#she just wants books and now i have to go through a 15 step process with verifications etc to make it happen for her

[antigonenikk]

one of my besties off to jail again for a month .... free my girl!!!

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The holiday pretense- Chapter 1

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air.

Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend.

But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request.

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying, anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. And I know I am literally that meme rn, the: summer is over-skips straight to Christmas. But do you have any idea just how slow I write? Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 1-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: again, I didn't write in 8-ish years, so this is very very scary. Add in a dash of 'English is not my first language' and you get whatever this is. enjoy. Merry Christmas.

Ah winter, the most wonderful time of the year.

The season when the air is crisp, and the city gets blanketed in thick, white snowfall. When the satisfying sound of crunching snow accompanies every step and every word transforms into nothing more than a puff of steam dancing through the chilly air.

When Mariah Carey’s voice echoes in literally every store for an obnoxious 24/7, as if she has some kind of personal vendetta against silence…

When the heating bill increases by 37%, and it takes an extra 15 minutes for the heater to kick in and for the hot water to grace the showerhead. Ergo, Namjoon now has to wake up half an hour early if he wants to take a shower and not freeze half to death during the day, because the landlord was adamant that there was nothing to be done about the situation.

But it wasn’t all bad.

Sure, Namjoon was never one to possess the so-called Christmas spirit. In fact, he was known to be a bit of a grinch among his friends.

Jin, in particular, enjoyed telling anyone who would listen about their first Christmas at college, when Namjoon adamantly refused to help him decorate the tree after begrudgingly lugging it to their shared apartment.

And most years Namjoon’s lack of enthusiasm for the season was palpable. While his friends reveled in the cheerful atmosphere, he somehow managed to remain detached and aloof, his grinch-like demeanor becoming a defining characteristic, much to the amusement of his companions.

However, there were still aspects of the holiday that Namjoon couldn’t help but secretly enjoy. The food, for instance, was undeniably good. Although the movies were mediocre and the music overplayed, he still found himself humming along to Winter Wonderland whenever it played. And the energetic buzz that seized his friends was no doubt contagious;

This year, before he could even process it, he was dubbed designated fairy-light fixer, the judge of the ugly sweater contest (solely because he had the audacity to show up wearing a black hoodie) and somehow promised Jungkook to help him pick up gifts for his mom, his cousin, and girlfriend.

And now, with the holidays looming just around the corner, and the entire city buzzing with chatter about family feasts, romantic rendezvous, and the art of gift-giving, Namjoon couldn't help but feel a little pang of longing. It had been a solid two years since he last set foot in his hometown, and the melancholic urge to return home seemed like the only logical response to it all.

Or maybe he just needed a vacation…

But there was just one thing that kept Namjoon, a logical being, from making that phone call home.

He knew that part of the reason behind his mother’s question was for organizational purposes, yet he couldn’t help but notice the mischievous twinkle in her voice each time she sweetly asked:

“And are you coming alone?”

Few things managed to irk him as much that specific question in that specific context. And even with countless nights analyzing the emotions it stirred within him, Namjoon found himself very stupidly replying with:

“Uhm, no actually-” despite being painfully single, and fully aware of it.

Following that, the hope of regaining any sensible thought was gone as a chorus of ecstatic comments erupted form his mother’s end of the phone. With a hurried, “Can’t wait to see you, yeah, love you too,” he was left in the suffocating silence of his bedroom, with a new predicament he needed to solve.

Now, let’s not forget, Namjoon is no ordinary man. He possesses a brain that could rival Einstein’s, and he knows all too well that he could simply call back and clarify that his plus one is as real as Santa Claus.

But Namjoon doesn’t half-ass anything. He full-asses it.

That and showing up alone would undoubtedly result in his mom’s attempts to play matchmaker. And if he were to show up alone, after lying about it, well, he might as well prepare for an arranged marriage.

Namjoon sighed as he looked at his phone. He couldn’t understand why his mother had this new found obsession with his relationship status. Especially after she witnessed just how bad his last one ended. Now sure, he may have taken the whole ‘healing-era’ to a bit of an extreme, seeing as he had no relationship, no situationship and no inclination to entertain any romantic thoughts whatsoever. But this was getting ridiculous. Lying to his own mother?

Perhaps he could ask his assistant to pretend to be his girlfriend for the week? No, that wouldn’t work. She mentioned she was hosting the Christmas dinner this year. And it would involve more explanations to HR than it’s worth…

And he couldn’t overlook the fact that her fiancé would most certainly not be amused by that idea.

Just as he was about give up and plunge into another rabbit hole of despair, the solution to his problem came accompanied by the familiar sound of glass smashing in the kitchen.

You.

You would be perfect.

Most people already assumed you two were dating, seeing how seamlessly you fit yourself into his life after moving in.

And last he checked you couldn’t make it home because of some pesky law-jargon issues that required your presence at the office. And changing your flight to a few days later cost you an arm and a leg, while changing it to January was completely free.

And last he checked; you were just as chronically single as he was. (He knew because your last date was so disastrous that he had to abandon his gaming night and rescue you from the restaurant).  

Another crash in the kitchen summoned him back into action. Swiftly snatching his hoodie from the designated clothes chair and making his way to you, detouring only to retrieve the medical kit from the bathroom.

He was quick to spot you, still clad in your work attire, crouched besides the counter, diligently sweeping the stray glass shards of what used to be an ugly mug. His eyes involuntarily wondering towards your ass, once again marveling at how flawlessly you wore that office skirt before snapping himself out of it.

“And I believe that evens out the score, seeing as I only broke a plate, and you killed two mugs this season” he declares, ensuring you weren’t bleeding before abandoning the first aid kit on the counter to fetch the trusty vacuum cleaner.

It was standard procedure by now.

“You also managed to break the microwave, so the title remains yours,” you grumble as you rose to your feet, a smile unconsciously tugging at your lips when you caught sight of his charming dimpled face. “Hey there.”

“Hello,” he replied, giving you a swift once-over in case he missed any hidden hemorrhages “what happened?”

“It just jumped out of the cupboard when I opened it,” you gestured towards the dust pan, as if to prove the cup suddenly acquired acrobatic skills before its untimely demise, causing him to break into a grin “I’ll get you a new one.”

“No worries, it was a gift form an ex, and it was hideous anyway.”

As he vacuumed the area, you disposed of the glass, making sure it wouldn’t slice through the trash bag like last time.

Once the kitchen was safe again, you returned to your previous task, grabbing a new cup and casually turning your back to him.

" Do you want to try an unreasonably expensive hot chocolate with me?" you playfully suggested, catching his eye as he noticed the purple tin on the counter, adorned with a big red bow, alongside a very generic Christmas card.

"Secret Santa?" he inquired back, picking up the card, already aware of the answer to your question.

Unconsciously, he began mentally listing reasons why you would make a good fake girlfriend. Topping the list was your uncanny ability to understand him without lengthy explanations. And it was all quite digestible, wasn't it? Two long-time friends and roommates, thrown together by chance, suddenly discovering hidden feelings for each other?

All his friends seemed to have unanimously agreed that the two of you would make a splendid pair, back when you met, when his roommate, Jin, started dating your roommate, Myeong.

 On their inaugural date, Myeong, in a fit of paranoia, asked you to tag along, in case her potential lover turned out to be a serial killer. And Jin, ever the considerate soul, felt compelled to invite Namjoon, not only to spare you the agony of being the third wheel, but also in the hope of pulling Namjoon out of his dating slump. Not that you would ever notice, as you were knee-deep in exam session, sleep deprived and buried in a mountain of law books.

Poor Namjoon somehow ended up carrying the weight of being third and fourth wheel simultaneously.

But you eventually made up for it, once your exams were over and had a proper 18 hours of sleep.

In no time you wiggled your way into his heart, transforming those awkward double dates into enjoyable hangouts. You’d spend countless hours discussing everything from books to the latest plot twists in popular dramas, to sharing dreams, fears and hopes.

As Myeong and Jin’s relationship blossomed, they gradually faded into the background of your outings, until they were eventually excluded all together. And neither of you seemed to mind, as you found it easier to focus on your conversations without their constant chatter.

That and they couldn’t be quiet in movie theatres like decent human beings.

It was during one of these outings that Namjoon realized just how alluring he found you. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes made his heart race. Your sharp mind and wit were a match made in heaven for him. And your ability to render him speechless was both infuriating and exhilarating.

But Namjoon also knew that you were deeply committed to your studies, and he didn't want to do anything to distract you from your goals. So, he held back, admiring you from a distance and hoping that someday things might be different.

And as time passed, and he graduated, he came to terms with the fact that you two would never be more than casual friends.

Little did he know that the universe had its own wicked sense of humor. When fate decided to play its sly hand and leave you virtually homeless, because your respective roommates decided to take the next step in their relationship and move in together.

It was only logical, then, for the two of you to shack up as well. After all, you were friends, both neat freaks, and most of all, desperately in need of a roommate.

“The roommate switch”, as Jimin so eloquently put it.

And thus began the most wonderful living arrangement Namjoon ever experienced. Not that he would never tell Jin that.

Suddenly, his bathroom cabinet resembled a Bath and Body works store, and your pink pots and pans had taken over his kitchen. But he wouldn’t mind, seeing that the cooking interdiction was extended, once Jin started recounting all the times Namjoon almost turned their previous apartment into a bonfire during your housewarming bash.

However, you never scolded him for his butterfingers because, truth be told, you had your own healthy dose of clumsiness, (the cup chilling in the trash an indisputable witness to it).

It was quite refreshing to find someone who shared his knack for dropping things.

And he made up for all the free meals by taking care of the dishes. He even went above and beyond by meticulously following the odd care instructions for your fancy pots.

And the rest of your household chores fell into perfect harmony.

 He willingly handled all the ironing, including your own, simply because you couldn’t be bothered. In return, you would dutifully clean the lint tray in the dryer, even when it was his turn to do the laundry, because he found it absolutely disgusting, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to gross him out.

It suddenly dawned on him why all his friends were convinced that you two were together. He was smitten with you, after all.

But again, time has worked its magic! His infatuation had been long departed, so he could proceed with his plan and not let it affect your friendship in any way, shape or form!

“You know, I never quite understood the purpose of Secret Santa,” you confessed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I mean, sure, it makes sense in a small group where you can actually get to know the person and buy them something nice. But in a corporate setting, where you’re thrown together with people from different departments, it makes absolutely no sense!” you spoke with passion, even stirring the milk a little harder, causing an impish smile to dance across his face.

“Because you end up with situations like this, where creepy Greg from the watercooler suddenly feels the need to win my graces and splurge on stupidly expensive hot chocolate.”

Namjoon was familiar with your HR endeavors involving Greg, especially after he hit on one of your colleagues.

“Do you want to know how much this monstrosity costs?” you asked, trying to contain your amusement at the sheer absurdity of it all. Pouring the cocoa into the milk and placing the mugs in front of him, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Surprise me,” Namjoon took a sip, which he regretted because he choked once you answered,

“Sixty dollars!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous” he coughed, once he regained control of his lungs.

The hot chocolate was nice, but nowhere close to justifying the hefty price tag. For all he knew, it could have been dollar store cocoa. But your contagious laugh made it all worthwhile, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe Greg deserved to lose his Christmas bonus on overpriced cocoa that you both would mock.

“Tastes like cardboard” you concluded after a mouthful, “maybe it was meant for that hideous mug your ex gave you,” you teased, earning a puzzled look. “This has horrible taste,” you tack on, noticing his raised eyebrow “just like your exes.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that,” he replied, feigning offense.

“Well, they did break up with you, so clearly their taste is questionable,” You ruffled his hair as you walked past him, your cocoa abandoned on the table.

This wasn’t uncommon in your friendship. Afterall, you were his biggest supporter, as he was yours. But now, with the odd favor he was about to ask you; he couldn’t help but ponder your words for longer than usual. Until he heard the door to your room close and he realized he was left alone in the kitchen.

“Any updates on that flight of yours?” he asked, shooting a glance towards your door. Perhaps the universe would take pity on him and spare him the embarrassment he was dreading.

“Still in January!” you hollered back, your voice muffled by the commotion in your room.

“Ah, cool, cool…” he muttered under his breath, more to psych himself up and gather the courage needed to go over and make a complete fool of himself.  

“Are you still planning on heading home?” your voice was barely audible amidst the movement, so he walked over and propped himself against your door to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” He replied absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck.

Not unless he can find a girlfriend for the week.  “Hey,” he continued, his voice devoid of any moisture, “can I ask you a favor?”

The door swung open, almost causing him to stumble, to reveal you, wearing pajama bottoms and a black tank top, clutching one of his sweaters.

“Depends.” You answered flatly. “Mind if I borrow this?” you gestured towards the sweater, awaiting his nod of approval before slipping it on and sauntering past him to claim your usual spot on the couch. With your feet cozily tucked under the cushion, you scrolled through your phone, probably looking up another horrible movie you’d force him to watch. Oblivious to the fact that you ticked off another item on his mental checklist: looking damn good in his clothes.

“Okay” he took a deep breath and settled down beside you, his posture impeccable and his gaze fixed on the blank tv screen. You glanced over intrigued by his sudden shift in behavior.

“This is going to be weird, and you can tell me to fuck off any moment this makes you uncomfortable. And I promise I’ll never bring it up again, and we can pretend this never happened,” he stumbled over his words, a stark contrast to his usually calmed and composed demeanor.

Your mind raced, conjuring up the worst-case scenarios as you slowly set aside your phone, captivated by every word leaving his mouth.   

Was he about to kick you out?

That only seemed to aggravate whatever Namjoon was on, as he continued to mumble, insisting that you didn’t have to agree to it if you didn’t want to. Which didn’t make any sense, because if he was going to kick you out, he should at least have the balls to tell you straight forward.

You gently collected his hands, causing him to halt abruptly. His wide eyes finally locked with yours as you softly uttered “Just tell me.” You peered up at him, bracing yourself for the worst, and completely unprepared for what was to follow.

“Will you please do me a solid and pretend to be my girlfriend for a week?” he stammered, unable to maintain eye contact, his voice fading into a whisper towards the end.

“What?”

“I might have told my mom I’m in a relationship, and now I desperately need a stand-in girlfriend for the next few days” he confessed sheepishly, quickly adding, “But seriously, if you’re uncomfortable with this, just say the word and we can erase this whole conversation from existence.”

“Oh my goodness, Namjoon,” you breathed out in relief, a laugh escaping your lips as you rested your head on his lap, leaving him even more perplexed. “I thought you were kicking me out.”

“What?” he chuckled, watching you raise a few seconds later, rubbing your eyes before fixing your gaze on him, contemplating his request.

“How can you be so brilliant and so dumb at the same time? Just call your mom back…”

“No, you don’t get it. I can’t do that. If I do, she’ll set me up with the neighbor’s daughter again” Namjoon explained, clearly not in the right mindset to entertain that idea again.

“You want me to lie to your mother?” you asked incredulously.

“Please don’t phrase it like that.” he covered his face, deflating completely besides you.

“This is essentially what you are asking me to do... I don’t know how that makes me feel. Your mom, by the way, is an absolute sweetheart…” you trailed off, observing him intently as he brushed away the hair in his eyes.

You didn’t get to know her too well, but the last time she visited she made sure to stock up your whole fridge with homecooked meals. And to top it off, she even baked cookies especially for you once Namjoon mentioned he had a new roommate.

The discussion, however, took a bit of an unexpected turn when she realized the roommate was you. A girl and not another frat guy. But she quickly developed a fondness for you. Or at least, that’s what you believed when she gave you the tightest hug goodbye.

“I know. It’s a stupid idea.” He muttered, rubbing his face a bit harder than necessary. Then he locked eyes with you and continued. “I am well aware of how dumb this is. And that is exactly why I need you there with me.” His statement left you dumbfounded, completely unable to find any words. “I just want to go home and relish in the fact that I am there without constantly worrying about being single.” he took a shaky breath before continuing,

 “I can’t comprehend why my mom is so fixated on this matter.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I just need someone to navigate this absurdity with me for the holidays, and then we never mention it again.” 

His little speech left you stunned, and before you knew it, you were actually considering his proposal.

 Your Christmas plan was already ruined, and agreeing would mean that you would not be confined to your couch, enduring cheesy Hallmark movies and crying alone on Christmas eve.

Moreover, you were convinced that you had moved on from the little crush you had on him back when you met. Refusing still to admit that you’ve always had a soft spot for the gentle giant that slowly became a staple in your life, and that spending the holidays with him would be the best scenario that could ever happen.

But could you make it through this without getting your heart trampled and your friendship going up in smoke? As these thoughts started to swirl in your mind, your eyes began to wander aimlessly. From his eyes to his chiseled cheekbones and strong jawline, down to his neck and collarbone, and finally to his impressively muscular chest that seemed to only have grown since he started attending the gym religiously with Jungkook. And not to mention those arms that give the most incredible bear hugs. It was strange to allow yourself to notice his physicality in such detail, as if you had been willfully blind to his newfound buffness until now.

“Forget it, I’m sorry I asked,” he said, sensing your hesitation and preparing to end his suffering. But you stopped him in his tracks.

“If we are going to do this, we need a plan.” His eyes light up, color returning to his cheeks, before he squeezed you in a tight embrace “and just so you know, you owe me,” you laughed once he released you.

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want.”

“You take out the trash for a month,” he was too quick to nod “and I want you to take me to that bakery you and Jin always rave about.”

“Ajumeoni’s bakery?” he smiled at your request. That was the bakery Namjoon visited with his sister every Friday as a child, and every other day with Jin, on their way to school, because the milk bread was to die for. “Of course. It’s already part of the commute, so consider it done.”

“Good. We have a deal then,” you extended your hand as if sealing a business agreement, instead of setting yourselves up for a disaster. He reciprocated with a firm shake, and you swiftly retrieved your notepad from the coffee table. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, let’s establish a few key details about us. We need to become well-acquainted with each other’s personal preferences, so it doesn’t come across like we are just… pretending” he looked over at you as you scribbled.

“I mean, it’s a digestible story already. Two oblivious roommates, suddenly realizing they have feelings for one another after living together for years.” You mused, only to be met with his response.

“And once this is all over, we can simply tell everyone that we figured out we were better off as friends than lovers,” he pondered aloud.

“Right,” you replied, looking up from your notebook “How long have we been dating?”

“Anywhere from three to six months” he promptly answered and you jot it down before firing off your next question.

“And why haven’t we told any of our friends and family?”

“To avoid the inevitable ‘I knew it!’ and because we like the trill of keeping a secret.”

“Fair enough,” you chuckled “So, how did we get together?”

“You finally realized how charming I am and just couldn’t contain yourself?” he flashed a cheeky smile and you playfully deflect by giving his chest a gentle push.

“How about your birthday party?” you offered “We were both buzzed enough to share a kiss and then you confessed?”

“Why do I confess?” he whined, peering over at your notebook page where you already wrote down your version of events.

“Because I’m shy about that kind of stuff” you mumble, burying your face in the cozy confines of his sweater, avoiding any potential eye contact.

 “That’s adorable,”

“Shut up.” You chuckle “Alright, is there anything I should know about you?”

“I’m not a big fan of PDA, especially when we’re out and about, so don’t expect me to be all over you.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But since we’re going home and pretending to be a couple, what level of affection are you comfortable with?”

“Well, I’m comfortable with you,” you cleared your throat, that bit of information being more truthful than intended “we can hold hands, and do normal couple stuff.”

“How do you feel about kissing?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” you responded nonchalantly, eyes fixating on the notepad in your hands.

A mischievous grin played on his lips as he teased, “Good, because I happen to be quite fond of leaving hickeys.” That broke you out of your little spiral, rolling your eyes at his poor attempt.

As if you weren’t already aware of this tidbit from his past conquests during your college days, before you two became roommates.

“You do know this is all pretend, right?” you retorted, refusing to take the bait.

“Oh, but baby, we’ve got to make it feel real,” he insisted, his tone dripping with charm. However, it did nothing to sway your logical approach to it.

“Right, ‘baby’” -you said it as if it was a legal term, “any preferences for pet names?”

Your serious charade did little to detour him. “Just promise me that our interactions won’t be like Jin and Myeong’s.”  He smiles, eyes twinkling with mischief.  “And surprise me, I’ll be putty in your hands.”

“So, you are not set on honorifics. I can call you Oppa if you want,” little did you know, your innocent suggestion struck a hidden chord within him. A new kink that needed further assessment later on, preferably after this week was over.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, clearing his throat and reclining against the couch. “Anything I should know about you?”

You pondered his question for a few seconds, allowing a sly smile to play your lips. “I don’t like feet.”

“No duh!” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before regaining his composure. With a meticulous air, he went over all the details once more. “Ah, you need a new background on your phone.”

 Swiftly, he snatched your phone form the coffee table, catching you off guard, and planted a quick kiss on your cheek before snapping a selfie. “Perfect,” he declared, a proud smile spreading across his face as he set the picture as your home screen and background, leaving you to gather your frenzied thoughts.

“But wait, you also need a new photo,” You retorted, only to find him already one step ahead, pulling out his phone from his pajama bottoms and scrolling through his camera roll.

“Done.” He announced, turning his phone towards you to reveal the horrendous picture he had chosen as his own home screen. 

 A candid shot he took during your last year at college, on one of those late-night noodles runs to the local shop next to the library. You were draped in an oversized hoodie, greedily slurping a mouthful of noodles. With eyes blissfully shut, you savored every bite, as it was your first meal of that day, completely oblivious to his hidden photography skills.

It wasn’t until you accidentally stumbled upon your caller ID that you saw it and naturally, grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him, demanding an immediate change. But he stood his ground, claiming it was his favorite photo of you.

Claim proven yet again as now it was Namjoon’s home screen.

“I hate that photo.”

“I know.” He gave a smile, before safely tucking his phone back in his pocket, and rose to his feet, stretching leisurely. “I think we are good to go, girlfriend,” he said it in such a way that sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “I’ll go book our train tickets, and you better start packing soon,” he playfully pointed at you, before gracefully disappearing into his room to retrieve his laptop.

“Oh, wait, I need to get a present for your mom!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before the train even arrived in the station, the sky was threatening to unleash upon you. The air filled with delicate snowflakes, determined to bury you, Namjoon, and your luggage.  But it was yesterday’s conversation that still lingered in the atmosphere, weighing heavy on both your minds.

The darkness of the night had given you both time to process what was about to unfold. Your only anchor on reality being Namjoon’s surprisingly warm hand clasping your freezing one, and tucking it away in his warm coat pocket.

And the fact that he looked like he just strolled out of the latest winter Vogue edition for men didn’t help. While you attempted to make a lasting impression, donning a cream knitted dress, black stockings and boots, topped off with a cream coat, that was far too flimsy for the weather, Namjoon effortlessly sported a navy-blue hoodie, snug jeans and a stylish black trench coat, and even a matching beanie that made his hair look absolutely flawless.

But beyond his impeccable fashion sense, he also proved to be quite the gentleman. Not that you ever doubted it, but now he seemed determined to showcase his chivalry. He wouldn’t even let you lock the door to your own apartment. It was a miracle he allowed you to carry the bottle of Chardonnay you insisted on getting his family, despite his protests that it wasn't necessary. You slightly regretted it now, seeing as your other hand was enduring the elements, instead of being intertwined with his.

“You have snow in your hair,” you pointed out, stating the obvious with the brilliance of a water-is-wet revelation.

“As do you.” he looked up from his phone, where he was engrossed in checking the train’s schedule for any potential delays. “And your lips are blue.” with a swift motion, he untangled his scarf and gently draped it around your freezing form. Something he had done many a time before, anytime he saw you slightly cold, but never before had you considered this gesture to be more than your friend looking out for you.

But today, things were different. Today you were pretending to be his girlfriend.

The sudden surge of warmth that enveloped you left you wondering if it was due to all your blood rushing to your cheeks or his scarf possessing some sort of magical heating abilities.

“It says here that the snow storm shouldn’t intervene with the scheduling, so the train will be here in a few minutes.” He looked up again, a cheerful grin appearing across his features as he caught sight of your pink face. “Aw you’re blushing again,”

“Shut up.” you retorted with the quick-wittedness of a third-grader.

“If I would have known it was this easy to make you flush, I would have made my fictional moves much sooner.” His voice did that thing again, where it went slightly deeper and, only the look in his eyes ticking you off to his teasing.

Your only response was to nervously nibble on your lip. Again, the realization that you are about to deceive not only his mother, but his entire family nestle in your chest, squeezing at your heart like a snake wrapped around it.

“Namjoon, I’m not sure about this.” you confessed, pulling the scarf closer to your face. It was a bit late to be getting cold feet, but this was your last opportunity to speak your mind before embarking on this little ordeal. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”

“Come on now, aren’t you an intern at a law firm?” he raised a playful eyebrow, attempting to ease the tension, but you only glared at him.

“I can’t lie.” You stated firmly “I’m the absolute worse at it. That is why I always find alternative ways of convey the truth. That’s what lawyers do. We don’t resort to lies.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he quickly apologized, before falling silent for a few seconds to ponder a solution. "Okay, listen. You don’t have to say anything."

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

"I can take care of all the relationship talk, and I won’t say anything unless prompted.” he replied, trying to inject a touch of wit into his response. “Afterall, you are just my friend that just happens to be a girl.” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you “And I want you to spend Christmas with me and my family instead of being alone at home.” Namjoon gave you a sincere smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the grip on your heart slightly loosen.

“Okay,” you gave a small nod “Thank you Joon.”

The nickname slipped by unnoticed, but you noticed the way Namjoon reacted, rekindling your burning cheeks.

“So, no Oppa?”

When your train arrived, Namjoon swiftly took charge, effortlessly carrying all the bags to your seats, settling in comfortably for the four-hour journey ahead.

He had come prepared, armed with at least three books to keep himself entertained, while you had grand plans of getting a head start on your work, perhaps even sneaking in a personal lecture and a quick power nap. However, much to your surprise, the allure of a nap quickly surpassed all other ambitions, your head found a cozy resting place on Namjoon’s shoulder, and you drifted off into a blissful slumber for the remainder of the journey. A sleepless night imagining what it would be like pretending to date your roommate could do that to you.

Only stirring awake when you were less than a few minutes away, because Namjoon was constantly shifting in his seat, half of his body numb from your weight on him.

“Oh hey,” he whispered, swiftly stretching his legs as soon as you moved off him. “I just spoke to Minhi, she said she’d come pick us up from the train station,”

“Oh, that’s nice.” you yawned, rubbing away any remnants of sleep from your eyes “You could have told me to move, you know.”

“Yes, but you looked so peaceful. It felt almost wrong to disturb you.” He grinned, fully aware that he also indulged in a little nap, using your head as a pillow just half an hour ago.

“Shut up,” you whispered, poking his thigh and retrieving your makeup bag to quickly fix your face before the train pulled up in the station.

The frigid air pierced through your very bones, sending an instant shiver cascading down your spine as you stepped into the snow filled air. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, trying to ward off the cold as you looked around for Minhi, seeing as Namjoon was on luggage duty again.

However, before you could spot her, Minhi’s voice sliced through the chilly air,

“Kim Namjoon, you have got to be kidding me.”

Namjoon’s little sister, all bundled up in a thick winter coat had fixed you two with a piercing stare, her hands on her hips in a classic display of sibling disapproval. 

Namjoon’s wonky smile did nothing to deter her piercing gaze, or calm any of your fraying nerves. “It’s good to see you too?”

You feel your heart drop as Minhi's gaze shifts from her brother to you, her expression a mix of confusion and suspicion. Your worst fears are confirmed - she's figured you out and you haven’t even been off the train for 5 minutes. Now Namjoon will be married off to some rich middle-aged woman and you'll never be able to look him in the eye again.

 You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you look away, silently praying that the snow beneath your boots doesn’t melt into a puddle while she stares.

But then, unexpectedly, Minhi starts to laugh. At first, it's a quiet chuckle, but soon it grows into a full-blown laugh. She laughs so hard that she has to hold her stomach, and at the end she wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

“You two are perfect for each other,” she says still chuckling “Fine, I’ll play along. How did you two end up together?”

“Got drunk one night.” Namjoon casually replied, rubbing the back of his neck before wrapping his arm around you, “Turns out all I had to do was say something, because she was all over me the next second.” 

Minhi raised her eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right,” She hugged Namjoon tightly, and then turned to you, surprising you with a warm embrace. She muttered something about Namjoon never confessing his feelings in your coat, but you were too busy drowning in a whirlwind of confusion and relief to register it.

“We'll talk more later about how inappropriate this is." She added cheerfully, beckoning you to follow her towards her little yellow jeep, bright against the snowy backdrop.

You look back at Namjoon just in time to catch him winking in your direction and giving you a thumbs-up that sent your heart whirling in your chest.

 The car ride was over faster than you would have wanted. Minhi navigated the snow-laden road while she and Namjoon chatted away about mundane topics—work, rent, the best coffee in town. You sank deeper into the backseat, overwhelmed and lost in your thoughts. Because What the hell was that and If this was how you were kicking things off you might as well turn around now. Was it just fear of ruining the friendship or was an old crush budding again? The way he ‘claimed’ you in front of Minhi clearly ignited something in your chest that was not appropriate for friends or roommates or roommate-friends pretending to be dating.

As if sensing your turmoil from the front, Namjoon caught your eyes, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile before the car came to a halt. He gallantly opened the door for you, his hand grasping yours and squeezing it tightly.  

 “I got you, baby,” he says, teasingly, but the poorly-timed joke earns him an immediate glare and an elbow to the ribs.  

“Oh, come on. They are lovely people.” Minhi interrupts before Namjoon can retaliate, “You should’ve seen the way mom was dancing around the kitchen once she heard Namjoon was bringing someone over.”

You just blink at her, your breath misting in the air as you unconsciously step closer to Namjoon, giving him a small nod of support. His presence radiates warmth, his fingers tightening around yours as you walked towards the small house that looms in front of you. Minhi ambles ahead, dropping her bag near the entrance, while you could practically feel Namjoon vibrating with excitement.

“Someone’s in trouble” She whispers dramatically, letting you both into the warmth of the household, where laughter and the mouthwatering scent of home-cooked food intertwine. You follow her into the kitchen and you see the older couple husting about, half-focused on a pot bubbling over the stove and half on each other.

“Mom! Dad! Look who I’ve brought!” she announces, and the couple turned, smiles blooming as they spotted you and Namjoon.

For a fleeting moment, you felt exposed. Like an exhibit at a museum, thrust into the spotlight. Your breath hitched as Namjoon gently nudged you forward, a gesture both comforting and terrifying, but steeling yourself, you bravely stepped ahead, bowing as a sign of respect.

“I knew it!” The affectionate glow sweeping across Mrs. Kim face relaxed your nerves considerably, “I’m so glad you could make it!” her eyes sparkled with genuine delight, and you suddenly realized that Namjoon inherited his dimples from her. But the thought was quickly squeezed out of you as she enveloped you in that bone-crushing hug.

Namjoon’s father, a tall elderly man with kind eyes, patted him on the back. His approval apparent, before he turned his attention to you, “Welcome to our home,” he said warmly.

“I’m honored to be here.” You managed to respond, your voice quacking slightly but laced with sincerity. You heard Minhi groaning in the background but did your best to ignore her exaggerations and focus only on Namjoon’s parents, as you exchanged the required pleasantries.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Kim said, bustling around the kitchen with effortless grace. The contrast between her elegant movements and Namjoon’s clumsy demeanour in the kitchen made you smile inwardly “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Yes, we didn’t get a chance to eat today,” Namjoon added quickly, casually leaning against the counter and stealing a taste from the simmering pot.

“I’ll call you over once it’s done. Go show our guest to your room until then,” Mrs. Kim commanded, expertly shooing him away from the stove and passing plates to Minhi.

“My room?” Namjoon echoed, his eyes widening as if the concept had floored him.

“Yes, dear. I know we are old-fashioned, but we are not under any illusions that you two don’t already share a room.” Mrs. Kim replied, stirring the bubbling pot without sparing him a glance.

Minhi shot you a look that was equal parts amusement and something you couldn’t quite place—sympathy, perhaps? Or pity?

“Yes- No. I just thought that it would be more appropriate to let her have the guest room,” Namjoon articulated, his voice half-hearted in its conviction.

Mrs. Kim merely cooed, waved away his protests with a flick of the wrist. “Minhi and Jackson are staying in the guest room. You can have your room.”

“Come on, Namjoon. You always make everything so complicated,” Minhi chimed in, her voice laced with mischief. “Just accept it. You guys will have an entire night to sort things out, right?”

“Right.” he grumbled, shooting her a glare that softened as he turned his gaze back to you “Let’s get you settled in,” he gestured for you to follow him.

The moment you step into Namjoon's room, a charged silence enveloped you- like the kind that proceeds a brewing storm. The room was exactly as you imagined, a blend of cooler minimalist décor and hints of his personal touch, a few pieces of art and pictures hung up on the wall, all whispering tales of youth, friendship and moments you yearned to know more about.

But all those sweet memories fade into the background as the reality settled in: there was only one bed.

“So, let me get this straight,” you began, the awkwardness hanging heavily in the air “You thought about everything, including phone wallpapers, but forgot you only have one bed in your room?”

“No, of course not.” He lied, that endearing grin spreading across his face. “I just thought it would be polite to let you have the bed… since you’re my guest.” He seemed genuinely proud of the excuse, but that pride melted when you teased,

“Before or after you plan for the guest room fell through?”

“After.” He admitted at last, glancing away, as if the walls held all the explanations he could not muster.

“Don’t tell me you planned on sleeping on the floor too,” for a brief moment the ridiculous image of him curled up on the hardwood floor, blankets draped haphazardly around him pops into your mind, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“No.” He smiles, “I knew you’d take pity on my lower back,” his dimples deepened and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Very strategic Mr. Kim,” you laugh, walking further into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The playful banter creating a familiar atmosphere, dissolving any lingering tension. A part of you almost couldn't believe you were in Namjoon’s personal space, taking your sweet time admiring the various little parts of him decorating the room, while another part was acutely aware of his gaze on you, observing you as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

He stepped closer, his expression sincere, drawing you in gently as he took your hands in his. “Are you sure?” The tentative nature of his voice hinted at a deeper question—he was about to add an ‘I was only joking’—but you quickly shushed him.

“Yes, of course.”

There were a few past occurrences where the two of you ended up falling asleep together on the couch, limbs tangled under the fuzzy throw blanket, with a movie playing in the background. Without fail, one of you would wake up in the morning to find the other wrapped around them, as the night was chilly and body heat was a rare luxury. Most of the time it was Namjoon that dozed off first, his head lolling in an awkward position until you gently nudged him into a more comfortable posture, knowing he’d whine about neck and/or shoulder pain come morning time if you didn’t. But his lug of a body was always warm, so you didn’t mind snuggling closer to him when it mattered.

This was more of the same. Just in a bed.

You swallow drily, eyes flickering away for a quick second, “I told you, I’m comfortable with you.”

“Come on, lovebirds!” Minhi’s voice rang through the door, breaking the spell. “Dinner’s ready!”

You shared a hurried glance, perspectives shifting as the familiar nervousness rushed back to you.

“Ready?” he asked, his smile spreading across his face, deepening the dimples in his cheeks as he tugged you up to your feet. You nodded, suddenly buoyed by a sense of belonging.

To your surprise, dinner goes by without a hitch. You may have gone a little overboard on the kimchi, but it wasn’t anything you wouldn’t recover from. However, the warmth of Namjoon’s hand resting softly on your thigh might etch itself into your memory for all time.

Halfway through the meal, Jackson showed up, and you got to observe with amusement as Minhi transformed in his presence, her demeanor shifting from the laid-back hostess to a giddy schoolgirl. The way she playfully nudged Jackson, her eyes sparkling each time she teased him, be it about his late arrival or some inside joke, was a refreshing sight. And you couldn’t help but snicker each time Mrs. Kim would chastise them, before dotting lovingly on anything you and Namjoon did together.

As the lively conversation flowed around you, you leaned into Namjoon’s warmth. It felt easy, and so right to nestle beside him, to let your fingers brush against his with familiarity, each touch igniting tiny sparks. You stole a glance at him, watching as he engaged wholeheartedly in the conversation, his contagious laughter filling the room.

After dinner, you offered to help Mrs. Kim clear up the table, even if it was to get a second to clear your thoughts, but to your surprise, Mr. Kim placed a soft hand on your shoulder, smiling, as he gently guided you back to your seat.

“You’ve done enough, dear,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring “We appreciate your help, but tonight is for you and Namjoon to enjoy.” He gave you a kind nod, and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Yeah, there will be dishes tomorrow too,” Minhi interrupted, getting a heartfelt laughter from her father before he left the room, to join his wife in the kitchen.

You shared a sheepish glance with Namjoon, who watched the exchange with an amused smile. His eyes twinkling in the soft light of the dining room, and you felt your heart pick-up the pace in your chest again. You really needed to get away, perhaps splash some cold water on your face. But just as you felt the urge to excuse yourself, you overheard Jackson's whispered confusion.

“Wait, so they’re not actually dating?” His voice was muted, and laced with confusion as he looked between you and Namjoon, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Kyung Min!” Namjoon called Minhi by her full name, which made her owlishly blink up at him.

“What? He asked how long you two have been dating for,” she defended.

“And you couldn’t just say three months, like a normal person?” Namjoon shot back, half laughing, half exasperated and watched as her brows knitted.

“No! He deserves to know.” She persisted, glaring at her brother, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck, trying desperately to remain inconspicuous under Jackson’s incredulous stare.

“So how exactly does this work?” Jackson asked, stopping the siblings from their bickering “Is it like friends with benefits or-?” just when you thought it couldn’t get any more awkward, the sip of water you took ended up going down the wrong way, making you choke and sputter.

“No! it’s nothing like that.”  You stammered, trying to form a coherent thought, but all you could manage was a mangled mess of words.

“No babe, they don’t even kiss,” Minhi added, placing her hand over his as if she were breaking some bad news.

But Namjoon reacted with the prove-your-sibling-wrong part of the brain, making you stare at him in disbelief.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we do.”  

And your pulse picked up again when you saw him leaning in, the implication clear in your mind. You steeled yourself, closing your eyes. But to your astonishment, he didn’t press his lips against yours as you had envisioned. Instead, they grazed the curve of your cheek, followed by a loud, exaggerated kiss.

“I’m confused.” Jackson mumbled, looking over at Minhi as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not the only one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why didn’t he just kiss you?

The thought still lingered stubbornly at the edge of consciousness, even as the icy water from the shower jolted you into the present. You fumbled with the knobs, trying to figure out the right temperature, but your mind was elsewhere.

That scene kept on replaying on a constant loop in your head, each time leaving you just as stumped.

What stopped him?

You talked about this- he brought it up! And you agreed, so what was the hold-up? Was he really so uninterested that the mere thought of kissing you sent him into retreat mode?

Frustration bubbled up alongside the steam, and you invertedly cringed at the image of his nervous smile that still haunted you, his eyes darting away. Scrubbing harder at your skin, you wish the shame and embarrassment would simply wash away with the suds.

And the absurdity of getting worked over your friend not kissing you was not lost on you, but at least if he had gone for it, you might have been able to push that nagging question aside ~What would it be like to kiss Namjoon?  

His lips looked so soft, like they were meant for more than just talking…

You violently shook that thought away, and with a resigned sigh, you turned the water back to cold in an attempt to wash away your sins. Friends don’t kiss!

And he clearly wasn’t interested, so the sooner you silence these thoughts, the sooner you could go back to being normal. Just four more days of pretending to be his girlfriend. You could manage that. And after, you promised yourself you’d lock yourself in your room and avoid human interaction for rest of your miserable life.

As the water continued its relentless pour, you felt your fingertips start to wrinkle, a reminder that perhaps it was time to step out of this session of self-pity. With one last shudder, you turned the water off, determined to face the world- if only for a little while longer.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft glow of a lamp illuminated the room. Namjoon was already tucked into bed, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he quietly looked over the pages of a book. Only, in reality he hadn’t been able to absorb a single word in the past fifteen minutes, his gaze lost in a world of his own.

Silently, you made your way to your side, wrapping yourself in the blanket and turning your back to him. A slight shiver coursed through you as you felt the warmth envelop you, the little tremor alerting Namjoon to your presence.

“Why are you so cold?” he asked softly, shifting slightly closer to you.

Your heart thudded at the caring tone, and for a moment, all the questions crowd your mind again.

Instead of answering, you huffed in frustration and turned to face him.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” the words blurted out before you could stop them, surprising you both with their boldness, but your face flushed when you met his gaze.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he froze, the book forgotten on his lap. “I-I don’t know.” He stuttered, his hand running though his tousled hair, the soft strands falling back in place but not hiding the flush creeping up his neck. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense, eyes averted again in a way that tightened your stomach.

“It would’ve convinced Minhi sooner,” your added, your words hanging heavy in the air. Namjoon chuckled awkwardly, running that same hand down his face.

“You want me to kiss you?”

You hesitated, the corners of your mind fanatically searching for a safe answer

“I’m just saying it would’ve made things easier,” you deflected, avoiding his question much like he had done moments before.

He studied you for a moment, gears visibly turning in his mind before his lips curved into a small, daring smile. “Because I can kiss you if you want.”

Your breath caught in your throat, surprised by the sudden shift in tension.

“Now?” you breathed.

“Why not?” he shrugged “We’re both clearly anxious about it, so why not just get it over with?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, lost for words, staring up at him. All the courage from before evaporating into thin air. You quickly searched his features, seeking the playful glint, the laughter behind his eyes, but instead, his eyes just flickered from yours to your lips.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you finally found the words, and his eyes snapped back to your own.

“I think it would make things easier going forward,” he replied, his voice low and earnest.

A heavy silence settled between you, stretching like an elastic ready to snap at any moment, as snowflakes continued to drift outside, dressing the world in white.

You took a deep breath, “Fine.” Ultimately you mumbled, sitting up against the headboard and turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”, The way he phrased it made your stomach flop, as if he were validating a choice that seemed both reckless and somehow still challenged you.

“Yes, now stop talking and just-” The words were lost as the space between you disappeared. But now you knew; his lips were soft, warm and tentative against yours. It felt wonderful, and sent tingles shooting through your veins while your heart tried erratically to catch up. He hesitated for a heartbeat- less than a fraction of a second- before he leaned further in, deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. And you soften against him, all the tension melting away. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly as if anchoring yourself amidst the storm of emotions that released once you tasted his mint toothpaste.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for breath, the world resumed its muted noised- the quiet hum of the heater, the faint sound of voices downstairs, Namjoon’s breath against your lips. You could hardly meet his eyes, until you heard the first thing that left his lips.

“I just kissed you.”

Your eyebrow arched, blinking at him as if waiting for the punchline that never came.

“I know. I- was there too.” You replied, a little smile creeping on your face despite the rapid thump of your heart. Namjoon laughed softly; his cheeks still tinged with a shade of pink. “You’re a good kisser.” You added after a few beats of silence, before chewing on your lip, and unintentionally drawing his attention back to them.

“You too,” He gave a curt nod, remembering he has a book on his lap and fumbling to bookmark and put it away.

Another moment of silence followed once he settled back, and your eyes desperately scanned the walls for something, anything to say.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” you settled on the worst option, slightly cringing.

“No!” he answered louder than he anticipated, slightly shocking you which in return startled him. “I mean-” he let out an exasperated breath, “Friends kiss all the time.”

He didn’t believe it. And neither did you. But you still nodded in agreement.

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (15)*

Happy release day Sunday everyone! comment to be added to the tag list as always!

!!! This chapter contains smut !!! Remember that chapters marked with * will be NSFW

enjoy <3

-----------

Mattheo looks you up and down before kissing you, holding the side of your neck.

After he pulls away, you speak up, “what?” 

“You’re just so pretty.” Mattheo smiles, teeth showing.

“Whatever” you roll your eyes, Mattheo’s hand is still by your ear.

You yawn, clearly tired, “oh wow, I wore you out didn’t I?” He smirks.

Mattheo wipes his hand through your hair, messing it up, “stop it!” You swipe his hand away as you laugh.

“Guys open up!” You hear Pansy say as she knocks on the door.

“Oh shit” you mutter as you walk over and open it for her. 

She steps inside and looks between the two of you before looking to your bed, the sheets messed up.

“Sorry we were just-” you start.

Pansy holds up her hand, “I don’t even want to know…although I think I do already.” 

She walks over to her chest, grabbing a towel before walking to her dresser and sifting through them to look for pajamas.

“I am really tired though…” you trail off, holding Mattheo’s hand.

“Alright, fine. Goodnight my love.” He says gently before pecking you on the lips and leaving.

After the door is shut, Pansy chimes in, “I don’t know what you’ve done with that boy, but you have him wrapped around your little finger.”

“I do not!” You try to defend yourself.

“Seriously? He’s whipped. He’d do anything for you, even I can tell that” she shrugs before walking into the bathroom, “whatever you’re doing, it’s working” she adds before closing the door behind her.

Shortly after that, you fall asleep while Pansy gets ready for bed. You really are tired, it has been a long few days.

The next morning you wake up and go through classes as normal, walking down to class with Draco.

You only have Divination with Mattheo today, your very last class. You had never been this way before but you were excited for this class and so excited to see Matty.

You practically sprint to get to the divination classroom, sitting at your table, watching for Mattheo to walk in.

People start filing in, sitting at their respective seats when you finally see Mattheo walking in.

You watch him as he looks over to you and smirks lightly. Subtle but noticeable enough for you. 

He sits down in his seat, “hi Matty.” You coo quietly.

“Hi.” He holds his smirk, his dimples showing just a little bit.

Professor Trelawney addresses the class, “ok children, we’re going to do a standard tea leaf reading today. We must see what the world is trying to tell us.” 

The class breaks off, talking amongst themselves but before you can get a word out, Mattheo raises his hand.

“Professor Trelawney, I had a raspberry scone for breakfast and I don’t feel too well,” Mattheo says.

“Oh dearie, must you go to the infirmary?” Trelawney says coming up to your table.

“I need to. You know I think she had the same thing as me…” Mattheo points to you.

You hadn’t eaten breakfast at all but you could tell by Mattheo’s expression that he didn’t want you to reveal that, “oh yeah my stomach is a little uneasy…”

“Oh dreadful, you two must go now, I’ll see you in class next time.” She motions you two to get up and leave. 

You and Mattheo both pick up your books and leave the classroom together. You start walking the halls, Mattheo making sure nobody is following you before he grabs your hand and starts picking up his pace.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you laugh. 

Mattheo pulls you into a potions closet before shutting the door behind you.

He throws your books to the ground next to you guys and pulls you in kissing you roughly.

He holds the sides of your face, scrunching your hair up in the process. 

After a moment, you back away, “what is that for?”

“I missed you.” He says hungrily, kissing you again.

“I missed you too.” You say back between kisses. 

You start pulling his blazer off as he unbuttons your shirt.

You pull away as you both undress, you leave your skirt on but take off your shirt and bra off.

Mattheo drops his blazer, pants, and boxers at the same time. He pulls a condom out of his pants pocket in the meantime.

“In the back pocket? Seriously?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“What? I like to be prepared.” He shrugs. He puts it on as you impatiently wait.

When you're both done undressing, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You look down as Mattheo lines up his cock with you, he inserts himself in you, making you grab the shelf on the wall behind you.

“Oh shit.” You mutter as he starts a pace, moving in and out of you.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” Mattheo breathes out. You wrap your arms around Mattheo’s shoulders, your fingers lingering at the back of his neck.

Mattheo picks up his pace, causing you to let out a moan. You start to feel your high coming, it didn’t take much for him to get you there.

Your nails start digging into the back of his neck, sure to leave marks.

“I’m almost there.” You manage to say in between breaths, Mattheo slows his pace, sending you over the edge.

One of your hands finds its way into Mattheo’s hair, the other settling on his chest.

“Fuck.” He mutters as both of you ride your highs together. After a moment, he pulls out of you, letting you jump back down onto the ground.

You both take deep breaths as you put your clothes back on. You finish dressing before him so you take the time to watch him, buckling his belt.

When he turns around, his mouth is slightly agape but he can’t say a word before you crash your lips into his.

 When you back away, he says, “I feel better already.” 

“Okay I know I didn’t eat breakfast and I doubt you did either.” You giggle.

“Trelawney doesn’t need to know that.” He smirks.

You hold his cheeks in your hands, “you’re crazy.” 

“Maybe so but I just got to fuck my girlfriend so it was worth it.” He shrugs.

A smile creeps on your face, “you just called me your girlfriend.”

“Well I mean we’ve slept together more than once now…” He smiles as he toys with you before pulling you up, kissing you again. “And you already know how I feel for you”

You place your hand on his chest, “yeah I wouldn’t mind hearing it again”

He rolls his eyes before responding, “I love you so fucking much”

You peck him on the lips one more time, not being able to contain yourself.

After he pulls away, you pick your books up and Mattheo opens the door. You both walk out into the hall, looking both ways to make sure there’s not a professor.

As you walk down the hall, you try to fix your hair. The halls were empty since the last class was still going but there was no way you or Mattheo were going back.

You both walk back to the Slytherin house and sit on the couch by the fire. He puts his arm over your shoulder and you lean into him, feeling peaceful.

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel @swamp-box @iamdnb

[jalenay]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Publishing Update May 4 2024

So my work work is starting to relax - it'll be 'normal' working hours after May 15, but i'm manifesting some early additional free time (by ignoring some of the things i still have left to do) and i thought i'd give an update on my current NWWD plan to fill you guys in (if anyone wants to know) and to motivate myself to, you know, do it.

let me know what you think and if you have any questions! or if there's anything else you want to know!

So the overall plan is as follows:

First Rough Edit - this is basically just changing the POV from 2nd POV to 3rd POV. This is very tedious and currently what I'm doing right now. I'm also making a list as I go for high level updates/changes i want to make. Just thinking about the story as a whole and what tweaks i want to make now that the whole thing is finally done (primarily moving exposition around, if there's anything extra i can remove, timing of when certain things are discussed, and so on).

My Main Edit - this will be more time consuming but probably more fun as i do my main revise and edit of the story as a whole. i'll likely print the entire story out, make edits on hard copy, and then type up all the edits. I will also probably be sending the updated chapters to my main beta, for her opinion. (this would be the person i first texted about Dale in Dec 2021, she deserves first look lol)

Editor - After I'm happy with what I've done, i'll send the entire thing over to my editors, the main ones who worked on DSM. This will likely take a good amount of time (DSM took one month) but in many ways involves less effort from me lol. Just nerves.

Cover, Self-publishing Details - while my editors have the manuscript, I'll be narrowing down what I want the cover to look like and hiring a cover artist. (i've got a short list of artists right now, but i'll probably continue to refine that). I'm bad a visualizing covers and so this will be hard for me, although i have some basic ideas. i'll need to gather reference photos too and then work with the artist. I also want to publish more widely than just Amazon and will hopefully get DSM out to other places as well as a test run before NWWD. Look into more marketing? This is the most miscellaneous of the steps.

Process Edits - actually go through all the edits and notes given to me by my editor. This takes a lot of time (and is mentally taxing - no one likes to read pages of people telling you what you need to fix about what you wrote even if its overall extremely helpful and necessary)

Finalizing - I'll send the edited version to my first beta and another ARC reader/friend. I'll work on the formatting for the book. Coordinating where it will be published and when.

Publishing!

This is a loose list of steps that I mostly defined right now, but are similar to what i did with DSM. As i said, I'm in step one, currently just finished Chapter 25 of 36 of that rough edit.

I'll try to provide some updates on the process at it moves along, if people are interested in hearing about that. I'll most likely keep those updates on this blog, along with any other publishing specific commentary. if any one has any questions or thoughts on the whole thing, please feel free to send them to this blog or comment on this post.

I'm very excited to really dig into publishing NWWD and looking forward to sharing it with you!

Thanks to everyone for all their support - I wouldn't even be considering this (i probably wouldn't have even had a finished draft) with you!

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Descent into Darkness

At Mark's house, the atmosphere was somber. The usually lively and welcoming space now felt cold and uninviting. Mark sat on the edge of his couch, his eyes fixed on the picture book that held memories of his friend.

Many photos made his day much brighter during their good old times. Although Bubbles has known them for a month or two, she brightens their days, getting their minds off the Alternates and the doubt of the Celestial Artisan, which has been slowly fading away for the past 15 years.

But even so, his mind was elsewhere, replaying the chaotic events of the evening and the tension with Clean Bubbles at her house. From how she pushed them away, how she acted when they discovered that she fought an Alternate, and how she started to panic at him and Cesar, mentioning that they’ll help her regardless of her situation and then the fact that she seemed to dislike the thought out of… fear, anger, and desperation. 

Was it when Cesar mentioned that if Bubbles was possibly a Celestial Artisan, he hated the thought of his friend putting herself in danger for 15 years straight to protect humanity? Or was it the accusation that Clean Bubbles could be an Alternate and didn’t want to kill like the flock?

𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤✧˖*°࿐

“We’re not,”

She cut him off. “I… We can’t be.” She looked away from them, her back facing the two. “I don’t deserve to be your friend… never in the first place.” She narrowed her blue eyes to the ground.

Mark and Cesar stood stunned, the harshness of her words slicing through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of her sudden withdrawal and the pain it brought with it.

Cesar was the first to recover, his voice soft but insistent, tinged with hurt. "Bubbles, why would you say that? After all we've been through? You're more than just a friend to us. You're part of our lives now."

The girl kept her back turned, her body tense, and every fiber of her being screaming in protest against her words. But she believed it was necessary to keep them safe—this distance. The risk of them getting hurt because of her battles was too high.

Mark stepped forward, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to bridge the gap her words had created. "We don't care about the dangers, Bubbles. Whatever this is, whatever you're hiding, it's not just your burden to carry. Let us help you."

But she shook her head slowly, resolute yet heartbroken. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice cracking. "This isn't just about what I'm hiding. It's about keeping you out of harm's way. The more you know, the more danger you're in. I can't... I won't let that happen."

Cesar, his frustration growing, stepped closer. "So what? Will you just push us away? After everything, we just... stop being friends?" His voice rose, a note of anger mingling with his disbelief.

Bubbles turned around, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her resolve faltering as she faced them. "I don't want to," she admitted, her voice whispering. "But it's better this way for everyone. You have to leave. You need to go."

“So you’re just going to leave–abandoned us!?” The Hispanic teen exclaimed incredulously. 

“JUST LEAVE ALREADY!”

She snapped, holding back the tears of guilt. “Please…” Her voice softened, filled with fragile emotion as the tears cascaded down her cheeks.

𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐄𝐧𝐝✧˖*°࿐

He winced at the painful memory of her. He knew he should reach out to try to understand what was happening, but the weight of his fears and uncertainties held him back. The Alternates, the strange occurrences in Mandela County, Bubbles’s abnormal behavior, and the thought of her secrecy prior to why she pushed them away—all of it was too much to process. 

Mark rubbed his temples, trying to dispel the headache that was forming. He felt things were about to worsen, and the thought made his stomach churn. 

His heart weighed heavy with confusion, concern, and resentment. He knew deep down that Clean Bubbles was struggling with something beyond their comprehension, something that had driven her to push them away. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, the sting of her rejection cutting deep into his soul.

As he sat in the dimly lit living room, the memories of their time together flashed through his mind like a flickering film reel. Laughter echoed in the corners of his thoughts, intertwined with moments of shared joy and camaraderie. But beneath it all lurked a shadow of doubt, a nagging question that refused to be ignored.

What was Clean Bubbles hiding? And why was she so desperate to keep it hidden, even at the cost of their friendship?

A heavy sigh escaped Mark's lips as he leaned back against the couch, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. He knew he couldn't force Clean Bubbles to confide in them, couldn't push her to reveal secrets she clearly wasn't ready to share. But that didn't make the uncertainty any easier to bear.

Cesar’s words echoed in his mind, a reminder of their unwavering loyalty and commitment to each other. But as Mark glanced at the picture book on the coffee table, a pang of sadness gripped his heart. The memories captured within its pages felt like distant echoes of a past that was slipping away, fading into the shadows of uncertainty.

With a heavy heart, Mark closed his eyes, willing himself to find solace in the room's quiet. But no matter how hard he tried to push aside his doubts and fears, they lingered like unwelcome guests, refusing to be ignored.

In that moment of solitude, Mark made a silent vow to himself. He wouldn't give up on Clean Bubbles and abandon her when she needed them the most. Whatever secrets she was hiding, whatever battles she was fighting, they would face them together as friends.

But as he opened his eyes and glanced at the picture book again, a flicker of determination ignited. He may not have all the answers, but he refused to let their friendship be shattered by doubt and uncertainty. They would find a way to bridge the gap, to mend what had been broken, no matter the cost.

*RING! RING! RING!*

Suddenly, his telephone rang just as he was about to leave the house. He reached over and picked up the line cautiously. “H-Hello?” He stuttered slightly, trying to recover from Bubbles’s rejection of his and Cesar’s help.

“::Hey, it’s Cesar. I hope it’s not too late.::” His childhood’s voice spoke over the line. It sounded like him, but it sounded so… monotone and blank in an uncanny way. 

“No,” he dismissed the apology. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. What’s up, are you alright?” 

“::Yeah…::” Cesar drawled. “::It’s not me, it’s my mom… She’s knocked out cold, and I have no idea why. I’m on my way to the ER, but could you do me a favor?::”

He raised an eyebrow but replied, “Yeah, of course. What is it?”

“::I just need you to come over and turn on the cameras we have set up. You know, the ones that we installed after we were robbed?::” 

“Oh yeah. Would you mind if I asked why?” Mark questioned, curious about the details of why and how Cesar’s mom was knocked out.

“::Well, she screamed really loud before I found her on the ground. I… I just-::"

“Well, did you have your doors and windows locked? Like the broadcast told us to do?” Mark cut him off. “Sure, we’ve already had the Celestial Artisan watching over us and everyone. But we know that we can’t rely on that too much.”

“::Yeah, yeah, everything was locked. I made sure of it.::” Cesar’s voice sounded strained, and the worry was evident in his tone. “::I just need to see if there’s anything on the cameras, anything that could explain what happened. And that’s the weird part.::” He cleared his throat. “::My mom- Maybe she saw something? I don’t- I don’t know.::”

Mark nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. “Alright,” he nodded. “I mean- it shouldn’t be too bad. I’m just gonna switch them on and get out of there, though. You know how I feel about your house- especially at this time of the night despite the Celestial Artisan watching over us.” 

“::Yeah, that’s fine.::” Cesar sighed. “::One last thing, try and get a good view of that back hallway.::”

“Okay?”

“::Alright, I got to go. I’m almost at the hospital. Thank you.::” Cesar's voice held a note of gratitude, though it still sounded oddly distant.

“Wait—” Mark paused him quickly. “Hey… is it okay if I get Bubbles to help out? I-I mean—Sure, she did argue with us- but even so, I think she’s just… happened to have a lot of troubles in her life, and she just needs a helping hand. I’m just inviting her over for assistance.”

“::I don’t know about that,::” Cesar’s voice held a note of hesitation. “::Bubbles might still be upset after what happened earlier. Maybe it’s better if you handle this alone.::”

Mark frowned, considering Cesar’s words. There was something off about his friend’s tone that didn’t sit right with him. But he couldn’t ignore Cesar’s request, especially if it involved his mother’s safety.

“Alright, I’ll go over and turn on the cameras,” Mark replied, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “Just keep me updated on your mom’s condition, okay?”

“::Will do. Thanks, Mark.::” The line went dead, leaving Mark with a lingering sense of unease.

He stood up, grabbed his jacket and keys, and went to the door. The night air was cool, starkly contrasting the turmoil in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, not just with Cesar’s mom but with everything that had happened that evening.

As he drove to Cesar’s house, his thoughts drifted back to Clean Bubbles. He couldn't just abandon her despite her harsh words and the distance she tried to create. She had become integral to their lives, and he couldn’t simply walk away.

Arriving at Cesar’s house, Mark parked his car and approached the front door. The house was eerily quiet, and a sense of foreboding hung in the air. He unlocked the door with the spare key Cesar had given him and stepped inside.

The familiar interior was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. Mark felt a chill run down his spine as he made his way to the living room, where the control panel for the security cameras was located.

He switched on the cameras, the screens flickering to life individually. As he scanned the various feeds, he focused on the back hallway, just as Cesar had requested. Everything seemed normal, and nothing went wrong. 

So he left.

But while heading back, a storm of unease erupted in his stomach. He felt like he walked into the trap of an Alternate. 

Why did it feel like he was being followed? 

Why didn’t Cesar turn on the camera before going? 

Why were they off in the first place? 

Why didn’t Cesar give him a full explanation about how his mother passed out? 

She couldn’t just faint from seeing something. Was it that terrifying?

~~~

An hour later, Mark returned to his residence and checked to make sure he had locked all the windows and doors. He quickly got ready to sleep after his quick trip to his friend’s house. But even though he tried to fall asleep, his thoughts still lingered on Bubbles’s condition. 

She was probably still upset and frustrated for telling them to leave her alone and stay away from her. 

Maybe she’s dealing with personal family problems? 

What was the deal that made her push them away? 

What was the danger she was dealing with that they didn’t know? 

Alternates was a first. It couldn’t be more than Alternates. 

How long has Bubbles been dealing with this unknown danger? 

He sighed softly, tossing and turning as he stared at the ceiling, filled with determination. He knew Bubbles was still his and Cesar’s friend, regardless of how she pushed them away.

“Tomorrow…” He muttered to himself, closing his eyes to sleep. “Pay a visit and talk to her.”

[hopeintheashes]

March 2020 stuff under the cut. Long post. Edits for clarity and confidentiality.

I just needed to... process, I guess.

_ _ _

March 22, 2020: The Beginning of All of This

The Penzu prompt is: Why I'm Writing.

I'm writing because this is unprecedented. Because I might want to look back on it someday.

The journey so far. I've cross-checked dates with my texts, work calendar, and VPR as best I can.

Sunday, 3/8 - Time Change Sunday. I hate time change. I know it's going to be a rough week. I have no idea how rough.

Monday, 3/9 - Tired. The kids are tired. We end with take two of our department meeting. Good news, mostly. Next year is sort of starting to feel within reach. Williston and Wilmington are closed, but only as a very short term measure. The first confirmed case in Vermont was announced yesterday. It's in Bennington County. That's pretty far away.

Tuesday, 3/10 - Pretty normal day at work. Still tired. Haven't managed to switch over re: the time change. When I get home, there's an email from the Community Chorus director: Rehearsal is cancelled... because everything on campus is cancelled... because no one is allowed on campus... because they're closing down the campus... and sending all the students home. "What? What??" -- out loud. I had no idea this was coming. It feels like a physical, electric shock. I text K - are we still on for the Welcome to Night Vale this weekend? She's going to find out. They've just announced that there's an outbreak in New Rochelle. Woodstock isn't that close... but it's certainly not that far away.

Wednesday, 3/11 - Eval Planning meeting at School A. After the actual business, we talk about the coronavirus. What else is there to talk about? They're going to close the schools, my coworker says at some point in the day. It's not if, but when. I feel weirdly calm about that. Certainty is better than uncertainty. I text K: Regardless of what the venue decided, I'm not going to venture into the Hudson Valley. It seems safer to stay in Vermont.

Thursday, 3/12 - Three meetings back-to-back at School B. They're meetings that have been on the books for weeks, but still, I'm starting to feel the rush of trying to get everything done. Just in case.

Friday, 3/13 - Now I'm feeling the pressure. There's a 7:30 a.m. meeting with a parent. Five adults including me all in a room just big enough for a table for four. I've been vaguely worried about germs all week, but it's the first time that I think, we shouldn't be doing this. I don't know how to speak up about that. I try not to touch my face. By the end of the school day, my anxiety is running high. They're going to close the schools... right? What does that mean? No one knows. There's an email from the superintendent: The governor is holding a press conference tonight. I watch live. "We're not closing the schools." What do you mean, we're not closing the schools? Am I allowed to opt out even if I'm not personally in a high-risk group? Everything is upside down.

Saturday, 3/14 - My brother's birthday. I text him Happy Birthday. My sister-in-law is making him pie. They're not going out. His office is insisting that everyone come in in person. They're right next to the outbreak in New Rochelle.

Sunday, 3/15 - Admins have been in meetings all weekend. They're in meetings all day today. Another press conference: We are closing the schools. It's mandatory starting 3/18. We have two days to wrap everything up before we step into the abyss. They say the closing goes through 4/6. It still seems possible that we might be back then.

Monday, 3/16 - I'm at School A. We have almost exactly 2/3 of the kids there. As far as I know, it's the highest percentage in the district. I find out later that School B had 1/3. Someone says, "School C [the wealthiest in the district] had like 15 kids in the building." I believe it. The inequalities are already showing strong. [Context note: Those are near-exact matches for the percentage of each student body who qualify for free/reduced price lunch. These are the kids who need to be at school to be safe and fed. The ones whose parents can't stay home.]

After school: Staff meeting. We'd had an agenda... it's out the window. We're just trying to make it through the next two days. Everyone is facing this head-on. Pressing ahead. I half-expected things to fall into panic, but they never did. As I'm going to bed, we get a call: School is off for tomorrow. Yesterday was, it turns out, our last day with the kids. No fucking closure. None at all.

Tuesday, 3/17 - The superintendent says to think of today like a snow day, so I do. I do laundry, and dishes, and watch mountaineering films. One day at a time.

Wednesday, 3/18 - We go in in person. It feels wrong, but we have to pack up our rooms. School B > District Office > School A. Bouncing around, trying to keep our distance. In a lot of ways, it feels like the very end of the year. Spoken or unspoken, everyone is now operating under the assumption that we're not coming back.

Thursday, 3/19 - I go in briefly. Sign my Medicaid billing logs, make sure my coworker has what she needs to finish packing up the room, deliver the paperwork to the district office. And-- that's it. It's remote from here on out.

Friday, 3/20 - Two virtual meetings, then trying to figure things out, then one more virtual meeting. Everything's moving fast, inconsistent. Frustration is starting to build.

Saturday, 3/21 - Finally, some good things: a 3-hour Google Hangout with my college friends.

And-- that's where we are. I'm watching the UU service. Starting to read Rumi. Hopefully convincing Mom and Dad that it's time for them to learn how to do video calls.

More later. We go on.

_ _ _

March 29, 2020: Another Week In

Another week. I'm busy. Busier than I was before. It's weird.

Mon, 3/23 - Fri, 3/27 - Just... work. So much work. Trying to figure out how any of this is going to work.

Thursday, 3/26 - The governor announced that we won't be going back for the rest of the year. It was the next logical step... it still feels like a loss.

Somewhere in all of that, I had a moment of sheer hopelessness, like I've never had before: a flash of, if it's always going to be like this, what's the point in going on? Just a flash, but it scared me.

I talked with friends (phone call or video call) almost every day this week. It helped.

Yesterday, I caught up on sleep. I think. I was still really tired. Some lovely person on Ao3 went through my whole catalog with detailed, pull-quote gushing comments. It was a very nice ego boost. :-)

Today, I watched a different UU service (it was okay), did laundry, went shopping, cleaned all the groceries, did virtual Community Chorus rehearsal, and practiced guitar. That makes me sound productive. I was, in the sense that I got all that done. I also just about panicked about steeping foot outside my house (and into another enclosed space; walks outside are still fine), and was in pain from cramps for hours this afternoon and evening. So.

I think there's a post about gratitude. Maybe I'll make that one separately.

_ _ _

March 29, 2020: Gratitude

In the midst of inexorable low-level panic and the kind of abject hopelessness I thought I'd banished from my life, I've been trying to focus on the positives. It sounds superficial and fake. It's not. I don't think. So, things I am grateful for:

At this exact moment, as far as I know, I and the people I love most in the world are healthy and safe.

From everything I've heard so far, all of my students are housed and fed and accounted for.

I still have a job, and a paycheck, and health insurance, and meaningful work to do on a schedule that looks a lot like it usually would, except that I get to sleep in by an hour.

Levels of video chatting with friends that hasn't happened since they were studying abroad a decade ago (and with much better technology, this time!).

Video chatting with my parents - I've finally convinced them to give it a try!

I have a piano and a guitar and a violin and a mandolin and a clarinet and a flute in my house, and I have been playing two of those things.

As much as being alone sucks (I literally don't know when the next time I will get to touch another human, or even an animal), it does mean that I have control over my environment in a way that does bring my anxiety down.

I found another series to love.

My house is slowly becoming cleaner in the "neater and tidier" sense, as moving around and putting things away is a desirable break after several hours of staring at a screen.

It's walking weather, and the crocuses are starting to appear.

_ _ _

from a later entry: May 23, 2020: Every time I go out, it is into a different world

Sun, March 29 - laundry, groceries

Laundry felt dangerous. I don't have it written down any time between March 6 and March 29. I'm not 100% sure that's right, but it could have been... I think I did four loads. Hand sanitizer, avoiding others. Hot water in the washer; everything through the dryer. Just about holding your breath in between.

A few people had started wearing masks. Hardly any. No masks on staff. First visit with plexiglass shields for cashiers. A few employees wearing masks, but not many. Very few cleaning supplies of any kind. Very few eggs. Almost no flour, although I did snag some. 

From March 18-April 17 (School Closure through Spring Break), everything was full out, all the time, all day, every day. Mind-numbing, exhausting, stressful, feeling like you're failing at everything all the time. One of the administrators tried to ban the expression "building the plane while we're flying it" and the word "overwhelmed." I… think he was kidding?

Wed, April 15 - groceries

  First time wearing a mask in public. Now, at least half the people were doing the same. That weird, involuntary grin of, holy shit, this is happening, the world has turned upside down, this is not a drill kicked in when I passed the first set of other customers wearing homemade cloth masks (not bandanas, not those neck gaiters you can pull up over your face, made-for-the-purpose honest-to-god face masks). I was glad that because of the mask, they couldn't see my face and misinterpret it as excitement - it was a thrill, but a thrill of adrenaline, of, alright, so we're doing this, of, we're off to war.

  Not 100% of staff were wearing masks, but definitely more than last time. Got a little more flour, but it was still in short supply. I think this was the week that most everything was back in stock (except toilet paper, Lysol, or hand sanitizer), certainly everything in the produce section, but weirdly - no bananas. Just that day. Or two weeks; how would I know.

_ _ _

April 10, 2020: Two More Weeks

Two weeks since I went grocery shopping. Two weeks since I did laundry. Two weeks since I was in a shared enclosed space.

I've stopped walking around the block. Too many people. Now I'm in the woods.

I'm finding parts of the park I never knew existed. Going off on trails on a whim. I found the waterfall.

Everything feels both sped up and slowed down. There's so much to do for work. The district's lawyer described it as drinking from a fire hose. That feels... more right than not.

I keep thinking I should go grocery shopping. This internal sense of time. It's time to go to Hannaford's. It's time to wash my clothes. When I actually look in the cupboard and the fridge and the closet, though, I have enough. I'm doing fine.

Even my bank account is fine. For the first time since I moved up here, I'm not worried about money. This morning, after my paycheck and before I paid my credit card bill, I had $6000 in the bank. It's been years. If the stimulus check comes through, I'll get $1200. It doesn't feel fair. I still have a job. Some people are going to donate theirs. I can't bring myself to give up the piece of mind.

Every time I talk to Mom and Dad, they're so-- unworried. They're being careful, but they don't seem stressed. I think it helps that they're up on the hill. No one in sight but the cows.

I feel like I should be writing. The barrier is the amount of time. I think it's been a year.

I think I need to eat something real. I'm not sure what. Or maybe sleep. I don't know what I want. Nothing sounds good.

I listed to As It Is' album The Great Depression on repeat while I was out walking. It felt good, and now it feels insubstantial.

It all feels insubstantial.

I think I need to eat. I definitely need to make bread. I'm out. There's still crackers, and tortillas, and stuff like that. I'm not too worried. But I should probably make some bread.

I feel like I'm failing all the time.

And then I go in the woods and I don't feel like I'm failing. It snowed today. Big fat flakes. Then back to rain. Snow-rain-snow-rain, all my rain gear slick but I was warm and safe, sliding in the mud.

I see my kids and I don't feel like I'm failing. I found a way to put away my school stuff, and that didn't feel like failing.

Productivity is good. And exhausting. It's hard to tell the difference between inertia-exhaustion and hard work-exhaustion.

And I'm always in pain. All this sitting around is terrible.

I need to get up and eat.

_ _ _

April 10, 2020: update from two hours later

I ate real food.

It helped.

_ _ _

Epilogue: August 17, 2020: Two to go

Last entry was three work days left. Today's is two days until work begins.

Summer has been... summer: walking in the woods in the rain and sleeping weird hours and cleaning my entire house and watching entire shows in one go.

In a lot of ways, the strangest part was not being able to camp with A, not because of lockdown, but because her baby is too young. Like the downtown construction, might as well consolidate all the weirdness into one year.

Some parts feel normal. Someday (I assume) we'll be able to go back into indoor spaces with strangers and not wear masks. To hug our students and give high-fives. To visit family without checking the map to see if it's allowed. For now, though, the masks at least feel normal. Feel safe. Feel right. It's going to be a long time before I feel safe around strangers again.

_ _ _

postscript: and then i spent a year processing it all through fiction.

[middleagerunblog]

X.

Week 1 Recap

Exercise:

Sun Dec 10 - walked 30 minutes on the treadmill after dinner

Mon Dec 11 - 6:07a, outdoors near home, 3 mi, 31:19, 10:25 pace

Tue Dec 12 - 6:04a, think I did it wrong, 5x400m in 8:00 to 8:40 pace range, walking in between, then I did a 5k in 27:58, 8:59 pace, will figure this out for next time

Wed Dec 13 - 6:05a, outdoors near home, 3 mi, 31:08, 10:20 pace

Thu Dec 14 - rest, maybe too much? only walked 6,508 steps the whole day

Fri Dec 15 - 6:09a, outdoors near home, 3 mi, 30:59, 10:18 pace

Sat Dec 16 - around 11a, 5 mi on hotel treadmill, 51:13, 10:15 pace

Diet:

Not terrible weeking eating-wise for the first week. I still need to figure things out, i.e. preferring a 16/8 noon-8p low carb eating strategy which doesn't really go with running. I allowed myself some carbs after lunch this week. I allowed myself some mid-morning snacks too when I was hungry after a run. We've been on a good routine cooking at home lately, so that helps.

The week ended with a bang though, Saturday at the hotel for a soccer tournament wasn't the greatest eating, but I didn't too bad considering the weird eating times and limited options. Did drink too much though because other dads kept buying me drinks. I had 2 beers and thought that'd be that, but then 4 more drinks were delivered to me over the course of the night.

Alcohol for the week - 6 drinks total, averaging just under one per day, but that was zero Sun-Fri, then 6 on Saturday, let's make this the high water mark and taper down from here.

Grading my diet...

Sun A-

Mon B+

Tue B+

Wed A-

Thu B

Fri B

Sat C

EGPA for the week of 3.14, a B/B+ average

Weigh-in:

I did my first official weigh-in on Friday at 190.9, so there's no loss or gain to report.

Music:

New song I heard this week and liked - "Numb" by Have Mercy (2023)

The more that I speak, the more I feel so numb And when the words just get in the way, how do you want ‘em?

Old song new to me I heard this week and liked - "The Energy Story" by College (2008)

It's all started when he was kid

Old song I listened to the first time in a while this week - "Back on the Train" by Phish (2000)

When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand Ideas that would take me all around the world I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountain curl It took me a long time to get back on the train

Rereading:

I feel more disconnected from the book because I'm not reading it every day. The first time I read it in 3 weeks by reading ~25 pages per day. In some way I can't explain, it motivated me to run another half marathon and start this blog. But now I just reread until there's a quote I want to post here and then stop. So I've read 46 pages over the course of week 1 and I'm not sure how I feel about going this slowly.

I've reread the first 5 chapters. The Boy Name Crow has convinced Kafka to run away. Kafka packs his things, takes some money and a cell phone from his dad and takes an overnight bus to Takamatsu. On the bus he meets Sakura and wonders if she's his sister. He finds his way to the Komura Libaray and meets Oshima and Miss Saeki. He reads Arabian Nights. Maybe I should read that too to mix in some more reading to this blogging process.

There's been two flashbacks to the unexplained Rice Bowl Hill incident where the school children fall into brief comas toward the end of WW2. They all recover quickly but for one boy named Nakata.

The thing that stands out to me upon reread so far is the battle between fate and freedom. I mean, maybe that's what this whole book is about. But I didn't catch how clearly that's setup from the jump.

One thing I didn't notice or think about the first time through is the location of the Rice Bowl Hill incident. Could it be in the same place as the forest cabin that comes later in the book?

[vanessaroades-author]

— february 19 - 25

this week: introduction to my process ; new chapter playing with the gods ; shifting to the next step ; time to think about preorder incentives

So…hi! I’ll be keeping a log of my process and methods here, for future me—and hopefully to inspire/help others with ideas on how to tackle their editing.

(And maaaayyybe creating some interest for this book? Who knows!)

Deep Roots is in the final-ish stages. Final structural edits and, for some sections, final line edits/proofing (it’s a pretty long book, so everything has been moving at a slightly different pace).

My tactic this round is to break out the highlighters as well as the pen.

(I cannot emphasize the importance & ease of doing edits like this in a physical copy. I got mine from Lulu.)

Highlighting:

Deep Roots is dense as hell—at least, the densest book I’ve ever written. Lore, realms, religion, two centuries of emotional & relationship & world history for two key characters…a level of technology I’ve never tackle before…twists & reveals that depend on the reader remembering specific information…

And it’s also super repetitive.

So I’m highlighting each scrap of information I doled out to cut down on repeated info AND make sure readers are learning at a steady pace. Pink for Irving’s backstory, blue for religion or the gods, green for the history of the kingdom, so on and so forth.

It also helps me see when I’m interrupting myself (or my characters) to drop exposition, or when scenes are 90% exposition and nothing else.

This was super helpful when I decided to turn a fact of my MC’s backstory into a surprise reveal. I just had to search for the pink highlights and chop accordingly.

Line editing:

I’m up to chapter 15 on line editing. Halfway through that process, I tore through two editing advice books and returned to my old documents full of advice & tactics.

And you can really see the difference. All those strike-throughs! I’m a pretty chatty writer and have been trying to fix that in as many ways as possible through my many projects and many edits.

Some basics I’ve really been trying to remember this time:

- stop interrupting your dialogue with exposition, beats, tags, or unneeded exchanges. Let those conversations flow! - if a sentence gives you the SLIGHTEST “ehh…” feeling, cut it without mercy - end the chapters much earlier, and start them much later, than your first instinct tells you to

But I’ve also been trying to remember that my chattiness can’t vanish entirely or else I’ll be editing this for another year, which I cannot do. Spring 2023 release was a threat against myself…

Brainstorming/mapping:

Right now it’s character arc fix time. Irving’s is pretty fine, just with some minor weak spots I can polish up. Eirjatal’s is…my dude, what are you doing?? It’s one that got knocked around by plot changes the most, so his sanity appears to be held on by a mere thread.

— new chapter!

The god is emanating from the statue. Much stronger than expected. They’re shown with the head turned so both faces can be seen in profile from the front, with hands crossed, one flexed into a rune for end, the other for beginning. What world were those from? This world began with letters and words instead; Karadenza wanted to see how that would work, so she began this world with wheels and cobblestone roads and welded metal and the written word.

“Chiroscuroi,” she greets. Chiroscuroi likes presentation and incense, but it would be too rude to do that if the Blind Adder followed up with her plan. Now that would be gauche. So, just, again, “Chiroscuroi.”

A consistent issue in this book has been long stretches of conversation and an overall “slow burn” on plot. I decided that the quicker I signal to the readers that there is a wider world outside of this castle and there’s a plan going on with the gods, the better.

I keep trying to cut word count but sometimes sacrifices gotta be made—more words for more context. /headdesk

— preorder incentives?

The chaos of self-publishing is really making itself apparent now. Once upon a time it was all about writing and forging social media connections.

Now it’s like—oh I need a Goodreads page. Oh to do that I need my cover. Oh to do that I need an artist and then a designer (though I was super lucky and got an artist who did both!). Oh I should get my BookFunnel. Oh I’ll need an Amazon page, so I need an ISBN. I can’t have the preorder without—preorder goodies oh no oh god oh shit i have to make them AND THEN manufacture them?! Then SEND THEM?!

I’ve always known one thing I can do for sure is stickers! I can draw well enough and there are nearby manufacturers. So that’s at least one thing I know for sure, though I’m tossing around ideas for a second thing that isn’t going to take too much time or break the bank.

Task in the next couple days is to draw those, get my fabulous writing group to tell me what works and doesn’t work, and then have the final files by the next time I post this editing diary.

[antispopausandstuff]

some self-care adora hcs

she does 10-15 minutes of stretching and/or yoga in the morning

gives non-verbal positive affirmations by kissing some of her scars and her hands

when she's having a lazy day, she'll indulge in a book or two

on an active day, she'll go for a walk or jog

writes herself notes/reminders that she's worth more than being she-ra ( most of the time, she works through her problems as adora now )

practices taking a nap when she's tired, eating when she's hungry, etc. ( it's a long process, but she gets better at it )

motivates herself about mundane things

reminds herself that she's not stupid by realizing her efforts in academic-related studies

wearing whatever she wants when she wants to ( even if she looks goofy )

swimming or flying w/ swift wind ( it calms her down and quietens the world around her ) i have more, but i just really love the idea of adora taking small steps towards taking care of herself every day. she deserves to be happy <3

[night-market-if]

Part 21

Paper Lanterns is a community based IF game here on Tumblr.  I need something to fuel the creative fires while I chip away at The Night Market demo, and I want to give you all a little something in the meantime.  Here’s how it will work.

I will post a snipped under the cut every few days.  At the end of the post will be three options.  Comment below or send me an ask if you would rather be anonymous, over which route you would like to see.  I will tally them up and write the majority option and post it in the following days. From there, we repeat the process until we, as a community, have crafted our story.

Please reblog and share this with others.  The more people we have participating, the more fun I think this can be for us.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 under the cut

Winner of last vote: Take Rat to Hazel's

Swiping a hand down your face, you can feel the way your body shakes. A child. A fucking child.  The retreating sounds of footsteps splashing in the water echo in your ears as you watch the boy before you grow more and more pale.  You knew that helping him was going to mean you’d lose out on this opportunity. But maybe you could come back? When you knew the kid was safe?

It was a hope you tried to cling to as you scooped ‘Rat’ up in your arms.  Though you knew it was not going to end well for you.

Tucking the bundle of rags close, you exited the alley, ignoring the looks you received as you quickly made your way through the Spice District.

“Is that Rat?” One of the vendors, you weren’t sure which, called out in concern.  It didn’t matter. You couldn’t stop.  Stopping to explain was going to do absolutely nothing except ensure that there was a dead kid in your arms.  No one here would be able to help, after all. You knew you were taking him to the only person that would know how.

“Stay with me, okay?” you whispered to the kid.  “I’m going to get you help.”  There was no response from inside the rags, but you could feel the slight pulse of breath beneath your palms. “You shouldn’t be out here anyway,” you tell him, slightly hysterical. “This isn’t really a place for a kid.”  

Turning down Hazel’s alley, you could feel the ghosts that lingered in the burnt out shops around you.  Their eyes were ticking towards what you held, ready to claim another soul. Eager for company.  You ignored the eyes you could see peering at you from the shadows, victims of a long ago crime that had never been able to let go.  They were pressing forward tonight, calling to you, beckoning for you to step just a little closer.

You ignored them, rushing down the smokey corridor until you burst into the clear, fresh air of Hazel’s garden. You wasted no time going through the gate and into the shop.  Hazel was at the counter, wrapping her orders for the day.

“Back already? I thought it would at least be…” the smile faded from her face.

You walked past her to a small table near the back where you, her and Malcolm often played cards.  Knocking aside the few books and the morning remnants of tea that still gathered there, you laid the boy down.  His eyes were closed now and his breathing shallow.

Hazel gathered bandages and herbs without question before rushing to your side and pushing you out of the way.  

“I don’t know where he’s hurt,” you say softly.  There was blood on your hands.  It was drying under your nails.  “He was taking me to the gate and was just a little ways ahead and then…” When Hazel brushed aside the layers of clothe, a deep stab wound was carved into the boy's side.  It looked jagged and puffy, and you didn’t know if that was the kind of wound that was only going to fester until those final breaths or if Hazel would be able to conduct a miracle.

“Did you see the attacker or the weapon used?” Hazel asked. She was busying herself with a few jars, packing herbs and foul smelling pastes into a compress.

“No.” You leaned against the support beam of the shop, looking at the face of your informant.  It didn’t make sense. He was young. Much younger than you or Hazel, by far. It wasn’t even that he had a youthful face. You could see it, now that the rags were torn clear. He was nothing more than a boy.  Couldn’t even be over thirteen.  Your stomach rolled with sick.

“This is going to hurt, so I’ll need you to hold his hands down,” Hazel’s voice was flat, her expression determined.  It took you a much longer moment to move, but you did as she said, not knowing Hazel to have steered you wrong yet. 

Kneeling by the table, you took the thin wrists in your hands, pinning them down.  When Hazel started packing the wound with the different salves she had mixed, Rat’s green eyes shot open, his back bowing off the table in a silent scream.  Hazel didn’t flinch. You know you turned away, but her own gaze was determined as she worked quickly, a soft glow of pale gold encircling the wound.  When Rat slumped back down on the table, his eyes were closed again, his breathing even.

You looked at Hazel, feeling your heart thud against your chest. She sat back on her haunches, coils of brown hair having fallen in front of her now ashen face.  “Can you do me a favor?” she asked.  You could only nod.  “Can you close up the shop for the day? I don’t think I have it in me to do much more.”  Already, you could see her eyes drooping.

“Is he going to be…?”

She nodded. “He should make it through. You got him here quick enough.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, letting the boy go.  You could feel your own body vibrating with adrenaline and knew that despite the danger having passed, you were still threaded through with a live wire, ready to fly apart at any moment.  

Going to the door, you went to go flip the sign to closed, intent on getting both Rat and Hazel situated before contacting Malcolm.  You needed to deal with the gate, but you didn’t feel comfortable leaving them here on their own either.

The door flung open before you could touch it, slamming against the wall in a loud crack.  It sent you stumbling back as you looked up at the figures standing in the doorway.  Their faces were cast in shadow, the dim light of the shop covering them as they hovered on the other side of the threshold.  You could see them ticking their eyes past your shoulder and down towards Hazel, who was slumped on the floor.

“Fuck,” you muttered.  The sheen of their red velvet coats became more apparent the longer you looked at them.  You were going to be arrested. You had been seen running through the market with a wounded child, blood coating your hands. It wasn’t a good image, and the Velvet Guard rarely asked questions before jumping to their own conclusions.  Pinching the bridge of your nose, you stepped forward, hoping to explain to them what had actually happened.  They didn’t even look at you, though.

“Hazel Albright, you are under arrest.”

Voting closed! Part 22 here

Get in their way and demand why

Try to stop them from coming further into the shop. The Velvet Guard were not known to listen to reason.

Take the blame for whatever crime they were about to accuse her of.

Letting you all know, the Velvet Guard is not exactly known to listen to reason. :)

Please check out the Night Market demo linked below if you haven't already. Reblogs and feedback are also love! Also, there is a Paper Lanterns discord now. Click the link below to join.

Patreon || Ko-fi || Demo || Discord

[pixla]

hi hon! i adore your writing and i have a request for tommy: so you know that scene in the caves when alice breaks her leg and cindy has to like put the bone back into place? could that be with tommy x gn! reader instead? and both of them have a really really cute moment where the reader confesses how they never felt alive until they met and started dating tommy? they both survive and flashforward with fluffy smut pls?

Special thanks to the j-st-patricks-day and all my friends who helped with the process of writing this fic <3

broken bones and beating hearts

Tommy slater x nb!reader

Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of murder, graphic descriptions of injury (eg. Broken bones and stabbings/cuts), Possessed!Cindy, alice dies, Arnie dies, vomiting, fluff, pet-names, knocking out teeth, sex, unprotected sex, this au doesn’t fit with any of the other films (feel free to tell me if there’s any others)

Word count: 3.2k

POVC= point of view change

Tommy gripped your wrists pulling you out through the narrow cavern as it collapsed only seconds later. “Fuck!” You tucked your legs close to your body, trying to shake the feeling of Cindy's grip around your ankles. “What the fuck is happening?” You looked up as Tommy still held you close, you both too scared to move from the previous near death experience.

Everything was normal. You had all just ran out into the woods, you and Alice teasing Cindy about some stupid witchcraft book she had found in nurse lane’s office. But then Cindy decided to slash Alice and Arnie’s guts open with a machete.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried, bawling your hands into fists, wandering down what felt like endless hallways. You both soon realised that you had been going in a circle. It didn’t make any sense, it felt like another dimension or a mirror maze, where everything looked the same, maybe even was the same. “Y/N.” You turned your head to face tommy. “What?” He looked at you confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

You were going to shake it off as you just imagining it, but then you heard it again. “Y/N!” This time you knew it wasn’t Tommy, it was a woman. “Hello?!” You yelled out, hoping that someone had finally come to your rescue, but Tommy just continued to look at you like you were crazy.

You strayed from Tommy’s side following as the voice repeated your name. “Where are you going?” Tommy yelled after you as you wandered, not bothering to pay any attention to his questions.

You followed the voice, bending through the same corridors and hallways, not knowing where you’d end up. It was when you twisted round one corner you halted in your steps. It was a huge room, far larger than any of the ones you had previously found. But the greatest way it stood out was the mass in the centre of the room.

It was dark and fleshy, like clumps of meat thrown into a pile. You gasped as you stood closer gaining a better look at the thing. It was alive. It rose up and down almost like it was breathing and it thumped like a beating heart. With each whisper of your name you grew closer, drawn to it. You reached your hand out transfixed, but when your hand melted into its flesh, you froze.

It all flashed through your brain so fast. Cyrus Miller, ruby lane, billy baker…Cindy Berman. It was every single one of those shadyside phycos, even Cindy. It was all of the pain, all of the suffering and all of the evil. You lifted your hand, a thick slime dragging with. You backed up slowly, expecting to hit a wall. You were soon proved wrong when you felt your body fly backwards.

You cried out as you landed with a thud, Tommy finally catching up to you, peering over to find you clutching your leg in pain. “Shit, are you okay?!”

He had jumped down helping to lift you from the pit. You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks like a broken faucet, your hands clutching at His shirt. Tommy held you running his finger gently through your hair, shushing you softly as you buried yourself into his warmth.

Tommy gently slipped from your hold, leaning down to examine the damage. It was bad. So bad, you could practically see the bone protruding from the skin. You felt your gut wrench at the sight causing you to lean over beside you, regurgitating your dinner onto the cold cave floor. “Don’t look, okay? Just look at me.” Tommy leant over wiping your mouth with his jacket. You nodded slowly, trying your best to keep your eyes locked with Tommy’s despite how hard your morbid curiosity urged you to look down. Ripping his plaid jacket into strips he looked up at you. “We’re gonna get out of here. You’re gonna get out of here. No matter what I do, I’m gonna make sure I protect you, just like I always have.”

“I love you so much Tommy. I’ve never and never will love someone the way I do you.” You lean into him pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t lose you, okay?” He nods sympathetically, pressing a light kiss to the slope of your nose.

“Do you remember those dates we’d go on, out to the forest at night, and we’d just lay there, staring up through the cracks in the trees?” You nod. “I want you to think about that, okay? I want you to think about how many more we’ll go on once we get out of here.”

You hold a tight grip on his arm as he wipes away at the area. “I’m gonna have to put it back into place now.”

You pleaded with him, as the tears started again. “Please, no. Please just leave me here. Just go and find help okay? I can’t do it Tommy, I can’t do it”

“Hey, hey, hey. C’mon, look at me.” He places his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to look him in the eye. “You're gonna be fine, okay? You just gotta focus right now.” You nod timidly, the tears starting to slow.

He holds the bottom of your calf with one hand and your heel with the other. “Just count to three and I’m gonna do it, okay baby?” He looks up at you, his soft words lulling your anxiety. You bite your knuckle nervously, unsure as to how you should answer, but the look of trust in his eyes persuades you easily. “Okay.”

You breathe in. “One, two-” You let out a blood curdling scream as a large crack rung out, bouncing against the walls of the cave. Your fist gripped Tommy’s forearm tightly as you cried out a series of various curses. “You fucking asshole.” You whine out in pain, letting out an airy laugh trying to brighten your rather dull circumstances.

“You're okay baby.” You wince as he wraps the piece of fabric he had ripped from his jacket around your leg, tying it tight enough to hold you together for the moment. You grabbed Tommy’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist lifting you from the ground. You hiss as you feel your leg throb from the sudden movement. “Do you think you’re able to stand?” Tommy watches as you wobble trying to stay grounded. You nod. “Yeah.” You had no choice and you both knew it, if you wanted to live, you’d have to.

You both started your journey, finally entering a new environment as you trudged deeper into the earth of Shadyside. Why did these tunnels even exist? The intricate details of the maze made it easy to come to the conclusion that they were man made, but by who? Not once had you ever heard of these tunnels, and by the looks of it, nobody else had either, despite nurse Lane of course.

“Be careful.” Tommy tightened his grip around you. “You might slip.”

“Okay.” You mumble, too exhausted to form a real answer. You looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. The further the two of you walked, the denser this moss became. You felt a wave of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Red moss…red moss! It hit you, Cindy! Her red stained shirt, she said it was from the moss in the outhouses. “Tommy! It’s the fucking outhouses! We fucking made it!” You would probably be jumping up and down with joy right now if it wasn’t for your broken leg.

You look up, spotting the out house toilet openings. Wow, real nice, you’re both sitting in Sunnyvale shit and piss right now. “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get out?” Tommy sighs looking up at the roughly 15 foot climb. “You can’t climb that.”

You look at him. “Yeah, but you might.”

“No. I’m sorry but no, I’m not leaving you down here, especially when there’s Cindy running around up there trying to kill us. C’mon let’s go, if we’re at the outhouses, we must be near to camp.” He directs you along but before you can both carry on your interrupted. “Did you hear that?!”

“No I-“

“Shush.” You both stayed quiet listening as to what caught your attention. It’s screaming. Someone is screaming from the outhouses. “Hey! Help! Please, we’re stuck down here!” You yell trying to get the attention of the voices.

The space grows quiet as the screaming halts, the both of you waiting nervously for any indication of life when a head pops out from one of the seat holes. “What the fuck are you guys doing in the toilets?!”

It was ziggy, Cindy's sister. “Ziggy..” you wonder if it’s right to tell her what’s happened to her sister but you decide against it, not wanting to put the girl in such an emotionally vulnerable state whilst she’s already physically. “Gary’s up here too!” She yells down as Gary’s head pops out another toilet hole. “Hey!” He yells, surprisingly light heartedly considering there’s a murderer running around camp butchering little kids with a fucking machete. “Can you get us out of this fucking toilet or not?!”

Gary had managed to make some sort of bucket contraption with some rope. “It’s just like You’re Gothel climbing up Rapunzel's hair, okay?!” He yelled down, lowering it down to you.

You're about to slip onto the contraption when you hear Ziggy's unfortunately very familiar screams, and before you know it Gary’s decapitated body lies beside you on the floor. You and Tommy let out an in sync gasp, him pulling you away into his chest, as to protect you from the image. “We’re gonna have to find another way out.”

You think to yourself. Alice…she had shown you something whilst you were robbing nurse lanes office with Arnie. “I know how.” You pull out the book that started this whole thing.

“Baby, I don’t get how that book is gonna help us, let’s be honest it’s some random witches and wizards bullshit written how many hundreds of years ago?”

“No, tommy.” You turn the book to him parting the pages. “It’s a map.” You rest the book on the floor, the two of you leaning over it. “It's a map of camp, you see over here, these x’s are the graves we found. And over here, that’s where we entered.” You point your finger on the page. “Here, there’s another exit. Mess hall.”

His eyes lighten. “Jesus, fuck! You’re so smart!” He pulls you in for a kiss.

—-

You sat, your back arched over as you watched Tommy laid on his back kicking open the vent that led to the mess hall when another scream rang out. You instantly knew that it was ziggy, far too acquainted with the tone of her screams.

“Tommy!” With one final kick the vent flew open, Tommy hauling himself through in a split second. “Don’t move, stay here! I’m gonna go help Ziggy.”

Tommy always cared so much for the kids at camp, you honestly weren’t surprised that he was willing to risk his life for one of them.

—povc—

Tommy barged through the doors of the mess hall, an all too familiar song ringing through the speakers, the noise made his head thump as it blared.

Tommy followed the screams, grabbing a mallet that lied on a nearby counter. Cindy stood beating at a supply closet door as ziggy screamed from within. Tommy pulled cindy's shoulder for her to face him as he swung the mallet into her jaw. Cindy tumbled to the ground as she spat a mouthful of blood and teeth onto the floor. Tommy hesitated holding the mallet in his hand, ready to strike Cindy. But before he could come to any decision Cindy grabbed her machete from the ground slicing at Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy dropped to the floor, his mallet sliding across the freshly mopped floor tiles, Cindy rising to her feet, towering over Tommy. Overpowered, he crawled backwards digging the heels of his hands into the cold tile floor. He was braced for impact when Cindy stopped turning around.

—povc—

You lunged at her digging the knife you found into her back, pulling it out as she turned to face you, plunging it into her chest over and over until she hit the floor unresponsive. You fell. You had finally reached your limit. Your leg was broken for fucks sake and you just murdered Cindy. Pure-hearted, hard working Cindy Berman. You plunged your knife deep into her chest until you split it down the middle. You dragged your body over to Tommy’s wrapping your arms around him, wetting his shirt as you became inconsolable. He held his hand at the back of your neck placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. She’s dead now, we’re gonna be okay.”

You heard as ziggy opened the closet door, dropping to her knees at the sight of her sister dead on the floor. The red headed girl pulled her sister's body over to face her, wrapping her arms around Cindy crying into her cold lifeless body. You crawled over to the girl pulling her away from her sister's touch into yours. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

The three of you struggled as you heard the last bell ring signalling that the bus would be leaving. Ziggy yelled out as the bus doors began to close. The wheels began to roll forwards but before it could depart a boy budged the doors open, calling out to her. “Ziggy!” You released your grip from the girl's side as she ran to him, embracing him. You rested your head on Tommy’s shoulder at the sight of the two. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

The two of you had found a place on the bus as Ziggy sat with you fellow councillor Nick goode. Finally being able to breathe, you rest your head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you're okay.” You look up at him smiling at his words. “Maybe you're the one who really needs protecting, without me you’d be dead meat.” You press your lips together, smiling softly into the kiss. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

Your eyes wandered to the window watching as the camp nightwing sign slowly floated away out of sight. Finally it was over.

———

After the accident medics treated and hospitalised many of the camp nightwing campers and counselors such as you and Tommy. Your leg was thankfully saved. They said if not for Tommy it probably would have had to be amputated due to infection.

It was two months since that night, you still had to use crutches but besides that, you made a speedy recovery alongside tommy. Although he was in a much less critical condition than you and was discharged within a few days, he still spent every night in the hospital with you.

You laid beside Tommy his leg slotted between yours as the velvet underground played softly in the background. You run your fingers through his hair slowly as he whines quietly into your chest. It finally felt like the first time since that day that you both could finally relax.

You pulled away from his touch leaning over him, kissing his lips softly. “You look so pretty.” You hum. He smiles into the kiss. “Not as much as you, baby.”

You lifted yourself straddling Tommy’s hips, deepening the kiss as your hands ran down playing with the hem of his shirt, travelling underneath. He pulls away, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. You removed your shirt as Tommy’s hands floated up to your waist.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbles, kissing up your chest slowly as you take off your pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor.

You lean down unbuttoning Tommy’s jeans, taking him in your hand. Tommy twitches at the contact as you align himself to you. You lower yourself onto him slowly as his hands hold a firm grip on your lower back. Tommy lays his head back, his hips thrusting up into you.

You shiver as you lift yourself up and down, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. His thrusts hardened, your soft whimpers of his name encouraging him. “You look so fucking good right now.” He gripped your waist helping you keep a steady pace.

You steadied yourself, leaning your arms out pressing your hands against his chest as you felt yourself near your climax. “Shit, Tommy I’m gonna come.” You whined under your breath.

“Don’t worry baby, me too.” He runs his hands down your back lovingly.

You threw your head back as you felt Tommy’s hand wander down edging you on further, your breath quivering at the touch. You felt his hips buckle beneath you as he reached his peak, yours following soon after.

You sighed your body collapsing onto his chest. “I love yours so much.” You mumble into his skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

—-

It was the 16th anniversary since that day at nightwing, the two of you still happily together. Despite the permanent scar that night had left on the both of you mentally and physically, you both managed to stay strong, the event probably making the two of you even closer than you already were before.

Every year instead of hiding from the memories of that night, you both embrace it. Tommy’s favourite way to do this was to ‘reenact your youths’ in his words by driving the two of you out to the forest, where you would’ve spent so many nights together when you were younger.

You would open the sunroof and lay out the seats creating a little bed for the two of you. Probably not the safest thing the two of you could do, but most definitely the sweetest.

The two of you laid there staring up at the trees, resting your head on Tommy’s chest, your arm draped across his abdomen. Looking up at him you pressed a small kiss to the slope of his nose, pressing your heads together. The moonlight glazed over his cheeks, giving him a paler look. “You look so beautiful.”

—-

The car ride home was quiet but the atmosphere felt soft and comforting as Tommy rested his hand on your inner thigh. The velvet underground played softly on the radio as your eyes gazed out at the passing scenery.

[fwkei]

Time.

Kazutora x fem!reader (angst/fluff)

CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, (slight) mention of starvation.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR VALHALLA ARC

Note! Explanation of story at end just incase you’re confused also i apologize for mistakes, i did not read this over. 🙆🏻‍♀️

WC: 3.4k

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

You sat at the edge of your seat. Watching the clock above your teacher's head ever so closely. 

“When you want to find the common di-” 

Suddenly the bell rang, interrupting your teacher from his final words. 

“Oh my bad, guess I lost track of time, anyways please remember to study for your quiz on Monday! I know it's a weekend, but save some time for academics!” said your teacher as your classmates packed up their stuff to leave. 

Today was Friday, meaning it was the day you get to visit Kazutora at juvie for the first time after Keisuke's death, and your attempt. It was 3:30, and visiting hours started at 4 to 5 every Friday for inmates. Running to the metro takes about 5-7 minutes, and walking from the station to the actual juvie takes about 20 minutes, while the ride lasts up to 10, meaning you should arrive there at around 4:10. And there's no time to waste. 

You ran out of class, ignoring your fellow classmates goodbyes. You held your book bag tight as you ran fast to the Tokyo station. Seeing you arrived just on time you jumped in just before the 3:30 o'clock train leaves to a different side of the district where Kazutora is being held. You held onto the rail beside you to keep yourself steady as the train started to move . 

You felt scared but happy to see Kazutora. He most probably didn't know you would be coming, he probably thought you would at most write letters to him, like before, but again...Kazutora believes that you hate him now. You didn't know what you were going to say to him. Draken told you that he already visited him while you were in psychiatric hold for a bit, and he told you that Kazutora was planning on killing himself. Draken did not specify if he told Kazutora about your own attempt but you didn't worry too much because you were healing, and you now had hope.  

Your heart was racing, as the train came to a stop. As the doors opened you ran, and fast. Dodging people to not hurt them and almost stepping on things you shouldn’t be stepping on. You checked the time to see it was 4:01, and you still had about 10 minutes worth of walking/running to cover. 

You were breathing heavily when the Juvenile building came into view. You checked the time again to see it was 4:11. You jogged to the doors of the building despite the fact that your thighs were burning from the amount of cardio you had just done. 

It's all worth it. 

You thought to yourself opening the doors. 

Kazutora sat on the bed of his bland and colorless cell. He signed as he looked up at the ceiling light before turning his position to look at the side of the wall. He held his pillow tight. He knew it was visiting day, and his heart was anxious despite the fact that others had already been called to see their visitors, and there was still no call for him. He didn't even expect any visitors.

Kazutora didn't know if he wanted to see you or not. He’s spent so much time alone in his cell thinking. He wondered if you had figured out the other reason for him stabbing his best friend, you could read people, but he knew you had a hard time reading him. He felt his heart ache. He was scared of the karma that would hit him because of it. Maybe not even Karma, but just some sort of punishment, for causing pain to the soul that cared for him so much, and for not being there for that soul when she needed it the most. Which... ultimately lead to your attempt, which Draken told him about during his visit. He shut his eyes as he remembered Draken's words. 

“I don’t wanna hear you say there is no point anymore. Because there is, and it’s kinda frustrating and irritating how you can’t see it even though it’s right there. She’s in psychiatric hold right now because she was close to ending her own life. After Baji died, and you were taken away, Y/n couldn't take it anymore, and no one could see it because she just...she just kept it in, like you do. She was going to die on Baji’s birthday if I wasn’t there to make her throw up the pills she took. Her and I may not be blood related siblings, but I know she’s been through a lot and has always gotten over it just fine, you know that...but this time...I got really fucking scared.”

Kazutora felt his heart drop to fucking hell at Draken’s words. He felt his breathing stop as his mouth parted.

“I know you love her, I'm not sure in what way but I could care less about that. I know, Kazutora. All those times you came crying to the brothel, crying into her arms, begging for some type of help and she helped you, lended you her body for you to cry on, I’d hear all of it. I know you’re hurting, but if you go, I don't think she will be able to live with herself. She’ll blame herself for not being there for you like she’s always been. Do you understand?”

He felt his body throb from literal physical pain. Kazutora was feeling and getting the punishment he deserved right then and there. 

“You owe it to her, whether you like it or not, to stay alive because she's doing the same for you. And once you’re out of here, you should finally grow up. Let her cry into your arms for once. She’s your best friend, right? Because she deserves for those efforts to be reciprocated. And you deserve to see what she’s gone through because of everything that happened. Take care, Kazutora.” 

Kazutora was lost in his own mind, to the point where he couldn't even register that one of the guards was calling his name from the cell door.

“Hm? I’m sorry I wasn't...uh, paying attention. What did you say?” he asked sitting up nervously 

“You got a visitor, kid. C’mon get up.” said the man unlocking his cell 

“A- visitor?” he said quietly getting up from his bed with shocked eyes 

It was already 4:15. Kazutora grew anxious at who his visitor could be. He was sure it wasn't you, your school is too far for you to make it here in time. There would only be a couple minutes to spare if you did try. Could it be Draken wanting to give him a word of advice? Or maybe Chifuyu.. Maybe Mikey? God, who could it be. It made him feel even more congested and trapped than before.  

As Kazutora walked, he looked down at his feet avoiding people's gazes. He saw the backs of his fellow juvenile delinquents from the side of his eye. His heartbeat became stronger, and he felt it thumbing in his ears. God, he didn't know what to expect. He was just so...frustrated. 

“Here, you have until 5.” said the guard, taking off his hand cuffs. His back was facing you. You grew anxious bringing your hands to rest on your things and skirt, waiting for him to turn around and look at you. You watched as he rubbed his wrists and sat down at the stool still not looking at you. You rubbed your hands together under the table separating you both, as the guard walked away to patrol. Your eyes followed the guard, not even noticing that Kazutora had turned to look at your face. 

Kazutora felt his face get hot at the sight of you. You had a school shirt on, with a dark blue tie and a sweater vest, Your hair tied into a low and messy bun with some of you natural and dyed hairs falling out framing your face. He felt his whole body go warm as you turned your head and gave him a nervous smile as a small blush formed. He didn't know why he was scared to see you, because every time Kazutora had the chance to see you, he instantly felt better, no matter what.

You two, and the other inmates and visitors, were all separated by a piece of plastic with a vent to capture sound better. On the side there was a subsection with an opening to the other side where you could pass things through. Such as notes, toys, hygiene stuff, and extra. You brought your hands to the table holding them.

“Hey...sorry I’m late.” you said as you saw Kazutora snap out of his gaze 

“Oh no I-, please don’t be..” he said waving his hands frantically, clearly nervous

“I had to run about 2 miles to get here..” you laughed trying to not tense up

Kazutora felt… stupid, why would you do that? Just to see him? It just made him even more confused...confused about how he felt towards you. 

“Just to see me? But..why?” he asked without thinking and just speaking, giving a regretful and embarrassed face after asking his question.

“Hm? Oh well it's simple really…” you said bringing your hands to rest in between your thighs on your seat 

“I know that I've told you that I don't like saying these words to people because it sounds like some sort of goodbye but it’s time I grow up from my past, and stop keeping things in..so…it’s because I love you... I thought that was fairly obvious but I don't wanna mess up like I did last time. I want you to know that I do love you and care for you.” you said giving him a closed eyed smile, this made Kazutora realize that you deeply regretted not telling Keisuke that you loved him more often when you two still had time. He felt his heart ache. He felt so guilty and gross.

“So, I’m gonna try and start saying that more often..” you said laughing to break the silence 

Kazutora was still speechless at what you had just said. He couldn’t seem to process it, and he wanted to say it back but for some reason he just couldn’t. He was afraid that something else might slip out. He truly didn't think he was worthy of your love and care. It became quiet. Again.

“I made you a bento box with your favorite things, I made sure to put some extra meat. Cause you always used to ask for that when I would make bentos for study days with you and Keisuke. And don’t worry! It’s allowed and you can have the kitchen hold it for you till you’re ready to eat it for today's dinner, the guards said so. And the container is microwave safe! So you can warm up the entree section. There’s rice and BBQ meat, little octopus shaped sausages and sauce with it! Oh and a salad with sesame dressing on the side, and desert which is just mochi. Every Friday I'll come by, and give you the new bento and you'll just give me back the old one, so that I can wash it and so we don't have to waste stuff.” you said smiling 

Your hand dung into your bag, and you pulled out a wooden bento box sliding it halfway through the subsection, but Kazutora hung his head low. You smiled, trying your best to make things right, as silence grew loud again. 

“I can also bring some mangas for you, I know you like shounen and also horror.. So I can buy some and give them to you so that you aren't bored! This week's shonen jump is good… It’s about a boy who is trying to save his mom, and ends up traveling across lands, with close friends, to get this special potion that will heal her, but I’ll make sure to look for some good horror manga too...I know you like stuff about folk tales, that sound okay?”  

Silence.

After a few minutes you spoke again.

“I decided to let my hair grow out cause I kinda miss having longer hair…There's this really pretty girl in my class who has long blonde hair.. Like Emma’s but longer and more wavy.. What about you? Anything you wanna do to your hair when you get out? I’ll take you to get it done-” 

Silence. 

The time now at 4:40. Kazutora bit his lip out of frustration, refusing to look up at you. 

“Oh! What about I bring over a sudoku book, so you can work on your academics as well! I can teach you how to play, it’s fun once you get the hang of it. Or I can bring just a simple literature book, it’s really up to you, I think both are great.” 

Silence. 

“Maybe markers so you can draw on yourself when you’re bored? I remember you doing that while I would tutor you and Keisuke. I can get big and small ones, and ones with different colors too. Also a sketch book, since you’re really good at drawing.” 

You were met with silence again. You felt your heart ache. Your eyes looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:47. You both were running out of time. About half an hour went by of your speaking, you giving a couple minutes in between waiting for him to speak back, but nothing. You clenched your hands into fists, biting your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands, resting on your thighs. 

You felt a strong feeling in your throat, the feeling you get when you’re about to sob. You were so frustrated, and you were trying to keep a level head. It was hard and you just wanted to fucking cry. 

“I- '' you said before closing your mouth realizing you were about to let out a whine. You didn't wanna cry, you wanted to say something but you were afraid that if you did, it would just come out as a sob.  

“I know it’s hard on you-” you said holding back your sobs while still looking down at your hands, letting your hairs cover your face 

“If you don’t want me here, I promise- that I’m fine with that...but~” you said in between pauses keeping your sobs in, but your last word came out shaky making Kazutora shoot his head to see you about to cry. 

He felt his heart ache once again. 

 “But please….jus-just say something. Anything. At least acknowledge that I'm here.” you cried quietly while tensing up your shoulders 

Kazutora frowned. This was his punishment. Seeing you cry, and not being able to hold and comfort you like he desperately wanted to. He opened his mouth, but closed it soon after when nothing came out. Not even a squeak, or whine, or breath. 

“I-”

You heard him say. You looked up with tears in your eyes seeing his face of desperation. 

Kazutora wanted to speak so badly, there were so many thoughts in his head he just could not push one out of his mouth, and he was afraid he might say something he would regret. He wanted to respond to everything you asked him, add commentary, tell you that you looked pretty today, say thank you for the food you made him. Tell you to not waste your tears on someone like him. Say sorry for making you feel uncomfortable because of his silence. God he just- 

“I love you-” he choked up and said in a louder tone causing your eyes to widen and mouth to part from shock at his sudden outburst.

He was avoiding your eyes as he spoke. 

“I- thank you, thank you so much for the food! Really! And I would really love whatever and everything you bring me.” he said, quieting down towards the end.  

“I...can’t put my thoughts into words… and I don’t wanna say something I’d regret. All this time I’ve just been lost in my own mind. I just want you to know that..that I really am in- that I really appreciate you. I want you..to be here, and I’m so...sorry for making you cry.” he said in between pauses of frustration and embarrassment 

You felt your body get warm, your heart beat was strong and you could feel it in your finger tips and temples. You opened your mouth to say something before Kazutora spoke again. 

“I..wanted to.. Wanted to help you...in just some way...after seeing you cry for the first time...with Baji in your arms….I shouldn't have stabbed Baji...I took the person you loved more than anything...away from you.. Because I was j- because I was so stupid, and still am. Even when you’ve done...so fucking much for me...I- and I took him from you...I just don’t get it… how can you have any empathy towards me anymore.. It doesn't make sense. I took so much from you… I killed Shinchiro, and I killed Baji. You loved them both...Mikey loved them both, why do..why do you even have any feeling towards me?” he said looking into your eyes with tears   

Your eyes softened at him. You took a small breath before saying-

“I thought I already told you why, Kazutora. I love you.” 

Kazutora felt a tear run down his cheek. He knew how much thought came behind those simple words. 

“I don’t need a reason to love you. Just like I don't need a reason to be hungry. It’s just there, and will continue to be there, you know what I mean? Same thing with everyone I love.” you said 

His breath hitched. The time now at 4:52.

“The only difference is I was in love with Keisuke. I still am in love with him. Even though he’s not here anymore. I know you might think I love him and Shinchiro and Mikey because they saved my life and helped me. But I was only so little. I had no concept of it. So was Keisuke. So was Mikey. Keisuke had no reason to come up to little me while I was starving on the ground practically dying. He just did it. He was too young to understand love. You think he understood his feelings for me the second he saw me? Or even with Mikey or Shinchiro. Of course not. They were just focussed on saving my life at the time. We discovered the love that was involved later. Even if it was too late to say anything about it. It took Kei and I about...hmmm..5-7 years maybe...to understand what we felt toward each other specifically. It is different with everyone. The love is just there, it’ll just be understood when the time is right. Like when your hunger just hits you. So when you ask me why I love you, or care for you, or forgive you. I just can’t give you a simple answer, even if I wanted to….because there's so much. Too much.” 

Kazutora understood your words. He really did. It made so much sense to him and he just wanted to scream.

Why? Well.. 

“The time will come where you believe that you're worthy of someone else's love and even your own, and even worth loving someone else yourself. So don’t worry. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Even if it takes all the time in the world, okay?” you said smiling at him leaving him with shocked eyes

“Alright times up! 5 o'clock!” yelled a guard 

“Well, I'll see you next Friday, okay? I’ll bring over some manga, oh! And don't forget the bento!” you said getting up from your seat as Kazutora did the same keeping his hands on the table as the guard came to cuff them 

“Y/n I-I’m…”

No. He can’t say it. He can never ever say it. Why? And say what? 

Because he will never be him. He can never be like him for you, and he was perfect for you. He was the one there for you. He had the time to love you. He was the one. He could never even compete. Not after what he did. Not after the jealousy and envy grew and brewed inside him towards him. He is filthy. Not worthy of your love. Right? 

But someday, he desperately and genuinely wants to allow himself to be loved, and to love. Kazutora will forever be longing for that moment. And when he can love, and allow himself to be loved, he wants it to be with you. 

But till that time comes..

“I’ll...really be looking forward to it.” he said biting back his words and smiling softly 

“Likewise.” you said smiling as you both parted your ways, at least for the time being. 

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

Explanation/note: when i wrote this, i made y/n be a ‘foster’ siblings with Draken and childhood friends with Mikey and Keisuke. << Reason being is because i gave her a backstory where she was neglected and ran away, hence her having a more naturing personality. Y/n and Keisuke were a couple till he died but Kazutora always loved Y/n so it’s a love triangle in a way? I don’t know, but Kazutora grew envious of Keisuke in this ff which ended up being a motive to stabbing him during the fight, to which he later regrets and gets punishment for. Y/n in the story doesn’t know that so that’s why Kazutora can’t accept her love for real because he doesn't know if Y/n will really forgive him after that, and Kazutora won’t be able to learn/accept love till he admits what he did. Holding in that secret, and being in love with Y/n makes him feel frustrated and act out. And obviously time is the theme of this whole story. Kazutora at the end decided to avoid his feelings because the way things are going right now fro the time being for him are fine because he doesn't believe he deserves anything more.  But that can only last for so long, so he’s gambling with his relationship with you. He thinks of it as his punishment for now, not being able to tell you how he really feels, and not being able to comfort you.

ANYWAYS hope you liked it, sorry if it’s confusing. 

[luimagines]

Coul I request the chain reacting to meeting the reader who is Wild's sibling? (If background is needed shrieks science and them whatever purchase did so the reader is just sorta- 15-28 )

Masterlist

I don't understand the second sentence but I think I can infer what you're trying to say. And even then, I came up with a backstory that more less fixes it regardless so yay!

Wild is everyone's favorite chaotic creative sibling!

And I went for older sibling because reasons and just assume that sibling! Reader is in their early twenties.

Content under the cut!

You woke up one day in Hateno village, quietly aware of the silence that echoed through your house.

You miss your brother.

Not that he was here often with his Goddess given assignment nor did he even know who you were for the first half of it.

What a day that was.

Your little brother back from the dead, scars and all and then some... but he had no idea who you were.

It hurt to say the least. But you were told it would happen once the news reached you. He would wake up one day to finish his duty but he would not remember anything regarding his past life.

Even when he found you again, after he somehow remembered you, you didn’t know where to begin.

You just knew that you were so happy to be together again after so long that you hugged him as tight as you could and told him that your door was always open.

To say you both cried is the understatement of the century. It was wet and ugly and messy and neither of you really talk about it but it felt good that day.

And while you both knew he couldn’t stay for long with his adventure being no where near complete. He did come home for the night after he set that travel medallion of his by the front door.

But that was then- before the Calamity was defeated.

Now that it’s gone- so is your brother. Again.

On a different quest this time, it seems.

You don’t understand why your baby brother of all people has to be the one to do it and you would like nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and shield him from anything else that comes to hurt him- but he never let you do that as a child- let alone now.

You begin the day like any other and try to get as many mundane chores done as you can before you finally try and get the stable in the back fixed up.

You noticed Link had an affinity to horses and had checked in with the nearest stable to see that he had some lodged under his name.

There’s a place at the house, darn it. Lodge them here. It just needs to be fixed.

With your goal in mind, you lose yourself to the work and the time passes effortlessly.

It’s around noon by the time you hear it.

The familiar sound of activation that gets your heart pounding in relief and unbridled joy.

You drop your hammer and run to the front of the house with the largest grin on your face. “You’re back, you Rug Rat! Come here!”

You single him out instantly amongst the group and tackle him in a hug.

He’s long stopped trying to fight on you on this and has also returned your crushing hug with one of his own. “I’m back.”

“You brought friends too.” You grin and give the group a two fingered salute. “And here I was afraid that this loner child would end up dead in a ditch somewhere and I would be none the wiser. Thank you for looking after my little brother. I’m aware he’s a handful.”

“Ok thanks.” He says.

“Little brother?” Someone from the group asks. They’re lost amongst the sea of head but you nod regardless.

“Yup. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday.” You grin and put your hands on your hips, introducing yourself right after. “Any friend of Link’s is a friend of the family. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home. It’s not much but it’s ours. Been in the family since before the calamity struck. Let me wash up a bit and then we can get some food going, yeah?”

“I’ll start up the stove.” Link says and you’re about to disagree. After all, he just got home and should rest while he can but he ahs the most unburdened smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

 “Alright.” You sigh and head to the back where the shower is. It’s always been small and a bit cramped and the door stopped fitting correctly about ten years ago but now that’s it’s not just you anymore, you can go around into the giving the house the TLC it deserves.

But you’re starting with the stable in the back.

When you’re finished and you’ve dried yourself off, you get into the house to find it in a delightful array of colors and chaos.

Each of the boys seemed to have made themselves completely at home in the time you were gone and you leaned against the door frame, watching them all interreact.

Your brother didn’t waste any time with getting the stove up and running. You can smell the beginning of lunch getting cooked and it appears that Link has wrangled two of the boys to be his helpers. One appears to be the youngest with bright wide eyes and a similar blue tunic to that of Links and the other looks to be  slightly more timid in the process. He’s around the same height as Link but darker hair and a long white cape still clasped around his shoulders. 

You recognize the Master Sword strapped to his back.

Making a note of that you look around the room again. Three of them have made themselves comfortable at the table. One is easily the biggest guy of the group, red and blue tattoos on his face and scar over his eye as he watches the others go about the admittedly small house. The other two look to be the same size and you’re sure you can look them in the eye if you needed to. They’re talking to both each other and the group that’s cooking. One has a wolf pelt on his shoulder with more tattoos on his face and other is a knight if you’ve ever seen one with a bright blue scarf around his neck.

You’re not one to judge your brother’s friends but you make a mental note to watch him in case he tries anything.

Two of the boys- one with pink hair and the other have the most solid brown mane of the whole group have made themselves spares and are talking quietly to each other and not making a fuss.

The final one looks to be the smallest but he’s got an older glint to his eye that recognize well. He’s wearing arguably the most color tunic of the group with those four patches sewn together. He’s tucked himself away into a corner with a book out, not interacting with either of them outright but he has been looking up and adding his two cents to the older’s conversation at the table.

They don’t notice you’re back which is a testament to how tired they all must be.

They’re an interesting bunch.

But Link did always surround himself with interesting people.

So you’re not really surprised.

“Sooo...” Pinky starts off, calling your bother’s attention. “You have an older sibling?”

“Yup!” He answers, not looking up from the pot. “They were waiting for me the whole time, and even manage to keep the house. Up keep still needs to be done but we’ve been working on it together.”

“But they’re older.”

“Yes. We’ve established this.”

You have to hold back your snort.

“You were asleep for one hundred years.” Four Patches speaks up, closing his book silently. ”Shouldn’t they... ummm...”

“Be dead?”

“Or at least really old?” Mr. Brunette hops in, trying to lessen the blow of the sentence.

“You’re like one hundred and seven teen right? Wouldn’t that put them at being one hundred and twenty something?” Wolf boy offers.

“I guess so. Yeah. They were old at some point.” Link stops stirring and you can see him try to run the numbers in his head. “I know that much. The village talks about them being really old sometimes, but I guess that was years ago because it’s only from the older folk that live here.”

“But they lived through those one hundred years, didn’t they?” Blue Baby Face speaks this time.

“That’s what they told me.”

“So....” The knight tilts his head and tries to put his hands out as if that would help answer the question. “They’re like the Old Man then? Old in their head but young on the outside.”

“You can say that, yeah.” You say and take extreme satisfaction at the way most of the jump at your voice. “Unlike Link, I was alive the whole time he was asleep. I’ve got grandkids in Lurelin and they visit from time to time but someone had to at least keep the house up and running, might as well have been me.”

“I...” Link starts as he takes the food off the burner. “I never asked you how you stayed young, did I?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He looks away and deflates a little. Link looks a little disappointed with himself and that won’t stand in this house.

“I didn’t realize it was that important. And I’m going to assume you’ve explained most of the situation Rug Rat.” You laugh a little with a raised eyebrow. “You can blame Purah. You know she wanted to find a way to keep the old from aging, right? It’s why she’s in the body of a little kid again. But when she tried the second formula she realized that if she tried it on herself that it might as well but poof her back into a baby and she wanted to contact Robbie but he’s too far and too old to make that trip. I volunteered.”

“Really?”

“It still didn’t really work, I was transformed into a teenager instead of a child- a horrible time to exist really. But I suppose it was a blessing in disguise. By the time this one-” You step into the house fully and ruffle Link’s hair. “-came back, it left us with the same age gap as before. So in the end I can’t complain.”

“Why’d you volunteer?” Cape guy leans on the wall. “There’s only so many times you can test it, right? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse?”

“Yeah, what if it did transform you into a baby again and you forgot everything?” Four Patches stands up and comes to stand by the table, putting his book on top of it. 

“I wanted to take the risk.” you shrug and pull your brother into a hug. “Is it a crime to want to see my baby brother again not matter the cost?”

“Get off.” He whines.

You laugh but do as he asks. “It was never said when he’d be back. Only that he would. I was willing to buy as much time as needed to be there for him.”

“I didn’t remember you...” He mutters to himself.

“You now, don’t you?” You punch him gently. “We’ve talked about this. It’s ok. I knew it was going to happen. It wasn’t going to stop me. Ganon himself couldn’t properly get rid of me. I’m not leaving your side anytime soon.”

He smiles and turns to hug you.

“Now where’s your wolf friend?” You ask. “Are you still traveling together? There’s something I wanted to give him.”

Wolf Pelt shimmies in his seat for a second but you don’t think much of it.

Link shakes his head. “Not right now but he has been coming by every now and then.”

“Well it’s good he’s still around to look after you then in my stead.”

“We have a horse though.” Link tilts his head up to grin at you. “It’s not the same but her name is Epona.”

Familiarity stabs you in the heart and you know it’s something that Link even remember even if he lives another one hundred years.

He was too little when she passed.

“...Like dad’s old horse. Can I see her?” You say with a light constriction in your throat. “How crazy would it be if they looked alike?”

“Dad had a horse?”

“You wouldn’t remember her, you were too little. I barely remember her as it is but yes, he did.” You take a step back and motion back towards the door. “Maybe after lunch you show me. We can bring her to the back and measure up how the stable is. I’ve been fixing it up.”

“Really!?” Link blinks, an excited glint appearing in his eyes.

“Yes. That’s what I was doing when you first came in. But let’s eat first.” You put your hand to the small of his back and push him gently in the direction of the table. “And then you can tell me about your friends and this new adventure of yours.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Warmth (Adrenaline Junkie Part 6)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Self harm scars, mentions of panic attacks and hallucinations

Word count: 2,842

(A/N): This takes place about 6 months after the last chapter. Also, I was heavily inspired by Toothless’ prosthetic, I’m really excited to write more about it : )

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the cobblestone street of the village. The village was probably one of your favorite places to visit; it had quaint little shops and stalls decorating the main plaza that you adored, it was always interesting to see what’s being sold today. Though you always wore your cloak to cover your wings (well, wing and a now-feathered nub) whenever you visited to avoid the stares, you still regularly visited the main plaza for the shops. 

The first time you visited after the incident was about a month ago with Wilbur, you two were looking for something to cook for dinner. You were trying to get used to having your wings out again, so you were wearing the jacket with the slits in the back that you always used to wear. 

The feeling of people staring holes into you was a feeling you forgot about. You always got stares whenever you went into the village because of your wings, but now it felt like more and more people were staring at you as you passed them, probably because of your nub. Though some looked at you in pity, most looked at you with disgust.

You could hear children asking their mothers what happened to you. Their mothers would take one look at you and shield their children away from you staring at you with disgust. You even made one kid cry when he saw your wing; you didn’t blame him, you still couldn’t look at your nub without tearing up. An hour hasn’t even passed before you were asked by a police officer to leave because you were causing a disruption and being indecent in public.

Wilbur was pissed. “They’re fully clothed and they didn’t even talk to anybody, so how exactly were they being disruptive or indecent?”

The officer firmly held her ground, looking up to Wilbur’s tall form. “Sir, the people are complaining and it’s my job to make the public feel safe and comfortable. Look,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to have to ask them to leave, they’re not doing anything to directly threaten people. However, they are causing a disturbance with their,” she wrinkled her nose, “their thing, so I’m going to have to ask them to leave.”

“You have absolutely no right to tell them to leave. They-”

“Wilbur, it’s fine. I’ll leave,” turning back to the officer, you calmly stated “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

She curtly nodded and stood watching you, probably making sure that you left the main plaza. Before you could turn to leave, Wilbur stopped you.

“(Y/n)-”

“No, Wilbur. It’s alright, I can wait outside the village for you.”

He sighed, looking through his leather satchel. “No, you won’t have to wait for me. We’ve got enough food for dinner anyways,” shooting one last heated glare at the police officer, he reached down to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

He drug you quickly through the village with you having a little trouble keeping up with his long strides. Once you were out of the village, he slowed his pace and walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“(Y/n), I’m sor-”

“Don’t be Wil. It isn’t your fault. I honestly was expecting to get kicked out earlier.”

“Still, it’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask for this.” 

“I know Wil, I’ll just wear my cloak next time I visit.”

He didn’t say anything to you after that. The rest of the walk home was shrouded in an awkward silence. 

Another part of the village you loved was the library. It had tall shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of books and various cushioned furniture littered randomly amongst the maze of shelves. Whoever would walk into the library would immediately be hit by the strong scent of parchment and wood as soon as they would walk through the twin doors. You would usually browse books about redstone, but you had a different agenda today.

Today, you were looking for a book about leather working. You wanted to make a leather prosthetic wing so you could at least glide through the air. You weren’t sure if it would work though. From what you’ve read, nobody’s attempted to make a prosthetic wing. It made sense, being a hybrid was rare in and of itself, let alone a winged hybrid. 

You missed flying more than anything. You would give anything to be able to be in the air again. You felt jittery and restless without flight. Sure, Philza took you on some flights with him every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. You yearned for the independence and liberation it gave you to fly alone.

After you found a book and checked it out with the librarian, you hastily set out for home. You were walking with a giddy smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Several people gave you strange looks as you passed them, but you were in too good of a mood to care. You finally figured out a way you could possibly fly again. 

When you got home, you headed straight to your workshop to get to work on your prosthetic. Several blueprints were hung up around your desk, some for your TNT launcher (which you finished a few weeks ago) and others contained ideas for an automatic farm. Your pride and joy was hung up in the center of your bulletin board. It made you extremely happy just by looking at the prosthetic sketch.

Your redstone lamp illuminated the space in front of you as you focused on cutting a large strip of leather in front of you with great concentration. You needed to get the measurements exactly right, equal sized wings are integral for stability midair. The prosthetic was going to be about the same size as your left wing with thin iron rods giving the wing structure. You planned on making it identical to a bat’s wing with a few minor changes in shape to match your other wing. Once it actually was structurally sound and working, you would add proper joints so you could wear it around and decorate it. Until then, you’re making adjustments.

When you were done, you moved on to crafting and melding together the iron rods. Putting on your goggles and thick leather gloves, you used a bit of lava your family kept stored in another room in the basement to fuse the thin iron rods together. You carefully dipped one end of two rods into the bucket before pulling it out at a certain time to hold the molten ends together until they cooled. You repeated this process until you were melding the last piece on.

“HEY BITCH, DINNER’S READY. GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!”

Yelping, you dropped the mold onto your desk. You picked it up in a panic without paying attention to where your arms went. Unknowingly, your sleeved arm was pressing up against the scorching iron of the bucket of lava.

“FUCK YOU YA FILTHY GREMLIN, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD’VE BEEN NICE!”

He started cackling. “FUCK YOU TOO! NOW GET UP HERE BEFORE I EAT YOUR DINNER.”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. I SWEAR TO- FUCK!”

You felt the nerves on the side of your forearm screaming as you yanked it away, leaving the crisp remains of a part of your sleeve stuck to the iron bucket. Two pairs of footsteps boomed down the steps and got louder as they rapidly approached you. 

Wilbur’s deep voice worriedly called out to you. “Shit, (y/n) are you alright? Let me see.”

Before you could protest, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled the sleeve of your jacket down. Adjoining the light burn, small horizontal scars and some fresh cuts lined your forearms. Shit, they were never supposed to find out.

Wilbur’s hand froze, gripping your wrist with an iron grip. You hissed at the feeling of some of your cuts reopening, causing him to quickly retract his hand. He now had his hands hovering over your arm unsure of what to do with them.

“(Y/n), wha-” Tommy cut himself off once he saw the panicked look on his older brother’s face. Following his gaze, his wide eyes met with your cuts.

You sighed, prying the goggles off from your face and pulling the gloves off from your hands. You put on a calm exterior, contrary to what you felt on the inside. They were never supposed to know. “Listen, you guys weren’t supposed to find out about this. None of you were. Please don’t tell Dad or Technoblade, I don’t need more people knowing.”

Tommy spoke up with an incredulous look. “(Y/n), what do you mean? We can’t just not tell them.”

“I know. Please, do it for me? Everything’s finally going back to normal and this will just make everything worse again. I promise I’ll stop, I swear.”

The two brothers looked at each other silently contemplating what they should do. On one hand, you were their sibling and you were hurting yourself. They needed to tell their dad that you were cutting. You only had two lives left and you could kill yourself doing that. Philza and Techno could help. On the other hand, they wanted you to feel normal in your own home. You were right in the fact that everything was starting to feel like it did before the incident. Plus, they would gladly help you through it.

They looked back at you with apprehensive expressions, speaking at the same time. 

“(Y/n), we’re not gonna tell Dad or Techno.”

“We’re telling them.”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at his brother angrily. “Wilbur, we need to tell them.”

“Tommy, no-”

“Are you fucking stupid? Of course we have to-”

“Tommy. We don’t because I’ll be taking every sharp object away from them tonight. We’ll watch them and check their wrists to make sure that there’s no new cuts and they stay clean. We’ll help them.”

“But- they,” Tommy gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But we at least have to tell Techno about this. He can help us.”

Wilbur glanced at you with apologetic eyes. Before he could speak up, you interrupted him. “...Alright, as long as Dad doesn’t find out. He has enough to stress out about and he doesn’t need to worry about me again. Now, can we go upstairs for dinner? We’ve been down here for long enough already and Dad’s probably wondering why. Tell him that I’m gonna go clean up.”

Without giving them any room to argue, you speeded up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door and leaning your back on it, you let your calm facade drop into a panicked one. Shit, what if Tommy tells Dad? What were you supposed to do then? He’ll take away what little freedom you had left and you’ll be sinking into the depths of your depression again. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and Philza’s voice. You held your breath as you prepared yourself for him to tell you that he knows your secret. “Hey hun, Wilbur and Tommy told me that you burned yourself,” you let out a relieved sigh. “Do you need me to look at it?”

Panic once again flared in your bloodstream. “N-no Dad, it’s just a little burn. I’ll be down in just a second I’m changing.”

“You sure? I can get you a potion.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“...Alright,” he sounded skeptical. “Just hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps sounded like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths before you moved to put on a long sleeved shirt. 

Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet without Tommy, you, or Wilbur talking. Philza tried to carry the conversation with you four, but only Technoblade gave full responses. You, Tommy, and Wilbur only supplied a few words to a conversation when prompted. 

Technoblade was suspicious. Sure, you and Wilbur were quiet sometimes, but Tommy? Tommy’s always loud and rambunctious. Something’s wrong, but what? What could’ve happened when Tommy and Wilbur went to go get you for dinner? They weren’t gone for long. He did hear you screaming profanities at Tommy for scaring you and overheard Tommy telling Philza about how you burned yourself, but how is that something that would shut you three up? He was going to confront his siblings after he finished tonight’s dishes. 

Meanwhile, you, Tommy, and Wilbur were in your room. You were giving them your iron dagger.

“Is this all?”

“Yeah, Tommy. That’s all, search my room if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t mind, I don’t have anything to hide from you anymore.”

They did just that. Looking under your bed, in your drawers, in your closet, and in the chest you kept for your supplies. You watched them propped up on your bed. While you were angry with yourself that you were so careless, you felt warm that they cared about you. They were great brothers.

After they were done turning your room upside down, Wilbur plopped down next to you and Tommy threw himself over your legs. You three laid there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to spend some time with your brothers, you didn’t get much free time to spend with them because you spent most of your time in your workshop.

The silence was broken by Tommy. “...So, how do you wanna go about telling Technoblade?”

“I’m… not exactly sure. Do we even have to tell him?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “Even if you didn’t want to, I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up. He’s good at picking up on social cues.”

“Well if that’s the case, I might just wait until he comes to me. It’ll be easier.”

Your door swung open to reveal your piglin hybrid brother. He looked at you with a single eyebrow raised as his ear flicked. “What were you planning on telling me?”

Tommy and Wilbur looked at you expectantly. You shifted your body closer to the wall making room on your bed for him. He walked over and stiffly sat on the edge of your mattress. He gestured for you to talk to him. You slowly slid your sleeve down and showed him your arm. Besides his eyebrows slightly crinkling, he was as stoic as ever when he reached out to grab your wrist for a better look.

On the inside, the voices were almost as loud as when you died. They were nearly incoherent as several angry voices mixed together yelling at him for not noticing anything was wrong with you, the kid he vowed to protect when you first stole his crown and replaced it with a homemade paper one. Outside of the voices, he was furious at himself, he was supposed to protect you. He ran his fingers along the raised lines, gently tracing over every scar and scabbed over cut as if memorizing where every single one lays.

His monotone voice was gruff. “How long? Why?”

“About eight months now. I-I didn’t feel anything for a while after I respawned and I realized that pain helped me feel. It helped ground me when I hallucinated or had panic attacks.”

“...Do you feel anything now?”

“Yeah, I’m getting better Tech. I’m hallucinating less and I’m getting better at managing anxiety attacks. At this point, it's just a habit that I can’t drop.” 

“Do you want to drop it?”

You fell silent. You never really considered stopping before. Before, you would do it to give yourself something to focus on when you were overwhelmed, but now you would do it out of habit. It somehow felt wrong when you skipped a session and it usually threw your entire day off. You would feel drained for the entire day if you didn’t do it. It was one of the only consistent things in your life.

“(Y/n), c’mon you don’t want to keep doing this, right?” Tommy asked before Wilbur reached over and slapped him upside his head. 

“I think,” you breathed out, unsure of yourself, “I want to get better.”

Techno looked at his brothers. “Did you two take their blades?”

Tommy held up the iron dagger and wove it around haphazardly in the air. Techno reached over and pocketed the dagger before discarding his golden crown and placing it on your nightstand. He took off his weighted fluffy cloak and neatly draped it over a nearby chest. He maneuvered his body so that he was laying on your other side and wrapped a lazy arm over your chest. 

With Wilbur on your right side with your wing draped over him, Tommy laying on your stomach with Wilbur reaching down to hold him, and Techno pulling you close to his body, you were pleasantly warm. You were slowly drifting off, being lulled to sleep by Techno’s slow heartbeat. You blissfully fell asleep surrounded by your brothers’ love.

Inspo for the cuddle pile (credit goes to og artist, zillychu): https://zillychu.home.blog/tag/heart-squad-cuddle-pile/

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @starchildnatalya  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 15- Final Chapter]

Geralt of Rivia x fem! reader

A/N- This is officially the end of my book, and I want to thank you all for sparing the time to read it. Thank you! 🤍

Warnings: fluff and soft Geralt

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

Geralt grumbled under his breath, yet his movements were quiet; stealthy like a cat as he didn't want to wake you. You were almost due to give birth, and Geralt didn't want to disturb your sleep, because you hardly got any. Although it was strangely pleasing to him to watch you try to pacify your baby, sometimes stroking your bump, or sometimes singing to it, and he didn't want to admit he secretly loved it, he was happy the baby was calm today, and you were peacefully asleep.

He entered your shared bedroom back in your home in Redania where he now mostly spent his time, when he was not out hunting monsters, that was. His armour was soiled with gore, fragments of the kikimora's intestines, and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself into a bath, and relax but he didn't want to wake you up.

The size of the body the man had, silence was the least dominant trait that he had. As he took off his armour, the armour fell from his hand, crashing against the floor with the clatter that woke you up instantly.

"Fuck, who's there?" You almost sat up in bed, grabbing a nearby empty pitcher of water in your grip, ready to throw it at whoever it was, your mind slightly disoriented as you had been asleep.

"It's just me," Geralt grumbled, frowning at how clumsy he was, immediately bending and picking up his armour. Finally, your eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, and when you saw him, you slowly slid out of the bed and waddled towards him.

"What have you done to yourself, my love? You look like a piss pot."

"Hm, blame the kikimora," Geralt grumbled, under his breath, and you ended up chuckling as he tried to shoo you back into bed, waving his hands.

"Didn't mean to wake you, go to bed, [Y/N]."

"It's okay, Geralt. Let me draw your bath," You motioned to him to take off his dirty clothes while you decided to warm some water so he could take a bath.

Geralt didn't let you carry the pails of water yourself, of course and neither could you. In fact, it was difficult for you to climb the stairs owing to the fact that your bump was blocking your view of your feet.

You watched as he slid into the warm water, his body immediately relaxing as the soothing touch of the heat hit his sore body.

"I can't wait to give birth, Geralt," you mumbled as you sat against the edge of the bed, rubbing a paste that you had created over your swollen ankles, as much as you could bend, while Geralt relaxed in the bathtub, his eyes flicking occasionally towards you and a small smile graced his lips at the sight of you.

When Geralt didn't reply, you lifted your gaze, fixing it on him, noticing how he was staring at you. His lips were curved— so minutely, that only you and Jaskier could understand now, little details about him, like when he was amused, or in a jestful mood. You stood up, letting the vessel down on the bed, and walked up to fix yourself behind your Witcher's back, your hands coming to rest against the base of his neck as you began scrubbing him. Geralt of Rivia's company had taught to treat silence as bliss.

"What was that?" You frowned as you looked up at the wooden door of your bedroom. You had been sitting against the headboard of your bed, while Geralt was laying on your lap, almost having dozed off; your fingers gently stroking through his locks, lulling him into an even deeper sleep.

The words had barely escaped your lips, and Geralt was up, rigid and alert, like a wolf. He jumped, in one movement, standing by your bed, his hand drawn towards you, his palm raised, motioning you to stay still as he grabbed his sword with the other hand.

"Jaskier? Is that you?" Geralt snarled, but the pounding outside your door didn't stop, and instead it worsened, the loud noise now giving you a headache, forcing you to press your hands against your ears.

Just as Geralt darted towards the door, ready to pull it open and see for himself as to exactly who this intruder was when suddenly, the door flung open, and a Cintran guard tossed Jaskier in, who fell on his knees where Geralt was.

"Geralt! Say something, I am being tossed about like a worthless sack of grain!" Jaskier dramatized, and you hurriedly slid against the edge of the bed while Geralt drew his sword towards the Cintran guard.

The guard turned, regarding you through the armoured helmet that covered his face partially, and then nodded to himself before his voice rang out, "My Queen, the Princess is here, as expected."

"Touch her, I'll break your fucking bones," Geralt growled, his grip on his sword tightening when suddenly, "Lower your weapons! I'm here to talk," a familiar voice commanded, and you knew who it was. You pressed your lips together in a slight anger, both your hands coming to rest protectively against your swollen belly.

Calanthe entered, her eyes falling first thing on the Witcher and her frown widened, before she turned towards you, "Knew I'd find you here."

You bit your lip, eyeing her carefully, when Geralt began speaking, and her head shot towards him.

"If you're here to drag her to that King who fucked his own sister, then it's too late."

You nodded at Geralt's words, immediately rushing to Geralt's side, stepping behind him, grabbing on to his hand that wasn't holding the sword, your fingers entwining with his, "Yes, mother. My baby will not be a bastard anymore. We're married now."

"I'm not here to ask you to marry Foltest, I'm here to—" she stopped talking, throwing out her hands towards you, trying to nudge you to go to her but you stayed by Geralt's side, "I'm here to take you home. Your Kingdom needs you. I need you. If the Witcher is who you desire then, I give my blessings."

"What?" You and Jaskier said almost together, and you almost choked on a gasp.

"All my life, I thought you were dead and then I found you only to lose you again. Come home, I can't rule a Kingdom anymore, I need you to sit on that throne."

The shock of it all was hard to process. You gasped, tightening your grip on Geralt's hand and he turned towards you with a frown, "You okay?"

"A throne? This is too much."

"You were born for this, [Y/N]." Calanthe continued.

Suddenly, your mind began zoning out the voices, and the voices of Geralt, Calanthe and Jaskier were just background noises to you. You felt something wet slide down the inside of your legs, and your eyes widened. Your breathing laboured suddenly as a sudden cramp tore through your stomach, all too suddenly, and you whelp escaped your lips, causing Geralt to turn towards you.

"I don't think.. I can think of any throne right now.. mother.. I think the baby is coming."

That was, perhaps, the fastest journey Geralt had made, to the village to get the midwife, while Calanthe stayed with you.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Calanthe wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand and you growled at her, "Then what exactly am I doing mother? You are not helping!! I would rather have you switch places with Jask'."

"Leave me out of this. I have a history of fainting at the sight of a lot of blood," Jaskier called out from outside the room, and you groaned in pain, and part annoyance, now aware that he was lurking right outside your door.

You screamed as another contraction tore through your body, the midwife having finally arrived as Calanthe switched positions with her and you felt her squat down by your lower region. You tried breathing, preparing yourself for another crippling contraction, spreading your legs and arching your back, as Calanthe tried to soothe you.

"Geralt, I fucking hate you for doing this to me! I hope you hear me!" You screamed in pain, even though you knew you would regret this later when you would have your baby pressed to your chest.

The sun set, and the sun rose again the next day; but your screaming didn't die. It was only when the sun was right above your home did the first cries of your girl finally fill your shack. Tears of joy flew freely through your eyes, and your mother's as she pressed the babe to her chest, looking down at her slightly golden eyes in awe.

"She's got Geralt's eyes," she whispered to you, as you let out a sob, and weakly threw out your hands so you would hold her in your arms. She was so tiny, and so perfect, her eyes like Geralt, a tuft of golden white locks already on top of her otherwise bald head.

"Mother, can you take her? I feel.. like all my energy is gone."

"Lay down and close your eyes, child. You've birthed a baby, and that isn't easy as the menfolk think it is. I have her," she took her from your arms, and you smiled weakly at the sight before you let your eyes shut.

You were in a dreamless slumber, your slumber so deep that even Jaskier playing the lute against your ears would not have been enough to wake you up.

After a long time, you stirred in your sleep, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

The sight in front of you, as you propped yourself up against your elbows, made your heart swell with love. Geralt sat on a chair, his eyes pressed shut, his chest rising up and down the only movement that you could see, holding your daughter close to his chest. The little babe looked tiny as compared to the Witcher's bulky frame, yet this was the softest sight you had ever seen. You slid to the edge of the bed, letting the bare pads of your feet brush against the cold floorboards as you pushed your still sore body up. Just then, Jaskier entered the room, his eyes lighting up as he saw you.

You smiled when you saw that he was holding the blanket that you had knitted for the baby when you had found out of the pregnancy.

"Here," he whispered in a low voice so he didn't wake the father and the daughter as he threw out his hand towards you. You only shook your head and pointed towards Geralt.

"Scared to put it on him?" You joked, your voice a whisper too.

"For the first time, I don't want to ruin the moment," he smiled, as he pulled you into a side hug and you almost sniffled dramatically, pouting, "Well, Jaskier. Aren't you in love?"

"Princess, I'm not ashamed to say I'm in love with her. She is the best thing that's happened to us."

"Oh, Jaskier—" You blurted out, a little too loud, and the Witcher grumbled slightly, stirring from his sleep as he fluttered his eyes open; the first thing his eyes falling on being the baby in his arms, and then up at you.

Geralt smiled and nodded, as you walked up to him, lowering yourself on his thigh, carefully placing your palm on top of her head.

"She's perfect, my love," Geralt whispered, and you nodded, wrapping your arm around his neck, letting your head rest against his.

It was the calm before the storm.

You stood by the massive window of your chambers, staring at the city ahead of you— Cintra.

Your Kingdom, your home, which you now ruled, with your Witcher by your side.

"What are you thinking, love?"

The familiar rasp of a voice made you turn towards him, a faint smile breaking out against your lips. Geralt was propped on his elbow, his naked chest glistening as a ray of sunshine fell directly on him, his lower body wrapped in the silkiest of the blankets.

"I have an ill feeling, Geralt."

"Come to bed, love. Let me make you feel better," Geralt smirked, as he patted on the empty side of your bed but before you could, a loud babble of a baby filled the room.

Both you and Geralt turned towards the door, watching your one year old taking baby steps towards the two of you.

"How the hell?" Geralt muttered, when Jaskier darted into the room; his hair unkempt, paint caked on his cheeks and his shirt. He grabbed Fiona in his arms, and swung her up and the little girl cackled in glee, making you grin.

"Sorry, I was just teaching her how to paint. She ran off with my brushes," he sheepishly grinned before his eyebrow shot up and he eyed Geralt, "Don't let my interference stop whatever the two of you were planning to do. Perhaps, planning a sibling for her."

Geralt grunted under his breath, while you ended up snorting to his comment, shaking your head, "That's not happening, Jaskier. I'm done with mages and their spells. Now run along, we've got things to do."

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @babypink224221 @jessyballet @strrynigxts @rn7rocks @theroyalbrownbarbie @amirra88 @naughty-koala07 @xuxszx @iminlovewithenchilidadas

[ura-writes]

Trampolinist

Summary - You’re a player who jumps from server to server, often revisiting several and always trying to find access to new ones. When a victorious game of duos Skywars on Hypixel wins you an invitation to one of the most famous yet exclusive servers in the community, you find a world you never knew existed, allies you’re not certain you can trust, and enemies that may not be just that. Oh, yeah, and an anarchist piglin hybrid.

(c!technoblade/server jumper!reader)

Basic warnings: minor blood, swearing, light threats

A/N - hello! I decided to start this series as a result of a sporadic idea at midnight after quite an odd dream. Some information you might need:

A few select people can jump servers without using portals, and you (the reader) are one of them.

Some servers are public and some require invites. Hypixel and a lot of the other bigger servers are public, while SMPs such as the Dream SMP are private and require an invite.

Jumpers, as they are commonly referred to throughout the series, still require an invite to private servers, though some have figured out loopholes to this process and actively exploit it, earning the title of “Crashers”. You have figured it out but don’t use the ability.

The rating for this series is 14-15+, most likely including minor to graphic descriptions of blood/injuries, violence, swearing, minor manipulation and death.

There are select groups of people who hate Jumpers and actively try to perma-kill them or get them source-banned from servers, leaving them stuck in single player and isolation.

From the author:

This will be in second person.

There will be no use of Y/N or (Y/N) or anything along those lines. I understand some people use them as a descriptor, but in my opinion, it looks a bit messy/choppy.

Feel free to criticize, though don’t be super harsh.

Also gl free to point out spelling mistakes.

I love love LOVE feedback! Gimme it! Please! /lh /gen

Anyway, those are the basics that you need to know! For now, at least… hehe.

Enjoy the first part!

-ura

——

The familiar particles signalling a personal portal opening in the lobby sends a few people scattering, but most just move to the side, though there are a fair few that stay to watch the person step out of the rip in reality.

The person stumbles out, cursing the deities to high heaven, brushing dirt and sweat and even a bug off of their face, certainly looking a bit worse for wear.

This was certainly not what the audience was expecting. They were expecting a prim, proper or at least somewhat distinguished person to step out of the actively sparking spiral, as most Jumpers are that way, even just a bit.

Nope.

“What are you looking at?”

The people step back a bit, noticing the sword the person clutches in their hand.

That person is you.

“Fuck off, would you? You probably see Jumpers on the daily! Fuckin’ annoying.” you grumble, sheathing the sword at your side. “Fuck… is this Hypixel?”

With a cursory sweep of the attire of the people surrounding you and buildings towering over everyone, you determine that yes, it is, in fact, Hypixel.

Of course, that may have also been the big-ass sign in the sky with the server’s name on it. That too.

With a sigh and a wave of your hand, you pull your inventory up. The typical “please place your personal belongings in a safe place before playing a match, otherwise they may be wiped.” message pops up when you do. You huff, wave your fingers to dismiss the text. Not like you’ve been here a hundred thousand times or anything like that.

The Netherite blade at your side, your armor and any sentimental belongings you have on you go straight into your enderchest, categorized in one of the shulker boxes designated specifically for this purpose.

As you walk along, trying to sort your inventory out (fortunately the server provides a free repair and replace to anyone’s clothing, as yours are beaten pretty much beyond self-help), deciding what match you might want to play, the crowd that was surrounding you quickly scurries off with a few screams.

A quick glance upwards catches your gaze on a red and white nametag.

Huh. Don’t see those often.

Whispers of the name you can’t quite see from where you stand rapidly reach your ears, ringing with slight familiarity.

Dream.

Odd. The masked man doesn’t often come onto public servers, mainly sticking to his own private server, named after him. The Dream SMP. How egotistical.

Without another glance towards the fan-people, you select a game idly. The blue text pops up in front of you, confirming your want to play the match.

Skywars Duos.

Before you know it, you’re whisked off to the arena, a bit dizzy from your landing, but fine nonetheless. The timer for the start slowly counts down, ticking slowly as people pop into existence with increasing frequency.

A presence behind you alerts you to your teammate. You nod at them just as the beeping of the final ten seconds counts down.

After a few repeated sessions, most being losses, you decide on one more match before you head to a tavern for the night, preferably one with a view.

This time you’re the second one to arrive. And for once, you take a longer look at your teammate.

He’s the guy everyone was freaking out about a few hours earlier… what was his name again? Dr-something. Or was it a Tr-something? Ah, who knows. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s good. You don’t bother to look at his nametag; he’s probably just some hotshot who thinks he’s all that.

“Not going to freak out?” he asks you. You snort at the question, shaking your head with a glance at the timer.

“Just here to kick ass.”

“Fair enough,” he replies. “You any good?”

A laugh from you echoes as the beeping of the countdown starts.

“We’ll see.”

The barrier below you drops, sending you hurtling to the floating island below. You quickly hit the ground, rolling into a crouch while your teammate raids the chest beside you, tossing a few bits of armor and a stone axe as well as a golden apple, which you catch and nod gratefully.

The hood on his head drops when another player attempts to take him out of the game. He ducks, barely avoiding the glimmer of the enchanted sword, sweeping her legs out from under her. The enemy player narrowly rolls out of the way with her shield being knocked out of her hands into the dark blue void below the floating island.

She curses loudly as his axe lands beside her head, kicking it to the side.

In that moment, you shove her hard off of the crumbling stone, jabbing your axe in her shoulder for final measure. Her falling figure flashes red with the loss of hearts, and eventually, she disintegrates into dust, the announcement of her tag being eliminated in the chat making you smirk.

“Well, you are good.”

You send him a smirk and collect the spoils of your kill, mostly a few potions and the iron blade, tossing a few of the former to your teammate and splashing a speed potion on yourself.

With practiced movements you begin to build to the middle islands, your teammate throwing the occasional snowball at any approaching enemy players, even knocking one off their bridge. The message of their death rings in the chat, being the fifth elimination.

The chests there contain better loot, even a diamond sword and chestplate, a strength II potion and a Power I bow with fifteen arrows. You take the bow and chestplate (with permission from your teammate, who gladly takes the sword and potion) and book it to the center chests, almost laughing at the amount of snowballs and arrows lying there.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” you muse.

You hear a yell of your tag, quickly spinning around to block the swing of an enchanted axe, their teammate quickly turning to gang up on you after finishing off another person.

Great. You’re fighting two people now.

Swing, duck, dodge, swipe, duck, swipe, block—shit, you got stabbed! Two hearts disappear from your health bar, sending a flurry of curses flying from your lips.

But luckily, your teammate is fast enough to eliminate the weaker of the two.

The tables turn.

The clash of blades, splash of potions and grunts of pain quickly move to the edge of the center island. It’s two verses one now, and the three of you are the last competitors in the match.

Block the swing, return the blow, duck, block, dodge—

A sudden stab in your shoulder alerts you to an arrow stuck in the skin there, slowly depleting your health.

It’s merely a distraction.

The enemy player barrels into you, sending you stumbling backwards right at the edge of crumbling gravel.

Poison becomes your downfall.

The smack of another half heart.

As one last resort, you grip onto the block with one hand, the other dangling with your bow into the void. Gritting your teeth, you do your damndest to drag yourself up, the poison wreaking havoc through your body and strength.

Shit. I’m not going to survive this, am I?

The one-handed grip on your bow tightens, nocked arrow slipping between your dirt-covered fingers.

You make a decision.

Just as the enemy player comes over, smirking but low on health, you let go of the block, drawing your arrow back as you fall into the void.

The broadhead meets its mark just in time, signalling a victory with a dragon appearing underneath you right before you hit the death line. A sigh of relief escapes your lips; you direct the dragon upwards with a rush of gratefulness soaring through your body. Respawning isn’t a pleasant process.

Twenty or so seconds later, you appear back in the lobby with your teammate at your side. The lobby is nearly empty, only a few people milling around, most having traveled elsewhere or checked into a tavern or hotel.

“You’re good. We could use you on our side.”

“ ‘We’?”

Two other figures appear out of seemingly nowhere, one wearing white-rimmed black sunglasses with a blue hoodie, the other a bandana and a white hoodie with flames on the front of it.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, calling up a portal in your mind, ready to dash through it at the slightest hint of a threat. Sparks form by your palms, their signature color drawing the leader’s attention.

“Calm down. I have no interest in killing you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retort. “Three versus one isn’t exactly fair y’know.” The sparks grow brighter; though they are primarily used to call up portals, they can deal quite a blow to anyone who forcefully comes into contact with them.

Dream (you now read off his nametag, getting sick of referring to him by random aliases) extends a hand in front of his body. Something hovers in it, glowing a soft white and reading something you can’t quite make out.

“It’s not going to kill you.”

Bandanna laughs at that.

“Reassuring,” you snap, taking a closer look at it.

Invitation: Dream SMP

Active?: Yes

Expires: Never

Taken aback, you sputter out a few jumbled sentences before asking why they’d invite you of all people. Sure, you may be okay at Skywars, but that doesn’t warrant an invitation to literally the most exclusive server in the network.

“Uh—what?”

You take a quick glance at the two others, noting their tags are red and white as well, reading Sapnap and Georgenotfound.

“You don’t have to accept.” Dream steps forward to set the glowing orb in your hands. “Just know that we picked you for a very good reason.

How… interesting.

“Is it ‘cause I’m an inactive Crasher?”

The three stiffen at the moniker used for the infamous Jumpers, the ones who figure out ways around the system, the lines of fate that make up the different servers, finding loopholes that not even the best Mender can. They exploit them, gaining almost god-like abilities on the server only to wreak absolute anarchy on the infrastructure until the admin can step in, if they haven’t been eliminated from the system or perma-killed already.

From what little you know about the Dream SMP, you know the admin is a god of sorts, mostly staying out of the way but occasionally fixing matters that need it. Otherwise they stay… wherever gods stay.

“No,” George pipes up. You note his accent, odd and slightly out of place, but not unpleasant. “You being a Jumper does help, however.”

You’ve heard of elusive servers where Jumpers have access to a lot of power and near-unlimited resources, though no one can quite figure out why. Those servers are typically entirely anarchy.

“Yeah, sure.” But you clutch the invitation closer to your person anyway. It glows a bit brighter at the increased contact.

“Think on it.”

Those words echo through your mind throughout the rest of the night, in your bed, subconsciously in your dreams and into the next morning.

It’s no easy decision. You know you’ll be dragged into all sorts of politics, conflict and battles unlike the Skywars ones you usually find yourself dealing with.

Your hand grips the glowing ball a bit tighter, reading the same three statements engraved on it repeatedly until the words are branded into your mind.

And then it disappears.

“Invitation accepted.”