He went with the dark roast this morning. Bitter. Something serious had happened. 

“Morning.”

“We found Lydia, I don’t know if you heard.” He said. 

I nodded, “Of course, talk of the town. Stiles is gonna get an A in economics.” 

He shook his head, a small smile on his face. He was still slightly sleepy, meaning I could probably get something out of him about what’s making him leave this early. 

“What’s going on?”

He yawned and raised his eyebrows. He looked around the corner then back to me, “Promise you won’t tell Stiles. And I’m only telling you because it involves one of your players.”

“Isaac?” I asked, “Is he okay?” Uncle Noah narrowed his eyes at me, clearly confused how I knew. 

“I had my own questions about his home life. A guess.” 

“Well we found his dad dead this morning. Mauled to death in his car in an alleyway.”

“Mauled?” Great… This is exactly what we needed with this hunter situation going around. Didn’t Derek tell Isaac that humans were off limits, especially right now? Isaac didn’t seem like the type, but if he was getting abused, maybe he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Yeah, not pretty. Oh, by the way.” He rifled through the mail, “This came for you at the station.” It was a brown envelope. It had multiple stamps and postmarks. The text was written in old English calligraphy. 

“The Lunar Circle.” I shook my head, “Never heard of it.” I looked at the return address, “Scotland?” 

“I guess so.” He looked at his watch, “Alright, gotta go.” He kissed the top of my head, making his way out the door. 

-

I got into the locker room later than usual, but in time to watch Scott and Stiles stare at a chain that was falling out of Stiles’ locker. Coach walked between the two of them, staring at the chain as it finished pooling on the floor. 

“Part of me wants to ask… the other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine. So, I’m gonna walk away.” Before I could speak to the two, Coach slipped the blind fold onto my eyes, the elastic slapping the back of my head. 

“Good looking out.” I nodded vaguely in his direction. Stiles shoved a bag in my hands, Scott and Stiles started shoving the chain into it and froze, Scott tensed up. 

Another scent. Someone like us. 

“There’s another in here.” Scott said. 

“Another what?” Stiles asked. 

“Another werewolf.” 

Once the players were on the field, Stiles pulled me aside. 

“Alright, switch Scott with Danny for goal and then you use your sniffer on the guys on the bench.” 

I raised my eyebrows at him, still not over what he said the other day. 

He stared for a minute, then closed his eyes, “The silent treatment, really?” 

I smiled slyly, nodding. 

“Oh my god.” He groaned, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to protect me. I get it. We can have this conversation later, please.” 

I thought about it for a minute, then nodded, “Fine. I’ll go tell Coach.” I found Finstock and told him. 

“Why would I want McCall in goal? McCall is co-captain. He needs to play offense.” 

“That’s true, but what happens when Danny gets hurt during a match. Are you gonna put in someone from second line or someone with those reflexes?” He stared for a minute, thinking about what I just said. 

“Think about it like this. Danny’s out, it’s tied and we are ten seconds from overtime. Who are you putting in? Second line or McCall.” 

He nodded and chuckled, “Good thinking.” He turned back to the other players and blew his whistle, “Let’s go! Line up!” Players made their way onto the field, “Faster! Make daddy proud.” Daddy… I hate it. I scanned the line up, there was number fourteen at the end - Isaac. 

Coach blew the whistle again, signaling the drills to start. Scott ran from the goal, tackling the player. Scott was many things. Subtle was not one of them. 

“McCall!” Coach shouted, his eyes wide and his hair seemed even wilder. 

“Yeah?”

“Usually, the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Let’s try it again!”

“What the hell, man?” The player shouted. His name was…  Matt Daehler if I remembered correctly. 

Coach blew the whistle again, throwing another ball into play. Again, Scott knocked the next player down. 

“McCall!” Coach called again, “The position’s goalkeeper, not goal-abandoner!’

“Sorry, Coach…”

“Let’s go!” He blew the whistle. Again, Scott knocked the next man down. 

“Stiliniski!” Coach pulled Stiles up by his helmet. Stiles stood up from the bench on the other side of me, “What the hell is wrong with your friend?”

“Uh, he’s failing two classes, he’s a little socially awkward, and if you look close enough, his jawline is kinda uneven.” Stiles said in a rush. 

Coach and I turned heads to the side, looking at McCall. Was his jaw always crooked? Had I not noticed in all of this time?

“That’s interesting.” He said, dropping Stiles' helmet. Scott knocked over Danny next, landing on top of him. Danny was having a good year so far. 

“McCall!” Coach shouted, clearly frustrated, “You come out of that goal one more time, and you’ll be doing suicide runs ‘til you die! It’ll be the first ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide! Got it?” 

“Yes, Coach.”

“Yeah!” Coach glared. 

Jackson looked at Scott warily, “Uh, Coach, my shoulder’s hurting… I’m gonna-I’m gonna sit this one out…” He watched out of the line and onto the bench. What’s gotten into him? Besides not the bite. Scott ran forward at Isaac. But instead of Scott taking him down, they both collided and fell to the ground. That’s when I saw Scott pause, he found his werewolf. 

“Dad?” Stiles asked. I turned around, seeing Uncle Noah and two other officers heading towards the field. They must have been coming to bring Isaac in for questioning. 

“Don’t tell them…Please don’t tell him.” I heard Isaac say. 

-

I stayed back with the rest of the team while Finstock was talking to Uncle Noah. Scott was listening in on the conversation. 

“His father’s dead. They think he was murdered.” Scott said. 

Stiles looked at me, “Is that what you and my dad were talking about this morning?”

“There may have been something Uncle Noah told me not to tell you.” I grinned innocently. 

“Come on…” Stiles sighed, “Are they saying he’s a suspect?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours…”

“Like, overnight?”

“Those generally are the same amount of time, yes.” I said. 

“During the full moon.” The full moon. Not only would it be Isaac’s first turn, it was going to be mine. 

“Crap.” I mumbled. 

“How good are these holding cells at holding people?”

“People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good.” Stiles said grimly.

“Stiles, remember when I said I don’t have the urge to maim and kill?”

“Yeah…”

“He does.” How Scott could tell that, I couldn’t tell. Because I didn’t get that vibe.

-

I made my way through the hall, seeing Uncle Noah in the hall outside the principal's office. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, not seeing Isaac near. 

“We’re interviewing Jackson Whittemore. He’s Isaac’s neighbor, we’re just trying to see if he knows anything. I’m just waiting to meet the new principal.” 

“New principal?” I asked. Right after I spoke, the door opened. And there stood Gerard Argent. I tried to hide my shock when I saw him, since the last time I saw him I watched him cut someone in half. 

“Sheriff Stilinski, I’m terribly sorry to keep you waiting. Just a phone call from one of my teachers.” He said in his brogue, he turned to me, “And Miss (Y/N), assistant coach for our lacrosse team. I have been anxious to meet you.” He held out his hand. Oh, he was anxious? Yeah definitely. 

I blinked, a small smile on my face, “It’s good to meet you as well. I apologize for my shock, I was not aware that you had been hired.” I shook his hand. His hands felt cold, like the ice in his heart spread through his veins. 

“I understand. It was quite unexpected. But I am excited to get started.” He played his role well. An older man happy to help and be accommodating to his new surroundings. I knew the truth though, and it terrified me. But I needed to lay low and stay on his good side for right now. He declared war, no longer following the code and Chris couldn’t stop him like he stopped Kate. 

“Of course. I’m excited to work with you too, Mr…?”

“Argent.”

“Oh like Allison. She’s such a sweet girl, I always see her at games.” 

“She became a fan.” He nodded. In the distance, I could hear Jackson’ walking down the hall. How did I know it was Jackson? His brand new shoes squeaked.

“Well, I gotta head out. Delivery came to the front office for the team. Pearls and crosses. It was good meeting you, Principle Argent.” 

“Please, call me Gerard.” He smiled. 

I grinned and nodded, “Gerard.” I looked at Uncle Noah, “I’ll see you tonight.”  I made my way towards the front office, glad that the hunter couldn’t hear my heart beating out of my chest. 

“You okay?” Derek’s voice echoed in my head. 

I sighed, taking a deep breath, “No. They took Isaac into lock up, Gerard is the principal, and I am going to turn tonight whether I want to or not and I’m scared.”

“We’ll talk.” 

-

I sat on the front steps, looking over the envelope. The Lunar Circle. Was this something my parents were involved in? Just as I was about to open the envelope, I got a text from Scott to meet him and Derek at Isaac’s house. 

So I met them there, looking up at the sky. I had already cracked all of my knuckles so now I just was wearing a hole in my shoe from tapping. 

“Are you alright?” Scott asked. 

“I don’t know, Scott, were you okay when you turned the first time? Because I can recall you almost killing me the last time.” My eyes flashing red.

“Hey, I apologized for that.” Scott defended himself. 

“(Y/N), look at me.” Derek stood in my line of vision. The red left my eyes and I sighed. 

“Sorry, I’m just… anxious.” I clenched and unclenched my hands. 

We snuck into the Lahey household, making our way down to the basement. 

“If Isaac didn’t kill his father, who did?” Scott asked as Derek led us through the house. Derek moved slowly, keeping a flashlight beam ahead. 

“I don’t know yet.” 

“Then how do you know he’s telling the truth?”

“Because I trust my senses. And it’s a combination of them.” He looked at Scott over his shoulder, “Not just your sense of smell.” 

“You saw the lacrosse thing today?” Scott asked sheepishly. 

“So you saw him tackle and sniff everyone on the field, his big plan.” I added.

“Yeah.” Derek said plainly. 

“Did it look bad?” 

“Yeah.” Derek and I said together. Derek opened the door and we all looked down to the bottom of the basement, Scott and Derek’s eyes lit up the space a little, enough to see what was below. There were the usual things - chairs, dust bunnies, boxes.

“You wanna learn?” Derek asked, “Start now.”

“What’s down there?”

“Motive.” We started down the stairs. 

“And what are we looking for?”

“Follow your senses.” Derek said. I strayed from the group, seeing dust covered toys and games, covered with age and gray. It looked like a normal basement, but it felt like something terrible had happened here. Derek took my hand in his, pulling me back to them. 

“What happened down here?” Scott asked. 

“The kind of thing that leaves an impression.” Derek said in a low voice. It was kind of creepy, in addition to the spider web covered basement. As we went further into the basement, we saw chains hanging from the wall. My heart sank. I took Derek’s flashlight and lit up the floor, there were groove marks in the floor. Scott bent down and placed his fingers within the groove. Scratches in the cement floor. My attention was brought to a large freezer in the corner of the with a rusted padlock. The energy radiating from the cooler made my heart drop into my stomach. 

“Open it.” Derek told Scott as we stood in front of it. Scott took off the lock and lifted up the lid of the freezer. My mouth fell open in shock, tears burning at my eyes. Scratch marks, covering the entire inside of the freezer. The worst were the rust covered marks, meaning that Isaac was so desperate to fight his way to freedom that his fingers bled. I turned away from the freezer, feeling nauseous. Leaning over, my hands on my knees. 

“This is why he said yes to you?” Scott asked. 

“Everyone wants power.” 

“If I help you, you have to stop. You can’t just go around turning people into werewolves!” Scott had a point. It was dangerous to be a werewolf right now. That’s why my parents did that ritual on me. 

“I can if they’re willing.” 

“Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?”

“Yes, and he still asked.” 

“Then he’s an idiot!” Scott shouted. 

I stood back up and stared at Scott, “An idiot? He’s been tortured his whole life, Scott, and he’s the idiot for trying to save himself.” There was a growl in my voice as my anger rose. Derek put a hand on my arm.

“You’re the idiot dating Argent’s daughter.” Scott looked shocked at Derek’s words, “Yeah, I know your little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it’s gonna take for them to find out?”

Derek grabbed Scott by the shoulder, “You saw what happens to an omega. With me, you learn how to use all your senses. With me, you learn control.” He lifted Scott’s clawed hand, “Even on a full moon.” Seeing Scott’s hands, I lifted mine and saw the claws had grown in. I hadn’t even felt them come out. 

Scott pulled his hand away, “If I’m with you, I lose her.” 

“You’re gonna lose her anyway. You know that.” 

I shook my head, thinking about the night Peter was killed. The look in Allison’s eyes as she shot arrows into Derek and I was cold, no emotion at all. “Scott, don’t you remember what happened? She shot us down.” 

“That wasn’t her, that was Kate.” He defended her, like a love sick puppy. 

“Was it? You didn’t get to see her when Kate brought her down to that cellar and watched as Derek got electrocuted, over and over. She did nothing to stop her, she knew it was wrong but she didn’t stop her. Allison’s loyalties are never going to be with us.” My voice was calm but the shaking was starting to take over. It felt like my chest was going to burst at any moment. Even my gums ached. 

“Come on.” Derek said softly in my ear. He escorted me to the stairs, a gentle hand on the small of my back. 

“Wait!” We turned back to face Scott, “I’m not part of your pack… but I want him out. He’s my responsibility too.”

“Why? Because he’s one of us?” 

“Because he’s innocent.”

-

I sat in the parking lot of the Sheriff’s office, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. I can’t do this. How can I help break Isaac out of jail when I can’t even keep myself in control. I shouldn’t be around people. I shouldn’t be around Stiles or anyone else in the deputy department. I jumped when I heard the knocking at my window. Derek and Stiles stood there, looking a little concerned. I opened my door and got out, sticking close to Derek. If anyone could stop me from attacking Stiles it was him. 

“Okay. Now, the keys to every cell are in a password-protected lock-box in my father’s office. The problem is getting past the front desk.” Stiles stared at me like I was from Mars, “I gotta tell ya, I don’t think I’m going to get used to the red eyes anytime soon.”

“Yeah, me either.” My voice had a growl too, quickly shutting my mouth. 

“Well, there goes plan A. Letting you distract the front desk.” I glanced inside, seeing a woman sitting there, sipping her coffee. 

“I’ll distract her.” Derek said, turning towards the building. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s jacket and pulled him back., “You? You’re going in there?” Derek eyed Stiles hand, then Stiles, telling him to get his hands off of him in his usual way - without words.

“I’m takin’ my hand off.” Stiles quickly pulled his hand away. 

“I was exonerated.”

“You’re still a person of interest.”

“An innocent person.” 

“Ah-” Stiles blew out air, “You? Yeah right.” He sighed, “What’s your plan?”

“To distract her.” Derek said impatiently. 

Stiles nodded, “Ahuh, how? By punching her in the face?” 

Derek let out a fake laugh, “By talking to her.” 

“Is he even charming?” Stiles looked at me. Derek looked at me expectantly while I thought for a minute. 

“Compared to when I first met him, he’s very charming.” I smiled awkwardly. 

Stiles rubbed his temples, “Okay. Alright. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?” Derek only stared. 

“Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?” Stiles asked sarcastically.

“I’m thinking about punching you in the face.” Derek said snidely. Once Stiles agreed, we made our way towards the station but before we went in, I pulled Derek aside. 

“I can’t do this.” I looked up at the moon, “My body feels like it's going to fall apart and I feel so angry and-” 

“Just hold out a little longer.” He placed a hand on my cheek, “As soon as we get Isaac out, I’m gonna bring you somewhere where you can let it all out and you won’t hurt anyone. But right now I need you to get inside and make sure nothing happens to Isaac. There’s a hunter in there who’s going to kill him.” 

“Okay, I’ll try.” 

Derek led the way into the station, Stiles and I stayed low to avoid the deputy. 

“Good evening, how can I help-” She paused, looking up at Derek, “you?”

Derek gave her a thousand watt smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.” The woman said with a little tremble in his voice. She leaned on the desk. 

“Um, I had a question…” he chuckled, “Um, sorry, I-I’m a little thrown. I wasn’t expecting someone…”

“Like me?” She asked. 

“Oh, I was going to say ‘so incredibly beautiful’, but yeah, I guess that’d be the same thing.” Derek said sheepishly. Stiles stared at Derek’s back in disbelief. I shoved his side. He shook his head and we crawled down the hall to uncle Noah’s office. 

Once inside, Stiles used a code on a keypad on the wall that opened a small hatch. It was empty inside. In the next room we heard the jingling of keys.

“Oh no…” Stiles and I ran towards the source of the noise, getting closer and closer to the cells. On our way there we were stopped short by a deputy. 

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles apologized, “Just lookin’ um…” I looked over the deputy, then I saw it - an arrow sticking out of his leg. I hit Stiles' side. He looked down, then back up at the deputy. 

“Ah shhh-'' We tried to run for it but he grabbed us, pressing his hands over our mouths so we couldn’t scream. I wanted to rip his hand off with my teeth but that would be putting Stiles in danger and outting myself as a werewolf to a hunter if he got away. As we were dragged back towards the cells, Stiles pulled the fire alarm. 

Once in the cells, he threw Stiles and I into one of them. I clenched my fists together tightly, desperately trying not to turn. Sharp teeth poking at my lips. Stiles grabbed my arm, bringing my attention to the other cell, the empty cell. Isaac was loose. The hunter’s shout brought us back to see him being attacked by Isaac. He pinned the hunter to an examination table, then threw him against a wall. The hunter struggled but got up, trying to stab Isaac with a syringe but Isaac grabbed his arm and broke it. Isaac slammed the hunter’s head into the wall, he fell, dropping the syringe. 

Derek came into the room shortly after, stepping on the syringe. The sound of glass breaking turned Isaac’s attention to us. His yellow eyes took us in, his fangs and claws sharp. He stalked forward towards us. I shoved Stiles behind me, baring my fangs at Isaac as he came closer. Derek’s roar broke Isaac out of his trance, making him fall to the floor and scramble to the corner. He looked up from the wall, looking more human. He was trembling in fear. 

“How did you do that?” Stiles asked, trying to catch his break. 

“I’m the alpha.” Derek smirked, his eyes red. 

Ignoring the trembling the best I could, I walked over and kneeled beside Isaac. He was breathing heavily, eyes darting around the room like he was expecting someone to show up. 

“Isaac.” his eyes focused on me, “Let’s get you home.” I smiled and held out my hand.

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

Read part 12 here!

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[iliveiloveiwrite]

Snow Days and Surprises

A/N: Here is my entry into @summer-writes​ ‘s writing challenge! I’m so sorry it’s taken this long, lovely! I’m sure you’re well over 200 now! The prompt I chose has been bolded! As always, I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: you never really liked snow - remus gave you a reason to like it.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food

Word count: 1.8k

The pale white light emanating from the bedroom window had you groaning into your pillow. Light this pale meant one thing and one thing only: snow.

It wasn’t to say that you didn’t like snow; you did, you just preferred it through a window and not in a real-life situation where your socks could get wet.

You snuggle into the body behind you; grinning sleepily as the arms get tighter around you, holding you to them. You sigh happily at the feel of Remus against you.

All too soon though, you look at the clock, pushing down a cry when you see that there’s five minutes until your alarm. You start to wriggle in Remus’ arms, manoeuvring yourself so you don’t wake him up as you start to begin your day. Reaching an arm out, you switch off the alarm prematurely, not needing the added shock of noise to your day.

The cold air makes you hiss as you pull the duvet covers from your body, getting ready to wing your legs out and run to the bathroom for a warm shower when a heavy leg presses you to the bed and a long arm pulls the duvet covers back over you.

“No, you can’t get up. You’re my prisoner for today.”

You giggle, “I have to get up, I have to get ready for work.”

Remus shakes his head as much as he can with it still laying on the pillow. “I refuse to let you go,” squeezing your waist for emphasis.

You shift in his hold, turning your body so you can finally face the love of your life. His eyes remain closed despite being awake; he’s hoping to drop back off into sleep once you settle back down into the warmth of his embrace.

As lightly as you possibly can, you trace the scars on his face. Running a finger over the bridge of his nose, the smooth of his skin countered with the puckered skin of the pale pink scar. Your finger traces the outline of mouth. Nose crinkling when Remus bites the pad of said finger.

“Since I’m your prisoner for the day, what do you plan to do with me?”

Remus rolls on top of you; balancing his weight on his hands but still pressing you into the mattress. “I can think of a few things,” He murmurs, a smile taking over his face.

“Oh… I like where this is going.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down for a kiss. Carding a hand through his hair, you enjoy the low throaty sound the feel of your hands evoke.

You smile against his lips before flipping the both of you, straddling his hips.

He huffs in surprise; his face a picture as he takes in this new position.

“Well this is new.” Remus murmurs.

You hum, dropping a kiss to his chin, “Isn’t it?”

For a while, you kiss. Letting the sun rise over the both of you; its rays warm but the air outside too cold for it to melt the settled snow.

Remus is warm underneath you as you continue to kiss. He smiles against your lips, letting himself enjoy this moment with you. His hand runs through your hair; the other on the small of your back.

You hum into his mouth, enjoying the feel of him against you.

You pull away, breathless from the kiss, “Okay then, jailer. What are the plans for today?”

Remus laughs at your nickname for him, grinning up at you. “I say we start with breakfast then take the day from there.”

“Breakfast, you say, I like the sound of that. Will you be the one cooking?”

He rolls his eyes; mirth sparkling in the green. “I daresay I might be.”

You sigh happily as you tumble off him, rolling onto your designated side of the bed. “What will we be eating then?”

Remus taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think it over before stating in a matter-of-fact tone, “A full English.”

You groan, hands falling to your now rumbling stomach, “You read my mind.”

Remus chuckles, tapping your stomach, “Come on. Let’s get you fed. You’ll need your energy for what I have planned.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I can’t help but be curious. Give me a hint as to what we’re doing?”

Remus pulls you out of bed, handing you your dressing gown, “All I’ll say is that it involves the outdoors.”

“Now I’m really curious!” You cry, “It’s snowed overnight, you know?”

“I do know so after breakfast we’re going to wrap up warm.”

Remus takes your hand, leading you down the stairs to the kitchen.

The early morning sun, brighter with the snow, has bathed the room in a soft, orange light. The sun hits Remus at the right angle and for a moment, you’re knocked breathless by how beautiful he is. In the light, his hair shifts from dark brown to a caramel and then he turns to smile at you, the light catching his face.

And it hurts.

It hurts to look at him.

From the moment your eyes first landed on Remus at Hogwarts; you could see how beautiful he was. You could also see that he didn’t see it himself. Remus radiated warmth and joy; he was the quietest of the Marauders bar Peter who was quiet ominously whereas Remus was quiet because his mind was always thinking; always working. The Marauders were known pranksters, and you could tell which pranks that Remus had a hand in planning because despite the knowledge both James and Sirius held, Remus had a knack for planning the pranks that worked smoothly and went off without a hitch.

It was seeing this knowledge at work that had you falling in love with him. It was how he conducted himself in class; he was smart, and he knew it, but he didn’t show off like his counterpart Sirius.

His love of books called out to you, and it was in the library that you had your first discussion with him. He had approached you when he caught you reading The Princess Bridge by William Golding; he took a seat next to you and asked you questions about the plot and whether he should read. The conversation finished with him asking you to Hogsmeade that very weekend; you had answered yes with a blinding smile.

Five years later and you had moved in together and now got to wake up to his face every morning.

You shake yourself from your reverie, watching Remus open the fridge, pulling out the ingredients for breakfast.

You sit at the breakfast counter; smiling at him as he starts to cook. “You’re really not going to tell me anything about today?”

Remus blushes suddenly, ducking his head, “Just that you weren’t really going to work as I called them two weeks ago and asked for you to have it off.”

You sit up straighter, “Two weeks ago? You’ve had this planned for two weeks?”

He grins sheepishly, “I’ve had it planned for long but surprise?”

“You have to tell me what it is now! I’m going to die of curiosity!”

Remus shakes his head, refusing to reply.

The next ten minutes are spent with you pestering him about his secret plans for today. He laughs at your insistent questions; his smile getting bigger with each incredulous guess after the other.

He hands you your plate of food before sitting next to you at the breakfast bar. His hand squeezes your knee before grabbing his cutlery.

Breakfast is eaten predominantly in silence, with an interjection from you every now and then with another guess. Remus grins, but mimes zipping his mouth shut which has you pouting.

Soon enough, plates are clear and cleaned – put back in the cupboard where they belong.

“Will you tell me now?” you plead.

Remus shakes his head. You raise an eyebrow at him; he’s enjoying this way too much.

“Let’s go get dressed; that way we can be there quicker.”

You rush upstairs to your shared bedroom; throwing open your wardrobe as you looked for the warmest clothing you own. A jumper and some warm leggings are thrown on the bed as Remus walks into the room behind you.

Getting dressed for the weather, Remus watches you with a find smile. He adored your curiosity; it had been what drew him to you other than your love of books. For five years now, he had loved you wholly and you had loved him just as much. You constantly amazed him by staying; his self-doubt stemming from his lycanthropy.

His surprise for today had been nestled away for almost a year now. He simply had to work up the courage to do so.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Remus murmurs, dropping a kiss to your head.

You run a brush through your hair, smiling up at the love of your life as he leaves the bedroom.

Grabbing a hat from a drawer you pull it onto your head before bounding down the stairs to meet Remus. He’s stood waiting by the door for you; looking as handsome as the day you realised you were in love with him.

Pulling on your coat and wrapping your scarf around your neck, you grin up at the man you’ve loved since you were a teenager.

Remus pulls you in for a kiss by your scarf. You smile against his lips; he pats your waist, “Let’s get going.”

Leaving the house, your hand is tightly bundled in Remus’. At the end of street, he turns right, heading towards the park that had become one of your favourite places to go. On the walk there, you can’t help but admire the beauty of the untouched snow on the other side of the road; there was barely a soul out – people deciding to stay home, warm and cosy in the constant snowfall.

The snow falls thick and fast, sticking to your eyelashes. You huddle closer to Remus for extra warmth.

“You brought me to the park?” You ask, turning in a circle in the gazebo.

“It’s your favourite place,” Remus explains.

“It is, but why did you bring me here?”

Remus sighs, reaching into his coat pocket where he brings out a small black velvet box. You bring a hand up to your mouth, “Remus…”

“I’d kneel on the ground but the snow…”

You shake your head, eyes still on the little box.

Tears begin to fall when he opens it, saying lovingly, “I’ve loved you every day for five years, but really, I’ve loved you longer. The day I spoke to you in the library was the best day of my life, but then it was replaced by the night you told me you loved me. Then that was topped when you agreed to move in with me. And now I stand here, shivering in the snow, wondering whether you’re going to surprise me again and knock that day off the top spot by saying yes. What I want to know, darling, is will you marry me?”

You puff out a breath; it foggy in the cold air. Remus stands in front of you waiting for an answer. You drag him down into a kiss.

Pulling away, you whisper against his mouth, “Yes.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​ @summer-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything. 

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim. 

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

 Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”  

         “All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

           “Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

           “Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

           “Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

           “It must be more than eighteen.”

           “Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

           “I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

           “Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

           Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

           “Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

           “I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

           “I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

           “Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

           “If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

           “Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

           “Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

           “Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

           It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

           Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

           Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

           “Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

           “Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

           “Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

           “Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

           “Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

           Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

           “We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

           “I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

           “I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

           “I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

           “Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

           “Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

----------

           After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

           When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky.  She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

           Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

           Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

           “Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

           “I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

           Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

           “Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

           “Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

           “Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

           “Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

           “Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

           “What is your name?”

           “Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

           “Good. When is your birthday?

           “March 23th, 1939”

           “Good, and who is the president?”

           “Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man.  She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

----------

           Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

           The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

           After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

           ----------

           Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

           “What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

           “It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

           “Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

           “It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

           “Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

           “That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

           “I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

           “He is; I know you’ll like him.”

           “I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

----------

It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb’s stories with heavy eyes.  She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

----------

They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.

[hms-chill]

Red Velvet, White Meringue, and Royal Icing

The Bake Off AU that I didn’t know 2020 would need, written for @rwrbbigbang​!

Henry is a dramaturg who lives and works in London with his sister Bea and dog David. His bakes have all been approved by the casts and creative teams at the theater where he works, and inspired by his family baking tradition.

Originally from the American state of Texas, Alex now lives in Kent, where he balances studying law with his love for baking. He

Alex came to Bake Off to find out how good he is. Henry came to find new ideas and inspiration, and maybe to prove to himself that he can carry on his dad's baking traditions. But with ten weeks in a tent, they both find a little more than they bargained for.

With art by @emry-stars​ (which you can find Here and Here), and a massive thanks to Syd, @/wyverning on Twitter, for hopping in as a very last minute beta and dealing with my disaster of a first draft!

Chapter 1: Cake Week

“And you’ve got your recipes, right?”

Henry rolls his eyes with a smile, patting his bag. “Yes, Bea. They’re right here, safe and sound. If I lose them, I’m sure they’ll have the copies I sent them in the tent.”

“The little laundry sheets so you can do wash in case you get something on your top?”

“I’ve got them, too. I’m going to be fine; there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll call you when I get there, and before we start tomorrow, and I’ll keep you posted.”

She hugs him again, adding, “Dad would be so proud of you.”

He grins when they pull away, and she reaches up to ruffle his hair while he swats at her hands and escapes toward the train, waving with a confidence he’s not sure he feels. Bea had been there when he auditioned for the show, to proofread his application and help him learn the basics of food photography for the Instagram account she’d set up for him. She’d been there when they called him for the phone interview, and she’d cleaned up while he made things for the first in person interview. She’d helped him scour cookbooks and drill baking basics before his technical application, and she’s spent the past week testing his practice bakes and cleaning up after him, typically with nightly pep talks about how good he is and how she’s proud of him. But now, it’s just him and his overnight bag getting on the train for Berkshire. He’s committed to his bakes, and he’s sure of what he’s doing. Now, all that’s left is to do it.

The train ride is somehow both too long and too short all at once. He tries to get some work done, but the nerves make it hard. He wants to shout at everyone on the train that he’s made it, that he’s going to be on the show and in the tent, baking with the best home bakers in the country. He wants to ask each and every passenger if maybe they’re going to the same place, maybe they’ve done it, too, and the two of them are going to get to bake together. He wants to ask if a Victoria sponge is too simple, if he’s committed to something stupid enough to get him sent home the first week just because he’s a sentimental sap.

A crew member from the show meets him at the train station, and there’s someone else next to him, a Black man wearing the most colorful shirt Henry has ever seen. He’s got a big smile as he reaches out to shake Henry’s hand.

“I’m Percy. Call me Pez, like the sweets.”

“Henry. Nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you. I think we’re waiting for one more, then we’ll go to the hotel and see the tent and things. You excited?”

Henry nods as another boy comes over in a rush, his curls flopping into his face and bag inches away from falling off his shoulder. He sticks his hand out, and the bag slips down his arm, settling around his elbow as he shakes their hands.

“Hi. Hi, sorry I’m late, I’m Alex.”

Henry and Pez introduce themselves, and the crew member whose name Henry doesn’t quite remember (it might be Sarah?) gets them into a car and driving toward the hotel where they’ll be staying for the weekend. Ideally, they’ll be back next weekend, too , but thinking about leaving already feels like a lot for week one. Alex introduces himself as a law student from Canterbury, and Pez works at a nonprofit in Manchester. Henry just tells them he does research for a theater; it’s not quite worth getting into everything when they’re all just getting to know each other. He’s more than happy to let the others talk; he hears about Alex’s classes and Pez’s charity work. He hears about how Alex moved from America to Scotland with his mom when she married his stepdad, but he still goes back to America in the summer and for some holidays.

He half-listens, half-worries about the upcoming weekend. He checks to make sure he’s still got his recipes at least three times. They still haven’t escaped, thankfully, and by the third time he looks in his bag, Alex, who’s sitting next to him, notices. “Hey, they’re there; it’s fine. We’re all nervous, but it’ll be okay.”

Henry just smiles at him. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice before, but Alex is… well. Alex’s face is very, very nice. He’s got a bit of a smile, and Pez is saying something, but Henry’s not sure what it is and he knows he doesn’t care.

“I just don’t want to go home first,” he admits, and Alex grins.

“Listen. If I think you’re going out, I’ll drop a cake on the floor and we’ll go together, okay?” Henry laughs a bit, and Alex pats his shoulder, then turns back to say something to Pez. His hand is still on Henry’s shoulder, and it stays there until they reach the hotel where they’ll meet the others, and Henry tries his hardest to think about or focus on other things, but it’s certainly distracting.

Alex doesn’t move his hand until they’re pulling up at the hotel, and when it’s gone it leaves a cold spot in its place. Henry doesn’t have long to think about that, though, as he’s climbing out of the car and joining a crowd already around a minibus with the Bake Off logo on the side. Probably-Sarah takes their bags to their rooms, explaining that they’ll be going to the tent tonight to get a look at it and learn how things like the ovens and the mixers work.

They have the obligatory round of slightly awkward introductions, and Henry finds himself next to a man named Shaan whose aura of calm somehow seems to quiet even Henry’s jangling nerves. They’re talking about Shaan’s role as a curator with the National Museum of Scotland and their exhibit on prosthetics when the bus turns a corner and they see the white peaks of the tent emerging from behind the Welford Park House. Henry stops in the middle of a question about the Alternative Limb Project’s Vine Arm to gape, and Shaan leans over to look out the window as well. The whole atmosphere of the bus has changed, and there are a few moments of silence before it erupts into excited chattering, everyone seeming to remember all at once why they’re here. Henry still just looks, grinning, out the window. That’s the tent. This is it. He snaps a picture to send Bea.

Then they’re getting out, and they’re walking the tent. They’re being shown which benches they’ll bake at tomorrow, and they’re meeting the hosts and judges and crew, and Henry’s brain can’t seem to focus on any of it. It doesn’t quite seem real, but between Shaan’s grounding presence and Pez’s chatter, it’s hard to believe he’s dreaming. Alex being here is another point in the not-a-dream category; he’s not sure he could have imagined a smile that bright.

It’s a whirlwind trip, and they’re loading back onto the minibus before too long, Henry’s head spinning. He’ll be back here tomorrow, baking cakes he used to bake with his dad, and he’ll be doing it for TV cameras and in front of the entire world. He’ll be telling the world about growing up baking cakes, and those very cakes he used to make with his dad could be the ones that send him home.

That night, the production team takes them out to dinner, and Henry meets Nora, the data analyst Alex has become fast friends with via a heated debate about how easy a pothos plant is to keep alive. He mentions that Bea’s kept one for a few years without much struggle, which drags him into the debate and gets them all laughing. They’re not talking about their bakes, and Henry’s glad. He’s got enough to worry about without hearing the amazing things the others have planned.

The next morning, they have an early call. Henry’s in the lobby of the hotel even before they need to be, though, texting Bea an extra thank you and checking, once again, that he has everything he needs. The last thing he wants is to get to the tent and realize he’s left something here. He’s halfway through another text to Bea when there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to see Shaan.

“Hello. Couldn’t sleep either?” Henry asks with a smile. Shaan shrugs.

“I just think it never hurts to be a bit early to things.” He’s got a thermos of coffee, but beyond that, he looks just as polished as he would any other time of day. There’s no indication that he’s up at 5 AM.

“What do you think will happen today? I mean, I know they walked us all through it, but that’s not the same as actually doing it, and no one… no one really talked about things last night.”

“I think we’ll go in there and bake. What do you have planned?”

“Some… some Victoria sponges today. Mini ones. I… I’m sort of scared it’s too simple, but we used to make them with my dad growing up, and so I have a lot of practice. My sister suggested I pick something pretty simple that I’m familiar with for the first bake so I get used to it.”

“I think that’s a good plan, and I’m sure if you’ve been making these since you were young, you’ve got it down.”

“What are you making?”

“It’s a green tea cake; we had them at a gallery opening a few years back.”

“It sounds good; I’ll have to try some when you’re done.”

Shaan smiles at him, and Henry relaxes a bit. He looks around to see some of the other contestants have joined them in the lobby. He spends some time talking to Hunter, who’s very excited about the new high-protein flour he’s using for his cakes, and decides that he would maybe rather pull his ears off than hear more about high-protein flour or different milling varieties and their nutritional benefits. He’s in the bus when Alex arrives in the seat next to him, looking tired and carrying the biggest thermos Henry’s ever seen.

“Hello again. Ready for the big day?” Alex asks around a yawn.

“I’m not sure. I guess? We sort of have to be,” Henry says, and Alex nods.

“I can’t argue with you there. Still. You feel ready?”

“As ready as I can. What about you?”

“I guess. I think my sister’s more worried than I am, if I’m honest.”

“You have a sister?”

“An older one; June. She’s thinking of moving back to the states, but for now she’s working for a few magazines here.”

“Is it weird, sort of being here and sort of being back in the States?”

“I guess. It’s just sort of how it’s been since we moved, you know?”

“Think you’ll ever go back?”

“I’m not sure. It was sort of weird deciding to move, but June was coming since she was interested and school here’s a lot more affordable, so I came, too. It was… you know, this exciting new start and everything, and we’re pretty happy staying here and going back for summers sometimes.”

Henry just nods as they turn into Welford Park, looking down at the bag where he’s got his recipes again. Alex smiles.

“They all there?”

He’s teasing, and Henry just rolls his eyes. He’s expecting to be nervous as they all climb out of the van, but somehow, he’s not. Alex’s hand on his shoulder likely has nothing to do with that.

They file in to stand behind their assigned benches.

Henry puts his recipes and a picture of him and his dad baking down in front of him, taking a deep breath.

On your mark.

Get set.

Bake.

And then he’s reaching for the eggs and flour and sugar, and he’s baking a miniature Victoria sponge, just like he’s done a thousand times before. And yes, he’s in a tent rather than a kitchen, and yes, there’s the hustle and bustle of camera crews and other bakers around him, but it’s just baking. It’s just the same Victoria sponge he used to make for his mum every year on her birthday, when they’d each decorate one for her and she’d look at them all and puzzle over it before she declared them all the best decorators.

The first Royal Tour arrives before any of them are really ready for it. Henry sees Amy frantically cleaning a few things off her station as the judges come to stand in front of him. He’s seen this bit a million times, but it feels surreal to actually be the one in the spotlight.

“I’m Henry; I’m making some Victoria sponges. When we were kids, we used to make them with my dad, and all three of us kids would decorate them for our Mum.”

“Did you have to fight it out to have the best cake?” Noel asks, and Henry laughs.

“She’d always say we were all her favorite.”

“Bit simple, isn’t it?” Paul asks, and Henry’s heart is in his throat.

“I was hoping to do something where my nerves wouldn’t get in the way as much, at least for the first bake,” he explains, and Sandi smiles.

“Well, I think that if you do it well, something like this will really show us what you can do,” Prue says, and as they move on, Henry thanks every saint he’s ever disappointed that at least she’s on his side.

He has a second after he puts the cakes in when he can look around to see how everyone else is doing, and he sees an explosion of color on Pez’s station. Across the aisle from him, he sees a personal assistant named Zahra with a station he swears is neater than his was when they started. Nora is in front of him, checking things off a complex spreadsheet while surrounded by chaos, and somewhere, he thinks Alex might be swearing in Spanish.

After a second to breathe, Henry starts on his jam and buttercream, keeping an eye on his mini cakes. He’s making more than they used to with his dad, but even so, it feels just as familiar and comfortable.

The fillings come together, and then he gives himself a half second to check them before he’s on to assembling, setting a single raspberry in the middle of each cake and carefully piping designs on the tops. Noel announces that they have one minute left, and Henry gets everything on the end of his bench and leans back as they finish counting down.

Just like that, the first bake is over, and the bakers file out to rest. This is the part where the TV element of the show takes over; their bakes are going to get their beauty shots and the bakers are going to be interviewed. Hunter gets pulled first, so Henry gets to flop down onto the couch. Pez settles beside him, automatically resting a hand on Henry’s knee, and it turns out that he’s used a colorful mirror glaze and real flowers, either of which could have been the colors Henry saw. He asks about Nora’s spreadsheet, and she shows it to him, covered in frosting and batter and marking out what she should be doing every ten minutes.

When everything’s ready for them, the bakers traipse back into the tent, all quiet and nervous as they face their first round of judging. As much as Henry is trying to pay attention to everyone else’s comments, he’s too nervous to focus on much aside from the occasional word until the judges are in front of him.

He’s smiling, doing his best to relax as they take a bite. Paul reiterates that his cakes are simple, but says they’re perfectly done, and Prue agrees with him. Henry grins, finally feeling like he can breathe as he sits down. Behind him, Cash gets compliments on his flavors and the unique designs. Alex is next, and Henry hears them compliment his cake, but complain that it’s a bit claggy, which he’d been worried about. As they file out for lunch, Henry manages to get beside Alex and ask how it went, but Alex just shrugs.

“I made a damn good tres leches; if they thought it was a weird texture I’m not too upset about it. I mean, obviously I’m not thrilled, but you know. It was the type of cake they didn’t like, not my version of it. So it’s not, you know, that I’m bad at baking or anything, at least not really. This table look good?” Henry nods and sits, which is how he finds himself at a table with Nora, Pez, Alex, and Hunter, who turns out to be both very talkative and intensely boring.

Alex is across from Henry, and whenever they make eye contact, Alex makes a face, quietly mocking Hunter. Henry smiles, and he nods when Hunter says things, but it’s nice to know he’s not the only one bored with Hunter’s rambling. Alex is on his side, both in and out of the tent, and that’s nice to know, too, especially going into the technical.

Henry’s been trying to avoid thinking about it, but the technical’s been in the back of his mind. He’s done what he can to prepare for it, but he has no idea what to expect. Still, Alex will be baking near him, and Zahra will be across from him, and she seems like the sort of person who will know what’s happening if he gets really lost and needs to see what she’s up to. It’ll be alright.

They file back to the tent as lunch ends, and Henry takes a deep breath as he settles behind his bench, tying the apron. It’s just this technical, then they’ll be getting dinner together and spending time in the hotel, probably talking about the loved ones they’re making their showstopper cakes for. Henry is more than ready to talk about Bea and how much he loves her, and he wonders briefly who Alex is making a cake for. He’s been so focused on worrying about the technical that he hasn’t gotten a chance to know the other bakers as well as he hopes, but maybe that chance will come over a dinner with the bakers he’s starting to become friends with.

He tries to think about that instead of the gingham-clad mystery pile in front of him. There are ingredients for something under that fabric, but he can’t know what, and it’s not going to help to try and guess. He just takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the judges’ advice instead.

As it turns out, Prue’s advice is just to read closely, which is about as helpful as telling them to remember to breathe or that cakes need sugar. That’s all they get before the judges step out, and Noel has a joke about their figure skating class before Sandi announces the dish they’ve been tasked with.

They’re making something called nut cake. Henry thinks he may have heard of it once, and the cake itself seems fairly simple. The icing for it looks a bit more complicated, but that’s an issue for Future Henry. The cake is a problem for right now, and it’s not nearly as much of a problem as he thought it might be. And right now, Henry’s just baking, falling into the routine of reading a new recipe and figuring things out. He and Bea have been practicing technicals for weeks now, and he’s been reading old recipes for years so he can bake things appropriate for different plays he’s working on. As it turns out, deciphering them has helped him get ready for figuring out pared down modern ones.

Behind him, he hears Jeffrey, a man he’s not particularly close to, panicking.

Zahra seems in control, and while there are varying degrees of panic happening around him, everyone else seems relatively calm.

Nora’s workstation is a mess, as is Pez’s, but they and some of the other messy bakers seem like they’ll thrive in that mess. By contrast, Jeffrey’s mess just looks like mess.

But as much as he cares for the other bakers, Henry does his best to ignore them, at least for now. He tries to just concentrate on his own cake, even if it demands less concentration than he might have guessed. Even as they shift to icing, it’s far from the hardest thing he’s ever baked. The judges might be easing them into the technicals, but Henry’s glad for it. As the final seconds tick down, he’s drizzling the icing on his cake, and as he steps back he declares it ‘good enough’.

Carrying it up to the table and setting it behind his picture feels surreal, especially surrounded by the other bakers doing the same. He’s seen it on TV a million times, but somehow, doing it himself still sends a slight shiver down his spine. His cake doesn’t look bad compared to the others, and as he’s filing out to take a break with the rest of the bakers, he gets a glimpse at Jeffrey’s. It doesn’t look iced. In their resting area, Henry learns that he’s afraid it’s underbaked; apparently he’d forgotten to add nuts to his first one and had to restart with barely any time left.

As much as Henry hates to see anyone upset, a tiny, tiny part of him is relieved. He doesn’t want to come last in the technical, especially not the first one. They’re called back into the tent once it’s clean, and as they file onto the stools, Henry is sandwiched between Shaan and Alex. Alex grabs his hand; his cake is on the end where they’ll start the tasting and he’s pretty clearly worried. Henry just gives his hand a squeeze as the judges try his cake, and when they move on, Alex doesn’t stop squeezing, so Henry keeps a tight hold through the whole thing.

It is, by far, the worst part of the day. The deliberation about cakes is too quiet to hear, and it seems to take forever, but then they’ve decided. Alex is squeezing Henry’s hand so hard he thinks his fingers might go numb as the judges step forward to announce the results of the first technical challenge this group of bakers have ever faced.

Jeffrey comes in last. Alex is fourth, and to his shock, Henry comes in first. He’s not sure what to think, but he knows he has to call Bea as soon as he can. He has to thank her for how much she’s done to test him and get him ready for this part of the competition. Alex pulls him into a hug almost immediately, and Henry grins as Cash, a stay at home dad who seems great, joins in. They get pulled aside for more interviews, and Henry gets to be really, really excited without having to worry about hurting or offending anyone else, but even on the bus back, even as he tries to keep it toned down a bit so as not to upset anyone, he can’t quite help his grin.

He calls Bea that night from the hotel room, because really, he can’t think of anything else to do with these emotions. She picks up on the first ring.

“Henry! You did so well! I knew you would.” Just hearing her voice is enough to pull some of the tension out of his shoulders, and he laughs a bit.

“I never… god, it was a lot, but I… I did it.”

“You did it! And you got first in technical; I’m so proud of you. Dad would be, too, I know it.”

He just smiles, talking to her until there’s a knock on his door, and Pez is there to invite him out for dinner with some of the other contestants. Bea tells him to go have fun, and he finishes getting changed, then finds Pez, Alex, Nora, and a reporter named Oliver at the hotel bar. Alex is talking about a family friend he’s planning to make a cake for tomorrow, about how they’ve been friends since his dad took Raf in when his coming out didn’t go well. They’d had a tradition of birthday cookies, but Raf was used to cakes, so he’s the only one they make cake for. He’s planning a big cake decorated with cookies, just like they’d always done.

Henry gets to talk about how much he loves Bea, then a student named Liam joins them and hesitantly talks about how his boyfriend’s parents’ anniversary was last week, so he’s replicating the cake he made them. Pez demands a picture of Liam and his boyfriend, and they all get to admire how cute they are while Liam blushes. Pez moans that he and his partner will never be that cute, and he uses the word ‘partner’, which makes Liam relax a bit and makes Henry grin as a wave of quiet warmth washes over him. Even though he’d known that people would probably be fine if he came out, it’s nice to know he wouldn’t be alone if he did. Seeing Liam and Spencer’s pictures, and hearing that Pez probably isn’t straight (though honestly, he’d piqued Henry’s gaydar early on), helps quiet the part of him that’s worried.

Apparently Liam was the only one they were waiting for, so Pez leads the way to a nearby restaurant. Shaan and Zahra are there already, and they wave them over. The eight of them end up monopolizing a corner booth, filling the table with good food and the benches with good conversations. Zahra’s planning a baby shower cake for her sister, and Shaan’s planning one as a test for his parents’ renewal of vows. They finish dinner and go to bed relatively early, knowing they’ve got an early call tomorrow, but Henry goes to bed feeling better about the showstopper than he ever could have imagined.

It’s him and Shaan downstairs early the next day, and they make small talk and text their families while they wait for the others to come down. It’s a nice way to wake up, and Henry’s already starting to get used to this routine, to morning conversations about Shaan’s museum over tea and coffee. Shaan offers to give him a tour of the archives if he comes to visit, and Henry promises to take him up on that next time he’s in Edinburgh. Even that feels nice, to plan to see each other again after this is all over, and to know that even if he goes home this week, he’ll have made at least one friend.

The other bakers trickle down as Henry and Shaan are finishing their tea, and it’s not long before they’re all there, loading into the minibus and heading off to the tent to make cakes for their loved ones. Henry’s planning one shaped like a guitar for Bea, using a sponge recipe similar to the one they’d made with their dad but flavored especially for her. It’s the one bake he hasn’t practiced with her around, the only one she’s never tried in full. He wants her to be surprised when she watches the show.

He tells Paul and Prue about having lied about his plans to her when they come on the royal tour, and it makes Paul laugh, which is a relief from his regular stoicness. Prue tells him it’s sweet, Noel asks if there’s anything else he’d like to confess to lying to her about, and Henry honestly admits to having never lied to Bea in any other circumstance, and then they’re moving on. Behind him, Henry hears Cash talk about making a cake with layers for each of his kids, and he can’t help but grin. He’ll have to take a peek at that cake when decorating time comes.

His own cake is going well. He’s been playing it safe this week, and he knows that, but at least that means that he doesn’t have to worry about anything too hard. He’s made each of these cakes for Bea before, and he made a guitar cake for her last birthday. The hardest part is the assembly. He’s decided to have the guitar stand upright, probably because he’s an idiot, so the last two hours of the bake is entirely dedicated to carefully, carefully stacking cakes on top of each other and carving them into the right shape. He’s planning a mirror glaze, both because it will mimic the shine of Bea’s guitar and because he’s an idiot who likes to use every second of their allotted time and stress himself out as he does. He’s sure he’ll have time, but he’s making a brown fondant just in case.

He’s just getting his fondant-covered cake in the freezer when he hears Alex swear behind him, and he doesn’t even think before he turns to see what’s wrong. Alex has a decorative cake tin, and he’s frantically tapping it on a baking sheet. Henry goes over to his bench, and he can feel a camera following him as he asks, “How can I help?”

“Just… it won’t come out.”

“Did you run a knife around the middle? Try that.”

There’s a tense silence as Alex does. Henry’s holding his breath.

Alex flips the cake over again, shaking it up and down a few times on the baking sheet. Henry can just hear the thunk as it falls, and Alex lets out a shaky breath as he pulls the tin off. The cake emerges, looking complete, and Alex grins. Henry grins back, and Alex thanks him as he picks up a piping bag. Henry turns back to his own bench as Alex says, “Hey, if you need me to drop this on the floor, I still will.”

Henry just laughs as he goes back to his own bench. As he goes around Cash’s, Cash says, “Hey, either of you are welcome to drop anything on the floor as long as it’s not mine. Amy looks pretty confident over there.”

Alex tosses the top of a strawberry onto the ground behind Cash’s bench, and Cash laughs, and Henry starts on his mirror glaze infinitely less worried than he would have been otherwise.

He’s pulled shortbread decorations out of the oven and drizzled his mirror glaze over the cake when Noel calls the two minute warning, and his piping of the strings is a bit sloppy, but when he steps back he can barely believe he’s done it. It’s a bit messy, but it looks like a guitar, and he knows Bea would be thrilled with it. Really, that’s all that matters. He’s feeling good about it, but when he turns and sees Cash’s cake, he knows he’s lost any shot at star baker. It’s a towering beauty, each layer individually decorated with castles, jungles, and pirate ships.

Cash brushes aside their compliments, but when Henry asks about the kids, he starts talking about each of them, rambling and rambling as they leave the tent for their break. Henry just grins and listens as Cash’s excitement completely overwhelms any worry Henry might be feeling. Instead of thinking about if his cakes are too dry or if something is wrong with his fondant, Henry gets to look at pictures of Cash’s kids and husband and dog. It makes for a fantastic distraction while they wait for the tent to be cleaned up, and Henry wonders briefly just how many more people he can ask about pets or kids while they wait.

Cash rambles about his family through most of their break, and Henry is happy to just sit back and listen. Cash is clearly a good dad, and he’s more than happy to ramble about his son’s ballet recital or his daughter’s favorite cookie recipe throughout the entire cleaning period and photoshoot.

He’s still talking about his kids as they photographers finish up, so Henry gets to focus on that instead of worrying as they settle behind the benches for the final time that day. Henry is too far back to hear what the judges are saying to anyone else, but he watches Hunter’s and Jeffrey’s shoulders slump, watches Prue smile at Cash and Oliver, and he grins when Pez brings a rainbow explosion past his bench. Pez just winks as Henry laughs a bit.

Then it’s his turn, and he’s carefully carrying the cake up. It looks good; recognizably an electric guitar leaning against an amp. The judges like the flavors and the look, but it is dry. He’d been afraid of that; he’d been making fondant while it baked, and left it in a bit too long. Still, over all, it’s positive. Alex gives him a thumbs up as he carries the cake back, and Cash smiles at him. It’s not a bad cake, and he’s done well in the technical. He’s probably going to be back next week, and that’s good enough for now.

He does his best to focus on the others’ comments, but this far back it isn’t easy. It feels a bit like playing telephone as the bakers closer to the front say things like we’ve all had dry cakes or I heard good things. Reactions seem to be pretty varied across the board, and it doesn’t seem like Henry’s the only one who’s not done his best, but this far back he has no real idea.

The judges and hosts leave to make a decision, and the bakers are left to mill around the tent before eventually settling on the stools at the front. Alex is beside Henry again, and he grabs Henry’s hand as the judges and hosts come out. He’s had a good bake, and done decently in the technical, but nothing’s guaranteed in the tent.

Cash gets star baker, surprising no one but himself. His showstopper pushed him over the top, just like Henry knew it would, and he’s thrilled to get to reach over and squeeze Cash’s shoulder to congratulate him. His husband and kids are going to be so proud.

Then comes the hard part. Alex is squeezing Henry’s hand so hard it’s turning white.

Sandi opens her mouth.

“Jeffrey.”

Alex drops Henry’s hand and gives him a little half-embarrassed smile, and Henry has just enough time for half a thought about how he hopes he and Alex stay on the show. He refuses to let himself think on that, just gives Cash a big hug and gets through their final interviews. He tells the interviewer that he’s not surprised Cash got it, because he really deserves it, and that he’ll be glad to come back next week. Cash joins them again while he’s on the phone with his husband and kids, and he’s beaming as he talks and they load into the minibus.

It’s a strange atmosphere on the bus. Jeffrey’s upset to be going home, but Henry can’t seem to find it in himself to be all that sad. He’s staying, and so are Alex and Shaan and Pez. He gets to come back and bake with his friends next week, and as much as going home sucks for Jeffrey, Henry can’t find any particular grief about it.

They only have a few minutes to get their bags together before they’re heading back to the train station. Henry says goodbye to Alex, Pez, and the others, then calls Bea as he slips his ticket into the slot. The train is already on the platform, and he finds an empty table and slides into it, still talking as he pulls his laptop out to get some work done. He’s just hanging up with her when someone slides into the seat across from him.

“Anyone sitting here?” Alex asks with a smile. Henry smiles back, shaking his head.

“Hello.”

“Hey. Good job in there today; that guitar looked great.”

“Looked great, tasted dry. Yours looked good, too; I’m sure your family friend would have loved it.”

“Thanks. I needed it to be good after that tres leches disaster yesterday.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t have to drop anything on the floor,” Henry says, and Alex grins.

“Me too.” Alex pulls out a laptop, but even as he opens it, he seems no less willing to end the conversation. “And, if I’m honest, I know this is meant to be the most wholesome experience and all, but I’m sort of glad Jeffrey’s gone.” He’s leaning across the table conspiratorially, and Henry finds himself leaning forward, too. “He rubbed me weird.”

“He… he sort of rubbed me weird, too. If it had to be someone, I’m glad it was him.”

They share another conspiratorial smile, and Alex says, “Exactly. Like maybe he’s fine, but I’d rather him than someone else. I’d rather him than you or Nora or Pez any day.”

“He was just so…” Henry’s not quite sure what he wants to say, but Alex is nodding.

“Yeah. If it had to be someone, I’m glad it was him.”

He’s finally turning his attention to his laptop, making an excuse about a paper he’s got to work on, so Henry turns back to his own work with a small smile, his leg occasionally brushing Alex’s. They both get drinks when the cart comes, tea for Henry and coffee for Alex, and Alex pays for both, promising that Henry can get it next time.

Next time, because there will be a next time.

When he meets Bea at the station that night, he’s not quite sure how to tell her about Alex, but she seems to know what to think, even if Henry doesn’t.

On AO3

When I started this fic back in February, I had no idea how much the world might need it come October. But here we are, and here it is! Ten chapters of gay baking! That I hope y'all love!

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As always, if you want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund, you can tip me in ko-fi here! And if you want to support the Emry-Makes-Art fund, they’ve got commissions up on their blog!

[lyssismagical]

we swapped our smiles, gifted advice

Parkner Week Day Five: “He ordered one black coffee for himself and kept driving.” / irondad / parents au

 Tony doesn’t get to babysit very often. Living so far out of the way in the cabin, already dealing with one child, he’s not the first choice very often as a babysitter. Whenever it’s only for a couple hours, they have a babysitter in the same building they’ll pay, and whenever it’s overnight or longer, they’ll let May have the kids.

Tony really only gets to see his children and grandchildren is if it’s at the same time. For holidays or birthdays or anniversaries or whenever he begs them to spend a weekend at the cabin.

This weekend is one of those times.

Harley and Peter take their three children up to the cabin on Friday night, planning on staying until Sunday afternoon. Morgan’s home too, now sixteen, and misses the family like crazy whenever they spend months away, too busy to make trips down to the cabin with all of them. She’s decided that when she leaves for college, she’s hoping to go to NYU, she’ll become the permanent babysitter for their kids.

Their oldest is five, Elizabeth. One of their mutual friends got pregnant, but couldn’t keep the baby, so they offered to take her in. The other two are twins, June and Ben, surrogate kids, who just turned three.

Between the three young kids’ schedules, especially now that Lizzie’s started kindergarten, their careers as co-owners of SI, and superheroing, it’s nearly impossible to find weekends they can all take off.

Harley makes it to the door first, grinning brightly with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s holding June on his hip, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets Pepper take her from him. She doesn’t seem too bothered, but Peter makes it through the door pouting with an angry Elizabeth on one side, an uncaring Ben on the other side. 

“What happened?” Pepper sighs exasperatedly.

Peter rolls his eyes, shooting a glare at Harley. “We wanted to get Macdonald’s. We all wanted fries or milkshakes. Harley was driving. Do you want to tell them what you did?”

Elizabeth pipes up from where she’s got her head tucked in the crook of Peter’s neck. “He ordered one black coffee for himself and kept driving.”

“Nice one,” Tony says, lifting his hand to high-five Harley. At Peter’s scoff, he moves forward and takes Ben off him so he can put Elizabeth on the floor too before moving into the house to close the door behind him. They’ve left their suitcase in the car for now, not having enough hands.

“Hey, bug,” Peter murmurs, seemingly forgetting about his previous sadness. He tugs Morgan into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How’s high school treating you?”

Morgan smiles, corners of her eyes crinkling. “Good, it’s really good. And before you ask, no, nobody’s treating me badly, nobody’s mean to me, I’m not hiding anything from you, and I’m still very much single.”

“Acing all your classes?”

“You know it.”

Elizabeth, still hanging onto Peter’s jeans, lets go in favor of grabbing onto the hem of Morgan’s shirt. Morgan tries to pretend she doesn’t have a favourite between her nieces and nephews, but she’s got a particularly soft spot for Elizabeth.

Morgan scoops her up, peppering her nose, cheeks, and forehead in raspberries and kisses. “I’ve missed you, Liz. You ready for a weekend of fun with your favourite aunt?”  

Careful of everyone gathered in the foyer, Peter moves to the side where Harley’s leaning against the wall, sipping his coffee, to step into his arms. He slips into Harley’s awaiting arm, leaning his head against Harley’s shoulder and accepts the coffee when offered.

“You excited?” he asks, ducking his head to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “We get to sleep in tomorrow!”

Peter laughs, leaning heavier against Harley like just the mention of sleep is enough to make him feel exhausted. There’s been a lot of late nights and early mornings and no time to catch up. It’s no wonder they’re tired, CEO’s of a multibillion-dollar company, parents to three under the age of six, and Spider-Man to balance.

“I’m so happy to be back here again, we need to make this trip out more often,” Peter murmurs, pressing his lips to Harley’s jaw quickly.

“Next trip we make has to be Tennessee. I know you said we’d wait to take the twins on a plane, but Mom’s starting to freak out because she hasn’t met them yet. Abbie’s going to be back home in a couple months, maybe we should match up our trips.”

Peter laughs, looking over at where Morgan’s dancing with Elizabeth on her feet. June and Ben’s watching with wide eyes, and Morgan promises she’ll dance with them too.

“Abbie has to fight for her title as favourite Aunt. We need to get the whole family together too. Maybe this Christmas we’ll do a party, pay for Mom and Abbie to come out here,” Peter suggests, lifting an eyebrow tiredly. “That way, Abbie and Morgan can duke it out in person.”

The younger girl looks over with a glare. “I’ll win. I fight dirty.”

“Abbie fights dirty too. Don’t forget she grew up in Rose Hill, she spent most of high school getting into fist fights behind the school like I did.���

Peter opens his mouth to join the argument, but June lets out a whine before he can, squirming in Pepper’s arms. He sighs and pulls away from Harley’s chest to take the toddler back.

“It’s not really babysitting if you won’t let us help,” Pepper says, but she hands June over nonetheless. June’s a shy kid, so she doesn’t talk much to strangers. Ben and Elizabeth are both much louder and chatterboxes like their dads.

June presses her face against Peter’s chest, little hands curling into his shirt. “Hey, sweetie. You getting a bit overwhelmed?”

Harley presses his chest against Peter’s back, kisses his temple and then turns to the rest of the family. “What do you say we get dinner going and then a movie?”

“I could use a hand or two in the kitchen,” Pepper says, nudging her husband and then giving Harley a pointed look.

The three of them head off without a question, leaving Peter and Morgan with the three kids.

“How’s parenting treating you?” Morgan asks, lifting Ben onto the couch and patting the cushion on her other side for Elizabeth to sit. Peter falls into the armchair, June curled up on his lap.

Peter yawns, finally letting his muscles relax. “Lizzie being in school is a gamechanger, but don’t let people fool you, it’s hard. I have no idea how May did it. If I didn’t have Harley, I think I would’ve lost my head a long time ago.”

“Can you be honest about something?” Morgan’s voice goes serious, eyebrows furrowing, making an identical expression to one Peter’s seen on Tony hundreds of times. “Are you going to give up Spider-Man?”

“Why? Do you want me to?”

Morgan shrugs, swallowing thickly. She looks down at Ben who’s playing with the string on his sweater, so small and innocent. “I just worry. About you, about Harley, about your kids… Do you not think about what could happen?”

He pauses for a second, not wanting to give her an answer off the top of his head.

He’s thought about it before, but he tries not to. It hurts to think about the possibilities. He grew up without his parents, he lost his uncle, he spent a long time scared that May would be taken from him too, he got awfully close to losing Tony. He was drowning in grief for years of his life, he’s dealt with a lot.

And he knows the consequences. He knows that one wrong move out in his suit would leave Elizabeth, Ben, and June without a second parent, without their Dad. It would leave Morgan without her brother, May without a kid, Tony and Pepper without a son. It would leave Harley on his own. Harley would lose his husband, his best friend, his second half. He knows the kind of stress he’s put Harley under because of Spider-Man.

But if he doesn’t go out, it’s risking a lot.

There would be daughters and sons who wouldn’t make it home to their parents. There would be husbands, parents, who wouldn’t make it back to their family.

He can’t even imagine what it would feel like to lose a child. If he can stop that, he has to try.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he settles on eventually. “I know what I have to lose, and I will do everything in my power to make it home to them. I wouldn’t do anything to put me too close to harm. I know my limits. But I can’t leave New York to fend for itself. I can’t, in good conscience, leave the little guys.”

Morgan frowns like it’s not the answer she expected. “I almost lost Dad because he’s a superhero. He gave it up for us. He retired to make sure none of us would go through that.”

“Do you really think he wouldn’t put on a suit if the world was in danger? Do you think he’ll stay side-lined forever?”

June snuffles against his chest, little fist lifting up to touch his jaw and mouth before falling back to his shirt. Elizabeth’s eyes are on him, face set in concentration and hands fiddling in her lap. “Daddy?”

Blinking back sudden tears, Peter focuses on his oldest daughter. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you going to leave?” She looks too worried for a five-year-old. It’s one of those things that would haunt Peter forever if she felt like she was going to lose her dad. If he made any close calls. This is what he’s fighting for.

“No, honey, Daddy’s just fine. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Morgan seems to see just how close Peter is to breaking, and guilt immediately floods her eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, I just- I guess, I just worry about you. Do you need a second? I’ll watch them if you want-”

He nods quickly, definitely needing a second to stop seeing that future. The possible future of these wonderful children growing up knowing loss and grief and pain like he did. He quickly shifts June onto Morgan’s lap, bending down to kiss both girls’ foreheads and promising his children that he’ll be back in a second.

As soon as he can, he ducks into the kitchen where Tony’s make a bad dad joke, and Harley’s cracking open a bottle of wine, and Pepper’s cutting vegetables, looking properly like a family.

“Harley?” Peter says, voice thick and shaky even to his own ears. Immediately, all three sets of eyes are on him, and he knows he must look like a mess already. “Could I talk to you for a second?”

His wonderful husband, all wide-eyed with worry and hushed tone, leads him down the hall to their bedroom where they’ll be staying, Peter’s old room. As soon as he shuts the door he asks the question, “What happened?”

“Morgan asked why I haven’t retired from Spider-Man.”

They’ve had enough talks, enough breakdowns, enough arguments, to know the heaviness and the meaning of the words. It’s been something Peter’s been struggling with for a while. Ever since they took in Elizabeth, Peter’s been weighing the pros and cons.

“Darlin’,” Harley says gently, arms encircling his waist and drawing them close. “We’ve got the weekend off, you don’t have to think about-”

“I want to give it up,” Peter says, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself yet. It’s so true, it hurts, but he needs to say it. He needs to be honest with himself and with Harley.

Harley frowns, bending just enough to look at Peter in the eyes properly. “What?”

“I want to give Spider-Man up, I’m just scared that New York won’t be safe if I’m not there. Whenever I go out, I can’t stop thinking about not coming home to you, and I can’t do that.” His voice breaks and he curls his hands around his husband’s biceps to ground himself. “I don’t want you or our kids to have to worry about my life every day. I don’t want there to be a possibility that our children grow up without me.”

“Okay, take a breath, if that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen. We’ll find someone else to look out for the city. We’ll figure it out,” Harley soothes. “If you want to hang up Spider-Man, you can. Nobody will stop you.”

Peter finally lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and relaxes into Harley’s hold. “I know what it’s like to lose parents, to lose people, I know what it’s like and I don’t want to do that to them, to you.”

There’s a knock on the door and they both look over to see Tony leaning against the doorframe.

Harley offers a half-smile, tightening his hold on Peter. “I suppose you want to give your advice?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Tony says. “Less grey hair for me, at the very least. I’ll get in touch with Wilson and Barnes, and the Young Avengers program. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Love you, dad,” Peter mumbles, smiling against Harley’s shoulder. “I’ll love you even more if you want to watch your grandkids tomorrow and let me and Harley sleep till noon? Maybe even take the whole family to the zoo?”

Tony scoffs. “And leave you two in the house by yourself? I don’t think so.”

“We’re married adults now, Tony. I can’t believe you still pretend we don’t have-”

Tony, forever the mature adult he is, plugs his ears and starts humming loudly, backing out of the room. “You’re coming to the zoo with us!”

Harley laughs, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple. “Please tell me we’re cooler parents than Tony.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[charlthotte]

Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 14

Rising on the cool Tuesday morning, I couldn't curtail a sense of joyous anticipation, as that very day I would leave for our practice match in Tokyo. However, as I scanned over the contents of my overnight bag - a tiny sliver of timorousness crept inside my mind: I simply couldn't help thinking of the worst. What if Shiro would leave us while we were away? Relentlessly, I tried to shrink those thoughts to the back of my head - but only to a slight avail, as that thought lingered, latched onto my fibres of being.

Capering down the stairs, I was greeted by the warm smile of my pyjama-clad father. Obviously, he had only recently arisen from the depths of slumber - his hair ruffled by the happenings of the night - his glasses laying skewed upon the bridge of his nose. "Hey, kiddo!" He spoke joyously, holding his arms out wide, "How are we feeling today?"

A humble meal stood on the table in front of me, a simple breakfast - nothing more. "Morning, Dad. I think I'm okay, a bit nervous at that"

"Don't be nervous! You get to spend a whole night in Tokyo of all places!" He hesitated, taking in my anxious aura, "I'm sure everything will go along just beautifully, be hopeful, kiddo." Smiling goofily, he bounded towards me - wrapping my body in an over-zealous bear hug - almost throttling me.

Sighing, I replied, "I'll try, thanks Dad"

We ate breakfast, chatting nonchalantly until I had no choice but to depart. Bidding me a heartfelt goodbye, hugging me until I was close to imploding. As I walked away, my luggage on tow - he waved and hollered feverishly, a stream of 'Goodbyes' and "I love yous' cascading from between his lips. I laughed at his antics, equalling his words but in a less incandescent manner. Even if the trip would only span one night, I'd still miss him nonetheless.

Upon arriving at the train station, little time passed before my train cruised along the tracks before me - and per usual - Takanobu was situated in his usual seat, seeming much more tranquil compared to the prior day. No longer was his face as troubled, yet it still harnessed an essence of anxiousness - but for an understandable reason. Neither of us felt the need to greet each other - simply acknowledging the other's presence as we always did. However, as we departed the carriage in tandem - a certain somebody laid his grievances bare, "(Y/N), do you think Shiro will be okay?"

"I hope he will be, but I can't really say much more."

"Can you be sure?" With saying that, his voice broke slightly - only highlighting his demeanour of worry.

Sighing, I paused, unsure of how to answer what he had asked, "Truthfully, we can't be sure. We have to hope for the best - nothing more, nothing less." Hopeless words, they were - but I couldn't offer him anything more.

"Okay..." He let out a shaky, breathless laugh, "I'll try. Thanks, (Y/N)."

"Don't mention it, it's not something worthy of thanks." And with that, he didn't care to speak afterwards - letting both of us fall into a revelling pit of gaucheness. Even during classes and breaks, that silence carried on until the coach journey to Tokyo as school ended. Somehow, even Futakuchi managed to not break a word.

The drive was to take a gruelling four hours of doing hardly anything. Occasionally, I would give directions to Coach Oiwake, the rest of my time being occupied by a book, as always. That was, until I felt a sudden jolt ricochet through the back of my seat - which of course, was gifted graciously by the grimace sat behind me. "Your Majestyyyyy, how long until we get thereeee?"` Futakuchi whined like a little kid, pursing out his bottom lip - mimicking a needy baby.

Behind me, sat Futakuchi and Takanobu - the prior jesting his usual jests and the latter; gazing out of the window, his eyes travelling along the road - occasionally latching onto a building or animal in the background. "Just under two and a half hours. That's if there aren't any mishaps."

"Well that sucks, I guess I'll just take a nap, then." He declared, reclining in his seat - letting his legs fall underneath my chair. Immediately, he kicked his head backwards, clamping his eyes shut, "So don't be too rowdy, you two." Falling silent after his sarcastic articulation. Feeling no apparent need to reply to him, I buried my senses back into my book, wishing for the ride to terminate.

Hardly any time had passed before the faint sounds of Futakuchi snoring rang out through the faint buzz of the team's chatter. However, little after that - a scheming Kamasaki crept up behind his chair - his eyes twinkling with devilish delight. The Machiavellian jumped from where he stood, severely startling the slumbering teen. That was when the environment gained an intense ambiance of chaos. Futakuchi screaming a slew of obscenities at his attacker, the latter defending himself relentlessly, explaining how the whole ordeal was simply a bit of friendly banter. Every other member of the team - in some way - was trying to make the conflict die down. However, with one single glance from Takanobu - Futakuchi immediately curtailed his fighting spirit - becoming a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

"Now... Everyone leave me alone. Please and thank you" He declared curtly, a scorn scowl taking residence upon his face.

Not a single objection was made to that statement, everyone staying silent in trepidation of catalysing another ruckus. The situation pretty much stayed like that for the rest of the drive there - except from the odd 'Shut up' coming from Futakuchi's mouth. Yet, it was still far from peaceful - the constant murmur of voices in the background, distracting me from my novel.

As we arrived at our accommodation for the night, I could sense the team's excitement rising - even if the practice match was early in the next morning. Even the grimace's cocky exterior had shifted and let a ray of giddiness outwards. A rare sight to say the least.

Most of the team rushed into the inn, not paying attention to their rowdiness that was highly apparent to every person passing by. Their escapades were swiftly ushered away by a sighing Moniwa, commanding them to calm their turbulence.

The scene surrounding me was purely picturesque, it certainly wasn't something that you would expect from being in a mostly modern region of Tokyo. A serene, little river trickled down the side of the narrow road - endowed with numerous water lilies of various hues of white and pink. The water flowing through it was rather dark, yet somehow comforting - as you couldn't see just how deep you were falling in. Standing sturdily over the stream, was a bridge - made of many differing stones - each one a different shape, colour and consistency to the next. Adorning the river's surroundings - were flora and foliage - offering a natural touch to its metropolitan environment. I could have sat, gazing at that sight for hours on end; something about it felt weirdly nostalgic and comforting - as if it held some sort of importance to me.

However, that could never be the case, as I followed the rest of the team into our rooms. Being the manager, I had the privilege of having a room to myself, as sharing a room with any member of the team would have surely been catastrophic. 

At that time, the mid-evening sky had begun to grow a relaxing shade of scarlet - wispy clouds floating through it. There was no apparent need for food, seeing as though everyone had eaten on the drive there - so I laid on my futon, a book in hand. Dappled light shone through the window panes - casting light in peculiar patterns across the floor. Shadows swam across the walls, twirling along with the wind. Perhaps Tokyo wasn't going to be that bad after all...

A sudden knock on the door echoed through the room, "Come in." I said reflexively. The hinges creaked shrilly, as the unknown figure made its way passed the doorway. My instincts told me that Takanobu would be standing there - but alas, it was the fawn-haired Futakuchi, wearing a padded, navy jacket and a grey scarf draped around his neck.

"So, (Y/N). Aone and I were wondering if you'd like to go on a little stroll with us? And, don't worry - Coach Oiwake already said we were okay to do so." Futakuchi asked, seemingly out of his little tantrum from earlier.

Taken aback, I stood up from my futon, smoothing down my clothes, "Oh... Uh, Sure - I guess." Hurling on my coat and shoes as I exited the room. It seemed strange that Futakuchi was asking me to do such a thing - especially since he called me by my name, instead of some stupid nickname - after all, he had never expressed interest in socialising normally with me.

Briefly, I made eye contact with Takanobu, only for him to avert his gaze instantly - a nervous disposition on his face, as he looked down to the floor - his hands fiddling with something inside his pockets.

Sensing the awkward air, Futakuchi attempted to start a conversation, "Where do you guys want to go? I was thinking of following that river to see where it goes, is that fine with you two?"

Neither of us offered any opposition to his suggestion, Takanobu only nodded - while I hummed a little sound of affirmation. I didn't have anything better to do. It didn't take long before Futakuchi started talking about the most random things - trying not to be awkward himself, "Sooooooo, (Y/N), how different is Miyagi to Hokkaido?"

"Well, the different dialects were strange at first. But it is nice not seeing snow all the time, life near the Kitami mountains wasn't exactly... Perfect."

Awkwardly laughing, Futakuchi carried on with the small talk, as if he was trying to stall, "I guess so. Why did you move here though?"

"My mother had a promotion, and that meant that we had to move here." I replied, nonchalantly - perplexed by his sudden 'interest' in my life. And for the next half hour or so, he kept asking questions - some generic and some bizarre. It was slightly obvious that he didn't really care about my answers but instead, only used them as a method of delaying something. As that happened, Takanobu sauntered beside us - never uttering a word, but still fiddling with whatever object he was hiding inside of his pockets.

Abruptly, Futakuchi stopped dead in his tracks - as we had somehow arrived back at the bridge from before. The evening sky illuminated the water perfectly - as the waning sunlight hit each droplet of the river, it reflected back into my eyes. It almost sparkled. Each lily bobbed up and down in a majestic rhythm, acting as the river's heartbeat.

"Now, you two - I'll be heading back - so don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." The fawn-haired teen acquiesced, his usual aura becoming rather apparent. Smirking back to Takanobu and I while strolling back into the inn. 

As soon as Futakuchi disappeared behind the inn's doors, I felt a timid tap at my shoulder. Turning around, I was met with an equally timid Takanobu. He drew his hand out from his pocket, holding a flower - specifically a hydrangea. A flower that was used to show someone's gratitude for being understood by another. The flower's complexity would mirror that of the person giving it - and how the recipient learned to accept and understand that complexity, and maybe love them for it.

Immediately, Takanobu's face flushed over with a crimson wash - seemingly embarrassed by the gesture. But, I couldn't help but smile at the fact that he took the time to research into my interests, and use that knowledge to express the way he was feeling. To put it simply, I found it cute - adorable actually - the way that the man with the stoic and intimidating aura would appear so vulnerable in front of me. The inside of me was screaming with joy, that I tried my best to contain.

I held my right hand out to him, to indicate that I accepted his gesture - and as I took the flower from his, our hands brushed - only for an instant. His skin felt warm and clammy - as if his nervousness was running through his entire body.

 Through a bright smile, I began to speak, "Thank you, Takanobu. I'm happy that you can feel that way with me." A single tear of joy began to prick at my eye. Taking notice of that, Takanobu's arms scooped me into a comforting hug - without a single word.

Never before had I felt so unapologetically cheery. He was the first person to make me feel that way...

[willowistic22]

RedFinch sickfic 🥺?

The redfinch requests are fueling my serotonin you guys don’t even understand!!!! a very fluffy fic in my opinion and i quite like it. A few curse words but nothing too serious yknow. Anyways, i hope whoever’s reading this enjoys! 

Requests are still opened by the way! I have three more I got to write but I’d be happy taking more, though with a hectic school schedule it will take some time! 

He wraps himself in a big knitted blanket and lie in bed with minimal movements. A tissue box placed on the floor next to his bed with crumpled up tissues scattered around the floor along with it. Bedroom lights dimmed to accommodate his half-consciousness, not exactly sleepy but can’t stay awake either. 

Albert has his eyes fully closed but his mind on full swing. He’d much rather sleep through his discomfort, but the stuffy nose and headache makes it hard. His breathing is loud with so much liquid blocking his nostrils which makes it hard for Albert to breathe, another reason why it’s difficult for him to sleep. 

Though, he longs for sleep to envelop him. He was rustling under his blanket all night. Getting the flu isn’t an end of the world thing, though he knows it can get serious if it’s not treated right after getting millions of lectures from his mom, but Albert still think of it as a huge inconvenience. Sure, he got the chance to ditch his classes, but he’d much enjoy it if the reason behind it was something other than calling in sick. 

Al groans, furiously opening his eyes and rolling from his side to lie on his back. He stares at the ceiling, placing both hands on his stomach above the blanket. 

He really should be doing something. So far, he’s woken up early as per usual to get to his campus, thinking his flu was cured after taking some medicine before bed. As it turned out, it didn’t, so he had called in sick and barely moved out of his covers. He was able to drag himself to shower, which only took about two hours of convincing himself then he props himself back on his bed with clean clothes. 

Albert wants to ask one of his classmates what he missed from today’s lecture, but the energy to even reach to his phone is non existence. And its literally placed just across his tiny bedroom on the desk. Al could use some food since he hasn’t eaten anything today, but he has no appetite. There doesn’t seem to be any source of entertainment that would do good for him either so he’s left in his boredom. 

He exhales out of his mouth full of desperation, defeating the pointless weight on his eyelids. Al’s brain is desperately screaming at him to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen. Albert’s stomach would be very thankful to be given a slice of bread and some water. He just needs to muster up the energy to push through his exhaustion first.

“YO ALBO!” 

His bedroom door swung violently from a kick, the sound hitting the wall caused him to jump. As if the pain Albert’s head is feeling isn’t enough. 

Al’s head half sits up to see who decided to bother him with a sniffle, causing even more pain to his head. The light coming from the other room seems so bright, he can only see two silhouettes of people standing in the doorway. 

“How’re you feelin’ there?” A voice, he recognize to be his roommate Race, asked. Of course it’s Race who busts down his door. Why did he thought it’d be anyone else? 

“Like shit!” Al answered with a nasally voice and another sniffle following his words. 

“Well, you sure look like one!” Race replied, approaching Al on the bed. He turns back towards the doorway, gazing back at the other figure he’s with, “Your boyfriend’s here to take care of you. So don’t worry about me busting down your door again like that” 

Race walks away with a bounce to his steps, leaving Albert and his visitor to have the room all to themselves. 

Albert flops his head back to the pillow with a groan and a sniffle, propping his arm on top of his eyes to block out the bright light. With the little strength he has left in him, he voices out a nasally greet, “Hi, Finch” 

The distant light coming from the doorway slowly fades away till the door can be heard clicking shut. The next thing he notices is the side of his mattress slowly dipping from the extra weight on the edge. 

“Hi, Al” Finch greets back gently, pulling down his arm away from his eyes. Albert can now clearly see the smile on Finch’s face. The sight of the blond picked his spirit up enough to get the grumpy redhead to smile back. 

He puts the back of his hand on top of Albert’s forehead and asks, “How are you feeling? Other than shit” 

Albert chuckles and sniffles out, “My head hurts, I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m hungry but can’t bring my ass to the kitchen” 

Finch giggles through his smile, retracting his hand and turning to view the rest of Albert’s room. The floor to be exact, “And you should really start throwing your trash away...” 

“Yes, that. I also ditched all my classes of the day, so that’s another problem on my plate” Albert said, slightly unwrapping himself out of his knitted blanket, “And I can’t, for the life of me, sleep but can’t stay awake either because I’m actually sleepy”

He sees his boyfriend reach towards the floor, but can’t clearly see what he’s aiming for. He can hear plastic rustling before Finch sits up straight again, now presenting Albert a bowl-shaped food container, “I made you some cream soup. It’s still warm and it won’t require a lot of chewing” 

Albert smiles at the idea, sniffling his nose out a bit as his hazel eyes twinkle at Finch reaching back down. He could only assume that he’s getting something else. 

“Since you said you lost your appetite, I suspected you aren’t keeping yourself hydrated either so I prepared a water bottle” Putting the water bottle next to the cream soup on the bed. Finch pulls something else up, a small blue container with a bright green lid, “And also some vaporub to save your nose and headache!” 

Albert is beyond thankful to see Finch preparing all of this just for him. He really does not have the energy to do it himself. 

“I’ll get your laptop so we can binge something boring till you fall asleep” Finch ended his note. 

Albert smiles weakly at him, but the adoration was very much present. He hums out, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Nothing. Which is why you owe me big time for doing this!” Finch joked with a little giggle. It made Al roll his eyes with a chuckle.

Finch helps prop a pillow against the wall. Al’s head painfully pounds as he makes the efforts to sit upright, but any sort of comfort they can spare goes a long way. Finch gives him the bowl of soup with a spoon while he does a bit of cleaning. Albert can’t help but feel guilty for making his boyfriend do this. He’s already doing a lot by making time to visit and preparing a homemade cream soup plus other things to nurse him back to health, and he just got the flu! Finch just shrugs him off, saying that he’s more than happy to help.

After throwing away all the dirty tissues, he gets in bed besides Albert with his laptop in hand. Finch notes the knitted blanket he’s using, “Didn’t know you like knitted blankets”

“My mother made this for me when I had my first stay at a hospital” Albert explained after taking a spoonful of cream soup. He puts down the spoon and sniffles out, “I don’t remember why I had to stay overnight but I remember I was around ten”

Finch smiles at the short story before opening up the laptop and Albert continues eating his soup. Finch doesn’t need to worry about eating, he already had a sandwich before heading over here.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie they’re watching, and Al is already declaring his stomach is full. He ate so little that it looked as if he didn’t even bother touching it.

“Al, you haven’t eaten anything all day!” Finch countered.

“I seriously can’t eat right now. I’m sorry” Albert said. He only apologized because he knows Finch had personally made this for him.

“Please, just take your time finishing it” Finch begged, “I’ll feed you myself if I have to!”

Albert kept arguing that he can’t keep going, so Finch really did feed him. Placing the laptop on Albert’s lap and taking over the spoon to force down one meal down his stomach.

An hour or so through the movie, Albert was able to finish the soup. It wasn’t that his stomach was full, he just didn’t have the strength to finish it on his own. With the help from Finch, he was able to make himself eat something.

Finch helps him apply some vaporub on his chest, sliding his hand under his shirt. Albert lazily placed his head on Finch’s shoulder while he did it, smiling full of contentment. He tries to reach up for a kiss, but Finch pushes him away with a smile. 

“Slow down! We haven’t even held hands yet!” Finch joked, lightly pushing Al back against the wall he’s leaning on, “And there’s no way I’m kissing you while you’re sick” 

Albert laughs with a sniffle following, “We can be sick together!” 

“And leave Race to take care of us? No!” 

So they settle back in the comforts of each other, watching various movies under the warm covers of Alberts knitted blanket. Well, Albert moves his position to lie down completely on the bed and wrap an arm around Finch’s waist as sleep slowly overcomes his senses. Finch stays upright while holding the laptop, but the movie is now long forgotten as he strokes Albert’s hair and watches him drift to sleep. 

He looked terrible when Finch first arrived. To see him now sleeping peacefully by his side, a heavenly feeling wraps Finch’s heart. What a privilege it is to be able to cradle Albert in his arms and help him get better. As he unconsciously tightens his grip around Finch’s waist, he laughs seeing the act unfold.

 BANG! 

The bedroom door slammed opened with a powerful kick, sending both Albert and Finch to jump out of their little serenity. Finch keeps his arms on Albert as the pounding pain in his head appears once again. His eyes squints at the bright light coming from the door. 

“What’s up guys!” Racetrack’s loud voice echoed through Albert’s head, adding even more to the pain. And not to mention to new pain in his ass with his presence. Though, neither of them are entirely surprised. 

“Race... Please go away...” Albert weakly whined, slipping a hand under his pillow as he slowly lies back down. 

“What? Come on! I’m bored!” Race replied, he walks over to the bed in the corner with his signature grin, “The more the merrier, Al!” 

Before he could sit on the bed, Finch took the initiative to stand up and show Race to the door. Slamming it shut and locking it while he’s at it. He returns to his spot on the bed, Albert instantly wrapping his arm around his waist again. 

Finch notices the little pout on his face as he tries to catch more sleep. He laughs and threads his fingers through his hair, “Should’ve locked that door sooner. Sorry” 

“It’s fine” Albert said, barely audible since his face is half buried in his pillow. He opens one eye at Finch and voices out whatever he can without needing to move, “Lie down with me? We can take a little nap” 

Finch chuckles at the offer and proceeds to follow his orders. He gets comfortable under the blanket, facing his boyfriend to wrap his own arms around him. Albert’s head is placed on the crook of his neck, tickling Finch a little  with his hair as he adjust to get comfortable. 

They get comfortable in each others embrace after a few moments of adjusting. Chests rising and falling on their own slow pace. Albert already on his way to dreamland whilst Finch still has the small energy to pet his hair. Though as the seconds passes by, his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier till sleep finally envelops him. 

[animetrashlord-007]

Tumblr Takeover

Word Count;; 2.2k

Genre;; Fluff

Pairing;; Ushijima x Reader

Summary;;

You groaned as you scrolled through your Tumblr profile, glaring at the content that seemed to have no end. What used to be your messy, themeless blog filled predominantly with anime, nightblogging and the occasional debate, now contained volleyball. Only volleyball.

[The cringe is real, folks]

Notes;; Published: 2017-04-06

My Masterlist

   You groaned as you scrolled through your Tumblr profile, glaring at the content that seemed to have no end. What used to be your messy, themeless blog filled predominantly with anime, shitposting and the occasional debate, now contained volleyball. Only volleyball. You slammed your laptop shut before packing your school supplies and running out the door. Your teacher would never let you hear the end of it if you were late for the third day in a row, even if you tried to pass the blame onto a certain third year. It was his fault after all; he altered your entire blog overnight without asking beforehand, and the early morning discovery put you into a temporary state of shock. You growled and quickened your pace - no sane teacher would accept that excuse and you had no intention of gaining detention because of a volleyball-obsessed dork. Once you reached class (on time, much to your amazement), your irritation faded. As much as you hated to admit, it wasn't his fault. You should have expected this to happen sooner or later. You knew what you were getting into when you shared your account with him. He had told you his intentions at the beginning: Ushijima wanted to share his love of volleyball with you and your poor followers.

   It wasn't like you disliked the sport either; you knew your school’s team well enough to attend their matches (with only mild persuasion necessary on their part) and, while you could see the appeal, it wasn't your first pick for a hobby. In fact, it wouldn't be your second or third pick either, but if you had to choose a sport… you might consider it. In all honesty, the thing you enjoyed most about volleyball was the players. Shiratorizawa’s team was determined and they had talent. Somehow your admiration for their abilities had led you to befriending each of them to different degrees. When you saw Tendou in the halls, you’d yell manga references at one another, each quote becoming more obscure than the last, until the bell rang and you both bolted to class. Goshiki did his best to avoid you after watching you challenge Shirabu to an impromptu dance-off, which, to his horror, his upperclassman accepted. Neither of you were being very serious as you dropped it low and pumped it up, laughing at how stupid you both looked, yet Goshiki claimed to be scarred for life. At lunch most days you pretended to study with Yamagata and Ohira whilst spamming Semi with memes and vine compilations. He once blessed you with a response, and had it not been at two in the morning after a long night of studying, you would have been impressed with the video of Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” on loop for ten hours. Never in your life would you have suspected to be Rick Rolled by your senpai, but you weren't one to back down from a challenge. Feeling invigorated, you continued to spam him every chance you got. To his regret, that included sending TED talks about asexual reproduction in various species in the dead of night when you were unable to sleep.

   “I think the real question here is why the hell do you watch videos about animal reproduction at midnight every week?” Semi sighed as he wiped the sweat off his brow before throwing his towel at you.

   “Gross! I don't want your stinky towel!” You snapped, tossing it back. You grimaced as you stretched, the obnoxious cracking of several joints resonated throughout the gym. After being hunched over your textbooks for the first half of their practice, it was nice to stand up and move your tired muscles. Goshiki muttered a protest to your presence under his breath, which you elected to ignore.

   “No way, she still sends those to you?” Tendou bellowed, slapping his friend’s back with a grin. The setter shrugged, shooting you glare before walking back onto the court, leaving you with the middle blocker. His grin fell into a devious smirk upon seeing your narrowed eyes. Knowing full well what his mind was focused on and that he had no intention of letting his inquiry go unanswered, you stalked toward the door. He kept pace with you, poking you as he continued, “You can't avoid it that easily.”

   Feigning naivety, you quipped, “I don't watch them, I just send them to Semi to bug him.”

   “Oh, no, no, you don’t. Not that question, the one before that. Why don't you annoy Ushijima like you do everyone else?”

   You allowed a quick smile to flicker across your features before turning to the boy who was still following you to the door and ignoring his coach’s calls to return to the damn court already. Pure bliss flooded your mind as you pursed your lips, hand lifted over your heart in mock despair as your eyes quivered. Giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being on the verge of tears, you whispered, “I annoy you, Satori-kun?”

   “No! Of course not! I just meant-”

   “I'm sorry, Satori-kun, I'll leave you all alone from now on,” a single tear flowed down your cheek and you just about imploded with pride. Who needs to take theatre courses when you have this much natural talent?

   “No, no! Don't cry!” Looking to his teammates for help, he pointed at you with exasperation. His silent pleas were met with snickers as they each turned their back on the scene.

   On the outside, you were a delicate mess. On the inside, however, you were rejoicing. No longer was his mind on why you acted just a touch different with the team’s ace (since evidently nothing slipped past those maroon eyes of his), but rather on how to stop the waterworks that threatened to break before him. All that was left was to run out of the gym, celebrate your narrow escape, and continue to avoid him until you could formulate a believable excuse. You didn't want him to catch on to the small crush you had developed on Ushijima, but more importantly, you didn't want him to know about your Tumblr. He would never let you live down your low-effort blog after he had shown you his organised manga-themed one. Nevermind the the flack you would receive about how much of a pushover you had become to allow Ushijima full reign over it. Perhaps you could lie and say that the third year intimidated you, so you didn't want to push your luck around him. Maybe fortune would favour you and Tendou would drop the subject completely after this disaster. Knowing him, however, that was unlikely.

   “I'll just go, since I annoy you-”

   “What did you do this time?” A gravelly voice resounded across the room. It sent shivers down your spine as you faced the sound. Ushijima towered over you, a mix between confusion and disappointment aimed toward Tendou. The redhead just laughed before running back onto the court.

   “Hey Wakatoshi-kun, did you finish your exam?” You fumbled with your bag strap as you tried to sidle out of his vision. Much to your dismay, his eyes followed you with an intensity that would make a weaker person crumble.

   “What did he do?” Reiterating his question with a deepening frown, he moved in front of the door and blocked your escape.

   “Oh, you know Tendou-kun. Everything he does is annoying. Well, I've got to go!”

   “Before you leave, did you see our Tumblr? I changed it a little.”

   “A little?” You repeated, bitterness tainting the smile you flashed toward him, “You changed it more than a little, Ushijima-kun. My favourite part of it would have to be the ask from a mutual about why I'm suddenly a volleyball blog, and if I'm sharing my account because it seemed even more all over the place than usual and I just loved waking up to a new theme as well. Yes, it was very nice, Ushiwaka-kun, very nice.”

   “You should try regulating your breathing, you look flustered. I am glad you liked it, however. I spent a decent amount of time on it,” he nodded, brushing past you to join his team in their practice. Unbelievable.

   “Oi, you! We're not done here! I'll be calling you tonight, so, uh, prepare yourself!” You shouted after him, huffing at his thumbs-up. A tinge of pink painted the tips of your ears when Semi and Shirabu smirked at you, which bloomed into a full blush at Tendou’s, “You can call on him anytime!”

   The rest of the day whirled by in a blur. You couldn't procrastinate on Tumblr without being reminded of your new theme, which turned off your desire to slack off in general. You finished your homework early, then you finished next week’s as well. Something seemed off, but you didn't stop to question it - you were motivated to work for once and you didn't want to jinx your flow. Even after finishing two essays, you had time to kill before you could call Ushijima. Since he was tardy to practice, he would undoubtedly stay late to make up the lost time. Heading to the kitchen, you grabbed out the ice cream and threw yourself down on the couch. With nothing left to do, binge-watching Netflix would feel rather guilt-free for once. Your relaxation was cut short when you heard a knock at the door.

   “I don't want to buy your shit, go away!”

   “It's Ushijima,” a palpable pause, “and I'm not selling anything. I have your textbooks. You left them in the gym.”

   You groaned at your own stupidity. How could you have let Tendou work you up enough to abandon your textbooks? On top of that, you allowed your desire to scold Ushijima to blind you to your obvious lack of study material. Without it, the likelihood of errors had increased exponentially. You smacked yourself with a pillow; now you would have to double-check all your homework. Anxiety tickled your numbing thoughts as you turned off the television. You didn't make any effort to meet him at the door, “Ugh, just come in already.”

   He offered a nod in acknowledgement as he entered the living room and placed the books on the table. He sat down next to you, smiling as he grabbed the dessert from your hands. You were used to him being in your home after many an afternoon spent showing him how to use Tumblr. What came as a surprise was watching him eat the ice cream. Most days he would return it to the freezer, disregarding your pleas. You took the chance to observe him while his own gaze fell to the carpeted floor. The embodiment of a proper gentleman, he maintained perfect posture. He was still in his school uniform, and he always looked tense in it, but he seemed to loosen up when he was in your home. You knew he had taken a shower at the school, which he usually did after practice, because his hair had been styled once more. You always appreciated how the minty scent of his body wash lingered throughout your house even after he left. His clothes seemed tighter, clinging to his damp skin, providing an even more exquisite view of his muscles. Eyes falling to his legs, you let your mind wander and toy with the notion of seeing those thighs bare of clothing. You didn't notice when he turned to you at last, still lost in your own somewhat perverted thoughts. Coughing to gain your attention, he cocked an eyebrow, “Enjoying yourself?”

   “Shut up, you smell nice.”

   He blinked, a tinge of red dusting his cheeks, before continuing, “What did you want to talk about?”

   “I was going to call you. You didn't need to arrive at my house unannounced and start eating my food,” you mumbled, hitting his arm, “but I wanted to talk to you about getting your own Tumblr. Or, I guess since you already took over mine, I could start a new one.”

   “Why?”

   “What do you mean why, doofus? When I showed you my Tumblr, I didn't intend for you to take it over. I just thought you might want to see that someone posted one of your matches and it was getting notes,” you sighed, hitting his arm again. He chuckled at the effort, lifting a spoon of the frozen dessert to your lips. You swore under your breath as your cheeks exploded with crimson heat upon swallowing the treat.

   “I'm sorry,” he placed the tub of ice cream on the table before facing you once more, taking your hands within his, “You mentioned how your blog was personal to you, and I enjoyed that you shared it with me. I enjoy spending time you.”

   “Oi, you can't just say things like that! Dammit, Bakatoshi! You're making me blush!” You slapped his arm once more, earning an amused grunt from the attractive volleyball-obsessed idiot. He leaned in to you, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear.

   “It was nice having something that was ours,” You could feel his breath on your lips as he caressed your cheek. Your heart skipped a few beats, waiting for him to make his move.

   “Geez, just kiss me already, Wakatoshi-kun!” You closed the gap, lips smashing against his. If he was surprised by your forwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead he entwined his fingers within your hair, returning the kiss with equal passion. Patience was never one of your strong suits, not that either of you were complaining.

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 15 remember

 It was exam season. Y/n was tasked to help make the study guides and reviews for the class while Aizawa make the class scared over the test. There were two tests, one on their skills and a written one. The class freaked out on how they were gonna study and train. Y/n got to skip teaching aid days to take her own exams. 

“How were your exams? You got to take yours before ours.” Momo asked at lunch. 

“Aced them all.” Y/n told them. 

All their jaws dropped.

“I’ve never seen you read a book for any of your classes!” Jirou expressed her shock. 

“They’re online books. During slow times I read them. Aizawa doesn’t trust me to grade your work. I’d fail Bakugo everytime, and he knows it!”

“You’ve had so much time to study, then.” Tsu said. “I’m kinda jealous.”

“A lot of it is self teaching. If I get stuck somewhere I have to reach out to a teacher or hire a tutor, but I haven’t hit that wall in awhile.” She told them. 

Once lunch was done the students and Y/n were back to class. The phone rang and Y/n answered. Apparently her middle school friends Brittany, Stacy, and Regina came to pay her a visit. Y/n gave the phone to Aizawa to update him on the situation. He knew Y/n didn’t plan it, it could have been her mother’s doing or Y/n after meeting Brittany at the store. He was keeping close tabs. They did fill out forms and contact the school beforehand. As long as they didn’t see All Might to spread rumors, it was probably safe after a pat down.

“Yeah she can see them, but they have to stay on school property. She can think of a reason if she wants to.” Aizawa said. 

Y/n was surprised about the privilege she was given, but wasn’t gonna pass it up. It was the end of the day after all. Y/n went to her dorm to change and then went to the designated outdoor spot she was given to see her friends. 

“Are you sure it’s wise to let Y/n see her friends? She’s been following your rules, but could betray your trust at any moment l, Aizawa.” Tsu said. 

“If you all are worried, you can make it a game, spy on her to see if she really is trust worthy.” Aizawa said. “She’s surrounded by cameras, but maybe you’ll catch something.”

 Certain ears of the class perked up. They were let out, but instead of going to the dorm they made hiding places to hide and spy on Y/n and her “friends”. 

 Each student who did had their own worries about Y/n. Momo worried that they weren’t as close as she hoped. That these girls would always tier over Momo even though she had felt a closeness to Y/n. Their brief childhood intertwining, and then being brought together again. Koda joined with Jiro and Momo to see if Y/n was true too her words about his old elementary school bully. Shouji and Tokoyami were a different group who did not let the rest of the class know. Tokoyami only joined to see what Shouji was up to. Deku, Urakaka and Tsu joined a group worried that Y/n was planning on escaping. Sero and Kamanri just wanted to see what the girls would talk about, maybe hear about a crush. More groups were there for their own reasons. 

 Y/n sat under the tree with the three girls. They were all a rather conventionally attractive group. It would be wrong to judge them and think hey they’re pretty, one is confirmed mean without reason (Brittany), two were unknown, and Y/n who was kinda weird, but if wanted to could probably wield her power to be a mean girl. 

“How did you know to come here, I thought you’d call?” Y/n said.

“Well miss social media cleanse I figured I’d just go to the front office. We all had half days due to exams. I thought a nice get together was good.” Brittany said. 

“I can’t believe your condition was getting worse. I know you left regular school, but I still remember you beating up Derek Jeater.” Regina said .

“Recovery girl’s quirk is what’s holding my body together.” Y/n half lied. 

“Like is this it for you? Are you gonna die?” Brittany asked. 

 All the students listening had their stomach drop a bit. These girls know Y/n better. You don’t throw around the dying question so lightly unless it was a real real possibility.

“Probably not. I’ll be fine. I’ll survive long enough to help you’re voted in student government so you can pass prom and we’ll all party together.” Y/n told her. 

“I wanted to be the one to pass prom.” Stacy said. 

“Silence bottom!” Brittany laughed 

“So if you’re chilling at U.A. what do you do all day? Are you befriending any students?”

“I’ve actually been hanging out with class 1-A a lot.”

“Shut up.” Stacy said. “Shut UP! Oh my god you’re hanging out  with celebrities.”

“They can’t be that great. I went to school with Koda Koji and he was such a-“

“He’s actually kinda been my rock through this all. He lets me chill with his bunny whenever I’m missing my cat and is a great listener.” Y/n interrupted Brittany.

“Well your cats been dead for a couple years, and you haven’t gotten over it?”  Brittany teased.

“Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still feel my cat shoving their butt in my face.” Y/n said dramatically causing the girls to laugh. 

“Any cute boys or girls we should know about.” Regina asked. 

Y/n laughed at the question though her cheeks were red.

“There is!” Stacy declared

Urakaka’s eyes widened. Y/n lied to the girls, they didn’t catch her signs she was lying but these girls did and now they were gonna get the truth!

“There is someone. It’s nothing, just a little bit. It’s too early to make a deal about this.”Y/n went back and forth on her thoughts about that.

“Make a big deal about it miss too good for a cellphone. I’ll have to come here every week just for the whole story.” Regina said.

Y/n sighed.

“What he do? Is he dumb?” Stacy asked. 

“Was it one of the guys with you?” Brittany asked. 

Y/n pressed her teeth together.

“When something happens I’ll tell you guys. I just thought he was really cool, ya know. It’s not like I’ve said anything, I maybe the world’s worst flirter too.” Y/n said.

“You might be. Remember when you had a crush on the kid who played the saxophone? You couldn’t talk to him without making dolphins noises.” Brittany said.

“Gah!” Y/n screamed into the grass rolling around. “Why do I have to have feelings? Couldn't you three marry me and then I’ll never look for anything more? I can’t deal with having a crush, it makes my heart explode more than it can take!” Y/n said.

“I’d marry you.” Regina rubbed her friend’s head. 

“It just better not be octo-arms he didn’t even make it to the final round of the sports festival and he’s 1-A student, meaning he should have beaten all those b-listers.” Brittany said. “Or that other tall guy, I heard his suit makes him look like a banana”

Tokoyami looked at Shouji when they heard the comment. Shouji didn’t give any reaction, didn’t flinch or move. It was interesting to hear Y/n had a crush on someone in the class. Shouji also expected Brittany to show off her nasty side. Urakaka listening was screaming in her head how much of a liar Y/n is for not telling the girls who Y/n thought the cutest boy in the class was. Momo felt bad that Y/n may have not trusted the girls enough for a secret crush. Maybe it developed overnight , or maybe she was jerking her friends. 

Y/n kicked Brittany in the chest. “Don’t be fucking rude!”

The girls laughed and the U.A. students were even more confused. 

“Which one was Octo-arms, I don’t remember him.” Stacy asked. 

“Does it matter? It was the bird, crazy broccoli, Shoto Todoroki and Bakugo were the ones who mattered.” Brittany said. 

Y/n kicked her friend again, twice. The girls were laughing again. The U.A. students felt Brittany deserved worse than just three kicks, but figured Y/n was doing her best not to ruin the mood after not seeing her friends in so long. It was nice seeing Y/n laugh and have her guard down. She wasn’t afraid to be flustered in front of them, or saying she’d marry her friends. They just looked so happy and relaxed. Shouji paid close attention how Regina was outing her fingers in Y/n’s (colored textured hair). The peace didn’t last long, Brittany said another snotty comment and Y/n kicked her, except after she kicked her friend, Y/n started coughing violently. Regina held Y/n upright and the two others got startled and tried helping. 

“Oh god, Y/n breathe.” Stacy said. 

“Where’s that nurse...recovery girl?” Brittany said, all worried. 

Now that an emergency was rising the students didn’t know what to do. These girls didn’t know where the recovery girl was or their way around campus at all. They were all watching her, but do they give up their position to help Y/n? Would she be pissed? Of course she would. This was her time to be herself with people who knew her. But now she was coughing up blood in front of her friends. Shouji got out of his hiding place and Tokoyami followed. 

“Oh my god, how are you not dead?” Brittany said.

The three girls were too distracted to even see the two students approaching them. 

“I can take Y/n to recovery girl since she’s having a fit.” Shouji told the girls.

 His shadow loomed over them. He was so tall, so muscular. Regina and Stacy were both intimidated by the guy. Tokoyami got to his side. 

“I know you, you were Y/n’s little body guard.” Brittany said. Little is such a inaccurate word to describe him.

The coughing got a little faint as Y/n was ready go lights out in Regina’s arms. How could Brittany be so calm while her friend bleeds next to her? Regina past Y/n to Shouji as he cradled her in his arms. 

“You’re the guy who came in third, right?” Stacy asked. 

“Did you get to meet Hawks? He’s so cute.” Regina said. 

“You two can stay and talk, I’ll go with Octo-arms.” Brittany said. 

“Make sure our little Y/n doesn’t die!” Stacy told the two. 

 This must have happened often since the girls were all calm. Shouji and Brittany were alone, as Y/n was probably out of it. Then he was sure Y/n was with what Brittany said. 

“Nice ear on your hand. You were listening weren’t you.” Brittany said. “Don’t get your hopes up with Y/n. You probably like her since she’s someone who seems like she needs saving and you wanna be a hero, but you’re no doctor.” 

“Who said I liked her?” Shouji said. 

“Your actions. You spied on us and you just came at the perfect time to save her.” She told him. 

 His eyes widened and they were there in front of recovery girl’s office. They took the girl out of his arms so quickly and then slammed the door on the two of them. He was still trying to rationalize why he did spy and care. 

“I’m gonna wait here for her to get better you know since her and I are best frenemies, what about you?” Brittany asked. 

“I’ll stay here too.”

“Course you would. Cause you love Y/n don’t you.” Brittany teased harshly. 

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I can’t imagine her coping well here.”

“Why would she need to cope?”

“She didn’t come here in her own free will I bet. From what it looks like her health seems so much worse. To have to spend her final days away from friends, family, her cat’s ashes is very depressing. Recovery girl isn’t gonna cure her is she, just lessen some symptoms.”

Shouji took a deep breath. Brittany didn’t know the truth but knew a whole side to Y/n she never showed the class. He knew he couldn’t disprove her. 

“So like with your mouth hand is it like a playing with a sock puppet?” It was phrased like a question but really a jab. “That could be your hero name, the sock hero, sock puppet.”

He liked it better when people were afraid of him. This girl wasn’t afraid of him, she’d seen his soft side and already knew there was something hidden between him and Y/n and was gonna use that. 

“Are you worried you’re gonna lose your friend?” He asked her.   

“To death not to you.” She told him. 

  Recovery girl came out to say Y/n was better, but was out of it. Brittany sighed, went in to say a quick good bye and left glaring at Shouji. Brittany gathered the other two girls and left the campus. Shouji offered to stay, but recovery girl said she didn’t know when Y/n would wake up. She had called Aizawa to let him know about the incident. Shouji did stay and Tokoyami met up with him in the room. Tokoyami told him he wasn’t use to so many questions, especially about Hawks. They even exchanged numbers for more Hawks related questions.

“How was Brittany? She seemed like a handful.” Tokoyami asked. 

“She was…” Shouji didn’t know what was the right thing to say in front of an unconscious Y/n. “...a lot.”

Aizawa came in and sent the boys back to the dorms. He claimed he had to talk to Y/n when she woke up. It was clear Y/n didn’t even have real control over her quirk and now it was going to hurt her further. So Shouji and Tokoyami returned and there their class mates asked questions.

[suitcasetales]

Hallo! Hilsen fra Norge!

(Hello! Greetings from Norway!)

According to our 2021 calendar, we flew to Norway Wednesday night. Yesterday’s itinerary included a mini-cruise, a tour of a stave church and a visit to a waterfall. Today, more fjords, quaint villages and a visit to a Viking museum. How I wish I could tell you all about it. How I wish I had beautiful photos to share with you. How I wish I had interesting factoids to pass along to you. But alas, this is 2021....or is it the 16th month of 2020?

What really happened? We went took a trip 65 miles away — versus 3,872 miles — and for all of 27-hours! And believe it or not, we did things we have never done before and I am so desperate to get back to writing, I thought I would tell you about it.

Ironically, it was a pandemic driven trip. Janet is a member of a gym here in Richmond, technically Midlothian, called ACAC (Atlantic Coast Athletic Club). It began in Charlottesville during the fitness craze in the 70’s and has a few locations now in Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. Founder Phil Wendel “set out to operate a health club where everyone would feel comfortable coming to exercise.” Janet first started going via a 60-days- for-$60 P.R.E.P. (physician referred exercise program) incentive and has been there ever since. She has trained with personal trainers and taken various styles of water exercise classes but her favorite is Zumba where she can dance and shake her booty.

ACAC-Charlottesville was holding a fundraiser for an affordable housing charity in C’ville whose services and assistance, as you would be well aware of in this long pandemic, continue to be in high demand. The Sprint Pavilion, normally an outdoor, covered pavilion popular for concerts, was the venue for a morning of exercise classes, Zumba, Yoga and Afterburn. Participants paid money for each class. One of ACAC-Midlothian’s instructors, Marcela was invited to lead the 8:30 Zumba class. Janet thought it sounded fun so we decided to go up Friday night and do something wild and crazy and actually stay in a hotel.

Janet found us a suite hotel above the Barracks Road shopping center which accepted dogs (for only an additional $25) and did not have a two-night weekend requirement. With Cokie being the nervous dog that she is, we knew a take-out dinner would be our best option for Friday night, too. Again, Janet did the research and suggested C’ville’s number one rated restaurant, The Ivy Inn Restaurant. We have always known of it but had never eaten there and frankly, didn’t even know where it was located. Their website encouraged us to pre-order, even for take-out, as they often sell out. Thursday night, we ordered up a feast.

I left the hospital early Friday and we drove to Charlottesville and on to the hotel. Our suite was perfect and once settled in, I went and picked up our dinner, a six minute drive away. Our dinner was delicious. We treated ourselves to three courses. Janet had a nice salad with goat cheese and dates, pork chop with sweet potato mash and collards and strawberry rhubarb crisp with ice-cream. I had sweet potato empanadas , local mountain trout with rice and green beans and sticky toffee pudding with ice-cream. And although that sounds like a lot of food, the portions were actually reasonable and we were not miserably stuffed.

Nevertheless, I had not had my exercise for the day. The clouds had cleared, the sun was out, the sky was blue and so we went for a walk. Just behind the hotel, there was a short path that led to “The Park,” on the University of Virginia campus. We circumvented the several intramural athletic fields and a softball stadium (that looked more like a former softball stadium), found a wooded area with some trails where Cokie was more at home and then walked around some of the law school buildings. It was the perfect evening walk and we managed almost two miles.

At check-in, we were given this magnet to place on our room door. The magnet must remain on the door the entire stay. (And FYI if you travel with a dog, they can be left in your suite if in a crate.)

Saturday morning, we took advantage of the hotel’s grab-n-go breakfast, grabbing it and bringing it back to our room. Cokie and I delivered Janet to the amphitheater and went off to find a place to hike while she danced. We shortly found an entrance to the 20-mile Rivanna Trail which is a “rustic urban wilderness trail” and did a quiet and protected hike alongside a creek for about 20 minutes before returning to the truck and then back downtown to say high to Marcela and to pick up Janet.

Photos from my hike short hike with Cokie. The May Apples were in full bloom!

Marcela introduced Janet to the ACAC founder and was able to thank him and tell him she would not be the person she is today without ACAC.

We returned to our hotel (where we had a very generous noon checkout), showered, did some research for the rest of the day, and checked out around 11:15. It was so worth having stayed overnight!

Like Richmond, and perhaps even more so with the Blue Ridge mountains all around, Charlottesville has many opportunities for hiking. We didn’t want to drive further west in to Shenandoah or go along the Parkway as the forecast was not good. Instead, we went to the Ivy Creek Natural Area which offered about 7 miles of hiking trails. Unfortunately, as soon as we turned in to the parking areas, everywhere, there were “no dogs” signs. What?! No dogs? Well, darn.

But, knowing Cokie as we do, we hiked anyway and left Cokie snoozing in the truck. We knew she wouldn’t care — we always have to really coax her out of the truck anyway and convince her she will like what we are doing. It was cloudy and cool and we knew she would be alright. We ended up hiking less than 3 miles. We enjoyed the hike and it was a good workout, up and down a lot with beautiful wildflowers and some nice water views of a creek. Returning to the vehicle, Cokie could have cared less that we had been gone.....or even that we were back!

We debated for a bit, trying to decide if we wanted to go to one of the many breweries, cideries or wineries in the area, but again, it just was not going to be a pretty afternoon. For those of you who live in central Virginia, you will probably be shocked to read that we have never been to Carter Mountain Orchard so off we went! Or, if you have been there, up we went! Up the mountain road arriving to the huge parking lot and beautiful views from the summit. Bold Rock Cider has a satellite location there but again, no dogs were allowed.

So again, Cokie was left in the truck while we went on a short visit. We can’t imagine how crazy it is to visit in the Fall — we know many of you do it; we have seen your photos on Facebook. But having no children and not being huge fans of apples, we have now checked it off our list, and feeling fortunate to have visited it in on dull Spring day. On the other hand, Janet did enjoy a cider and as there were no savory food choices available (and outside food was not allowed, another pet peeve of ours), we had to have apple spice doughnuts for lunch. Yes, we HAD to have them.

Along the Carter Mountain road, a hiking trail had crossed over near the beginning so next we went in pursuit of its trailhead and parking area. We drove just around the corner to the Michie Tavern complex on the Thomas Jefferson Parkway (that leads to Monticello) and parked. We managed to get Cokie out of the truck and headed in the direction we thought the trail could be accessed, only it wasn’t. We turned back and walked along the Michie Tavern historic buildings to the other end of the parking lot, which was a dead end.

Janet sought the advice of the restaurant hostess and back down the highway we went, turning in to a small parking lot at Kemper Park and nabbing one of the last two parking spots. We packed our raincoats and hats and convinced Cokie that she would be okay — Come on, Cokie, you will like it — and finally managed to get going along the Saunders-Monticello Trail.

This “trail” is really a cinder road, so wide and very easy to walk, slightly but steadily climbing. Eventually, we took a side trail to an overlook and then saw a trail jutting off from it and decided to diverge. A great decision, too, as it was a very vigorous ascent, followed by a hike along the contours before descending to a nice footbridge that returned to us to the main hiking road. And, we had that trail it all to ourselves. At the end, we read a sign where it had built in memoriam of a Monticello trail manager. It was the perfect workout after a doughnut lunch. Hike number four, in the books. And just as we made it back to the parking lot, it started raining.

We drove home in steady rain and ended our mini-vacation (and I do mean mini!) with a dine-in dinner at Lola’s Farmhouse Bistro in Manakin-Sabot. We thought we might have to just do take-out but called enroute to see if we could make a reservation. As expected, they were fully booked but ended up accommodating us when we said it was just the two of us and we could be there by 5:00. The hostess said it wouldn’t hurt if we could get there even earlier, and we did....and had the restaurant to ourselves. We both had large, tasty salads and even scored a free takeaway dessert as an apology when, due to the kitchen not being busy yet, our entrees of lobster ravioli and chicken Marsala arrived before we had even put a dent in our salads!

No, it wasn’t Norway. And it wasn’t even a multi-night getaway but a getaway, no matter where, is better than nothing these days. But finally doing some writing feels good!! And if we ever make it to Norway, we will eat hjortebakkels (Norwegian cake donuts) for lunch and I will tell you all about it.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Street Artists ~ Hoseok X Reader

A/N:The final one of my ZIP inspired drabbles!!! Hope You enjoyed them! 

Word Count: 2,963

Summary: After communicating with an unknown street artist for a while you both decide to meet up but when you get to the place you’re supposed to meet the artist you see your old school rival Jung Hoseok, who made your life a living hell and ruined your dance career

Genre: Fluff, angst??? sweet

You stared up at the mural on the wall, the same street artist you'd been communicating to through spray paintings was back again, you didn't who the other artist was but it was safe to say you were gaining a small crush on them, they were always leaving flirty messages for you, or leaving flirty paintings for you to finish. You were always meeting up at different locations, well meeting up after one of you had left so you didn't meet in real life, though you were dying to know who the other artist was you wanted the identity of said person to be kept a secret, a little mystery never hurt anybody. The finished mural was beautiful, it started as a project about how street art was perfect as long as it wasn't vulgar and it grew, with the other street artist adding to it when you weren't around, you only knew it was him because of his calling card, he left his signature which was a tree with the letter 'H' in the middle, it was quite sweet. Yours was simply a smiley face with heart eyes to just show that you'd been there and finished work. You smirked at the small message he'd left for you at the bottom of the wall, 

'Meet me here, it's time we met' There were coordinates that followed it so you took out your phone to snap a photo of it when you heard someone screaming,

"Police!" A girl who usually ran with you to spray her own designs yelled at you down the alleyway, you dropped the tins of spray paint onto the ground and made a run for the other end of the alley bumping into someone's chest as you just got out, 

"Ugh move!" You yelled pushing them and hiding down by a dumpster when you heard a policeman coming, you held your breath praying whoever you'd knocked into kept their mouth shut when the police officer walked away you stood up. 

"I'm really sorry- Oh it's just you." You were going to say sorry when you realised it was Hoseok, your old school ''friend'', he stared at you and brushed off his clothes. 

"Watch where you're going brat." He grumbled at you, you scoffed at him. You and Hoseok used to be in school together and you used to be the best of friends, joint at the hip and always hanging around one another until you got into High school, everything changed. He started hanging around with the wrong kind of people and started treating everything like a competition, the things you used to enjoy doing together was turned into a huge fight for who was better. You both took Art as a major study in High School, and every class he would somehow manage to turn it into a competition with you, he saw it as anything you could do he could do better. He would always try to one-up you at everything, you ended up quitting out of Art early and moving onto something else. He didn't like that though so he found new ways to torture you, bullying you in the school hallways, in the food hall and whenever he saw you in class. Paper balls thrown at your head, even spitballs were thrown in your direction by him and his group of friends, the old bubbly and sunshine-filled Hobi was gone and was replaced by the mean and nasty one. Hoseok and you used to take dance classes together and were even on an afterschool group for dancing, that was up until the accident. 

"Are you sure I can't switch partners?" You asked the dance leader who was stretching at the side of the stage, it was the day of the major contest, your group was aiming to get into regionals and win a championship trophy for the first time in four years and with the routine you had, you were a shoo-in for the place you needed to secure yourselves in if it wasn't for your partner. You were supposed to be dancing with Jungkook but at the last minute he pulled out due to some tests at school so you were put back with your old partner Hoseok.

"Y/n we can't change it again, just deal with him for once dance and Jungkook will be back next time." You nodded and went over to stand with Hoseok since you had to walk onto the stage together, you were hoping he would keep things professional and keep your private life out of it but you knew from the smirk on his lips that, that was wishful thinking. The music began and you began walking out onto the stage with him, keeping your head held high and focussed on the choreography you needed to do. 

It was time for the finishing move, the dance had been going great, you had all of about one minute left and Hoseok had been fine with you, both of you being friendly to one another. Your dance leader was off at the side watching as you got ready to run over to Hoseok for the big lift, just a simple Split Over move nothing major. You rushed into his waiting arms, lifting onto his shoulder and moving your legs but just like that it was over in an instant, you didn't even know what happened, all you knew was that Hoseok was standing in front of you trying to hide his smug grin but failing miserably, you went from being safe and secure in his arms to hit the floor with a loud thud, snapping your ankle in a clean break, you held in the scream jumping up from the floor and trying to play it off as part of the dance, limping off the stage and onto the floor again, where you cried out in agony.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He snapped at you, you didn't have a good enough comeback for him so you looked around for your phone you'd dropped and began to walk away from him, unable to be near him for so long without ripping his throat out, he was the reason you had to quit dancing. You weren't allowed to dance after what happened at the competition, you were replaced on the team by someone else and thrown off the team because the fall was "your fault." 

Once you got home you looked over the photographs of the mural you'd been doing and then looked at the coordinates of the meet up with the mysterious tree boy, you had so many questions running through your head about him and what you should wear that everything important left your mind like he could be a serial killer on the side of being a street, all of those thoughts were gone and replaced by outfit suggestions and trying to figure out if you could possibly know this guy. 

On the other side of town Tree boy was getting ready to meet you, packing up some foods for you to eat, and bringing along some drinks in his bag, he wanted to make this a sweet date for you both. He really felt connected to you through your art and he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd known you his entire life although having never met you or know your real name, just you calling card after you'd finished a mural or random piece of street art. 

You finally decided on some dark blue ripped skinny jeans and a random horror movie shirt you had and grabbed your bag, unsure of what to take with you, so you packed a couple of tins of spray paint in case you read the situation wrong and it was just to meet up and do some art together, you weren't nervous before but as you walked towards the small alleyway he'd told you to meet him at you got apprehensive, wondering if he was going to kill you, or mock you for your artwork. You rounded the corner and standing there was Hoseok, he was carrying a backpack, you stayed by the side to watch what he was doing when he reached into his bag and pulled out a tin of spray paint. 

"Oh fuck that," You whispered finally putting two and two together, he was tree boy which would explain why you bumped into him earlier, he was trying to see if you'd finished your mural...but he didn't know you were the artist, you groaned going to walk away when you saw a cop car at the end of the alley, the sirens coming on and alerting both you and Hoseok that they were there. 

"Shit." He yelled dropping the tins of paint, you walked through the alley, trying to act as though you were just taking a shortcut when another officer blocked off the only other exit for you.

"Looks like we caught you," The male said coming over and placing Hoseok into some handcuffs, you held your hands up. 

"Look, this is just my shortcut home." You lied when the female officer took the bag from your back and opened it, emptying the cans onto the floor, you looked away from her and she placed you into some handcuffs. 

"Maybe next time you'll learn not to spray your coordinates on the wall., not smart." Hoseok finally looked up at who you were and looked just as disgusted as you did, you were both put into the back of the same cop car in silence and they drove you towards the station. 

"You? Of all people, it's you!" Hoseok yelled at you inside the cell, you were both locked in the same cell together and you were being told you were going to be held overnight unless someone made bail, and considering you weren't on good terms with your family, no one was going to come and bail you out.

"This is your fault we're here, so don't start on me, tree!" You yelled at him using his signature against him, not wanting to use his real name, you felt disgusted that you even had a crush on someone like him. 

"Of course it is!" He yelled back at you, you were both on opposite sides of the cell, the officers that had brought you in were standing at their desks watching as you scraped back and forth with one another. 

"You left plans on where to meet, out for everyone to see! What did you expect to happen?" He grumbled something that you couldn't hear so you ignored him, sitting back against the cell wall and hoping the night would pass as quickly as possible so you wouldn't end up killing him and doing more time in the cell. 

"So you're the smiley face painter?" He asked two hours after you both sitting and glaring at each other in silence, you nodded to exhausted to fight him back on anything, it was 11 pm the original officers had gone home and were replaced by a night guard who was watching Netflix at his desk, you turned to look at him and he was sitting on the floor, it didn't look comfy so you moved over on the cell bed and patted it, trying to be at least a little civil with him, he made his way over and sat down next to you. 

"So you're tree?" He stared at you, 

"It's what me and my friends called the artist with the tree signature." He nodded at you and you looked at the floor, not being able to think of anything to say to him, he continued to stare at the side of your face and you snapped back at him as he did at you, 

"Take a picture it'll last longer." He chuckled deeply at you and then looked over at the guard who was asleep now, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his body,

"You're cute when you're mad." You scoffed and got off the bed not wanting to be near him.

"If you keep going I'm going to get drop-dead sexy." You warned as he smirked at you, you rolled your eyes at him he'd always been like this, the biggest flirt in the room. 

"Leave me alone Hoseok." You grumbled going over to where he was sitting previously and sitting on the ground, staring at the wall in front of you and hoping he would just drop all means of trying to communicate with you. 

"Someones in a bad mood." You stayed silent, folding your arms across your chest and laying down on the floor. 

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you know you're rolling over and someone grips onto our waist tightly, your eyes shot open to see Hoseok laying in front of you, his arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined on the cell bed. 

"What are you doing?" You questioned, as soon as he knew you were steady he let go of your waist and put his arms back to his sides. 

"You were going to roll off the bed, didn't want you to hurt your ankle." You scoffed at him again,

"Why am I on the bed?" He looked at you and then away from you, not wanting to show his concerned side. 

"You looked cold and the floor isn't good for injuries so I moved you, when I went to leave to go sleep on the floor you wouldn't let me." You nodded along with what he was saying and sat up in the bed, rubbing your ankle which was actually starting to hurt, it did this from time to time, would randomly start hurting whenever you got too cold or used it too much.

"You okay?"

"What do you care? You're the reason it hurts all the time." You finally said, remembering back to the night that ruined your dancing career, he stared at you confused for a couple of seconds by what you meant. 

"What are you talking about? You fell during the performance, how is that my fault." You faked a laugh and stood up, not wanting to sit next to him, you didn't even want to be in the same cell as him right now. 

"I can't believe it, after all these years and you still won't admit that you practically threw me on the floor." You shot back at him but he was having none of it, he was up on his feet and standing in front of you. 

"You can't be serious? I threw you onto the floor and snapped your ankle? Do you really think that little of me?!" You nodded at his question, and he sighed. 

"Of course you do." He was rubbing the back of his neck trying to think of what to say to you so you went on a rant. 

"You hate me Hoseok, we went to high school and you changed so much. You became a huge dick towards me, turning everything into a competition, bullying me whenever you saw me in the halls and then snapping my ankle because we didn't get along." You continued ranting and he just grabbed hold of your arms, forcing you to look up at him with his free hand and kissing you, you stopped mid-rant, your arms that were previously moving around to prove your point dropped to your sides, not knowing what to do with them until Hoseok growled into the kiss, pushing you back against the wall and wrapping your arms around him, he wanted you to kiss him back so you did, you stood up on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss and then he smirked, bending down to pick you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

"I didn't do that, I would never hurt you like that." He whispered as he kissed your neck, you threw your head back against the brick wall, almost forgetting for a second where you were and who he was. 

"Hobi, you hated me in school, you made my life hell." He pulled his lips away from your skin and stared up at you in his arms. 

"If I hated you, would I be doing this?" You shook your head but it still didn't excuse what he put you through in school.

"It makes no difference, the school was a nightmare because of you." He slowly lowered you down onto the ground and took hold of your hand. 

"I wanted to keep my distance from you...I figured if I hurt you and pushed you away you would leave me alone...I started getting feelings for you and I got scared." You stared at him in shock, he liked you in school? 

"I liked you too..." You whispered back to him dropping your gaze onto the floor,

"I'm sorry for everything I did to you." He whispered tilting your head up to look at him, you were blushing already. 

"I'll make it up to you, promise...once I get us out of here that is." He laughed looking at you, you nodded and leant your head onto his chest, it felt good to have him around again. 

"Can we just sleep? Maybe if we go to sleep, we'll wake up and we can just leave." You whispered to him, he nodded and you both walked over to the cell bed, laying in front of him as he spooned you, you smiled to yourself closing your eyes and relaxing against his arms. 

Tagline:

@snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @yourguessisasgoodasminemate​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​

[random-imagines-blog]

On It {James Ransone x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @h-a-j-i-m-e-ru​ Wordcount: 2048 Summary: An unexpected storm puts a halt to your roadtrip with James.

Since everyone was saying that It Chapter 2 was going to be a huge success, James had suggested that the two of you go on the trip that you’ve been talking about since your school days together. It had been something that you started to plan after learning more about the country in Geography class, and saw things in your textbooks such as the Grand Canyon, The Statue of Liberty, Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Now was the perfect time to do it. With the movie finished filming, reshoots already completed, he had the time before he would have to do the press junkets, and before his face would be as out there for the world to see. The last thing either of you needed was people interrupting your road trip around America, begging for selfies and autographs. He loved the attention that he got when his work was recognized, of course, but this was more about making memories with you, his favorite person in the world, than advertising his career.

“Is that rain?” You asked, on the third day of the adventure.

“Worried about a little bit of water?” James joked, though the skies ahead were starting to look ominous. You both were just now leaving New York City, having started off there by seeing the Lady Liberty herself, and taking in Times Square where James was able to remain anonymous. He let out a deep breath as you gave him a glare, and focused on making the correct turn to get to Connecticut. “Because we’re going to be there in just a couple of hours, and that’s if traffic is bad.”

You were tapping on your phone, looking at upcoming weather forecasts and winced at what you were seeing. James kept glancing over at you, growing worried since you weren’t saying anything in response. Nothing was coming out of your mouth except for little winces and then a groan, so he just turned up the radio which was playing an obnoxious pop song.

You finally turned it down after the commericals started. “James, I think we should stay in Connecticut instead of continuing onto Rhode Island today. What the weather apps are telling me is honestly pretty frightening. I’ve been searching up hotels too, and I found us a deal on a room in a bed and breakfast, is that okay?” As he was doing the majority of the driving on this trip, even though you had offered to do your fair share, you wanted to make sure this was alright with him before going ahead and booking it.

“Now that’s another day to add onto this trip,” James grumbled, but he instantly regretted it when he saw the look on your face. “Which is wonderful?” He added, but your look of disappointment didn’t change. “Sorry, you just know how I like to stick to my schedules.”

“You want to drive through a storm, that’s fine with me. For some reason, I thought being courteous here was the right thing to do,” You huffed, folding your arms in front of you. It was clear that being in the same car as James for so long was beginning to irritate you, and even more so was the fact that he didn’t seem to be bothered much at all.

During the drive though, the rain started to fall. It was in big fat drops at first, and you looked at James with an ‘I told you so’ expression. But James gave you the same smug look and pointed in the backseat of his car where, along with some trash from fast food places, souvenirs and your suitcases, there was an umbrella for the two of you to use while you looked around the city. You rolled your eyes and brought your phone out again, deciding at the very least you were going to book the bed and breakfast for you, since you weren’t crazy enough to go through a storm, even if you weren’t the one driving.

And, of course, the rain didn’t let up as you crossed state lines. “You’d better drop the bravado act, this is getting bad, James.” The fact that as soon as you said that, thunder rumbled throughout the sky and the rain started to fall harder and harder until it was getting tough to see, helped your cause. You weren’t setting out to piss off James, you just wanted the both of you to be safe, even if that meant going off schedule a little bit.

When you reached the city of Hartwood Connecticut, James finally gave in and asked you the directions to the bed and breakfast. “Y/N, you win, we’ll stay the night.” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he tried to make out the street signs. You read off the directions, refraining from saying anything that might bother him further. The trip into the city became more about safe driving than sightseeing. You managed to steer James in the right direction and the car pulled up to an old house, three stories high, that would look cheerful on a sunny day but looked drab in the gray.

You started to shuffle through your stuff in the back seat, looking for your overnight bag that you used the day before. Over your shoulder, you noticed that James had turned off the car and was preparing to run out. “Don’t forget the umbrella,” You said, grabbing it and handed it over. Once he had it, he was out of the car and into the rain, circling around the car instead of running straight up to the door like you had half-expected.

“It’s freezing!” James announced as he opened your door for you, shivering beneath the umbrella.

“Oh James, let’s hurry then. Here, take this.” He took his bag from your arms and awkwardly held it and the umbrella and tried to keep it over you as you got out with your own bag. You noticed that he hadn’t pulled the umbrella out quick enough when he stepped out of the car, and the top of his head was damp from the rain. You wanted to stop for a second and admire how adorable he looked with his short hair plastered to his forehead, but he was right - the weather put a chill up your spine.

As luck would have it, it was a slow season for the Bed and Breakfast, and they had your room available immediately. Essentially, you would have to be out very early in the morning, but that wasn’t a problem with how tight James wanted to stick to the schedule. He smiled at you as he was handed the room key, grateful for your insistence. You knew that he wasn’t the type to say anything such as how wrong he was and how right you were, but you could see it in his eyes that he felt that way.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He chuckled as you both went up the stairs to the third floor where your room was. Smiling, you pretended that you had no idea what he was talking about.

The room looked as cozy as a picture, with floral bedding, home-made looking furniture, prints of artwork that could probably be seen in every bed and breakfast around the world as if they had a store just for that, and a small TV mounted on the dresser. James put his damp bag on the circular rug that went part-way under the bed and headed to the window to look out at the car. When you came up behind him, you could smell the rain on his clothes, despite the fact that he had barely been caught in it. You put your arms around him from behind and pressed your head to the space between his shoulderblades.  

“Once we unpack a bit, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” You told him, nuzzling him gently.

“First thing in the morning, we’re out of here,” He said, offering that as a compromise to staying here for the night rather than the original hotel in the next city. You nodded and let go of him and took a couple of steps back.

“You’re right, we should go early,” You sighed, not looking forward to waking up at the crack of dawn. His smile was reflected in the windowpane so you could see it. James had a lovely smile, and you felt that you didn’t see it often enough. “So I’m going to go and take a shower now, rather than wait for later. Do you want to join?” You asked the last question with a cheeky wink as he turned around.

“How? If the bed is this tiny, I can’t imagine what the shared bathrooms are like.” He said, making you laugh. You shrugged at his question, rummaging through your bag for your pajamas since it seemed like you two would just be staying in for the rest of the day.

“I guess I’m just going to have to find out.” James gave a nod, and sat on the end of the bed, picking up the remote and turned on the small TV. The door closed behind you, but he didn’t get up to turn the lock. He just fell back onto the bed, his head landing on the pillow. Because of the force, he supposed, a couple of feathers came loose from the inside of the case and tickled at his ear. You usually enjoyed nice long showers, so he knew not to expect you back too soon. For a little while, he played with the feather, and thought about this road trip that you two had been having.

Honestly, he had been excited about it since you brought up the prospect when the both of you were younger, before his acting career, before you got busy with yours. He thought about it when he got his driver’s license in the hope that he would be driving the two of you around sooner rather than later. As he picked up the feather and let it free fall once more, he frowned, thinking about how he had acted earlier to you. You didn’t deserve it - you didn’t control the weather.

He snapped up into a sitting position and looked around to try to find something to woo you with. The TV was playing an old episode of Happy Days, and that was extremely far from romantic. There were no flowers, no little chocolates, not even a coffee pot in the room, it was as simple as he could imagine. Something Eddie might live in, though his room would have medication bottles on every surface, he thought. As he thought this, he smiled, thinking that he had been really lucky to land the role, and it had been thanks to you. You were the Stephen King fan, you had goaded him into reading the book, which made him want to try out for the role. You really were the biggest part of his life.

James wasn’t able to find anything that he could use to woo you, so he laid back on the bed, once again playing with the feather until you came back into the room, hair damp against your head, skin slightly red-tone from the warm water. As he watched you come in, he sat up slowly, the feather sticking to the side of his head without his realization. So when you looked back at him, you had to stifle your laughter, sticking to a grin instead.

“Do you forgive me for being a grumpy jackass?” He asked, a nervous smile playing at the corner of his lips. You, wearing your cutest pair of pajamas, climbed onto the bed beside him, and blew the feather out of his hair. It flew up, but then landed right down on his lap, as if it didn’t want to leave him, which was pretty amusing.

“I guess so, chicken boy,” You giggled, picking up the feather and tickled his chin with it.

[kaylathekittykat225]

Covert Feelings Exposed // Tim Drake!Robin X Reader

Warning/s: Just, being sad or upset, kinda fluff sorta I don’t know

Word Count: 3158

Hey guys, am not dead, sorry. Still working on my Steve Harrington one, because it just WON’T STOP GROWING. Anyway, I just really need to accept an ending and be done. Okay, onwards with Tim Drake.

Here’s my Masterlist.

ALSO! T/F/C is your two favorite colors.

-----

Another covert mission gone wrong; the covertness was what went wrong really.

All you guys had to do was get in, break down the central main frame and get out without making a fuss. Beast Boy made sure that wasn't a thing.

The team did manage to complete the mission and take down another one of the Light's mini Headquarters, but they were getting harder and harder to take down and more of your team members have taken more damage the harder the missions become to stay covert. 

But everyone was here safe and sound, no one physically hurt, other than Bart coming home with a gash over his head and a strong talking down to from Nightwing.

Emotionally was a completely different story. 

"Alright everyone, hit the showers while you can, I think we all deserved it after that dip in the septic tanks we all the work we did today." Nightwing told his team, exhaustion telling his body to sleep, but still being able to chuckle to himself quietly as he watched half the team race each other to the bathrooms for first dibs while the other half left to go to their rooms and just wait for a free shower. 

With everyone leaving the main hall, that left you, Robin, and Nightwing in the main hall of Mount Justice. The two of them turned away from you and began to have a hushed conversation making sure that you were out of ear shot, ignoring your presence and leaving you to stand alone to the side. 

You took the hint that your presence wasn't wanted and left to be on your own. 

But, unlike what you thought, your leaving didn't go unnoticed. Robin kept his eyes trained on you while he pretended to listen to Nightwing. 

He noticed how your uniform was filthy, covered in mud and dirt, your hair was everywhere you wouldn't normally want it to be, your entire physique sluggish and beaten down. 

You didn't look like you.

"Go check on Y/S/N, would you, Tim?" Robin turned to look at his leader and friend and saw Nightwing noticing your leave as well. "She needs her best friend." 

Nodding, the young Robin ran after you; his cape fluttering behind him, his footsteps silent from sheer instinct of being trained by the light-footed Bruce Wayne. 

He followed you into the lounge and found you trying to hide in the couch, your body sprawled over the plush furniture with your arms spread across the back of the couch and your head leaning against the back the couch.

Robin stepped over your legs that you had propped up on the table and fell onto the couch next to you. "Heya, Y/S/N." He greeted you, his legs sliding up onto the couch and slipping his feet under your leg and he kept his eyes on you, watching your every move.

You hummed quietly back in reply, never moving your body on the comfy couch, leaving Tim to continue watching you.

In the long silence, Tim took in every bit of your face that he could see, thinking back to the time when you two first really met, to him it was just the start of another day at Gotham academy for him. 

Tim made his way into Gotham Academy, like any other day, he was roughly fifteen minutes ear, leaving time for him to grab his books from his locker that he left in there overnight. 

Unlike how every other morning began, Tim hear someone screaming madly, the screaming only coming closer to him. "Look out!" The black-haired sophomore looked up from his phone and saw someone on a long board barrelling towards him. "Can't stop! Can't stop!" They screamed as they swerved towards him uncontrollably on the piece of wood on wheels.

Tim jumped out of the way, his Robin instincts gave him more than enough time to move himself from being a point of impact while also dropping his bag and reaching out towards the person on the skateboard. Tim wouldn't be surprised if, with how fast the person was rolling, they would have killed themselves against the wall behind him. 

"Oh thank God," The person Tim now had tucked into his chest breathed out a sigh of relief as the two of them watched the skateboard clatter against the brick wall. 

"You okay?" Tim inquired as the person ran away from his body, their sudden warmth leaving him a little colder than he was a minute ago, and grabbed their board, giving Tim a full view of you. 

"Yeah, thanks for grabbing me, would have been a pancake on that wall. Oh, I'd be a wallcake! You flashed a happy grin at him, showing how you didn't seem phased by the almost dying bit. He saw the T/F/C bares in your mouth, the smile running up to your E/C eyes, causing them to sparkle as you laughed. 

"Yeah, it's no problem, glad I could save you from being a wall cake." He chuckled, his arm scratching the back of his neck, still hearing at you and seeing what you looked like, knowing he had seen you before but just couldn't place you. "Oh, I'm um, I'm Tim, Tim Drake." He explained his name, extending his hand out towards you, waiting for you to take it. 

"Nice to finally talk to you, Tim, I'm Y/N Y/L/N." As you took his hand, your name hung in his head, his eyes squinting and head giving a slight tilt to the left as he tried to fix where he knew you from. "You know should really turn around in Chemistry and English more often." 

"Oh, Oh yeah!" You giggled as your name and face finally clicked in his mind, his blue eyes shining in the early morning sun light. "I guess I just never talked to you before."

"Funny since you've run into me at least three times this past week," You smiled cheekily at him, watching a light blush brush his cheeks. "I don't blame you since your nose is always in that phone of yours, I'm sure texting either your mother, your best friend or a potential girlfriend." 

"I'm...it’s...I'm not-I don't have a-"

"Whoa, is this what it's like to be tall?" You saw you made him uncomfortable, and being you, decided to stand on your long board and skate circles around him to relieve the tension you caused, it wasn't wrong for you to assume the nice-looking Drake to have a significant other. "Wow, the weather is so much better up here than at Y/H."

Tim finally crackled a smile, smiling down at the ground and watched your skateboard circle around him, finally getting to see the white sandpaper like grip and the scarlet wheels, an extremely gorgeous board. "Are you new to skateboarding?" 

"Yes and no, I've been skateboarding since I was seven, but I took time off and I got a new board and just got back on it like a couple days ago blah blah blah, yeah, I over estimated my skateboarding awesomeness I had as muscle memories give or take two years ago." The bell rang inside the school, signalling a five-minute warning to get to your classes. You two smiled at each other and walked into the courtyard, Tim keeping close to your side to make sure you didn't try becoming a wallcake again that day.

Three years later, you two were best friends, tackling Senior year together with your skateboard still a fun memory in your closet. Tim blinked his eyes, breaking himself out of that weird trance he goes to when he stares off into space and looked back over to you. 

You hadn't moved an inch since he walked in, your breathing the only bit of movement telling him that you were still alive. "Y/N," He whispered your name, gently moving his foot that was still wedged under your leg to see if you were responsive. "Y/N, you asleep over there?"

Groaning in response, you leaned forward and pulled your F/C domino mask from your face, tossing it on the table and proceeded to rub your eyes forcefully. "No," You mumbled to give him a concise response, your movements were rigid and forceful as you pulled both your heeled boots and your gloves next to your mask. 

He continued to watch you, observing and noting everything you did. Your eyes were dull as you pulled the tight boots off, your hands trembling as you finally pulled them free of the leather of your gloves. 

You still didn't look like you.

"You okay?" Tim reached over and gently laid his hand on your shoulder, rubbing his thumb against your back. 

You breathed in a little too deeply and the air quickly and shakily sputtered out between your lips, your shuddery breaths now beginning to shake your body. "No," you whined as you curled yourself up into as small of a ball as you could and laid your head down on Tim's lap, staring at the black TV just behind the tips of his boots.

"What's wrong love bug?" Tim whispered to you as he took his gloves off and began running his slim fingers through your hair, pulling out the leaves and bits of mud and tangles in your hair. You didn't give him a straightforward answer right away, what did happen however was that Tim's leg quickly broke out in goosebumps as you began tracing an endless circle on his thigh with your index finger. 

"It's just...getting so hard." Your meek voice cut through the silent air; Tim looked down at you as you finally spoke. Just the look on your face answered what you meant, and he couldn't help the sigh of agreement. 

"I know it is, love bug, it's getting hard for all of us. But we're almost there, Nightwing says only a few more until we finally can infiltrate their systems and drive them down." Humming, you turned your body around and nuzzled your face into his stomach. 

It took so long for Tim to get used to how touchy you were, being in from the Bat Family, it was not a thing to be cuddly and expect a hug when you're feeling down. Tim just had to keep his head up and pretend nothing was wrong. 

But when you finally broke through to him, he loved having you there to be able to hug. He had suppressed his need for physical touch for so long that he relished every chance he got to hug you or whenever you needed a movie cuddle buddy.

He loved your body touching his, but looking down at you, he knew that you need him right now more than anything else in the world. Tim had grown to know you so well that he could look at your face, even if it was half hidden in his stomach, and know when you needed quiet or you needed someone to ask you what was wrong. 

"Has it just all hit you at once?" Tim asked quietly as he brushed a small piece of hair behind your ear, smiling as you leaned into the touch of his hand. 

"Mmm," Your jaw clenched as you tried biting back the words, you wanted to talk so badly, but you also knew that as soon as you opened your mouth, you would just remember how your two best friends almost died right before your eyes. "Bart's so stupid." 

Tim chuckled at your comment, "You can say that again." You couldn't laugh though; Tim didn't see it like you did. 

"The idiot tripped and almost got himself killed," The words stumbled out of your mouth and you were there again, watching as one the Black Mantra's men had a gun pointed directly at the young brunette who befriended you almost as soon as he stepped out of the time machine. "He was too busy gloating about hitting his new PR for punching fifteen guys before Jaime could get one hit in and he didn't see the gun pointed right at him.

"I was so scared, Tim, I never ran so fast in my life towards him, I...I pushed him out of the gun's path and he just looked at me like I ruined his streak or something. But I can't look at him now without seeing how he almost died. Tim, he almost died, and he doesn't even know how close he was to death taking him. I don't know how I could hav-we lost Artemis; I couldn't lose him to." 

The tears were freely falling down your face, your eyes staring at the red color of his uniform. A warm and gentle hand trace under your eyes, swiping the tears from your face. You looked up and saw the masked face of the third Robin staring down at you, a small smile gracing his face, making him look a little more carefree than how he should be as a superhero. 

You reached your hand up and brushed your fingertips against his temple as you pulled his black mask off, his bright blue met your E/C one's and you felt your own eyes get heavy again. He was right, everything was just hitting you now.

"I don't know why I'm crying over Bart; he does this almost every mission, endangering himself and everyone." You were finally able to let out a strained laugh, your eyes still tearing up, but you did feel better. 

Tim quietly whined as you sat up, feeling cold without you pressed to him like you were, your back to him now. "It's cause you were scared for him, Y/N. And you care for him, you were scared that Bart would get hurt like we all do, and you didn't want that."

You slowly turned back to him, nodding in agreement since even you didn't know why you were feeling this way. Tim opened his arms out towards you, becoming you back into his warm body, both of you wanting to feel each other's presence again. The smile didn't leave your face as you leaned towards him, his arms wrapping tight around you and pulled your body to sit on his lap.

"You know we both need to go shower; I feel disgusting and I smell horrible." Your actions did not match your words as you wiggle your arms around his toned chest, hugging himself to you as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck to enjoy his natural musk. 

"Well I think you smell fine," Tim chuckled, looking down at you after he pressed a kiss to your forehead, seeing your own smile shining back at him. He was glad to be able to bring you out of your little rut. 

Looking at your teeth, he couldn't help the other laugh that came over him, "What? Do I have mud on my face? I really do need to go shower." You exclaimed while trying to pull away from your best friend, but his grip only tightened around you. 

"No, I was just...remember when you had those god-awful T/F/Ced braces?" The scowl on your face told him that yes, you did remember the metal painfully pulling at your mouth. 

"Oh, you mean the ones that made my mouth look like the grill of a car? Yes, Timothy, I remember them every clearly." You absentmindedly ran your tongue over your teeth, comparing how smooth they were now in comparison to how they use to feel. 

"Yeah, they looked horrible!" 

You lightly poked Tim's shoulder, "I'm the one with three years' worth of pictures of me in them, don't make fun of me."

Tim's chest lightly vibrated as he chuckled at the pile of pictures he saved on his computer he's using later for blackmail. Gosh how much he loves you; he always had those thought running through his head, and like any other day he thought he only whispered that in his head.

Unlike any other day, he didn't just whisper it in his head. "Hmm?" Your eyes opened and met his light blue ones, alight rose hue dusted across his cheeks as he tried recovering from saying that. 

"Well-you know-I only meant it-you see-" His stuttering over his words was cute, but what made your heart melt at how cute he was when you giggled before you echoed the phrase back at him. 

"I love you, too, Tim." If his shocked eyes could widen any more than they already were, they did.

"You-you do?" You smiled at him and nodded your head happily, your heart bursting with joy at the smile on his face. "I love you! I love you so much! And you love me too!" Tim screamed like an excited five-year-old on his birthday as he stood to his feet, still holding your body to his chest as he spun you around. Your arms moved up to his neck as you held tightly to him, your giggling no ceasing as he spun the two of you dizzy in the middle of the lounge. 

The overly excited Tm placed your feet on the floor, as soon as your jello like feet hit the ground, Tim gently laid his hand on your cheek and pulled you towards him to kiss him, his other hand pulling you closer to him rested at the top of your hip.

You hummed happily as you kept your arms around his neck, your head was still spinning but right now all that mattered was you and Tim kissing in the middle of Mount Justice without anyone bugging you two. 

Dick Grayson leaned against the door frame leading from the kitchen to the lounge with his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smile very apparent on his face while he watched his adopted little brother kiss you in the lounge. Honestly, it took them long enough to get together, Tim was always so fond of the young super. He acted more like a teenager and less like a nighttime vigilante with you around. 

Feeling like living up to his name, the black dressed man quietly stepped up on the two and wrapped his arms around you two, promptly being the reason for breaking the kiss, a loud shriek coming from one of you. 

Probably Tim. 

"I wanted to join in the happy moment," He coyly grinned down at the pair of you, your face going red before you hide it in Tim's chest, Tim's blue eyes still wide in shock as a blush graved his own face. 

"Dick!" 

"What have I told you all about that word!" M'gann's voice joined the group from the kitchen, Dick began threw his head back in laughter while you tired hiding your now red ears and Tim glared at his brother while trying to pull the two of you away from him. 

This was a much better ending to the day than how you originally thought it would.