#sigh. i probably will write it. probably wont post it.

[pyrriax]

yk what i just realized?

i accidentally wrote pandora with a slightly altered version of my issues pvnjkdml

i noticed it but not All of it

[mcybree]

Random limlife Scott rant, GO!

I got this ask and decided that I’d give it my best shot but got so mad on my skim through some of the moments I remembered that I gave up.

[koipalm]

the FICS that i would write if i didnt have to post on ao3 to get people to read them...

[dinogoofymutated]

Morph/GN!Reader It's a little late, and super short and not that in-depth, but I'll be honest, I've been on the struggle bus lol. I feel that Practical magic might have to hold on until after october, as I really want to post the secret surprise guest fic on halloween day and I'm worried I wont have enough time if not. Don't worry though! It should still be posted eventually.

You’ve always considered the rumors about your family’s witchy and magical past to be fictional, absolute nonsense. Well, you did, until you found yourself accidentally bound to someone who’s more or less your familiar. Neither of you particularly wants this, so you focus on whatever magical skills you managed to inherit on breaking the bond- but is that really what you want?

TWs: Incredibly inaccurate witchcraft and magic, misunderstandings, I'll add more if I think of any.

    “And you’re sure this will work?” You sigh at the sound of the voice, Morph sitting on your counter and kicking their feet back and forth as they watch you draw a chalk symbol on the floor. The lines are crooked and the symbol a little wonky, but it looks close enough to the one you saw on Google- you think.

    “Nope.”

    It’s been almost a week since the universe decided that you needed a new problem on your hands. One day you’re joking about the supposed magical past of your family line, then the next day you’re waking up at midnight to heavy vertigo, bright lights, and something- someone in your house. Not only had you jinxed yourself, you had put yourself through some kind of horror movie by walking through the dark house and faceplanting directly into a pale, lanky creature that you were sure you'd seen on some horror forum in the 2010s. Only, they weren’t just some creature. They were your creature. Your familiar, apparently. Like, witchy familiar- like black cats or owls or other creatures of the night- only you got stuck with a Changling, one who wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation, having enjoyed hundreds of years of freedom since being bound to another magic-user.

    “Really starting to doubt that you're an actual witch, you know.” They hum, hopping down from the counter and stretching their arms. You let out a long groan, running your hands through your hair before you plop down on one side of the circle.

    “That’s because I’m not!” You say, exasperated. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing- and if anything I would expect the Fae-born changling to know more about this!” Morph only shrugs, which only aggravates you further.

    “Don’t hate the player, rookie, hate the game.”

    “Would you please sit down already?” 

    The instructions you follow make you feel stupid. You had everything that the “spell” or whatever it was required, but it was just so… cheesy. Every step you follow feels stereotypical and fake. You’re a hundred percent sure that it probably wasn't exactly common for witches and whatnot to sever the magical bond between themselves and their familiars,  but this wasn't really an average situation. You don’t want to use magic, or be a witch! And Morph doesn’t want to be stuck to you either! You can already see the hopeful glimmer in their eyes as the chalk circle begins to glow,  the writing on the sheet of paper you were using to guide you quickly following suit. The air begins to feel staticky, charged with magical energy. There’s a buzzy feeling underneath your skin, and the tension in the air begins to grow as the tea candles on the counter go out suddenly. There’s a moment of anticipation, and then a flash of blinding light. You close your eyes at the bright shine, feeling the buzzy feeling die down. There’s a silence in the air, and when you finally open your eyes… Morph is still there, tapping their fingers against the wood floor. They look a little disappointed, before giving you a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. 

    “Soooo, should we order takeout tonight?”

    “God damnit.”

    You go grocery shopping instead. While you're in the store, Morph is really helpful. You’ve only known them a day or two, but they are certainly living up to their title. You don’t really have to ask for help very much, sometimes they just do things you need, and other times you do ask them to do something (stupid tall shelves) and it’s almost like compassion for them to fulfill your requests. You don’t like that. Morph is still smiling, but you don’t think they like it either.

    Morph is… strange. Not in a regular way- and the constant changing and taking on new forms isn't exactly news to you, besides the fact you had been so sure changelings usually take on a single shape, but then again you didn’t exactly do a ton of research on that kind of mythology. You’re starting to think you should have, but that's aside from the point. Morph is actually really nice, and funny, and always manages to find a way to make you laugh. There are moments when it just feels so authentic and others that feel… hollow, almost. 

    As nice as it was to have company, the quest for a spell to sever the bond between you continued. Morph helps you find spellbooks at the library you had never known existed, stayed up late with you to find herbs and fungus that only grew at night, helped you make breakfast and drank wine with you on the weekends before laughing with you until morning. Months go by of this, and despite every failed spell or ritual, the air between you only settles, both of you relaxing into a new comfortable energy. They’re less stiff than they used to be, you noticed. they’re less afraid to make mistakes, and more likely to join you for company. 

    Eventually, Morph tells you about their sinister first master- if you can call the bastard that. It’s a serious moment, one you’re not likely to forget, but afterward, you find a new kind of appreciation for how comfortable they were in your home, and with you.

    From then on, things between you… change a bit. Something shifts. Morph is a lot more touchy with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, draping themselves across you on the couch. Their jokes come off more genuine and less stiff- less of a defense than they were before. There’s newfound mutual trust, one that you start to enjoy.

    …But they still had to go home, right?

    You feel like every step closer you get to having the perfect spell mastered, something goes wrong. All these little nitpicky things that you had overlooked time and time again begin to wear on you, and with your growing fondness for Morph, it wears you down a little. You want them to say, but you don’t want to keep them here. Not against their wishes. Additionally, your new spellbooks and supplies-  hell, even the crystals you owned before any of this magic stuff surfaced had gone missing. You go to try another attempt, and time and time again, after not being able to find the key components you knew you had, you gave up and waited for another day. And then when you would find what you needed, something else would be missing instead. You have never felt so forgetful then you did while searching the house and having to get Morph to help you- because it really had to be you misplacing things, right?

    What was stranger was that Morph didn’t really care. They would laugh about it and shrug their arms and lightly make fun of you, but never made you feel too bad about it. You had felt so guilty every single time, knowing that you were keeping them here due to your own thoughtlessness- and the fact that you enjoyed them being here only made the guilt worsen. 

    Eventually, the time finally came when this foolproof spell you had been working on for so long was ready. 

    The room is lit by candles, the chalk on the floor almost glowing against the dark wood. There’s a small fire in the center of the circle, various crystals and things placed around in strategic patterns, and the air is buzzing with magic. You’ve recited these words so many times at this point you had it memorized, so focused on wrapping the twine rope to bind yourself and Morph’s wrists together you hardly see the way their face shifts, looking paler than ever. 

    “Are you sure this is going to work this time?” Morph asks, an unsteady tone to their voice. 

    “Well, we’ll know if the fire-” You don’t even have to finish your reply, as soon as the twine has been fully wound, only a string hanging down in the middle, the fire shifts in color, a wave of magic sweeping the room and every other candle and flame following suit. You look around in surprise, with this being the first time you’ve ever had that kind of reaction. It feels… good. The magic beneath your skin, the power and control you have over the elusive spell at your fingertips. And yet, you still can’t bring yourself to smile. 

    The fire beneath your wrists stretches, the flame flickering up to lick at the twine that hangs between you. This kind of flame won't burn the skin, only the rope, you remind yourself as you anxiously watch the fire grow. You can’t hear anything over your heart pounding in your ears, the twine burning slowly before it begins to pick up in speed. A wind begins to pick up in the room, candles flickering as the magic seems to become sucked into the binding as it burns. You’re too focused to really pay attention to Morph’s growing discomfort, but time is ticking, and you look up at them expectantly when they must speak their half of the spell, taking their power back for themself and rescinding your use of it.

    “Morph?” They don’t respond to their name, eyebrows furrowed as the flame burns more and more of the rope. You finally notice how nervous they look, heaving breaths and shaking shoulders. It’s all moving so fast, and they’re running out of time. The flame completely overtakes the twine when Morph suddenly shifts the size of their wrist, yanking it out of the binding. All of the air is sucked out of the room, the magic following suit as every flame returns to its normal color, and you can’t help but let out a screech as your wrist begins to burn. 

    “Shit! Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry.” Morph is rambling.  You’re desperately trying to get the rope off as they race off to the side, grabbing the bucket of emergency water you kept just in case something went wrong. You call their name in frustration, tears dotting your eyes as they grab your hands and plunge it into the water, quenching the fire.

    “Please, just don’t be mad!” They beg, but it’s a little late for that. Your growing anger is only amplified by the unbearable pain from the burn on your wrist.

    “Of course I’m mad!” You shout. “How can I not be?!” Tears are finally beginning to roll down your cheek, from the pain or the anger, you didn’t know. Morph is becoming frantic, running back over to the side to grab the first-aid kit before sitting down with it. You can’t bring yourself to take your wrist out of the cool water. They can’t seem to decide the best way to help you, either, hands reaching out to wipe your tears but retracting before they can touch your face.

    “I can’t- I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

    “Why didn’t you just tell me?!” The words come out like a shout, and Morph flinches, looking ashamed. 

    “Do you have any Idea how hard this was for me?” You sob. “-To tap into whatever magic bullshit this all is, do all of these rituals and spells and have each one of them fail? Having to prepare myself for you to leave me over and over again?!” There’s a second of silence, Morph looking at you wide-eyed.

    “What?” Morph breathes, in absolute shock, still hovering by your side. You scoff at the question, taking your wrist out of the water to weakly punch at their chest.

    “You’re such an oblivious asshole!” Your arms are around them before they have a second to react, burning your face into their shoulder. Morph is frozen, stiff under you like they still haven't fully processed what was happening. You continue to cry into them, sobs and hiccups slowing while they begin to relax, wrapping their arms around you and burying their face into your hair.

    “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to stay?” The words are whispered and broken, but Morph only holds you tighter.

    “I… I thought you wanted me to go.” Morph mumbles. You shake your head, only curling into them further. They hold you back just as tight, and you know that the relief you’re feeling is mutual. 

    You sit together for a long, teary-eyed moment, breathing each other in.

    “So…” Morph breaks the silence. “Takeout?” You laugh, and it’s possibly the greatest sound they've ever heard.

    “Hell yeah.”

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

@inmyheaddd

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY JUDEEE 💖💖 WORDS CANNOT AND WILL NOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I LOVEE YOUU AND I REALLY HOPE THAT THIS DAY IS ONE OF THE BEST FOR YOUUU BECAUSE YOUR DESERVE IT SO MCUHHH!!🎂🥳🎉😘 YOURE ONE OF THE SWEETEST, KINDEST, MOST AMAZING PEOPLE, I KNOW AND IM SO GLAD TO HAVE MET YOUUUU

(AND ALSOOO I MANAGED TO WRITE SOMETHING SO LONG THAT TUMBLR WONT LET ME POST IT ALL OM THE SAME POST SOOOOO THERE’S TWO PARTSSS 😭😭 SORRY GIRLLL )

THIS IS SET BEFORE AVERYYYY (TOBIAS IS STILL ALIVE JUST NOT A FEATURE)

HERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO YOUUU, I HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY…

title: jude’s birthday (part 1)

pairing: jude x jameson hawthorne

“I hate how long it takes popcorn to pop,” Xander groaned putting his head in his hands as he stared dismally brown bag of popcorn doing pirouettes in the microwave.

Jude laughed, shaking her head, “it’s like two minutes.”

“Two whole minutes,” he replied, eyes widened with hyperbole, “outrageous isn’t it!”

“You are funny Xand,” she sighed.

It was one of Jude and Xander’s classic movie nights, they were hosted at least once a month and were quite the occasion. But, as usual, Xander was being extremely impatient for his popcorn. If Jude had a pound for every time they had this conversation, she’d probably be richer than him.

“It wasn’t a joke I really think that-“ the ding of the microwave cut him off.

“You were saying?” she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in challenge.

“In theory,” Xander began, “two minutes always feels a lot longer than it seems.”

“Mmm sure,” she grinned playfully.

Xander had been Jude’s best friend forever now. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. He’d been there for so long he was automatically part of every thought she had, connected to her heart. They knew each other like the back of their hands, an interlocking history of stories shared between them.

“Let’s change the conversation topic,” he said quickly, averting his eyes.

Jude shrugged, leaning against the countertop behind her, “I don’t mind this one.”

“Well I do,” he countered, “let’s talk about you and Jameson.”

Jude’s stomach somersaulted at the sound of his name.

“Xander! Lower your voice!” she hissed, looking over her shoulders.

The kitchen didn’t exactly have thick walls. She’d never actually meant to tell Xander about her feelings for Jameson, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t tell anyone. But Xander was her best friend and there were only so many things she could keep from him. It turned out that birthday presents were significantly easier than crushes. Every second she tried to keep it, she felt like a liar, so eventually the truth was just revealed.

“Relax,” he shrugged, “he’s not even home.”

“Doesn’t matter, you promised me you wouldn’t speak about it,” Jude said, giving him a pointed look.

“So as your best friend you really expected me to say nothing about him to you?” he raised the one eyebrow that wasn’t burnt off.

“Well no but-“

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Xander asked, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“I talk to him every day,” she sighed, “we’re friends, remember?”

“Ouch,” he winced, “the friendzone.”

Jude laughed, “you sound like a documentary voiceover.”

Somehow Xander always managed to make her laugh. He had the rare quality to pretty much turn any situation into a positive light. Jude loved that about him.

“Maybe I should make a documentary about you guys,” he pondered, putting the voice back on, “the Jujubear backs away once again, retreading from the rare Jameson raccoon dog-“

“Raccoon dog!” she yelped, unable to stop herself.

“He gives those vibes,” he shrugged in reply.

“He does not!”

“I think you have an unconscious bias,” Xander grinned, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Nope I’m very conscious of my bias actually,” she stuck her tongue out, laughing.

Jude had liked Jameson for a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. Initially, Xander and Jude had been the two to click, best friends since the day Xander had found her lost doll, the one with her name engraved on the front. She remembered the moment distinctly, a little boy with intelligent eyes and a shy smile walking towards her. She’d been crying and was still a little bleary eyes, yet her expression totally flipped when he revealed the doll and asked her if it was hers. From then on they’d just been stuck with each other.

Jude had always been close to all of the brothers in her own way, growing up around them just naturally made them gravitate together. But with Jameson it had always felt that bit different, that bit more special. He made her feel free, like she could breathe, like the stress of life didn’t matter, like no weight was heavy on her chest anymore. She loved how she felt with him, how he made her feel inside.

“So have you made a move yet,” Xander asked her, a mischievous smile lacing his lips.

She stared at him, her face saying it all, “what do you think?”

“Jude!” he exclaimed, melodramatically throwing his head into his hands.

“It’s really hard,” she defended, arms up like a convicted criminal.

“You’re just scared,” he told her.

Xander was always honest, annoyingly honest. He didn’t even embellish the truth to soften the blow. Jude knew he had a point, she was scared of ruining over a decade of friendship with Jameson. It wasn’t exactly something she wanted to lose over her feelings. She’d rather be friends than nothing.

Still, she was slightly stubborn and didn’t want to fully admit that quite yet, “am not,” she countered.

“Are too!” Xander quipped, “and you can’t even admit it so you’re also in denial.”

“Eat your popcorn,” she grumbled, not looking directly into his eyes.

“Ahhhh so I am right but you can’t accept it,” he grinned, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “I see you Judesicle.”

“I swear to you Xander, I will steal all your blueberry scones if this conversation doesn’t end here,” she glared at him.

His face paled slightly and his jaw hung slack, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she said, with a dark smile.

Xander knew better than to mess with that face. He’d only seen it a couple of times but he recognised it always as a direct warning sign.

“Fine I’ll end the conversation,” he replied with a sigh.

Jude grinned, satisfied, before he flicked her forehead. She was more in shock than in pain but complained just as well. Xander teased her further but she could only smile. He was everything. A ray of sunshine. If she was drowning, he was her lifeline. He was always there, no matter what.

“You know I’ve decided something,” Xander said, popping another piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Are you finally going to properly grow your eyebrows out?” Jude guessed, “seriously I miss them.”

“What? No! Ouch!”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for her water glass.

“I’m going to get you two together,” Xander announced.

Jude almost choked, “what?”

“You and Jamie,” he shrugged.

“What happened to ending the conversation,” she exclaimed with wide eyes.

Xander only smiled, “you never said for how long!”

“Hawthornes and their loopholes,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Of course, the one time she hadn’t been meticulously specific with her words Xander had taken advantage.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he replied, “anyways I am committed now, to make this relationship happen.”

Jude knew that look in his eyes that stubbornly determined look that he often had when one of his experiments was constantly failing. ‘Failure is just success waiting to happen’, he’d once told her. It was safe for anyone to say that Xander was an optimist.

“No you’re not,” she shook her head, “you’re going to stay out of it.”

“You wish,” he pokes his tongue out, “think of me as your wingman.”

“Well can my ‘wingman’ stop meddling with my love life,” Jude deadpanned, folding her arms.

“That’s all a wingman is meant to do!” he yelled, exasperated, “you want to take away my destiny Jude? My one life goal, the desire and aspiration of my soul, the thing that makes my heart-“

“Fine.” she said dryly, “you can help-“

A wide grin spread across his lips, “I knew I’d make you crack.”

“But-“

“Why is there a but!” he pouted.

“On my terms,” she finished.

“Okay…” Xander said slowly, “but your terms can’t be ‘don’t help’.”

Jude made a face.

“You’re so predictable,” he teased, ruffling her hair, “you have to remember I’m the loophole master, you’re not getting anything past me.”

She rolled her eyes, smoothing down the hair on top of her head, “fine, but here are the terms so pay attention. Term one, don’t make it obvious because I swear Xand, if he finds out I’m going to kill you.”

“You know for you to get together he has to know you like him right?” Xander said.

“Yes but knowing you, he’ll find out way to early and if he doesn’t like me back-“

“Which I think he does,” he interrupted.

Jude groaned, she’d been in this cycle with him too many times, “stop feeding into my delusions!”

“But I’m your wingman!”

“Just!” she sighed running her fingers through her hair, “anyway, if he doesn’t like me back the it’ll get awkward so try and retain yourself.”

Xander saluted, “roger that!”

“Second term-“

“How long is this list?” he asked impatiently, somehow he had the attention span of three year old for conventional instructions but not for complex maths.

“You agreed to my terms remember so there’s as many as I like,” she beamed, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

He groaned. He’d missed a loophole.

“Second term: no grand schemes to noticeably leave us together,” she announced, “please try and be subtle.”

“Subtle is my middle name!”

“Xander,” Jude said flatly, “you’re about a subtle as an elephant doing a ballet routine on a pogo stick wearing multicoloured polka dots.”

“I thought you liked that about me,” he said, large brown eyes wide.

“I do,” she reassured him, “just not when it comes to me and Jameson.”

“Rewind,” he cut in, “isn’t term two the same as term one?”

“No, term one is essentially don’t reveal I like Jameson with your mouth,” she explained, “term two is don’t reveal I like Jameson with your actions.”

“What’s term three; avoid obvious body language?” he scoffed.

“Wow you’re picking this up faster than usual!” Jude teased.

“Hey!”

“No sneaky looks,” she instructed, “obvious eye contact, smirks or that wiggly eyebrow thing you do.”

“This?” Xander asked, pointing to his eyebrow and a half, wiggling them up and down.

“Exactly,” she said, “please don’t do that.”

His expression dropped, “but I love making my eyebrow wiggle!”

“Restrain yourself wingman,” she replied, patting his shoulder.

He gave a long and exaggerated sigh, “for the good of your relationship, I will.”

“There is no relationship,” Jude muttered, “don’t get my hopes up.”

“Yet… there is no relationship yet,” he corrected, “I’m not getting your hopes up, I just have a whole lot of faith that this is going to work out.”

She sighed, with a small smile silently questioning what she’d ever done to deserve a best friend with such a beautiful soul in her life.

“Okay,” she confided, “fourth term Grayson and Nash do not find out.”

Xander hesitated for a long second before replying. Jude’s chest seized in panic. No one else was supposed to know.

“Hate to break it to you,” he winced, “but I think they already know.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry but-“

“Why would you tell them!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes, her heart racing.

Part of her almost felt betrayed. It wasn’t like Xander to spill anything she’d told him, in fact he knew nearly all of her secrets. One side of her brain was telling her he’d never do that and the other was saying the proof is in the pudding. All Jude knew was that she was starting to get a headache.

“I didn’t say anything I swear,” he defended.

“I trusted you Xand!”

“I swear on my last blueberry scone I said nothing!” he said quickly, holding his hands in the air so she could see none of his fingers were crossed.

Jude knew then he was telling the truth. Not just from the uncrossed fingers or the fact he swore on his last blueberry scone, but from the earnest look shining through his eyes, that bled into his face. Guilt began to gnaw at her internal organs for assuming so quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to jump to con-“

“It’s fine,” he shrugged with no hint of offence, “don’t worry about it.”

“How do they know then?” Jude wondered aloud, confused.

Maybe they’d overheard one of her and Xander’s many conversation on this topic? Maybe she’d spoken in her sleep subconsciously? Maybe Grayson was a secret mindreader? She’d always suspected to last one anyway.

“Jude,” Xander sighed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, “has it ever occurred to you that you make it a teensy bit obvious?”

She giggled and shook her head, “I don’t make it obvious.”

He looked at her.

“Do I?” she murmured, anxiously.

“Let’s just say I think the only person who doesn’t know you like Jameson is Jameson,” Xander said slowly.

She stood still, paralysed, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could but as your best friend and newly appointed wingman-“ he paused to wink, “- I have to be honest with you.”

“This is so bad,” she groaned.

“Did you miss the part where I mentioned Jameson not knowing?”

“Of course he knows Xander!” she cried, “do you even know how perceptive he is!?”

“Not when it comes to girls, trust me.”

“I’ve messed everything up all over some stupid feelings for a stupid boy with really cute, get-lost-in-for-hours green eyes!” Jude said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You haven’t messed anything up, you’re overthinking entirely,” Xander soothed, putting an arm around her, “but can we keep fangirling over my brother to a minimum please, I do not need to hear that.”

“But you’re my wingman,” she teased, looking up at him.

“Touché Jude, touché,” he sighed.

“But fine I’ll keep it a minimum around you,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, “and I promise you Jameson has no idea you like him, trust me.”

She glanced over him sceptically, questioning his logic silently, as much as she did trust him, the signs pointed the other way.

“When have I ever let you down Jude? Have some faith in me,” he said.

He had a point. Xander had never let her down. Not in all the time she’d known him. No matter how big or small it was, he was by her side immediately. All his promises were kept, all the shared secrets, hidden.

“Okay then,” she told him, “I believe you.”

“Great,” he flashed her a grin, “now you go to bed whilst I go and work out phase one of mission:” he took a deep breath, “get-my-best-friend-and-brother-to-go-out-because-they’re-both-too-scared-to-make-the-first-move-which-is-totally-dumb- because-they’re-clearly-made-for-each-other.”

“Well that’s a bit of a mouthful,” Jude replied dryly.

“I shortened it to mission JJ,” Xander said, moving his hand across the air as if revealing a title.

Jude looked at him, head tilted to the side.

“Mission Jude and Jameson,” he clarified, “obviously,”

“Right…”

“Anyway I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” he said, “you need to get your beauty sleep.”

“Hey!” she yelled, whacking his arm, “and what happened to our movie night? There’s cold popped popcorn in that bowl for about six people.”

His eyes widened suddenly remembering their plans, “oh yeah.”

“And I made homemade brownies this afternoon per your request!” she said, “did I do that for nothing?”

“How could I forget!” he replied, “change of plans, movie night first, plotting mission JJ tomorrow.”

“I call first dibs on the movie,” Jude said before he could get there.

“No fair!” he whined.

“You snooze you lose Hawthorne,” she grinned, “besides I made the tray of brownies that were about to enjoy so surely I should get first pick.”

“But I’m your wingman,” Xander pouted, trying to win her over with the puppy dog eyes.

Luckily for Jude, she’d gotten good at resisting. It was certainly not an easy task, something about the pleading expression and longing face from his eyes reeled you in like a sirens song.

“Wingman shwingman,” she stuck her tongue out, “we’re watching ‘bones and all’.”

“No not this torture!” Xander protested, “not again! It’s like the fifth time this week!”

“Second actually,” she corrected him, grabbing the box of brownies, “and don’t lie, you secretly love it. “

“No I don’t,” he replied, “it’s disturbing Jude, utterly disturbing that you enjoy it.”

“It isn’t!”

“And you always cry at the end even when you know what coming,” he rolled his eyes, carrying the popcorn and drinks.

Jude gasped, “don’t judge me, you bawled it on Tuesday night!”

Xander didn’t look her in the eye and made his way to their movie room. Despite Hawthorne house making multiple movie theatres Jude and Xander had created their own. It had all begun when they were ten, making pillow forts and now it had become this. A large white screen sat towards the back of the room, a projector ready to play the movie. The room was adorned with fairy lights and was cozy and warm. The sofa was a mess of fluff and blankets, dozens of mismatched pillows and soft plushies sat there, waiting to be cuddled.

“Do you really want to cry again tonight?” Xander sighed, slumping down.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting beside him with a grin.

“Do you really want me to cry again tonight?” he asked, trying to play on her heartstrings.

“Brownies,” she sang, waving the box towards him, a little incentive went a long way with Xander.

He glared at her for all of two seconds before taking the box, grumbling, “fine.”

“See I knew you secretly loved this movie,” Jude beamed, pressing play.

“I do not but I love you and I love brownies so I’ll brace it,” Xander said, taking a bite.

“Good idea.”

***

The credits rolled across the screen, not that Jude could even read them, her eyes were too blurred with tears. How did it get her every time?

“It’s so beautiful,” she choked out.

No matter how many times she watched it, the feeling never got old.

“Don’t cry you’ll set me off too,” Xander said, clearly trying to keep it together, wide brown eyes glossy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t shed a tear at the halfway mark,” she exclaimed.

“I’m actually hardcore Judsicle,” he responded, “made soully of masculinity and weightlifting and football and…”

“And scones?” she raised a brow.

“Well of course I’m 98% scone,” he smiled.

“Naturally,” she grinned.

“Speaking of which you know what would be amazing,” Xander said.

The way he said amazing, made Jude question the next thing that might come out of his mouth, partly because she knew Xander so well it would be something utterly bizarre but equally wonderful that wouldn’t fail to surprise her.

“What?”

“If we cut a blueberry scone in half and put icecream in the middle,” he proposed.

“Like a scone icecream sandwich,” she asked.

“Exactly!” he clicked fingers, “that would be revolutionary.”

“I’ll stick to my brownies,” she laughed.

“Oooo ooo ooo,” he bounced excitedly, shaking her arm, “what if i sandwiched one of your brownies in a scone, now that would be-“

“Completely ruining a culinary masterpiece.”

Jude’s heart skipped a beat. It was only his voice that could do that to her. She shot a look at Xander that said ‘I thought he was out’ which Xander only shrugged in response to. Jude dared to look in Jameson’s direction and there he stood, loose tie, slightly messy hair, his top two buttons undone and blazer jacket slung over one shoulder. She noted the scratches on his patent shoes as well as the watch on his wrist which looked to be two minutes behind.

“Isn’t that right, Judy?” he grinned.

Butterflies attacked her stomach like an angry mob, hurling themselves at the walls. They fluttered around carelessly and bashfully. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from smiling right back like an idiot.

She glared at him instead, “don’t call me that.”

“Okay…” he paused, “…Judy.”

“You’re back early,” she commented, regretting saying the words as soon as they left her mouth.

Why was she being so obvious when she’d literally just lectured Xander in not being obvious? She knew she was going to replay this moment over and over tonight and drive herself mad over it.

“Got tired,” he shrugged.

Jude’s eyes fell over his attire again, scanning it for any clues. Jameson wasn’t one to leave places early, he liked a good party and a couple of drinks. But judging by his state he hadn’t had many, if any. Her eyes caught when they met his collar. A perfect red stain was printed on the white, a pair of round lips leaving their mark.

It felt like a punch in the gut, her heart just plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t think he liked her so why did it hurt so much to come to the realisation he actually didn’t. Why feel sad over something she hadn’t even lost?

Jameson caught her looking, his eyes growing wide with some sort of panic, “this isn’t what it looks like,” he rushed.

“I know you well enough now Jameson,” Jude laughed it off, burying the pain, “I’m not your mother, you won’t be in trouble for kissing a girl.”

“Like our mother would care,” Xander murmured.

She’d almost forgotten he was sat there, watching the whole thing play out. Tonight, Jude knew she’d definitely be asking him to analyse every detail of this conversation with her.

“Oh I didn’t kiss anyone tonight,” Jameson replied.

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head towards his shirt, “lipstick says otherwise.”

He sighed, “I spilt whiskey down my shirt after getting a little tipsy and it stained, shame really I liked that shirt, anyway some guy offered me a spare shirt, one catch was he’d worn it the previous night, I didn’t even notice the lipstick stains until I was on my way back.”

She stared at him blankly, betraying no emotion with her face.

“You don’t believe me,” Jameson said.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she replied, tilting her head to the side.

“That’s why it’s true,” he pressed on, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“Okay,” Jude said.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Jude smiled coyly.

Looking at his shirt now, it didn’t fit as well as his other ones. Usually Jameson’s clothes were expertly tailored to his body, this shirt hung too loose around his torso yet his arms made the fabric taut. All of the buttons were there, also uncommon for Jameson as he nearly always had one that was loose or had fallen off.

Still, leaving Jameson Hawthorne the mystery as to why she wouldn’t believe him was one thing that would surely play on his mind. And Jude wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of playing on his mind.

“Right I’m picking the next movie,” Xander announced, rushing to the movie box.

She groaned, “fine.”

“Don‘t give me that look I just sat through ‘bones and all’ for you,” he scowled.

“I love that movie,” Jameson grinned.

Jude look up at him, “you do?”

“I don’t,” Xander yelled from the corner.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I had no idea you liked it too.”

“Yeah I do,” she said.

“Maybe you two should watch it together sometime,” Xander said, plainly and simply, no weird signals or hidden messages, “it would save me from a few hours of torment.”

Jude smiled to herself. Maybe this wingman thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah maybe we should,” Jameson nodded.

Her heart leapt and began to race uncontrollably. He wanted to watch her favourite movie with her. She pinched herself just to make sure this moment was real.

“I’d be up for it,” she agreed.

“Soon then,” he said, “but now I have to go and shower, I don’t know what happened in this shirt and I don’t think I want to.”

She wrinkled her nose, “you should probably burn it after.”

He leant down, “you read my mind.”

Jude felt her cheeks burn.

“Enjoy your movie night,” he winked, “goodnight Judy.”

“Jude,” she snapped.

“Judy,” he sang, sauntering away.

She shook her head with a laugh and watched him until he was out of the door. Still, Xander and Jude were quiet until they were sure he was completely out of earshot.

“Well hello Mr and Mrs Flirty McFlirtison,” Xander exploded, bringing back the eyebrow wiggle.

“Xand!” she yelled, slapping his arm before burying her face into his shoulder to hide her blush.

“I mean I thought rom coms were bad but you two top that entirely,” he said.

“Oh shut it!” Jude tusked, “he wasn‘t even flirting.”

“Please,” he scoffed, “were we in the same room?”

“You’re totally making it out more than it is,” she rolled her eyes, “besides you saw the lipstick.”

“He explained it,” Xander defended.

“Likely story,” she sighed, sinking under a pile of blankets.

“You know it’s true, I saw you analysing,” he replied narrowing his eyes at her, “and usually I can always see through my brothers lying and my lie detector senses were not tingling.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not going to happen,” she said.

She needed to be real, honest with herself. The chances were slim, slimmer than slim. Maybe she could settle for just friends.

“Nu-uh I’ve started mission JJ now, it will be completed,” he replied a strong hard determination in his voice.

“Forget it Xand,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I have a talent for being annoyingly determined and persistent,” he sighed, “so sorry but no can do.”

She rolled her eyes, “what movie are we watching?”

He sensed the changed in subject and didn’t press her anymore. Another thing about Xander was his incredible ability to sense emotions and let things go when they needed to be let go.

“Finding Nemo,” he replied, “obviously.”

Jude looked at him for a moment. Time stood still and memories of their friendship played like a mini movie in her mind. Every movie night they’d had, every laugh they’d shared, every time he’d held her when she cried and every time she’d held him after his grandfather was horrible. Every moment, every second of her everything.

“Hey Xand,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I love you,” she beamed.

A large smile spread across his lips before he swiftly tackled her with a classic Xander hug.

“Love you too Jujubear,” he said, “now where are those brownies, I need to make my brownie-scone sandwich concoction: the scrownie as I like to call it.”

“Did you just make that name up now?” she asked him.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You,” she said, “are one of a kind.”

“Best way to be,” he poked his tongue out pressing play on the movie.

***

Jude woke up with her head on Xander’s stomach. His long limbs were sprawled out every which way. She almost laughed at the sight. Light streamed through the curtains, giving her a perfect view of the chaos. Pillow there, sweatshirt here, half eaten bowl of popcorn there, Xander’s sock here. She noticed someone had covered them both over with a blanket.

Slowly sitting up, she stretched out her stiff body before she covered Xander back over with another blanket. Jude sighed, wiping the sleep from her eyes before untangling a piece of popcorn from her hair. That must’ve been from the midnight popcorn war. She smiled to herself and glanced at the screen, the jungle book was playing quietly the background, though the last thing she remembered watching was little women.

Groggily, she stood up and despite stretching, her legs and hips still clicked. She made her way to the kitchen, craving a warm drink. As she walked in she hit something hard and stumbled back. Jude felt her stomach drop as she fell backwards, panic seizing her throat, keeping her from yelling out. Inches from the floor, a strong hand grasped the small of her back, saving Jude from what seemed to be an inevitable crash into the tiles beneath her. Reeling her upwards and setting her straight, she met the emerald eyes of her saviour.

“Good morning,” he smiled softly.

She just stared, unable to form a coherent sentence or even a simple thank you. Jameson Hawthorne was stood there, shirtless, his arm still around her waist. An electric feeling tingled deep within her chest, a spark of sorts. Their eyes clung to one another’s and for a moment everything stood still. The clock’s hands didn’t tick, the birdsong was silenced and their mouths didn’t breathe.

And then it passed. Then it was nothing again and she jerked away suddenly, realising where she was and who she was with. Her brain could only process one word as she stared. Abs. Abs. Abs.

“Holy cow!”

“Ouch,” he laughed, “I know it’s early but I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

The regret sunk in, she’d pulled away from his touch, his hands on her waist. She shook the feeling away.

“No you don’t look bad,” she rambled, “you look the opposite of bad, actually, which is good, which is an understatement, not that I think you look good good but I don’t think you don’t look good, but you just surprised me because-“

“Hey I was kidding,” Jameson chuckled, “do you want a coffee?”

Jude knew her cheeks were bright red before she felt the heat in them. She’d never felt so mortified in her life.

“Rather a green tea please,” she replied meekly.

He raised an eyebrow fetching two mugs, “I thought you were a coffee person?”

Jude’s heart palpitated as her stomach tied into yet another love knot. He remembered. Why did he remember? How did he remember? Had he noticed her always drinking coffee?

“I am…” she hesitated, “…well was, I’ve recently found a new love for green tea.”

“Nash got you into them didn’t he,” Jameson sighed.

She winced, “possibly.”

He wrinkled his nose, “that means I’ve lost another bet.”

“Bet?”

“I wagered,” he explained, “that Nash couldn’t convince another person green tea was actually good because it tastes like grass-“

“It doesn’t not!” she interrupted him, passionate for her cause.

He laughed, a sound melodic to her ears, “I seriously thought I had this one in the bag.”

“I can’t believe my love for green tea is now all part of a bet,” she sighed, resting her elbows of the counter to cup her face in her hands.

“Awww are you really surprised?” Jameson asked.

“Oddly enough,” she replied, “no.”

“Good,” he winked, sending a swarm of baby butterflies into her stomach, “now let me make you a nice cup of grass stew.”

She rolled her eyes, “it doesn’t tatse like grass.”

“Are you trying to convince me or you, Judy?”

“Shut up,” she groaned.

“How about, no?” he proposed with a smirk.

“You’re annoying,” she commented, jabbing him in the ribs.

He squirmed, ticklish there.

“No, I’m Jameson,” he poked his tongue out.

She laughed, tilting her head back a little as she did. From the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn his eyes were more fixated on her than the drinks he was supposed to be making,

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, turning on the coffee machine.

“Ish,” she shrugged, “Xander as a pillow did not work any wonders on my neck though. Did you sleep okay?”

“As well as I could,” he replied smoothly, “there was the occasional midnight wander.”

She grinned in reply, then swiftly changed the subject, “thanks for not letting me crack my head open on the floor.”

“No problem,” Jameson said, “it would’ve been a real hassle to clean up.”

“Glad you saved yourself the trouble,” she joked back.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “just watch where you’re going next time.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” she criticised.

He shook his head with a smile as he handed her a mug, “drink up your grass water.”

“It’s not grass water,” she snapped, her expression deadly serious.

“Keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it,” he responded, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Like how you keep telling yourself you’re actually funny,” she countered.

His eyebrows shot up, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and then back down. He cleared his throat, leaning down closer towards her, “you, Judy, are ruthless.”

“Don’t lie, you know you love it,” Jude teased, feeling a little bold.

“I do,” he said, not even denying it.

A golden hope blossomed in the left side of Jude’s chest. It burned with a fiery passion and glowed brighter with every little thing that happened between them. A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the two of them just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the presence of one another.

“I like those,” Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence.

So deep in her own thought Jude registered the comment later than she normally would’ve, “what?”

“Your pyjamas,” he cocked his head towards her pink pyjama set.

She almost choked on her green tea, looking down at her attire, “my pyjamas?”

He nodded, “they’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Is this a repetition game?” he deadpanned.

“No, sorry,” she laughed, “thanks.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It was horrendous Xander!” Jude exclaimed, on their walk, the air crisp and cold.

All the trees had shed their leaves, looking naked and icy on the pale winters day. Bleached of colour, a small layer of ice slush that you could just about call snow, lay on the ground. It was so bitter that you could feel the cold biting through your coat, tinting the tops of your ears and cheeks and nose with a warm red. Winter walks were a necessity to Jude, but on this one she needed to rant as well.

She’d finally managed to drag Xander from his slumber after many different tactics. Blasting alarm bell sound effects through speakers, pillow attacks and the good old temptation of food. Eventually she’d coaxed him out of the house to go on a walk to discuss the events of the morning. She explain everything to him in the exact detail she remembered it in, each part sounding worse and worse as she said it out loud.

“It doesn’t sound that bad,” Xander replied, pulling on his gloves after his hands had gotten too bored of sitting in his pockets.

“Ughhh and it was so embarrassing,” she groaned, “no, scratch that, it was mortifying!”

“You’re overthinking it,” he sighed putting an arm around her, “you have a tendency to do that.”

“Overthinking!” she exclaimed, “how is this overthinking?”

“Maybe he didn’t think anything of it,” Xander suggested.

“I can’t work out whether that’s better or worse,” Jude sighed.

If he didn’t think anything of it then it meant the moment he seen her and then caught her had meant nothing he if he did it meant she’d made an idiot of herself.

“Look I’m sure it’s fine,” he soothed.

“Easy for you to say,” she scoffed, “you didn’t humiliate yourself.”

“You didn’t humiliate yourself,” he sighed.

“I basically told him he looked good shirtless!” Jude said, with a dismal look.

“Hey you finally made a move,” Xander chuckled, attempting to get her to lighten up.

“Not funny Xand,” Jude deadpanned, “I hate the world.”

“No you don’t,” he laughed, pulling her closer into him.

“This is my second caffeine hit today!” she pointed out, waving her coffee cup in his face.

“Yeesh,” he coughed, “you’re really going through it.”

“It isn’t a joke Xand!” she said, “I just want the ground to just swallow me whole.”

“I know and it sucks,” he sighed, “but I have an idea.”

“Is this a Xander idea?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re going to do something to take your mind off of things?”

Jude furrowed her eyebrows, “like what?”

“How do you feel about a game of laser tag?”

***

“This looks questionable,” Jude murmured as Xander handed her a light up laser tag vest.

“Don’t you trust me Judesicle,” he tilted his head to the side.

She sighed, pulling the vest on, “to an extent.”

“Good enough,” he shrugged, moving to her side to tighten the straps.

Their roles reversed as Xander slipped his vest on and Jude helped him do his straps tight enough. He went through the basic rules of the game and how to work everything as well as showing her around the area so he didn’t have such an advantage. Of course, he’d played many times with his brothers so he had an advantage there but Jude was ready. She had too much feeling to not be.

“There’s me and you and of course the simulations of extra people that you can shoot or get shot by,” Xander finished his explanation, “there are three, one blue, one green and one red.”

“Perfect,” she nodded, having had absorbed nearly every word.

“See you on the other side old friend,” he nodded, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Does this game entail death,” she asked.

“No but it sounded like a cool line to drop right about now,” Xander’s face broke out into a grin.

“Okay, let’s get this started,” she said.

Jude shook his hand with a grin before they walked in opposite directions. The question was where to start. She wanted to be hidden and even though she was familiar with the place, Xander knew it back to front was an obvious hiding place was pretty much out of the question.

She eventually chose a flat, unassuming wall and pressed her back up against it, holding her laser gun waiting for the sound to tell her the game had begun. A sharp, crisp whistle like sound screamed through the empty air and the game had begun.

***

Jude’s face was red and her face sleeked with sweat, she was also a little breathless. She’d managed to hit the other players quite successfully gaining her some points but she’d also lost some from being shot herself. Breathing heavily she’d found a corner to hide in, waiting for someone to pass to shoot them.

As soon as she heard footsteps she knew it was Xander. He was also heaving, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible as he continued to run. Jude readied her gun and with one swift, well-timed pull of the trigger, Xander’s white light dulled to nothing. Xander looked up confused, until he saw Jude and screamed.

“Way to give a man a heart attack!” he yelled.

“It’s called tactics,” she winked, running off before his vest came back on and he could shoot again.

She ran across an opening, always a dangerous thing, but lucky for her, her lights still remained on. She made her way down a narrow pathway and twisted through walls and bends when she realised something. She looked down as her pink lights faded. Confused she looked around, getting a start when she saw Xander not three feet behind her, blowing the end of his gun as if it were a pistol.

“Did you follow me?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t prefer to say I tracked you,” he shrugged.

“How? I ran across the opening and no one followed,” she said.

“It was a combination of an epic floor roll,” he explained, “and very silent feet.”

The minute was up, her lights came back on, so she took the opportunity to shot first.

“Hey!” Xander yelled as she sprinted off, “you can’t distract me with conversation to beat me!”

“You snooze, you lose Xand,” she yelled back, running off.

She didn’t hear his reply if he did respond, she was too far away. Suddenly her lights faded again and in the corner of her eye she saw the blue simulation. She sighed, the whole game that blue one had been catching her out. She ran towards another set of jagged pathways with walls parallel to each other and slipped between them carefully, eyes on her target. The red simulation. Once her lights were back on she aimed.

Suddenly she saw a flicker of green approaching and knew she had to make a run for it. Mid-movement, she shot off the red, then turned to the green and managed to get it too. She noticed Xander trying to hide behind a wall so expertly aimed her laser gun around the corner to hit him too. The only one left was the blue simulation, but she wanted to hit it before the other’s lights came back on.

Her eyes darted from left to right until she caught it. The simulation seemingly sprinted down a different corridor, so Jude followed. Fearlessly running, she didn’t take long to catch up to the blue programmed player, and took even less time to shoot him. With a satisfactory smile, she watched as the lights dimmed and turned back to the other way to continue playing. She found Xander mid laser war with the green simulation. Dodging and shooting, dodging and-

A sound roared over all the chaos signalling the game was over. Breathless, Jude and Xander made their way to the exit and the simulations disappeared into thin air.

“Who knew laser tag could take it out of you huh?” Jude panted, taking her light up vest off.

“Daily workout checked off of my to do list,” Xander agreed.

Her eyebrows shot up, “you have a to do list.”

“Nope I have a scrambled mind full of things I’ve had to do in the past that occasionally come back to bite me,” he responded.

“I need to buy you a notebook,” she told him.

“Too conventional for my liking,” he wrinkled his nose.

“What if it played music whenever you opened it?” She proposed.

“I’m more intrigued now I must say,” he mused, making Jude laugh.

“So who won?” she asked him, shrugging off her gear.

“You,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed up to the point board, “you’re a natural.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” she laughed.

“Beat me and it’s your first go ever,” Xander shrugged, then his eyes sparkled, “I want to see you against Gray!”

“And risk my life?” she scoffed, “yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on Jude,” he sighed, “where’s your Hawthorne spirit?”

“I ran it over when you mentioned the possibility of competing against Grayson the Destroyer,” she replied smoothly.

“I forgot we nicknamed him that,” Xander contemplated wistfully.

“I’m still not over the scrabble incident,” she said, the game they had given him the nickname in.

“I’ll rope you into it one day,” he decided.

“Have fun trying,” she said with a stubborn smile.

“Race you back to the house!” Xander suddenly exclaimed.

“What?”

“Go!”

He took off before she even

“Hey!” Jude yelled, “get back here you cheat!”

And then she started sprinting.

***

She still beat Xander in the race, catching up to him easily. He was right, laser tag had been a good distraction, but what now? Now showered and in a fresh set of clothes Jude retreated to her favourite of the libraries in the house for a bit of quiet.

She needed some peace with her own mind and thoughts. Halfway through the second paragraph of the page, Nash sauntered in hands in his pockets and cowboy hat tilted forwards. Jude looked up to meet him, something about his eyes looked sad and hollow. That made her feel a little sad and hollow.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He sat down across from her, “you look tired.”

“Xander managed to get me to play three round of laser tag,” she replied, with a small yawn, “that might have something do with it.”

He chuckled softly, “only our Xand.”

Pain flickered across his face for the fraction of a second, if Jude had blinked, she would’ve missed it. She hummed in reply to his comment, eyes flicking between him and the page of her book.

She paused and shut the book, “are you okay Nash?”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, hoarsely, like something had caught in his throat.

“Are you sure?” Jude pressed on.

Nash nodded, “of course I am.”

He wasn’t. Everyone knew it. Ever since his break up with Alisa he’d been a mess. Obviously no one saw what a mess he was but they could feel it. It didn’t feel like Nash was walking into a room, rather a mass of mixed up emotions.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “were you looking for someone?”

“Not in particular,” he shrugged, “I like this library.”

“Me too,” she replied quietly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Nash surveyed the book shelves, his fingers running down spines of well loved books until the right one caught his eye.

“Try this,” he said, handing Jude a book.

She looked down, Amerika by Franz Kafka. Slowly she took the book from his hands and traced her hands across the cover.

“I believe it’s one of his first books,” Nash said, “you’ll like it trust me.”

“How do you know?” she wondered aloud.

“Because I have a tendency to observe people and based on previous reads,” he responded, “you’ll like this one.”

“Why’ve you been keeping such a close eye on me?” she raised her eyebrows looking at his quizzically.

“You’re my little sister at heart,” Nash told her softly, “how could I not?”

Jude’s heart squeezed. She���d always seen Nash as a role model, an older brother, but she’d never expected him to think the same of her.

“Thanks Nash,” she smiled.

“Don’t thank me kid,” he said, grabbing a book with an emerald cover and sitting in a leather armchair.

After a while she felt Nash’s eyes on her and looked up.

“What’s the question that you’re burning to ask me?” she shut her book, “just ask it.”

He sighed and paused for a long thoughtful while, “I’ll cut to the chase. Are you and Jamie a thing?”

“What? No!” Jude exclaimed quickly, too quickly, too defensively “I mean no, we’re just friends, just friends.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.

“Just friends,” she clarified.

He raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned.”

“You and Alisa broke up,” she blurted out, every compassionate, apologetic sentence she’d wanted to start with slipping through her finger faster than water.

“I know,” Nash said quietly, “I was sort of there.”

“Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Thanks kid,” he nodded sharply, inhaling unevenly.

Jude groaned and put her head in her hands, “that came out all wrong.”

“I figured,” Nash responded, cracking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She sighed. She knew she had to ask. She had a feeling she also knew the answer. As she looked him in the eye, he predicted what she was going to say, yet still let her ask.

“Are you leaving again?”

“For a bit,” he murmured, looking at his cowboy boots, “yeah, need space, air, these place suffocates me too much, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jude mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” he said sadly before he paused for a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Take care of him for me, okay?” Jude knew in an instant, he was talking about Jameson, “all of them.”

“Of course,” she said softly.

He took her small hands and clasped them between his calloused ones. Nash looked her in the eye as he told her, “you’re the strongest one of us, kid.”

“Nash,” she murmured, tears welling up, “will you ever come back?”

“I always come back,” he promised silently.

“So did you really come here to say goodbye?” Jude said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Yes and no,” he replied, as confusing as ever, as Hawthorne as ever.

“Bye Nash,” she whispered, her voice barely a sound.

“Goodbye J,” Nash said, pulling her into his arms, “I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” she murmured into his chest, inhaling his scent for the last time, she realised, in a while probably.

Nash was a constant, in a sea of madness, he was the rock that refused to erode. And now he was leaving because if he stayed he would break. He’d rather be broken far away and come back fixed than break here. Jude knew that. She wished she didn’t understand. Then she could be mad and this whole goodbye would be easier. But Jude had never been at goodbyes.

“Not possible, kid,” he said tenderly, kissing the top of her head.

He let her go, before squeezing her shoulders. With one final very cowboy nod, he began to walk away and she watched him with glossy eyes and a full heart.

“Oh and Jude,” he said spinning around.

“Yeah?”

“By the time I’m back you two better be going out,” Nash winked.

“Nash we’re just-“

“Friends,” he murmured, “I know.”

Then he left.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

She’d watched as the motorbike had pulled out of Hawthorne House and driven down the rode. She’d watched as he’d paused at the gate to take on final look behind. She’d watched as Nash, with a single bag and his cowboy hat had left. This was gong to be hard on all of the brothers, Jude knew that as well as anyone.

But still, the next day, a sadness weighed on her own chest. Nash was gone and might be for a while. The reality only just seemed to be sinking in. She slowly focused her attention to her book, not the one Nash recommended her but another. She wanted to save that one for when she needed Nash, so it would remind her of him.

“What you reading?”

It made her jump but she suppressed any reaction. She didn’t expect anyone to be there but she knew to voice all too well. It sent a tingle down her spine.

“A book,” she replied, not tearing her eyes from its contents.

“What book?” Jameson said from behind her.

“The metamorphosis,” she told him, closing it to reveal the cover.

“Franz Kafka?” He asked, walking around to sit next to her.

Her eyes lit up suddenly, “you’ve read it?”

“You sound surprised,” he laughed.

“Not surprised,” she said, “just shocked.”

“That’s a synonym of surprised,” he teased, ruffling the hair on the top of her head.

“Excited then,” she corrected, pushing his hand away, “now I have someone to talk about it to.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, an overcast of seriousness shadowing his expression, “Nash recommended him to me too.”

“How did you…” she trailed off, “why are you back so late anyway?”

“Detention,” Jameson replied.

Jude wasn’t exactly surprised that Jameson had gotten a detention, it wasn’t uncommon. She was more surprised that he actually went, something was up.

“You never go to your detentions,” she murmured, slowly pressing him to reveal what he was hiding.

He shrugged his shoulders, his face betraying nothing of his feelings, “I felt like it.”

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked softly, touching the top of his arm.

He looked down to her fingers, “what do you mean?”

He tried to play it off as if it meant nothing but she’d known him too long to fall for it.

“There’s something on your mind,” she said quietly, looking into his hurt green eyes.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, some note in his voice a little strained, almost hoarse.

“A few things,” she replied.

“What things?”

Jude raised an eyebrow, “you want the list?”

“Desperately,” he replied, the ghost of a smile tingling on his lips .

“Well, if you must know, your stance is different your weight was more forwards it’s usually slightly more upright, but when something bothers you, you hunch over in the slightest way. You keep fiddling with things, your own hands, the cushion, my hair, the hem of your shirt. Your focus is shifting from anything but your problem and you keep making mindless conversation with me to distract yourself, but it’s not working. You never go to your detentions and suddenly you turn up to one and…” she paused wondering if she should say it aloud, then channelled her inner Xander and recalled his life motto: yolo, “…and your eyes looked sad, hollow almost, it’s hard to explain, they just looked like you were in pain.”

“Very observant of you Judy,” he said, eyes pinned to hers, almost captivated by something. He was trying to keep up his usual banter but it wasn’t getting past her. She knew him too well.

She didn���t tell him not to call her Judy, like he wanted her to. Instead she got straight to the point. No more distractions, no more detours, it was time to face the truth.

“It’s about Nash isn’t it,” she sighed.

“That obvious,” he mumbled, forcing a small chuckle to push down the wave of pain.

“It was an educated guess,” she murmured, trying to make him feel a little better. That was a lie. She could see it on his face but he didn’t have to know that.

“It feels like I’ve lost a piece of myself without him you know,” he admitted, finding the material of the sofa far more interesting than looking directly at Jude for the moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, letting him continue.

“You can’t build a house without a foundation, it’ll collapse,” he sniffed, “and Nash is our foundation.”

“And he still is,” she reassured him, slowly interlocking her fingers into his, “just from a distance now.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, gripping her tightly in need of the comfort.

“You think if you needed him he wouldn’t be back in a heartbeat?” Jude asked.

“I know he would but I don’t know…” he trailed off, lost in a world of his own thoughts, “…I just hate it when he leaves.”

“He’s going through something,” she said, “he needs time.”

“I know,” Jameson muttered.

“And he doesn’t handle it like you or Gray or Xand,” she continued, “he handles it like this.”

“I wish he didn’t,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Do you?” Jude said softly, “wouldn’t it be more chaotic if he got reckless like you or shut down like Gray, hid it with a smile like Xand,” she sighed, “Nash knows how to manage his feelings, he needs to feel freer, this house hasn’t exactly always been a home to him.”

“You’re right,” he said quietly.

Jameson wasn’t one to admit that easily. Jude knew that. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes speaking volumes to him in the silence. She tried to read his face.

“But you’re still doubting something,” she picked up, almost immediately.

“How can you tell?” he asked, worming his way around the question first before answering it.

“I can just see,” she shrugged.

“I’m…” he trailed off, the words lodged in his throat. He didn’t want to say them out loud, it made them more real.

Jude waited silently until he was ready, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m scared he won’t come back,” Jameson finally said.

“He will come back,” Jude replied, her voice strong and sure, “he always comes back.”

“What if he doesn’t this time?” he asked, worry lines rippling across his face.

It almost scared Jude. She wasn’t used to seeing him so vulnerable, so emotional. It had shocked her he hadn’t done something utterly reckless yet, like sky diving or bungee jumping. Usually it would’ve happened by now, but instead he was here, with her, actually talking out his problems. What did that mean?

“You know Nash better than I do,” Jude said slowly, “you know in your heart he’s coming back, just like I do.”

“There’s always that bit of fear in me though, the dreaded ‘what if’ he decides not to,” Jameson replied.

“He wouldn’t abandon you Jamie,” she soothed, the nickname rolling off of her tongue naturally, “he loves you.”

Just like I do, she thought, but the words didn’t dare near her lips.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After talking to Jameson, Jude had checked on Xander who was also down about Nash leaving. He wasn’t in the mood for much. Seeing Xander so sad made Jude sad too. He wouldn’t even eat a scone which got to Jude the most. Eventually after a lot of coaxing and scone concoctions, she managed to get him to have one but usually it was a given he would.

It was strange. The whole thing. Hawthorne house was deadened without Nash, all the brothers had retreated to themselves and gone quiet. Grayson had disappeared to the music room playing emotional pieces on his violin, Jude felt it was best not to interrupt him in that state. He hadn’t come out in hours and the violin hadn’t stopped once. She wondered if his fingers were bleeding, so left him some food and water and a packet of bandaids outside the door, just in case.

The next morning she set her alarm to wake up early. She had a netball match, first thing. Part of her didn’t want to leave the brothers on their own but she realised she could only do so much when she was at the house anyway.

She figured they might want time to themselves or time to talk with one another about the situation. So she decided to play in her match. After a soothing, long shower, she did her morning skin care before slipping on her netball dress. She walked back into her bedroom standing infront of the mirror to begin on her hair.

***

Jude groaned in frustration, starting the braid again for the fifth time. Why wasn’t it working this morning? Of course it just had to go wrong the day she actually needed it braided out of the way.

“Let me braid it.”

She gasped softly upon seeing Jameson leaning in her doorway, silently watching her.

“What?”

“Let me braid it,” he repeated. She couldn’t detect any hints that he was joking about the prospect.

“How long have you been standing there?” she countered.

“Not long,” Jameson shrugged.

“That’s a little creepy,” she told him, looking back to the mirror as she ran her finger through her wavy hair.

“Well how else am I going to keep you on your toes,” he winked, “now are you going to let me braid your hair?”

“You know how to braid hair?” she folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows.

“I have a lot of free time,” he shrugged.

“You’re surprising me more and more every day Jameson Hawthorne,” she smiled gently.

With a smirk he stepped in towards her back, “well what else am I here for?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his reflection in the mirror stood in front of them both even when his breath tickled her neck.

“French or Dutch?”

She spun around to face him suddenly, “are you serious?”

He gave her a confused look.

“You know how to French and Dutch braid hair,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, “it’s like a pattern, a puzzle, something to solve.”

“Okay then,” she thought for a minute, “french.”

“Turn around then Judy,” he said, raising her arm above her head and spinning her around as if she were a ballerina.

“Jude,” she hissed, glaring at the mirror so he could see the reflection.

“Hairbrush,” he said.

“Is that a new nickname?” she batted her eyelashes, “very cute.”

“No, I need the hairbrush,” he rolled his eyes, holding his hand out.

She passed it to him before he gently picked up a piece of hair and began to brush it from bottom up. He took each and every section and handled it with the upmost care, like each stand of hair was made of glass.

“Your hair is really soft,” he commented, after he’d finished brushing it through.

She felt the heat rise in her cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, “you might want to sit down for the actual braiding part.”

She nodded and took a seat on the floor, just below her bed. He sat behind her and slowly began to pick up the first bits of hair needed. Carefully and neatly he twisted the pieces into place. Jude could feel that he was doing it exactly right, adding the right sections at the right times. She’d never thought of a braid a puzzle before, but now she supposed it was. The twists and turns of intricacy, one wrong move and the whole thing would lose its effect.

It was so relaxing for Jude, for someone else to do her hair. It was a nice change from her arms burning and her head aching every morning. Best thing was, Jameson knew exactly what he was doing and he was someone making it comfortable for her head. Usually she’d pull one strand too hard and it’d give her a headache but that hadn’t happened so far.

“Do you have a hair tie?” he asked, once he’d gotten to the bottom.

She passed him the one from around her wrist, before grabbing the ribbons on her team colours.

“Could you tie these in the bottom too?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, taking them and putting them into the bottom of the braid, “okay go and see if you like it, I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

She grinned walking into her mirror to admire the plait. It was near on perfect and it looked so much better than her five previous attempts put together. She walked back towards him.

“It’s amazing thank you so much!” she smiled, instinctively wrapping her arms around him to give a grateful hug without actually realising what she was doing.

Though when she did, she didn’t pull away.

“Careful,” he rushed, “we haven’t hair-sprayed it.”

“Is Grayson rubbing off on you?” Jude teased, with a giggle.

“Don’t insult me,” he deadpanned, “I just did your hair.”

“My humblest apologies,” she bowed, mockingly.

“Gratefully accepted,” he nodded at her, grabbing the hairspray bottle, “right, close your eyes.”

She did as he said before he sprayed her hair so it stayed in, setting his masterpiece in stone before she washed it out later.

“Perfect,” he smiled, as she opened her eye again, “you look perfect.”

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he coughed, “I meant your hair.”

Something sunk, it just plummeted right into her stomach. She felt heavy with disappointment and mentally scolded herself for it.

“Are you only saying that because you can credit yourself?” she played it off as a joke to mask her true feelings.

“Possibly,” Jameson replied, his face slowly breaking out into a grin.

She laughed sideglancing at the clock, “I need to make sure I’ve got everything before I leave, I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come to your game?” he asked suddenly.

She stopped mid step and spun around.

“You want to?” she said.

“Of course I do,” Jameson replied, as if it were an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly, “sure.”

He’d seen her play before, just not recently. Something about that made Jude nervous but more driven to win, not just for herself and her team but to make Jameson proud too.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

She laughed melodically, “you are such a gentleman.”

“What can I say Judy,” he replied with a wink, stepping closer to her.

“Jude,” she corrected him, stepping in as well.

“Judy,” he smirked back.

“Jude.”

“Judy.”

“You won’t win,” she whispered, fierceness in her eyes.

“Try me,” he murmurs back, mischief in his.

Their faces were so close, that their noses almost touched. His eyes looked down at her lips and flicked back up again. Before she knew it they were both leaning in. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, screaming to be heard. Was this moment really what she thought it was?

“We should go,” Jude cleared her throat, pulling away, “don’t want to be late,”

“Yeah,” Jameson nodded slowly, picking up her bags for her.

And Jude could’ve sworn his cheeks were suddenly a little rosy.

***

Jude cursed herself for pulling away and for the whole journey thought about what could’ve been. However when she got to the venue she had to put all those thoughts aside to play.

The match went well, better than well actually, her team won and her play was excellent. After she’d said goodbye to her teammates she met Jameson who enveloped her into a hug, picking her up and spinning her around, telling her how amazingly she’d played. Jude can’t remember a time where she’d felt more special. He always made her feel like she was the brightest star in an ebony sky.

On the car ride home, the two of them just discussed her game and he let her rant about all the things she felt she could’ve done better before he pointed out some of things she’d done excellently. By the time they got back to Hawthorne House, they’d pretty much dissected the whole game about a thousand times over. But Jude didn’t mind and from the smile of his face, neither did Jameson.

As soon as they got in the two of them went straight to the freezer to grab a well-deserved ice pop.

“Icepop berry for mon chérie,” he winked, with the most awful French accent Jude had ever heard.

She physically cringed, taking it from his hand, “that one was horrible, please never say that again.”

“It sounded better in my head,” he sighed, grabbing a blue raspberry one for himself.

“You butchered that accent,” she snorted.

“Leave me alone,” he complained.

“Hey you’re back! How was your game,” Xander asked walking in.

“Good,” Jude nodded with a smile.

“Good is an understatement,” Jameson scoffed, “Judy played amazingly.”

“It wasn’t that good,” she rolled her eyes, he made her sound like some kind of netball prodigy.

“Xand she was lightning fast,” he explained.

“I bet,” Xander grinned, helping himself to a cola ice pop.

“And her interceptions were killer!” he added.

“Not really,” Jude interjected.

“Passes were legendary,” Jameson just continued.

“He’s over exaggerating,” she rolled her eyes, “surprise, surprise.”

“The best wing attack to ever exist,” he said.

“Okay, that is a stretch now,” she laughed.

“You’re too modest,” he replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Her face glowed as she felt an electrical jolt when he touched her, a spark of sorts. She wondered if he’s felt it too, but if he had, he didn’t show it.

“We should celebrate,” Xander announced.

“I agree,” he nodded.

“Oh but would you look at the time!” His brother continued, eyeballing his watch as if he’d never seen it before, “I haven’t blown anything up yet today, off I go.”

Xander practically skipped out of the kitchen door, though just before he turned he snuck Jude a wink to which she almost face palmed right there and then.

“Just us then, I guess,” Jameson said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, eating some more of her ice pop that was slowly melting in her hands. It made her feel like a little girl again.

He looked down at her, staring for a little bit as his lips parted slightly, “want to go somewhere?”

“That depends,” she smiled playfully, “where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, “get changed and meet me down here in half an hour.”

“That smirk is saying all the wrong things to me,” she replied, “what are you planning Jameson Hawthorne?”

He shrugged and with a wink, left.

WELLL THATS A WRAP FOR PART ONE… HERE’S THE LINK GO PART 2 💘💖💕😍💖🥰💗 https://www.tumblr.com/littlemissmentallyunstable/770127988151992320/inmyheaddd-hellooo-again-judeee-welcome-to

[spadecentral]

🍪 Bet On the Teleportation | Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade

>> event: race for the cookie cup by @theolivetree123 >> a/n: i got so excited to write this and now im scared to post it, but also this fan event is so cool yall should go check it out!!!

>> masterlist: twst >> summary: bets are stupid, but ace and deuce make one anyway >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): you are referred to as [name]

When the eight of you land inside the video game that Ace and Deuce were just competing over, you sigh. It's a nightmare already to keep Grim from eating anything, but now with the giant candies it's going to be hellish.

"What did you do, Juice?" Ace is peeved at Deuce, despite neither of them doing anything to trigger this kind of glitch.

Idia shivers momentarily, but you think it's just a cold front running down his spine and disregard it.

"There is no way you're gonna blame this on me!" Deuce responds. "If anything, you did it! Did you see how hard you were gripping the joystick?"

"No I didn't, because all I could see was my racecar ahead of yours!"

"[Name], what do you think?" Ace huffs, turning over to you for an answer.

"Nuh uh," you say as you grip tightly onto Grim's wiggling body. "You two aren't dragging me into this, I told y'all not to make that bet."

"Okay your opinion is void now," Ace rolls his eyes.

"Stop looking for pity points when you know I'm right," Deuce crosses his arms. "And I was beating you, not the other way around."

"Mhm, that's not what the pixels on that stupid screen were showing me," Ace retaliates, the sass in his voice unimaginable.

"Can you two please make up so we can get out of here," you groan.

"There's no way I'm making up with the person who got us here!" Deuce frowned.

"I am not gonna just reconcile with this dumbass!" Ace practically shouted.

"There has to be a way for the two of you to duke it out here so we can get on with it," Silver finally speaks up, over the initial stupor of teleportation.

All of the sudden, horns sound.

"All rise for our ruler, King Candy!" a guard yelled.

Finally looking anywhere other than the red- and blue-haired boys, you finally take in your surroundings and clothes fully. Racing attire? you question to yourself as a royal-looking man comes into view.

"Strange people of far-away lands!" he yells out. "I hear your need for justice and wish to hand it to you. Your need for a true winner resounds well in my heart, and I therefore grant you my honor in racing to victory! You may gather two teams—since there are so many of you—and compete in a race! Then you will know who the real winner is!"

"See, there we go," Ace says.

"There is no way..." you can hear Idia mumbling in the back.

"Alright! Let's get to it!" Deuce calls out, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

You frown, knowing the competitive nature of the both of them would probably do more hurt than good in the the long run. But who are you to stop them, they're teenage boys for Seven's sakes.

>> ace and deuce taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @strawberry-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @wisteriainslumber

@villaim | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie-archived | @divinesapph

@ze-maki-nin | @ezr4n | @l1vyatan | @savanaclaw1996 | @enigmatic-pers

@queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @monochromepalette | @she-wont-miss

[dwaekkicidal]

After Last Night

˚ʚI.N x Bang Chanɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: After an incident with Chan at the onsen, Jeongin realizes that he's not as small down there as he thought he was.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~3.1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: MxM content, bottom!Chan, top!I.N, big dick jeongin 😼, shy & lowkey pervy Chan, kinda cocky Jeongin?, sex in a public place but nobody sees or hears them (or do they?)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: I know I previously said I probably wouldn’t write “full” mxm content but max corrupted me (whats new) and I went a little feral.. Hehe. so I changed my mind; ill write it but it wont happen very often! :3

if you dont like this stuff then simply don't interact! also block the tag "#mxm" so you never see it from me <3

This was a lil collab I did with @chvnmax :3 go read her Felix ✗ I.N version!!

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

All members of Stray Kids were currently in Japan for a MV shooting. The day prior to the shooting they agreed to check into an onsen to unwind a little. They generally headed to the group-assigned onsen in pairs, but Jeongin was anxious to join them so it took him a little longer and he decided to walk alone. It wasn’t exactly that he was scared of being fully naked in front of the entire group, since they had all lived together at one point and they would all be naked anyways. It was more so the nervousness of one of his more recent body growths.

Over the years he had grown used to seeing the other men half-naked, but within the last year or so he realized that his lower area had grown quite a lot. The mixture working out and finally growing out of puberty had paid off, in ways that he wasn’t even aware that would be affected. He assumed that his hyungs would have had similar growths to him, and that he would still be smallest among them, like he was all those years ago. While he knew that nobody would make fun of him or point it out, he couldn’t help but be anxious at the thought of lingering eyes.

This is all the maknae could think about as he walked down the hallway, fiddling with the strings on his robe with each step. In no time he was at the makeshift fabric door, so he took a few breaths before stepping through and following the curved hallway to the outdoor, yet private, pool of water. He watched as a few heads turned to smile at him, some even beckoning him over before turning back around. When he thought no eyes were on him he slid off his robe and speed walked his way to the edge of the water, where a dry small towel waited for him. Of course it being courtesy of the dad of the group, making sure everyone was taken care of.

Speaking of the male, Jeongin watched from the corner of his eye as Chan’s eyes followed his movement, his jaw dropped a little in what Jeongin assumed (hoped) was awe. When he sat at the edge of the water and dipped his legs in, he finally turned to meet the eldest’s eyes. They both watched as each other’s cheeks heated up, and Chan blinked a few times before gulping visibly and sending the younger a shy smile. He bashfully mouthed a ‘sorry’ before turning around and splashing his face with water.

‘Not the kind of lingering eyes I expected…’ Jeongin thought to himself as he sank the rest of his body into the water, sighing happily at the warmth. As he felt his body relax, Jeongin's own eyes trailed around. He spared a few glances at his members before letting his eyes trail lower on some. He felt a little weird about it, but his curiosity got the best of him and he was desperate for some soothing thoughts.

He quickly looked at the roof before blinking a few times, not sure if what he was seeing was being altered by the water or if he was actually bigger than the hyungs he saw. He let the idea marinate in his head as he made himself focus on the conversation he was being pulled into.

After soaking in the warm water for a few hours, the boys got out and headed to their rooms in pairs again. This went on until eventually it was just Chan and Jeongin in the pool. Chan was leaned on the tiled edge with his head laid back and arms spread, as Jeongin sat on the staircase a few feet from him in a similar position.

Jeongin found himself watching water drip down the older’s handsome features, ogling at how sexy the man looked in the water. He always knew his hyungs were good looking, but seeing him this bare with water dripping down his body had blood rushing to his dick. He always had a little crush on his Channie-hyung, but he thought that as he grew older and as the dorms changed, his feelings would too.

He opted to lay his head back as well, taking deep breaths to try and calm the sudden heaviness between his legs. As he did so, Chan’s ears picked up what he thought was a heavy sigh of stress, so he naturally picked his head up to check on the maknae. When his eyes opened he was met with a drool worthy sight, the other boy dripping with water as his toned chest rose and fell. He couldn’t help as his eyes dipped lower, landing on the long and hard length that was out in the open as the younger sat with spread legs. He gulped again and bit his lip, zoning out slightly and trying to stop himself from drooling over his member’s penis size.

Suddenly remembering his goal, he ripped his eyes away and opened his mouth to speak. Though he quickly cut himself off when his eyes met the fox-like ones of the younger man. He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head before mumbling out another “Sorry…”

“Listen, hyung, I know I might be a little smaller than you guys but you don’t have to stare..” Jeongin mumbled out, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

“Oh- Jeongin.. that’s not… what I was staring for… Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the reason I was staring” Chan nervously replied, taking a sudden interest in the leaves on the other side of the water. Anything to avoid his gaze.

“It’s not? Then why?”

“Haha… Jeongin.. You’re not exactly ‘small,’ man. I don’t know where you got that from. You’re probably the biggest out of all of us.” Chan laughed out, returning his gaze back to the younger and watching as his eyes widened. He tilted his head and laughed again, suddenly not feeling as embarrassed, “What? You thought that you were actually smaller than us? You’re fucking huge, mate. Seriously..”

Jeongin chuckled to himself but quickly got lost in thought as he watched the older boy rise up out of the water. He unintentionally caught sight of the other's length and realized he wasn’t lying, making him feel much better but a little flustered.

“Is that the reason you were staring?” He finally asked, watching as Chan walked over to the bench with his robe on it. He watched his shoulders tense up at the question, sitting in silence for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before he picked up his things and finally responded. “I mean…. Yeah?... Yes and no..” Jeongin let out a confused ‘Huh?’ at the statement, but before he could question him further Chan spoke out again. “Anyways… sorry about that… You should get out soon, it’s late and we have to be up early for the recording.” he said loudly as he wrapped himself in his robe and quickly left.

Jeongin watched as he walked out, the words hung for a while in the thick air before he eventually dragged himself out the water, heading to his own room to end his night.

The night passed fast and Jeongin quickly found himself in the junkyard with his other members. They’re dressed in more casual, black clothing and are running around being their loud, chaotic selves. After a few hours of shooting, the director called for a lunch break and said to return in an hour and a half. Some people left to find a local restaurant while others, namely the members and their manager, ordered for delivery. They ran around and played like children as Chan called the order in.

Jeongin was lost in thought as this went on. Throughout the shooting, he felt Chan’s eyes lingering on him. But anytime he would turn his head to meet his eyes, he would be met with Chan’s neck basically breaking as it snapped around, leaving nothing but his red ears and the back of his head being visible. This happened multiple times throughout the morning, so when the other members sat with each other to eat, Jeongin pulled him to the side to question him.

“Channie-hyung, are you okay? I’m sorry if last night made you uncomfortable.” Chan watched as a head or two turned when they overheard the question and he suddenly felt super nervous. He grumbled to himself as he grabbed the younger’s wrist and pulled him away, leading him between the cars to a more private area where prying ears and eyes couldn’t eavesdrop.

“Hey… nothing’s wrong, I’m sorry. I just have been a little distracted and I just so happen to keep zoning out while looking at you.” He finally responded, ears still bright red.

Jeongin let out a giggle at the statement, “Hyung… is my dick size that distracting?”

“What? N-No that’s not what-”

“Why else would you zone out looking at me so much? Especially after last night.” He said, taking a step closer. Chris sputtered as if he was tongue tied and took steps back until he felt his ass meet the trunk of a car. Jeongin smirked and with this new confidence, he stepped forward to close the distance between them. “You sure you’re okay, Hyung? You seem a little red in the face.” He asked with faux concern and an eyebrow raise. “Or maybe,  just maybe, all those long stares and lingering touches from you over the years weren’t a figment of my imagination? Hm?” He teased, ending his sentence with a head tilt as he leaned more into Chris. With his hands caging the shorter man, Jeongin could feel pride swelling in his chest at how flustered he managed to get his hyung.

“Iyen-ah..” Chris started, his eyes darting everywhere but the boy in front of him, “We shouldn’t talk about this here… let’s wait until we get back home, yeah?”

“Mmmm... normally I’d listen to you, hyung. But something’s poking against me right now and I really don’t think it’s the sushi rolls we ordered.” Jeongin slotted his leg between Chris’ thighs as he finished his sentence, pushing it into his bulge and biting his lip at the whimper he got in return. “Oh hyung… you’re a really bad liar haha.. If you like me that much just say so. I know I like you that much. Just look at how hard I am too.” Hearing this, Chris looked down and almost moaned at the sight of the younger’s bulge. His long dick was so obvious even through the black jeans he wore. Feeling his self control break at the seems, he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “My feelings don’t matter here, I have to be a good hyung and a good leader to my members. It’s my responsibility.”

“A ‘good hyung’..? Ahh. But. A ‘good hyung’ would help his members out, right? As should a ‘good maknae’. So let’s take care of each other. We can talk more tonight at the hotel or once we’re home, like you said.” Jeongin whispered into his ear, his hand slowly trailing from the spot on the car, to Chris’ hips, before finally grabbing at his bulge and palming it. “Or. If you don’t want this, you tell me now and we move on. Act like nothing happened... Deal?” The man under him moaned quietly at the contact before biting his lip trying to stay silent. After a few seconds he finally looked up to the boy and nodded. ‘Fuck why does he feel so tall all of the sudden.’

“Words, hyung.” Jeongin said sternly, tightening his grip before letting go completely and playing with the zipper on his pants.

“Fuck. Yes, Jeongin, please touch me.” He whined out, feeling embarrassed at the disparity in his voice, though this feeling was quickly forgotten once his pants were undone and pulled down his hips alongside his boxers. They lingered at his thighs as Jeongin’s big hand grabbed at his length, pumping it as he pulled his own jeans and boxers down. Their dicks stood against each other as Jeongin gathered his saliva, spitting it onto where their dicks met and pumping them together. His hand almost completely covered their combined width, and the sight had Chan whimpering with his head thrown back.

Jeongin’s hand grabbed his chin and pulled them to be face to face, lips mere inches from each other. He gave it a few seconds to let him pull away if he didn’t want it, but when Chan’s head leaned forward, his quickly followed. Their lips met in a sloppy kiss and they moaned into each other's mouth with every pump from Jeongin.

Once he felt himself getting close and the suddenly shaky legs from the other man, Jeongin’s movements slowed down almost completely and he pulled away from the kiss, panting as their foreheads stayed connected. “How far are we going, hyung? You gonna let me fuck you here, against this car, or should we end it fast and go back to the others?”

“God.. fuck me please..” He moaned in response as his hips bucked into Jeongin’s hand, desperate for a faster pace. His hand pulled away completely and he was swiftly turned around. Jeongin’s clean hand rested between his shoulder blades and pushed him down onto the car as he hissed at the cold metal.

“Let me get you ready then, yeah? Fucking you raw is one thing, but fucking you unprepared is a whole other one.” He said breathlessly as his hands spread Chan’s ass cheeks, thumb teasing his hole. He spat once more, directly aiming for it and rubbing it in with his thumb before his pointer finger finally pushed in.

“You don’t have to do much… fucked myself last night a little bit…” Chan groaned against the car. Jeongin’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he realized he wasn’t kidding. His finger moved around with no resistance and he moaned at the sight of his 2nd finger pushing in, being met with barely any resistance.

“Fuck.. hyung..” He whined, “What, did you fuck yourself with your fingers at the thought my dick?” When the older only answered with a muffled moan into his jacket, he couldn’t help moan at the thought and add a third finger into the mix, finally feeling more resistance.

After a short time of stretching him out, Jeongin pulled his fingers out and spit a few times on his own dick, rubbing it in and trying to make it as wet as possible. After teasing Chan’s hole for too long and getting an annoyed ‘Jeongin..” from the man below him, he finally pushed inside.

“Ugh… stretch you out with 3 fingers and you’re still so tight.. Relax, hyung. Nobody’s gonna catch us I promise..”

After giving him time to adjust and relax, Jeongin gave some test thrusts. He grinned at the desperate moans falling out the other’s thick lips and set a nice pace. Once he heard his name in between moans, it only spurred him on. He grabbed Chan by his shoulder, pulling him back to chest with himself and speeding up his pace. With this position, he easily pounded into the older’s prostate, and it was made pretty obvious by the whiny moans he was starting to hear.

“Hah.. You’re so loud, hyung. The others are gonna hear you if you’re not careful.” He teased, lifting his hand to hold a palm over Chan’s mouth. “I know it feels good but if somebody finds out, we’re gonna have to stop. And you don’t want that, do you?” When the older man whined into his hand and shook his head, he chuckled to himself and kept up the pace. He kept it just fast enough to faintly hear their skin slapping together but not enough so that their members could hear it.

Trying to keep himself quiet, Jeongin nibbled and left kisses against his throat, leading them up to his jawline. He bit a little too hard after Chan tightened suddenly and he heard a loud moan against his hand. He smirked against the skin and found himself biting more often and harder each time. It wasn’t long before the grip around his dick was tighter and more frequent, so Jeongin removed his hands to push him back against the car. They quickly planted themselves on both sides of his hips as he sped up his thrusts, pounding into the man below him at a rougher pace.

For a while, his eyes were trained at the area they connected, but a sudden movement caught his eye and he forced himself to look away. He was met with the sight of Chris’ cheek being squished against the trunk, one hand spread out against the metal as the other rested near his face. His eyes focused on the teeth locked onto his finger and the drool falling against the metal of the trunk.

He moaned at the sight and leaned forward with newfound vigor, reaching one of his hands beneath them to stroke Chan's length. Within seconds Chan's cumming, shooting onto the pebble-ridden dirt as his hand moved to completely cover his mouth, desperate to hide his loud whines. After finishing him off, Jeongin pulled his hand away and made a show to lick up the bits that his fingers came into contact with.

Chris would’ve moaned at the sight if it weren’t for the new, bullying, pace that the maknae set.

“F-Fuck Jeongin, I can’t a-anymore-” He moan-whispered, trying to keep quiet while the gummy spot in him got roughly pounded.

“I k-know hyung.. Just a little longer I promise. Let me use you for a second, okay?” When the older nodded and bit into his palm, Jeongin leaned back and reveled in the constant tightness around his dick. By the time Chan was almost crying at the combined stimulation and pace, Jeongin was finally cumming, opting to pull out and push Chan further against the car so that neither of their clothes got dirty. He let out low moans as he fisted himself through his high, unconsciously massaging the hip where his free hand rested.

As the last spurts hit the ground, they heard a distant voice calling for them: “Channie-hyung! Iyen-ah! Shooting continues in 10!”

They both took a few minutes to catch their breaths as Jeongin pulled both of their pants back up, even fixing Chan’s shirt from where it had risen slightly. Their eyes met and Chan laughed in disbelief. “Sorry hyung, I got a little carried away.”  Still a little out of breath, the older took a deep breath before replying, “Yeah… we both did… I promise we’ll talk about this properly later tonight.”

With a nod from the younger, they fixed their posture and started heading out of the cubby area. Before they would be in line of sight of the other members, Chan pulled Jeongin by his collar into another kiss. One that was way less sloppy and way more passionate than the first. Before it got too heated they pulled away from each other, sharing a smile before returning to the rest of the group.

They both reluctantly continued shooing hungry, thankful for the water they were offered at least. But with the newfound feeling in their stomachs and the common stares they gave each other, neither of them could really find it in them to complain.

[irl-w0lverine]

do you write for austin sommers? i’d love a period sex austin fic if it’s something your comfortable with <3

October 2nd - austin sommers smut

Pairing : Austin sommers x reader

Warnings : period oral, just periods in general, consumption of period blood

A/n : some people might find this disgusting but austin has needs too 🤷‍♀️ also day 1 of my october fics! (posting a fic every other day)

"hey.. You alright?" you hear Austin ask, your body curled up as your cramps kick your ass.

"mhm" is all you manage to grunt. "im fine.. Just cramps"

"well.. Y'know... I heard that orgasming can help like... Soothe them.. Or whatever" he says, trying to seem nonchalant. "and you know me.. I have needs too"

You can see the cheeky smirk set on his lips, imediately knowing what hes thinking of.

"but theres gonna be alot of blood... I dont want you to get... Messy" you had a thing for overdramatising stuff and austin knew. But that wouldn't stop him from shutting you up with a deep kiss.

"just shut up and let me work my magic" he whispers in your ear, his lips trailing down your neck.

His face soon gets to your heat, pulling down your shorts and underwear.

Without a single warning, he connects his mouth to your clit, his tounge occasionally slipping lower and getting teasing tastes of your blood.

".. Mmmmh... This is really what i needed" he mumbles into your pussy, moving his mouth slightly more so hes now just making out with your heat, trying to consume as much of the crimson liquid as he can.

Your hips subtly move against his face, needing more than just gentle movements.

You see him look up at you, smirking with his bloody mouth. "good girl, i promise you'll get what you want.. Just give me a little longer" he mumbles as he slips his tounge inside your hole, teasing you slightly.

"please.. I dont wanna wait any longer..." your eyes meet his, your voice pleading. Your hips are restless againsy his face but finally he gets up, hasily unbuckling his trousers and dropping his boxers to the floor.

"such a shame all this blood is gonna have to go to waste..." he sighs, slowly pushing himself inside you.

His hips begin slowly push his length deeper inside, trying to start off gentle. You can tell it wont last long. He probably wont last long.

As you suspected, his hips begin to snap back and fourth at a fast pace, pausing only to bend you over the bed instead.

You can feel the multiple stinging sensations of the multiple glowing red slap imprints on your backside but it all blends into pleasure soon enough. You begin to follow his thrusts, your legs begining to quiver as you feel the knot forming in your stomach.

Your walls start to contract around his cock, his climax also approaching like an oncumming train.

Not even a minute later, your vocals prouduce a long string of squeaky, whimpery moans. Austin follows along soon after, a few grunts slipping through his lips.

"... Mmm.. You did so good.. I hope my theory was right" he mumbles with a satisfied grin, patting your stomach gently.

God. That's gonna be a mess to clean up.

A/n: ive honestly never written an austin fic let alone read one so im sorry for mischarecterisation! This is also the first fic ive written on the app so im just tryna get used to that

Thanks for reading <3

[heartssatoru]

How about JJK men(Gojo, Megumi, Nanaimo,Itadori and Toge if possible) how they react to a fight with their s/o!

Of course! Toge is also one I can do! Thank you for the request <3

Characters: Gojo, megumi, nanami, itadori, sukuna, and toge!

warnings: none, but angst to fluff, kinda suggestive on sukunas part. Also not proofread!

On request, don't forget to ask if you want fluff, angst, or even smut! I prefer hcs but it's fine if you don't want that, just don't expect much from me on there😭

Also, I noticed that you had put nanami, i don't know at all how to write for him! I'm really sorry, I've rewatched jujutsu kaisen multiple times and I still don't really know😭 please forgive me on that part🙏

Gojo:

Tells you you're being dramatic, which only causes the argument to get worse.

Thinks that he's the one being mature in this argument

He really just wants for this to end, but he doesn't realize he's pissing you off even more

Or maybe he does

Tries to end it, because he hates arguing with you. He always feels guilty

Even if he started it

As soon as you start giving him silent treatment he feels bad

But tries to ignore it because he thinks you'll probably stop

He thinks your gonna end up coming to him

If you don't then he'll whine out apologies, especially if it means no more cuddles for him

If you ignore him more than he's sigh dramatically

Either scoops you up in his arms, or buys you stuff then scoops you up in arms

There's really no way to avoid him😭

Megumi:

Why are you mad at him? Let alone arguing??

kinda just stares at you and stays silent, cause he doesn't know what to say

Also he doesn't want the argument to get worse. So he just stands there

Probably doesn't really care, because he thinks that you'll calm down

If you don't however

He doesn't really know what to do. And is clueless because he doesn't want to upset you even more

Apologizes once and then tries to act like as if nothing happened

You'll let him off this time

Itadori

Says little mean things back, just not really rude. Because he doesn't wanna hurt your feelings

Goofs around especially if he doesn't know why your arguing.

But If your dead serious he'll stop, he doesn't really like seeing you angry

It scares him a bit

Sukuna will probably insult you too but ignore him please 😭

Genuinely will apologize and try to make up because he hates being yelled at

Probably had tears in his eyes when you were yelling

Sukuna:

Laughs at you, whats your problem this time??

Oh what, is it because he's insulting you? Hes just like that

Was it his jokes? Their just jokes, for the time being so why so upset??

Even though he finds it amusing, calm down. Its kinda annoying to him

don't really expect much from this man, most likely puts you in your place before anything else happens

Also because he refuses to take disrespect from a human. Thats disgusting

And if you have the guts to try and argue with him, so be it!

He wont kill you don't worry. Thats far from his mind, but will make you apologize one way or another

Toge:

Feels bad and doesn't know what to do, especially because he can't talk

You guys probably argue on messages or something😭😭

Whatever the reason is he trys to explain

His hands all sweaty and him texting all fast. Tries to get you to feel better on text

Probably spams you with apologies, poor boy. And plus he doesn't like seeing you angry

Gives you personal space, times like these make him feel especially bad because he can't try and talk

And after a bit he'll message you asking you if your okay

If you are he'll take you out because he still feels bad about the argument

Edit: hi! I know some people have liked this post but before so, I put sukuna instead of toge. It was 11PM so I apologize on that part! (I just now realized I didn't do toge and rushed on his part) also my apologies with toge, my auto correct makes his name "together"

[birdiebirdjay]

Trick or treat for fic idea :)

(Ik, Ik, I'm so late with this)

HOLUP IM STARTING THIS WITH 44 MINUTES OF OCTOBER LEFT I GOT THIS I SWEAR (THIS IS BEING WRITTEN ON MOBILE AND PROBABLY ALSO WONT BE PROOFREAD SO BE WARNED KSKDHSKSHSKSH)

also this is mostly percy and penelope at the start but then more oliver bc we heart these three :)) can be read as platonic or romatic or qpr or anything

(uh post writing note i got a bit carried away with this-)

Penelope was sitting against the headboard of Percy's bed, her legs folded under her and a Quidditch magazine in her hands. "Oliver, did you know Merle's retiring?" she asks, her brows furrowing slightly. "She was the-"

Abruptly, she cuts herself off. There was... a weight on her thighs. She looks down, raising an eyebrow when she sees a few locks of red hair under her magazine. She closes it up and stares at Percy, who stares right back.

"What are you doing?" she asks, confused, but she can't hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He's clearly trying much too hard to act casual, looking at a book propped up on his stomach. "Percy, that can't be good for your neck."

"No, it's alright," he says, shrugging a little and shifting about. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Well no, I don't," she rolls her eyes affectionately, running a gentle hand through his hair. "But seriously, I'm afraid you're going to cramp something. Oliver, look, tell him." When she doesn't get a reply, she looks up at Oliver's bed, where she sees him prodding at a whiteboard with his wand and muttering to himself. "Oliver?"

Oliver finally looks up, blinking a few times. "Wha-" he stops, his eyes landing on Percy. Slowly, he starts grinning, an amused and slightly smug little smile. "Percy, you're gonna destroy your neck."

"Oh, shut up about my neck, would you?" Percy grumbles, picking his book up and holding it up in the air instead so his neck is a little straighter. "There, is that better?"

Oliver laughs, setting his things away before flopping down onto Percy's bed. "If you wanted to cuddle, you could have asked," he says, rolling over onto his stomach and poking a now very red-faced Percy in the side.

Percy opens his mouth, then closes it, glaring at Oliver for a moment. He huffs under his breath, putting his book down almost aggressively and rolling onto his stomach as well. "Whatever," he mutters, burying his face into Penelope's stomach. She catches him saying something else, but his voice is muffled by her jumper.

"What was that?" she asks amusedly, shifting a little lower on the bed.

Percy sighs, moving his head to the crook of her neck. He'd probably never admit it, but it was nice, being sandwiched in between the two of them. "'S not usually that simple," he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Penelope and Oliver exchange a confused look. "Not that simple?" Oliver asks, wrapping an arm around Percy. "What do you mean? I mean, you've got tons of siblings, and they're all pretty close."

Percy laughs, a bitter sort of laugh. "Yeah. I mean, close to each other. They're not exactly the cuddling type, though, I don't think."

"Hold on. Close to each other?" Penelope asks, looking down at him. "You said that... weirdly."

"Well... yeah. I mean, they're close to each other. They all sort of go in pairs, but- you know. We have an odd number of siblings."

"Oh."

They're all silent for a few moments. Oliver finally breaks it, resting his forehead against Percy's shoulder. "We're a three. It's a nice odd number, though."

Penelope nods, taking one of Percy's arms and wrapping it around herself. "I like odd numbers anyways. Three is my favorite," she says, leaning down to kiss the top of Percy's head.

"Right. I'm number three on the Quidditch team." Oliver smiles. "And Percy, you're the third sibling in your family!"

Penelope and Oliver continue listing things about the number three, and Percy can't help but laugh. "God, you two are..." he trails off, the words dying on his tongue. Instead, he smiles, kissing Penelope's neck and turning to kiss Oliver's cheek. "Lovable. You two are so damn lovable."

And... thank you. For telling me all I needed to do was ask.

[theyanderebin]

Yantober Day 10! Love Triangle!

This, this got away from me a bit which is why it's being posted four days after or something.

I had these idiots thought up for a while and figured why not use them?! They went running and kept running.

I don't think i've ever managed to write a thing over like max 1.5k words before so this is new!

(As per the usual prompt is from @ozzgin's yantober list which you can find here!)

It's about 3.7k words!

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

You sat in the booth of the diner, scrolling through your phone on a worn seat with a loud pattern. Glancing at the time. He was late. It's only been ten minutes. "Maybe it's just bad traffic.." you thought, reassuring yourself. "Yeah." Putting your phone down, you began to peruse the simple drinks menu, reading each and every option and it's blurb. Your eyes started to dart up at every jingle of the door, your heart sinking a little more each time it wasn't the person you wanted to see. A waitress had come over to ask you if you were ready to order, maybe once or twice. The second time she couldn't even hide the sympathetic look in her eyes and almost a pitying tone. You'd denied both times, as politely as you could. It had been almost half an hour… "Maybe i just order food and get out of here.." Picking up a menu, not even bothering to look up from it's pages at the chime of the door. Or at the swiftly moving sets of footsteps approaching your side of the room.

There was a dull thud on the seat across from you, someone was muttering although you couldn't quite catch the details. Something about not doing that. You looked up to see two dull pink haired men across from you, the slimmer one of the two trying to pull away the other, a frantic look on his face. His distressed hissing stopped quickly when you looked up and he simply stared at you with wide eyes, not unlike a deer in traffic. Rolling his eyes at the man trying to drag him out of his seat. "Would you shut up." "You-" The shorter haired one spat. "Uh… what?" You said in bland confusion. His eyes landed back on you quickly, something about the coldness in them made a shiver creep across your body. "You looked like you needed company, so i came over." He shrugged blandly. "Right… Well i was waiting for someone so.." Glancing in the direction of the open diner floor, silently telling them both to go. "Oh." He leaned on the table long pink hair draping over his shoulder. The other resumed trying to frantically drag him off. hissing out various words of disagreement. "Jesus fucking-" He shoved him off, "Would you piss off? I'm trying to have a conversation!" "Your going to scare them, you asshole." He snapped back, the one visible eye narrowing, the other hidden under a blunt cut fringe. "Just because you're a pussy doesn't mean everyone else is." "You realise nobody talks to you because you're a dick, right?"He really tried to pull him out of the seat this time, it almost worked. "So you can- you can just go home because they wont either. Your conversation isn't going to happen." Your eyes simply darted between them as you sat, pressing yourself further into the cushion of the booth seat while they continued to argue. You probably couldn't get out if you wanted to, you'd have to go past them. Catching bits and pieces of their bickering, you figured out they were brothers. Clearly, they did not get along.

Their argument got the taller of the two quickly kicked, which he audibly seethed about despite the fact he did walk out the door. The man near your table sighed with relief. "Uh- i.. I'm so sorry…" He flashed an awkward apologetic smile, "He's um… A lot." he fidgeted with his hands. "Right… why did you turn up..?" You glanced out the front window, his brother still outside, glaring straight through the window from across the street. "Oh! well… i guess he wasn't lying when he said he thought you looked lonely.." He pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, scrawling something on it quickly "He did.. i just, i thought he'd be a little much so i tried to slow him down a bit… but- that didn't really work. Obviously." "Yeah." You said watching him awkwardly slide a piece of paper over to you. "I'm really sorry.. but if you ever need someone to hang around. Um… That- That's my number…" He trailed off. You looked down at the note, on it was written his number and 'Hi, I'm Noe.' in a shaky scrawl. "You don't have to do anything with it, i just thought that maybe, well… Since we kind of seem like we ruined whatever dinner you were having that i could.." He swallowed, "Maybe make it up to you by buying you dinner sometime.. If you want! You don't have to, of course! But i just thought i'd-" "Uh_' You cut him off quickly, honestly convinced if you let him go on he'd sputter out words forever. "I'll think about it." "Oh!" He squeaked, "Oh okay… Sorry to.. to bother you." "It's fine.. i guess. My night wasn't going too well anyway.." Head resting in your palm as you stared up at him. "Ah.. that sucks. I hope it gets better for you though." He stepped away, "I should probably go… cause he was my ride and.. well he's gonna get pissy if i stay any longer.." "He sounds fun to deal with." Noe let out a small, bitter laugh at your bland sarcasm. " A real treat.." He waved a little as he walked out the building. You sighed, putting your head on the table, granting yourself a few minutes before ordering yourself a coke and leaving.

It had been a few days since your diner 'incident' and you laid in bed half buried under a mass of blankets in a dim room, the only light coming in from the setting sun just out of sight from your window. Still nothing from the boy you had actually wanted to see, no message for why he didn't show, no inkling he had lost interest, not even a hi or even a single letter. "Is he ghosting me..?" You thought, rolling onto your side. "This seriously sucks." looking past your phone and in the direction of your doorway, your gaze fell upon something as the sour loneliness festered inside your body. A small piece of paper you'd left on top of your bedside table. You stared at it for a moment. Reaching for it and holding it over your face. The note from Noe. "I mean i could give it a shot.." Swiping open your contacts, punching in the number. "It couldn't hurt, right?" You added the contact to your list, mulling over how exactly you should open this. "I mean sure his brother was kind of… a lot.. but he was kinda sweet, in a weird awkward way… That was still sweet though, so!" Typing out a quick message.

"Hey, you gave me your number at a diner a few days ago, Just thought i'd shoot a text to see if you wanna chat some time :)."

"Oh hi! yeah, it'd be cool to chat :D!" "Whenever you're free is cool!"

"Great" You added, unsure what else to say.

Unaware that in his own room nestled under more blankets than you could imagine was Noe, a odd grin spread across his soft face like a gash, small elated giggles escaping his lips as he stared down at the screen of his phone in the dark.

A couple of weeks go by, texting back and forth with Noe, you got to find out a few things about him. How much he likes sour candies, the way h pets every stray cat that lets him. There was a day where you were on call with him while he made himself some breakfast. Getting to listen to him mumble and mutter. "How do you do your eggs?" He asked at some point, as you heard pan sizzling in the background, "I like it when they're still a bit runny.." "Hm.." You hummed thoughtfully, "Well if i want eggs, i usually go for an omelette.. With like ham and green onion and shit." "Ooh.. That does sound good." He mentally noted your egg preferences and slid that into a file in his brain. "Mm, i put hot sauce on it." "Oh nice!" He chirped, you could just hear the egg flip in the pan. "What one do you like?" "Hm.. like a bit of tabasco, sometimes." You could hear him hum in agreement. This was how you spent a lot of your time for those weeks.

The sun felt nice on your skin, the day was pleasant, warm but the breeze was cool enough to keep you at a comfortable temperature. You'd made plans, with Noe. It had taken… many weeks. But! You were doing it! Finally. You were sat outside a cafe, enjoying the weather. Not bothering to even glance at your phone, the time would start making you anxious. There was no point in doing that, i mean he was so sweet. That and it was hard to believe he would skip out on anyone like that. So you waited. And waited a little more. And a little more- "Oh.. okay.." You sighed quietly. Honestly, what is with men and doing this to you? You were almost going to leave. Footsteps approached quickly

"He's sick." You looked up from your bag and low key almost shit yourself. Why? Because you looked up to find Jace, standing almost a little too close to you. "Oh?" You breathed, "Why… Why are you here? He could've like- like texted me." "His phone's dead cause he's an idiot who didn't charge it." "Right.. You're here because?" "Because I'm telling you." His expression changed minorly, like he was thinking about something. You weren't sure if it was a normal thing or if he wanted to murder you. "And also cause i wanted apologise or some shit." "Huh?" You blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. He's clearly off to a great start with the apology 'or some shit' here. "For fucking up your goddamn dinner or whatever." "Ah. Well, it was literally like over a month ago. I think I'll live." You almost saw his jaw tense. You did however see his eyes narrow, stepping back a little. "So you know, it.. it's uh.. It's all good!" "Well. You're already here. So don't just waste your time and leave. Let me get you something." Which honestly sounded less like a request and more like he was telling you this was going to happen. "I mean.. sure, i guess… I am already here." You smiled awkwardly.

So you let him buy you food, like hell you were gonna turn down a free meal! You sat in a wooden chair across a small round table from him. Too enraptured in shoveling food into your mouth to notice the fact his eyes had only left you once or twice, to shoot a deadly glare at someone who'd let their eyes linger over you for a little too long. He hadn't even ordered himself food, simply a single coffee that he sipped at silently. "Give me your number or something." He said, breaking the silence. "Huh?" You blinked mouth half full. "Give me your number, so i can text you if he decides to be fucking dumb and not show up." "Oh." hand shuffling through your bag, stopping quickly when you heard a light slap on the table. A small red notebook and a black pen he'd tossed onto the table. "I guess it'd be helpful.." You thought, "Having another person to tell me stuff he can't would probably make him feel better, right?" Scribbling down your number onto the lined page, you slid both items back towards him. "Cool." He swiped the notebook off of the table and slipped it into the pocket of his dark grey jacket.

Faster than you knew it Jace had also wormed his way into your life.. Or well. It was really more like a bulldozer, he was rather loud. You'd thought Noe texted you frequently but as the days passed you were starting to feel like he might be doing it more than his brother. Maybe it was just novelty? Or at least that's what you'd think when really, his body started burning at the thought of you talking to anyone else, so he texted you more than daily. He had to. You needed to be kept away from every bastard out there. They'd break your poor little heart, just like the one who left you all alone at that diner. The mental image of someone leaving you there in that booth all alone, the sad look in your eyes, the way you kept glancing up so hopefully, the fact someone left you there like that made his blood boil in record time. There was practically nothing he wouldn't do to stop that from happening, even if it meant stopping people from talking to you in the first place. But… he couldn't yet. As much as it frustrated him. You had to let him in before he could keep anyone out. And unfortunately his idiot little brother had crawled his way into a corner in your heart, he knew he wouldn't get out. The little bastard had settled.

So many of your days were spent, with near constant attention from both of them, which was nice but.. how much was too much? You weren't sure but it was getting there. You couldn't just talk to them and only them! So you gave it another shot, tried to put yourself out there again. Even if it doesn't go well, surely it'll be fine right? You tried and tried, eventually, you found a match. Someone you could talk to, almost endlessly. So much so in fact you forgot to text Jace and Noe back more often than not. It was tearing the both of them apart, you didn't even know it.

Both of them trying desperately to find out what was taking up your precious time. Neither of them particularly getting anywhere alone. The frequent and frantic, fruitless hunts. Reducing Noe to more and more tears while you left him alone and unable to figure out why despite his desperate attempts to find out where it was you'd gone to. Jace on the other hand, was purely burning up because clearly the only reason you'd end up wandering off was if some piece of shit idiot, he knew where you would go but he couldn't go look. If he did, he'd probably end up punching whoever was wasting your precious time right in their shitty little mouth and that just wouldn't look good. Even he had enough awareness to know that much. They just had to do something about it, they had to bring you back! They had to bring you home. There was enough room at home, it was a four bedroom house, you could take the spare room!

Noe after a lengthy session of desperately trying to figure out your plans, hell he even asked if you were doing anything fun today, you didn't answer… He had barely even gotten to hang out with you and you were already leaving him behind. "Not fair.." He mumbled, sniffling and stabbing at a slightly burnt omelette in the fry pan, "You can't just leave…" Stab. "We barely even got to talk…" Stab. "I wanted to talk more.." Stab. "The fuck- are you still crying?" Jace sighed irritably grabbing a can out of the fridge. "Well i'm sorry i actually care about shit." He wetly fired back, dumping a slightly scrambled omelette onto a plate. "Oh piss off!" The can hit the counter, it's contents splashing over the counter top. "Don't act like i don't give a shit about anything! Who's the fucking reason you're even here!?" Noe's eyes shot back down to his sad, sad omelette and he dropped some green onions on top of it. "Maybe you could act like it for once.." he said under his breath. Jace audibly groaned, snatching his drink off of the counter, quickly doing a double take. "The hell is this?" His brother looked over. "Huh?" He blinked, watching Jace pick up a small square of paper? No, it was a photo. One single photo, of you. Sat comfortably at a restaurant with the most precious of smiles. The unfortunate part was, that smile was directed at someone sitting across from you, looking almost equally as content. The both of them stared at the photo in a moment of silence. "I'm gonna kill that fucker…" Jace hissed. "I feel like if you do that they're gonna notice…" "Shut up." "I'm just saying! Wouldn't be better to get them here?" "And how the hell do we do that?" "I can probably find something…" He swallowed, "There's a bunch of stuff you can just buy…" "Right… what then? We just share?" "I mean…" Fidgeting with his hands Noe said, "Would you rather leave them out there for someone else to get their hands on?" Jace grumbled, "God! Fine." "Okay!" He chirped skittering away from his brother. Sliding past the other in the hallway as he went to go look up a few things. Jace stood there and bitched to himself for a moment and then went to go look at where you were.

It took them both a few days to find out where exactly your next little meet up with your 'friend' was, a cosy little bar. A marked improvement on their previous efforts, even despite their near constant arguing. They pulled together a little plan to get you home with them. Noe, got sent in to quietly slip something into your drink while you weren't looking. He dipped into the building and stealthily dropped something into your drink, it barely even bubbled. All he had to do now was distract your little date and convince you to get outside.

You sat atop a tall bar stool sipping at your drink, your date having left to use the bathroom. "Um.. Hi." Your head whipped to the side, only to find Noe stood there, small awkward smile on his soft face as he waved a little. "Oh shit, hey." You grinned at him and his heart leapt into his throat, he had to swallow it. "What're you doin' here?" You cocked your head sideways. "Oh! Uh.. I just wanted to get a drink.. that's all.. And then i saw you." "Ahh.." Humming as you felt yourself get a little dizzy. You tried to blink it away, it didn't really go anywhere. If anything, the second your eyelids started to close it started to get harder to pull them back up. "H-hey.. are you.. are you okay?" He asked, gently stabilising you as you wobbled on your stool. "I- uh.. i.." You took a deep breath, "Oof… I think i gotta get air.." "Oh! okay do you want any help?" "Nah.. Nah I'm goood.." You slid off of your bar stool, words trailing off. You left him there, standing next to the bar, blinking.

You wandered your way outside, letting the cool air outside hit your warm skin. You let out a sigh, feeling less dizzy but still.. so sleepy… So you found a nook in the side of the building to sit yourself down on, you sat with a soft groan. Head beginning to loll to the side ever so slightly. Your eyes darting up as you heard, "The fuck are you doing down there dumbass." "Oh.. hi.." You blinked up drowsily at Jace. "Your gonna get yourself fuckin killed like this, idiot." He hissed pulling you up with ease. "Oh!" You squawked. "Geez… C'mon, let's get your sorry ass home." "Okay.." You agreed, far too out of it to question whether or not it made sense for him to know where you lived. He half carried you to a car down the block, pushing you into the back seat, buckling you in and closing the door as Noe hopped into the seat next to you. You fell asleep as he drove, too quickly to notice this wasn't the right direction, if you even would've with how much booze was in your system with the drugs. He rolled his eyes as he looked back in the rear-view mirror to see Noe quietly petting your hair, content little smile on his face. "Yeah alright brat you can have this one.." He thought, turning down the street.

Noe pushed open the door while Jace carried you inside, walking down the hallway as his brother skittered ahead excitedly to your new room. "Oh? You brought company home?" A voice trilled out from the lounge room as he passed it. He glanced over at his brother, deeming only to respond with a grunt. Theo Slinked his way over, a calm smile resting on his face "Well look at them, aren't they cute.." Jace sighed, shifting you in his arms. "Mhm…" "See, now isn't everything easier if you work together..?" He hummed, gently petting you on the head. "You fucking suck." He grumbled, shifting away from his brother and towards your room. "Of course.." Theo huffed in amusement, His thin frame shaking slightly. He pushed up his glasses "I'll leave you to it, then?" Jace walked away.

Heading into your room he found Noe, having already pulled back the soft pastel covers on the bed. Carefully setting you underneath them, Noe very quickly tucked them around you. They both stared silently at your quietly breathing form, simply taking in the fact you were here. "You know, we have to share with him too." Jace said, pushing hair out his face. "Yeah. I kinda figured.." Noe hummed. "But i think I'd rather that than anyone else.." "Even if he's a smug shit?" "I don't know if I'd call him smug…" "I would," "You would." Noe said blandly. "Where d'you think he got the photo?" "Mmm… Don't know. Don't care." Jace pushed a strand of hair out of your face as you slept. "C'mon, get the fuck out." Noe sighed "You get out." "I am, prick." He spat back. Both of them shuffled out of the room, and let you sleep quietly in a bed, they'd gotten just for you.

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

could you write a nick x ftm!reader? something like the reader sees a bunch of hate comments about him and nick comforts him? (if not that’s totally ok)

,,My Boy’’

-N.S

Synopsis: You and Nick have been dating for a long time now, and you finally agree to be in one of the boy’s videos. Nick introduces you as his boyfriend, and the viewers find out you are trans. Some don’t respond the best to this, but Nick is there to comfort you.

pairing: bf!nick sturniolo (he/him) X trans ftm!reader (he/him)

warnings: homophobia, transphobia, panic attack, gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, cyber bullying, threats, harassment, homophobic & transphobic slurs (i promise i can say them. id never EVER say a slur i couldnt!!) and i think thats all! please let me know if i missed one <3

requested?: yes!

back to: masterlist

—FIRST PERSON POV—

After Nick constantly asking me if I was positive I don’t want to finally be in one of the triplets videos, I reluctantly agree.

I have been dating nick for around eight months, and we have kept our relationship a ‘secret’, for these past eight months, and i finally agreed to be in a video.

Matt got back into the car, shutting the door behind himself. Nick smiled at me, before speaking up.

“Welcome back, everybody! Today, we have a special guest, my boyfriend, y/n!” Nick boasts. I love how he openly called me his boyfriend, but i was worried. were his fans going to find out?

Sure they would, but would they care? probably. I passed well enough to be called a male in public, but whenever people care enough, like the Sturniolos fanbase, they will look for all my socials, and they’ll know.

A million thoughts ran through my head, but they were all cleared out once I heard Nick call my name again.

“Y/n? babe? you okay?” he asked, shaking my shoulder gently.

“hm? oh- yeah. sorry. i zoned out,” i chuckled a little. “could you repeat the question?” i asked, and nick complied.

The rest of the video went by pretty smoothly, since I was occupied with thinking deeply at all the odd questions Nick was asking us, and laughing at the out of pocket jokes from matt and chris.

We recorded for about an hour more, knowing that more than half of the footage would just be cut out in editing. Matt screeched into the camera, before shutting it off, and handing it to Nick, and starting the car.

Matt drove all of us to the triplets house, since I just stayed there often with them anyways. we walked inside, and Nick and I went up to his room to edit the video.

I caught myself giggling at the stupid jokes and the annoying bickering, but I cant lie, we’re pretty funny.

“this video has to be posted today,” Nick sighed, only a little bit into the editing. “I hate it when they wont film until the ‘night’ of. It’s 2:34 AM, and the video needs to be up by 4:30..” Nick sighed.

He looked over at me, noticing i was growing increasingly more tired.

“get some sleep, baby.” Nick smiled, kissing my forehead. I complied, before crawling into his bed, falling asleep there.

I woke up again, and it just so happened to be 5:00 PM, somehow. I always sleep throughout the whole day, so i wasn’t really surprised.

I yawned, before staying in Nick’s bed, allowing myself to wake up. I checked my phone, which normally has none to five notifications, but this time, i had well over a thousand.

My eyebrows furrowed; and i quickly shot up. I scrolled through the notifs, to see comments on my old instagram and tiktok posts,

“Awe! Nick’s boyfriend is so cute!”

|_ “replying to : @— ‘boyfriend? i thought nick was gay. this is disgusting.’”

“That’s gross. She changed her name and claimed to be a boy. Fucking gross. Grow up.”

|_ “replying to : @— ‘HE is a boy. He always has been, he just realized it, and is now brave enough to show it. let him be.’”

“Thats not even a boy💀”

“Nick could’ve done so much better and actually got himself a big strong MAN.”

“shes so ugly wth.”

“Nick needs to realize that he could do so much better than her. he needs to raise his standards because what the fuck.”

“guys, her name is y/d/n, not y/n!”

Each comment broke my heart. Sure, there were a few sweet ones, supporting nick and i, but the horrible degrading ones outweigh those by a long shot.

I felt my eyes start to water as i scrolled through the comments. I didn’t want to see them, but i couldn’t stop looking.

I felt the tears start to roll down my cheeks, as i looked through the comments.

I stopped looking through comments i was tagged in, and began looking through my instagram DM’s. Fuck. These were worse.

“kill yourself you stupid fag.”

“nick doesn’t want you, tranny.”

“kill yourself before i kill you.”

“don’t corrupt nick you disgusting freak.”

“i promise you, nick hates you.”

“why’d he pick you. he could’ve had me😂”

I let out small silent sobs, throwing my phone on the ground. I heard a pair of feet running up the stairs to Nick’s room, before the door flew open.

“shit- what happened? fuck, y/n, whats wrong?” Chris’ eyes widened as he saw the scene in front of him. My phone broken on the floor, and i was sobbing into my knees on Nick’s bed.

I nodded, and chris immediately ran by my side.

“he’s out with Matt- ill call him. im staying here with you until he gets here, okay?” he placed his hand on my back. he quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling nick. i didnt understand what he said, because i wasn’t paying attention. i just need nick.

Nick. thats all i want. He’s all i need.

“hey.. please, talk to me.” Chris spoke softly, putting his phone back in his pocket. “what happened, buddy?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing, his hand never leaving my back.

Thats when i realized, i wasn’t wearing my binder. Normally, not wearing my binder at my own house, or even the triplets, doesn’t bother me, but as i read through all those comments, calling me a girl, i couldn’t help but feel disappointed in myself.

I looked down at my chest, and started crying harder. I couldn’t breathe. fuck- i’m having a panic attack.

“n-nick- i- i need n-nick!” i gasped, quickly sitting up.

“hey- hey, it’s okay. Nicks almost here, okay? I need you to take deep breaths, okay?” Chris panicked. I panted, rocking back and fourth on nicks bed.

I knew Chris was trying to help, but i needed Nick.

We heard the door bust open, and nick and matt both ran up the stairs, to me and Chris.

“baby, my baby..” Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, as he rushed to my side. He pulled me into a hug, and looked at chris as he held me. “what happened, chris?” Nick asked, trying to raise his voice, knowing it would make things worse.

“I- i dont know! I heard a bang and crying- so, i ran up here and he was crying! he wouldnt tell me anything, besides he wanted you! i- i didnt know what to do so i called you!” Chris spoke worriedly.

I looked over at matt, his jaw clenched, as he fiddled with his own hands. his eyes glossy. Matt’s dealt with his own panic attacks, and seeing someone he cared about was probably hard for him.

“i- i-m sorry-“ i stuttered out to Matt, who had a worried expression plastered on his face. he didn’t say a word. I cant hurt matt, too.

“huh? baby, what are you sorry for?” nick asked me, pulling back slightly from the hug, to look me in the eyes.

“m-matt-“ i sobbed, and nicks head snapped towards matt, who’s chest was moving rapidly, his eyes wide.

“fuck, chris, get him out of here, please. go sit with him on the couch or something- calm him down. I got y/n,” nick gestured towards matt, and chris immediatly did as he was told.

“shh, baby. i’ve got you. You’re okay.” Nick whispered, pulling me into him. i focused on the heat radiating off of his body, his vanilla scent, and the way his soft hoodie felt on my skin. My sobs slightly subsided, and i could finally think straight again.

“My love.. i love you. so much. do you want to talk about it?” Nick offered, and placed a loving kiss on my forehead, as he brushed my hair out of my face.

“your f-fans.. they called me a girl..” i sniffled, and his gaze sofened, and he looked like he was about to cry.

“you are not a girl. you never have been, and never will be. you’re my boy.” Nick sighed, placing a soft kiss to my lips.

His boy.

I’m his boy.

I WASNT SURE IF THIS WAS A GOOD ENDING OR NOT BUT IDK I THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE.

writing the dms and comments BROKE me.

@bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso

[conron]

leon & ashley fic

hi hi! i love you leon kennedy thank god for him amirite? this is a platonic fic which i feel like tumblr needs more of lol (u guys r lowk freaks haha....) i see their relationship very brother sister coded so thats how i will write them.

tags: OG RE4 ASHLEY AND LEON!, although it probably wont change much if youve only seen the remake, dont let that stop you!, post re4, ashley is a cutie, re6 section at the end, I RETCONNED IT A BIT, the president in re6 is graham here, dont judge me, i didnt realize ok, out of character im sure, typos, bit of a character study on leon, religion mention!, hugs !!!, villain and violent, infant and innocent

not beta read we die like....... resident evil side charracters....?

...

Her hands have a box in between her manicured nails. They’re clear but groomed to perfection and he looks from the box to her face. He’s…. a little confused. 

“It’s not my birthday,” He chimes in with a light smirk tugging at his lips. Brown eyes roll at him and his shitty one liner before she takes one of his hands in hers. They’re soft to the touch against his rough and calloused ones. Untouched and the scars from being kidnapped slowly fading to the back of her mind. He can see the metal banded bracelet adorning her wrist that he had to see every time he pulled her along when she was too scared to move. Turning his wrist so his palm faced up, she placed the box in his hand. 

“I don’t even know when your birthday is,” Her voice is unamused and it makes a grin be pulled to his lips. And she sure as hell won’t be finding out now. 

It was something that seemed a little too delicate for his hands that held grenade launchers and rifles. A box from plush hands that have scraped by with death from the minds of evil people. 

“It’s a gift,” Her voice says with a small smile. The same one she’d give when grinning at him when he shot down another B.O.W, “for saving me.” 

It makes his eyes widen as he looks down at the box. It’s black and wrapped in velvet on every facet of it. Her hand leaves his and the warmth of someone who’s less scarred than he is leaves his touch. He looks back up at her with something growing in his chest. 

“You… you really didn’t have to, Ashley.” Muttering under his breath as the wind blows past them. The leaves from the trees are changing seasons and falling around them. He can hear the sound of other people her age conversing about college and he finds that he can’t remember how it feels to be that young anymore. 

“It’s my job. Getting you home safe is the only thing that matters.” He continues as he tries to give back the gift. She’s the president’s daughter, of course he had to save her. So she doesn’t need to repay him because that already came in his paycheck. The repayance was bucking her off the jetski for a little laugh when he knew they were safe. 

Of course, she doesn’t accept this. Because this is Ashley Graham. Brown eyes and short platinum blonde hair. Invisible freckles across her cheeks and nose. The girl who would yell out his name every time something went wrong. Who never failed to comply with his orders so she stayed alive. Who wrapped her arms around him every time they found one another again. 

Of course, because she’s a young woman who’s so stubborn that she got kidnapped again when he saved her. 

“Come on, Leon.” A sigh leaves her lips and he quirks a small grin at her annoyance. “You saved my life like 3 times.” 

… 

That was very true. Actually, he’d argue that it was more times than that. But he doesn’t speak these thoughts to the woman, lest she start to strangle him in aggravation. His eyes look back from hers and stare down at the box again. His fingertips slowly grazing the felt, she laughed and said-

“Well at least open it. I’m making you take it no matter what.”

He scoffs slightly to the air, a little laugh hiding under it. His fingerless gloves cover most of his hand but he can still feel the soft felt. Creasing underneath the pressure as he slowly opens the box. His eyes are greeted with a necklace. Glittering shiny to his eyes and he already knows it has to be the most expensive thing he owns now. 

That isn’t the only thing that catches his eye. Planted in the box, the base holding it as if it was shaped for it. It was a shining cross. The actual cross was a bit small, about the size of half his pinky. It was encrusted with white gems that he’s sure, individually, would be enough to buy a house in this economy. The chain is secure and if he pulled, even with all his strength, he knew it wouldn't break. 

His head turns back up to meet Ashley's smiling face. She stands in her school uniform, her sweater vest pulled taut around her body. An orange scarf adoring her neck as well. 

“Well? What do you think, Leon?”

…

He stays quiet as he looks back down at the necklace. The cross adorns the corner of his eye as the gems glitter secrets into his ears. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not religious.”

Ashley’s eyes turn to ones of confusion before her hands place on her hips. She seems annoyed with him, something he was accustomed to for the few grueling days in Spain. 

“That is not what it’s about, Leon.”

“Then what’s the summary? Two sticks and a chain?”

She rolls her eyes again. It’s not that religion is really a problem, he mostly just wants to mess with her a little. Although, after being kidnapped by a religious group and infected with a virus that made her cough up blood; he’s surprised she’s still religious. 

From under her scarf, she holds up her own necklace. Glimmering under her soft smile at him. 

“Look, we’re matching.” 

She flashes a toothy smile at him as the necklace that is almost one to one with his swings from side to side. And suddenly he feels oddly shy. He was used to orders he had to follow and guns that made his hands shake when he held them for too long.  A little out of his depth for a gift that obviously had a lot of thought put into it. 

(And a lot of money…)

“C’mon Ashley, I can’t accept this…” He mutters as he closes the box, hiding away the innocent gift that he knows he doesn’t really deserve. Not really. Not when it was just his job that he saved her. Not when she got hurt under his watch, snatched away from his grasp over and over again. Forced to be kept away in cramped spaces with eyes of disgusting people staring at her. 

He doesn’t deserve this when she went through all of that. 

He doesn’t deserve a lot of things anymore. 

Not really. 

But her dainty hands cover his. Warmth blooming from her fingertips and watering his cold and rough ones. He looks from the box to her face and the way she smiled softly looking at his gloved hands. Something very soft in front of him. Something he’s afraid he doesn’t understand anymore. 

“When I was kidnapped, I prayed for God to save me. I’m pretty sure my nails made my hands bleed because of how hard I was praying.” The light wind carries her voice to his attentive ears. And her hands may be smaller than his and softer, but they grip his tightly. Sure of herself.

“And God didn’t save me.” She mutters, a little bitterly. Her smile turned downward at her own words. Gritting her teeth before she remembers something. As if something quelled the frustration at her disillusion with her own religion. A smile replaced her lips as she looked up at him. 

“But you did.” 

He feels his heart tremble and shake in the hands of a woman who was 7 years younger than him. Eyes who have not seen the extent of bioterrorism nightmares. Eyes that have been kidnapped and traumatized in their own way. Her smile, he feels, is undeserved. Something so grateful and sweet. HIs eyes widen slightly and he can’t even open his mouth to say a retort. 

“You did… and like-! I get how stupid that sounds…” She trails off as she looks away, her hands start shaking with the same tremor his heart is feeling and he feels a sudden urge to wrap her in his arms. 

“But I was so scared, Leon… I thought… I was gonna die alone. Or you know…” Her voice leaves empty to the possibilities that could have happened. The possibility that every woman was afraid of happening to her. She didn’t know she was supposed to be released back to America like some lab experiment. She didn’t know anything. 

The brown in her eyes swirl with tears before she stares at their hands that are on top of one another. Her lips not moving as she’s sure she doesn’t need to say more. Not needing to. Not when he understands so thoroughly. Those big brown eyes softening as she slowly descends to one knee. Bowing her head down with a little giggle. His lips cannot muster a smile at her. Only stares with a certain sadness in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Leon.” 

Her voice says through the wind and the blowing leaves. They blow past her face and get a little tangled in her short platinum blonde hair. Her smile makes her eyes crinkle, her teeth flashing white up at him. She looks younger than she really is, childish and grinning up at him as if she was a little kid. His lips purse a frown. 

“You’re my hero.” 

Her hand clutches his as he stands before her, forcing his fingers to curl around the box. On her knee as if she was a knight bowing to the royalty she was sent to protect. Switching the roles they were in when they were trapped in Spain. The setting sun glowing a brilliant golden on her visible freckles as he stares down at her. His own eyes drowning in a feeling that makes his chest ache and ache. 

When she stands, she rubs the back of her neck and laughs about how that was a little embarrassing. The moment has passed but it leaves a dull ache in his body that he hides with a cross of his arms. Rolling his eyes as he mutters, “think about how I feel…” 

This makes her roll her eyes as well as she knocks her hand against his arm. He hides his mixed emotions behind a small snarky smile as they walk next to the trees at her university. Their shoes crunching on the grass and leaves as her voice complains about menial things. He listens, of course he does. With his gloved fingers tucked within his pockets and small comments replying to her words. 

And when it’s been long enough, they stop and she smiles at him. A smile he’s familiar with. They hug and she smells like apples and cinnamon sugar. Her hair smells like the season as the strands tickle the side of his face.

He smells like mint and sweat, a small lingering scent of alcohol that she smells. It’s inevitable as she buries her face in his chest where he’s wearing his jacket. She laughs, looks up at him and says he's nasty, that he reeks of sweat and alcohol. An over exaggeration of course. This rolls right off of him as he reminds her that she jumped down a trash chute with him. 

And they laugh, carefree with no looming threat of death over them. Not concerned with saving their lives. He messes with her hair and he knocks away the hand that tries to mess up his. He bids her goodbye when she sees her friends. Her face glowing as she gives him one more hug and he smiles ruefully as she runs to her friends in the same big brown boots she was wearing when he saved her. 

For a moment, he allows himself to watch her walk away. Surrounded by people who care about her and that are making her roll her eyes at the moment. She gives one last look to him before she grins and gives a little wave at him.

He stands alone, the wind blowing through his hair as his own hand raises to give his own half hearted wave at her. Her friends sneak glances at him, poking at her side. She rolls her eyes as she turns away and walks away from where he can protect her. They disappear and he lets out a sigh as he stares up at the swirling colors of the sky. The small velvet box tucked away safely in his jacket pocket. 

When he gets home and sits at his desk, it is only then he really looks at the necklace. Sinking into the plush material as his fingers hold up the cross. Matching with hers. His, now that he really looks at it, is a bit darker. Has a bit more intricate designs around the cross. A little bigger than hers. His eyebrows furrow as he holds it in his hand and wonders what to do. 

He wonders if he should give it back or maybe donate it, it would definitely be a great idea for his financial situation. But then he thinks back to her grinning up at him and he feels a sharp pain in his chest. She decided to get him this and he was thinking about throwing it away? She got him this to show how grateful she was for him. Something he was not used to at all. 

(And he cares about her.) 

So he takes it with grace because Ashley Graham is one of the only people he can really really care about. He lost contact with Manuela a long time ago and Sherry is lost to the years, he can’t afford thinking about her. He took that risk to protect her, working with the government. 

Putting himself through that torture that he despised so heavily.

His job was too unforgiving for such luxuries to think about such things though. To love people he can’t even lay eyes upon. To focus on people who are no longer in his life. 

So he clasps the reliable chain around his neck and he feels the responsibility he feels materialize on his neck. It does not pull him down or drown him though, secure around his neck. Settling on his chest as he sighs once again and clutches at the cross. Closing his eyes as he fingers with the diamonds and gems that cover it. Encrusting it with magic that suffices to drive his every movement. 

He treats it gently at first, taking it off to shower and leaving it at home when he’s assigned missions. Though, he ends up just wearing it everywhere. Too exhausted to remove it one day and it stays when he showers. He’s worried it will rust but it doesn’t even when he wears it multiple times in the shower or when he works out. 

He texts her about it and she replies a few hours later, “that’s what you get when you’re the president’s daughter!” with a touch too many emoticons. He smiles down at his phone as his other hand fidgets with the necklace. Okay, he’ll wear it everywhere if he can then. 

So he does. 

Tucked under his shirt on assignment, away from hands that will rip it off of him. Out in the open when he goes to work, even being asked by one of his co-workers if he’s religious. His eyes are pulled down to the necklace that he received two years before. By a woman who’s 22 now, who’s going to graduate college soon and threatened him if he didn’t attend. He lamely shrugs at the co-worker he cannot even remember the name of and replies that he isn’t, turning away and leaving the office. 

The president sometimes sees the necklace when Leon forgets to tuck it away and Leon schools his poker face when the president is staring at him. His hands getting clammy from being folded in front of him, assigned to bodyguard during a dinner party the aging man was at. 

“My daughter has a similar one.” The man says with a kind smile as he looks at Leon and his stony expression. His eyes crinkle with understanding and Leon feels the suspicion crawling up his back that he knows who really paid for it. Finally, the president turned away from the man who was standing still behind his chair at the dinner party. Leon lets out a silent relieved breath as he carefully reaches up to tuck the necklace away from view. 

More years pass and he drinks more, keeping a flask in his jacket pocket for emergencies. Ashley sees him sneak a sip at her graduation and she pulls on his cheek with her manicured nails. She’s unimpressed and the regular look, concerned for him. He quirks up a smile as he puts it away. His eyes seeing her in her graduation gown and cap, her face seems to have aged a little more. Still baby faced though and its something that has him let out a little laugh. 

He’s 29 now, a little more jaded. A little more tired. She eyes the bags under his eyes as she waves over her photographer. He scoffs a little at the fact she has her own photographer at the graduation and raises his eyebrow.

His hands resting inside the new leather jacket he bought, sweating a little because of the sun above them. Spring seems to suit Ashley just as well as fall did. Her face gleaming as she tells the photographer to take a picture of them. 

She passes her diploma to one of her other bodyguards and gives Leon a mischievous smile. Before he can quip at her, she unzips his jacket and reaches over the collar of his button up. Her fingers pulling a cross necklace from under his shirt, something that glitters under the sun. Her laugh is overpowering as she smiles up at him. 

“You’re wearing it!” She says, as if she was surprised. He doesn’t know why she is. Of course he has it on.

(He doesn’t tell her that he wears it everyday. That he fidgets with it when he’s nervous. That when everything gets a little difficult, he clasps onto it tight and remembers every reason to do what he does.) 

“Don’t have any other jewelry,” He says with an easy going smirk, hiding the emotional attachment he has for the gift given to him two years before. Although it was true, he really doesn’t have any other jewelry. This makes her roll her eyes as she turns to the camera and reaches under the collar of her own gown. Pulling out the matching piece to his as his eyes widen. 

“Hold it up,” Her voice says as she turns to meet his eyes. Life in her eyes and a future head of her. His mind goes blank as he can only see Ashley in her gown and cap. Flickering to an orange sleeveless sweater and teary brown eyes. 

“Let’s take a picture!” She says before she mouths something to the photographer. But he doesn’t focus on that, a realization dawning on him as he watches her. Reaching up to clutch at the cross before bringing it up robotically. 

This is the life he saved. 

This is the future he protected. 

He has no other time to relent on this before she tells him to smile. So they stand side by side, her fingers holding hers up to the camera. He copies her before quirking up a lazy smile at the camera. A smile he’s practiced to perfection. 

The photographer takes the picture but for some reason doesn’t stop. His eyes swirl in confusion before he feels arms wrapped around him. Ashley’s cap has fallen to the ground as his eyes adjust to the weight on him. Her face buried in his chest as his eyes see the overgrown brunette roots of her platinum blonde hair he was used to. 

His arms automatically wrap around her as he scoffs out a smile. Genuine as Ashley stands wrapped around her. He doesn’t hear the flash and sound of the camera, too focused on the woman before him. Chuckling as he ruffles her hair, messing her hair up on the day of her graduation in the name of affection only he can give to her. 

A gasp resounds as she looks up at him, her face offended but her eyes relaxed and satisfied. He quickly steps out of her grasp before she can mess up his hair. He realizes he’s laughing as he picks up her cap and throws it lazily back on her head. She huffs as if she’s annoyed. 

They smile at each other as other graduates bustle around them, looking for their families. Loud as joy is in the air and the sun shines down on them. Eventually, she goes back to her friends and father. He follows behind as he is tasked with protecting the president and his daughter at this event. 

He doesn’t smile when he’s mailed blown up pictures of himself and Ashley a few weeks later. Definitely doesn’t clutch tight onto his matching cross when he sees the genuine smile on his face when the photographer captures her impromptu hug. He doesn’t frame them, why would he? 

And another thing, he does not cry when he comes home from an awful mission to clutch tight onto a framed picture of himself and a blonde woman holding up matching necklaces. 

So even if he’s not religious, he carries the worn out cross. Wearing it everywhere. Even though it’s lost precious gems and diamonds over the years because of overuse. Because Ashley got him it.

It was his one physical representation of his efforts. Medals meant nothing. Handshakes and fake smiles at ceremonies don't matter. Something he fiddles with in his down time means more than grandiose speeches stroking his ego. 

Something that reminds him of why he’s doing any of this.

I want to save people. 

He remembers his younger self saying as he curled up in a ball at his parent's funeral. 

He remembers being carried away by a man in a blue uniform, clinging onto the material. Hushed whispers trying to be kept from his ears and a strong voice telling him it’ll be okay. 

He thinks of people who have been in his arms. Smiling at him with tears and gratitude. Battered and having lost the air of innocence in their eyes.

He feels his heart constrict and want to wrap around these people. Holding tight to the only reality he knows and it’s protecting the not so innocent light in their eyes. 

Sure, people love to tell him that he likes playing the hero. They assume he loves feeling the praise of saving another human life.  He can only think of someone shivering and terrified. Scared that something out there will harm them.

It’s a cross that gives him solace in the neverending hardships of his career. To give him something to touch other than the cool material of another pistol. 

He may not believe in God but he believes in the lives that he saves. 

And when Helena and him stare down at the president’s dead body, her eyes turn to him as his breath picks up. His hand reaching into his shirt and clutching onto something she cannot see. His other hand searches for his phone as he clumsily clicks on it, the only words from his mouth come out ragged. Repeating a name that she’s heard before. 

He sounds terrified. 

(The only thing Helena can compare it to is when her sister got lost when she was younger. Helena searched for hours through tears, desperation seeped into every bone.) 

Ashley, Ashley, Ashley-

[niki-phoria]

Hello, first of, I just wanna say your writing and stories has help me like literally 😭 so thank you so much!!!🤍🤍🤍

I was wondering if you could do Jake and Jay from Enphyen x male reader. Since valentines is tomorrow, maybe Jake and jay is trying to impress and try to get the male readers' attention. Jake and jay fights for Male reader to be their Valentine. For example maybe Jake and Jay trying to impress male reader with their muscles🥲. Ending could be fluff with male reader going out with both of them. Again if you don't wanna write this you don't have to lol. Have a great wonderful day!!!!!!!🤍🤍🤍🫧🫧

they look SO GOOD omg mullet jake >> and jay's earrings sknlknsl

pairing: non idol!jay x non idol!jake x male!reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.2k

includes: poly relationship (at the very end end), high school au, probably poor descriptions of high school, blushy jake, blushy jay, i love blushy boys lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i made this a high school au bc i had a lot of inspiration for the idea i hope that's okay lol this is being posted after valentines day so i just made it into a normal confession fic. it means so much that you like my writing <33 i really liked this idea, i hope you like it :))

additional notes: it physically pains me that so many idols love justin beiber for some reason what does that man have that i do not /j i was looking for any solo covers from jay but all i could find was a duet with heeseung for off my face so that's what he sings here and the boquet is based on this pic

requests open !! read my rules first

you’re met with the overwhelming smell of flowers as soon as you open your locker. you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at the sight before you. a bouquet of purple dahlias sits delicately placed between your textbooks. 

“i take it you like them?” jake asks, leaning against the locker next to yours. you smile, taking them out and holding them against your chest. 

“i love them,” you smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “thank you!” 

a light flush spreads across jake’s face when you pull away. “i’m glad,” he murmurs. he absentmindedly plays with the strap of his backpack. “hey, i was wondering-” 

his question is cut off by the shrill noise of the school bell, officially announcing the start of the school day. slowly, the student body begins dispersing through the hallways, entering various different classrooms. “shit, i have a test in second period,” you curse to yourself. “oh, what were you gonna ask?” 

“it’s nothing important.” jake’s blush gets a little darker as he waves you off. “i’ll walk you to class?” 

“sure.” you set the flowers back as you close your locker, eagerly returning to jake’s side. his hand brushes against yours before he slowly reaches over, taking your hand into his. 

you dramatically sigh, throwing your head back in frustration. jay stifles a chuckle as he watches you roll onto the floor, laying on the carpet. “math sucks,” you whine. “i hate it here.” 

“what are you working on?” 

“trigonometry.” you nearly hiss the word. 

“come on, it can’t be that bad.” you lift your head to glare at him through your fringe before dramatically laying back down. 

“i am but a poor teenage boy. i can’t be expected to memorize the unit circle!” 

jay laughs, setting his notes aside and kneeling down next to you. “alright, why don’t we take a break?” you sit up as he walks over to the other side of his room, grabbing his guitar from it’s resting place against the wall. 

“ooh, gonna play me a song, pretty boy?” the nickname makes a dark flush spread across his face as he sits across from you. 

“i wont be able to if you keep flustering me like this,” he whispers. you chuckle. jay sets the guitar across his thigh, positioning his fingers along the neck. “i’m a little nervous, i haven’t played in front of anyone before.” 

“well, i’m honored to have the privilege of being the first.” he nervously repositions his fingers on the chords, staring down at his hands. “hey,” you reach over to grab his hand, making him look at you. “you’ll do great. i’m sure of it.” 

jay smiles, nodding. “thanks.” he takes a breath before he begins, slowly strumming the strings. “‘cause i’m off my face, in love with you / i’m out of my head, so into you / and i don’t know how you do it / but i’m forever ruined by you.” 

jay lets the final chords ring out. you sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments. “you’re incredible.” a flustered smile makes it’s way across his face, blush deepening a little. 

“thank you.” he whispers. an odd tension hangs in the air when he looks up at you. you stare into his eyes, deep brown pulling you in. their darkness is alluring. in the next minute you sit staring at him in silence, taking in every part of him, you decide you’d like to get lost in them forever. 

you sigh, setting your belongings onto the library table. jake stifles a laugh as he watches you. “you know we’re gonna have to pick all of this up later, right?” 

you playfully glare at him, ignoring him as you set your bag down on the floor. across from you jay smiles. “you know y/n. he can’t study if he doesn’t have a highlighter in every color in case he needs to take notes.” 

“at least i’m prepared,” you retort, opening your computer. “what are we working on anyways?” 

“chemistry lab.” 

“don’t you actually need to take notes though?” your eyes widen as you look over at jake. 

“notes? did i miss something?” 

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you. “for history. about the korean war?” 

jay chuckles. “did you forget?” 

“i think so.” you close your laptop, sliding your chair back to stand up. “can you watch my stuff? i need to get my textbook.” 

“go ahead.” 

“thanks.” 

jay waits for you to leave the library before leaning in a little closer to jake, voice dropping to a whisper. “are you two going out?” 

“what?” jake cocks his head at him. “no, why would you think that.” 

“i heard about the flowers.” 

“oh, that’s just a little joke we do every year.” jay nods. “why do you ask?” 

“i was planning on asking him out.” jake nearly freezes as he stares at his friend. this time it’s jay who’s confused at his reaction. “what is it?” 

“i, um…” jake glances over his shoulder before dropping his voice even lower. “i like him too.” 

“i thought you did.” jay has to stop himself from laughing at jake’s shocked expression. “come on, you’re not exactly… subtle.” 

“oh, and you are?” 

“listen, i don’t want this to affect our relationship, but i also don’t want to miss out on a chance with y/n.” 

“so, what are you thinking?” 

“i’m thinking we both ask him out and let him choose.” 

“choose?” jay shrugs. 

“i mean, unless you have a better idea.” 

“no, no. when were you planning on asking him?” 

“sometime tomorrow. probably at a cafe.” 

jake nods. “that works for me.” 

the cafe is nearly empty when you enter. you spot jake and jay immediately, both sitting together at a table. jay waves you over, smiling when you sit down. “sorry i’m late, i wasn’t expecting the rain.” 

“don’t be.” jake shakes his head. he slides a cup across to you. “we got you an americano.” 

“oh, thank you.” the cup is warm against your hand. you take your jacket off, setting it on the chair beside you. jay and jake share a glance together. you cock your head at them in confusion. “what are you planning?” 

“we’ve been talking, and we wanted to ask…” jake begins. 

“we both like you.” jay finishes. you raise an eyebrow at them. 

“and you want me to choose?” 

“that’s… kinda what we were planning, yeah.” 

you have to stop yourself from laughing in disbelief. “i’ve also been thinking and i like you too. both of you.” 

“so, you mean…” 

“listen, i really like you guys. and i’m willing to try this if you are.” 

jake is the first to react, reaching out to take your hand. “i really like you. i want to try.” 

you look over at jay. he contemplates for a second before nodding. “as long as we take it slow.” 

“we don’t have to do anything until all of us are comfortable.” jake squeezes your hand. 

“does this mean i can call you mine?” jay smiles. 

“i’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me.” 

[ask-sibverse]

Actually I've Been Wanting To Ask For This Prompt For Awhile, But You Seem So Busy With Others And My 50 Something Prompts, But Seeing Your Post...

Could You Do A ReaderxKillerxColor Date?

Hon in my mind we're basically besties from how often you're in my inbox ( @dreamseersystem made me tally how many I had from you and I had five in my inbox lol)

If anything this would probably continue off this little side timeline (side note: while I definitely like writing Nightmare as redeemable/necessary evil/"secretly good" because I project on the Dreamtale twins intensely, Nightmare does have to be a toxic bastard in this version of things)

"You ever been on a three way date?" Killer asked.

You looked up from your book. The pair of you were just hanging out quietly together. Color, ever more versed in terms, said it was called "parallel play" or something. "Uhh no? Why?"

"Cuz I wanna take you both out on a date!" He beamed at you. "I have a day off coming up where Nightmare promises he wont pull me away for anything! It'll be perfect to take my two favorite people out for some fun together!"

You were tempted to remind Killer of the many promises Nightmare had already broken, including this same exact promise. Several times. But he looked so excited, you couldn't bear to ruin that smile. "Sure, that sounds great. Just tell me when and how much to dress up for you guys."

It was about a week later when Killer came to pick you up. He told you not to dress up too fancy, but you still made sure you looked nice for them both. He took you back to Ccino's to meet up with Color and pick up some food he'd ordered before going to Outertale for a picnic date.

You liked getting food from Ccino's, you had a pretty accurate idea of how to bolus for it. Grillby's were pretty consistent across AUs (at least the "standard" ones were), it was really mostly just Muffett's that were hard to guess the right amount of insulin for. (Except your own, of course.)

Regardless, you liked Ccino's and so did Killer and Color so everyone was happy with the food. You all honestly had a lovely time in the quiet and privacy under the stars.

... At least, until Nightmare very predictably started calling Killer and insisted he come home immediately. Which of course upset Killer because "he promised!"

You squeezed his hand. "Hey, its fine. Why don't you come back to meet Color and I at my apartment whenever he's done with you and we can snuggle and watch movies together?"

He sighed. "Fine..."

You and Color looked at each other after he left.

"I knew this would happen," Color ranted. "Nightmare always does this!"

"I know. I did too."

"He needs to get away from Nightmare. He needs to leave. I know the Omega Timeline might not be the best place for him but maybe-"

"You can't force him to leave, Color. Well, technically you could, but it wouldn't help."

"I know, its just. Its frustrating."

"I know. All we can do right now is be here for him, and be safe for him."

And that's what the two of you did, to the best of your ability. You were both in your apartment, as you said you'd be, when Killer was finally done. He very firmly had a mask of "everything is fine" on, but you didn't say anything. You just let him pick a few movies and some snacks, and the three of you cuddled up under a ridiculous amount of pillows and blankets on your couch to just cuddle and relax together.

And if Killer's black goop looked runnier and tearier than usual, well then, he didn't complain about you hugging him a bit tighter and leaving some tissues conveniently within reach.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Suit and a Gown, Both Armor | Chin Up, Or the Crown Slips

You just posted “A Suit and a Gown, Both Armor”, so it’s probably too soon to request a part two to the fic but I wanted to put this request out there anyway. It could just be about Roman attending the ball in their gown, since I’d be interested in seeing them enjoying the ball dressed the way they feel most comfortable and happy. And since I was the one who requested a nonbinary Roman fic, I just wanted to say thanks for writing my request. The fic was very enjoyable to read :) – monkeythefander

did i frantically rewrite this maybe but here it is!! (for those who didn't know, you were supposed to get this on Wednesday but! my writing software deleted both this chapter and another fic i'd already written but! i have rewritten and so here you go)

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: anxiety about coming out, implied/referenced transphobia

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4432

 “Enter.”

The steward pushes open the door, letting it shut with a low thud. Roman looks over their shoulder as his gaze travels up and down the length of their outfit. The tailor pokes her head out from just behind their hip and hums in acknowledgement. 

“You have outdone yourself this time,” he says lowly, “your work is, as always, spectacular.”

“Save your flattery,” the tailor says, even with the slightest glow of pride to her cheeks, “not every tailor is so fortunate as to have such an excellent model.”

“You both should save your flattery, I’ve no need to hear it.”

“You have every need.” The steward comes closer, meeting Roman’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Though I do not stop by just to admire: your brother has arrived.”

Ah.

Roman raises their chin just slightly, affecting a confidence they do not feel. An admirable effort, but a fruitless one: the steward catches sight of their mere hesitation and takes another step forward. 

“I am happy to tell him to wait until the ball begins proper, he is several hours early, after all.”

“Well, he is wont to show up unexpectedly.” They are unable to keep the note of fondness from their voice, even as their hands twitch at their sides. “Where is he?”

“Presently in the courtyard still, entertaining some of the children with tales of the Kraken.”

“I hope he’s picking the ones that are appropriate for their ears.”

“Their parents were within close range, I am sure they would make some attempt to alert him if his subject matter strayed too far from what they wished their children to be exposed to.” 

Roman sighs. They look down at the rich red fabric swirling from them and follow a single speck of dust as it leaves the skirt and lands on the floor. The tailor gives it a quick tug when they remain silent for too long. 

“Am I making a mistake?”

“Would you care to be more specific, old friend?”

“This,” Roman says, gesturing about, “the ball, the choice of clothing, the…this.”

“I do hope you’re not about to tell me you want another costume for the evening—“

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s just—“ their hands twist into each other and they bite worry their bottom lip between chapped lips—“is this the proper time to be…”

The steward picks up on his unwillingness to fully voice the statement—and how could he not, when Roman had all but stumbled around it like a newborn foal—and steps closer once more, close enough to brush their hands tighter. Roman takes it gratefully, clinging with a strength that they know takes the steward by surprise. He squeezes back, just as readily, as the tailor produces a needle and begins to finish a seam. 

“I can think of no better occasion,” the steward says softly, “than on the day of a ball where the kingdom has come together to celebrate you and all you have done for them—no, no, do not protest that fact. This ball is for the good of the people, for morale, yes, I know, but it is a celebration.”

“Why of me?”

“Who else would it be for?”

“What about for them? For weathering yet another year, for overcoming difficulty, for simply being? Does it have to come back to me?”

“You’re not dissuading his questions about why you’re suddenly so insistent on avoiding the spotlight, you know.”

Roman sighs, letting their head hang. The steward waits patiently until they can summon up their strength again. 

“I am…worried,” they settle on finally, “that in my efforts to celebrate this part of myself that I will only be at a greater disadvantage when it comes to what comes after.”

“You speak of the reaction to your reveal.”

“Yes.”

“Those who are truly yours to care for and care for you in return will not question it,” the tailor says with a certainty they wish they could borrow, if only for the evening, “and I will be there to pin the ones that would behave otherwise back into place.”

“I don’t believe there’s a need for that.”

“Which is why I am not asking for your permission.”

“I think you’d best nod and agree,” the steward hums, a chuckle evident in his voice, “we both know it might happen regardless of whatever approval she gains.”

“You say as if you won’t be pointing them out to her if she should miss them.”

“Naturally.” The steward winks at them in the mirror before growing sober once more. “In truth, old friend, I do not envy your position. I don’t mean to force you into a decision you do not wish to make. I believe you could simply reveal yourself in these stunning garments without ascribing them to the other secret you wish to reveal and the kingdom would think nothing of it. Well, aside from the obvious.”

“What is the obvious?”

“That the tailor is a master at her craft and you are as beautiful and handsome as ever.”

“Careful now, I believe I’ve been warned off of flushing too obviously.” Roman shakes their head. “I…this all seemed so simple just a few days ago.”

“Big decisions often do.”

The three of them lapse into silence for a long moment, interrupted only by the soft susurrus of the tailor’s needle through fabric. Distant sounds of laughter and hooves on cobblestones drift in from the still-open window as the afternoon wears on. 

“Is it worth it?”

“Hm?”

“IS it worth it,” the steward asks gently, “to know that those who would speak of you are not speaking the full truth, if it would save you the backlash of what you would reveal?”

Strings though wounds around their hands and words, their arms and legs, their waist and heart. Would it be worth severing them if the blade that did so cut him as well?

“You needn’t make the decision right now,” the steward says after Roman makes no further move to speak, “I can go and tell the Duke that he must wait until the ball begins to—“

“No.” Roman swallows. “He can come up now.”

“Certainly, I can fetch him.”

“And would you—“ Roman catches the steward by the hand as he goes to pull away, even as they do not make eye contact in the mirror— “would you tell him?”

The steward pauses, evidently surprised, and Roman dares look at him. 

“If he knew,” they say quietly, “if he knew, that might…that might help me decide about…the rest.”

“You did say you suspected he might already know,” the steward agrees with equal caution, “I think it is a wise decision to share the burden with him now.”

“Shame on you,” the tailor scolds, “for referring to such a thing as a burden.”

“I only meant to say—“

“I know what you meant,” Roman says quickly, squeezing his hand again, “I understand. I…yes, thank you.”

“I’ll go and fetch him now.”

He retreats, Roman watching him go until the door closes with a soft thud once more. Their gazer travels from the door to the open window along a thin golden shaft on sunlight, lingering on the armor set out to dry from an earlier spar, the golden embossing on its more decorous finishing gleaming in the late light. Further still to the bed with its rich red canopies, to the desk where the last of the correspondences sat with their paper edges curling up like forgotten petals. The slight coil in their stomach twists as they look at them: invitations answered at the last minute, those from suitors who wished to enter the ball as a matched pair, and of course, the ones from the other guests to the kingdom. 

“Forgive me if I am overzealous in coming to your defense,” comes the tailor’s soft voice, interrupting their thoughts, “I do not mean to offend.”

“You never could. I find that while I lack no strength or will to rise to the defense of others, when it comes to myself, I am…less than able.”They offer their other hand to her, letting her take it and squeeze. “It is an honor and a privilege for you to come to my defense so readily.”

Her brow quirks. “Even if I threaten to stab those who are despicable to you with pins?”

They laugh. “Yes, even then.”

“Noted.”

A few more moments pass in companionable silence, the tailor returning to her work as Roman allows their thoughts to wander, until the tailor pronounces the seam finished and steps back to have a look at them. 

“What do you think?”

“The steward did not misspeak. You are a vision.”

“And you are a master?”

“Well, that did not need to be spoken.”

A small smile curls up their face as footsteps approach from the hall. They begin to turn to see who it is—they know, they already know, they could feel his approach as easily as they can anything in the kingdom—and the door opens to reveal the steward and—

“Holy fucking shit, Ro.”

Roman turns fully, the tailor taking one of their hands to help. The fullness of the red skirt almost obscures the podium entirely, spilling out from the golden carapace framing either side of their torso.  One reaches upwards to wrap around their side ribs and chest, the other down to give the illusion of a swelling hip and thigh. The edges of the gold perfectly meld with the golden detailing of the white shirt, their asymmetry accenting the slimness of their waist and the broad line of their shoulders. A more traditionally masculine collar closed with a ruby nestles at the hollow of their throat, two golden epaulets atop each of their shoulders. Golden chains hang over their upper back and chest, the very longest of each just brushing the top of the higher half of the carapace. 

The crown sits waiting on a side table. 

“Whilst I cannot ascribe the same crassness to my own sentiments,” the steward says as he shuts the door again, “I concur wholeheartedly with the Duke’s statement.”

Remus hasn’t said another word, still staring at Roman. His own costume, a slightly sleeker and more elegant version of his customary green sash with black tulle, does little to cover the way his chest stutters slightly with his uneven breaths. After another pause, his eyes flick up to catch Roman’s and a grin spreads across his face. 

“Holy shit, Ro.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“You take—Ro. You look fucking amazing. Everyone in that ballroom is gonna shit themselves when they see you.”

“I hope not,” the steward remarks casually, “that would be an awful mess to clean.”

Still, Roman cannot stop their own answering grin as Remus comes forward to take their hands. “I’m glad you came.”

“Like I would miss it.” Some of the mania goes out of his grin and he lowers his voice. “I did notice something about the way he introduced you to me, though.”

Roman swallows. “Yeah.”

“Are you…you’re using they/them now?” They just nod silently. “Okay. Are you still—can I still call you my brother?”

“Yes,” they say far too quickly, “yeah, that’s—that’s fine. I’m still going by ‘Prince.’”

They do not miss the way Remus’s shoulders sag in relief. “And then Ro-Bro?”

“Also fine.”

“Great. Good. Fuck, I’m so proud of you, Roro.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You just came out. That’s hard and scary, and not in the good way.”

“Remus.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be serious.” He glances down at the garments against and gestures. “Is this…are you coming out to everyone tonight too?”

The humor in the room abruptly fades as a weight sinks from Roman’s throat to their stomach. They glance at the tailor and she nods, standing and going to take the steward by the arm. He lingers a few moments more, clearly unwilling to leave Roman in such an unsure state. 

“It’s okay,” Remus promises, “I got them.”

“We’ll be just outside.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as the doors close, they let out a shaky breath. Their shoulders sag, their hands in Remus’s beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Remus, ever the attentive brother, crouches slightly so Roman needn’t move to look at him, pressing as close as he dares to their skirts. 

“What’s going on, Ro,” he asks softly, “talk to me?”

“I don’t know what to do, Re.”

“About what?”

“This.” They gesture at themselves and the surrounding room with an edge of frustration. “It hurts, it does, but they don’t—I don’t know if I can do it if they—if they—“

“Hey, shh, easy, slow down a bit.” He reaches up and cups the back of their neck. “You’re talking about the others reacting to you coming out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What could they do? Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds lightly when Roman glares at him, “let’s walk through it, what could happen?”

Roman sighs. The weight of standing still for so long as the tailor worked catches up with them all at once, leaving them weak at the knees and leaning heavily on Remus. 

“Shit—here, let me get that stool, you can sit on that. Do you think you can get it under the skirt?”

“Probably?”

Remus makes sure they’re steady enough to stand on their own for a moment as he goes to fetch the plump and plush footstool from the corner of the bed. Roman hefts the skirts up and out of the way as he sets it on top of the podium, helping to spread the fabric out so that no wrinkles or creases form. 

“There’s so much skirt it kind of looks like you just got shorter.”

“Does it?” Roman glances over their shoulder at their reflection. “Oh. It does.”

In customary Remus fashion, he ignores whatever decorum or courtesy rules there may be and plonks himself on the floor, still within reach of Roman if they need to hold on to him again. 

“It feels hypocritical,” they murmur, “to have a ball and make such a big deal of…of coming out and then not wanting it to be a whole thing.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want—I don’t want to be smothered about it. I don’t want it, like, shouted from the rooftops or anything. I don’t need it to be big and…and now this really sounds hypocritical.”

“There’s a difference between you celebrating it and someone else trying to celebrate it for you.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“Mm. Yeah, I’ve met Patton before.”

“Is it that obvious?” 

“That one was. What else?”

“This is also going to sound hypocritical—“

“I don’t care about what it sounds like, Roro, just talk to me. I’m not gonna tell anyone else shit.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I think it’s…I’m…”

“Dealing with the things the others have forced onto you ‘cause they can be really shitty to you when you try and talk about things, I know, please continue.”

Roman winces at how blunt it is, but moreover, how true it is. “I also don’t want it to be just…dismissed? Or overlooked? I don’t want it to be a technicality.”

“You don’t want Logan saying you basically count as a man.”

“Are these really that obvious, Re?”

“They are to me.” He reaches out and knocks his hand against Roman’s. “Because I know you.”

“No, I don’t want that. And I don’t want Virgil calling me attention-seeking or dramatic either.”

“Like he thinks you’re coming out for the trend or some other stupid bullshit that isn’t true?”

“Yeah.”

Remus makes a grumble that sounds suspiciously like knocking someone over the head with a Morningstar, but it’s only a grumble that Roman can’t quite make out. “And Janny?”

The strings tighten and hook into their lungs. The metal suddenly digs into their ribs and the skirt grows heavy and viscous around their legs. Their collar tightens and itches. 

“Yeah,” they hear Remus mutter from leagues away, “I thought so.”

“I don’t mean to think the worst of them,” they say through a cotton tongue, “but I can’t help it.”

“You’re scared, Roro, it makes sense that your brain is conjuring up worst-case scenarios.”

They huff. “Worse than the idea of them not believing me in the first place?”

“You could pass it off as something that’s just true for the Prince Roman in the Imagination.”

“And be scolded for making light of nonbinary people? No, thank you.”

Remus falls silent for a moment and they sigh. 

“Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Ro. This shit’s hard. I’m just here for you.”

Roman nods, still not looking at him. They stare at their hands, at the calluses and wrinkles and dry spots, and the golden signet ring resting on their left pinky. They look at it, at their crest and the weight of the gold, and the way that it insists on catching the light no matter which way they turn it. 

“Whoa, hey,” Remus’s hands cup their cheeks and their head is tilted back to meet his concerned expression, “hey, Roro, it’s okay, I’m right here, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, it’s gonna be okay.”

I know, they try to say, but their throat won’t cooperate, I know, why can’t I speak?

Their answer comes in the form of a tremendous hitching breath and the feeling of Remus wiping something from their cheek. 

Oh. I’m crying. 

Realizing this fact does not do anything to stop it; rather, as soon as Roman realizes, the force of the sobs doubles and threatens to dislodge Remus’s  hands as they lean on him for support. He blindly gropes for a handkerchief and passes it to them, letting them bury their face in their hands as he curls protectively around them, still murmuring into their ears. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Roro, I’m right here. I promise it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure it out. I swear we’ll figure it out.”

They fumble to get their hand around his wrist and hold on for dear life. Remus weathers the storm as though he were a mountain, immovable, immutable, everlasting. Roman loves him. 

Eventually the sobs taper off. They scrub the last of the remnants from their face as Remus tilts their chin up, tutting at the roughness left on their cheeks. 

“The tailor will have my head if I let you make your pretty face all messy,” he says without any real heat, taking the handkerchief and gently cleaning the rest of their face. 

“Did you know she’s threatening to stab anyone who’s mean to me with her pins tonight?”

“I’ll help her, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea.”

“Remus.”

“Oh, fine,” he sighs, “I won’t help her.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t stop her either.”

Roman sighs and he chuckles, leaning forward to rub their noses together. “Hey, you know I love you, right? I’m so proud of you, Ro-Bro.”

“I love you too.” They glance at the door. “You can let them back in now.”

Remus nods and goes to the door as Roman gets themselves together just a tad. The tailor lets out a quiet noise when she comes back to his side, obviously noticing the last of the tears. They shake their head, it’s alright, and she gives their arm a reassuring pat. 

“Have you made our prince cry, Duke,” the steward asks lowly, “is everything alright?”

“It’s okay,” Roman says, “I’m alright.”

“Well, you’ve given me time to finish the beading on the skirt,” the tailor says, happily taking a seat on the floor and picking up a different needle, “hold still as much as you can, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Perhaps the Duke would be willing to help with the rest?”

“Oh, fuck yeah, Roro, let me do your makeup.”

“If you want to?”

“Yeah, I want to.” He goes to the side and fetches a large case, setting it up on a nearby table. “You just shush and let me work, okay?”

“Okay.”

The steward brings over another chair from the table and takes a seat near the three of them. The rest of the afternoon passes in lazy conversation, the quiet stitching from the tailor, and the soft touch of brushes across their face. AS the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky, eventually Remus and the tailor step away and Roman beholds themselves in the mirror. 

Golden sparkles atop red eye shadow, a brighter highlight in the inner corner. Sharply contorted cheekbones and a bright red lip. They turn their head this way and that, admiring the way the light catches the high points of their face. 

“The finishing touch.”

The tailor has their crown in their hands. They bow their head slightly, feeling the weight of it come to rest on top. It settles perfectly into place. They take a deep breath and stand, facing the mirror. 

“My prince,” the tailor murmurs. 

As if on cue, the clock begins to chime. Not long now until the ball begins. 

“Do you want me with you,” Remus asks, “or in the crowd?”

“In the crowd. Let me find you.”

Remus nods, offering the smallest bow—Roman laughs at that—and leaving. The steward steps up to take his place, smiling. 

“You look resplendent.”

“Thank you, old friend. Though I fear I’ve kept you both from getting ready yourselves.”

“Nonsense. I just have to swap out a few things and I’ll be finished.”

“It would only be responsible of me to be on hand should you need an emergency repair,” the tailor says, innocently smiling when Roman narrows their eyes at her, “pins and all.”

“You’re both incorrigible.”

“And you would not have us any other way. Ah!” She slaps their hand lightly when they go to help. “None of that for you. You can simply stand and look incredible.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“You are the prince. Letting us fumble about with our own garments is perfectly fair.”

They raise their hands in concession, sitting back down as the two of them ready themselves for the ball. When the time draws near, each of them offers a hand and they stand, moving slowly from the stool through the halls and down the back corridors to the grand staircase. From just beyond the shadow of the overhanging promenade, they can see the lights on the stone and the faint strains of music and conversation from the ball proper. 

The steward pauses just before the entrance. “How would you like to be introduced?”

The tailor squeezes their hand reassuringly. 

“What we discussed earlier.”

The steward smiles and lifts their hand, clasping it against his own chest in a modified version of the soldier’s salute. “My pleasure, my friend.”

He walks out onto the landing to address the herald. The sudden air of the ball makes them lightheaded and their hand trembles once more. The tailor steps a little closer in the shadows, letting them lean against her side until their breath returns. 

“Chin up,” she whispers encouragingly, “or the crown slips.”

“Thank you.”

“We love you, Roman, we’re by your side.”

The trumpets blare. They take a deep breath and push their shoulders back, raising their chin. The booming voice of the herald echoes over the now-hushed ballroom. 

“I give you, Their Majesty, Prince Roman!”

They walk out into the light. 

The first thing they see are the ornate chandeliers suspended over the marble floor. Glittering crystal fragments catch the light and send it dancing about the columns. Garlands swing in the gentle evening breeze from the hanging gardens, rich and vibrant blooms occasionally dropping petals onto the costumed folk beneath. As rapturous applause breaks out amidst the gasps and murmurs, their gaze travels from one side to the other, taking everything in. 

And there, in the middle, there they are. 

The first one he sees is Logan, a midnight blue cape over one shoulder, revealing a deep silver set of plate with a long sword at his side. The inside of the cape is inlaid with glittering gems that look like stars. Next to him is Virgil, also in a cape, covering a set of purple robes and black gems. Patton wears a similar outfit, except in light blue and white. On one hip hangs a small bag, also inlaid with sapphires and other precious gems. Janus stands to Logan’s other side, clad in a glittering gold ensemble fit for the finest of court sorcerers. His cane makes an appearance as well, elegantly gilded with a snake’s fangs at its base. 

Remus grins and offers them a little wave. 

Someone hands them a goblet and they raise it in toast. Across the room, many hands raise to do the same. They smile and drink as the steward motions for the music to begin again. The tailor comes to their side as the ball resumes, responding to their entrance with a new and vibrant energy. 

“You were spectacular,” she murmurs, “now come, let’s get you into it properly.”

They make their way down the stairs, the crowd parting around them as the steward and tailor follow close behind. Compliments and praise come from all directions but Roman only has eyes for the five in the center. They come to a stop a few paces away, still a little breathless from the rush of emotion. 

They do not have to say a word. 

The steward will tell you that the one in light blue managed to reach the prince first, throwing his arms around them with a squeal and a whisper. The tailor will say it was only by a hair; all five of them rushed to embrace their prince in celebration of their moment. 

Regardless of whose word you favor, both would agree that a ball had never had such cheer nor enthusiasm, and not a single person needed a sharp pin to the side to get them to see what was right in front of them. 

And all was right with the world. 

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