#snow: oh yeah surely nothing will go wrong he's not gonna try anything not after I killed his family

[pumpkinrootbeer]

hunger games tweets but it's mostly haymitch

[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[thesunicarusfellfor]

WAIT WAIT— what if 👀 what if Yandere!Tubbo and Yandere!Tommy falling for the reader at the same time

BROO— THE ANGST POSSIBILITIES

ooooooOOOOO DAMN this one is gonna be good! I love the way you think! So I wrote this as headcanons, but I will write this as an actual story if requested. ^^

This is not exactly implied romantic??? I'm still scared about writing their characters as directly romantic????? I'll probably get braver about it but still lowkey worried.

Yandere!C!Tommy x GN!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Headcanon/Fic

Tommy, at first, completely denied even acknowledging your existence.

Until he saw someone interact with you.

Then he would start pulling out his sword or glaring at them from across the room.

He would definitely pin them in an alleyway and threaten every single one of their canon lives.

Tommy, please. Niki was just trying to give you cookies.

He's the kind of Yandere that would greatly keep his distance both physically, emotionally and mentally. Basically, he would be a Tsundere Yandere.

Tubbo, on the other hand, would be extremely sweet to you.

Need netherite? He had an extra few ingots ready in his pockets!

Interacting with someone who wasn't him? Was he not good enough for you??? Fine. You don't deserve him.

He would cry to you and make you feel guilty OR completely ignore you for a week straight until you come crawling back to him and apologizing.

Straight up can flip emotions like a switch.

The first time either of them realized the other liked you as well, was when they were listening to Mellohi on their bench, watching the sunset when they saw you having a conversation with Ranboo at the bottom of the cliff.

"What're they doing talking to him?" Tommy growled lowly and leaned forward to glared at the enderman who was talking to you. He reached for his bow n' arrow before Tubbo grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks, "What? I don't want them talking to anyone but me."

"What do you mean 'anyone but you'?! You avoid them like they're a virus!" Tubbo stared at him, digging his fingers into Tommy's bicep a small bit to show his anger a bit more, "They should only be talking to me."

The blond turned towards his brunet friend and yanked his arm out of his grasp, "Excuse me?" He glared into Tubbo's dull blue eyes, gritting his teeth, "You do nothing but give them stuff!"

"And you treat them like shit and avoid them!" The smaller of the two retorted angrily, trying to keep his tone level enough to where you didn't hear.

Mellohi, the music that had been playing mere moments ago, slowly came to a stop and left nothing but silence and tension in the air. You had noticed them arguing from below, but Ranboo (who had heard their entire argument) decided to pull you away from them and bring you to the Tundra.

"Are you trying to take everything from me?!" Tommy tightened his grip on his diamond sword, although part of him knew that if Tubbo equipped his netherite armour, there would be absolutely no competition whatsoever.

"Take things from you?! They're a human being and you choose to ignore that fact when you ignore them or call them terrible names!"

"I treat everyone like that! You already have Ranboo, I don't understand why you're chasing after them with hearts in your eyes when you're fuckin' married! Loyal much! Oh wait, you aren't loyal, you EXILED ME!"

"It's platonic! I told you that already! And you're starting this again now, Tommy?!"

Ranboo actually felt nervous leaving you alone around both Tommy AND/OR Tubbo after hearing their entire argument that day.

Tommy, although now a lot nicer, became extremely clingy towards you and constantly would walk over and drag you away mid-conversation with anyone that wasn't him. ESPECIALLY if you were talking to Tubbo.

Man would bring you everywhere with him if you would let him.

Netherite mining? Get your pick.

To get new discs? Pack your bags, we're going on an adventure.

Straight up does everything he can do to get you away from Tubbo because he's petty.

He tried giving you as many gifts as Tubbo, but mans is broke.

Tubbo would get extremely annoyed by Tommy even just walking through the area when he was with you.

Would start to hold your hand or link arms with you (if you're comfortable), just so Tommy couldn't pull you away as easily.

Started to try guilt-tripping you into living in Snowchester, and even tried to get you to live in the mansion.

Ranboo actually lied to Tubbo, saying he was scared of enderwalking and hurting you, to convince Tubbo not to guilt-trip you further into living in the mansion.

Tubbo's constant gift-giving got so much more extreme.

Want netherite ingots to make armour?

Nope. No lifting a finger.

He already made you fully enchanted netherite god armour anyway.

Has definitely tried to convince Ranboo to let him involve you in the platonic marriage.

"Ranboo! My beloved!" Tubbo called jokingly, walking into their home. He kicked the snow on his boots before pulling down his hood and taking off his hat, hanging it on the hook as he took off his footwear, "I have a proposition for you!"

The monochrome-coloured man lifted his head and set down the journal in his hand, the ink likely still wet judging by the quill in his hand, "Yeah? What's that?" He placed the feathered pen in the pot of ink and turned to face his platonic husband.

"What would you say to extending our marriage to three people? Like a polyamorous relationship. Like Sapnap, Karl and Big Q?" Tubbo sat down in the chair beside him, watching as Ranboo was left reeling for a few seconds.

"W-well, one, I think you mean expanding. Two, with who?!" The tall male sat up quickly, bumping his leg on the table from his minor flailing, "A-and, and, what about Michael? Are you sure they can be trusted with him?"

Tubbo held out his hand to calm his friend down, making his friend put his hands down so he didn't accidentally hit something, "You know what I meant, and (Y/n)! Y'know... Like, the one with (h/l) (h/c) hair, (tall/short)! (Y/n), them!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know who they are, it's just..." He paused to gather his words, glancing away from his friend. In all reality, he wouldn't mind inviting you into the platonic marriage, even if he knew Tubbo felt more romantic feelings towards you. He didn't shut up about it. It was the fact that he was worried about what kind of mental manipulation Tubbo would do to you if you did agree to be in the marriage. Or even what Tommy would do to you or Tubbo!

"...Just?"

'Your relationship with Tommy is beyond screwed already... Imagine what would happen if both of his friends left him to be in a platonic relationship with me. Tubbo, all of us would be in severe danger.' He thought silently before taking a breath. "I-I don't have my enderwalking state under control... I'm already scared for Michael enough, and I don't want to hurt her as well... Give it some time and we'll see. Please.." He whispered, lying through his teeth. Ranboo knew you were damn good at protecting yourself and could knock his long and lanky ass to the dirt within seconds.

Tubbo's bright shiny eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment as his smile began to falter, "Ah... Yeah. I guess that makes sense. For their safety I suppose." His normal look returned and he gave him a smile, "Yeah, that does make a lot of sense. I'll ask again next month to see what happens."

"What... What about Tommy-"

"What about him?" He demanded sharply, his smile vanishing in mere seconds which caught Ranboo off guard yet again, "He doesn't need to be in their life. He would do more harm to them than good!"

Ranboo was left gaping, his mouth moving but not creating any sounds. He watched as Tubbo eyed him carefully before he got up, murmuring something about grabbing food then going to bed.

Once the goat hybrid was completely out of sight, Ranboo reached for his memory book and took the quill again.

'Protect (Y/n) from Tubbo and Tommy. Get them out of DreamSMP.'

Ranboo was scared for you.

He was stuck watching as these crazy two men fought over you, threatened you, manipulated you... It was worrying, to say the least.

Don't get him wrong. If he didn't have an adopted son, a platonic husband that he still cared about despite him being another Dream at this point, and a Syndicate to protect him from, he would've packed everything and ran, bringing you with him.

He was practically walking on eggshells around this man that he had once been extremely close to!

It practically sent shivers down his spine...

Eventually, it got to the point where Ranboo had gone to your house in the ungodly hours of the morning to talk to you.

This man LITERALLY crept into Tubbo's room AND Tommy's house to make sure they were both asleep before going to talk to you.

"Ran... Boo?" You asked, yawning softly as you leaned against the door, your hair all frizzy and messed up, "What's up? It'sssss... Like 5:30am. The sun is barely even up..."

"(Y/n)... Can we go inside? Please... There's something very wrong.." He murmured softly, his memory book tightly held in his grasp as he glanced around. Tommy could be waking up sometime soon, and he did not want to get caught talking to you. He would certainly be down a canon life before he could even say 'sorry'.

You watched the nervous man in front of you and nodded before stepping aside to let him in. Peaking outside, you looked around for what was causing him to panic but went back inside once you didn't see anything. "What's wrong?" Softening your tone, you gestured for him to sit at the table while you made coffee.

Once he had a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, Ranboo slowly began to gather his nerve and speak. He told you everything he could remember, and even opened his memory book to tell you about the things he didn't remember. Everything from the fight where Tommy and Tubbo's friendship completely went downhill a few months ago, to the threats Tubbo used against Tommy, the manipulation against you, the threats he had received by talking to you, and even Tubbo's violent mood switches when talking about you or Tommy.

The entire time, you just sat there wide-eyed as you listened to him ramble on about his fears and worries, and everything in between. He even mentioned wanting to actually divorce Tubbo because of how scared he was for you and his own life. "I don't... Not... Believe you... But this is- this is a little difficult to believe." You knew the enderman hybrid wouldn't lie about something so serious, and he definitely wouldn't be shaking like a leaf if it was a joke or a lie.

"Y-yeah, I expected that... But I really do care about your safety, honestly. You know I wouldn't joke about this kind of thing, especially about Tubbo." He murmured softly, looking at his crown laying on the table in front of him, "In all honesty, I came here this early because I was scared about Tommy trying to kill me if he saw me talking to you..."

"He wouldn't ki-"

The door slammed open dramatically and there was a cheerful shout of your name, "(Y/n)!!! Let's go mining for diamon-" Tommy walked into your kitchen, only to freeze mid-step and midfacial expression. His expression went from surprised to annoyance to a grim smile, "Hello Ranboo!" He gave him a smile that was more like baring his teeth as he twirled his axe nonchalantly.

He was going to hurt him...

[gukyi]

in the frosty air | a jjk drabble

summary: two weeks ago you and your roommate slept together. which would be fine, if you knew you both felt the same about each other. but you don’t. and now it’s christmas, and jungkook is still gorgeous and gentle and wonderful and here, and and you don’t really know what to do about that.

{college!au, roommates!au}

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: this is just an angst train tbh, but it has a happy ending! word count: 1.6k warnings: mentions of past alcohol consumption, this centers around everyone’s favorite capitalist holiday, being sad in the wintertime a/n: OHHHHHHHHHH *internet breaks* anyway yeah i’m back baby!!! here’s a little drabble to celebrate because i can’t help myself when it comes to jungkook. love me or we both go down coming soon!

“This Christmas is pretty fucking lame, isn’t it?”

You whip around at the sound of his voice. “Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I figured,” Jungkook chuckles, bending his head down as he crawls through the open window to join you on the fire escape. The temperature is freezing and the wind is stinging your skin, but it didn’t really feel right to be spending tonight inside. “Saw the window open. Thought you might be here.”

“Yeah. I was probably gonna head inside soon, though.” In the hopes that you would be curled up in your bedroom before Jungkook even got home. Seeing him lately has been hard. “How did your final go?”

“It was alright.” You don’t have to keep looking at him to feel Jungkook taking a seat next to you, crossing his legs over each other as he stares out into the city below you. It snowed a few days ago, and the sidewalks are still covered in that dirty slush that always lingers, wet and cold and black from car tires. Just being beside you makes your heart race, makes your chest tighten. “I was pretty stressed out about it, but then I just sort of remembered that I did my best and that was all I could do, you know?”

“That’s good.” You wish you had that mindset. You spend days studying for an exam and once it’s over, you spend days dwelling on all the things you might have gotten wrong. It’s a philosophy you apply to most aspects of your life. Why you did the thing you did. Why doing the thing you did was the worst thing you could have done. How you will recover from it. If you even will. 

Jungkook sighs. You turn to look at him, just briefly, glance at his side figure, and notice he’s wearing nothing but a giant zip-up hoodie. Isn’t he cold? “It doesn’t really feel like Christmas.”

“Yeah.” You don’t have anything else to say to that. It doesn’t. Which is a damn shame, because you and Jungkook spent the entire beginning of this month turning your tiny, two-bedroom apartment into a winter wonderland. You got a tree to put up next to your TV and decorated with the weirdest ornaments you could find. You hung up those dangly white Christmas lights on the balcony of your fire escape, the ones meant to look like icicles dripping from the metal railing. The radio has been playing nothing but Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey. And yet.

It’s not hard to wonder why this Christmas is such shit. Your spring internship fell through a week ago. Your parents rented a lake house and assumed you wouldn’t be coming with. All of your other friends have gone home already. And Jungkook, perhaps the last person in this whole goddamn city you would have wanted to spend time with, you can’t even bear to look at. 

“How did your finals go?” Jungkook asks, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“They were fine.” At least that torture is over. But living with Jungkook, seeing him every day and knowing that what you have done you can never undo--it’s endless. 

There’s silence. It’s like the two of you simultaneously have no idea and know exactly what to say. Like the words are lingering on the tips of your tongues but your lips are sealed shut. Opening them won’t be like a can of worms. It will be a dam, a waterfall of I’m sorrys and What nows. One week ago, in the heat of the night and in the haze of drink after drink, you and Jungkook made the worst mistake two roommates could ever make. 

“Are you going home this break?” You blurt out the words before you can stop yourself. 

Jungkook sighs. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s okay if you want to.” I get it. I’m not sure if I’d want to hang around and see me either. 

He shrugs. “I just haven’t decided yet.”

He knows that you’re staying. The two of you were so looking forward to spending Christmas together. Now look at you. Jungkook was the perfect roommate. Then everything changed. 

“Okay.” He’s probably just trying to figure out a way to let you down easy. 

Next to you, Jungkook rustles a hand through his pocket. “By the way, uh--I just remembered. I got you something.”

You don’t even have time to object before Jungkook is placing a small fabric box into your open palm, resting on your lap. You look down at the item, at the way your hand seems to envelop it. 

“You didn’t have to--”

“I wanted to.” Jungkook is firm in his response. “Besides, I got it a while ago. Figured now is as good a time as any to give it to you.”

There’s not really anything else to do except open it. Carefully, with trembling fingers, you pull off the lid. Inside sits a dainty silver locket resting amongst a pile of folded tissue paper. You gasp, your breath coming out in smoke in the cold winter air. 

“Oh my God, I--”

“I overheard you talking on the phone saying you wanted one,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. “I wanted to give it to you before I forgot.”

Fingers shaking from the cold, you pull the locket from the box. It dangles from its chain, a delicate little thing, barely the size of a fingerprint. Even on this hazy winter evening, it still catches the light.

For the first time tonight, you look up at him. His eyes are a swirling brown, a deep chocolate. They are unreadable. He offers a small, guarded smile your way, lips pink in the chilly air. “Thank you,” you tell him honestly. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for you. 

You can’t accept this without returning the favor. Wordlessly, you get up from the fire escape, rushing indoors for a moment as you grab your gift from your bedroom. It’s been sitting in there for at least two weeks now. You hold your hand behind your back as you make your way back to the fire escape, sitting down next to him once more. 

With a small flourish, you reveal your own present. They’re drumsticks. 

“For you,” you tell him, that same small grin on your face. “Since you’re always drumming on everything. Thought you could use something to do that with.”

Jungkook looks positively starstruck. He takes the sticks in his hands, feels the wood with his fingers, tracing over the logo at the bottom. You aren’t very well versed in the world of drum equipment, but your friend in the orchestra told you it was a good brand. 

“Wow, Y/N,” he says, mouth agape. “This is... this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever gotten me. Thank you.”

“Always.”

And that’s the truth, isn’t it? No matter what you do, no matter what you say, you will always be there to give Jungkook what he deserves. To make his life just the tiniest bit better. Doing thoughtful things for him has never required effort on your part. There is just a part of you that will do them, because he deserves it. Because he is so gentle, and loving, and kind, and wonderful. 

You sit there for a little while longer, relishing in the brief respite of your gift exchange. It’s softened the ice, warmed the air, broken the tension. Even if only a little. But it’s enough to keep you out here, sitting next to him. It’s enough to keep you from drifting away. 

“I don’t regret that night.”

The words feel like biting wind. 

“What?” You turn to him. 

“I don’t. I’d do it again. A thousand times over.” Jungkook is resolute. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed in determination. 

“Jungkook, what happened that night--”

“Is something I’ll never forget,” he finishes. “Do you know how fucking long I had been waiting to do that? To hold you? Kiss you? To spend the night with you?”

Each syllable presses deeper into your chest, imprinting themselves on your heart. You stare back at him, too shocked to say anything at all. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Jungkook adds on, quickly backtracking. “I sort of... got that message when I woke up that morning and you were gone. But I just wanted you to know that that night didn’t change anything about how I feel about you.”

Jungkook’s got it all wrong. You were the one who fucked up. You were the one whose feelings won’t change. “I thought you were the one who didn’t feel the same.”

Jungkook chuckles, this sad, forced cough. “Are you kidding? I’d do anything to relive that night. You’re my favorite person in this whole world, Y/N.”

If the weather were just a little bit warmer, if the wind wasn’t as dry, perhaps tears would fall. But instead, you blink back at him and it feels at once like your heart weighs a million pounds and nothing at all. “Me too,” you choke out. “I never want to be without you.”

Your fire escape is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but that doesn’t stop Jungkook from reaching over and pulling you in, pressing a chilly kiss to your frozen lips, the heat of his mouth warming you up from the inside out. It’s cold tonight, yes. But Jungkook makes you feel like it’s summer all year long. 

You smile against his lips. They feel like home. They taste like peppermint lip balm and coffee and ice. 

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks. As if he was even thinking about going home anyway. 

“Yes,” you whisper back. 

It feels a lot more like Christmas now. 

“Then I’ll stay.”

↳ don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback! i missed you guys!

[a-mended-pact]

Let the Right One In

A/N: So this is for @boldlyvoid 's challenge. I had so much fun writing this. Even though I'm still super anxious about posting my stories. It's been a pleasure and an honor getting to know you Em. Congratulations on reaching 2k! 🖤

Warning: Mentions of insecurities. Maeve Donovan. Faking a death.

Word count: 2,082

It was midday when I heard knocking on the front door. I was half tempted not to answer. Spencer was away on a case and neither him nor I were expecting anyone. Anyone that would come over at all was away on the case with him or states over. So who could be coming over unannounced? I clumsily headed towards the door. My fuzzy socks are making it difficult to stay balanced on the hardwood floor. A knock came again. It was gentler this time. 

I looked through the peephole and saw a small woman looking around nervously leaning from foot to foot. “Who is it?” I wondered if I could at least get a name. 

“I’m here to see Doctor Spencer Reid. I got his address from Aaron Hotchner.”

  My face blanched at the sound of Hotch’s name. It had been quite some time since anyone had mentioned him. After he went into protective custody with Jack even though the reaper was dead he still chose to stay away. Contact with him was rare and slim. I quickly opened the door and watched her jump back slightly. 

“Who are you?” she asked. She looked around the same age as him. She is actually quite beautiful. I wonder how Spencer knows her? 

“ I’m Y/n Reid.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me.

 “I didn’t realize Spencer had a sister.” She finally met my gaze and smiled.

 “Is he here or do I need to come back at another time?” A small laugh escaped me 

“No, I am not his sister. I am his wife.” I crossed my arms over my chest and locked my foot in place behind the door keeping it only slightly ajar not letting her see into our home. 

Her face shifted to one of slight surprise. “Oh well I better just go then.” She went to turn away. When a thought crossed my mind.

 “Wait, I can call him if you’d like and let him know you are looking for him. What’s your name?” I was wondering whether this was a good idea or not to even call him but i had already offered and i am already in far too deep to turn back now. 

She stopped not turning to face me again. “My name is Maeve. Maeve Donovan.” 

Maeve. Why did I know that name? Why is my brain going off with alarm bells? But why do I know that name? I watched as she vanished from the hallway down the flight of stairs never turning back around to look at me. 

I slammed the door shut as I racked my brain on if I should mention this to Spencer at all. Especially while he is away on a case. Maybe I should wait until he gets home. He should be home later tonight. At least if the weather was alright over in New Hampshire. He had left me a message earlier this morning to let me know the case was solved and it had started snowing there but their flight wouldn’t be ready till a little later. 

He should be home in about an hour now. I will wait. I’ll definitely wait.

 

~

When Spencer walked through the door he looked sluggish and about ready to just collapse. The exhaustion clearly got to him from not getting enough sleep while he was away. He took off his satchel and his suit jacket. He began undoing his tie as he walked his way into our bedroom. Not even making eye contact with me. 

He came back out moments later in nothing but his flannel sweatpants. “Sorry I know I should have said hello to you. I just felt like I was suffocating in my clothes today.” As he spoke he made his way to the couch where I sat at one end.

 Once he sat down he leaned down and put his head in my lap. I gently started running my fingers through his hair while scratching his head. 

“That feels really nice.” His voice was soft and he let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed into the couch and my lap.

 If I wasn’t petting his head I was gently caressing his back with my fingertips. I know I needed to tell him. I was just so nervous. I knew somewhere deep down this would be stressful to him. The day already has worn him out so completely. It was like he needed my touch to recharge himself. I began biting my lip as my hand stopped on his lower back. 

“Hey, Spence, A woman came by to see you today. She said she got your address from Aaron.” He made a humming noise to let me know that he heard me. “Her name was Maeve Donovan.” I felt his back muscles tense at the sound of her name. He sat up immediately. 

“Wh- what did you say?” He looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head or as if I had just spoken another language.  “Mae-” He cut me off. “No, I heard what you said. I don’t need you to repeat yourself. It’s not possible she was at the door. She is dead. She’s been dead for years.” 

He pushed himself up off the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing more than usual. He was more tense than I have seen him in a long time. The last time I saw him this upset or stressed was when he first came back from prison. We were just dating back then.

“I am going to go call Hotch.” he moved quickly to grab his phone when he finally reached it. It began to ring. He looked at it for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Hello?” His eyes widened slightly. I watched as he clenched his jaw and tears brimmed his eyes. 

“M-m-maeve?” He leaned himself back against the wall. His breathing became irregular as he slid himself down the cold panel. At the same time I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes.

I sucked in a breath and sighed. Was this going to be the end of us? Now that all the stories Spencer told me of her came back once he said that she was dead.

She was his first love after all. It would only make sense right?

====Spencer’s Pov=====

My vision was blurred beyond recognition. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears as the sound of her voice drifted in and out. This isn’t real. It’s not possible. I watched her die. I saw her. She was pronounced dead at the scene. I mourned her. It’s been years. Nearly a decade.

“Spencer? Can you hear me?” I felt my tears stream down my face, nodding as if she could see me. 

“Yeah, Yeah I can hear you.” My voice cracked as I answered her. 

“Just like old times huh? It’s so nice to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” My breath hitched at her words. 

I felt my heart hammer in my chest. I glanced up to see if I could find my wife. She was watching me with concern but otherwise she hadn’t moved not yet. All the guards Y/n had torn down throughout the years started building themselves up higher and higher. 

"H-how are you alive? I watched you die." The horrible memories of that fatal day still haunted me. What am I supposed to do now?

Do I still have feelings for her? Is it wrong if I do? I don't know how to handle this. What should I do?

"That's why I came to see you earlier.  It was an idea that I came up with at the last minute.  So I faked my death." Her voice was calmer than my breathing.  I felt the walls Barricading around me to keep me safe. I was suffocating.

I wasn't sure I had heard her right. I could feel my ears ringing as the blood in me ran cold.

"You faked your death and made me believe for a decade that the first person I ever loved died a brutal death because you wanted a new life?" My tone was harsher than I anticipated.

I felt my wife's hands run through my hair in a comforting manner as she lowered herself to the floor with me.

I glanced at Y/n as tears streamed down my face. The memories of Maeve and my feelings for her wreaking havoc on my heart.

"Darling, I think you should hang up. For now anyway." She whispered it as her hand lowered to the back of my neck giving me a gentle message. 

My back stiffened. I was so caught up in my own nightmare I hadn't realized that this is probably a living one for her.

"Spencer. I can expla-" I cut off the call before she could even finish her sentence.  Y/n was right.

"You have a lot you need to process and I'm sure you didn't want to say anything you would regret. I'm sorry if I've overstepped." She looked a little nervous as if I was gonna snap at her the way I had Maeve 

I gently grabbed the hand that was touching me and brought it up to my lips placing a kiss on it.

"Nonsense. You are my wife. You were right. I should have hung up. I just. I don't know how to explain what I was feeling." I could feel my breathing begin to slow slightly as I tried to match her breathing to get mine back to normal.

It was like my world paused for a moment and began to spiral faster than I could catch my balance. I felt air fill my lungs when I heard her voice but yet I was left gasping for oxygen. 

The very thought of Maeve brought back so many things I thought I had dealt with prior to now.  I leaned my head against my wife's shoulder as I just let the tears fall.

I felt awful having her comfort me over another woman. Yet I couldn't bring myself to completely care. She was the one offering me comfort.  

She held me in her arms. Whispering to me that things will be okay. That we'd figure things out.

I truly didn't deserve her. She loves me so unconditionally it's unnerving. That's when my phone went off again.

It was the same number Maeve had called me from.

I glanced at my wife. Who just watched me. That's when I fully knew and decided something that had been bothering me for over the past hour or so.

I let my phone continue to ring as I cupped her face. 

"You...you make me feel special and good and all these things that I still don't have the words for yet— good things… things I never thought I deserved to feel.” I pulled her in closer letting our lips caress one another.

"I love you Spencer.  You don't need to say all of this right now. I know you are still-" She tilted her head to the side as if she were trying to figure me out.  "Cluttered and that's okay."

I kissed her harder than I've ever kissed anyone before.

"I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with you”

I have no real idea on if she needed this reassurance all I knew is that I did. I wanted her to know out loud what she meant to me. I couldn't imagine a better partner. A better lover or a better best friend than her.

 I wasn't going to have her doubt everything about us. Not for anything.

I stayed close to her as my phone kept repeatedly going off until eventually it stopped. I was still figuring things out. 

Knowing that Maeve was alive before I met Y/n would have changed my life completely but now? I didn't want anything to change.  For once I was happy. I had someone in my life who put me first. Who cared about me. Who wasn't afraid to hurt my feelings as long as it kept me safe. She loved me for me and all the mess in between who I have yet to become.

She saw me for me. I wasn't Doctor Spencer Reid.  I wasn't a federal agent or a professor to her. I was just Spencer.  The man for some ungodly reason she chose to love. 

[cdroloisms]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

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

It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—” He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

----------

He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

----------

And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Sweaters, Snowballs, Cocoa, and Kisses (Wanda Maximoff x ADD!autistic!reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: (Y/N) doesn’t like extreme temperature, but Wanda really wants to play in the snow, so do the other Avengers. Along with that, Christmas is coming up. Basically a fluff fic with a small amount of angst.

Request: Not this. I’ve got one, but it’s angsty. I need fluff.

Warnings: Meltdown/shutdown, fluff, a small dash of angst, Christmas, some Hallmark-y sappiness.

Word Count: 2823

Note: Some wintertime fluff in May. Why not? And Pietro and Vision are alive because I say so.

You hate winter.

It’s always so cold and it makes you shiver even thinking about it. All of that cold snow, hypothermia, frostbite, not to mention the slippery ice. You’re so scared you’re gonna fall and break a bone. You’d much rather admire its frosty beauty from within, sipping hot cocoa and wearing comfy pajamas, cuddling up with a loved one, watching old Disney or holiday films.

Your crush, Wanda on the other hand, LOVES winter. And you love her. But shy little ole you hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to her. Every time you try, or even think about trying, you feel the butterflies of love all a-fluttery in your tummy. Your cheeks turn into red roses. (Not literally, of course. That’d be EXTREMELY concerning) You feel yourself stumbling over your words, even in your mind. Not to mention you get weak at the knees. Social skills aren’t exactly your strong suit as it is, so this extra layer is just....it makes you feel embarrassed. 

And no one can blame you. Wanda caught your eye immediately when you first joined the team. She has such a softness about her, even if she seems slightly aloof at times. You’ve heard her playing guitar and singing while passing her room at the compound, and your heart just about stops whenever you do. She has the voice of an angel. Her laugh is made of sunshine and rainbows. Her voice as soft as a marshmallow pillow. So much more inviting than even the beautiful, but biting, winter wind.

Not to mention; Wanda loves wearing fluffy sweaters in December. They always look so soft and warm and.....how you long to just snuggle up against her on a couch by the fire in comfy pajamas and fluffy slippers while watching a cute holiday film or an old Disney film. Maybe even give her a cute little peck on the cheek. But shy little ole you chickens out all the time. 

===============================================

And then one winter day, there are no missions. No training. Nothing.

You’re using your light powers, one of your powers, to decorate the place with Steve and Bucky when Peter bursts in with snow clothes for the whole team.

“Guys!” he exclaims excitedly. “It’s so beautiful outside. We should go out and play!”

As much as you hate the winter, his enthusiasm is contagious. Wanda looks up from her book.

“I love that idea,” she smiles. “Pietro and I used to play in the park whenever it was safe to go out in the winter.”

Her brother zooms inside, startling Peter.

“I heard my name?”

“I was just mentioning how we used to play in that park in Sokovia in the winter,” she says. “Remember? Mama and papa would make sure it was safe before taking us. Even if it was for only a few minutes, it was always so fun.”

“And that one time I hit you square in the face with a snowball?”

“I got your TV night pick after that,” she giggles.

Your mind begins to wander as Wanda and Pietro talk a bit more about winter in Sokovia. You think about just how beautiful, how adorable, how dreamy, how......perfect Wanda is. You’re so distracted that you almost don’t notice Bucky stumbling on the ladder. Luckily Pietro rushes over to stop him from falling. 

“Steve, (Y/N), you two need to be more careful.”

“You’re one to talk about careful, Needy for Speedy,” you joke.

All of a sudden, you hear that cute little giggle. You look to see Wanda smiling at you. Immediately you go weak at the knees and your cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. Even your nose is red.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, Rudolph,” “Need for Speedy” jokes back at you, smirking as he sets Bucky down.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks as she enters dressed in casual attire.

“It’s so beautiful outside,” Peter says as he finishes reorganizing the clothing that Pietro startled out of his hands. “I was thinking we should have a snow day! You know? Go outside and play!”

“That sounds kinda cool,” Nat shrugs. “I’m down.”

“Count me in,” Bucky adds.

“I mean, it can’t be colder than the ice I was frozen in,” Steve shrugs.

“I’ll go too,” Pietro agrees.

“I talked to Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, Clint, and Thor,” Peter tells the rest of you. “And they said they’d be up for it as well. Vision told me he’ll hang back. What about you, (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” you exclaim. “I’m....I’m not a fan of winter.”

“Ah c’mon, kid,” Steve says. “We won’t be out for too long.”

“It’s just....well, I’m sensitive to the really cold and really hot and I’m scared of slipping on the ice,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s okay. I can stay back with Vision.”

“I don’t want you to miss out, though,” Peter tells you. “You’re part of the team. I mean, Vision is too, but I don’t know how he reacts to the snow, so I’m okay with him staying behind if it means he stays safe.”

“When we come back, we could have a movie night and hot cocoa,” Wanda suggests. “One of the best parts of winter is warming up after being out in the cold. If you want, you can hold onto my arm if you’re scared of slipping when we’re walking to the park, (Y/N). And if it gets too cold for you, you can just let me know and I’ll go back to the compound with you.”

You didn’t think your face could glow any redder. You thought wrong. Wanda actually said your name. To you. And she’s offering to help you.

“I, uh....” you stammer. “Wanda, you....you really don’t....you shouldn’t waste....”

“I want to,” she insists kindly. “You seem really sweet.”

Oh Lordy Lordy-Lord....you feel like you’re about to faint. The butterflies are extra fluttery today. Why is an angel like her wasting her time on someone like you? You have no clue. 

“I-I mean, if....if you’re sure....” you stammer on. 

“Of course,” she smiles. “It’s like Peter said. You’re part of the team as well, and I don’t want you to miss out either.”

You nod. 

Maybe a little too much.

“Okay, that’s enough, Bobbly McBobble-Head,” Pietro jokes with a knowing smirk. “Let’s get ready.”

=========================================

Soon enough, you’re all bundled up and on your way to a park just a small walk from the compound. Despite Wanda supporting you, well actually because of Wanda supporting you, you still feel like you’re slipping because you’re so weak at the knees. This leads to you apologizing to her every few seconds.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/N),” she tells you gently.

How is she so patient? How is so sweet? How is she so compassionate and understanding? So many questions like this plague your mind as you slip to the park. When you arrive, everyone else is getting right to playing. Nat, Steve, Pietro, and Bucky are all in an intense snowball fight. Tony and Peter are building a snowman together. Clint and Bruce are sliding down the hill on sleds. 

“I think I’m going to make some snow angels,” Wanda muses.

“But you’re an angel already.”

The phrase somehow slips out of your mouth and into her ear. Her face turns red and she giggles, her nose scrunching up.

“I was right. You are sweet, (Y/N).”

You’re like a snowman in summer, about to melt at any moment. Wanda helps you get onto solid and steady ground before heading off to make snow angels. For several moments, you just stand there. Here you are, out in the cold, because an angel of a woman wants to make sure you’re included in the team. The thought is just.....surreal.

You end up kind of just walking and standing around for a while. You’re extremely worried about how you’re going to react to the snow if you sit in it, let alone lay down in it. You end up kind of just drifting off into a walking daydream; one day, you want to work up the courage to admit your feelings to her. You’re worried about being rejected, but at the same time, you don’t want to lose that chance. There’s always a chance that she might have feelings for you as well. There’s always a chance.

“Yeah,” you say to yourself. “There’s always a cha--”

THWACK!

A stinging burst of cold hits you square in the face and brings you out of your thoughts. You find your vision obscured by snow. Immediately you go into a panic. Your chest tightens up and your breathing becomes shallow and rapid, your heart beating wildly. Tears well up in your eyes. Instinctively you drop to the ground and begin to rock as you hear footsteps rush over.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” you hear Bucky exclaim. “I swear I didn’t mean to hit you.”

You wince and make a small squeak as he tries to put his hand on your shoulder. 

I wanna go back, I wanna go back, I wanna go back.

“Back up,” you hear Nat tell them. “Give them some space.”

“Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go,” you repeat as you rock.

Then you remember. 

“And if it gets too cold for you, you can just let me know and I’ll go back to the compound with you.”

“Wanda!” you cry out, your tears almost freezing to your face. “Wanda!”

In moments she’s at your side. 

“It’s going to be okay, (Y/N),” she tells you gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

You finally brush the snow off your face, but the experience has still left you feeling panicky.

“Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go,” you repeat.

“We can go back to the compound,” Wanda assures you. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”

You blink out the snow that remains in your eyes and reach a hand out to Wanda. She gently takes it and helps you up. 

“(Y/N), I-” Bucky begins.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the time,” Clint says. “They’re clearly overwhelmed.”

Wanda leads you out of the park, trying to make sure you two get back as quickly and safely as possible.

==================================

The two of you arrive and take the elevator. Wanda helps you out of your snow clothes.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asks you.

“Cocoa, cocoa, cocoa,” you repeat as you take off your snowpants.

“I’ll get started on it,” Wanda tells you.

Once the snow clothes are off, you head to your room and throw off your clothes, changing into warm pajamas and fluffy slippers. You impulsively rub your arms to get the heat back in them, and you place a warm wash cloth on your face, the tears still rolling down your face.

You flop onto your bed and let the silence and warmth cover you. It’s not too hot, but it’s definitely not freezing-cold. That’s when the realization hits you. Wanda Maximoff, your crush, walked you back to the compound and is doing what she can to help you through your sensory overload. And now it’s just you and her in the compound.

Well, it’s actually you two and Vision, but he was staying back anyway. 

About half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door.

“(Y/N)? I’ve got your hot cocoa ready.”

It’s Wanda. Your heart is pounding fast and the butterflies have returned. Trying not to get weak at the knees, you wobble over and open the door. There’s Wanda with a mug of hot cocoa and a plate of something. And she’s wearing one of her fluffy sweaters; this one is holiday-red and has a snowflake on the front.

“You okay?” she asks. 

You nod. 

“Y-yeah.”

Your cheeks turn absolutely rose-red.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It seems like you just get so wobbly around me.”

So she has noticed! 

“I....Wanda, I.....I’m....” you stammer. 

She smiles kindly.

“How about we go to the lounge and talk?”

You nod again, and the two of you head to the lounge, decked out in holiday decor. Wanda sets the hot cocoa and plate, which you now see is full of Christmas cookies, on the table and sits on the couch. You wobble to a spot next to her and sits down. For a few moments, you say nothing. The butterflies are at maximum flutter by now. 

“Just tell her, you blushing idiot!” you think to yourself. “Just tell her that you’re in love with her!”

You gulp.

“W-wanda?” you ask.

“Hm?” she responds curiously.

You try to gather up what to say. 

“Um.....I.....I’m.....you.....with.....love.....in.....” you begin, stumbling. “For a.....been...long time.....in love....I’ve.....with you.”

Wanda smiles kindly.

“I know,” she says matter of factly.

This somehow comes as a shock to you.

“How.....?”

“I’m a telepath.”

You mentally facepalm yourself. Of course! How could you forget?

“I think....no, I’m almost certain that I’m in love with you too,” she replies. “I’ve seen you interacting with the others and you’re just so sweet and shy and adorable.”

The color returns to your face with a blush. 

“You....you really are? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugs. 

“I guess I wanted to hear it be said in your real voice. And I suppose I was a little nervous to approach you.”

“You? Nervous? To approach me?”

Wanda nods. 

“Do you want to cuddle with me?” she asks.

You nod, moving in timidly. Thankfully Wanda lets you take your time and you slowly lean in close until your face grazes her sweater. Your head immediately drops on it, beaming. It’s even softer than it looks. Wanda smiles at you as she offers you a blanket, which you graciously accept. 

“So....are we, like, a thing?” you ask her.

“Do you want to be?” she asks.

You glance away, feeling shy and nod slightly.

“Yeah....I’ve been in love with you for a long time now.”

“Then we’ll be a couple.”

Your heart is beating wildly, all sorts of happy thoughts flying through your heart and your head. You and Wanda cuddle on the couch for a while when something catches your eye. You look to the ceiling, and right above you and Wanda, is a sprig of mistletoe. She notices and looks up.

“Oh!” she exclaims smiling, her face turning red.

You two look at each other, both of your faces rose-red. 

“Oh my.”

You hear Vision’s voice and turn to see him entering with another plate of cookies. 

“I’ve heard that mistletoe is used to ward off witches and demons. Also that lovers are to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” you shrug, trying to stay calm. 

“Steve told me to hang it there,” Vision admits. “I have to wonder if he knew this would happen.”

Wanda giggles again.

“I imagine he knew something would happen.”

She glances to you.

“Do you....want to?”

Can your face get any redder? Apparently. You nod hesitantly, leaning forward, uncertain of how to approach this. After some blushing and contemplation, you decide to just go for it and give her a sweet peck on the lips. You feel fluttery and on Cloud Nine. Wanda leans in and gently places a kiss on your lips, longer than a peck. You can taste a small scent of frosting, almost as sweet as she is. Slowly she pulls back. 

“I love you so much,” she replies softly with a gentle smile.

You turn your face away, but she gently guides it back. 

“No need to hide,” she assures you. “I love to see your beautiful face.”

The two of you look at each other for a while.

“I...I love you even more,” you reply.

“No, I love you more,” she giggles, booping your nose.

It twitches like a little bunny rabbit’s in response. 

“No, I love you more,” you smile, booping hers in return, and she also twitches it like a little bunny rabbit’s nose.

“No, I love you more.”

“No, I love you more.”

“I love you to the ends of the earth.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-hundred.”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-thousand!”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-million!”

“I love you to Pluto and back times one-billion!”

“I love you to the ends of the multiverse and beyond!”

This goes on for some time. Sure, it’s sappy, but you love it. You two end up in a fit of giggles and nose-booping before turning on some classic Disney films and cuddling up close. By the time the others return, you and Wanda are falling asleep to The Winnie-the-Pooh Movie with you leaning your head on her sweater and smiling. 

The others may know that you and Wanda are a thing. But how you two became a couple? That’s between you and her. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[prfctethereal]

bloodline. | james potter

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play bloodline by ariana grande

pairing: james potter x reader (fake dating au)

summary: after lily breaks up with james, you offer to pretend to be lily over the christmas holidays

word count: 10k (i deeply apologise)

warnings: language, mentions of food and eating, sexual jokes and innuendos (nothing explicit or smut), a whole lotta angst but a whole lotta fluff

a/n: a can't believe i wrote so much for this man. anyway, this is probably my favourite thing i’ve ever written to enjoy - Kennedy

***

The common room was a ghostly quiet, but that was expected at this time of year. Tinsel decorated the mantelpiece by the fireplace, the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon wafting through the air. In the corner, a large, oak tree sat, it’s leaves standing tall and proud, juxtaposing against the scarlet walls. Christmas was the reason for this tranquil atmosphere.

Except, that wasn’t the case for everyone. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be going home for the holidays this year, opting to stay at Hogwarts to get in more study time. It felt like nearly all students were going away this year and the ever growing loneliness was catching up to you, weighing your mind down, a foggy haze resting over your eyesight.

You turned your head, looking up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly one in the morning, which meant that there were usually more students in the common room. The train was leaving back to London tomorrow - well, today - so you assumed that they would all be getting some rest. The only sound that filled the common room was the fire crackling and some light whimpering.

Light whimpering?

That definitely caught your attention. Straightening yourself up on the chair, your eyes scanned the dim room, searching for the source of the noise. It was quiet, but prominent, and it definitely sounded like someone crying. The sniffling painted a picture in your mind of someone’s broken face, eyes red and puffy.

There was something wrong though. Your intuition was getting the better of you. You recognised that voice, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Sure, you had friends, but you weren’t close to anyone, close enough to know what they sounded like when you cried.

By now, the crying was loud enough to attract the attention of anyone that would pass by. Your book, laid forgotten on your lap, was brushed aside, as you sat up, ready to find the source of the crying. There weren’t many places to hide in the common room, so it struck you as odd that you couldn’t see anyone.

Following the whines, you crept to the corner of the room, where the cries never stopped and seemingly carried on through the wall. A smile stretched across your face, a mystery forming in your head. Pressing your palms against the wall, your tenacious fingers searched the wallpaper for anything, small incisions, lumps, maybe a door handle. In the lack of light, you didn’t notice the small hole in the wall, letting your finger slip through the wallpaper. Curling around your knuckle, you tugged slightly, opening the secret door you had just found in the wall.

Letting the light slip into the tunnel, you noticed the figure curled up in a ball. His suave messy hair, paired with the thin, round glasses on the ground gave away that it was James Potter who was crying in a secret tunnel at one in the morning.

Your heart broke in an instant. James was actually a very close friend, having helped him and his marauders out multiple times on their pranks and overall mischief. You had met James in the first year and you were the bestest friend he had outside the marauders; he had told you multiple times. Many times you had laid together in the common room, shoulders touching, staring up at the ceiling, enjoying each other’s presence. It was comforting. He was comforting.

But right now, he needed comfort.

A lone piece of parchment was peeking out of his arms, which you carefully plucked away, not focusing on the ink scratched in. Soothing his shaking muscles, you ran your hands up his arms, him immediately calming down at your touch. When you felt like he was feeling better, you reached down, sitting against the wall next to him, placing your arm around his quivering figure. Your fingers found his lonely glasses on the ground, bringing them up to his face, trying to coax his hands away from his reddening cheeks.

The moment you met his eyes, you could feel his pain. His normally bright, cheerful eyes were filled with salty tears, staining his freckle-covered cheek in a sheen of sadness. It was the envisionment of pure anguish.

“Jamesie,” you started, voice quiet as to not shock the obviously patronised boy, quivering next to you, “can you tell me what’s wrong? I want to help you, love.”

“It’s-” He sniffed, voice croaky, “Lily. It’s Lily.” He struggled to keep his gaze on your face, opting to look at his fiddling fingers in this lap. “She broke up with me. A few hours ago.”

Your heart failed. Lily broke up with James? But they were perfect together. For the past two years, it was always James and Lily, Lily and James, high school sweethearts. They were so happy, so why would she end it?

The sadness creeping up inside of you soon turned to wrath, a fire burning wildly in your chest. Red clouded your vision as you felt your fist curl up in anger, fingernails digging into your skin. You only stopped when you felt James’ hand resting on yours.

“Why?” You asked. It was a dumb question, but it was the only thing that came to mind, wanting to keep the attention off of your growing asperity.

“Dunno,” James shrugged, turning back towards his corner. “She said that she wanted to take a break. Had no idea why though. Thought everything was going swimmingly.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, a nice contrast to his tearful expression.

“What a bitch, right before Christmas.” The words fell out of your mouth without you registering it, your eyes scanning the room as you chew thoughtfully on your bottom lip. You didn’t know how James' face grimaced at the mention of Christmas, a pink tint growing on his face, but not from the tears.

Turning around, you saw James with his head in his hands, an excreted groan vibrating from his vocal chords. “Fuck!” He swore, “She was supposed to be coming to meet my parents this Christmas. Now, I have to owl Mum to tell her that’s she’s not coming, oh no-”

He paused, rubbing his eyes together. “This is going to ruin Christmas. Mum and Dad are going to be fretting over me all Christmas. I wish she could’ve just waited until after the holidays.”

It really did seem like James was in a predicament. You had never met Euphemia or Fleamont Potter, but you did know that they were described to be some of the most lovely people to be blessed on this Earth. Even through your tight friendship, you hadn’t met them yet.

Then, another problem rushed through your mind. Lily was now going to be staying at Hogwarts during the holidays, and your blood was boiling. It was going to be difficult to stay in the same room as her without lashing out in defence of James.

“I don’t want to have to deal with Lily for a whole week.” You muttered under your breath, unaware that James was hanging onto every word you said.

“You’re not going away over the holidays?” James asked, eyebrows furrowed together as he scanned your face for any insight. Sighing, you shook your head in response.

“Nah, normally stay.” You pondered for a moment. “Do you think that Lily is gonna be unbearable over Christmas? I might as well just stay in the Room of Requirement all Christmas.”

Then, a thought came to your head. It was almost genius, a bright light twinkling in your eye, your mouth slightly agape. You sucked in a small breath, watching as James eyed you curiously, before a slim smile stretched across your face.

“I have an idea James, but please, I want you to stop me at any point if you feel uncomfortable with this. You are grieving in a way and I don’t want to undermine that. Promise me you’ll shut me down if you don’t like it, okay?” You noted that his head nodded up and down, letting you continue.

“What if I pretend to be Lily? Your parents have never met her before, right? Or me, for a matter of fact. I can come to yours for the holidays and pretend to be Lily to keep the Christmas cheer. When the week is up, we can stop fake dating and you can send a letter to your parents a few weeks later saying that Lily broke up with you. Christmas saved, no pestering parents, and I don’t have to spend a week with the insufferable Lily.”

There was a silence that followed, James gawking at the ground as his mind churned over what you had just said. Then, he spoke.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“If that’s okay with you. I mean, it’s just fake dating, right? For like a week? Are you okay with that?”

You exhaled a deep sigh of release, followed by a hearty chuckle. “Of course I’m okay with it. I suggested it, remember? And besides, we’re friends. Best friends, if anything. Everything will be fine.”

“What about Sirius and Remus? They’re staying over the holidays too. Are you sure they can keep the secret? That, you know, you’re not actually Lily Evans. You’re Y/N L/N.”

“Yeah, I think they can.”

***

“We can’t keep that secret.”

You and James and just explained what the plan was. It was the morning of December 21st, a fresh layer of snow had just been laid on the ground. Wrapped carefully in many layers, students of Hogwarts had bundled up into the crimson train, ready to go back to London for a week.

After explaining to Professor McGonagall that last minute plans meant you could go away in the holidays, she had let you onto the train, where the four of you sat in a carriage, laying out the details of you and James’ awkward plan to fake date for the Christmas holidays.

Sirius had found the whole prospect of the situation immensely funny and had been laughing ever since you told him. Remus - the more serious one of the two, ironically - wasn’t too keen on the idea, a look of disappointment plastered on his face like an angry parent.

“You can’t just lie to Euphemia and Fleamont. They’re your parents, James. Surely they’ll know you’re lying?”

“That’s the brilliant thing!” James had surely brightened up overnight. After talking for a bit, you helped James into bed, hoping that a good night sleep would change his mood slightly. Unexpectedly, his mood changed more than slightly; almost drastically. He was cheerful, his teeth glowing in the daybreak sun, enthusiastic talks from across the common room. It was a rather stark constraint from the glum Lily Evans who was moping around, as if she was the one who got dumped only the night before. “They’ll never know! They haven’t met Lily, nor Y/N! Sure, they’ve heard about both, but they won’t connect the dots.”

Anxiously, Remus looked at Sirius for guidance, except Sirius hadn’t stopped laughing, glistening tears of joy beading at his waterline, a hand clamped over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his tomfoolery, focusing your attention on the still uncertain lycanthrope.

“Remus, please?” You begged, pouting your lips. “It’s just one week. Please just lie for one week.”

It seemed as if his brain was clicking into place because after a moment, a smile replaced with frown, with him sticking his hand out. Eagerly shaking it in agreement, your mood lightened significantly.

The rest of the train ride, you went over everything that you needed to know about James and Lily’s relationship, if it came up. Firstly, they got together in February of year five, 1976. You fake barfed at the fact that their relationship sprouted from Valentine’s day, an opinion that the others giggled at. Secondly, James had told his parents that Lily was a muggleborn, so you would probably get bombarded with questions about muggles. You didn’t mind though; you were muggleborn yourself.

Next, you had to make some rules to keep boundaries between James and yourself. First, let James answer questions about the relationship, while you have to make notes and remember. Second, only refer to you as Lily in communal spaces, as Euphemia or Fleamont could appear at any moment. Three, physical affection is fine, almost encouraged, but no kissing on the lips.

As everything was settled, the train pulled into King’s Cross Station, the horn blasting through, grabbing the attention of the energetic students, ready to stretch their legs. Nervously, you kept still in your seat, an anxious stomach ache coming on. You felt sweat beading at your forehead as you finally realised how nervous you actually were.

James took note of this though, grabbing your hand and rubbing the back of it soothingly, calming your tense nerves. It seemed impossible, this task at hand looming over you, but you had to keep calm. You knew you could; in all honesty, you didn’t know why you were feeling so worried all of a sudden. Giving in, you took James’ hand and followed the three boys out onto the platform.

You followed the gaze of the three of them before your eyes landed on an older looking couple. A lady was standing there, dark brown hair pulled tightly into a ponytail, streaks of grey peaking through. Harsh smile lines protruded through her skin, a warm and inviting look on her face. Next to her, a taller looking man stood proudly next to what you assumed to be his wife. His feathery hair was combed back and the same round glasses as James sat comfortably on his peaky nose. You could only assume that this was Euphemia and Fleamont Potter.

Walking over, you stayed quiet as James greeted his parents first, pulling them into a tight hug. Immediately, you noticed how much of a mummy’s boy James was when you saw him unconsciously seeking comfort from his mother. It hurt to see him not being able to get what he needed in the moment. You looked away, afraid that you might’ve started to cry if you continued looking for any longer.

Fleamont greeted Remus and Sirius like they were his own sons, engulfing them in a hearty hug, lovingly slapping them on their backs. You watched as the affection oozed from James’ parents, a warm feeling growing in your chest. It was admiration.

Then, you felt a tug on your sleeve, looking back to see James’ trying to grab your attention. Giving him an inquisitive look, you noticed Euphemia, arms open, a beaming smile on her face.

“You must be Lily. Come in, dear.” It felt wrong as you dove into her arms, letting her motherly love wash over you like a tidal wave. Pulling apart, you felt the guilt twang in your chest, the name of Lily echoing in your mind.

That wasn’t you.

But you continued to smile. You smiled through your greetings with Fleamont. You smiled through the light banter they shared with James’ friends. You smiled through the small talk. You smiled through aparating to the Potter’s house.

As you stepped through the front door, you were greeted with an adorning archway, the walls endlessly covered with family photos. Everything about the house was inviting. A lingering smell of fresh baking settled in the house, as the light from the window perfectly captured the chandelier, a thousand rainbows dancing around the room.

As you stepped into the entrance way, you watched as Euphemia gestured the four of you up the staircase, down a hallway littered with doors. She stopped at a room, a sign with ‘Sirius’ on it, labelling you it belonged to. You beamed, remembering how this was now Sirius’ new home.

“I hope you don’t mind Remus bunking with you Sirius. I pulled out a spare mattress.” Euphemia addressed the two boys, who eagerly piled into the bedroom, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“You too, this way.” You looked over to James, but his face was contorted into something unreadable, only smiling when he noticed your staring, giving a reassuring squeeze of your hand. You brushed it off though, your mind blurred by the thought of following Euphemia.

“Here’s James’ room,” Euphemia stopped in front of a door that was decorated by a Gryffindor flag. “Make yourself at home, sweetheart. I hope you’re still okay with sharing the bed? James said that was fine in our last letter.”

You inhaled tightly through your nose, clenching your jaw. You looked back at James, whose face was once again turning a bright red, his lips slightly parted as stutters started to spill out. “Well- I- actually-”

“Sounds great, Euphemia. Thank you so much for your hospitality.” Impatient to leave the awkward situation, you gestured to James to enter his bedroom, trailing in behind you, keeping a faux smile on your face, up until the door closed behind you.

In an instant, apology after apology spluttered from James, trying to explain. You were vaguely listening, although you were more focused on the room around you. You liked the detail and the Gryffindor pride. Moving posters of different Quidditch players lined the walls, covering the red and white wallpaper. In a corner, a pile of muggle vinyls were stacked together, tied together by a pink ribbon, which you could only assume was gifted by Lily. The room was surprisingly tidy, different to the state of James’ dorms back in Hogwarts.

“I like your room.” You finally spoke, dragging a finger across a chest of drawers. A thin layer of dust rested on the pad of your finger, which you rubbed off on your skirt before turning back to the panicked boy before you.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“Don’t worry about it, James.” You comforted him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You forgot; that’s okay! I honestly don’t mind. It’s sort of what I signed up for anyway.” You laughed, hoping James would join in. He did.

***

Dinner went alright. You stayed quiet most of the time, only speaking when spoken to. You didn’t think Euphemia or Fleamont noticed, but you did get a peculiar look from Sirius, seemingly smirking at the way James and your seats were placed so close together.

After excusing yourself from the dinner table, you helped out in the kitchen with Fleamont, drying the dishes and putting them away in the cupboards. You were lost in your own thoughts, drifting off, keeping a smooth rhythm as you stacked plates.

“Lily, can you pass me the soap dispenser please?” You almost didn’t register what he was saying, a muted hum escaping your lips, until you realised you were being addressed. After apologising profusely for your tardiness, you handled the soap bottle to Mr Potter and carried on, hoping he wouldn’t start a conversation.

He did anyway.

“How’s James been treating you?” Fleamont quipped, a sly grin on his face. You knew what he was implying and shook it off, trying to keep the conversation as ambiguous as possible.

“Good. He’s been good.” He didn’t seem to buy it. “Lovely as always.” You gulped discreetly, disguising your nervousness as a yawn, which wasn’t missed by Fleamont.

“My dear, you look tired. You better retire for the night.” Nodding and saying your goodnights, you trod up the stairs, into the bedroom, where you were met by James, where only pajama shorts, reading Quidditch Through The Ages on his bed. You smiled, knowing that it was one of his favourites. He looked up when he saw you enter, smiling sheepishly, pointing towards the ensuite door.

“You can get changed in there, love.” Humming in agreement, you took a spare change of clothes into the bathroom and quickly returned, having brushed your teeth and washed your face as well. It wasn’t that late, but you felt inordinately tired, feeling as though you could pass out.

Collapsing on the soft bed, you pulled the duvet covers over your torso, letting your head hit the soft pillow. You nearly missed James whispering a small “goodnight darling” before falling into a dreamless sleep.

***

Tuesday 22nd December

Day two of whatever this was supposed to be had begun. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, not uncommon as James had always been an early bird and must’ve opened them himself. He wasn’t in bed when you rolled over, but you did notice the harsh sound of running water and an overwhelming smell of apple shampoo seeping into the bedroom.

Getting into some fresh clothes, you heard the water stop, buttoning up the last button on your blouse as James waltzed back into the bedroom, before seeing you. He stood like a deer in the headlights, water running smoothly down this toned skin, wearing only a towel around his hips.

“Why is it that I always catch you shirtless?” You tried to end the awkwardness by making a joke, reaching into James’ drawers and pulling out the first shirt you saw, throwing it across the room.

Because of James’ Quidditch skills, his fast reflexes caught the soaring shirt, catching it in one hand, unintentionally flexing his biceps. You shouldn’t have been staring, but the situation was too hard to read.

After standing still for a moment, you regained intelligence, snapping yourself out of your gaze. Muttering a quick apology, you dashed out of his bedroom, closing the door behind you. Pressing your back to the newly closed door, you shut your eyes tight, trying to forget the fresh memory in your mind.

“Trouble in paradise?” You opened one of your eyes to see Remus standing there too, novel in hand, also having his back pressed against the closed door.

“Shirtless.” The only words that could fall out of your mouth, making Remus bark with laughter, before clamping his hand over his mouth, an inch of sympathy showing in his eyes.

“Can’t be that bad of a sight, can it?” He joked, egging you on. You clutched your hands up to your face, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, but the worse past was that there was still so much more to come.

“Shut up Lupin.” You stuck your tongue out playfully at Remus, before bolting down the hallway, hoping to help Euphemia out with breakfast, like you said you would last night at the dinner table.

You were efficient in the kitchen, once again keeping talk to a minimum. Except today, you were feeling more comfortable with Euphemia, a more natural conversation gracing your time. It felt easier to speak. Maybe it was the fact that you had just had a good sleep, or maybe it was that you were actually feeling somewhat at home at the Potter’s residence.

Just as the bacon seemed to be completely cooked, James bursted through the door, Sirius and Remus in tow. James seemed to be the only one nervous, as the other two boys sat down at the table gleefully. Dishing up the breakfast, you handed the plates out to everyone.

Lastly, you handed a plate to James, trying your hardest to not make eye contact. You only stiffened when you felt James’s soft fingers accidentally brush against yours, tensing your muscles immediately.

“There you go,” you spoke in a voice so everyone could hear, “sweetheart.” You hissed the last word out in gritted teeth. Instead of sitting next to James like last night, you opted to sit directly in front of him, something that didn’t go unnoticed by James himself, who gave you a curious look at your choice in seating arrangements.

But before he could talk with you about it, you had finished your breakfast, immediately bouncing back into the kitchen, avoiding all signs of the messy haired brunette who was lurking around the ground floor.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. Mundane tasks, followed by awkward conversation, and running away. It wasn’t what you had thought when you offered the idea to fake date, but you realised how hard it actually was to pretend to be madly in love with someone.

It wasn’t until later in the night, when you were getting ready for bed, that you overheard James talking with Remus and Sirius. You knew you shouldn’t, but after hearing him say your name, you were too curious not to eavesdrop in. Pressing your ear against Sirius’ door, you prayed that Euphemia or Fleamont wouldn’t walk past any moment now.

“How’s it going with the whole fake dating thing?” It was Sirius’ voice, and there was a cheek to his voice. You rolled your eyes at his blatant teasing.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” It was James speaking this time. “Everything was going so well, especially yesterday, but after today, I’m a bit worried that my parents won’t believe.”

“What do you mean?” Remus’ voice held a question, an obvious inflection at the end of the sentence.

“I just wish she was a little more, you know,” a pause, “tactile. At least, a little more affection. She’s not playing the part well.”

You should’ve been hurt by James’ words but instead, you felt immense anger, and for what? You didn’t understand why you felt so annoyed by James’ harmless comment, but you did.

Begrudgingly, you languidly stomped back to James’ room, burying yourself under the covers, pretending to be asleep. You didn’t want to talk to him at the moment, in fear that you would just snap at him for the comments that he was making behind your back.

When James came back in about half an hour later, you felt a feeling of pressure being lifted from your chest, breathing easily as James tucked himself on the other side of you. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it was so much easier to sleep now that you knew that James was beside you. And so you did.

***

Wednesday 23rd December

It was an accident. You didn’t mean to wake up at the piss crack on dawn, wrapped in James’ arms. Sometime during the night, your sleeping form must’ve found its way to James. Your head was tucked in the crook of his neck, the soothing sound of his heartbeat rippling out. You felt safe.

Until you remembered that you were supposed to be mad at James. Carefully so you didn’t wake him, you slipped out of his arms, letting yours legs fall off the edge of the bed. Your warm toes made contact with cold hard wooden floors, making you jolt up in surprise. Looking back, you saw that James was still asleep, so you sighed, peeling out of the bedroom.

It was winter, so it wasn’t even that early in the morning. The grandfather clock in the living room was showing that it was just about to be seven, and that was good enough for you. Taking initiative, you decided to start cooking breakfast yourself, remembering the open invitation Euphemia gave you to use the kitchen whenever you want.

Cozying up to the stove, you placed the palms of your hands just over the radiating heat of the stove top, reveling in the delicious warmth that was defrosting every muscle in your body. Your mind was working overtime, trying to remember what James’ favourite breakfast was.

If James wanted an affectionate girlfriend, then he was going to get himself an affectionate girlfriend.

Mixing together a sweet pancake batter, you welcomed Euphemia into the kitchen. Praises filled the room, as you poured the dough into the pan, letting the bubbles rise to the top. In the meantime, you took out the bowl of fresh strawberries in the fridge, letting them come to room temperature on the kitchen counter tops.

Once again, James entered the kitchen right as you were serving up. Making sure it was as noticeable as possible, you sent a massive wink his way, catching him off guard. Grabbing a chopping board from the cupboard, you started slicing the tops off of the strawberries, to which James stopped you.

“Let me help darling.” He spoke, his morning voice making you feel something in your stomach that you weren’t expecting. Butterflies? Surely not. You shook the thought away, focusing back on flipping the pancakes on the stove tops.

After serving another freshly cooked pancake, your attention was pulled to James, a dopey smile on his face, strawberry juice staining his lips. “Y/- Lily, come over here.”

A bitter feeling rose in your chest at hearing Lily’s name, but you pushed it away, walking over to James’ workstation. He had a strawberry in his hand, beckoning you over to taste it. An idea sprouted in your head as you sashayed over, swinging your hips slightly.

You did what James wanted you to do, bending over slightly to place your lips around the sweet berry, letting your loving ‘boyfriend’ feed you. What he didn’t expect was after you had eaten the strawberry, you latched into his hands, wrapping your mouth around his fingers and gently sucking off the rest of the strawberry juice. It had caught him off guard but that’s what you wanted.

Today he was going to get all the affection you could give him.

At the breakfast table, you sat beside him, resting your hand on his thigh as you ate, leaning into him as you laughed at a joke Sirius had made. It wasn’t that funny but you wanted to prove a point. You wanted to prove that you could play the part of the doting girlfriend.

Soon, after breakfast, the Potter’s decided to go for a walk, so everyone joined in. Wrapping each other up in as much warm clothing as possible, everyone bundled outside together, minding the brisk breeze that was blowing through.

Holding James’ hand, you strolled calmly together, leaning your cheek against his arm and shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, but he didn’t keep sending you strange looks as you continuously clutched his arm, running your fingers up and down his skin. You couldn’t tell if the goosebumps were from hesitation or the cold.

It started snowing quite heavily so they decided to head back inside. James and Remus had been caught up in conversation for most of the walk, about who was better at wizard’s chess and had agreed to a competition to decide for once and for all.

Curled up on the couch, you sat beside James, one and curled around a mug of cocoa and the other places upon James’ thigh. He let you, nodding when you hesitated on placing your hand there the first time.

About an hour into their little competition, you felt a haze settle upon your eyes, rendering you tired. It was late afternoon though, not a good enough time to go to bed. Yawning, you placed your mug down on the coffee table, and stretched out over the couch, placing your head down on James’ lap. Subconsciously, his left hand followed the movements of your head, latching onto a piece of your hair and twirling around his finger.

You never slept, but you rested your eyes. You didn’t know for how long until you felt the familiar sound of Euphemia’s dream-like voice, calling you to dinner. Hurriedly, you placed a mushy kiss against James’ cheek and sat in the usual spot at the dinner table.

By now, conversation flowed more easily than it did the day before. You were now beginning to feel safe in the Potter environment, opening up to everyone more, letting yourself join the conversation.

When you were going off the bed, you placed one last public kiss on James’ cheek before lacing your hands together, pulling him up to the bedroom and winking at Sirius and Remus, knowing full well what it was suggesting.

Once you got behind the doors though, you were off him in an instant, searching through your bag for a spare change of clothes for the night. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, getting ready for bed in your own separate bubbles. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to speak to James, it was more that you didn’t know what to say to him after today. You were afraid that you had crossed a line.

“What was that today?” James finally broke the silence, a crack in his voice as you spoke. You spin around, a fake smile creeping onto your face.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” His voice was cool, sending shivers down your spine. Your smile dropped, replaced with a frown. You could almost feel a few tears edging at your waterline, threatening to spill over if you weren’t careful.

“I’m sorry.” You started, fiddling with your fingers. “It was just- I overheard what you said last night. You said you wish I was being more, uhm, tactile.” You felt embarrassed to say the word. “I just wanted to put in a bit more effort. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

James stayed quiet as he settled into bed. You followed suit, getting it just behind him. You faced away from him though, as your cheeks were now being stained by your tears.

“Y/N?” You heard James call from behind you, but you didn’t turn around.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was just strange seeing so much affection from someone who wasn’t Lily.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight Jamesie.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

***

Thursday 24th December

Once again, you woke up in James’ arms. Once again, you weren’t sure how you got there, but you weren’t complaining either way. Once again, you moved out of his arms before he noticed.

A new occurrence this morning though was he woke up by your movement.

“Oh, good morning love.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, although you didn’t know why. You kept your eyes closed, as they were still heavy from last night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it was plagued by fluffy dreams, all lead by a familiar bespectacled boy. You shook the thought from your mind, trying to open your eyes, but you couldn’t. You could barely mutter out a greeting.

“Hmm.” You grunted in acknowledgment, burying you head in the pillow. It smelt like James. A smile crept on your face without you realising.

“Tired?”

“Hmm.” You let out another whine, this one more pitiful, as you nuzzled you head against James’ arm, wanting to feel his warmth once again. Chuckling, he wrapped an arm around you before placing a calculated kiss on top of your head.

“Stay here darling.” You didn’t have to be told twice. As James left the bed, you stayed put, falling down where James was previously sleeping, laying horizontally along James’ bed as you fell back into your slumber.

You didn’t know how long you were out for, but you didn’t wake up to the sound of the creaking door opening and the clinking off ice against a glass of water. You tentatively opened one eye, letting in as much light as you would allow, adjusting to the new found sunlight. Slowly, you opened the next eye, so you could properly see what James was doing.

In his hands, he carried a breakfast tray, adorned with fresh ciabatta bread, yogurt, and a bowl of strawberries. The clinking sound before was coming from a glass of icy cold water, sitting next to a vase of peonies. Your favourite flower. You flushed at the fact that James had remembered something so miniscule.

“Breakfast in bed for the princess.” James joked, letting you sit up filling before placing the tray on your lap.

“What does that make you then? A prince?” You continued the joke, folding back a bit of the duvet to let James hop back into the bed too. There was double of everything on the tray, so you assumed one helping was for James.

You gave him a plate of breakfast as you slowly miches on yours, your mind too preoccupied to think about breakfast. All you could think about was why you were feeling so nervous around James. Why was your heart racing? Why were your cheeks flushing? Why were your hands clamming up?

“Open wide.” You whipped you head around to see James with a goofy grin on his face, holding a strawberry in his hand. Remembering what happened yesterday, you took a bite of the berry, purposely not continuing how you did yesterday and licking his fingers.

A disappointed pout returned to his face. “No finger sucking? Aww what’s wrong?”

“Did you want me to suck your fingers, Prince James?” You poked him playfully on his side. “It would be highly inappropriate. We aren’t even married yet. What a scandal.” You spoke in an over the top British accent, mimicking stereotypical royal figures.

“Oh, don’t worry Princess Y/N, I wouldn’t mind have you in my bloodline.”

“Hm, Princess Y/N of the Potter residence.” You jokingly thought for a moment. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

As you giggled together, you heard a knock at the door, followed by a “I’m coming in.” The doorknob turned and Euphemia emerged from behind the door. “How is my happy couple going?”

You kept the smile on your face, not letting it falter and break character. A little voice in the back of my mind was angry, upset that Euphemia had interrupted the moment, but ultimately you thought that maybe it was for the best. You needed to keep the flirting for the public eyes only.

“Hey Mum.” James cheered. You looked back to him and noticed the same smile on his face, like it hadn’t fallen. Like, he hadn’t even noticed that Euphemia had called us a couple.

“It snowed again last night so we’re snowed in for the day. Do you two have any plans?” She asked, her eyes flickering from between us.

“I have a lot of homework to do so I might do that today.” You spoke quietly, a little embarrassed that you wanted to do homework. You didn’t actually want to do homework, but you felt like you need to be occupied by something, to control an inner urge that was bubbling inside of you.

“Come on!” James whined, letting his head fall down on your shoulder. You got immediately warm from his touch. “It’s the holidays! You can’t seriously be doing homework?”

“I have stuff to catch up on.”

“Like what?”

“Like, um, stuff.”

“Would you kids like to do some baking for Christmas tomorrow?” Euphemia suggested, to which James lit up like a Christmas tree, completely infatuated by the idea.

“Yes, yes, yes.” James repeated, rushing out of bed, but carefully enough to not spill the tray everywhere. You followed suit, pulling on a dressing gown and entering the kitchen with an enthusiastic James.

That’s how the rest of the day went. You and James stayed in the kitchen all day, still wearing your sleeping pajamas, fooling around and baking.

You started with making Christmas cake, but soon found out that James was rather good at baking himself. He took the reigns, busily working as you helped out, doing the chopping and measuring for him.

At one point, James’ eyebrows were furrowed together in concentration for over two minutes. You were getting restless, the perfection needed for baking boring you, so you decided to have some fun. Pinching your finger together, you gathered up a handful of flour, flinging it at an unsuspecting James. He turned around slowly, his cheek covered in white powder, before an evil grin consumed his face.

“Oh, you’re on, L/N.”

That’s how most of the baking went with James that day. Joking around, flinging ingredients at each other. By the end of it, you could hardly tell the difference between the kitchen floor and your aprons.

At the end, you had made Christmas cake, gingerbread cookies, and a loaf of bread. Happy with your haul, you went into the living room to call the rest of the members of the household to inspect the food.

“Come see what we made.” You and James called, standing underneath the archway from the kitchen and the living room. As you were about to step away, you heard a halting sound.

“Uh uh, wait up.” You turned back around to see Fleamont with a cheeky smile on his face, pointing at the two of you. You didn’t know what he was pointing at but Euphemia, Sirius, and Remus did, following Fleamont’s arm and laughing when they saw it.

Gazing upwards, you looked to see what the big fuss was about. Your face fell in an instant. Hanging above you and James was a freshly picked mistletoe plant.

You grimaced at the thought, feeling guilty. It was one of the rules you had set. No kissing on the lips. Surely Remus and Sirius knew that, but they were too busy laughing their asses off to remember.

Looking back at James, you gulped. You stared up at his cerulean blue eyes, your hand shaking beside you slightly. James’ eyes were raking your face, searching for any sign of consent. You nodded soon after realising what he was doing and you let him cup your face, bringing you closer than you’ve ever been.

“Are you okay with this?” James whispered for only you to hear. You kept leaning forward until you were only millimetres away from touching when you breathed out your last word of consent: “yes.”

Your lips met in the middle. It was soft and sweet, not wanting to push what was already fragile. James’ left hand stayed cupping your cheek, holding you face still as his right hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. It was magical, as if all your happiness you had ever felt was wrapped together and given to you right there. You had your hands resting on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat underneath you like a song from the heavens.

When you pulled away, your eyes lingered a little longer in James’, the eye contact you were holding inescapable and passionate. Your head felt heavy, your eyelids weighing you down as a wave of exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Discreetly, you yawn behind you hand, a gesture that wasn’t missed by James, who reached out for your wrist, running his thumb up and down your hand.

“Let’s go get you some sleep, hm?” An affirming sound escaped your mouth as you trailed behind James. Back in his bedroom, you collapsed on the bed, your lips still tingling from the sensual kiss just moments before.

The two of you were silent as you got ready for bed. Working harmoniously beside each other, you changed, and did your repetitive nightly routine, just to end up in the same place as always; on opposite sides of the bed, unable to make conversation. Luckily for you, James was onto it.

“I’m so sorry,” he started, but when you tried to butt in, he cut you off, continuing his rant. “I knew that was one of the rules and I broke it. I should’ve just said no and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. You didn’t deserve to have your boundaries crossed. I’m sorry for pressuring you into something you weren’t ready for.”

You stayed silent for a moment, soaking in his words before you began yourself. “James, I didn’t mind. You didn’t take advantage of me. It’s completely okay. And what’s that famous saying, rules are meant to be broken.”

Your pathetic attempt to joke was shut down as James didn’t say anything, nor move, just staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Huffing, you rolled over, trying to let slumber take you away, but you couldn’t. There was a chill in the house tonight, another snow storm heading your way. You shuddered as a draft blew through.

“You’re cold.” James finally spoke, yet it was an obvious statement, as you were still shaking under a blanket, your teeth starting to chatter.

“Come here.” You turned around, seeming as if you had misheard him, but you saw what you were afraid of. James’ arms were wide open, beckoning you to fall asleep with him wrapped around you, keeping you safe.

So you did.

***

Friday 25th December

Christmas morning was perfect. As you fluttered open your eyes, you once again found yourself situated in James’ arms, the only difference was that he was awake too, his radiant smile beaming down on you, making you feel warm and cuddly on the inside.

Breakfast was simple, as everyone was mostly preparing for Christmas lunch. You tried to help out as much as possible but Euphemia always shut you down, insisting that you had helped out enough and that you needed a break. So, you sat patiently on the couch, munching slowly on an apple, the juice running smoothly down your face.

“Good morning Lily.” James had appeared beside you, placing a soft kiss on your temple. The words falling from his mouth were more acidic than the juice dripping from your chin. Your returning smile was filled with bitterness, something James picked up on, his nose scrunching up as he surveyed your emotions.

“G’morning Jamesie.” You slurred, gritting your teeth together, detesting the name you were just called. Still unable to figure out why, James gave you a look, a look that just said “what?” It hurt, knowing that he wouldn’t know why it spurred you on so much.

Fleamont soon joined you in the living room, taking the armchair in the middle of the room, burying himself in the comfort. Politely, you nodded towards him, acknowledging his presence, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“How did you two sleep?” He asked, gesturing between the two of you, to which you both smiled.

“Just fine, thank you, any you?” You responded for the both of you, feeling James’ hand curl around you own, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Just fine, although, I was walking down the hallway during the night and I noticed something peculiar.”

Unsure of what he meant, you egged him on. “What did you notice?”

“Your bedroom door was open, son; the pesky draft must’ve opened it. There was moonlight streaming in from the window, and I noticed the two of you curled up together.” Fleamont looked directly at you. “I didn’t realise the two of you were at that stage of your relationship.

As Fleamont winked at the two of you, your mouth fell open, appalled, as James was laughing like a maniac beside you. It wasn’t until Euphemia came into the living room to break apart their banter to get together for Christmas lunch.

It was a peaceful meal of casual conversation and light jokes. You stayed quiet most of the time, actually rather enjoying listening in on the fascinating stories that Euphemia and Fleamont were telling about James when he was a child. Soon, the conversation turned towards the future, and all eyes were on you.”

“Dear, what would you like to do when you leave Hogwarts?” It should’ve been an easy question to answer but you were stumped, unsure if you should answer as Lily or as yourself. Unable to think of something Lily would say, you decided to answer as you would.

“Actually, I want to study in a muggle university. Literature, or maybe anthropology. I’ve always been interested in learning about the world and my heart has always been somewhat attached to the muggle world. It’s where I want to flourish.” Embarrassed by your little monologue, you flushed a deep red, before turning back towards your ham.

“How inspiring,” Euphemia said, clapping her hands together in delight, “and what about marriage? Have you thought about settling down?”

You almost choked on your food at the question, catching you completely off guard. All eyes were on you and James now, with Sirius and Remus trying not to disturb anyone as they laughed in the distance.

“Uhm,” you looked at James for guidance but he also seemed just as uncomfortable as you were. “I haven’t thought that far through, to be completely honest.”

“Oh, but dear,” Euphemia looked positively thrilled. “We would be absolutely delighted for you to join our family. Lily Potter, my beautiful and caring daughter-in-law.”

“Okay, how about we clean up now, yeah?” Thankfully, James had broken up the conversation, offering to clean up the plates. Eager to leave the uncomfortable situations you helped bring in the stacks of food, offering to split it up, and repackage it for later consumption. You worked efficiently, avoiding anyone with the last name Potter at all cost.

When everything seemed to be tidied up, the Potter parents insisted that everyone sit around together for the gift giving portion of Christmas. Quietly, you rushed back to the bedroom, getting out the small gifts you had brought everyone for the Christmas season while you were out the other day.

Sitting amongst everyone, it felt like everything was back to normal. No more awkward conversations about the future plagued the atmosphere, just joyous laughter and pure happiness circling the room.

Firstly, you gave small presents to Sirius and Remus, including some quills for school, and gunpowder for pranks. You gave Euphemia and Fleamont some Christmas fudge that you had found, as well as a thank you note, thanking them for letting you stay over the Christmas season. Lastly, you handed a small box to James, a lacy ribbon decorating it.

“Open it.” You spoke in an almost whisper, as James’ fingers fiddled with the ribbon. As it fell open, you heard the small gasp from James, as he took the chain out of the box.

It was a small silver bracelet, yet it was decorated by a tiny, dangling gem, the colour of the deep blue ocean, something that seemed to have enchanted the bespectacled boy.

“It’s a sapphire.” You said, running your fingers over the cold chain. “It’s supposed to represent honesty, trust, loyalty. Everything that embodies you.” You spoke with so much weight in your chest, speaking from the deepest depths of your heart. Everything you said was true.

Swooping down, James pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering a hushed “I love you” under his breath, so faint that you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to hear it.

The rest of the presents were handed out, until there was only one left underneath the Christmas tree. With a smile on his face, Fleamont reached down underneath the tree, grabbing the package and passing it to you.

It should’ve been a happy moment, a moment where you truly felt like you belonged in the Potter house. It did at first as the smile seemed to never be able to falter, until you stared down at the packaging, noticing the name ‘Lily Evans’ written in cursive. A single tear ran down your face as you realised something harsh in that very moment. It was always going to be Lily Evans, never Y/N L/N.

The feeling got worse as you carrot undid the wrapping paper, revealing a collection of polaroid photographs. They were all different shots of you and James throughout the holidays. Curled up on the couch, baking in the kitchen, out on the walls, sucking the juice off of his fingers. The last one made you laugh as you remembered the memory that had now turned fond.

“I love them. Thank you so much.”

The day was mostly mundane, just filled with more activities, like chess, or cleaning to fill in the time. It seemed like everyone was just waiting for the snow to melt, so they could all go back outside again. You knew James was just itching to play with his Quidditch set outside.

Strangely enough, you found yourself outside in the snow, wrapped up tight from the weather. The snow had stopped falling for a peaceful moment, so you thought it would be the perfect time to get some fresh air, away from the overwhelming company.

You were soon joined though, as you heard the front door open and close from behind you. You didn’t even have to guess who it was as they stood beside you, taking in a deep breath, exhaling visibling in the frosty air.

“How are you doing?” James looked over to you, his eyes laced with concern. You shrugged, smiling that he seemed to care about you. It warmed you.

“Overwhelmed, but you’ve been perfect. All thanks to you, I think they might actually believe it.” You were now completely facing James now, looking up into his deep, aquamarine eyes, watching as the tint changed when the light hit the irises at a different angle. It was mesmerising.

You weren’t the only one mesmerised though. James couldn’t stop staring at your beauty. The way your eyes sparkled in the light. The way your skin catched the light snow that was starting to fall. Your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard, but it left you feeling unsatisfied. Before you could even respond, you had James by the collar of his sweater, pulling him down ever so slightly so your lips could meet with his. It was light fire and electricity, a thousand gusts of wind blowing through you, spilling into you like an endless thunderstorm. You kissed him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him, hungry, desperate, passionate.

You were in love.

***

Saturday 26th December

You had fallen asleep on the couch, slumped with James as he cocooned your sleeping body between his limbs. Unfortunately, your slumber had been awoken in the early hours of the morning by banging on the front door. Groggily, James got up, rubbing his head with his hands.

Running your fingers through your hair, you got up with him, putting on a sweater to make yourself look more presentable. James’ sweater, to be exact.

The four other residents of the house had now awoken from the persistent knocking and had joined us downstairs. It was just after sunrise so everyone was sort of dazed and out of it. With one last eye rub, James swung the door open to reveal the person standing there.

Lily Evans, with her hair like a roaring fire, cheeks naturally rosy, and eyes glinting like a morning sunrise, she stood there, clutching her hands nervously. As soon as she saw James though, she flung her arms around his neck, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A string of apologies came out of her mouth as tears started running down her cheeks, dark mascara staining her porcelain skin. A confused look was shot my way as Euphemia just stared between the two of us, unsure of what to do.

“Hello darling.” Euphemia’s motherly voice was out to play. ”If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

“Oh sorry for not introducing myself.” Lily removed herself from James’ figuring, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, as she stuck her hand out to be shaken. “I’m Lily Evans, nice to meet you.”

Then, Lily noticed your looming form sending a curious look your way. It wasn’t the only look of confusion. Euphemia and Fleamont were almost unreadable as you flicked between the two of them.

It was time to come clean.

“This is Lily Evans, my ex girlfriend.” James had the same idea as you, introducing the red headed girl to his parents finally.

“And this is Y/N L/N, my close friend.”

Friend.

That’s all you were. That’s all you would ever be, compared to Lily.

It took a bit of explaining and sitting Fleamont and Euphemia down to fully explain the plan. You started off with the breakup and then talked about the devilish plan, saying that all you wanted to do was keep Christmas light and cheery. All you got were uncomfortable looks from James’ parents.

When everything was laid out on the table, Fleamont got up and left, obviously disappointed in the choices you and his son had made. Euphemia looked as though she had just swallowed a bee, lips pursed as she contemplated the next move.

“Well, Y/N,” the name fell bitterly for her lips; it sounded so foreign, so unnatural. “You are happy to stay with us until tomorrow. It was nice to finally meet you.”

That was the full extent of the conversation. For the rest of the day, it seemed as though Fleamont and Euphemia were keeping James and you away from each other, always asking one or the other to help with chores, or to do a mundane activity with them.

It wasn’t until night time dawned on the residence. The atmosphere had unfortunately changed after Lily’s short and unexpected visit. Her exit was speedy after her unprompted entrance, an uneasy ripple of tension in the house.

When it was time to sleep, Euphemia had shown you to a spare room, taking initiative to set you up somewhere separate, now knowing that you weren’t actually dating James. It was cold though, empty and alone, and as you tried to sleep, your hands kept trailing to James’ side of the bed, searching for him.

You took it upon yourself to take matters into your own hands. Creeping through the house, you found yourself outside of James’ bedroom door. Quietly, you knocked, waiting a few seconds before entering. James was lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the open curtain which was letting in trickles of moonlight. When you entered, he looked back at you, his lips parted slightly in shock.

“Can I…?” Your voice trailed off as you couldn’t bare to finish your sentence in embarrassment, but James seemed to know what you were alluding to, pulling back the covers almost immediately.

“Of course.”

***

Sunday 27th December

You woke in early hours of the morning. It was intentional, not wanting to be found in James’ bed again. It would be scandalous. You laid back in your new bed, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping you could go back asleep, but sleep couldn’t find you.

Before breakfast had started, you had packed you bags, ready to catch the train at ten o’clock. An early breakfast run was needed as you munched some Christmas leftovers, opposite sides of the table from James. You still hadn’t talked about what had happened. Even last night, you had only just cuddled until you both had fallen asleep. Your feelings till needed to be addressed.

Hurriedly, the four Hogwarts students were aparated back to King’s Cross Station by Euphemia and Fleamont, both with sorrowful looks on their faces. They were hugging their son goodbye, then moving onto Sirius and Remus, hugging them like they were also their children. You shifted awkwardly in the group.

“And we can’t forget you, now can we, Y/N?” It was still strange hearing your own name come from their lips, but you welcomed it, slightly happy to be the only receptor of the love now. As you were pulled into a jug by Euphemia, you could hear the last words she spoke to you. “Thank you for looking after my son. I’d be happy to have you as my daughter-in-law.”

Last minute goodbyes were said as you all bundled up onto the train, finding a carriage right in front of where Euphemia and Fleamont were standing. You waved cheerfully at them as the train pulled out of the station, a chapter of your life closing.

You hadn’t noticed Remus and Sirius had stepped out of the carriage, giving you and James some much needed privacy. There wasn’t much that needed to be said though. Everything that needed to be communicated had already been done through awkward glances and small looks.

“Hey.” His voice was almost silent.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“What are we?”

“Whatever you want to be.” You eventually said. James hummed in agreement, resting his head in his hand.

“Onwards?”

You smiled.

“Onwards.”

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am- 

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I-  i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black. 

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

[lizzy-williams]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

🎄Warnings: Smut, threesome, alcohol, drug use, language, mature themes, a tiny bit of dubcon but not much, mega age gap.

🎄Masterlist

🎄Summary: After one of Colson Baker’s infamous adult Christmas parties, you decide to stay a little longer than everyone else and end up getting snowed in. One drink after another, things get interesting with one of LA’s hottest couples. 

🎄Theme: Jawbreaker, Machine Gun Kelly

🎄A/N: Sorry I had to sin during the season of your birthday, Jesus. (No I’m not.)

“And that’s how we met.”

Megan had finished her story, the people that remained at the party all gathered around, sharing spiked eggnog in cozy sweaters and blankets, swapping stories. 

Colson held her close, and secretly, [ y / n ]’s heart would clench every time she would see them together. Because the fact of the matter was, was that she had fallen. For both of them.

But she knew that nothing would ever come of it. Because all you were to them was Rook’s 18 year old, alcohol-drinking, weed smoking cousin. A face that they would see everywhere, but never cared to meet or start a conversation with. Her infatuation with the two of them only grew, and she had always felt guilty for it. 

Rightfully so, because she was crushing on two people that were taken by each other. If that wasn’t guilt inducing, nothing else was. 

But nonetheless, she sat and listened, hanging on to every word they spoke, and she swore she could feel her heart skip a beat whenever one of them, or both of them, would look at her as they spoke. 

After a few more stories, the guest numbers started to dwindle. Soon there were only 8 people left, the rest of the party-goers not wanting to stick around and help clean up. 

Slim, Kells, Megan, Rook, Dub, Mod, Travis, and [ y / n ] were the only ones who were left, and it seemed as if Travis and [ y / n ] were the only ones sober enough to even start cleaning up. 

Everyone was in the living room, listening to music and doing their own thing, Kells, Rook, Slim, and Mod starting a game of pool while Megan hung on Kells like an ornament does a Christmas tree, cheering him on and helping him out, Mr. Baker drunk as all hell. 

When [ y / n ] and Travis were done cleaning up, Mod had already left, Rook and Slim already stumbling to their rooms, most likely passed the fuck out by now. [ y / n ] had to say, her cousin knew how to hold his liquor. How could he not with Colson as a friend?

Travis soon spoke up, “I think I’m gonna head out, there’s supposed to be a pretty bad snow storm. Dunno if you wanna get caught in that, [ y / n ].”

She gave a chaste nod in response, giving him a hug and wishing him farewell, before slipping into the kitchen. From the counter she stood at, she could hear the couple saying their goodbye to Travis, soon hearing the front door open and close, a chilly breeze sweeping through the house. 

[ y / n ] had already poured herself a drink, and usually she was a cocktail kinda girl. But after having to spend the whole night watching Colson and Megan literally being on top of each other, she needed something stronger. 

“Scotch on the rocks, huh?” 

[ y / n ]’s eyes flickered up, only to be met with Megan’s eyes as she leaned on the counter, looking at [ y / n ]’s drink as the young girl put the bottle of alcohol back into a cupboard. 

She flashed a friendly smile as she made her way back, “Yeah, just thought it would be nice to change it up a little bit.”

“I have to say that your cocktails are pretty good though,” Megan slumped in her position, looking at her with puppy-dog eyes, (obviously drunk), and [ y / n ] already knew what it meant. 

A Sex on the Beach was her favorite, and she knew by the compliment, she wanted the young woman to make one for her, and [ y / n ] let out a sigh, and Megan gave a pouty face in response. But [ y / n ] could never say no to her. 

Soon enough, she found herself with the needed ingredients in front of her, an orange-hued cocktail glass to add a little... pazazz if you will. 

Megan looked on in intoxicated wonder, watching as the other woman poured the cocktail, without even measuring anything. And after [ y / n ] garnished it with a cherry. 

Megan let out a sigh as she felt Colson slip up behind her, his arms around her waist, causing [ y / n ] to look up, looking right back down at the counter when she noticed the display of affection that just made her nauseous. It’s not that she found it gross. But more-so wishing that she was in both positions. 

“Ah, thanks for the drink,” Colson smirked, taking advantage of the whisky that sat there on the counter. 

[ y / n ] wanted to make a sound of protest, but when she caught sight of his fingers wrapped around the glass, the noise stopped half-way up her throat. 

God, his fingers are so sexy, fuck, I wonder with they could reach my cervix when he does it up to the knuckles- Wait, stop, [ y / n ], you’re being weird, stop. 

.”You know, you somehow even make a whiskey on the rocks somehow taste better. Dunno how you do it, you can’t even drink yet,” Colson praised, [ y / n ] wincing at the fact that he mentioned her age. 

It was true, she was the baby of the group. At only age 18, the boys were very protective of her, and it always made her self conscious, alway being treated like a baby. She liked to think of herself as a girl who’s mind was beyond her years, hating that she was born at the wrong time. 

She mumbled out a quick ‘thanks’ before sliding Ms. Fox her drink, a smile spreading across her face as she got giddy, squealing as she took a sip, a face of almost pleasure crossing her expression. 

“Holy shit, [ y / n ]. You’re the fucking best, fuck,” she admired, taking a long sip this time, Colson making childish grabby hands at the drink, the woman making a big show of presenting it to him, which of course included him rubbing her ass right against hit groin, making him let out a low groan, his head dropping in her neck. 

“You know, [ y / n ], we would love it if you stayed the night. Besides, there’s a really bad storm, we wouldn’t want you out on the road,” looking at Colson, nudging him as queue to agree. 

All she got was a nod. 

“Thanks, I think I’ll just crash on the couch or something,” [ y / n ]’s voice was barely audible, the pda in front of her making her slightly uncomfortable. 

“Nahhhh, you d-don’t need to, [ y / n / n ],” Colson was now slurring, “You can just sleep in our bed,”

[ y / n ] let out a small laugh, amused by his drunk offer. But after a few serious looks being thrown in her direction, she realized they were serious.

“Oh, y-you mean it, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Come oooon,” Megan wiggled out of Cols’ grasp, walking to the other side of the counter, grabbing [ y / n ]’s hands and guiding her away, dragging her up the stairs, Colson slowly finding his way behind them. 

When they finally made it to the master bedroom, Megan looked at [ y / n ] with a smirk, “Come on, you can’t sleep in that, you can borrow some of my things, just for tonight.”

“Are you sure, that’s not necessary, I-”

Megan shushed her, “Shh, it’s fine, it’s the least I can to. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, ‘tis the season of giving,”

She suddenly pulled her in the bathroom, the closet connected in the back, but not before Colson suggested he slipped in the bathroom with them. [ y / n ] both scoffed and rolled their eyes, closing the door behind them. 

“Strip,” Megan said. 

[ y / n ] blinked, “h-huh?” 

“For the clothes, silly, you aren’t gonna put it over your clothes,”

Megan patted to the closet, rustling around, soon coming out with a shirt and some shorts.

“Here, go ahead ‘n get dressed,”

“What, like right here?” [ y / n ] asked, anxiety obviously shooting up. 

Megan let her hands rub over [ y / n ]’s shoulders, “Don’t sweat it, we’re both girls, we all have the same parts,”

[ y / n ] nodded shyly, taking off her dress-up shirt, then slipping off her pants, left in nothing but a bra and panties on. Megan then spoke up from behind her, making eye contact with [ y / n ] in the mirror, “You have a really beautiful body,”

[ y / n ] dismissed it as a drunk comment, and was about to slip the donated shirt on, but Megan stopped her before a second arm slipped into it. 

“Aren’t you going to take off your bra? Heard it can cause bad stuff for your chest. Besides, that bra is too pretty to ruin.”

She nodded slowly, now avoiding Megan’s prying eyes, getting behind her and unclasping her bra for her. Megan watched it was it dropped, starring at her breasts. 

The young woman cleared her throat, trying to get her tempting thoughts out of her head, slipping the rest of the clothes on, and was about to walk out of the door, before Megan once again stopped her.

“Hey,” she started, “You’re beautiful,” Megan then leaned over, leaving a soft kiss on [ y / n ]’s forehead, and if she wasn't red before, she was definitely red now. 

It was all so random. Coming out of nowhere.

Opening the door, [ y / n ] tried her hardest to forget what just happened, but it was all she could think about.

Colson already seemed like he was on the brink of sleep, the light from the TV being the only thing illuminating the room. But when his attention focused on the two women walking towards him, getting ready to slip into bed with him, he was wide awake. 

[ y / n ] paused for a second, stopping in her tracks, she wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to do next, let alone what she was about to do. What the fuck even was this? A drunken idea that will be discarded in the morning, the two of them dismissing it because they were too drunk to remember?

Or did this mean something? Was this a sign? What if they both-

“Come on, [ y / n ], I don’t bite, Colson smiled, patting the spot right next to him, Megan nodding in confirmation.

“Y-Yeah, sure, okay,” her words came out faster than anticipated, making her sound like she was babbling like a toddler. 

Before she could embarrass herself anymore than she already did, she did as she was told, [ y / n ] slipping into the covers as she made room for Megan on the king-sized bed. 

But when Colson pulled her in, her head now on his chest, she could feel her heart beating a million miles a minute. And at first, she thought that Megan would disapprove. This was her boyfriend we were talking about. 

But when she hopped into bed, she objected for a different reason than expected. 

“Hey, don’t hog her, I want some cuddles too,” she whined, latching onto [ y / n ] by wrapping her arms around her waist and nuzzling her face in the back of the girl’s neck.

But Megan could sense [ y / n ]’s heartbeat, and she almost smirked to herself because she was part of the reason. 

“Come on, [ y / n ], it’s just us,” she soothed, hoping it would help with nerves. 

Colson himself gave a small squeeze of reassurance, then reaching over to his bedside table and pulling out a joint, lighting it. 

“You want first hit?” he passed it to [ y / n ] and she nodded. If anything were to calm her down, it would be this. At least relieve some tension. 

Soon enough, the joint was burned up to the filter, the room smelling like weed as the three of them relaxed, watching the movie that was on the screen. Colson was now sobered up a little bit. But he wouldn’t dare change the situation that he was in. Not for a hundred bucks. Not even for a million. 

[ y / n ] was nuzzled deeply into his chest now, Megan playing with her hair as she gave a look to Colson. 

As soon as the movie ended, Colson looked over to [ y / n ] who was sleeping peacefully, she soft breaths enough to make the couple fall asleep. Megan let out a small ‘aw’ before gently kissing her forehead just like she did in the bathroom. 

“Goodnight [ y / n ],”

Colson imitated her action, doing the same as she whispered Megan’s exact message, before pretending to fall asleep. 

But both of them weren’t sleeping. They were just hoping that the other one wasn’t going to find out about what they were about to do. They couldn’t resist. [ y / n ] was right there, and the both of them had a connection to the girl, so how could they not?

Colson made the first move. He let his free hand reach over his body, letting his hand drift gently over her thighs, making her shift just the slightest in her sleep. Soon enough it reached her calfs, then right where he wanted it, her covered clit his next target, pressing lightly on it, knowing the pressure would get to her, maybe even enough to wake her up. 

But she was sleeping like a rock, and all he was getting was whimpers and mutters of profanity in her sleep. 

It wasn’t until he felt another hand down there that he stopped and froze in his tracks. He suddenly looked over and whisper yelled.

“Megan??” 

She had the same response, “Colson??”

They both had the same goal. But it was somewhat relieving. Because the other couldn’t blame the feelings they had for the 18 year old. And Megan thought that she was the only one who had the sinful thought of touching her and making her make sultry noises in her sleep, feeling the gratification that she, in fact, made them happen. 

But now things changed. Now she didn’t feel so indifferent about her displays of affection for the girl, and neither did Colson. Because there were always the intentional touches every now and again. Always having the excuse to reach over [ y / n ], his hand touching her lower waist, which also made her turn a shade of dark pink, goosebumps erupting in it’s wake.

Now things had changed. 

Megan switched on the lamp on her side, giving a knowing look to Colson, knowing what they wanted to do next. They just prayed that [ y / n ] would want to do it too. 

Megan leaned over, leaving kisses across [ y / n ]’s neck as she let her hands slip up her shirt, dragging her nails across her stomach. Once Colson saw that [ y / n ]’s eyes were fluttering open, he suddenly grabbed her, making her squeak, pulling her into his lap as the kissed her on her lips. 

It may have been the sleepy haze, or maybe the weed, but [ y / n ] found herself kissing back as he held her close, now shifting herself to straddle his waist, their tongues poking and playing with each other while Megan let out a huff of disapproval, for Colson, once again hogging the girl. 

Megan ended up leaning up to her neck once again, her hands drifting everywhere she pleased, [ y / n ] letting out soft noises. 

Suddenly, Colson flipped her on the bed, before stripping her almost completely, except for her shirt. 

“That’s my shirt, you know,” he smirked, knowing Megan might have done that on purpose. 

This time, Megan’s hand sliding farther up, touching her beasts, lifting up the shirt just above them, bringing her mouth to the nipples, sucking them. Colson slipped his clothes off, trying to match the girl in front of him, Megan soon following suit, deciding to take off Colson’s shirt, leaving [ y / n ] completely in the nude. 

Their hands were all over her, making her squirm, getting self conscious. She was in front of the two most beautiful people she knew, and somehow they wanted her, my some miracle. But yet, she was relived, because she didn’t need to hide such dangerous feelings. Here, she thought her thoughts would split the couple apart. But what was about to happen was going to strengthen their bond for all three of them. 

Colson waisted no time getting between [ y / n ] legs, making contact with her clit as she let out a whimper. So many times, she had pictured this. Every time she touched herself, she pictured him doing it and not her hand, and it was finally happening. 

[ y / n ] then decided to make a daring move, reaching her hand down to Megan’s clit, rubbing soft circles around the bud, making her feel perfect. Sure, Colson could make her cum. But [ y / n ] was a woman. She knew what a woman’s body wants. What a woman’s body needs, and soon enough, the two women were about to fall off the edge. 

And they did, and Colson didn’t know which one to focus his attention on. It was beautiful to watch both of the women who were closest to him reach a state of nirvana. Especially at the same time. 

He then kissed up [ y / n ]’s stomach as she was just then coming down to Earth, then hovering over her, kissing her passionately. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it was the hottest thing she thought she could experience that night. 

But Christ, was she wrong. 

“Let me have a taste, Cols,” Megan muttered, Colson eagerly complying, slipping his hand down to [ y / n ]’s clit to rub soft circles as he kissed his girlfriend, the afterglow of her orgasm somehow making her more beautiful. 

[ y / n ] turned her head, muffling her moans against the crook of Megan’s neck, her heavy breaths making the older woman squirm at the warm sensation. 

When the couple broke the kiss, Colson suddenly positioning himself at [ y / n ]’s entrance, kissing her neck, sucking dark marks all over her soft spots. But a wave of anxiety crashed over her as she pushed him back, stopping both him and Megan in their tracks, automatically concerned. 

“W-Wait, I’ve never... I haven’t-” she struggled to get her words out, Colson filling in the blanks. 

“You’re a virgin?” Megan suddenly cut in. 

“How are you even related to Rook- Ow-” Colson got a smack on the chest from Megan, giving him a look. 

“What better way to loose your virginity than to share it with more than one person?” Megan suggested. 

“I just... can you hold my hand?” she asked Megan like a child, and she automatically obliged, intertwining their fingers and placing a soft kiss on her nose. 

“Anything for you.”

“Are you okay to keep going?” Colson asked sensitively, and [ y / n ] gave a small nod before taking a deep but shaky breath. 

As she let a breath out, he began to insert the tip, making [ y / n ] gasp, a new discomfort in her cunt she had never felt before. And fuck he was big. But if there was one thing that was known about [ y / n ], it was that she wasn’t a quitter. She had made it this far. 

After a few seconds of whispered praises from the both of them, [ y / n ] bit down on her lip as she began to push in farther, the girl squeezing Megan’s hand like it was the last thing she would ever do. 

Soon enough, we was bottomed out inside her, giving her time to adjust, Colson kissing her collarbone as Megan kissed her jaw. After several minutes of cock-warming, [ y / n ] saw it fit to move, almost letting out a sigh of relief. 

Slowly, he started to move, trying his best to be as gentle as possible. Soon he began to go faster, and the ache in [ y / n ]’s core began to dissolve into pleasure as she felt every ridge and every vein as be slipped in and out of her. 

“Holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight, shit,” he cursed, beginning to go faster and faster, [ y / n ] feeling the coil inside her tighten. 

“m’gonna cum, can I please cum?” she asked desperately, Megan bringing their intertwined hands up to her lips, giving [ y / n ]’s hand a kiss.

“Of course you can, sweet girl, unravel on his cock,” her words leaving Colson speechless, her fingers slipping down to her clit, [ y / n ] letting out a yelp of pleasure. 

Soon enough, the coil inside her snapping like a twig as a mind-numbing orgasm, making her black out, passing out in pure euphoria, Colson pulling out and Megan suddenly lurching forward, her mouth on his tip, taking his cum in her mouth, swallowing everything he gave him. 

Tucking her under the covers, Colson smirked, letting it sink in that he was his first time, almost feeling as if she saved herself for this exact moment. 

And as [ y / n ]  finally slipped into peaceful sleep, Colson then went to his girlfriend, getting ready to give her a perfectly earned orgasm.

[raibebe]

Genre: Fluff Words: 6.879 Prompt: best friend Yangyang x female reader + “Stop hogging all the blankets!” Warnings: MC is an oblivious idiot, Yangyang is a sweetheart, mentions of injury

A/N: What do you mean Valentine’s Day was on the 14th and not on the 24th? Seems fake. AnYwAys: This was written for the Candy hearts collab hosted by @127-mile. Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write for my precious brezel baby. Thank you @ncteaxhoe for the lovely header after I went almost crazy...

Taglist: @byunniebaekhyunnie​

“You’re going on vacation with Yangyang?” “Yes.” “Your best friend?” “Yes.” “To an abandoned cabin in the woods.” “First it’s not abandoned, just very far out and second I don’t see where you’re going with this.” “Well are you?” You sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at Donghyuck who was sat in front of you in the library where you had met to have a little study session before you were leaving for the weekend. “Yes I am.” “On Valentine’s Day.” “It’s just because it’s on a weekend and it was cheap.” “You do see where I am going with this, right?” “I am not Donghyuck,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re literally the most stupid person I have ever met and I am friends with a bunch of idiots,” your friend whined, throwing the straw wrapper from his iced americano at you. “Hyuck what’s your problem? We’re literally just both stressed out from classes already and he found that offer that’s within both of our budgets. Nothing wrong about two friends chilling in a secluded cabin.” “Have you seen the freaking cabin?” Donghyuck whisper screamed, earning him a hiss from one of the students sitting on the table next to you. “I have, Hyuck.” “Then you might have missed the fact that this cabin coincidentally has a hot tub but only one bedroom?” He went on, waving his phone in front of your face where he had pulled up the website advertising the cabin. Groaning, you faceplanted into the books that were scattered around you. “Do you see what I mean now?” Donghyuck hissed, scrolling through the pictures on the website. “Hyuck listen. Yangyang and I are both kind of short on cash so the bigger cabins just weren’t going to make it if we wanted that hot tub. So we agreed that we could sleep in the same bed for a couple of nights, no big deal. Pretty sure you’ve done that with Mark, Jaemin and Jeno as well when you four went on spring break vacation.” “Don’t distract from the topic, that was entirely different,” Donghyuck mused but the slight blush covering his cheeks was betraying him. “Is it though?” You asked, a shit eating grin on your face. “When did this conversation turn into you commenting on my poor live choices?”

“Discussing Hyuck’s poor live choices? My favorite part time activity,” another voice joined into your conversation and Renjun plopped down next to his friend on the bench. “Can you smell my misery or something?” Donghyuck groaned, slumping back into his seat, dramatically staring at the high ceiling. “I wish I could,” the Chinese laughed, loudly slurping his iced drink of choice despite the chilly weather outside while completely ignoring the glares some of the students were shooting him, “No, I was supposed to meet Yangyang to give him my car keys but you’ll do.” With that he threw his keys onto the table. “It’s parked by the student center, should fit all of your stuff.” “Thank you Renjun,” you smiled, pocketing his keys. “There is a chance though that I am out of gas,” he grinned. “I knew there would be a catch,” the familiar voice of your best friend groaned before he plopped down next to you, loudly dropping his backpack onto the floor which again had people to glare at your little group. “I swear to god you’re going to get us kicked out,” Hyuck hissed, throwing Yangyang and Renjun disappointed glares. “Not like you were studying anyways,” Renjun rolled his eyes. “What were you doing?” Yangyang asked, flipping through the pages of one of your books. “Well I was trying to get a head start on my essay,” you groaned, “But Hyuck had other plans.”

“Exactly. Which brings me back to my point,” Donghyuck grinned, turning towards Yangyang, “Yang, so did you, by any chance notice that the cabin you’re staying at this weekend with your best friend on freaking Valentine’s Day conveniently only has one bed but features a hot tub?” “Oooooh,” Renjun mused, leaning forward into his elbows. “Well... We were short on money but wanted a hot tub?” Yangyang slowly answered, blushing under the intense gazes of both of his friends. “See Hyuck it’s exactly what I told you,” you groaned, “No big deal.” “Sure, just two friends sitting in a hot tub, five feet apart because they’re not in love,” Renjun sang. “The original sounds better,” Donhyuck said flatly. “Yeah but the both of them are disgustingly straight,” Renjun shrugged. “You make that sound like an insult,” Yangyang snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Anyways!” Donghyuck interrupted a little too loud, causing one of the students working in the library to actually walk over to your table to ask you to leave.

“Well great,” you groaned when you snuggled into your thick winter jacket once you were outside while Renjun and Yangyang couldn’t hold in their laughter anymore. “You guys are the worst,” you said and rolled your eyes even though you couldn’t stop the smile on your face from spreading. “You love us,” Donghyuck laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “We weren’t gonna get anything done anyways.” “And we still need to pack,” Yangyang added, “Also I still need the keys to the car.” “Catch,” you called and quickly threw the keys over to your best friend that Renjun had given you earlier, laughing as he struggled to catch them. “Treat her gently,” Renjun laughed, “Oh and she needs gas.” “Why did I expect anything else,” Yangyang groaned but pocketed the keys, “I’ll pick you up after your morning classes?” “Sure,” you smiled. “You’re leaving me alone in our literature class?” Donghyuck gasped, dramatically holding his heart. “Listen, it’s either listening to professor Quian all afternoon or drive to the cabin early, Hyuck. What would you do?” You giggled. “Fair,” he shrugged, “But I still feel betrayed.” “Yesterday you felt betrayed by that pizza place because you found one stray piece of pineapple on your pizza,” Renjun helpfully added. “That was an attack on my health,” he hissed, pointing his finger at his friend and roommate, “Pineapples do not belong on pizza.” “I am not having this discussion again,” you groaned and slipped out of Donghyuck’s grip, “I gotta pack my stuff.” “Yeah, have fun on your totally not couple’s vacation,” Renjun laughed. “It’s not a couple’s vacation,” you and Yangyang immediately shouted, giggling at each other afterwards. “You’re all disgusting, I am leaving,” Donghyuck declared, dragging Renjun with him in the direction of their dorm.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smiled at Yangyang. “Yeah, I’ll pick up Renjun’s car and get all the stuff inside. Be at your dorm at like 12.” “Sure, I’m really looking forward to this.” “Yeah, me too,” Yangyang said softly, a soft blush on his cheeks that must have been from the cold air. He quickly wrapped you up in a hug before waving goodbye to head over to the student’s center. Sighing you turned in the opposite direction to your own shoebox of a dorm room, skidding along excitedly. You really were looking forward to this vacation with your best friend.

The next day found you buzzing with excitement, quickly throwing the last things that had been missing into your bag before speeding to your morning classes that went by in a blur. In what felt like no time at all, you were rushing down the steps of your dorm to throw yourself into Renjun’s car and your arms around your best friend’s neck to squeeze him in a tight hug. “I’m so excited,” you squeaked once you let him go to heave in a couple of breaths. “I can tell,” Yangyang laughed, handing you his phone that was already connected to the AUX cord, “I spend two hours yesterday to make the perfect road trip playlist, so you better appreciate that.” “This better not suck,” you laughed as he started the car to start your journey.

The way up to the mountains found you and Yangyang singing along to his actually good playlist that included some of your favorite songs, your singing getting progressively worse and louder the higher up you got and the more snow was falling. After you had gotten lost just once or twice on the way to pick up the keys from a lady at the reception who handed you a big basket with rose petals, champagne and what seemed like condoms and lube. Heat had immediately risen to both of your faces and you had stumbled over your words for the rest of the conversation, relieved when you could finally leave and head over back to your car to drive up to where your small cabin was.

“This is so cozy,” you cooed once you had made it inside the cabin, dropping your bag right next to the door to race through the rooms that included a small but clean bathroom and small kitchen with the cutest old school curtains in front of the snowy windows and a door lead outside to where the hot tub was already steaming. The main room that you had come into had a small two-seater couch with a bunch of cozy blankets thrown over it standing in front of a little fireplace that both you and Yangyang were kind of scared to light but you had to eventually because that was all the heat you were going to get. “The bed is huge,” Yangyang exclaimed and the next thing you heard was a loud thump as he had faceplanted right into the mattress, currently starfishing out, his fingertips not reaching the ends of the bed. “But we only have one blanket,” you laughed, flipping up through the layers your best friend was laying on top. “Wait for real?” He asked, eyes wide and scrambling to take a look for himself. “I hope you like cuddling,” you giggled, tackling your best friend onto the bed who just screeched before he tried to get the upper hand in the tickle fight that had broken out.

“Okay, okay, I surrender,” you laughed with tears in your eyes and lifted your arms in defeat when he had you pinned beneath you, his fingers tickling your sides until you couldn’t breathe anymore. “You’re admitting defeat?” Yangyang laughed, all his teeth showing with how bright he was smiling, digging his fingers between your ribs one last time before he fell to the mattress next to you, you both panting heavily between giggles. When you turned your head to look at your best friend, he was already looking right back at you, something unreadable in his expression. For a while you just stared into each other’s eyes, the occasional noise of the wood of the cabin creaking the only sound you could hear. Had Yangyang’s eyes always sparkled like that in the low light? Or was it just more apparent now that he had dyed his hair back to his natural dark brown? You found your hand itching to push his too long bangs from his eyes so you could see them properly, captivated by how the edges crinkled up with how he was softly smiling.

The serene silence was very rudely interrupted by Yangyang’s stomach growling loudly which caused both of you to burst out into another fit of giggles. “I think that’s out cue to put the pizzas in the oven and to unpack,” you laughed, slapping your best friend’s shoulder when he made no move to get up, instead wrapping himself up in the throw blanket. “You’re so annoying,” you groaned and climbed off of the bed. “You love me,” he argued, sticking out his tongue at you. For some reason the easy answer of ‘Yes, I do’ got stuck in your throat and you just hummed before walking over to where you had unceremoniously dropped your bags by the door to get the half frozen pizzas and turned on the oven. What was wrong with you all of a sudden? You two always bickered like that. Screw Donghyuck for getting all up in your head before this trip. Nothing had changed. It was just you and your best friend spending a weekend together. Nothing unusual. That’s what friends did. It’s what Donghyuck did with his friends.

Staring blankly into the oven once you had put the pizzas in, you were lost in your thoughts that twisted and turned inside your head but didn’t seem to make any sense at all. “Are you mad at me?” Yangyang spoke and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, causing you to let out a high pitched screech from how surprised you were. “Don’t scare me like that,” you scolded him, trying to calm down your furiously beating heart. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, hooking his head over your shoulder to look into the oven as well, just wordlessly holding you close. “I’m not mad,” you eventually said, letting the tension seep from your muscles and melting into his hold. Smiling you let your weight sag against him, knowing he would have the strength to hold you up. “Sleepy?” You just hummed nonchalantly even though you weren’t particularly tired but somehow your body felt exhausted. “The drive took longer than expected,” Yangyang agreed, “Let’s just eat and then try to get the fire going. I brought my laptop and downloaded all the episodes of our next season.” “You’re an angel,” you giggled, “I didn’t even think about that.” “I’m not,” he mumbled, hiding his face in your neck. “My angel,” you laughed, squirming in his grip to turn around and pinch his sensitive sides. What you hadn’t expected was him not backing off, so you found yourself pinned between his body and the oven, your faces dangerously close together. For a second or two you just stayed like that before Yangyang’s brain seemed to realize just how close you were, causing heat to rise to his cheeks and him nervously spluttering about how he’d set the table and unpack everything. Something was definitely off between you two but you chose to put it aside for now, not quiet daring to think about it.

Once you both had two steaming plates of pizza in front of you, everything seemed to be back to normal and conversation flew easily just how it always did between the two of you. You would complain about being swarmed with essays and Yangyang would complain about his two roommates who couldn’t be more different from each other which made for a lot of potential for arguments or about how his mother would continuously call him every week to bog him about how school was going, if he was taking his vitamins, if he was still practicing playing his violin, if he had found a girlfriend yet or if he had finally given up on his stupid dancing classes. You were always quick to tell him that he should not feel pressured to drop his dancing to take violin lessons again if he wasn’t passionate about it anymore, no matter how much his mom would nag him about it. You knew that he loved dancing way too much and had made so many good friends in his dance crew to just give it up. So just like every time you gently took his hand in yours to squeeze it reassuringly when you promised him he could live with you if his mother decided to disown him over this. But this time he didn’t let your hand go once he moved on to tell a story on how his roommates had started arguing in the middle of the night because one of them had started to eat snacks which had woken the other one up, this thumb mindlessly caressing the back of your hand.

“Do you really trust me with the fire?” Yangyang asked with a frown on his face as he read through the instructions that were hung up next to the fireplace. “I don’t,” you laughed from where you were washing the dishes in the kitchen, “But if they leave it for us to light, it can’t be too dangerous or difficult.” “I appreciate this incredible amount of confidence you have in me,” your best friend snorted before getting to work to pile up wood and paper and carefully lighting the latter. “I made fire!” He exclaimed excitedly, a bright grin on his lips which immediately made you smile as well. “Now just don’t let it go out,” you smiled, “I’ll go change into comfy clothes real quick.” Yangyang just hummed, carefully adding more wood to his fire so it wouldn’t go out again.

“Yo, I think I got the hang of it,” he announced once you came back to the warmed up living room with snacks and clad in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. “Is that my hoodie?” Yanyang asked when you sat down the bags next to his laptop where he had already pulled up the first episode. “Not a chance,” you replied and plopped down onto the couch to snuggle into the hoodie you definitely hadn’t stolen from your best friend. “It seems oddly familiar though,” he mused but sat down next to you anyways, your thighs touching because the sofa wasn’t particularly big. “I’ve had it for a while,” you grinned innocently, throwing one of the blankets over your legs to keep them warm. “Sure,” Yangyang laughed and threw up the large hood before pressing play on the first episode.

Throughout the episodes you seemed to gravitate towards Yangyang more and more the later it got: First only leaning your head on his shoulder, then he wrapped an arm around you to pull you even closer, followed by you pulling your legs up on the sofa, leaning even further into him until you were basically lying on his chest until it became too uncomfortable and you two shuffled around until he had both of his legs outstretched on the sofa with you sat in between them: your back pressed against his chest and his arms around you. “I could fall asleep like this,” you mumbled when you felt your lids getting heavy, the soft melody of the outro lulling you in. “Don’t though, we’ll be sore tomorrow,” Yangyang laughed, poking your cheek. “Is this your only concern?” “We’ve cuddled like this before,” he just shrugged it off. You just hummed and cuddled closer to his heartbeat, fully closing your eyes. “Yah. Don’t fall asleep on me like that,” your best friend protested, “There is a perfectly fine bed waiting with plenty of space.” “Not my problem your body is like 80 percent stupidly lanky legs.” “Come on, get up.” “But the bed is going to be all cold and it’s nice and warm in here,” you argued. “It’s not going to warm up if you keep clinging to me like that,” Yangyang giggled. “I’m not clinging,” you pouted. “Pretty sure you are,” he laughed, finger flicking your forehead, “Come on, lazy. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Grumbling, you agreed and followed your best friend into the small bathroom with the blanket still wrapped around your body where you two quickly washed up. You had been right, the air in the bedroom was icy to say the least. “We’re going to freeze to death and no one will ever find us, Yangyang,” you groaned dramatically. “They literally have to clean up before the next guests come here, so our corpses would be here for a week tops.” “You’re so good at this reassuring thing,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help to smile. “I know,” he grinned, “Turn around.” “What for?” “I’m changing,” he simply stated, already unbuckling his belt. “Oooh.” With burning cheeks, you quickly turned around, clutching the blanket tightly in your hands. In quick succession you heard first his belt and then his pants and shirt hit the floor before he rummaged through his bag and stepped into new clothes. “Done,” he announced and immediately jumped onto the bed to shuffle beneath the layers of blankets. Still feeling shy you carefully dropped the blanket from the living room and crawled into bed as well, leaving a respectable distance to your best friend which was fairly easy with how big the bed was.

“If you’re going to hog all the blankets, I will scream,” Yangyang spoke into the sudden silence that had draped over you. “I bet you’re the blanket hogger,” you snorted and playfully tugged at the blankets to roll them tightly around you. “I swear to god,” your best friend groaned, his feet kicking the mattress in frustration, “I won one tickle fight and I will win again.” Giggling, you let go of your grip so Yangyang could easily pull the blankets back. “Good night, Yangyang,” you whispered. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered back and you could hear him twist and turn for a couple of moments before he found a comfortable spot to sleep in. Smiling you also settled in, pulling the blankets tight around you to not let the cold of the room seep into your cocoon. While thinking of what you would do tomorrow, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning the unforgiving light of the sun reflected by the snow outside tickled your nose to slowly wake you up from your dreamless sleep but you really weren’t ready to let go of the comfort that a good night’s sleep had given you. It was just too cozy beneath the layers of blankets, the warmth of another person seeping into your bones while outside the cocoon it was cold. Wait. Warmth of another person? That had you wake up way faster than you would have liked, your own body going rigid in the hold Yangyang had on you. “Finally woke up?” He asked, his voice deeper than usual and raspy from sleep. “Y... Yeah,” you hummed, scared to turn around to look at your best friend. “Why are we cuddling?” “Because someone wouldn’t stop hogging all the blankets, leaving me out in the cold to sleep,” Yangyang said matter-of-factly, his breath hitting your neck. Looking around you, you couldn’t help but chuckle, you really had balled up so much of the blanket on your side of the bed in your sleep that part of it had dropped to the floor on your side. “You laugh but I was freezing my ass off half the night,” your best friend nagged. “I’ll make it up to you with breakfast?” “Omelets?” “You’re going to help cutting veggies?” “Nope,” Yangyang said, popping the p-sound out loud. “You’re terrible.” “You left me to freeze!” “Fine,” you groaned and wiggled yourself free from his grip, leaving the warmth of his embrace and the blankets, “But you’re doing the dishes after.” “Sure.”

For the first time today, you turned around to look at Yangyang and you really weren’t prepared for his tousled hair and lazy smile. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest before it made a couple of summersaults. “Morning,” he grinned, burying himself back into the blankets. “Yeah... Good morning...” “Take your time, I’ll shower in a bit,” Yangyang yawned and you couldn’t hold back your own which in turn made him laugh. “Don’t take too long, lazy,” you smiled before quickly freshening up in the bathroom and starting to prepare the breakfast you hast promised.

Somewhere between filling two pans with the eggs and adding the cut up vegetables, your best friend joined you in the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower and your heart yet again did acrobatics in your chest. What was wrong with you? This was just Yangyang. Your best friend. You had slept in the same room countless of times. You had made him breakfast even more times because he was not to be trusted in the kitchen. So why was your heart all jumpy around him now? Had Donghyuck been right? But nothing between Yangyang and you had changed. You always cuddled up together when you binge watched shows together or had movie nights with your other friends.

“What’s up with you today?” Yangyang asked once you had slid the omelets on two plates and put down a steaming mug of coffee for each of you. “Nothing,” you quickly tried to reassure him but the way he raised up one of his brows was sign enough that he didn’t believe you. “It’s really nothing,” you tried again, forcing a smile onto your face that really wasn’t all that hard to maintain when looking at Yangyang, “I was just thinking about where we should go for our walk.” Your friend just hummed around a mouthful of eggs and pulled out his phone. “I looked something up,” he slurred before swallowing down what he had been chewing, “If we follow this trail, it will take us around the lake which should be frozen and eventually to a little town. If the ice is solid enough, there’s a shop where we can rent skates. And if it’s not we can just stroll around town. To go back, we can take the shorter way back along the road we came with the car.” “I like that,” you admitted as you scrolled through the website Yangyang had pulled up on his phone. The prices weren’t so bad and the scenery looked breathtaking. “Let’s do that,” you concluded, giving your best fried a bright smile.

Even bundled up in your thickest jacket and with a big scarf wrapped around your throat, the cold air outside of the cabin was unforgiving. But somehow you really liked how clean the air was as it prickled through your lungs before you exhaled again, your breath coming out in a little white huff. “I didn’t think it would be so cold, wow,” Yangyang mused as he locked the cabin before walking over to you. “I like it,” you smiled, “Which way?” But instead of an answer all you got from your best friend was a snowball thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest as you turned around to him. “Oh you’re so on,” you grinned, immediately ducking down to scoop some snow up yourself to fire right back. Your loud giggles and shouts filled the otherwise quite air of the forest and you didn’t even feel the cold of the snow and the air seeping into your bones and clothes, all you focused on was to get Yangyang back for knocking your hat off of your head when the face definitely should be off limits. “You little shit,” you yelled, running over to him to dunk his face into the big pile of snow that had gathered in front of the cabin when suddenly you stepped onto a plate of ice, making you lose your footing and the world quickly turned sideways.

You heard Yangyang yell your name before his worried face came back into your field of vision. “Shit, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine,” you crooked out. The fall really had knocked all air out of your lungs and who were you kidding, you would probably get a nasty bruise on your leg from where you had fallen on the unforgiving ice. “Hey, careful,” Yangyang said, taking your hands in his to pull you back to your feet. “Fuck,” you cursed when you put weight on your left leg, pain shooting up all the way up to your back, “I don’t think I can stand.” “Shit, left foot?” You simply nodded and gritted your teeth together as he tried to help you up again, immediately stabilizing you, so you didn’t have to put weight on your injured leg. “I’m sorry,” you muttered as he helped you to waddle back over to the cabin. Great. Now you had not only ruined your day but maybe even your whole short holidays. Yangyang for sure hadn’t wanted to be stuck inside this cabin with you for two more days. “Don’t be. Let’s take a look at that, might be broken or something,” your best friend reassured you.

With awkward little hops, he guided you over to the little sofa in the living room where you had been cuddling all evening yesterday. “Let me take a look.” After shedding your jackets and other gear you had worn to shield yourselves from the cold, Yangyang carefully unlaced your boots with nimble fingers, apologizing every time you winced in pain. “Well fuck. This thing is so swollen,” he announced once boot and sock were off of your foot. “How bad?” You asked with your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to take a look at it. “Hold still,” he instructed you, gently touching the swollen ankle to rotate it carefully which tore a whimper from your lips. “I don’t think it’s broken,” Yangyang eventually announced, “Ten has sprained his ankle during practice before and it looked similar, so I don’t think we need to get you to a hospital right now.” Thank god that your best friend was taking those dancing classes. “On a scale from when you burned your hand while trying to cook ramyeon in milk to whatever your roommate once left in that pot for too long, how gross does it look?” “It’s really not that bad yet,” Yangyang giggled before he let out a fake gag, “Please do not remind me of that pot, it’s a wonder that whatever that was had not grown legs and left the pot on its own accord.”

“Hold my hand,” you demanded, making grabby hands at your best friend where he was sat in front of you on the floor. “You big baby, it’s really not that bad. It’s not even bruised yet,” he laughed but took your hand in his anyways, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Finally opening your eyes, you took in the picture: You ankle was definitely fucked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that it had already swollen to at least three times of its usual size and pulsating with the blood that was rushing to the surface. “Disgusting.” “If we cool it enough and keep it still, everything should be fine,” Yangyang reassured you, giving your hand another squeeze and rubbing your leg with his other hand, “You’re all tensed up. Does anything else hurt?” “My whole leg?” You slowly said but it came out more as a question than anything else. “Let me see.” “What do you mean let me see?” You all but screeched, pulling back your hand to clutch them at your chest instead where your heart was beating in quick succession. “Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen you in a bathing suit or anything. I just want to make sure it’s just the ankle,” he calmed you down. Why was your heart beating so fast anyways? Yangyang was right. You had seen each other in different states of undress over all the years you had already been friends. But for some reason everything felt different in this secluded little cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was like you were seeing Yangyang in a completely different light. He was not just the funny guy who only cared about hanging out with his friends and having fun; he suddenly seemed a lot more mature here. Weird. The clean air must have already gotten to your head.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Yangyang spoke again, kneading soothing circles into your still very much tensed calf muscles. “Okay,” you whispered, slowly unbuttoning you jeans, thanking whoever was listening that you had packed and worn nice panties. With combined effort, you wrestled the damp fabric of your jeans from your legs to reveal that your whole left side had already started to bruise up, dark colors bleeding into your skin. “Oh fuck,” you cursed, throwing your head back, “That looks so bad.” You couldn’t help but giggle. “I look like I have been fucking mauled.” “Or like you have a very unhealthy skin condition,” your best friend joined your laughter. But what you couldn’t see was how his eyes darted over the exposed skin, not knowing where he should look first. “I’ll check your knee,” he mumbled once you both had stopped laughing, gently touching your skin. You couldn’t help but hiss when his fingers met your flesh even though he was being gentle. It felt like his fingers left little flames in their wake, leaving your skin tingling. You saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat before he spoke: “Your knee seems fine, but those bruises will turn nasty in an hour or two.” “G-great,” you stuttered, avoiding Yangyang’s eyes while looking down to where his hand was still resting on your knee. “I think I still have some ointment from dance class in my bag that could help,” he mumbled, “I could get that and massage the muscles for a bit in case you pulled something as well.” “Massage,” you repeated, starstruck. “Not if you don’t want to but it might get worse if you’ve pulled a muscle or something if it keeps being this tense.”   “I- Yeah. Ok,” you stuttered. “Don’t move.” “Funny,” you grumbled as Yangyang went to fetch his ointment from the bedroom.

“It’s going to be cold,” he warned you when he sat back down in front of you again, lathering up his hands with the strong smelling ointment before he gently pressed down on the muscles of your calf, his fingers working on the knots in your muscle before slowly making their way upwards. You had to bite your lip in order to keep any noise from slipping once his fingers had reached the skin just above your knee. “You’re really tense,” Yangyang mumbled after a while, his fingers itching almost dangerously high on your thigh by now, kneading your sensitive flesh. “Yeah, you’re just. I’m- yeah,” you really didn’t know where you were going with this answer, hyper aware of his fingers on your skin. “Should I stop?” “No, it feels good. It’s just...” “Weird?” “A little,” you admitted, making both of you chuckle awkwardly. “Maybe a little heat would be good as well.” “Y... Yeah.” You really weren’t sure if even less clothes between Yangyang and you would help with whatever this atmosphere between you two was right now. “Let’s get you up and going then,” your best friend smiled and if it was a little less vibrant than it usually was, you chose to ignore it.

Once you were submerged in the warm water, a blissful sound slipped past your lips and you felt all tension that was left in your body leave you, the jets and the warm water effectively relaxing your body and mind.   “You good?” Yangyang quietly asked as he submerged himself right next to you, gently pulling your injured leg onto hip lap to prod at the muscles again. “Yeah,” you sighed and closed your eyes, willing your mind to shut up about how he was just your best friend and it should definitively not feel this good when he was innocently kneading your muscles. As all the tenseness seeped from your body, his fingers got more and more gentle until they all but caressed the soft skin of your thigh.  

“Yangyang?” You quietly asked after a while when the only sounds between you came from the bubbling of the water and the occasional sound of a bird. Your best friend just hummed to indicate that he had heard you, his fingers stopping to draw random shapes onto your thigh. “Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” At that your friend seemed to freeze, his thigh muscles tensing up where your leg was thrown onto his lap. “N... No, I don’t think so,” he eventually mumbled. “No?” “No. Because I kind of really want to kiss you as well,” he confessed, his dark eyes finding yours and the amount of trust and openness in his eyes momentarily took your breath away. “Then kiss me,” you breathed. “I- I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he replied but inched closer to you anyways. “It won’t,” you promised, gently cupping your best friend’s jaw and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone. “Promise?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Promise,” you whispered back before you let your eyes flutter closed when your lips finally met in a delicate kiss, barely more than a gently press of lips.

When you separated again, you sighed gently against his lips before pressing another quick peck to them which made your best friend chuckle. “This feels nice,” he whispered. “Not weird?” You asked just to confirm, gently tracing his features with your fingers. “It feels just right.” “Yeah,” you sighed. “More?” Smiling you nodded and connected your lips again, firmer this time but still gently exploring this new territory. Slowly Yangyang seemed to grow more confident and he let his hands settle on your waist to pull you a little closer to him, causing you to softly gasp. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, pressing little kisses to your cheeks and the corners of your mouth until you giggled. “Kiss me,” you demanded, wrapping your arms around his neck so your hands could play with the long strands of his hair before kissing him again. By now you almost sat in his lap, the angle a little weird because of how your leg was still thrown over his lap. But none of you seemed to mind as you took all the time of the world to explore each other’s lips.

After a little while Yangyang broke the kiss to lean his forehead against yours. You couldn’t fight your smile, basking in the feeling of being close to him. This close you could count his eyelashes that were stuck together from the water and admire the blush that sat high on his cheekbones. “I really like you,” Yangyang suddenly confessed, pulling your bodies flush together to hide his face in your neck. “I really like you too,” you giggled, running your hands through his damp hair. “No I mean I like like you. I- I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time,” he mumbled against your skin. With how close you were pushed together, Yangyang must definitely feel how hard and fast your heart was hammering in your chest. What he couldn’t see was the big smile that spread on your lips while you were trying to find the right words to tell him that you felt the same, that he was a very special person to you. “You don’t have to like me back,” he suddenly said, tightening his grip on you, “I know you probably only see me as a friend and nothing else. But if I keep this to myself any longer, I might burst. I just- Please don’t hate me. You’re all I have.”

“Yangyang,” you gently spoke, trying to pry his head from your neck. “I don’t have any courage left to look you in the face as you reject me,” he whined when he wasn’t budging, this grip he had on your waist tightening just a little. “I’m not going to reject you.” “You’re not?” Your best friend immediately straightened up, his face full of surprise. “No,” you chuckled and couldn’t resist to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I think I’m in love with you as well.”

For a while Yangyang didn’t say anything, his mouth just wordlessly hanging open and eyes wide. “I mean it,” you giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder, “Say something, idiot.” “I- I was full on prepared for heartbreak. I didn’t mean to confess until Sunday to not make it awkward. It just. Yeah…” “Why would I reject you?” “You never said anything and whenever I would try to take you out or do something alone with you, you kept inviting the others and simply played my flirting off as a joke.”

Thinking back, you felt like there were scales falling from your eyes when you remembered all the times Yangyang had asked you out to the movies and you had dragged Donghyuck or Renjun with you. Or when you had invited him for movie night and his face fell when he saw Jaemin and Jeno already sitting on your sofa. Or when he had invited you to one of his dance shows and you had marveled about how graceful Ten could dance and he had become all grumpy.

“Holy fuck, I’ve been so oblivious,” you groaned, pillowing your head on his chest that shook with laughter. “I’ll forgive you if you become my girlfriend,” Yangyang gently spoke, combing his hands through your hair. “Yes,” you breathed, your heart fluttering wildly. “Seal it with a kiss?” He didn’t need to say anything else because you quickly pressed your lips together again, hoping Yangyang could feel all your love and you could at least make up for the pain you had caused him.

“Me too,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses, “I love you too, idiot.” “Your idiot,” you grinned. “All mine,” Yangyang smiled brightly. And if you two shared more kisses and sweet giggles beneath the sky in the hot tub next to your cabin, only Mother Nature would know about it.

[ragingbookdragon]

Panthera Felidae et Celeritas

Barry Allen x Meta!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Gonna make a second part...sometime...later...Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The meta-human was fast. And while he wasn’t as fast as Barry, he’d managed to snap the speedster’s femur with a well-placed kick. Barry went down, holding his leg whilst he grit his teeth and shoved his bone back into place so it’d heal; Hal landed beside him, ready to pick up the slack and protect his best friend.

Striding towards them, the meta had a sick grin on his face as he ribbed, “I’m going to use your spine as a toothpick, Lantern.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Hal shot back, baring his teeth as he raised his arm, ready to form a construct when a hulking figure of orange, black, and white fur darted from around the corner of a building, sprinting right up to the meta.

It reared onto its hind legs, one big front paw swiping down harshly at the meta, connecting to the middle of its back, and both Hal and Barry watched the man’s eyes widen in first a look of shock, the next of pain as a sickening crack sent the meta to the ground, upper body spazzing as their lower body stilled.

“I can’t feel my back!” he screamed in agony and the beast bent down, its face next to the man’s and opened its mouth, snarling fiercely, flashing long, razor sharp canines. The meta whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and the beast took one last look at him before turning its golden eyes onto Barry and Hal.

They stared back with equal mixtures of fear, but the beast chuffed and turned tail, bounding away as quickly as it had come.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hal asked.

Barry shook his head, blue eyes wide as he said, “I have no idea…but I think there’s a tiger loose in Central City.”

***

There were big cat sightings all over Central City—cheetahs, cougars, jaguars, leopards, snow leopards, ligers, lions, tigers; someone even said they saw a saber tooth tiger, which Barry highly doubted, but sure enough when he’d gotten to the scene and tested the DNA, it linked to a few scientific discoveries and genomes closely relating to the extinct beast.

He’d half a mind to bring the League in on the discoveries, but the animals weren’t killing people, and he was still reeling on how to explain to his team that there were animals running around that weren’t even native to the US, nor having populations in the state. Oddly enough though, the animals were never seen in the same place at the same time. Each sighting was on a different night with a different big cat, telling Barry that this had to be some type of trainer releasing the cats on particular times.

He spent almost an hour, well a human hour, not a speedster hour, triangulating territory across Central City before he finally found a common location inside the sightings—an old amusement park that had been shut down a few years before, waiting on renovations when someone would finally buy it.

So, what did Barry do? What Barry did best—he went alone to see which kitty cat he could find first.

***

The entire park was eerie, dark and creaking, rusted metal and cracked plastic everywhere. It almost made him think of those post-apocalyptic video games. Still though, he quelled his fears, though they boiled in his stomach, and hopped over the barriers, quietly walking the silent park.

Every noise had the hair on the back of his neck rising, turning in circles to look behind him at whatever it was, and at one point, he briefly considered calling for Superman—nothing gave you nerves of steel like the Man of Steel.

Shaking his head, he reaffirmed his own abilities. He could do this. He was fast enough to escape danger, he just had to sense it coming.

The sound of nails on metal echoed in Barry’s ears and he shivered, peeking around the corner of an abandoned booth to see a sleek black jaguar scratching at a metal door until it shoved open, and it slipped inside.

His brows furrowed and he looked around before quickly following it, slipping inside the doorway. It led down a further hall and into a tunnel, and with the large metal pistons and wheels in the walls, he assumed it was the underneath of an out of order roller coaster.

Glancing down, he saw paw prints in the dusty ground that obviously hadn’t been disturbed in a couple decades. Barry frowned and continued down the hallway, coming around a corner.

The second he turned it, he ran smack dab into something, and he gasped, immediately shoving out. Whatever had run into him went to the ground with a pained grunt and he blinked in the darkness, looking down, surprise bleeding through him as a woman’s face cleared in the darkness.

Barry had so many thoughts running through his head, but their safety overrode it and he bent down, hauling her up as he whispered harshly, “Never mind what you’re doing here, we have to leave now.”

“What?” she hissed back, letting him tug her down the hallway. “Who are you!”

“My name is Barry. I work at CCPD.” He glanced back at her, well, over her shoulder. “There’s a big cat somewhere down here and we need to get away. If my calculations are right, there are more around.”

“Wait, you know?” she questioned, feet skidding to a halt and Barry looked back at her.

“What do you mean? That the big cats are hiding around here?” she nodded, and he tipped his head. “Yeah. I figured it out with the police scans and public sightings.”

Her jaw started to go slack, and he tugged her again. “C’mon, we have to get out of here before that panther comes back.”

“It’s a jaguar.”

He stopped. “What?”

She pulled her wrist out of his grip. “It’s a black jaguar not a panther.”

Barry cocked a brow. “How do you know?”

“I…” she seemed hesitant, diverting her gaze. “I can’t tell you right now.” She hurried past him. “But you don’t have to worry. There are no cats here.”

“But my calculations—”

“Are wrong, Blake. There are no cats here.”

“It’s Barry,” he retorted. “Barry.”

“Whatever your name is,” she scowled, pushing the door open so they could both get out.

As they did, he pulled out his phone and shone the flashlight upwards so he could see her features. “Who are you?”

She blinked. “It’s not important.”

“It is. If you know about the big cats roaming the city and hurting people, then I need to know.”

Her face pinched. “They’re not hurting people. They’re helping.”

Barry recalled the meta-human incident—the meta’s spine had been broken in one swipe of that tiger’s paw. “Breaking spines and other important body parts isn’t helping people.”

“It’s not like I’m eating the criminals!” she shouted, then slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and Barry gaped at her.

“What did you just say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything!”

“No, you said something alright. It sounded like you said you weren’t eating the criminals.” He leaned closer. “Who are you and what do you know about the cats?”

For a moment, she merely gazed at him, then she let out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as she resigned herself. “Alright…I’ll talk.” She exhaled. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I’m a part-timer at the STAR Labs research facility. A few months ago…I was helping one of the scientists identify a common DNA strand found in the Panthera family and how it would react if spliced together in a new animal when—”

She trailed off, unsure of herself and Barry encouraged, “When?”

(Y/N) sighed again. “I don’t know. There was a mistake with the experiment. Some kind of electromagnetic shock that caused an entire building outage.”

“What else?” he questioned, and she shrugged.

“When we went inside after the power was back on, the test subject was deceased. Doctor Lesia asked me to clean up and I did, but I must’ve gotten contaminated somehow. Maybe through an open wound? I don’t know.”

She inhaled, meeting Barry’s blue eyes. “The DNA sequencing experiment didn’t fail though.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked curiously and she looked towards the door.

“Give me a moment.” As she walked back inside, she quickly stuck her head out and said, “Don’t be alarmed and don’t run, okay?”

He was wary of that and after a few moments, he heard scratching at the door and the door handle bent down, then the door pulled open, and the black jaguar bounded out.

Barry was quick to step back with a sharp, “Shit!” but the cat didn’t do anything, it merely sat down and looked at him; he took a closer look, eyes widening and he breathed, “Oh my God…it resequenced your DNA.”

She nodded, making a low growling noise, then disappeared back inside, only to reappear herself once more. “I’ve been able to transform into any cat whose DNA sequence belongs to the Panthera family.” (Y/N) shook her head. “I have to transform at least once a day, or it’ll happen without my control, and I can’t risk it happening at my job or out in public. So, I come here and transform, then run around Central City.”

“And fight crime,” he surmised, and she tipped her head side to side.

“It didn’t start out like that, honest. I realized I had all this energy pent up and running and scouring seemed to get it out.” (Y/N) blinked. “The first time I ever fought ‘crime’ was when I stopped a meta human from attacking Flash and Green Lantern.”

Barry stared at her. “You broke the meta-human’s spine.”

She winced. “I…didn’t realize I’d hit him with that much strength…but it was that or risk him hurting another hero and I didn’t want that to happen.” (Y/N) looked at him. “Please…please don’t tell anybody you know this. I’ll stop, just please don’t tell anyone. If you do, who knows what government science squad will come after me and kidnap me.”

Her face was the picture of pure terror and she reached out, grabbing Barry’s jacket, tears welling in her eyes as she begged again, “Please Barry, don’t tell anyone.”

Barry took her hands, squeezing them gently. “I won’t. I promise.”

She blinked tearfully and asked, “You won’t?”

“No, I won’t tell.” He smiled at her and fiddled with the ring on his hand, showing her the lightning symbol on it. “Not after I owe you for saving me and Green Lantern.”

(Y/N) eyes widened, and she gaped at the ring, then at his face. “You—you’re him…the Flash.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Barry sighed, looking around, seeing the moon high in the sky. “Look, it’s late right now. Why don’t we both go home for the night and meet up sometime later?”

“To do what?” she questioned, and he met her eyes.

“Well, I doubt we’ll be able to undo the resequencing of your DNA. There’s no telling how damaging it could be to you if we try.” He thought for a moment, then decided, “So how about this, we meet up, and we’ll see about training you.”

(Y/N)’s face pinched. “But I’m not a speedster?”

“True, but technically you’re like me. You’re a meta-human now.” Barry smiled, wide and toothy. “And if there’s one thing I know how to do—it’s help meta-humans control their powers.”

She searched his gaze for a few moments, then she nodded. “Alright…that seems like a fair plan.” (Y/N) held out her hand and Barry took it, shaking it firmly. “Glad to be apart of the team, Flash.”

“Glad to have you, er…” his brows furrowed. “Do you have a name yet?”

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought, then her face lit up and she replied, “Panthera.” Barry snorted and she flushed. “I know…I’m a nerd.”

He shook his head. “So am I.”

[weeb-writor]

MHA boys react to your Pro Hero father finding out you’re dating them

Heyo! So today I just have something cute and crack-y! I’ve been reading wayyy to much angst as of late! Reader is neutral and I am running out of things to write so send me some requests I do have a few rules but I pretty much write everything! I hope you all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amajiki Tamaki x Reader  Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Your Pro Hero dad finds out your dating (All might and Fat Gum)

Words: 1928

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

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

So you are not sure how to explain this situation, really. Of course you knew about your fathers no dating rules and you were, are a great kid who follow his rules. However, the first time you laid eyes on him you were taken. Then when you saw him fight and the way he spoke their was no hope for you. You had fallen head over heels in love with him. So when he asked you out the words ‘no’ and ‘I can't’ were no longer in your vocabulary. So here you were on a date with Bakugou. You two were at all mall just walking around, shopping when you wanted but mainly just enjoying your time together.

“Would you stop looking like that! Just tell me what the hell it is!” Bakugou yelled at you, you blinked at him not really realizing you were staring.

“I… the claw game for the big game has a rabbit in it.” You said with your head down. Bakugou only sighed and drug you over to the game.

“Now I’ll get you the bunny on one condition,... come meet my parents next weekend.” He mumbled completely red.

“You’ve got a deal.” You said with a smile.

“AND I wanna meet yours.” He added starting to play the game you stilled visibly at his words.

“Uh i'm sure you don't, it might be another situation like you had at dinner with the Todoroki’s!” You rushed out to him. He didn't respond but moved the claw toward the ugliest stuffed animal you had ever seen.

“OMG you're such a dramatic man, fine fine.” You huffed at him, he chuckled evilly and a moment later you were holding the huge bunny. 

“What would you do without me, huh? I'm perfect for you, y’know. No one else could have done that for you the first try, like I did.” He said as you guys started your walk up again.

“Huh, well personally I think Izuku probably could. You know he has all those limited addition all might figures and plushies, a lot of them come from claw games.” You said nonchalantly knowing it would piss off Bakugou. He stopped talking and grabbed your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“Your so full of shit, your trying to get a rise out of me but you wont.” He said with an eyebrow raise.

“Is that why you’re twitching?” You asked as you pulled forward some more, your lips almost touching. Before you guys could tease each other any further a voice interrupted you.

“Bakugou?” You both froze as All might’s voice echoed in your ears. You jumped away from Bakugou as he gave you a confused look.

“Yeah?” He said, still glancing at you, not sure what to make of your strange behavior.

“What are you two doing here and what are you doing so close together?” He asked with a smile, you could tell it was fake.

“Oh were on a-” he tried to get out but you cut him off.

“A snack run! Us and the rest of the class are doing a movie night.” You said shakily.

“I didn't know a snack run required such closeness.” He said with an eyebrow raise.

“It doesn't.” Aizawa said. You didn't even notice he was there and now you were screwed. Aizawa had agreed to keep you and Bakugou’s relationship a secret in exchange for coffee every Monday and Wednesday but last Wednesday you forgot. The grin on his face says he is getting even. 

“What? were not doing that! I'm not watching a movie with those extras on our date night.” Bakugou pouted at you, your mouth hung open at him. Now did you tell Bakugou All might was your father and he forbid you to date, no, no you didn't; but he is one of the smartest people you know. He is in the top 5 of your class in smarts for god sakes, he should have known you were trying to keep this on the downlow.

“YOUR WHAT!” your father said in his boisterous voice.

“Uhh, well you see um he is… What are you two doing here, huh?” You said trying to change the subject. Aizawa started to chuckle next to your father.

“Y/N I said no boys, no girls, no theys!!! Bakugou is clearly a boy!!” He said, starting to pace around. “Hold on, Aizawa, did you know about this?” He asked, turning toward the teacher who immediately stopped laughing.

“I learned about it very recently and I told them to tell you or I would. Very childish and unheroic.” He said, trying not to bust out laughing.

“Bakugou we should run..” You whispered to him as your father paced around.

“Why didn't you tell me your dad was All might and that we are a secret!!” He whispered yelled to you.

“We can talk about this later but right now babe, we gotta run before he calls Gran Torino.” You said inching away from the scene in front of you. Bakugou did the same as but your world stopped when your eyes met Aizawa’s. He shook his head but mouthed “Coffee Monday” then shut his eyes. With that you and Bakugou were off, ignoring your father who was calling for you.

“Dumbass you know they are going to the same place we are, right?” He said laughing.

“I know but i would rather be shunned in my room than in the public, gotta keep our image up.” You said giving him a thumbs up. You both laughed all the way to the dorms and were still in high spirits when your father came and found you guys lounging in the commons.

 AMAJIKI TAMAKI

Now you and Tamaki relationship is… strange to most people. You were not like Mirio or Nejire, you were more like Tamaki but just not as anxious. No one even knew how you two got together after years of pining but both being too shy to ask each other out. It did happen nonetheless and it was oddly perfect. You both loved to stay in and eat takeout, you would take turns calling the takeout spot, or sometimes even play rock, paper, scissors to decide. Festivals were also a love you guys shared, of course you went early before fireworks when it wasn't too busy. But this, this was by far your favorite. The beach in the middle of the night, you and Tamaki would sometimes sneak out when you both needed a breather in the dead of the night when there was nothing but the two of you, the waves, and the stars.

“Did you bring it?” You asked Tamaki as you walked along the shore.

“Of course I did, do you wanna do it?” He asked fidgeting a little.

“Mhhmm.” You hummed taking the stick from him. You and him found it on your first beach date, it was a stick that Tamaki sterilized, afraid it would give you some sort of disease. You thought for a second before writing in the sand.

“Laugh in the silence, dance in rain, and sing with the birds. There will come a day when all things will change and you’ll be left with only the memories of yesterday, so enjoy them. Sincerely the silent.” He said reading what you wrote in the sand. 

“I made it far from the tide so someone will actually see it this time.” You said as you drew heart and butterflies around it.

“Where'd you get it from?” He said as he sat laid down on the sand to watch the stars. You laid down placing your head on his chest.

“My dad, he and I are very different and he learned very early on that when he taught me his ‘life lessons’ in loud ways I didn't get it and that I was pretty timid so I wouldn't learn them through experience. My class was going on a 3 week end of the year vacation to the U.S and I decided I didn't wanna go, I'd never been, my dad couldn't come, I listed every reason why I couldn't and at some point I was just making up random excuses when really I did wanna go. So my dad made me climb this mountain and carried me when I complained it was too much. When we finally got to the top I was so angry that there was just a bunch of snow but then he made me look to my left and there were dozens of flowers peeking through the snow. It was amazing. Then he told me that saying and I was never the same. I went on the trip for a week instead of 3 weeks and I loved it. If I can help someone like us step out of their comfort zone just a little so they can see beautiful flowers and enjoy all that they can, I'll be happy.” You said as your eyes fluttered shut a little.

“We can do it together, step out of our comfort zones, I mean.” He mumbled to you. You hummed at him in agreement.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I’LL SHOOT!” A loud voice called out to you, you and Tamaki immediately stood up and put your hands up.

“Okay now dance! I'm thinking the Macarena..” The guy trailed off. Tamaki mumbled to himself and turned around putting his hands down, you were about to yell at him but he turned and smiled at you then began to speak.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Fat Gum.” Tamaki said with a sigh. You froze at this and thought about disappearing into the water but it was a cold night you would die. Maybe if you didn't turn around he wouldn't know it was you.

“Well when I got a call saying my kid snuck out the first few times I was cool about it, they never do anything wrong so y’know its good to be a little wild BUT WHEN I HEARD THEY WERE WITH A BOY I CAME TO FIND THEM!! But seeing it’s you i'm a little less worried but when I said find some new people to hang with and expand your horizons I definitely didn't mean my kid who I forbade to date, mind you!” You dad said, grabbing Tamaki by the shoulders and shaking him a little. Your boyfriend looked between the two of you and then began to mutter incoherent things.

“Dad stop you gonna give him a heart attack.” You said trying to get your boyfriend back from your overprotective dad.

“Nahh that would be too kind and too quick.” And with that your boyfriend fainted, your dad laughed and threw him over his shoulders. 

“You didn't have to do that.” You said as you both began the walk home.

“What kind of father would I be if I didn't instill fear into the hearts of those who could break your heart beyond repair.” He smiled at you

“You scare him everyday when he works with you!! I’ve heard all the stories from Tamaki, you put him into uncomfortable situations sometimes.” You huffed at him

“Sure but never more than he can handle. ‘Laugh in the silence, dance in rain, and sing with the birds. There will come a day when all things will change and you’ll be left with only the memories of yesterday, so enjoy them.’ He always learns something new or at least gets a kick out of it.” He said as he put his fist out for you to bump. You bump it and smile at him.

“You are still in trouble though.” He said with a laugh, you sighed at his words. Maybe you should have taken your chance in the freezing water.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

[atc74]

Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: Poor body image (?), slight angst, a little envy, a lot of fluff, and implied sexy times

Summary: Jensen is feeling less confident in himself lately and you think you know why. He has always been there for you, now you just need to show your husband he has no reason to be. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1470

Written for: @breakthezone​ first quarter challenge, which was to choose one of two prompts. Mine is bolded below. 

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​, cause she is the best

A/N: So you know the pictures, the spread, the article in THAT magazine, featuring that beautiful soul, and that would cause any man to think less of himself, but I thought, what would go through Jensen’s head and how would I help him through it. 

Like Jensen’s Warmth? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

The cold snowy mountains were a stark contrast to the warm flatland of their home state, but Y/N was loving the quietness and solace of the northeast. Y/N pulled into the snow-covered driveway and started unloading the groceries. She planned accordingly and for weeks at a time; they didn’t have many delivery options out there. 

“Honey, I’m home! What do you say you come help me carry in and put away all this food and I make you a nice, juicy porterhouse for dinner?” Y/N called from the kitchen as she dropped the load on the counter. “Honey? Jay?” The house was mostly silent but then she heard it. The distinct smack of fists and feet hitting the heavy bag Jensen installed in the home gym. She sighed knowing this was the third day in a row Jensen had spent hours in the gym, working out until he was ready to drop. 

Y/N brought in the rest of the bags, stored the food, and changed her clothes. If she was going to join him in the gym, at least she could participate. It wasn’t like it was a hardship watching her husband in only a pair of shorts, his freckled skin dripping with sweat. 

She brought fresh water with her, setting it on the weight bench. He was breathing heavy, sweating, and red-faced. Jensen was not out of shape by any means, but he somehow had gotten it in his head that he needed to get into better shape. Maybe it was the pressure of becoming Soldier Boy, maybe it was that he was approaching his “mid-forties”, it could have been a few things, but Y/N thought she knew exactly what had prompted this new obsession. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, babe,” he rasped, his breaths heavy with exertion, his hair soaking. “Just a few more minutes.” He landed another two punch kick combo. 

“Jay, you have got to take a break. You can’t keep going like this, hours a day, day after day,” Y/N pleaded with him. “This is enough for today.” 

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right.” He stopped, hugging the bag tightly, holding on as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Go shower, I’ll get dinner started, okay?” Y/N smiled, kissing him softly. 

“You got it. I’m pretty sure I reek anyway.” 

Leafy greens and brightly colored vegetables covered the kitchen island as Y/N chopped and sliced away. The cuts of meat were sitting out to warm up before grilling, and a nice bottle of a full-bodied red was breathing on the table. Jensen emerged from the hallway leading from their bedroom about thirty minutes later, looking a little worse for the wear. He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, swiping a handful of peppers, too. 

“I saw that mister,” she smiled, leaning into his touch. “But I’m gonna let it slide just ‘cause you smell nice.” 

“Better than before?” 

“Oh, way better,” she laughed, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

“Nothing, babe. Just trying to stay in shape. I gotta get in that custom suit in a couple of weeks, and I ain’t getting any younger.” Jensen looked down, running a hand over his face, scratching at his beard. 

“That’s all, huh?”

“Yeah, just running isn’t gonna cut anymore. I have to keep up.” 

“Keep up with…?”

Jensen pretended he didn’t hear Y/N as he started helping with the salad. If he ignored the question, maybe she would let it go. It seemed to be working, for now, so he went with it, and continued to help her with dinner. 

“Jay, these look perfect!” Y/N gushed as she cut into the steak. She placed the bite in her mouth, the flavor exploding, and she moaned around it. “Oh my god, it's practically melting in my mouth!” 

“You made it easy with a superb cut of meat, babe,” Jensen shrugged, digging into his salad and grilled vegetables. 

All through dinner, Y/N noticed how he barely touched his meat or wine, but took extra helpings of the healthy stuff. She decided she would let it go, wanting to enjoy their meal, but soon enough, the dishes were cleared and leftovers stored. 

“Jay?” Y/N asked, rinsing the plate in her hand before handing it to her husband. “Can I ask you something?”

“Babe, you can ask me anything, you know that.” 

“And promise me you won’t get mad?” 

“I won’t get mad, but now I am a little suspicious,” Jensen raised one eyebrow, looking over at his wife. 

“Does your new workout regimen have anything to do with Jared’s spread in Men’s Health?” 

“No.” Jensen protested immediately. 

“Jay…” 

“Maybe,” he sighed, throwing the towel on the counter, then he turned, leaning against it. “Am I...soft?”

“Soft? I think you are the kindest, most generous, loving man I’ve ever known,” Y/N replied honestly. “I am lucky I found you and even luckier that you love me.” 

“Well, thank you for that, babe, but I was asking about my physical appearance,” Jensen hung his head, his voice getting quieter as he talked. “Do I have a ‘dad bod’?” 

“Jensen Ross Ackles, you listen to me right now. You have never looked better and you are in the best shape of your life. You just completed a 15 year run on the most successful sci-fi television show in history, you are stepping into an iconic role that you were hand-picked for, and if a ‘dad bod’ looks like this, then yes!” Y/N gestured to her husband while rambling on trying to make her point. “No, you know what? Come here, come sit down with me. Bring the wine.” 

Y/N sat down with her laptop, intent on showing her husband the proof he needed to believe her and believe in himself. Jensen sat down next to her, handing her a fresh glass, as she pulled up photo after photo on the screen. 

“Do you see what I see?”

“No, I see a skinny kid from Texas with no hair on his chest and barely-there abs,” he scoffed. 

“Okay, you still don’t have chest hair, but what else do you see?” She prompted him again. 

“A pudgy mid-section and that was before I turned 40!” 

“Do you want to know what I see?” 

“You’re biased.” 

“You’re damn right I am, but I do know that your fans, the Dean-girls, well, they’re not wrong. Did you know that according to several fan sites, you and Dean have way more fans than Jared and Sam? And are you telling me that millions of people are wrong?”

“Millions?” he asked skeptically. 

“Okay, well, maybe not millions, but a lot! But I see a man that is in better shape than he was twenty years ago. I see a skinny kid from Texas too. But I also see a man who now is in the best shape of his life and way sexier than that skinny kid.. What is it that you’re always telling me when I complain about my baby muffin top or my thunder thighs?”

“That bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and beauty isn’t defined by your body shape; it’s defined by your soul and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” 

“Okay, and I usually argue with you when you do, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. We are our own worst critics, you know that. But I see a healthy body and strong arms. Arms that hold me better than any others on the planet. Arms that hold our children and comfort them when they are hurt. I see a sexy mind and a stunning soul, one that was made for me.” 

“Okay, I think that is enough wine for you,” Jensen reached for the glass, but you moved it out of his reach. 

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

“Fine, it could have been a smile.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, my exceptionally sexy wife made a pretty good point.” 

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well, she may also be the smartest person I know. She always knows just what to say when my dumbass is being, well a dumbass.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty damn smart. Because you know what else I did? I made arrangements for your visiting parents to keep the children overnight so they can swim until they pass out.”

“Wow, that is pretty smart. You know, I’ve been working out and I bet I could carry you all the way upstairs without breaking a sweat.”

“Oh, you’re on Ackles, but you are wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“We will definitely be working up a sweat!”

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​  @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​  @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​  @fangirlxwritesx67​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @waywardbeanie​ @jensengirl83​ @anathewierdo3467​  @winchest09​ @michellethetvaddict @magssteenkamp @waywardbaby  thewinchesterandreidwhore @anathewierdo

The Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @akshi8278​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @deanwanddamons​ @rockhoochie​

[adam-banks2024]

Bliss

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Adam steals you during a long study session to go play some hockey like the good old days.

The scent of parchment paper filled the Great Hall, along with that of fresh ink. You could see it shine on the paper if you were seated directly in front of a tall window. The most light comes through during sunrise and sunset, but at the time I’m studying, I wasn’t there during those hours. 

It was almost noon on a Saturday, but here I am, studying. These tables were a place I usually enjoyed, mostly because of the large quantities of food, but it soon had become the place that gave me migraines and a strong urge to doze off every now and then. 

Ever since I started my sixth year, the advanced potions class had turned into a monstrosity that I wasn’t sure I could handle. At first, it started with a few trips to the hall every month. Then it turned into weeks...and now I’m studying during most of my free time. 

I can’t understand why I’m struggling with this class in particular. In all of my other classes, I’m performing above average. Apparently, I just can’t get the hang of “the art that is potion-making.” God, if I hear one more uninspiring word from Snape I might jump from the Ravenclaw tower.

At this point I had been studying for at least four hours now, and I hadn’t even eaten anything that would resemble breakfast. Unless two stale crackers count. The best part about the whole situation is that I had only managed to memorize the ingredients of one potion in my whole time studying. One. So, still, I must persist. Because I do not want to spend a study hall with Snape. I let my grade fall once and suddenly I found out how awkward and unsettling an hour with the professor was. It’s not like he would even help me. He just told me to read from the book and stared at me the whole time. As much as I hate to admit it, having no time to relax was better than spending any extra time with Snape than I had to

As I reached across the table for more ink, a separate hand was already there. 

“Hey.”

 A long, dark robe hung from his shoulders, and a green and grey scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck. His cheeks and nose had a blush, while the rest of his face appeared icy. He carried a bag with him that had unorganized papers going every which way. 

“Oh hey, Adam. How’ve you been?”

Adam passed the vial to me and I dipped my quill. He put his belongings on the table and sat on the bench. 

“Pretty good. You?” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the mess. 

“Eh. I’ve been better.” My voice was laced with tiredness and a pang of hunger. Nothing that would have been noticed, though. 

He paused for a moment and then spoke again. “What’s wrong, Snape got you down because he couldn’t meet for a study session?” 

I snorted. Me missing Snape? Yeah, sure, in his dreams. It took me a few seconds to compose myself before I responded. “No. Quite the opposite actually.” Adam hummed in response and gave a small laugh. 

Once the noise subsided there was an awkward pause. I was waiting for him to respond, and I honestly didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t had a decent conversation with the kid since the beginning of fifth year. Now we’re almost done with our sixth. I decided that maybe if I returned to my studies, he’d take that as an opportunity to drop the conversation. 

I hadn’t even gotten the chance to open my book before he cleared his throat. “Gosh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He leaned his arm against the table and rested his head in his palm, fingers twiddling with the feather of my quill. 

I sighed, slouching in the process. “Yeah. Social interaction has been foreign to me.” 

Adam moved his other arm to the table, resting his head in both hands now. “Well I’m glad that you were just studying and not being torn apart by the whomping willow.” 

“Haha, yeah. I think I would prefer the willow.” We both laughed, knowing that potions class was hell. Well, I assumed that he thought it was hell. 

“Ahh, don’t say that.” It looked as though he was trying to think of what words to say. Mouth opening and closing, eyes darting everywhere. He must have pieced together what he wanted to say.  “You should join me and the guys for some skating.” I shrugged my shoulders, not answering. I knew that if I entertained the idea at all then I wouldn’t be productive the rest of the day, so I decided to read over my notes to get my mind off the subject. Still, Adam persisted. “Maybe take away some of your stress?” I paused. A break sounded really nice, but could I really afford one right now, or even have enough energy? 

“I don’t know, Adam. I have an exam on Tuesday.” 

Adam stood up and walked around the table with a childlike bounce in his step. “C’mon, y/n, it’ll be fun. Just like old times.” Now he was sitting right beside me, his lip now forming a pout.

 “Well...I guess skating for an hour or two couldn’t hurt. What time were you thinking?” He pulled me up. “Right now!”

All of my belongings were still in the hall, but I don’t think Adam had any regard for that. He seemed extremely excited that I had agreed to go skating with him. Well, and other people. Obviously. It’s not like it was just an invitation with him. They probably just needed an extra player so the teams were even. Whatever the case, I was glad to leave my studies for a few hours. 

We earned glares from the portraits as we ran through the west wing haphazardly, bumping each other as we went. Giggling filled the air and it was just like it was a year ago. There was no awkwardness, no distance. It was like we had stayed in touch the whole time we were apart. I’ll have to make a mental note to not let that distance between Adam and I grow again. 

“So, this is where I leave you.” I smiled at him as I turned to enter the Hufflepuff common room. “Well, for a moment. I don’t really want to get yelled at for being in  another house.” Adam shifted his feet.

“Oh. lighten up, cake eater.” He didn’t say anything, just stared at me. “Okay fine. If you’re that much of a stickler to the rules, you can stay out here.” He gave a sheepish grin.

As I walked up the stairs to my dorm, I wondered how that kid was even in Slytherin. He follows the rules, he’s super kind, and he brightens the room. Then again, you find tons of kids who break their house’s stereotypes. 

I ended the thought as I reached to grab a coat, scarf, and my skates. It had been at least half a year since I used them, so there was no doubt that I would be a little rusty when I got back on the ice. Once I was all bundled up, I made my way back to the hall where I found an Adam Banks standing in the same position that I had left him.

He gave a small smirk as I exited. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He hooked his arm through my arm and started to tow me to the frozen lake that was above the Slytherin common room. A blush drew to my cheeks, but I wrote it off as the scarf I adorned. Thankfully he didn’t notice. He was so focused on getting to the makeshift rink that I don’t think anything could have phased him. Not even Dumbledore in a bright, pink dress. 

The trek was long, but there wasn’t a lot of snow, so that made the trip more enjoyable. As we neared the lake, I could see the other guys in the distance. I could only make out Connie and Guy because they were holding hands, but there were four other people that I couldn’t see out on the rink. 

“Who’s all gonna be there today?” I looked up at Adam. The blush on his nose was even darker now because of the cold.

“Umm, Charlie. He had the idea in the first place. Averman wanted to come too. I think Connie and Guy. And then we asked Julie and Goldberg so we had goalies.” He smiled as he spoke, his love for hockey apparent.

Adam and I had played together when we were first years, but we hadn’t really known each other then. That’s where I first learned how to even skate. While I was still getting the bearings, Adam was already an extremely skilled player. When we were closer he used to tease me about it all the time, but he eventually stopped, and then just stopped talking to me all together. Maybe that’s why I’m so excited to go skating with him. After all, there’s no better feeling than reconnecting with an old friend.

The lake was pretty bare aside from two makeshift goals on the ice, and a few benches on either side. There weren’t any blue or red lines that we would have for actual games. Just plain ice. 

“And you’re sure the lake is frozen enough?” Images of me falling through into the chilly water invaded my mind. 

Adam shrugged his bag from his shoulder, “I’m a hundred percent sure. And if I’m not, I personally allow you to punch me.”

I rolled my eyes as I started to sit on one of the benches, putting a skate on. “Wow. how convincing.” He didn’t respond, so I just laced up my skates. Looking at the other people skating around, I wasn’t so sure how good I was gonna be. It had been at least three years since I’d really played a game of hockey, and you could clearly tell that these people practiced consistently. 

I stood up once I laced my other skate, and started to make my way to the ice. Much to my surprise, my balance wasn’t awful. I could successfully skate and stop without much effort. There were still times where I would wobble or need to regain my balance, but I should be able to hold my own. 

Adam brought me a stick and nudged my shoulder. I almost tripped, but I caught myself before anything else could happen. 

“You’re real funny, Banks.” I spoke through gritted teeth, still struggling to stay afoot. He offered both of his hands out to help me gain my bearings again. To my surprise, he started skating backwards, pulling me forward. I laughed, “where are we going?”

I could see Adam’s breath as he laughed with me. “To play, silly goose.” An amused expression was painted on his face while speaking, and he gave a big smile after. I started to skate with him instead of just letting him drag me along. After a moment, he just stopped. Because physics exists, I kept sliding and bumped into him. I almost fell but Adam grabbed me by the elbows before I could drop to the ice.

When he pulled me up, our faces were only an inch or two apart. The world around me seemed to fade until it was just Adam. Neither of us had said a word, we just stood there. Staring at each other. It was in that moment when I realized the blades of my skates were slipping on the ice. I didn’t really know why, because the lake was definitely frozen over, like Adam had said. It might have been because my knees had locked

Then I noticed the slight tug on my arms. I realised I was being pulled, not slipping. I was being moved at such a tiny rate that it was almost unnoticeable. Almost. As I neared Adam’s chest, I simply stopped breathing. My heartbeat sped, and I slowly started to lose my hearing. This feeling that I was only now feeling, had it been there the whole day? At the table, running through the hall, walking to the lake. Was it there the whole time? I was just to blind to have seen it. All of the time Adam and I had spent before we lost touch, was the feeling there too? 

Once there was no more room between him and I, Adam started to part his lips. My stomach was instantly in knots, and my mind preparing myself for the moments that were to come. Nothing else was said, and Adam closed his eyes. With no hesitation, he closed the gap between us, and pressed his lips against mine. 

There were no fireworks. No sparks, no pits in my stomach. Just pure bliss, as I kissed the boy that I met in fifth year.