#not where I live but near his friend's house

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

*no special chapter tags*

read below or on ao3

Day 9: 2020

When Tommy walked into his house he immediately knew something was wrong.

Mostly due to the large quantity of boxes near the front door. Last time he checked, he wasn't moving.

He dropped his duffel and continued into the living room, where the sound of Africa by Toto echoed through the house.

“Whatcha doing, Joe?” Tommy asked, causing the man closing up a box on the floor to jump.

He stared at Tommy, wide eyed. “Alexa, turn off!” The music shut off quickly, leaving the two of them in uncomfortable silence. “I- I didn't think you'd be home for another hour.”

“It was weirdly quiet today so they let me leave a little early.” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing, Joe?”

“Tommy, I... It's not you, okay, it's-”

Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “You were, what, gonna leave without even telling me? Have me come home to an empty house and you're just gone?”

Joe sighed, stepping closer to Tommy. As he did, Tommy took a step back. “Tommy, it's- we rushed into this. We both know that. It was fun, for a while, but it's... I don't know, it's not the same.”

“I didn't even know anything was wrong, Joey!” Tommy exclaimed. He reached out and flipped the top of an open box. “You weren't gonna at least try to explain yourself first?”

“I really didn't expect you to be surprised!” Joe replied, his voice rising now as well. “We barely see each other, Tommy! We both have weird schedules, rarely eat a meal together, and half the time I wake up you're asleep in the guest bedroom!”

“Because I don't want to wake you when I get home late! I was trying to let you sleep.”

“I'd rather sleep with my partner!”

Joe breathed in slowly, then held his hands up in surrender. “Tommy, I- you only asked me to move in because of covid-”

“No, I asked you to move in because I wanted to be with you and I was pretty sure you felt the same way.”

“I do, Tommy.”

Tommy scoffed, turning away and heading for the kitchen. Joe followed behind him.

“Hey, I do- did feel the same! But we'd only known each other for a few months, Tommy, and then covid happened and I agreed to move in because I wanted to get to see you but I didn't think it through. We didn't think it all through!”

Tommy opened the fridge, reaching in for a beer. He popped the lid and took a sip, then set it on the counter. He stayed quiet, staring down at the glass bottle.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” Joe asked.

Tommy shrugged. “Not really sure what you want me to say, Joe, you didn't even want me to know you were leaving.”

Joe brought a hand to the back of his neck, trying to massage away the tension. “Listen, I- I want you to be happy, Tommy. I do care about you and I lo- I like you, but this has not been a relationship for a while. I was lying in bed the other night, alone, and I realized I don't know anything about you. You don't talk about your family, I've never met a single one of your friends or co-workers, I don't know anything about how you grew up or what you did before you became a firefighter.”

“I told you, I was a-”

“I know,” Joe interrupted. “A pilot in the army. That's all I ever got.” Joe moved around the counter to get closer to Tommy. Hesitantly, he reached out and put his hand over Tommy's forearm. “Tommy, you are a wonderful person,” his grip tightened when Tommy rolled his eyes and went to walk away. “No, I'm serious. You're a good listener, you're attentive, thoughtful, funny, and a bitch in the best way, but it's not. It's not what I need. And when you let yourself think about it, I'm not what you need either.”

With his free hand, Tommy fidgeted with his beer bottle. “Great day to choose to move out,” he grumbled.

“You don't even celebrate Christmas, Tommy,” Joe replied, his voice staying calm but firm. “Honestly didn't think you'd care about what particular day it was.”

Joe wasn't totally wrong, Tommy did make his hatred of Christmas well known. But what he didn't know was Tommy asked if he could leave a little early. He planned on making them a nice dinner, just like the one his mom used to make. He wanted to try and have a good Christmas for the first time in a long time. He'd even bought Joe a gift. Tucked into his pocket were reservations to a cabin in northern California. He planned on flying them there himself. They'd be going for Valentine's.

Tommy felt hot, and overwhelmed, and like the house was too small and too big all at once. His eyes were starting to get a little blurry and he desperately needed to get out of there.

“I'm gonna go for a walk,” he said, clearing his throat. He freed himself from Joe's grasp and wiped at his eyes, hurrying toward the door with his head down. “I'll be a couple hours, probably. I'll, um, I'll see ya, Joey.”

He managed to get out and shut the door behind him, part of him hoping that Joe would follow. Chase after him. Yell for him to come back, for them to talk, to fight, to figure this out.

But he didn't.

And Tommy walked.

He walked and walked and walked until the sun had set and all the streetlights came on.

Then he went back to a quiet house. A spare key on the kitchen counter as his only reminder that, for eight months, he wasn't here alone.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex,  Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

A/N: The first few chapters will be just plot. Smut lovers need to wait until chapter 5. Also, a couple of readers that wanted to be tagged I couldn't tag you. Your name wouldn't pop up for me to click on.

“Last box,” Hobi said, bringing in the last of your belongings and placing it on your kitchen table that you pulled out of your parent’s dusty storage unit earlier in the day. 

As much as you love Hobi, you couldn't live with him forever in his small two bedroom apartment anymore. Jungkook had texted you about a house that he had recently renovated on a plot of land that they owned near the neighboring Tannie Farms. He had offered to rent it to you before putting it out there for the public. He said he would rather have family in it and not some stranger that he can't trust.  You quickly accepted his offer and started packing your clothes the same day. Hobi begged you to stay a little longer, but you know that you were holding him back. Your social butterfly of a best friend started to cancel plans and dates to stay with you because you wanted to become a hermit and not leave your bed. It wasn't fair. You wanted him to happily live his life, and you knew he wouldn't if you were still there.

Your mother and father, thankfully, offered to let you raid their garage and storage unit for anything that you wanted to take for your new home. It was mostly junk that they were glad to get rid of. This way, they didn't have to worry about how they were going to throw it away. You came away with an old dark oak table and a couple of matching chairs that both wobbled a little bit. You are going to need to shove something under the legs to stabilize them. You also took a lumpy couch that used to be white in color but has since turned a dingy gray color after being stored away for so many years. Your old mattress from high school that you're almost positive will kill your back but is better than sleeping on the floor and a dresser whose drawers won't open without a fight. You did, however, pass on a large area rug due to the fact that it smelled like something had died in it.  They weren't the best, but it was better than having nothing at all. You'll be able to save up for better furniture later for your new house at a later date.

The two story white farmhouse with black rustic looking shutters was absolutely beautiful, and you fell in love as soon as you saw it. It was tucked away on a back road that was pure dirt several miles out of the main town square where it sat on perfectly manicured green grass. The wrap-around porch was decorated with various potted flowers, both big and small, in a range of beautiful colors. Large black solar powered lanterns lay scattered along around the perimeter of the dark wooden porch that emits a warm glow after sunset, setting a cozy and welcoming atmosphere.  A large porch swing sat on the back of the porch has a perfect view of Tannie Farms in the far horizon where their crops seem to go on forever. Where the stalks of corn sway in the breeze around the various tractors and other farm equipment that sat in their cornfield. It was a picture-perfect view.

The house itself had large floor to ceiling windows with french doors that have matching black trim all encased in brand new white siding. Inside, the new hardwood floors and freshly painted beige walls were perfectly clean and crisp looking. He was able to give it the perfect blend of modern and cozy at the same time. However, the best part was the quiet. It was so serene and peaceful that you were afraid that the silence might scare you after being away from it for so many years. You never got to have serene or peaceful when you lived in the city in a busy apartment complex along the main street of a popular area. Sirens, honking cars and yelling were a part of your everyday life. After a few months, they just became background noise that blurred into your daily life. Changkyun also always preferred to have friends over at all hours for drinks and music. He didn't care if you needed to sleep or if you had to get up early. He only cared about impressing his friends. You couldn't even complain, or it would start a fight. He told you all the time that you were not on the lease, so it wasn't your decision. It was miserable, and looking back, you don't know why you stayed as long as you did. 

There was, however, just one thing that Jungkook seemed to have forgotten to tell you about until after you had signed the contract and handed it back to him. That your one…singular neighbor, who you also have to share a large driveway with happened to be Min Yoongi. You thought it was a well thought out move on his end. Kook said that you wouldn't even see him since he is pretty much at the farm most of the day. It didn't really help put you at ease, but it didn't scare you away either.  It was time to grow up and move forward. Like Hobi has said. You were adults, and it's time to put all the bullshit away.

“Coming through,” Jungkook called out as he and Tae came through your door carrying your super old double mattress from high school.  

They head up stairs carrying it above their heads as you follow behind them and enter your bedroom. They toss it on the floor, and you can see a cloud of dust fly out of it. The particles linger suspended in the air. You'll have to figure out how to clean it later.  The guys look at each other and then around the bare room in confusion. You ignore them and push the mattress into the corner of your room with your foot and give them a smile. 

“What?” You ask them as you watch them as they continue to look around the barren room. “What's the matter?” 

“Don't you have a bed frame?” Tae asks, scratching his head.

“Or a box spring?” Kook added a second later.

“No, I didn't see them earlier. I think my mom might have gotten rid of them. It's not a big deal. I’m just happy I don't have to sleep on the hard floor or the lumpy couch,” you say with a shrug. Down stairs, you hear a crash and something break.

“I'll buy you a new one,” Joon called up the stairs.

You sigh and head back downstairs to see what your loveable but clumsy friend broke. Thankfully, it was just a vase used for decoration that you had bought on sale and held no sentimental value. Shooing him away from the mess, you take over the clean-up carefully, avoiding cutting yourself of the sharp shards of colorful glass. 

You couldn't be more thankful for them than you already were. You were thankful for Jin when he dropped off dinner for you since you haven't gotten geroceries yet. You were thankful for Jungkook for offering you the house.  Also, for everyone else who helped you move things from your parent's storage unit and garage to the house doing all the heavy lifting for you. You really did love them. They were here. They never gave up on you. 

“Are you going to be okay here alone? What if it's haunted?” Hobi asked, giving you wide, scared eyes. “You can always stay one more night with me if you're scared. You know I don't mind.”

“It's not haunted,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes.

“Besides, she’s not completely alone,” Jimin said, looking at you with a knowing smirk and a wink. “Yoongi is just right over there.”

You curse yourself for letting it slip to Jimin one drunken night bar hopping in college that you may have found Yoongi attractive. You distinctly remember him and Kook playing darts in one of the darkened bars that your group frequented. You remember the way he bit his lip in concentration as his fingers held the dart, his dark hair falling over a red headband around his forehead.  You just blurted it out loud without thinking as you sat with Jimin at a little table against the wall. The little shit never let you live it down when the two of you were alone. You are actually surprised, though, that it still seems to be a secret between only the two of you. You guess you can be thankful for that.

“I'll be fine,” you tell him, dismissing his concerns. “You guys can go. I have the first day of school tomorrow, and I need to get things around.”

Namjoon had agreed and helped round everyone up by the kitchen door. After a round of goodbyes and thank yous, you waved from your kitchen door as they dispersed. Kook, Tae, and Jimin went next door to Yoongi’s and the others left in their cars.  You collapsed on your lumpy couch with a sigh. Closing your eyes,  you tell yourself you'll unpack tomorrow. Laying there, you take in the quietness of the house.  It was something that you would have to get used to. There was no extra body puttering around and making background noise. No, Hobi, singing early in the morning as he got ready for work. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock were the only things that could be heard. For the first time, it was just you. You had never lived alone, but you felt excited to see how you were going to do. It was going to be a welcomed new adventure, and you couldn't wait to see how you'll do.

You stand on the sidewalk in front of the school with your students smashed together in a yellow square that was taped off just for them as you waited for their parents to pick them up. Your first day of school went surprisingly well for the most part. When Joon found out you were back in town for good, he offered you a teaching position at your old elementary school where you had once attended. The exact same one where Jin and Hobi became your best friends. Where Jin shared his sandwich with you when you forgot your lunch in the third grade. Where you had to beat up some little boy for making fun of Hobi's shoes when you were six. You don't even remember his name now, but you gave him a bloody nose, and your dad had to pick you up early. It was a lot smaller than what you remembered. It always seemed so big when you were younger and playing on the playground, running around laughing, playing tag. When you all were so innocent and free back then. 

You were initially excited that you didn't have to job hunt in the surrounding school districts, but you went into panic mode when Namjoon dropped the bomb on you. It was for Pre-K. You never taught such young kids before. You always had fourth graders in the past. Ten year olds. Ten year olds who could, for the most part, listen when they wanted to and take care of themselve. They didn't need to be taught to walk in a straight line or to raise their hand if they needed something. They knew how to zip their coats, put on gloves, and tie their shoes. These were some things that you never thought about having to teach, but yet here you were.

You didn't know anything about four year olds. All that you knew was that they were loud and sticky, and their bathroom habits were iffy at best. Thankfully, Joon, pretty much did your entire months worth of lesson plans for you, mostly to bribe you into saying yes to his job offer. All you had to do was follow his directions until you got the hang of it for yourself. Coloring, writing their name, singing, and dancing it all seemed pretty simple. Seven hours of playtime, easy, peasy. 

Not quite. A few things you learned today were that they like to run and you need better antiperspirant. Do not..... repeat..... do not wear heels again. No matter how short you think the heel is….it's still too tall. You will need to buy several pairs of comfy flats and tennis shoes.   Always do head count because you might have thought you lost one child between the art room and your classroom. Turns out he was just hiding under a table in the corner of the room. However, when it was all said and done, there were no tears from either you or the kids. You will take it as a win. 

“Bye, Jae,” you say, waving at your last student that was picked up by her parents. You let out a sigh of relief as you watched them walk away as she held their hands, skipping between them. Good riddance, and now you get to do it all again tomorrow.

“Y/n,” a voice said your name, making you turn toward it. You smile slightly when you see the school’s music teacher standing behind you. 

“Yes, can I help you…” You trail off, clearly not remembering his name.

“Shinwon,” he said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You politely shake his hand and look at him expectly. “I just wanted to check in and see how your first day was. I know a new school and new city can be intimidating.”

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I grew up around here so…not new. I know this place very well.”

“Oh,” he said with a surprised smile, and he tilted his head to the side like he was amused. “I was going to offer to show you around our little sleepy town, but I guess you know it better than I do, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say with a shrug and look around, trying to find a way to get out of this conversation when you spot Namjoon, who was walking to his car. When you finally catch his attention, he just waves at you happily before getting into his car. You think you see him laughing. Jerk. 

“Well, then maybe you can show me some hidden gems around here,” he says and hands you his phone. “Here, put your number in, and I'll text you mine.”

You take his phone and input your information very reluctantly. You consider giving him a fake number, but that would probably make things super awkward later. You hand it back to him, and he smiles brilliantly at you, his perfect teeth on display. You watch as his fingers fly across the screen before he looks back up to you.

“I sent you a text,” he tells you. “Maybe we can hang out someday. We could possibly go into the city and do something?”

“Listen, I just got out of a relationship,” you started to tell him, but he cut you off.

“No, problem,” he said, still smiling. “It doesn't have to be a date. We can do something just as friends. Friends have dinner all the time. Maybe we can even see a movie one night.”

“Maybe, if I can find the time,” you say with a tight smile. “I should go, but it was nice meeting you.”

You turn on your heel and quickly walk away as fast as your aching feet can carry you, leaving him standing there alone. Yup, definitely tennis shoes from now on. You will be able to keep up with the kiddos better and, more importantly, run away from men faster. Perfect.

Getting out of your car, you grimace as your aching feet hit the hard cement of the garage floor. You didn't mean to slam your car door so hard as you begin to limp and waddle your way up to your house in a desperate need to soak your feet in your tub. You can almost sigh in satisfaction at the thought of the hot water surrounding you as you lie there in the clawfoot tub until your fingers turn pruny. As the hot, steaming water relaxes your muscles, taking away the ache from your feet as you drop a bath bomb that fizzes while listening to music and maybe…probably drink some wine. 

“Bad first day of school?” You recognize Yoongi's voice behind you, causing you to freeze. You're embarrassed that he caught you walking like an idiot. 

“No,” you answer truthfully as you give him a surprised look when you turn to look at him.

“It is the first day, right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you before popping the hood of a side-by-side that sat on his side of the driveway. “Joon mentioned something about it yesterday.”

“Yeah, umm… it was pretty good. I might have a blister and an unwanted admirer, but hey, no one stuck anything where it didn't belong. So, good day.” You explain not expecting the conversation to go much further.

You were surprised when he actually started laughing. You don't think you have ever made Min Yoongi laugh. It was a good look on him. You wouldn't mind if he did more around you.

“Please tell me it's not some single dad?” he asks once he stops laughing. He uses the wrench in his hand to tinker around with mechanical things that are beyond your knowledge. You can drive a car but that's about it. You just pray that you never get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Triple A is a thing, right? 

“Worse, the music teacher. He offered to show me around town,” you say with a nod of your head. “Like what was he going to show me? Jin’s cafe?” 

“I mean. We do have a new hardware store in town,” he informs you while he concentrates on his task. “Maybe he can show you where the screws are.”

A small silence falls between the two of you as you look around in contemplation.

“Is that..” You start but pause for a second, and you feel your face heat up. “Is that supposed to be sexual?”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” he said innocently and smirked at you as his eyes met yours through the fallen blonde hair in his eyes. He shakes it out of his vision and continues with his task.  You shake your head at him, limping and waddling your way up the stairs to your house. “Wait, I have some of your mail. Let me go get it.”

You lean your hands against the railing of the porch as he disappears in his house. You take turns lifting each foot off the ground behind you and giving it a little wiggle, hoping to find some sort of relief. He better hurry because all you want to do is sit down. You continue your little foot routine when you hear the squeak of his screen door open and Yoongi walks across the driveway to you. Reaching up, he hands you a singular piece of mail over your railing that you take from him, and he retreats back to the side-by-side. You sigh in annoyance when you see what he gave you.

“To the current resident….” You say loudly. “Do you need to lower your cable costs? You really felt the need to give me this junk mail?”

“It would have been a federal offense if I hadn't,” he answered while not even looking at you. 

“Well, thanks,” you say sarcastically and turn back toward the house. You pull out your mess of keys that jingle and jangle with too many keychains as you unlock your door. 

“Y/N,” Yoongi calls out again, making you look over your shoulder at him once again. “I would have helped…you know….yesterday when you moved in. I just figured that you wouldn't want me there.”

That made you feel horrible. You felt like a horrible human being who is still acting childish over some weird grudge from college. If what Hobi said was true, it was only one-sided on your part. Your shoulders slump just a little bit before you turn back to him once again. His hands are fiddling with that wrench looking a little nervous as he tries not to stare at you for too long. The wrench makes quite the clicking sound as he turns it over and over again as he twirls it with his finger. He glances up at you quickly before turning his eyes back to the silver tool in his hand. 

“I appreciate it,” you tell him as you tap that piece of junk mail on the palm of your opposite hand just as nervous. “Maybe, if you want to, that is. Maybe we can start over again and actually try to be friends for once.”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” he rambles, agreeing with you, trying to nod his head nonchalantly. “Hey, are you going to help out at the Farmers Market again? The guys think you will bring more business in.”

“I highly doubt that, but yeah, I can come and help again,” you answer with a nod of your head. “Have a good evening, Yoongi,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

“You too,” he says, eyes watching you until you unlock the door.

Finally, getting into your house, you close the door and lock it behind you. You reach down undo the straps of your shoes and proceed to kick them off with a careless fling of your foot, not caring where they land as you hear them hit the floor with a thump. You waddle your way to that old dirty couch and flop down unceremoniously with a groan. You think your aching feet hurt more now than they did in the heels. Your nice hot bath with your wine and the bath bomb is going to have to wait until you get enough motivation to stand up, and that might not be anytime soon. You might have to put off unpacking one more day. 

You turn your head and look out your living room window. You can see Yoongi with the top half of his body bent over and working away on the vehicle on his side of the driveway. You never thought in a million years that you would be friends with the cute, popular basketball player turned handsome neighbor. You smile a little as you continue to stare at him, and you think you might feel a little fluttering in your stomach. You're going to have to squish those butterflies. That flapping, flitting feeling that you haven't felt in years makes your body tingle in excitement.  Your heart was not ready for that feeling. It wasn't ready at all. 

Tagged Readers

@mar-lo-pap, @bontensbabygirl, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs, @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld,

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Seventeen - Anger Issues

Part Sixteen

———

Prior to becoming a pilot, Harold Jackson, callsign Hound, had been an enlisted officer for the United States Army. It was all he had ever known really, his father had been in the army and they moved from base to base like any other military family. The housing was similar enough that each room felt like his own and life was always chaotic but simple. From coast to coast and in other countries, he was content with that life. 

The Quintessons attacked when he was still young, the first response was with military action, the Air Force and Navy, naval pilots were the first to scout the enomally off of Hawai’i. The aircraft carrier the USS Enterprise which had been in the North Arabian Sea on exercise with German, French, and British forces, was the first thing attacked by the foreign invader. When the first call from Hawai’i reached them, they redirected the course to provide assistance. It sustained too much damage to remain in operation but its nuclear reactor was safely removed before its decommission. It was one of ten aircraft carriers in the pacific and Indian oceans during that time, many sustain unrecoverable damages.

With the Cold War in active swing, it was difficult to initially adjust focus, but once they started to attack cities most powers were redirecting their focuses away from the arms race and into the mechanical suit race. Just another angle initially, which eventually turned into government cooperation.

Hound had enlisted at eighteen, understanding only some of what was happening and signing up for the compatibility testing after bootcamp. It was around that same time when Hound got married, though the wait for his mech suit was longer than his marriage. His father had signed up for the testing as well and was found non-compatible, he was medically discharged not long after. Hound knew how much it broke his father to not be compatible, both in spirit and body, he didn’t understand how hard the test was until he was in it. No one comes out the other side of compatibility the same person. 

His ex-wife lives in a “protected city” somewhere in Colorado, specifically away from coastal regions and major epicenters, near to a mech suit outpost for the marines. She was receiving housing and funding from Mecha on behalf of Hound to ensure her safety, her and his father, it’s one of the many reasons he agreed to head the Arcturus One mission. He may not love her and she may hate him, but he didn’t want to see her remains on the next cover report, hers or his fathers. It was hard not to care when the person used to be your best friend, no matter what they did to lose that place or what you did. 

—

Hound had fallen back asleep in command, tipped back in his chair while the others had talked, Megatron’s explanation dying off when his head began to droop. The lights in his cockpit were off, but he remained in his chair, leaning back comfortably enough. It was nice enough until a shrill voice woke him up, “Sir, Hound isn’t at camp.” Sideswipe was the most frustrating person to him at that very moment, groaning quietly as he tipped the chair back up, “That’s because he was here, discussing plans with us.” Megatron stood, now sober and feeling improved from last night. Hound took the moment to stretch and stand, “Sideswipe, I would suggest checking everywhere or comming me before jumping to conclusions.” He walks over and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you for the concern though. Nodding some, Sideswipe sighs, “Breakdown woke us all up not knowing where you were,” “Breakdown?” It was almost hard to tell that Sideswipe looped sheepish, but the body language was easy enough to read, “He left medical this morning, to much protest from Knockout. I think the medic is still yelling at him for being a ‘big wreckless oaf’.” He chuckles and with a sigh, Hound nods to Megatron before heading out of command. 

Yelling was certainly one way of putting it, Knockout was shrieking at Breakdown who was now sitting near the heater, his head hanging down. Sighing, Hound jogged over, “Alright, enough. Why are you screaming, Doctor?” He moved and stood between them, “Breakdown won’t let me run a systems check, he says everything is fine but his arm is hardly attached.” Knockout rested his hands on his hips, jaw set. Sighing deeply, Hound nodded, “Because your systems will crash ours, I’m sorry if this is inconvenient but it's for his safety that he turns it down.” Raising a hand, Hound stops Knockout, “But, he is off duty until further notice. Once we’re back in Iacon we’ll finish repairs but he’ll be on the bench for a while.” Breakdown looked up, “What?” Hound really just wanted to hit his head against a wall, “We’re going to keep following typical standards, two weeks at least of light duty.” Now both of them were angry and it was draining. 

“Alright, enough!” Hound holds up his hands, “Knockout, if Breakdown were to stay in the medical tent until we return to Iacon, would that make you happy?” Knockout stopped and nodded, “Yes, of course.” “Hound,” Breakdown steps forward and Hound turns to him, “You should be resting regardless, your two weeks start now. Go lay down, that is in fact an order.” He could almost feel the bitterness rolling off of Breakdown, who turned away, “I swear, once we’ve returned to Iacon we can discuss this but until then, please just rest.” The cold shoulder was like a blizzard or arctic night. Sighing deeply, Hound moved to the others, shaking his head a bit, “If there is no attack today we should be returning to Iacon tonight.” “Thank god for that.” Sideswipe sank back down, rubbing his face, “I’ve got a great plan for something in the apartment.” Groaning, Sunstreaker shook his head, sitting back, “It’s too early for great plans.” “Yeah, well it’s too early to sneak off to talk to the guy who almost killed you.” Hound hits the heater, “Enough arguing! Enough. Just, spread out and take some time away from each other. Please. Let’s wait and see what the projection looks like before we try and kill each other.” He had a headache that was getting worse with every moment of arguing.

Slowly, Sunstreaker walked off, Sideswipe followed though at a distance. Breakdown was back to medical, and Jazz was sitting on the ground near the heater. Sighing, Hound joined him, rubbing his face, “How did you get used to working with other pilots? Or, mechs?” They were all, mostly, used to working solo. The suits were big enough to level a city block at times and more than one was hardly ever needed. Jazz chuckled slightly, “Well, I worked with Prowl solo for about the first six months or so. Not with other strong willed pilots, but still someone with experience.” Nodding a bit, Jazz leans back to stare at the sky, “I also didn’t have a unit of people from diverse backgrounds to command, all I had to do was adjust to one culture. I also didn’t have two pilots who had never been in the military to watch over,” the look almost makes Hound groan, “Their great pilots, but we both know that this is something that’ll take plans they aren’t used to and a lot more orders.” Also looking at the sky, Hound groaned, “I was worried you’d say that.” Jazz snorts, grinning, “Yeah well, you all have a lot of adjustments to make still.” With a hum, Hound threw his arm back over his eyes, still so tired. Yawning, he turns off the lights in his cockpit and turns down his visual feed, “Adjustments I'll start making, after I get some more sleep.” It didn’t take Hound long to fall back asleep, not long at all.

Jazz sat there, smiling a bit, “You’ve already made some Hound.” He glances over towards command where Red Alert and Mirage were talking, Mirage leaning against the wall comfortably, “You just can’t see it yet.” He smiles and moves to be able to watch their surroundings so his friend could sleep easier. Sometimes, the cluelessness of the other pilots drove him mad and sometimes he wondered if they were all just more nearsighted than they looked. 

—

Sunstreaker went and sat with Bluestreak, glancing back over his shoulder at Sideswipe who diverted to sit with a few other mechs, he breathed a sigh of relief. The other mecha sitting with Blue glanced at each other before standing, “Hey, we’re going to go eat. See ya Blue.” One patted him on the shoulder and the other gave him a thumbs up before heading off towards food, talking quietly to each other. Sunstreaker paused, frowning a bit, “Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to chase off your friends.” “What? Oh, no you’re fine!” Bluestreak leans forward some, smiling nervously, he clears his throat a bit, “They’ve been waiting for an excuse to get away.” Sunstreaker chuckled slightly, “I doubt that.” Bluestreak smiled and glanced over towards Sideswipe, frowning, “Look,” “We’re not going to talk about that here.’ Sunny rested his hand over Blue’s, visor brightening, “Later, so, um.” He clears his throat and pulls his hand back, glancing up and away, “Have you ever been to this planet before?” Bluestreak smiled, “Yeah, but it was just for a different fight.” He tries to wave it off, but Sunstreaker turns to him, “Tell me about it.” Bluestreak chuckles lightly, “Uh, why?” The smile couldn’t be kept from Sunstreaker’s face, “The longer I sit here and you don’t try to kill me, the more likely it’ll be that Sides will eventually forgive you.” “Oh.” Nodding slowly, Bluestreak frowned, “You or—humans, are very strange.” Sunstreaker laughed.

Shaking his head a bit, Sunstreaker rubs at his chest, “Oh Blue, you don’t know the half of it. So, what was the last fight here like for you?” Bluestreak’s face lit up, “Well it was back during the last war, primus, you would have thought we were insane back then. Fighting after the fall of the system we were fighting over,” Sunstreaker stares and chuckles slightly, “You really don’t know anything about Earth, do you?” Bluestreak looks at him and shakes his head a bit, “Uh, no, not really. Jazz doesn’t talk about it much and Prowl said to not bother him with it.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker shrugged slightly, “Well, I’ll tell you more about it after your story. So, this last war, you were here,” he prompts lightly, Bluestreak nods and starts talking, smiling brightly. Sunstreaker smiled and just listened, glad to listen to someone who wasn’t giving him orders or was his brother. 

—

The shuttle that evening was not sentient and Hound was still never sure to be relieved or not. It always took Sideswipe the longest to figure out if they were on a shuttle he knew personally or not, Sunstreaker always had the easiest time with it. For the moment, Breakdown was not speaking to Hound which was understandable, typically they were on equal footing but having to pull rank always left others feeling ruffled. Jazz was up towards the front talking with the pilot, but the entire shuttle was full of mechs. Each seat was filled and there was limited walking space since it was filled with the construction materials, plus the heaters. The twins were pretending to be asleep, really they were out of their chairs and talking over comms in English. Just because they had the translator doesn’t mean they wanted to use it all the time. 

Sitting back, Hound was almost asleep himself when the second ring of his comm drew his attention. He paused for a moment before adjusting his setting to answer, “Hello?” There was a brief sigh on the other side of the line, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to answer, most mechs answer as soon as it pings.” Mirage sounded like he was smiling, “You doing alright after last night?” Hound smiles a bit, “Yes, thank you for your concern Mirage.” He thought for a moment that that’s where the conversation would end, “I saw what happened this morning, uh, is that normal for you all?” Sighing, Hound scratches at his jaw and chuckles, “Kind of, pilots back home, we’re not used to working with other pilots.” 

“Why not?” Hound opened his mouth and stopped, tilting his head a bit before biting back a swear, “We’re spread out across the planet to protect as many civilians as we can. The five of us being in one place at once, it’s not typical and certainly not what we were trained for.” Mirage hums, “So, the tension is growing.” “Exactly.” Sighing, Hound rubbed his face, “Only ones who are used to working with each other are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and even then they only did when in the same region during an attack. Most of us had never worked together before this mission.” He swore he could hear a pin drop over that line before Mirage took a breath, “They sent you, on a death mission, with people who you’d never worked with?” Shaking his head a bit, Hound sighs, “No, not quite. For around six months, uh, half a stellar cycle, we were together preparing for this mission. Isolated together, mostly.” Mirage made an indignant noise. 

Chuckling lightly, Hound scratched at his jaw, “Don’t like that either, huh?” “I just don’t understand your people, redesigning and reprogramming you all for this.” Hound hummed, leaning his head back comfortably, “Someone has to do the work that no one else wants to do.” There was another long pause, before Mirage spoke up again, “Prowl says the same thing, Megatron says the same thing.” Grinning, he shrugged lightly, “There are some things that almost transcend culture.” Mirage hummed lightly, then cleared his throat, “So, we will be in Iacon by morning,” “Will we?” Hound’s internal clock was shot, both his internal clock and the one in his suit, Mirage’s smile was even evident through the comm, “Yes, and I understand you’ll want some time to rest and repair Breakdown of course, but I was wondering when we’d be able to have that, uh, talk.” It took him a second to remember what Mirage was talking about, “Oh, the one about where Breakdown is from?” Mirage and his pauses, “Yes,” Nodding a bit, Hound leaned forward and glanced over to Jazz, gesturing towards his head lightly.

It was several longer seconds of silence before the click of someone joining the comm came through, “Yo.” Hound leaned back, “Jazz, how much free time do you think we will have when we get to Iacon?” Jazz popped up in the corner of Hound’s visual feed, he responded with his own internal camera but ensuring both were kept from Mirage’s view, “Uh, I don’t know. Depends on how long Joan is in his meeting,” “Joan?” The confusion in Mirage’s voice almost made Hound double over, even as Jazz’s face turned dark with blush, “Hound! You could warn a mech when having them enter a comm,” Still laughing, Hound sits up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry Jazz, Mirage and I were discussing when’s we would be able to meet up to talk about the Soviet Union, in turn I added you to ask what Prowl’s plan looked like. Mirage, Joan is what we’ve taken to call your boss over private comms. She was a figure not dissimilar to your Prime.” Both men sat in silence, as if waiting for the other to break it. 

Hound cleared his throat a bit, “Regardless, do you think a meeting with the Prime will be possible once we get there or will we have a while?” Jazz sighed and leaned forward, looking at Hound, “After we’ve had time to repair Breakdown, I think we’re going to have some time before we’ll get an audience with the Prime. Why?” He shifted a bit uncomfortably on his own seat, sitting back and away from Jazz’s prying eyes the best he could other than for the camera, “Well, Mirage wanted to learn a bit about the Iron Curtain,” “And other things about you— and Earth. Your planet seems so interesting.” Hound smiled a bit, “It is, or it can be.” Jazz was smirking, leaning back and shaking his head, “It’s almost cute how you all are skating around other mecha. Trying to make friends.” Mirage made a noise, and suddenly Hound wasn’t sure if Jazz was talking to him or Mirage. It took only a second for an answer, “Your species of mechanicals are so different from ours, your way of life, your relationships. None of you have mentioned being conjuxed and yet have split sparks, things that seem so familiar yet there are things that are… missing.” Hound cleared his throat a bit, “I’m sorry, the translator didn’t take to that word. What does being conjuxed mean?” Jazz stayed silent, though his hand was covering his mouth as he held back laughter and Mirage was painfully silent. 

After nearly a minute ticked by, Hound sighed, “Is it something incredibly private or?” Weak laughter filled the line, “No, Primus no, it’s just your translator makes you sound strange for some words when they don’t translate.” It was another second before Mirage sighed, “Conjux is short for Conjux Endura, it’s a committed relationship between two mecha, for the rest of your life.” Hound paused and nodded slowly, “So like being married.” “I suppose, though that is not translating either.” Hound chuckled slightly, “Marriage is a committed relationship between two, uh, mecha for the rest of your life. Unless you get divorced like I did.” Mirage made an ear piercing sound and Jazz choked, nearly shooting out of his seat while leaning forward, “What the hell?” “What?” There was a click for a moment, as Mirage left the comm, “What? What did I say?” Then there was another click as Jazz left for a second. He was left in the quiet for a moment before two clicks notified him that they were back on the line.

Jazz sat there, staring at him and shook his head, “No, no, I need you to say that without the translator on. That can’t be right.” Mirage was making the slightest of choking sounds still, so adjusting his setting Hound sighed, “I’m talking about my divorce Jazz.” Several seconds went by, “Oh, oh! I didn’t think that would translate like that.” He pauses, “Damn, uh,” There was a click and he went silent, then a second click as Mirage went silent as well. Setting his jaw, Hound leaned his head back and picked at his fingers. It wasn’t a topic he even remotely enjoyed talking about, two clicks showed they re-entered the comm line, “It is much more normal on Earth Mirage, it’s not a bad thing and certainly not.. that.” He could hear the mech breath out a sigh of relief, “You can understand my concern Jazz,” Mirage clears his throat, “I apologize Hound, your ‘divorce’ translates as something rather drastic in our language. Not a separation of legally binding relations.” Opening his mouth, Hound tried to say something before shaking his head, “You know what, I don’t want to know. My divorce isn’t anyone’s business but mine.” “Of course, I apologize.” Jazz hums lightly, “I knew some things would never translate but that was just something else. No word for divorce is nuts.” Nodding a bit, Hound folds his arms before sighing, “Yes, very odd.” It was uncomfortable, so Hound disconnects from the line, dimming his visor to ensure he wasn’t disturbed before deactivating his comm. 

No word for divorce and whatever it translated into seemed like murder, setting his jaw, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his, no one needed to know he was divorced. Pausing, he sighed, he hadn’t set up the time to talk to Mirage about Earth properly. Sparing a glance towards where Breakdown was sitting, it would have to wait. His systems were shut down quickly so he was able to throw his arm over his eyes, removing the helmet and visor. Sometimes, the differences felt greater than they probably were. 

———

A/N

I think I am finally recovering from being sick, but we will see. Next part will hopefully be out Monday and I’ll actually get to that schedule that I was talking about before.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU

[aangelinakii]

TAKE CARE, POLAR BEAR.

— see you soon, unicorn.

summary : remus walks you home in the snow, but who's going to walk home remus ??

note : i started rereading the books in november and i'vz literaly been obsessed with them again soooo here i am writing for remuusususus

january comes with dinner parties and pub drinks, as well as an abundance of snow that seems to have missed the christmas memo.

this sunday, lily and james have invited everyone round for a roast, the warmth of cinnamon and mulled wine lingering throughout their new place in godric's hollow, and fairy lights illuminate the granny curtains, which they haven't yet replaced — but they make the house feel lived-in, so you don't mind them at all.

everyone's lounging in the living room, stomachs happily bloated, a distant jack jones vinyl crackling in the background when you remember exactly what day it is.

with a jolt, you spring up from the armchair, causing everybody else to stir with wide eyes. you look at your wristwatch, and a curse tumbles past your lips, which earns a crooked glare from lily even though harry is fast asleep between her and sirius on the couch.

"so sorry, all, i've just realised i actually have work tomorrow," you gasp, out of breath despite only having stood up, "and it's getting late, and—"

your hand stills on the curtain as you absently pull it to the side; your eyes have landed on something outside.

with january, by seven pm, the sky is no lighter than in december — but, in the golden streetlamps, you can see, clearer than anything, that the entirety of godric's hollow is blanketed in shining white snow. and you're going to have to walk in it.

as you exhale, another curse spills out, but lily doesn't glare this time, only sits up straighter to look out the window.

"no worries," you breathe, walking past everybody into the hall to grab your coat from the cloak hanger by the door. "if i leave now, i won't get home in an ice cube."

back in the front room, you hear remus's voice, as well as a shuffle of feet along the carpet. "actually (name)'s right, i have an interview tomorrow, which i should probably be busying myself with, as opposed to doing what we are right now."

"an interview?" hums lily hopefully. "remus, that's great!"

you wander back into the lounge, buttoning up your jacket and slinging your scarf around your neck. "really? what's it for?"

remus, the back of his hair shaggy from where he'd been laying on the rug, meets your eyes mid-step. his mouth opens, silent for the shortest of beats before he responds. "well, we'll see, won't we?" and he looks round at the rest of the room: lily and sirius are sandwiching a snoozing harry on the couch, making sure he doesn't roll off, and james is downing the dregs of his cinnamon tea from the other armchair. "i'll keep you all updated."

"please," lily smiles, standing to her feet to show you both out, sending a glance back at harry as the sofa shifts as her weight's removed.

lily follows remus to the door, where you've toed your shoes back on with much difficulty, and remus reaches over you for his own coat, long, frayed at the sleeves.

he tugs it on with an air of unsual casualty and speaks again, although he's not looking at you. "i can walk you, it's on my way."

you glance up, meeting lily's eye for a moment — she's leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over her chest, biting back a smile so hard it looks painful — and then look at remus. "yeah? you sure?"

it's now that you realise you've never actually been round remus's; if he lived so near yours, you would've held dinners more often.

he looks at you now, smoothing down the collar of his coat, and nods politely. "of course," he smiles, a pale scar by his lip stretching. "what friend would i be if i let you walk in the cold on your own?"

you smile back, digging your hands into your pockets for the chance you may have forgotten gloves in there from another outing, but they're empty.

"well, thank you guys so much for having us," you turn to lily, whose eyes half into crescents in harmony with her lips pulling up. "your house is absolutely gorgeous, and i wouldn't mind a few more dinners round here." your tone's a bit jokey, but everyone knows you're very much serious.

"anyways..." you turn to the door and pull it open, accidentally welcoming in a horrid chill and a flurry of snowflakes.

from the lounge, sirius calls, "see you both, don't freeze!" and your smile widens.

after a few hugs and kisses goodbye, you and remus have been pushed out into the cold; it's not damp or windy, just horrifically cold.

from beside you, remus breathes hot air into his hands and rubs them together. "britain... who would've thought?" he sighs, sending a cloud past his lips into the lamp-lit night. "and in january, no less."

"i know," your teeth chitter in return, your shoulders shrugging up to your ears. "at this rate, there may be no point in me getting up for work in the morning if this all doesn't thaw."

remus hums next to you, possibly a quiet laugh, when you speak again, lifting your head to peer at him.

"anyways, that interview? how are you feeling about it?"

"interview?" remus repeats, though it doesn't sound like he's asking a question, or even responding to you, but he corrects himself, posture straightening for a moment. "yes, interview! yes, well, you know..."

you did know.

suffering from lycanthropy made getting and keeping jobs quite a trick, and it wasn't often remus had an opportunity to do either — so this was big.

with a smile, although frost pricked your cheeks as you did so, you speak again. "and i had no idea you lived near me."

"define near," he chuckles softly, corners of his eyes crinkling in the warm lamplight as he smiles. "i think i'm a good ten-and-a-bit minutes past you."

"still!" you naturally step a bit closer, shoulders bumping — you've always struggled to walk completely straight. "we could hang out more, or next time james and lily do something we could go together."

remus doesn't reply straight away, but when you glance up at him, he's still smiling, though it's softened considerably now.

when he notices you looking, his eyes flit your way, messing yours for a beat. each time you pass a streetlight, his brown eyes pool with honey, and the little pricks of snowflakes that have caught in his lashes illuminate.

"that would be lovely," he hums in response, cheeks pulling up again as his smile widens.

after a few more minutes, though it feels like hours at the speed you're going, you turn onto your street, and you instinctively find your place in the dark, coming to a stop before the bottom step.

"here's me," you smile, looking back at remus, who stands a couple steps away, adorning a crown of snowflakes upon his head. he shares the expression, and you rifle through your pockets for your keys.

as you hop up the steps with your key ready, you call back to him. "you'll be okay in this on your own, won't you? i wouldn't want you to come all the way to walk with me but then not be able to make it back to yours."

the man at the bottom of your steps lets out one of his more real laughs of the evening, soft and silky like the honey in his eyes. "don't worry about me," he returns, sounding so sure. "i'll be right as rain on my own."

your door springs open as you turn the key. although you don't want to lose your place's warmth, you stand in the doorway, looking out to remus, who steps a few paces closer to the base of your stairs.

"take care, then, polar bear," you smile down at him.

"see you soon, unicorn," he smiles back.

this would've been where you wave and awkwardly close the door, but, instead, you laugh and stay glued to the spot. "that's not how you do it, you've got to rhyme it."

"oh, terribly sorry," remus replies, but his smile is cheeky and tone condescending. "i'll spend the rest of my week repenting."

your smile grows, but now you're really beginning to worry about how cold your house is going to be when you finally shut the door, so you wave and disappear into the comfort of your home.

remus waits patiently for you to get inside, for the door to click as you turn the key again on the other side, and for a light to flicker on through one of the windows before he continues home. but even then, he doesn't make haste, for remus doesn't have a job interview tomorrow — as guilty as he feels for fibbing — he just wanted to walk you home.

[thanakite]

I think one of my main issues with Jayce is his lack of support for Caitlyn

Like they grew up together in a lot of ways and she seems to have looked up to him for a long time and they are essentially like brother and sister in A LOT of ways, but also friends

But following the Progress Day attack when her parents (her mom was likely the main one behind this but Jayce says that her "Parents spoke to the Sheriff" so here we are) got Marcus to essentially fire her as an Enforcer he comes to her and offers her a position as House Talis Security, which Caitlyn clearly states is a ceremonial position where she'd live behind a desk, all things that Caitlyn clearly and decidedly does not want and has not ever wanted and is very clear about her and should be clear to someone who has known her as long as Jayce has

If he came to her with this and he was like "No, I know how it looks, but that's just to get your parents off your back, in reality I will give you free reign (more or less, but essentially, I will support you) to pursue your investigation and with my new backing as a Councilor behind you" then I would believe him to be someone supportive to her and her hopes and dreams and someone who actually knows and understands her (like a sibling or a close friend) after knowing each other as long as they have

Because really, for one her injuries from the Progress Day attack COULD have happened to anyone and could have happened to her even if she wasn't an Enforcer (Because let's be real here she's still nosy and still deeply cares so she could have ended up near the explosion anyway), so forcing her to no longer be an Enforcer over it is illogical and just goes to show that her parents would have picked literally anything to get her to stop being an Enforcer

But Jayce is supposed to be her friend/older brother figure, someone who should decidedly not be siding with her parents here (Even with the concern for her health and safety, he SHOULD know that a ceremonial position where she'd live behind a desk would drive he absolutely up the wall and would make her incredibly miserable, plus again it was a BULLSHIT excuse to get her fired and Marcus likely only went with it because she was poking into things he didn't want her poking into)

And realistically this isn't the only time this happens with him and Caitlyn as despite it being HER investigation, he doesn't get a hold of her to come with him and Vi to bust up the Shimmer factories, but he SHOULD HAVE

Like with Vi it makes sense, they just had a very dramatic parting of the ways and it would have been SUPREMELY awkward to then go back and be like "Hey well actually do you want to come and try and shut down Shimmer with me?"

Caitlyn still would have 1000000% done it, but everything about it would have been too awkward for Vi to do so

Jayce doesn't have that problem though and yet he doesn't do anything to bring her along despite it being her case and him KNOWING IT IS HER CASE and everything else having to do with Caitlyn and her investigation and desire to be an Enforcer and make things better in Zaun and ALL of that

Caitlyn does support Jayce and was even his strongest defender when he was arrested after the heist and explosion at his apartment despite being young and having to go against her dad (Who is arguably the parent she gets along better with, which can easily make it harder to go against that parent in arguments because it can make you worry that they won't support you in future arguments with the parent you get along with less), and she continued to do what she could to support him after the trial when her parents went to drop him like a steaming pile of shit (Something that is never addressed, really, like there is no indication he held this against them at all once Hextech got approved and was shown to work and everything, but he honestly SHOULD have and it should have been a factor to him in choosing to support Caitlyn over the desires of her parents)

So... yeah.

I do like Jayce at times, but things like this supremely frustrate me, because he SHOULD have been someone in Caitlyn's corner who supported her in what SHE wanted to do with her life, but he just... Didn't

[sitp-recs]

Hey, I love your recs! They're actually what originally got me into drarry ages ago.

I was wondering, do you have any eighth year or soon after the war recs where Draco is out and happy and Harry is just dead and depressed? I've really wanted to see happy and finally free Draco (like when the Prophet LOVES Draco after the war) and Harry is just done with it all?

I've been dying to read some these, but I can't find any that hit the spot. Thanks for all you do!

Thank you, that makes me so happy! 🥹 I can’t think of any fics where the Prophet loves Draco, but these might work for you. They’re not all set in the immediate post-war tbh, but Harry is inspired by a free, confident Draco. I also have a list for out & proud Draco and for sad/closeted Harry. Enjoy!

Starstruck by phrynne (E, 4.5k)

Yeah, Malfoy has pink hair. Or sort of. Half of his hair is shaved short and dyed an aggressive pink. The other half is still white-blond, a strand falling over his right eye, only the left side of his face visible at all times. He turns it slightly and spots me beyond the moving bodies. He doesn’t stop dancing, a smile plays on his lips. This time I don’t look away like I used to when all this began.

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by calrissian18 (T, 21k)

Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

A Year in Training by Omi_Ohmy (M, 25k)

Harry is finally living his dream and training as an Auror, but nothing seems to be going right: he’s just so angry all the time. And Draco Malfoy’s presence on the programme really isn’t helping with that, either.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Modern Love by tackytiger (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by Writcraft (E, 63k)

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts.

[tj-crochets]

Do you have a particular organization you work with for providing disaster relief?

At the moment, no. My dad and several of my neighbors have been helping out with various local groups, but so far my donations have been things like clothes I had on hand that happened to be the size my neighbor's coworker, who lost their house in a flood, needed, or stuff like that The baby blankets are going to a different neighbor's kid's school, who is arranging donations for...I think it's a particular city but I am not sure how to reveal what city without giving away where I live more precisely than I really want to? I live close enough to the flooding that I don't really need to work with an organization, because everyone in my neighborhood is at max two degrees of separation from someone who lost everything in the floods. I can give things, including baby blankets, directly to the families affected. I mean, that said, I am giving them to my neighbors to distribute, but that's because I can't drive and a lot of the places donations are going you can't drive to at the moment anyway. One of my neighbors is organizing people with ATVs to go take food, water, fuel, and other necessities up to some of the communities that currently have no road access I got very, very lucky with where I live and the infrastructure that happened to be in place*. There was severe flooding less than ten minutes away from where I live in more than one direction, but where I live made it and enough of the roads are intact to be able to get out. Some routes are more circuitous than they used to be, but it's still possible

*by happened to be in place I mean in my particular neighborhood and the work my dad has had done in our yard, not the rest, I know a lot of people over a lot of years made the infrastructure of the larger area

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[selamat-linting]

resignation letter is the most potent painkiller. i love you resignation letter i love you one month notice <3

[swordmaid]

still thinking about the haikaveh 13 going on 30 inspired au .. like imagine kaveh going home drunk and upset after a bad meeting with a client. he’s presented his 8th draft of the project and there’s still something wrong with it. kaveh doesn’t want to compromise his own vision, and the client is adamant with his own, so they ended up just arguing instead of working on a compromise. then he goes to the tavern to cheer himself up but after a few drinks the bartender refused to serve him anymore since he still hasn’t paid his last tab and the bartender had been putting his current one under alhaitham’s. so kaveh goes home, drunk and upset at his client and also at the thought that he’ll owe alhaitham even more.

and when kaveh goes home alhaitham is lounging on a sofa and the books kaveh asked for him to clean isn’t put away yet. that little detail ticked him off - here’s alhaitham who doesn’t have any work to do at home and yet he doesn’t even bother to do the one thing kaveh asks him for. meanwhile kaveh has to go home late from a meeting that didn’t earn him anything and he’s even more in debt after alhaitham finds out about his tab. so, kaveh’s already drunk and upset and NOW annoyed he starts to argue with alhaitham. first it’s the fact that alhaitham hasn’t cleared away his books yet. then, alhaitham points out that he’s over-exerting himself for a client that’s not even paying him (he doesn’t need to be reminded of that!) then, kaveh argues that instead of trying to point out his failings why can’t he just console his clearly upset and stressed roommate like everyone else and if he was more compassionate about other people, maybe he’ll get along with other people better!! then cue the petty argument exploding into something bitter. kaveh is upset, drunk, and rambling, going on and on about how he doesn’t want to keep sacrificing his artistic integrity, and why can’t people just appreciate his art, and it would’ve been better if he never met alhaitham to begin with so he won’t be indebted to him and maybe his life wouldn’t turn out so badly. the argument only ends after alhaitham goes into his room clearly upset – the kind of upset kaveh was all too familiar with all those years ago — and now kaveh feels shitty and hurt and drunk and he wants to vomit so he passes out on the couch.

then, he wakes up in a room clearly different from their house.

the architectural style of the room is a marriage between the tumbling vines and glass windows of sumeru and the rigid structures and flow of fontaine’s. the couch he’s sleeping on isn’t the green divan alhaitham is fond of ; it’s a blue chaise with velour fabric that’s half as soft.

kaveh panics, looks around the room, then finds achievements displayed on the wall: articles and papers praising his name, pictures with the liyue qixing infront of a renovated and expanded golden house, one next to the fontaine archon besides an opulent theatre. there are articles of his latest creations, interviews with the man himself headlining the steambird, written papers and thesis about architecture published in the akademiya. kaveh learns that he’s not the light of kreshrarewar anymore ; he’s the most famous and accomplished architect in all of teyvat.

but alhaitham is not here anymore.

[twilit-tragedy]

god fucking damn my life, bro. I find a couple of ants in my room and immediately freak out. I start feeling shit crawling on me and turn on a flashlight to go look for some hidden source, already hyperventilating. And then I remember I woke up late and didn't take my morning meds. Girl, we have a balcony and my mom keeps plants there. Calm the fuck down. You like having the window open. It's FINE. It's just ants.

Last weekend I skipped my morning meds two days in a row cuz I woke up late and I feared sertraline insomnia - which, yes, in hindsight was a bad idea - and on Sunday I had a full meltdown. Granted, also period-related, but god fucking damn it. I tore my whole room apart. I couldn't vacuum under my bed easily because of my desk's placement so I decided I was going to move furniture around and reorganize my room. On a Sunday afternoon, in the summer and with tendonitis. All cuz I saw some ants and couldn't verify with my own two eyes every corner of the room. And because I couldn't physically move the wardrobe and bookcase, I guess I took out my anxiety with the remaining furniture. And god fucking damn it, here I am again a week later.

I keep finding ants (3) running on my desk all of a sudden while I'm SITTING THERE and have no idea ("no idea") where they're coming from (engage the phone flashlight routine). I moved this bitch AWAY from the window and they're fucking HUNTING me or smth (it's 35ºC out, girl). I hate my life. And I hate that any suggestion of bugs makes me start feeling shit on my skin that isn't there. Dumb fucking brain. Anyway I need sleep and to take my sertraline asap or else.

[fionnaskyborn]

current mood:

[gunpowder-gemini]

I'm scared

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[softbabybelle]

corruption 001. 𓍯𓂃 rֶָ֢ cameron

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 Summary : rafe finds sarah's best friend sitting in her room after she sneaks out to see her boyfriend, topper, and offers to keep her busy while teaching her something new.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.5k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : weed, smoking, drvgs, suggestive.

part 2. part 3.

by the time sarah had re-entered her own bedroom, you were laying on your back across her bed, twisting your hair above your face, absentmindedly playing with the strands.

"i have a favour to ask." upon hearing your best friend's voice, you turned so you were laying on your stomach.

you liked having sleepover's with sarah but sometimes, she wasn't all that reliable. "m'kay." though you already had an idea what following words would pass her lips.

"i just got off the phone with topper and he wants me to go meet him." she settled herself against her drawers. "but my dad'll kill me if i stay out past curfew. think you could cover for me?"

you batted your lids at the girl, frowning for various reasons. you'd brought all your stuff so you and sarah could hang out, you were getting a little tired of her using you as an excuse to see her boyfriend and you were downright petrified of ward cameron. there was something awfully frightening about your friends' parents.

but you didn't like to be troublesome. so a small "okay." passed your lips with a thin smile.

it took sarah less than twenty minutes to get ready and before you knew it, you were waving goodbye as she snuck out the window.

she left the tv on so you could watch one of your shows but you were much more inclined to reading the book in your bag. at this point, you'd grown accustomed to sarah leaving you during the middle of your sleepover's, you had to come prepared.

the reason she invited you over and snuck out was because she knew ward wouldn't dare go near her room when she had a friend over. none of her family did.

well, none aside from one.

"sarah!" you heard a familiar voice from behind the door followed by a bang against it that rafe cameron would later excuse as a 'knock'. "listen, i know you took my fuckin' charger, so give it ba―oh."

rafe was sarah's older brother, you'd seen him around plenty of times and he'd surely seen you. at this point, you practically lived in the house. many times you'd sat across from him at the dinner table or sat on the beach chairs with sarah while he was in the pool. though you didn't often speak to him.

perhaps that was your fault more than it was his, though.

"you're here." he stated, glancing around the room for the white charger he was missing.

rafe often initiated conversation with you but it was only in your shy nature to nod after he said something and use less than two words to communicate before scurrying down the hall after sarah.

this time, she wasn't here to be your human shield.

"uhm, yeah." you sort of just squirmed, hoping he didn't ask about why you were in here alone.

but you didn't often get what you hoped for. "where's sarah?" snatching up the charger. upon his question, you blinked at him, a stretch of panic flashed across your face. you didn't even need to say anything, your look gave it all away. "snuck out with topper, huh?"

your top lip snuck your bottom teeth in. "please don't tell." you weren't used to being so confined with rafe. sure, you'd been in a hallway with him before but come to think of it, you weren't sure you'd ever been in a small room like sarah's, alone, with the door shut.

"wasn't going to." he counters. his eyes pass over the room, raking down to you. you were sitting on the bed with a little book in your hands, pink bookmark sticking out from the page you left it on. "you don't need to be sittin' pretty in here all alone, though." he approached the door before turning to face you. "you comin'?"

it was as if he'd expected you to follow. you hastily stood, pink blush across your cheeks. "where are we going?"

he shrugged. "my room." as if it'd been obvious.

a nervous pit swirled in your stomach. you hadn't spent enough alone time with rafe to be invited into his bedroom. sarah was the one out of the two of you who talked to many guys. you kind of just stood idly by, a nervous look on your face as you bit your bottom lip and angled your head to look at the ground. you supposed rafe wasn't so bad, though.

after all, you practically grew up with the boy.

but that didn't make it any easier.

"so, uh, how's school?" he sniffed, inviting you into the room before shutting the door closed.

you'd been around sarah and her friends long enough to know that the smell swirling the room was weed. something you'd never so much as touched. the room also had a smell of some expensive cologne, the same one you often detected from rafe.

"it's okay." you offered, standing idly near his dresser, hands messing with the hem of your shirt. "what about you?"

a soft sort of smirk fell across his face. "i'm not in school anymore." he reminded you before taking a seat on the bed, taking something out from the beside table's drawer.

"i knew that, sorry." you felt your face flush. you hated this, always making yourself look silly when you spoke to rafe. it was why you avoided him in the first place. you wanted nothing more than to run out of the room to where you came from. but sarah was gone, meaning you had nobody to use as an excuse or a getaway.

you'd merely have to endure.

he didn't say anything, only offering a humorous huff from his lips.

"you mind?" your eyes trailed down to what was in his hands, the source of the smell you'd detected earlier. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

"oh, uhm." your eyes snapped up to meet his, head feeling floaty at the name. "i don't mind if you smoke. it's you're room."

again, he offered no response but continued to take out his pieces. he was currently in search of a lighter. "what are you standin' all the way over there for? sit down. i don't bite." but there was a quirk to his lips when he said it that made you think he did bite.

"sorry." you mumbled before shuffling to the bed to sit on the furthest edge you could.

you didn't miss the way rafe rolled his eyes. he looked back at you, studying your features. "split one with me?" he was testing the waters. he knew you enough to gauge assumptions about you. asking him? you didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have sex. you were the type of girl who stayed in your friends bedroom reading a book while they snuck out to meet their boyfriend.

he wanted to see if you'd give in.

your eyes were watching his hands, the way he rolled paper between his fingers. "uhm, 've never smoked."

ding ding ding.

he cocked his head. "want to try?" he could see immediate panic flash across your features. in a way, it was exactly what he wanted. he wanted to soothe you into this, not for you to instantly kneel at his every command. he knew you weren't easy. "c'mon, baby, 's just me. promise i won't let anything happen to you."

"i don't know." you shook your head slightly.

you were no stranger to the names he used on you. he often spoke them in a soft yet playful voice, especially around sarah. you just thought he liked seeing his sister get angry, tossing a pillow his way and telling him to stop treating you like one of his 'notches on his belt' but if he was only keen on making sarah angry, then why was he calling you such things while you were alone, sarah nowhere in sight?

"how long have you known me?" since you were very, very young. "one can't hurt. you trust me?" you slowly nodded, eyes still wavering to his hands. "so what'do you say?"

you knew you shouldn't. if your parents ever found out, they'd kill you with their bare hands and rafe would be next in their death note journal.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you that had your stomach folding in two.

besides, you never did like upsetting people.

if you didn't say yes, rafe would think that you didn't like him. he would be upset that you'd be so mean to refuse such a kind offer.

so nonetheless, a small squeak of an "okay." left your lips.

"atta girl. c'mere." he gestured down and you blinked at him confusedly. was he asking you to sit in his lap? you swallowed thickly. "c'mere." he repeated, this time between a soft chuckle. he reached out for you, helping you to sit flush against his lap.

instantly, you swore you had never been so red in your life.

your eyes were all wide and embarrassed, cheeks flaming red hot while you tucked your bottom lip under your top one again. a habit you supposed you'd die with. to say you were shocked to feel his hand against your face was an understatement. his thumb pulled at your lip from between your teeth, securing it away from harm. "don't do that." he mumbled. "you know how to take a pull?"

awkward and embarrassed were two words you swore were forgetting their meaning. this was above and beyond that. "you just... suck, right?" you squirmed in his lap at your own words.

"inhale, sweetheart." he moved the rolled blunt up to your lips. "open." you complied and he stuck it between the two, lifting the lighter to set the top to a low burn. "don't try to keep it in, 'kay?"

you nodded, inhaling the blunt and finding a strange sensation fill your mouth.

you'd never smoked a cigarette before, much less a blunt.

it was a weird feeling but you did what he said, you didn't try to keep it in. you moved the blunt from your lips with your fingers and didn't feel the need to couch heavily. you just blew the smokey air back out.

"good girl." the soft pads of his fingers trailed softly against your bare thighs below your sleep shorts. you felt your stomach do flips at the praise. "did so well. you sure you haven't done this before?"

you nodded with a slight giggle. "'m sure."

you watched as he lifted the blunt to his lips, taking a drag, then another. he didn't seem as phased as he did. "mm, don' know if i believe you on that one, princess."

"i haven't!" your hips gently reached up against his own. "swear." before simmering back down.

he lifted the blunt to your lips. this time, he didn't need to tell you to part your mouth, you just did it. "cross your heart 'n hope to die?"

he was staring at you so intently that you swore you'd never seen anyone's eyes so vividly, never been more interested in the squiggles of blue in someone's iris or the way his pupils slowly began expanding.

all you could offer was a slow nod as he watched you take another inhale of the blunt, eyes suddenly now steady on your lips, watching you stain the end of the paper pink with lipgloss.

a smirk fell on his lips as he leaned back onto the headboard. one minute, you were too shy to leave sarah's room, now you were sitting on his lap, smoking a blunt with him.

rafe merely had a way with women.

"so what, you feel like 'm corrupting you yet?" his steady smirk and sly hand trailing up your thigh.

a giggle passed your lips as you shook your head. "no."

he hummed. "plenty of time for that." you weren't too sure what he'd meant, though you hadn't actually asked him either.

it didn't take long for you to get high. rafe realised this within less than a few minutes. your pupils had turned wide, eyes gone glassy and suddenly you couldn't stop licking your already wet lips. you were staring at him, a little too much, not that he was complaining. he'd spent too long waiting for you to shyly meet his eye. with the weed in your system, you couldn't seem to look away.

"can i ask you something?" his voice was low, hardly a whisper as he spoke now, as if afraid he'd awake something and the room would turn to dust, the moment would fade from his memory and this moment would dissappear.

"uh-huh." you were busy looking at him, downright gawking. your eyes were shamelessly staring right at his lips.

he wasn't as buzzed as you. but to be honest, he'd been doing this a long time before you. "have you ever been kissed?"

it was his turn for his eyes to advert to your lips. all glossy and wet. for the thousandth time, your tongue peaked out, wetting them again before biting your bottom lip.

he couldn't get you to stop biting it, no matter how hard he tried.

he'd merely have to train you, when the time came.

"mm-mm." you shook your head at him. finally, your eyes broke from his lips and looked up at his eyes. he could see now, how truly buzzed you were. your eyes were all red and glassy, it was almost as if he could feel you floating. you tilted your head at him. "are you gonna kiss me?"

his hands ran up and down against your skin. "do you want me to?" a hesitant nod followed his question. "say please." pulling the blunt up to his lips for another drag. it was almost out now.

it was a mindless tease but he felt you squirm in his lap again. "please, rafe." voice but a whiney murmur.

he blew the smoke out from his lips and watched it fall into your own parted mouth.

your eyes fluttered shut and he didn't give you a chance to think, his lips replacing the smoke. his were hungry, your's were soft, inviting. and he took the invite as soon as it'd been handed to him. his hand ran up your back, shoving your body as close to his own as he could. he wanted the heat to envelope him, wanted your skin against his own. wanted so badly to rip off every piece of clothing that tainted you. wanted you to be his for the taking.

but the way you suddenly pulled back, those doey, bloodshot eyes and fearful voice murmuring the words, "you're not gonna tell sarah, are you?" told rafe exactly what he already knew.

he need to be patient with you. take his time unravelling you until there was nothing left.

he shook his head, fingers soft against your face, running across your cheek.

"don't worry, sweetheart, your dirty secret's safe with me."

[envy-of-the-apple]

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him. 

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body. 

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you. 

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive. 

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right? 

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought. 

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you. 

It was silent for a while, and then you said: 

"Do you like sweets?" 

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs? 

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window. 

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back. 

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette. 

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough."  You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily. 

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you. 

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain. 

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself. 

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot." 

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture." 

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes." 

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke. 

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that." 

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before. 

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands." 

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine." 

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny. 

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was. 

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans." 

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you." 

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered." 

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes. 

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type." 

"I'm everyone's type." He argues. 

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder. 

"I like my men a little taller." 

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize. 

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back. 

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening. 

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet. 

"Hi." He smiles. 

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?" 

He grins wider, and you relax. 

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again. 

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now." 

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly." 

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift. 

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption." 

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice. 

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once." 

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye. 

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?" 

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder. 

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips. 

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?" 

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use." 

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks. 

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black. 

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something. 

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked. 

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress. 

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos. 

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that. 

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.." 

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely. 

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her." 

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now." 

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back." 

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens. 

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?"