#yeah I never got through making that edit cause of school :/

[pileofboneswrites]

THINGS ARE DIFFERENT.

SUMMARY — this year brought a world of horrors for you. a car accident just weeks before your first day of sophomore year leaves you with no memory of the last year of your life. six months later, things have settled for you; you've got perfect grades, you're a cheerleader and your boyfriend is the quarterback. life is great, perfect even, until a certain raven-haired boy comes crashing into your life, causing chaos and triggering some of your memories to come back.

PAIRING — sweet pea x fem!andrews!reader | reggie mantle x fem!andrews! reader

WORD COUNT — 9.6k

WARNINGS — shitty friends, mentions of a car accident, cheating (caught in the act), lying, angst, fighting, swearing, i think that's it???? (let me know if i missed anything!!!!)

A/N — the plot of riverdale is kind of muddled in this fic; hiram logde's plans are apart of it somewhat, but jason is still alive. no mention of "yn" everyone mostly refers to her as andrews, reg refers to reader as "sunshine" a few times, and fred refers to her as kiddo, also the absolute SHITSHOW i went through to post this, oh my god, tumblr formatting is FUCKED (i usually write everything in my notes app or on wattpad bc i have lost so many partially done fics to shitty service). like i get WHY, but AHHHHHHHH (that's me screaming at the top of my lungs,,, 24 hour loop edition), not proof read

MASTERLIST | RIVERDALE

YOU.

"ronnie needs our support on this," your twin brother archie explains, he's leaning against the door frame of your bedroom.

your back is to him, and you're trying to get ready to head out for school. your homework, laptop and other things sit spewed around your room. utter chaos from your midnight homework session. you straighten yourself, finally meeting his eyes.

"yeah, and? veronica is your girlfriend, not mine archie." you reply, leaning down to shove your laptop into your school bag.

"please?" he pleads, and you roll your eyes.

veronica lodge's dad is no good for riverdale, you can feel it. every move he makes seems to rattle one of archie's friends, or cause a disturbance within the town. since hiram rolled in it seems like one half of riverdale is always up in arms. first jughead when the serpents trashed the drive-in, and the northsiders because of the southsiders joining the now only school in riverdale.

"arch, i don't have the same kind of love from my friends you do. i step on their toes over this, i'm going to be an outcast." you reply, zipping up your bag.

"you can always hang with us," archie sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i know that betty misses you a lot, same with jughead."

"then why haven't they reached out?" you snap, sick of the conversation at hand.

archie always gets your hopes up, then plans fall through or they "unintentionally" leave you out. so, you're done. they know that you don't remember anything from the last year; the good, the bad or the petty. you're done trying to change things when with every effort you're shot down. you want normalcy. you want your friends back, but if they're not going to tell you what's going on, or make an effort, then why should you?

"just think about it, okay?" archie says, and you shake my head.

you throw my bag over your shoulder and push past him. you pause in the hallway, guilt creeping up on you, but ultimately decide not to worry about it. archie's been babying you, coddling you even since the accident. which to an extent you can understand it; you could have died. at the same time you feel like you never have a moment to yourself. archie's always lurking. you jog down the stairs, patting vegas as you slip out the front door onto the footpath.

the weather is hazy, it's damp out, fog lining the streets obscuring vision twenty feet head. you thank the powers that be for you remember a jacket. you pull your hood up as you walk towards the sidewalk, but you catch sight of your boyfriend's car parked on the street.

"morning princess," reggie calls through the open passenger window.

"morning reg," you reply pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.

"did you hear about southside high closing?" he prompts after you give him a quick peck on the lips. "means all the trash is going to be clogging the halls of riverdale high,"

"yeah, arch filled me in this morning. you'd think after all the drama surrounding archie and the serpents he'd be less than excited about them transferring in." you sigh, tossing your bag into the backseat.

"he's on their side?" reggie asks, mouth twisting in disgust.

"guess so," you shrug, pulling on your seatbelt as reggie pulls away from the curb.

"but you're not?"

"i'm indifferent," you reply. "i don't care one way or the other,"

"cheryl's going to hate it," he says, and you shrug again.

the drive is relatively short, and silent. when you and reggie aren't making out, it's usually pretty quiet. you're together on the principle of "it makes sense". that's quite literally how he phrased it when he asked you out. and to an extent he's right. it makes sense for a football player to be dating a cheerleader. it makes sense. that being said, your relationship is entirely physical and for show. you're more along the lines of friends with benefits than an actual relationship. he only calls you when there's a party, or he's horny. romantic, you know. reggie grabs your backpack, and you climb out of the car.

"morning!" betty shouts, climbing out of her mom's car.

"hey," you reply, watching as she b-lines towards you.

"you friends with cooper again?" reggie whispers, leaning against the passenger side door.

"no, her friends want my support about the southside," you whisper back, plastering on a fake smile.

"good morning," mrs. cooper says as she drives past.

"good morning mrs. cooper!" you reply cheerily, she smiles and waves before turning out onto the street.

"hey, can we talk for a minute?" betty asks, stopping a few feet away.

she looks like she always does. blonde hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, makeup pretty minimal and natural, and her signature grey crown sweatshirt.

"sure," you say, and reggie leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, as you grab your backpack from him. "see you in homeroom."

he just smirks at you, as you turn away. you feel his eyes on your back until the two of you slip inside of the school. you feel slightly more at ease without reggie by your side. you follow betty to the room dedicated to the blue and gold (your school newspaper). betty drops into her seat at her desk, and you drop your bag on the table and plop down in the chair on the otherside of her desk. you sit, crossing your arms over your chest.

"whats do you want?" you ask, your question coming out ruder than you'd intended.

"i uh, i wanted to touch base." she says, averting eye conact.

"touch base? we haven't spoken since before my accident, betty. what do you really want?" you snap, becoming both annoyed and upset that she didn't actually mean it.

you could have played dumb, you could have gossiped, you could have gave her a life update. but you spend so much time being fake with your 'friends' that you can't handle any more superficial small talk that neither of you will remember. she looks taken a back by your brashness, and you feel a twinge of guilt. just a twinge.

"i—" she starts, but you cut her off as you forcfully shove your chair back, causing an awful screeching sound as it drags across the tile floor.

"look, cooper, if you need something, be straight with me and don't get my hopes up to use me for information." you grab your backpack and trudge into the hallway crashing straight into someone sending you flying back.

you grunt, bracing for the impact but instead you feel two hands on my arms steadying me. you peak your eyes open, and see a tall guy with dark hair and a leather jacket.

"oh shit, i'm sorry," you mutter slipping past him as you rush up the stairs.

you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, like someone's watching you. you turn your head as you head up, and see the guy who caught you staring in your direction. he looks pissed, and you wonder for a brief moment if that anger is directed at you. you feel someone poke you in the shoulder and you turn your head to look at them. you jump in shock at how close she is.

"you good?" cheryl asks, the usual distaste in her voice, one eyebrow raised in question.

"yeah, fine," you reply walking in step with her, glancing down the stairs, to see a brown and pink haired girl pulling him away.

"—and i don't know why she wants this so bad—" cheryl's voice drifts off into backgroung noise, something that tends to happen more and more frequently.

that guy looked weirdly familiar. you swear you've seen his face before but you can't seem to place it. which is also happening more, and more frequently to you. you know it's going to bug the hell out of you.

"—and i said—" cheryl continues, as you head towards english.

"andrews!" you feel two arms wrap around your middle, and you're yanked backwards and lifted up.

"ahhhhhh!" you shout, startled by the sudden movement and contact, your kneejerk reaction is to raise your elbow and throw it into the first piece of flesh you connect with.

"andr- shit!" a familiar voice yells, as you free fall to the ground, landing on your ass hard. "what the hell, dude!?"

you lift my head and see cheryl's twin brother jason leaning over, clutching his stomach in pain. you clap your hand over your mouth in a mix of embarrassment. he glances down at you, rubbing the tender area, mouthing 'what the fuck' over and over.

"shit! jason, i'm so sorry—" you say, quickly standing up, he waves you away so he can take a second.

"what has you so jumpy this morning?" cheryl asks, crossing her arms and raising both her eye brows at me.

"no clue," you reply truthfully.

"too much caffeine likely," jason says, standing up right and throwing his arms cross both mine and cheryl's shoulders to guide us to class.

"how many cups a day are you drinking?"

"two," you reply, no hesitation.

you haven't been sleeping much lately, or at all really. you weren't sure what was worse; the lack of sleep, or the fact that when you do manage to fall alseep all you seem to dream of is the four agonizing hours you were trapped in your car after the accident.

"four with extra espresso." jason chirps, and you mock elbow him and he flinches, dropping his arm from your shoulder to shield himself. "not cool dude,"

"aw, prwincess," you mutter tapping his cheek with your hand.

you duck under his arms at a weak attempt to catch you, and slide into class dropping into your usual seat beside ethel muggs. mrs. leroy has all the desks grouped in twos. she likes to assign a lot of partner assignments and classwork, so you ended up with desk pairs.

"good morning," ethel says brightly, and you smile at her.

"good morning ethel, how was your weekend?"

"it was good, how was yours?"

"it was okay," you reply and shrug as mrs. leroy, our english teacher waddles into the room.

she drops her bag beside her desk and takes off her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair before standing at the front of the room and clearing her throat.

"alright guys, we have a bunch of new students joining us. i'm sure you heard about the students from southside high tranfering in, and we're going to be very welcoming. as such, i've decided to change up your desk partners to kick off our next project." she says, and everyone groans. "hey! who knows, maybe you'll meet your new best friend!"

you drop your head down on the desk as she continues to speak.

"i call your pairs and you'll move to the assigned set of desk pairs, every up."

everyone obeys, clearing to the back, front and sides of the room as she spends the next fifteen minutes reseating you.

"mr. blossom and ms. topaz, these desks please." jason nudges your foot as he passes.

"she's pretty," he mouths and you roll your eyes, a shit eating grin on his face.

"mr. sweet pea, and ms. andrews."

"sweet pea, what kind of name is that?" cheryl snickers, rolling her eyes.

you step forward, dropping into the closest desk to you, ducking your head to look into your backpack for my notebook and pencil. you drop them onto the desk, and look ahead to the board.

"uh, excuse me—?" you turn my head, and see the guy who caught me in the hallway.

"yeah?"

he's cute. messy—but like the intentional kind of messy—dark hair, with curls over his forehead, and dark eyes. there's a hint of ink poking out over the collar of his leather jacket, you catch sight of a snake's head.

"can i— uh— can i borrow a pencil or pen?" he asks, and you nod, turning to dig into you backpack for one.

you feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you dig. you pull out the first pen you find and hand it over. he reaches out, grabbing hold of it, and your fingers briefly touch. a shiver immediately shoots down my spine, and you drop your hand. you get a flash of a memory, it's difficult to piece together what you're remembering. you see a flash of a half empty vodka bottle, a leather jacket, and a tattoo gun. you gather your things, and jump out of your seat rushing to the bathroom, you hastily shove your notebook away and drop your bag upon entering the bathroom. you drop to your knees in front of the first toilet you find, and empty the contents of your stomach. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean back against the stall dividers, trying to catch your breath.

it was like for a brief moment you was there. you could hear the tattoo gun buzzing, you could feel the scratch against your skin and you could taste the vodka. you stand up, and walk over to the mirror. maybe you're losing your mind. you would notice a tattoo, wouldn't you? if you didn't know to look for one, maybe you wouldn't... you lift your hoodie a little, and catch sight of one of the snake's heads poking out from under the underwire of your bra.

"holy shit," you breath, pulling your hoodie back down.

you lean down, and turn on the water slashing it onto your face. you stare hard at yourself in the mirror. how could you not see something like that? why didn't anyone tell you? you were told that you grew apart from your friends, but by the looks of things you had a whole other set that no one knew about, or at the very least didn't want you to go back to. the bell rings, signaling the end of first period, and you stand there staring at yourself in the mirror. the door opens slightly, and the brown and pick haired girl sticks her head in and sees you.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, opening the door fully to come in.

"uh, yeah, i think so." you reply, and she nods, not pushing the topic any further, which you appreciate.

checking in on you is a small act of kindness that not even my so-called 'best friend' cheryl could give. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, and pull it out, turning away from the sink to lean on it. think of the devil, a text from cheryl.

you don't reply, you just sigh, and shove your phone back into your pocket. you look up and catch the girl's reflection staring at you.

"uh, sorry." she says and you shake your head, mustering a small smile.

"it's okay, i'm—," you say, sticking out your hand to her.

"actually, we've met bef—" she cuts you off, but is cut off by the bell ringing.

then there's a loud bang on the door, and it opens slightly.

"topaz! we need to talk," it's sweet pea.

she throws you a sympathetic smile and heads out to the hallway. you there for another few minutes, fully aware of the fact that you're missing chemistry before you pull your phone back out, and call your dad. i can't handle this, i'm incredibly overwhelmed. all of this is too much. i know toni? i'm a southside serpent?

"hey kiddo, what's up?" he asks, answering on the first ring, it's his coffee break. "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"i am," you reply, your voice shaking, immediately giving away how you're feeling. "i just— dad—"

"sweetheart?" he prompts.

fred andrews, a saint walking, ever understanding. you're incredibly blessed to have him for a dad. you force yourself to take a shaky breath, you're on the verge of tears and your eyes burn.

"can i have a day? i just— i'm so overwhelmed. can i go home?" you ask, the dam breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"yeah, kiddo, i'll come get you and sign you out for the day, okay?" he says, and you whisper okay. "hang tight, i'll be there soon."

"thanks dad," you say, and hang up.

you stare at your reflection, your eyes are puffy and you look like hell. your hair is a mess, but you really don't have the energy to fix it. you grab a couple paper towels from the dispenser and wipe your face. you grab your backpack and head down to the office. you drop into one of the chairs across from mrs. bell's desk to wait.

"oh, hi," she says, exiting mr. weatherbee's office holding a folder. "how can i help you dear?"

"i'm not feeling well, my dad's coming to pick me up." you reply, forcing a small smile.

"oh i'm sorry to hear that dear, i hope you feel better," she gives you a sympathetic look as she plops down at her desk.

you're used to the look; the sad eyes with a small forced smile, you'd recived it a lot since the accident. there were no fatalities thankfully, but it drastically changed your life. at least you have to assume it did, you'd lost a year's worth of memories and it only took you a severe concussion and a couple weeks of physical therapy.

"good morning, dorris," comes your dad's voice, he steps into the office and mrs. bell smiles at him.

"well hello, fred." she says, a faint smile on her lips.

everyone on this side of town loves your dad. fred andrews is the kind of guy who will drop everything if you're in a bind, whether you're a friend or not. he signs you out on the sign out clipboard and turns to you.

"ready to go?" he asks, and you nod, standing up.

he slings an arm around your shoulders, and you wrap an arm around his middle as you walk. he doesn't ask you any questions, but you're sure when you get home he's going to have some.

SWEETPEA.

"she acts like she's never met us before," fangs says, sitting down beside sweet pea on the steps leading up to the bleachers.

they need privacy to talk about what's happening, this was the closest thing sweet pea could find. especially with all the gawking, stares and judgemental looks they'd been receiving since showing up to their new school this morning.

"i know, she didn't even say "hi" or anything. it's the least she could have done given everything," sweet pea grumbles, watching as toni walks towards them.

"she doesn't remember us," toni says, coming to a stop in front of them. "she literally doesn't remember us. like at all, she introduced herself to me in the bathroom,"

"what the hell?" fangs mutters, "maybe it's an elaborate plan to keep her summer in the snakes den a secret?"

"that is the dumbest thing i have ever heard," toni says crossing her arms over her chest. "you heard how she was talking before she ghosted us, she was over it all, the cliques, school, all of it."

"she said we were her family," sweet pea mumbles, "and then she disappeared. maybe it was all a lie,"

"jesus christ, or maybe, something bad happened to her, and she actually doesn't remember us." toni replies, the annoyance in her voice prominent. "and if she didn't remember us, then how would she know to contact us?"

"i sent her over a hundred texts since she disappeared, none of them have even been opened."

"case and point," toni says, rolling her eyes. "look, sit and stew in your misery, or confront her. i don't know about you guys, but i plan on getting my friend back."

with that toni turns on her heel, and heads back towards the school. fangs sighs, and stands up, brushing the dust off his ass as he turns to stand where toni had just been.

"maybe she's right," he says, looking down at sweet pea. "we know elly, she wouldn't just up and ghost us like this unless something happened. i want our friend back, and i'm with toni on trying by any means necessary to get her back,"

fangs studies sweet pea's face, looking for any indication that he's heard anything he said. after a moment, fangs sighs again, and turns to follow toni back into the school. sweet pea sits there on the bleachers, he watches as his friends grow smaller and smaller the further they get. he groans, and throws his head back. he's frustrated. he hasn't heard a damn thing from you in months, and then he sees you at his new school and suddenly his whole world collapses. he sighs, and pulls his cellphone out of the pocket of his leather jacket. he opens up his texts, and pulls up your messages.

you never showed up, you never called, you just disappeared. well, apparently you hadn't, but for sweet pea you did. other than toni and fangs he had no other friends in common at the time. no way of getting a hold of you when his calls all suddenly hit you voicemail. now here you are, back in his life, but so far from his reach. he had hoped a million times over the last six months that he'd find out what happened, that he'd get some kind of explanation or closure. something. anything.

but when his eyes landed on you, it was like all the anger towards you, and the situation melted away. for a second, it was like you were never gone. then that daydream snapped, and you were rushing away. not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. it hurt. his phone vibrates in his hand, and it brings him back. back to the bleachers, back to the harsh reality that you might have no clue who he is, back to the anger that swirls in his head, back to how much he loves you, and how much his heart hurts because you might no remember any of it.

he looks down at the screen, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as the bell rings again.

YOU.

"alright, so, what's up?" he asks, as you drop onto the couch.

vegas jumps up beside you, and drops his head into your lap. you run your fingers through his soft fur and try to figure out a way to start this conversation.

"what was i like over the summer?" you ask, looking up at him.

he's standing by the front door, leaning against the archway leading into the living room. he's got his arms crossed and he's watching you silently.

"you were like you are now," he shrugs, "you didn't spend much time home, at first you were busy with cheryl and then you got a job."

"a job?" you ask, that's new information. "where?"

"the twilight drive-in," he replies, "you made some new friends with your co-workers, or so you said. you and archie were barely home over the summer,"

there's a few moments of silence as you digest this new information.

"dad?"

"yeah kiddo?"

"where was i going? why was i in that car?"

"truthfully, i don't know. archie said the two of you had gotten in a pretty heated fight, and you'd stormed out. a few hours later i got a call from sheriff keller,"

you nod, and sigh, leaning forward. you rest your elbows on your knees, and rub your eyes.

"i had a memory come back," you say after a minute, you don't look up at him. "it was weird though, it was really intense. it was like i was inside the memory."

"do you know what triggered it?"

"no," you lie, until you figure out what's going on with you, you plan to keep sweet pea and toni out of things. "it just hit me in the middle of english, and i had to get out of the room. i went to the bathroom and i puked."

"you puked?"

"yeah, nausea hit me seconds after the memory."

"well, at least you're making progress. the doctor said it could take a while,"

you nod, finally looking up at him. he checks his watch, and comes into the livingroom.

"you take it easy okay? don't strain yourself," he kisses your forehead and heads back to the front door. "i love you,"

"love you too dad," you murmur, watching him leave.

when you can no longer hear the rumble of his truck, you decide to head up to your room. until the accident you'd kept a near meticulous set of diaries, if you can find the one you was working on, maybe it can shed some light on what's going on.

it's weird, you're you, living in your body, but up until six months ago you were a completely different person. it's like living inside a stranger. you step into your room, it's a mess. clothes litter the floor, spilling from your closet, empty take away coffee cups, empty mugs from downstairs and energy drink cans litter the top of your dresser and desk. you go to the hall closet across from your room and grab a garbage bag and head back in. might as well clean up.

a few hours later you stand in the center of your now clean room. all your clean clothes have been re-folded or hung up, all the dirty clothes are in the wash and there's not a single thing out of place. except for—you squint, dropping to your knees in front of your bed, leaning down to pull two cardboard boxes from underneath. one is marked MY NOTEBOOKS, DON'T TOUCH (THAT MEANS YOU ARCH) in all caps—obviously your diaries, but the other has no label. you take off the lid and audibly gasp at the contents. sitting on top is a leather jacket with the southside serpents logo on the back, under the jacket is a dark green journal, a white handled switchblade, your old cellphone and a set of keys.

the screen on the phone is shattered, pretty near unusable by most people's standards. no one knew where your phone was after the crash. you'd just written it off as lost... finding it here, in this box changes things. you put it on the charger, and sit cross legged on the floor. maybe it'll be able to turn it on, if not you could to take it to a repair shop. you pick up the jacket, and check all the pockets. inside the left pocket is a half crumpled note, you pull it out and flatten it. it's definitely not your writing. it has one sentence, and it crushes you.

i love you too - sweet pea

you drop your hand holding the paper into your lap. that just makes everything even worse. does he know that you lost your memories? does he know about the accident? does toni? do they think you're pretending? were you on your way to see him when you crashed?

"fuck," you whisper, pulling your knees up to your chest.

you wanted the truth, and you got it, well part of it. how do you process all of this? how do you fix this? god, you just want to scream. throw things. have a little bit of a meltdown. it won't fix anything, but it might make you feel better. you rest your forehead on the edge of your bed and sit there on the floor, the jacket half hanging out of the box.

"hey?" comes archie's voice from the hallway, i jump at the sound. "hey- are you okay?"

you kick the box under your bed and glance up to see archie. he stops at the threshold, looking intently at you. you hear more sets of feet coming up the steps.

"i—"

you want to lie, you want to tell him you're fine. say everything's a-ok. but it's not. it's really not. and then betty, jughead and veronica come up behind archie and the damn breaks. you start violently, and uncontrollably sobbing into my arms. how did you wake up a year and a half older with such resentment for your three best friends? how did your life fall apart so quickly?

"hey, sh, sh, you're okay, everything's okay," archie says dropping to his knees to envelope you in a hug.

the other drop down on the floor with you. veronica and betty rub your back soothingly. you need to apologize, but you can't stop crying. maybe that's just as well, still a meltdown, just a different kind you suppose.

"i'm sorry!" you cry, frantically wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

you dislike crying in front of people, and you know most people don't like having someone cry in front of them. you try and steady your breathing.

"hey, you don't have to apologize," veronica says. "we've all kind of been terrible friends since your accident,"

"that's why we're here," betty adds, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

"that's why they're here," jughead says, and betty swats at him and misses. "hey! let me finish woman! i was going to say, i've been a great friend. we had lots of fun working at the drive-in together,"

"jug..." betty says softly, using that same tone people often use when they're tip-toing around things that might hurt you. she shakes her head slightly, "she doesn't—"

"hey! don't talk about me like i'm not here!" you say loudly, all three of them turn to look at you. "i'm not fragile, you don't have to choose your words carefully around me, i have amnesia not brain damage."

"you're right," veronica says, staring each of them down until they nod. "we all need to stop treating you like glass,"

you quickly stand, your back to them for a minute. you take a deep breath, and turn around.

"arch, what were we fighting about when i left?" you ask, and he looks at you for a moment before swallowing, hard.

"you felt abandoned," he says, his eyes falling to the black rug they're sitting on. "you were upset because we were going on our annual nyc trip, but i'd also promised ronnie i'd help her with something in the morning, and i wanted to push the trip back by two, three hours. and you got really upset and exploded on me—it was entirely justified on your end—there was a lot of things you wanted to do together over the summer and i either canceled or forgot. i was a shitty brother."

"no, arch, you weren't. i'm sure i was just being drama—" you start, but archie raises his hand and you stop.

"no, i was being selfish. i made you a promise, and i broke it. i'm sorry," archie says, standing up and pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm sorry, i really am."

"and we're sorry," jughead says, as archie lets you go. "we thought that giving you some space would be a good thing, but we all got a little caught up in our own shit."

"i understand that, however, i've been alone pretty much for six months." you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

"you've had cheryl, and jason, and reggie—you seemed like you were pretty happy..." betty says, and you shrug, looking away from her. 

"cheryl is nice— but all we talk about is her. jason's fun to hang with but we have nothing in common other than reggie and cheryl. and reggie.." you sigh, staring out your window over their heads. "reggie made sense."

"he made sense?" veronica asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"picking reggie made sense, and don't get me wrong i do like reggie, he's a great guy—a good listener, great at solving problems, fun to hang out with and all—but there's no connection." you sigh, you briefly contemplate telling them about the jacket, about your supposed summer with the serpents, but decide against it for now.

"are you going to break up with him?" archie asks, and you shrug in reply.

"i probably should," you sigh again, why does all of this have to be so damn hard? "did he ask about me when i disappeared this morning?"

"yeah, i told him you weren't feeling well. dad text me about you being home," archie says, and you nod.

"well, i say we grab dinner at pops tonight like old times," veronica says when the silence goes on a beat too long.

"honestly, i would love that, but i have to tie up some lose ends first. i'll meet you guys there at," you pause, walking over to your old phone, tapping the screen, relief shoots through you when it lights up, "say, 6?"

"sounds good," betty says, and they all stand up.

you unplug your phone, pocketing it as jughead, archie and veronica file out, heading back downstairs, but betty lingers.

"you okay, cooper?" you ask, teasingly.

she turns towards you sharply, hands clasped behind her back, "this morning, i— i really was trying to touch base with you. i know that the whole southside thing kind of has half the school losing it, but you told archie no, and i wasn't going to push it. he mentioned that you were upset about the group not reconnecting with you after everything, and i just wanted to see how you were— are."

"i owe you an apology for how i acted, i was frustrated with arch, not that that's an excuse, but i just kind of snapped. i'm really sorry, i shouldn't have taken that out on you betty,"

"your anger is justified, we should have been by you every step of the way—"

"you were busy, things happen. i missed you guys, sure, but this entire thing has been insane. i woke up six months ago with no memories from the last year. and to be fair, it's not like i made much of an effort with you guys."

"well, we're all okay now. and, you could never truly get rid of us,"

you let out a short laugh, throwing your arm over her shoulder, leading her out into the hallway.

"and you couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you say, and betty grins at you, her arm circling your back as you descend the stairs.

you're standing outside the mantle's house, trying to decide if now is really the best time to be doing this, but your rationality wins out and you move towards the door before you lose your nerve. you raise your hand to knock, but the door flies open and you're met face to face with mrs. mantle. 

"hi dear, are you okay?" she asks, a warm smile on her face. 

"yes. ma'am, i just..." you were not prepared for his mom to open the door. 

that was actually the worse possible thing that could have happened. mrs. mantle has always been such a kind, and wonderful person towards you. you almost wonder if she's the reason you'd let things between you and reggie continue as long as they have. 

"sorry, is reggie home?" you ask, and she nods, stepping out of the way to let you in.

"he's upstairs doing homework, are you staying for supper?" 

the longer you speak to her the more you're dreading following through with this. she's such a nice lady, and you're not entirely sure how reggie's going to handle this. you really don't want to lose her. 

you force yourself to shake your head, "no ma'am, i just have to talk to reggie and then i have dinner plans with my brother," 

she nods again, and you slip your shoes off, and head upstairs. 

you've been here so many times that you don't even have to think about where you're going. as such, this leaves time for you to panic and try to talk yourself out of it. you're not sure why. reggie had been a crush of yours for a long time, from middle school to freshman year at least. when you woke up without your memories from the last year, you'd still felt that way about him. you'd been excited when he initially asked you out. mind you that excitement fizzled rather quickly, realizing what the arrangement meant for your relationship.

you were disappointed, sure, but you weren't blindsided by any means. reggie had always given you the kind of vibe that he wasn't interested in settling down just yet. so, when you push his partially closed door open and find him with his tongue down the throat of a different cheerleader, you're not entirely shocked. the girl notices you first, she's younger than you and reggie by at least a year, and she squeals, pulling away from him. he doesn't notice you at first, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion before he follows her eyeline. they both look like deer, and you're the headlights.

"uh, h-hey..." reggie musters, sitting down beside the girl, "i think you should probably go,"

"y-yeah, g-go...." she says, jumping up and flying out of the room.

you stare at him, unsure of how to continue. sure, he'd made this infinitely easier on you, but at the same time you still find yourself hurting a bit.

"i'm sorry," he says, dropping his head into his hands.

"despite our "arrangement", reg," you use air quotes, "i thought you respected me more than this,"

"i do!" his voice comes out loud, then softer, "i do."

the silence that follows is deafening, and feels like it stretches for hours. he doesn't look at you the whole time, his eyes trained on the ground.

"well, you've made this decision a whole lot easier for me. i'm breaking up with you, reg." you sigh, "i don't hate you; i'm not mad at you; i am a bit disappointed, but i think we were kind of doomed from the start. maybe in a couple months we can try to be friends, just friends. if you're down with that..."

he raises his head, guilt written clear across his features, but he nods, "i'm sorry, sunshine. i really, really am."

"i know reg," you say, leaning down to give his hand a squeeze. "so am i,"

you turn to leave, hesitanting in the doorway.

"reg?"

"yeah?"

you turn to look at him, "see you around,"

4:50pm. you have about an hour and ten minutes before you have to meet archie and the others. you plop down on your bed, and flip your diary open. there are only eight entries.

entry 1: may 16th

i can't do this anymore. faking everything. it's driving me fucking insane. betty, ronnie, and archie are always flaking on me. internship this. summer job that. charity this. sorry i forgot that. jug is the only one who hasn't consistently left me hanging, and we're not even all that close. that being said, out of all of them, i'm starting to change my tune on that. he's even offered to talk to his manager about possibly getting me a summer job at the twilight. which would be killer, i'm there for most of the showings anyway. at least i'll get paid for doing something i already enjoy. then at least i'll have something going on. i'm honestly not ok with them constantly rescheduling things but for whatever reason i just sit there and take it. i need to start putting myself first, and find some friends that put in just as much effort as i do. i wonder if the three of them will even notice if i stop putting in the effort.

entry 2: may 19th

guess who has a new job!!! me!!!!!!!! i'm so excited, i don't think i've been this happy about something in a long time. i start tomorrow night, and jug's already introduced me to some of his coworkers. i'll be working in concession. we're even allowed to sit outside and watch the movie when we're between customers. i'm so looking forward to having this. betty, ronnie and i were supposed to go shopping today but they both just texted to cancel. go figure.

entry 3: may 20th

first day was a success! my new coworkers are so nice, i even made quick friends with a girl named toni. she's got pink highlights in her hair which really suit her. i also overheard that she's a southside serpent. mind you she doesn't really seem like the kind of people i’ve been told are in that motorcycle gang. then again, you're not supposed to believe everything you hear.

okay!! it's later now, and toni asked me if i wanted to hang out with her and her friends at the quarry tomorrow!! that's the first time in a really long time someone’s asked me to do something with them! i, of course said yes! i’m so excited!!

just got back from the quarry, i had so much fun. more fun than i’ve had all year! toni is so much fun to be around, she has the best energy, and it's just so refreshing to be around someone who actually wants to do things and live in the moment. the last time i hung out with ronnie and betty they were both glued to their cellphones, undoubtedly texting jug and archie. i also met her two best friends sweet pea and fangs, who are also super cool. they were really nice, and welcoming. i was pretty nervous, because i’d seen the two of them at the drive-in with fp a bunch of times, so i knew they were serpents, but they were both so nice! i’m really starting to wonder if the serpents are as “bad” and as much of a problem as other northsiders insist they are.

entry 4: june 21st

oh god, it’s been a month since my last entry. i have so much to write about… i honestly don't know where to start. i’ve been hanging out with toni, sweet pea and fangs pretty consistently since that day they invited me to the quarry. i’ve stopped chasing archie and his friends to hang out, and i was right in my guess that they wouldn't notice if i stopped trying. i haven't received a single text from any of them. i mean, i have from archie, but he’s my brother so that doesn't really count in my opinion. and i guess jug too, but we're coworkers and he was the only non-flake before anyway. either way, it’s been so nice having toni, fangs and sweet pea reaching out to make plans with me and when i reach out to them they actually follow through. we all have a lot in common; we enjoy a lot of the same music and tv shows.

toni is a god with her camera, i don't think i’ve seen more beautiful photography, and she takes the BEST candids. she’s taken so many pictures of us, she’s going to get me some physical copies for my scrapbook.

fangs can get you ANYTHING. he’s such a smooth talker that people just end up giving him things. he even got us into a sold out _ show. i’m really not sure how he managed, but we got escorted by security to the barricade.

i was supposed to go with betty, archie and ronnie, but i decided to flake on them for a change. that did get me a few texts from each of them, and i didn't answer them. i just turned off my phone and enjoyed the show. it was amazing!!!!!! i had an absolute blast.

i’ve also been spending more time with sweet pea… alone… (obviously, with toni & fangs too) he’s nothing like i thought he’d be when we met. here i go again judging a book by its cover, shame on me. but he’s so sweet, it took a bit to get him to open up to me, toni says he’s just protective, which i both completely agree and understand. with friends as cool as those two, i don't blame him. he goes out of his way for everyone; holding the door for old ladies, standing in the middle of a busy street so kids can cross. he seems so scary and mean, but that's just his defence. we've been getting a really close, and every time he asks me to hangout i get butterflies.

we're hanging out tonight too, i’m going to pick him up in twenty minutes and we're going to the quarry. i’m sitting in a booth at pop’s waiting for our food. i really like him, and i enjoy spending time with him. toni said she’s never seen him so happy, and that she thinks he likes me. i really hope he does, because i like him. i might even tell him as much tonight… that might be a bit too much, actually. i don't know. oh, pop’s calling my order, i’ll update you later!

just got back from the quarry, and oh. my. god. sweet pea kissed me! i was all nervous, and i decided i was going to tell him how i felt and before i got the words out, he leaned over and just did it! i’ve had a few kisses before, some good, some not so much, but this one? it was the BEST i’ve ever had. that thing you read about in fanfics or novels about fireworks or butterflies, it's REAL. he asked me out on a date too, and i’m literally so excited. i called toni before i added this update and she squealed. she was right, he does like me. mine and sweet pea’s date is wednesday night, we're going to watch a movieat the drive-in and then in the morning we're all going camping at sweetwater river.

my phone is ringing… it’s archie? weird, he usually texts me. i’m going to answer him, i’ll be right back.

just got off the phone with arch. mom is coming down from chicago for the weekend, and we were supposed to go together to pick her up, now he’s backed out on me and i have to go alone. what could be more important than picking mom up from the airport?! especially considering we rarely see her. whatever, i guess it’ll give us time to talk.

entry 5: june 30th

just dropped mom back off at the airport. this visit was so fucked. i picked her up, we had a lovely conversation, and then she asked me where arch was and i had to lie to her. he said he was going to call her and let her know, but apparently he didn't. then, he didn’t show up for family dinner, which he was also supposed to help me cook (spoiler: he DIDN’T). when mom and dad asked where he was, i was like a dear caught in headlights. i have no fucking clue!! i called him, and BAM! voicemail. mom calls him and woah, he picks up first ring. he lies, and gets away with it. arch was gone all weekend which screwed up my itinerary. i mean, seeing mom was the highlight, obviously, but archie and i planned all this stuff and we didn't get to do any of it. not to mention, archie had promised he’s take mom to the airport because he was gone all weekend, and then he didn't show! again! i had plans with toni, and i had to apologize and cancel on her (which isn't fair to her or me (but fuck us i guess??)) anyway, i’m banking on archie cancelling our yearly trip to nyc with everything going on. i’d lay money on it now.

entry 6: july 1st

i’m so mad right now. archie saw me and sweet pea coming out of pop’s with lunch, and got in sweets face. he has NO RIGHT. especially considering how much he's left me hanging lately. i will admit, i did something i shouldn't have, but he said something he definitely shouldn't have (that i shant repeat here (just know it's vile)) and i then punched him. sweets then threw me over his shoulder and carried me to my car. i bruised the crap out of my hand, archie’s got a hard face i guess. toni and fangs tried to lighten the mood when we got back but i couldn't help myself. sweet pea and i ended up leaving early, and we just drove around for a while. when i finally did calm down, he thanked me for standing up for him. why wouldn't i?? archie has no right to treat any of my friends like that, let alone my maybe boyfriend (we haven't really labelled it yet). and archie’s one to talk about people’s “priorities” and who they “really” are, seeing as toni, sweet pea and fangs have done nothing but be great friends and have been there for me all summer and he (MY! TWIN! BROTHER!) couldn’t even see his mother while she was down from chicago. i haven't seen archie since our altercation at pop’s and i’m more than okay with that.

entry 7: august 15th

sweet pea and i got into a fight. it’s nothing major, and i know he’s just looking out for me, but somethings aren’t really any of his business. namely, things involving my family. i was telling him about mine and archie’s annual trip to nyc, and how this will be the first year that it’s just the two of us. mom and dad usually go with us, and it’s the highlight of our summer. i’ve been really looking forward to it, and that i’m hoping this will help mend the tear we’ve both been helping create in our relationship. i’m not going to entirely blame arch because i’ve definitely not helped… especially when i punched him in the face in july. he’s finally speaking to me again. it took a couple of weeks and awkwardly dodging each other but we’re at least talking again. which is progress i guess. we haven’t talked about it either. he just walked into my room last tuesday and started telling about this video he saw, and then everything was fine again. we’ve always been like that, but what archie said really isn’t ok, and what i did really isn’t ok either. i plan to bring it up on our trip. anyway, back to sweets, he’s worried i’m going to get super hyped up about this trip and then archie’s going to yank the carpet from under my feet (kind of like he’s been doing all summer, but i digress). we leave in two days, and so far everything seems to be going well. i should apologize to sweets before we leave though, cause i did kind of snap at him… adding that to the to-do list.

entry 8: august 17th

fuck archie. FUCK. HIM. sweets was right. FUCK EVERYTHING. GODDAMN NORTHSIDERS. 

that was it, the last entry. you wrote that the night of your accident. that's why you were in your car. that's where you were headed. you close the diary, and smack it off your forehead. you close your eyes, and then let out a scream of frustration. you throw the book across your room, and pull your old phone from your pocket. you sift through your text threads, you'd sent more outgoing messages to betty, veronica and archie then they'd sent back to you for months before your accident. turns out they weren't  just shitty friends afterwards. 

you pause for a moment, your finger hovering over fp jones' contact. why would you have jughead's dad's number? up until hiram started causing a stir in town, jughead hadn't even been living with his dad so you never would've needed to contact him. you click it and a bunch of text messages load in. 

things were falling into place for you. they were shitty friends before. you were going to need new ones regardless, that's how you ended up in friendship purgatory at riverdale high. cheryl just isn't your cup of tea, and you're still not sure how you feel about reggie after everything you witnessed this afternoon. one thing you do know; you owe some people an explanation. you close out of the messages, and go to your gallery. the first picture that you see is one of you, toni, sweet pea and fangs, your faces all pressed together cheek to cheek, smiling widely. you smile, and then suddenly it's like a damn breaks and a years worth of memories come flooding in. you drop the phone, and rush downstairs, grabbing your keys from the bowl by the front door. 

"you guys are terrible fucking friends," you say, not really caring to control the level of your voice as you stomp towards your brother and his friends. "not you jug, you're fine, i'm talking about these three."

archie, veronica and betty share confused looks then look up at you. you tower over their table, anger coursing through you. you stare the three of them down quietly, eyes darting from one to the other, to the other.

"uh, didn't we already go over that?" veronica asks, her tone light and joking. 

"not really," you say, "i got my memories back, and you guys were fucking terrible. what did i do to deserve being cancelled on, and forgotten about so easily by you three? especially you arch, you're my brother. my twin. you of everyone are supposed to have my back!"

betty and veronica's eyes drop to their laps, and archie freezes, his eyes wide. 

 "while i appreciate your apology from before archie, with all the facts, i don't accept. what you did was fucking shitty, and i never would have done that to you. never. as for you two, if you don't like me, or just don't like hanging out with me, or just don't want to be my friend, stop making plans with me. i'm done being treated like that, and if any of you want to make things right, actually make things right, you'll be able to find me with my real friends; toni, sweet pea and fangs. who, unlike you three, actually like spending time with me. and for the record, are really good people, and deserve to be treated with respect." you turn on your heels to leave, and then pause at the last booth, whipping back around, "also, fuck you guys."

you pray that you're right about this. you never hung out with them during school, so you weren't sure if they were going to be at the quarry tonight. the weather's still nice, so you're hoping that you're right. you turn onto the familiar dirt road, and catch sight of their bikes in the distance of your headlights. relief washes over you as you get closer, you see three figures walking towards you and you pull in beside the bikes, like you had so many times before. you turn the car off, and jump out. 

"fucking hell, andrews! you scared the shit out of us!" you hear fangs yell, a bark of laughter leaving him. 

"guys--" you say, walking closer to them, your heart beating hard against your ribs. 

you almost wonder if it's going to beat right out of your chest, you're  so nervous, but you're so happy to see them. you missed them. 

"told you she knew who we were." sweet pea sneers, cutting you off. "what schools out so you can be friends with us again?"

"what? no--" you start but he cuts you off again. 

"where were you? why are you back now?" he bites out, and toni smacks him. 

"shut up and let her talk." toni says, nodding at you. "go,"

"i got into a car accident on august 17th. i have no idea how, or what happened, but i was trapped in that car for four hours, and spent two days in a coma. then when i woke up, i couldn't remember anything that happened over the last year. i now remember everything, and am really, really sorry for unintentionally ghosting you guys for six months." you pause to take a breath, and gage their reactions, "i know how this all sounds, but i promise i'm telling the truth,"

toni smirks, stepping forward to throw her arms around you, "i'm glad you're back, i fucking missed you."

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

she turns to look at fangs, and sweet pea and holds her hand out, “c’mon boys, cough it up.”

begrudgingly, they both pull five dollars out of their pockets and drop it into her hand. fangs then moves past her, and scoops you into a bone crushing hug.

“missed you,” he whispers, then lets you go.

“missed you too,” you smile, and the pair of them slowly slink back to the fire they’d been sitting around, giving you and sweet pea space.

sweet pea stares at you, dark eyes unreadable, his posture tense. it takes you back to how he was when you met for the first time. closed off, on guard, and analytical. you want to reach out for him, wrap yourself around him and never let go. you’re not sure he’s ready for that, so you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. your fingers catching the slip of paper he’d given you months ago, curling around it, you put it out and his eyes close briefly.

“i understand if you need space,” you say carefully, unfolding the small scrap. “but if you ever actually meant this, you have to know that i never would have left you hanging like that intentionally.”

he takes the note from you, his eyes leaving yours to look at it. he stays quiet for what feels like an eternity.

“i know.” he finally speaks, eyes still on the note. “deep down, i knew you wouldn't have left. not when you socked your brother for me. i was just so mad… at myself for what i said to you last, at you, for not following through on your text… then seeing you at school– it didn't make sense. instead of really thinking about it, like toni did, i just–” his eyes meet yours again, “i don't know, i let my fears take hold, i guess.”

"i--"

"JUST KISS ALREADY; YOU LOVE HER, HE LOVES YOU, THE END-"

"FANGS, SHUT UP!" toni yells, the sound of her smacking him and him asking her to stop follows.

you and sweet pea share a glance, and then both break out in giggles. when the giggles subside, you step closer to him, your hand landing on his shoulder.

"i love you, sweets, and if you need time--"

"i've had enough time, what i need now, is you." he says before pulling you against him, and kissing you.

he pulls back briefly, letting you catch your breath, "i love you too,"

[fakemonalisa28]

So I made this concept album idea for Olivia Rodrigo, cause I’m a loser who does those sort of things, and one of the singles was called The Vampire and ummm

Olivia came into my house and read my mind fr

[svndaysaweek]

Overture (Prequel to Enlightenment) — {Feat. Karina}

8.7k words

A/N: You don’t know how old this draft is… I still remember that anon who sent a few asks about this series, and I really hope that they read this! This one is the longest I’ve ever written. Might not be the best piece, but I’m so proud of myself that I did my best. Thank you @dnd-writes for editing and giving me awesome advices. Enjoy!

*Prequel to “Enlightenment”

******

“Doesn’t matter how the two met. It’s about how they’re together ‘til now.”

******

It’s the first day in your new high school. It’s already March but the breeze is yet to blow winter away, strongly acclaiming its presence with the icy wind you face as soon as you come out of the main building of your school to go to the cafeteria. You haven’t made any friends to have lunch with yet, so you change your mind to just head to the smoking spot–behind the auditorium which is already an alien building itself–and kill some time smoking. You turn your way to the smoking spot inside the huge tide of students heading to the cafeteria. Freezing air makes you pace up to the spot.

After passing a few corners where even the wind has been disturbed to travel through, you find a drum can with fire in it making a peaceful crackling sound.

And a girl standing right by it as if wanting to get burnt. “Are you the new one?” Her voice is sharp enough to make it sound wary, yet quite chirpy to end up hitting you as rather coquettish.

“I don’t… I don't really know you,” Your steps towards her contradict your words. “Me neither.” At the fire you light your own cigarette. Your eyes scan her body from the ground to meet hers doing the same to you. The yellow name tag catches your eyes. Her name is Yu Jimin, third grade. And where the name tag is what makes your attention gather up too–perfect size, matches her wavy figure and sassy face, calmly heaves when she’s inhaling in the smoke.

“My name’s not that hard to read,” That’s when you realize that Yu Jimin, this unusual girl, will be an attraction with challenges. It’s all in her grin, in her turbid eyes that never leave yours–to be honest, it’s yours that never leaves hers; they won’t let the leash on your eyes loosen, until she wants to.

You suck it in, and breathe out a mouthful of smoke in the cold air. You look at her again and she's been watching you thoroughly, from head to toe, examining your body, shape, façade and all things she finds nice to look at, regardless of you mirroring her like once isn’t really enough.

She’s got such a nice, sculpted body, hidden under the school uniform but even more premo like that; concave and convex, it just hugs her curves impeccably. Narrow waist and wide, tight hips causing the skirt to struggle not to be torn apart. What’s more is her face, at the height of your chest, looking almost unrealistic, inhumanly beautiful, especially with a shallow grin like right now.

You are automatically making steps toward Jimin and she’s not backing up. You turn your head right to let out the smoke and then return to the ongoing gaze between you two.

“Don’t I look cold?” Jimin steps backwards, from the fire and from you. It makes you just automatically look at her legs, so slick and teem with femininity. You keep following what she tells you to do, what the hormones tell you to do.

“What do you want me to say?” It should be delivered as a counterattack to the dominance Jimin has shown you, but it, unfortunately, ends up sounding as if you were really confused. And Jimin almost bursts into laughter which she manages to hold in.

“So, third grade? What class are you in?”

“Two. You?” You drop the used cigarette and step on it to put it out. “Four. I’ll drop by sometime, handsome.”

Then she leaves the spot just like that. You are so interested in the girl Yoo Jimin. Given that she’s pretty like that, smokes around, she’s nothing like the normal students, obviously. And you can tell Jimin also found you special. Yeah, you know people don’t get to see a man like you quite often. You also know you don’t get to see a girl so appetizing like her often. It’s third year in highschool. You’re no amateur to let a girl play you around, rather, you’ve learned to control those feisty, hungry girls, but ugh, to be honest you don’t know what’s going on. 

******

She never comes to see you until the end of school. Nor do you, because you thought you could wait–precisely, you thought you had to wait. You definitely want to take the upper hand in this new relationship so you just head home, yet with a bit of disappointment. But you don’t let anyone know. Maybe she’s just playing you out. That’s unacceptable for you. You calmly wait for the bus deep in thought. Maybe find someone else tomorrow. I don’t know.

“Hey, going somewhere?”

Fuck. It’s her. Jimin.

You think of complaining, but swallow it back and answer. “Home. You?” Jimin shrugs with nonchalance. “I don’t know. Your place, maybe? Do you live alone?” She lunges in suddenly, and you could just let her be as spunky as she can be. “I do. Why do you want to know that?” You throw a question, feigning calmness, and Jimin just smirks back.

“Don’t ask me.”

You’re on the bus. You let Jimin take the window side and sit next to her. You stuff your ears with some random songs and lock your eyes to the screen in your palm to leave the absorbing girl next to you out of your world even for a second.

“What made you move to my school?” Suddenly one of your earphones is between her fingers, your arm in hers to squish her breast slightly which feels so intentional. This bold little chick keeps surprising you in unforeseeable ways. Besides, you can read that she’s definitely testing you. Seems a little bit like an upside-down situation, for you to be the object, and oh, don’t you say you don’t find this rather fun.

“Well, there was an accident. You don’t need to know any further.” Her questions don’t seem to end, however. An eye roll might silence her—

“You can tell me. It’s alri-“

“You’d better shut the fuck up, Jimin.” Your fingers hold her chin up, facing you, merely a breath away as your noses tickle each other. And what gets you a moment later is her eyes, round and glowy, that could easily see through your brain, trying to suffocate you in the vivid yet gooey gaze. And there she plants her words straight into your brain; I’m a little impressed, but try harder. 

A sudden squeak of the brake informs you to get off. You step out of the bus and Jimin quietly follows. Then you start walking at a rather slow pace. The sound of another pair of footsteps is the only clue of her existence for you.

“You made me wait.” You break the silence as you near your house. You don’t bother turning back to be an audience for her commanding attitude, but her cockiness nonetheless makes it to your ears.

“Well, I might have just forgotten. My bad.” You unlock the door, let Jimin in and close it. Right after the thud you pin her arms over her head with one hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from her.

“You made me fucking wait, Jimin. You’ll have to pay for it.” Your face is just a few inches from hers again. Your straining voice is mixed with her breath, hot, and your burning gaze never leaves hers, to return the blow that she had on your mind; you don’t know me yet.

“You should feel lucky.”

“Why?”

“I’m interested in you.” Jimin’s words, however, don’t sound tense or weak despite your visible dominance. Rather, it’s an impudent confidence that defies the dynamic knotted between your eyes. Jimin herself visualizes it with an even wider smile, dense with deliberate harm to your ego.

“Mmm…!” You dive into Jimin’s lips while your other hand suddenly wraps around her neck hard. Keeping the chokehold still, your hand once holding her wrists tears her school shirt open, letting the buttons randomly fly to the floor. With her hands free, they dangle on your arms. Her demure hand tries to push you back from her neck, but her tongue is flapping inside your mouth, already allured by the intenseness. Your other hand hesitates about before swiftly undoing her bra and Jimin drops it on the floor. You squeeze the godly pair of flesh and soon pull back from the kiss.

“Shit, you like it rough, huh?” Jimin giggles, with a killing lip bite, and discards her buttonless shirt. There you feel something kick your heart, to see a girl enjoying your selfishness and harshness for the first time. A thought that this girl might be the one for you passes through your mind like a hit-and-run truck.

You turn yourselves around and make Jimin walk backwards to your bedroom with your guide. Jimin doesn't wait to unbutton your shirt on your way, and the corners of her lips soon get pulled down by the lust exponentially charging up. You try to look calm but you’re no different–can’t help it in front of this amazing figure of Jimin, skin-to-skin just for you.

Entering the bedroom you push Jimin onto the bed. Her under lip experiences another intense bite as you lay her down and climb over her body, face to face just like a few minutes ago. With one hand supporting your weight, you take the other to her irresistible breasts and fondle them. Jimin hooks her arms and magnetizes your lips to hers for a delirious lip lock once again. Your hand slides down her torso to the button of her uniform skirt and undoes it then takes it off of her fatal legs and throws it to the floor.

“Next time you won’t wear these, okay?” It’s a demand but also a command, with your fingers on the wet spot on her panties. Her hands find themselves wandering on your toned chest, much in admiration. She nods quickly and unbuckles your pants.

“Needy,” Her hastiness makes you grin, and your words only make Jimin’s excitement grow.

“Yes. I am.” This is what makes you wanna accept the challenge; she’s talking things like that all too fresh, like you have to feel thankful for it. You take your pants off with your underwear to be fully naked. You help Jimin get rid of the annoying cloth being dampened by her pussy off her legs and throw it to the pile of clothes on the floor. With the anticipation for the next step Jimin’s breath paces up, running thin like her patience.

“You’re fucking big…” Jimin marvels at the way your cock tickles her belly button and her tummy. You slap her bare stomach a few times with your cock, spit on it and spread the slickness across with slow strokes.

“I said you’ll have to pay for it, Jimin,” You rub your cock on her wetness, gaining more lubrication, and slap your cock on her folds to see her reaction.

“Ah, please make me…Make me-OH FUCK…!” You push into the hilt with a swift thrust. The tightness draws a groan straight from your throat, and your right hand rises to her neck and chokes her hard again.

“You tell me who’s lucky. You think it’s still me?” Straight to the point that has been bothering you ever since it was spoken. You love to make things clear—dirty—who’s the one to stand and who’s the one to kneel. And if she ever intended to get under your skin, well, she pushed the wrong button.

Jimin’s eyes slam shut, unlike her agape mouth through which you can see her tongue has lost its way, dragged here and there by the hand of her senses, overthrown by what you’re doing. You keep thrusting in and out at such a pace, every time making sure your balls hit her ass, filling her tight hole up ecstatically with no vacancy.

“Hah, god…! It’s me, I’m the lucky one! I’m so fucking lucky to have your big cock inside me!”

“Good. See, your act doesn’t last a day.”

Her lips tremble, as if about to cry, as if all the fucking around was just a pretense and she actually has to be under you. She bites the lower one but can’t hold the shiver down. 

You move your hand from Jimin’s neck to her face, grabbing her cheeks in one grip. You bring her face close to yours, both shaking to the orgasmic rhythm but never losing eye contact. Then you slap her cheeks, out of nowhere, just enough for the sound to be pleasurable but not too painful. Jimin starts to drool when you do that several times more, with loud, long moans gradually turning into screams.

“Oh, fuck, yes…! FUCK YES…!” Done with the hitting, you push in your fingers to Jimin’s unsilent mouth to get a better hold of her body. A teardrop leaves her glossy eyes and rolls down to where her ear is. A perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, both of which makes you two forget about tomorrow.

“I’m cumming, Jesus! I-I… Fucking cummi-“ Jimin’s back viciously arches so upward that you almost slip out. Her arms don’t seem to settle for a while before they dig into your back to work as anchors, her body vulnerable in the midst of a destructive swirl of pleasure. But that’s none of your concern as you make the haze in her head threaten her consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” You wait for Jimin to come down but that’s so silly of you to do so; your ravageous ramming cock never lets her. All of a sudden you pull out, causing Jimin to shake immensely, and flip her on all fours. Her sex is glistening and the other hole is too, both of them slick with her juices and constricting irregularly.

When Jimin feels your cock rub on her pussy she collapses onto the mattress, only her ass up and her face down, exhausted on the bed, faced to the right. But whenever your cock teases her other hole Jimin shudders, toes curl and her fists try to tear your sheets at the sensation of her asshole getting stimulated.

“Agh, fuck…” You don’t warn Jimin when you insert the head of your cock inside her tight ass. This time even you can’t handle the pleasure of its tremendous tightness as you shut your eyes and groan loudly.

“Holy fuck, Jimin, this is so tight,” You tell her when you’re halfway in. Her body stays still, but her hands ball up and her toes curl until they all become pale. Every inch deeper inside her ass is the moment for you to admire the transcendental tightness you’ve never experienced from those other girls you have been through. Maybe you’re lucky too, to have found this perfect body with nothing to lament on.

“Oh, please, that’s deep! Fuck my ass deep just like-oh my fucking god!” Your reaction is quick—it’s more of a reflection though—doing more than what Jimin asked even before she finishes her words, beginning the mindless assfuck with such a carefree pace. You bring her powerless head up with your hand wrapped around her neck, tight, choking her again. The tighter you grip, the tighter her ass gets. You catch a glimpse of the crooked corner of her lips, which only fuels your inner engines to work even harder.

It’s just your thing; when you see a smile, you have to break it. You destroy it, and you sincerely cherish it when it’s gone.

As you reach your maximum speed Jimin’s distorted smile subsides and an even more euphoric look spreads. Mouth open wide, drooling down her chin and onto your hand on her throat, eyes open but white. As if she muted herself, Jimin doesn’t even breathe—not only because of your grip, but also the orgasm building up as fast as how you ram her ass. You grin at the sight of Jimin drowning in the sensations her own nerves convey; you create. It kills you how small her body is, when you can witness a simple—yet ruthless—piston to her crotch can dye her whole skin red, travel electrically to everywhere in no time, shrinking every minimal muscle. You release her, she falls down limp on the bed and screams at the anal orgasm hitting her, threatening her consciousness.

“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…!” You’re nowhere far from your own end, either. Your breath shallows down at the crazy tightness of Jimin’s orgasming ass. 

“Jimin, I’m cumming…!” You do. You reach as deep inside her anal cavern as you can and unload your cum, mind blowing pleasure coursing through every corner of your body. You shoot, and shoot, and shoot. Jimin clenches her hole for your cum to be deposited inside her with a lazy hum, in harmony with your groan seeping out of your gritted teeth.

It takes a few minutes for your breaths to find the normal speed. “No one’s fucked my ass this amazing,”

It surely was enough to bring amazement, undoubtedly the best you’ve had so far. You sit up and rearrange her hair for her.

“Did I pay for it?“ Jimin’s already got that bright smile back, and after such an extreme sex your barriers collapse in front of her, as you smile back at her.

“Very much.”

“Can you get my phone? It’s in my skirt.” You head to the pile of discarded clothes and do it for Jimin, who’s sitting on the bed with her head resting on the headboard. You toss it on the bed.

Jimin looks into her phone right away, scrolls down mindlessly and looks at you, who’s naked and standing next to the bed.

“Take a shower first, baby.”

Baby, she said.

Your eyes dart to hers immediately. Your face stays placid but you know Jimin knows you’re not at all used to it. You never really allow any strings attached with the ones you fuck; it’s a rather body-to-body entanglement than something emotional. But you’re surprised at how that word fits comfortably between you two. There’s something different. You look back at Jimin but her attention is taken by her phone already, again like a hit-and-run truck, but not completely as you can see her smirk the way you love. So you just enter the bathroom. 

In the shower you review the past 30 minutes—you had sex with the girl Yoo Jimin: nothing special. But not just that; Jimin has by far the best body of all the other girls you’ve experienced. You can tell you really enjoyed it today. You can tell she’s worthy of continuing the relationship. You like the way Jimin turns from a bubbly, sassy girl in school to a begging, screaming mess in bed under you. And the way she calls you baby—it dulls all your edges like a cup of boiling water would do to an ice cube. Just like the hot water pouring on your head.

You come out of the shower and see Jimin smoking on your bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed, elbow on her thigh, still aesthetically naked. She looks gorgeous like that. You walk to her, take the cigarette from her hand to your mouth. Then push her down on the bed, breathe the smoke in deep and throw the shortened cigarette away to the bin next to bed, breathe out, and share a smoky kiss.

A few moments later your rod pokes at her belly and Jimin parts away with a giggle.

“Fuck, I really have to clean my body.” You bring her off the bed with you. “Shut up and get down here,” With a smirk she does, and as soon as she adjusts her legs and position you shove your cock in her mouth. A gag earned.

But after that Jimin takes your big cock pretty well, without gagging or looking uncomfortable, even when her nose crashes on your crotch; you’ve found yourself a perfect girl, indeed.

“Nice.” Her teary eyes never leave yours throughout the session as you pace up for a brief finish. Adjusting to the speed of your cock moving entirely in and out, Jimin’s hands go up to the back of your thighs for firmer grip.

Jimin’s drool tickles down your balls and forms a small puddle on the floor. With the filthiest slurping sound Jimin bobs her head at the beat of your cock sliding through. Whenever her delicate tongue presses onto the underside of your cock you throb inside her mouth, making her head slightly move simultaneously.

Jimin’s tears meet the drool on her chin, and with a sound of her voice from her throat Jimin taps your thighs for you to pull out. You take your cock out of her mouth and slap it on her fucked face a few times, painting her face with her own saliva, to her liking.

“Finish it.”

Put the shower aside, and you shower Jimin with your lust deep into her throat. You feel your legs not far from giving in, but thankfully your cock is just the same, due to what Jimin is doing under you.

“Jimin, I’m-I’m close.”

Jimin starts to fondle your balls and that certainly helps you cross the line. In no time you fill her throat up white, and the room with your satisfied groan.

You look straight into Jimin’s eyes when you cum, and it’s astonishingly reciprocated when she gulps down your load quickly, professionally. As soon as you are done pouring into Jimin she stands up, showing you her clean tongue with a tilt of her head, and heads to the bathroom. You, left alone, giggle quietly and sprawl on the bed after putting on underwear. 

******

“Text me at lunch break. You know where to meet me.” You just nod at Jimin, who’s in one of your T-shirts that is just a little bit big for her; loss of all the buttons on her uniform comes at a cost. An inner beam blooms under your face when you find her just too perfect in that outfit of school skirt with your T-shirt tucked under it. Those unhidden bra lines count as one of many reasons for you to stare at her, take her in your arms right now and-

“Not now, perv.” Her smirk lets yours surface up to reciprocate hers. You stand up from the bed, approach her and walk her backwards to the wall. Jimin has been playful and relaxed with you and you like it. But when you—just like right now—detect submission in her eyes: you love it. You don’t stop your hand from rising up for her neck and have a good grip around it. You don’t stop the other from being pulled away to her gracious tits and squeezing them.

“Not now?” And there are those big eyes begging for you to go further, that bitten lower lip asking for any contact, as if the one who just quipped ‘not now’ choked out. Always hits you differently when she just switches from a brat to a subby mess out of control.

Contradiction is the most normal of things when you have a tight grip over Jimin. Her reddening face gradually forms a thin smirk when your lips close in to hers. Her eyes close, lips part for a mind-numbing kiss—

“Not now.” You make a sudden pull back and release Jimin from your grip. She stumbles and almost collapses on the floor so you hold her in your arms. For the same purpose and then some, her arms rest on your shoulders and pull you in, only to be denied by your hand pushing her chest off of you, leaving Jimin just keeping a hungry gaze at your lips and whimpering “Please.”

You finish tying the necktie, bring your thumb up to her lips. As it sweeps over them Jimin lets her tongue coat your thumb with her saliva which could’ve blended perfectly with yours.

“To the spot at lunch break, Jimin. And ah,” You stand down and pull her panties down in one sway and she helps herself out of them by lifting her legs respectively. You toss it on the bed and rise up again, for your collarbone to match her height, for her to look up at you again.

“You don’t wear the same panties for two days straight, do you?” Jimin just nods quickly and tries to crush her lips on yours yet again. Seems like she wouldn’t care even if you made her go to school all nude, if she could just mix her tongue with yours right now. Her efforts to make you kiss her is visible to you; eyes so seductive yet not able to take themselves off of their foremost target, lips slightly open for her tongue to peek outside. Seeing that you just step back and prepare to leave for school with an unseen smirk.

“Let’s go.”

******

As anticipated, needy and untidy Yoo Jimin sends you a dozen pictures of her bare crotch under her skirt, saying ‘Want your fingers inside’, ‘Can’t wait for the lunch break.’ Those are to be left on read.

Morning classes fly by as the bell rings to announce the lunch break. The class rushes out for lunch, has a race among them with some of them even running like they have something to win. And amongst that crowd you head to the spot, to Yoo Jimin.

She’s there already waiting for you when you turn the last corner. Legs crossed, back on the brick wall and a half-spent cigarette between her lips, looking so delinquent there with that insanely short skirt and in the shirt you gave. She notices you, has a reet smile on her and throws the cigarette on the ground, and watches you approach her standing still. No immaterial words or acts are needed when you can just kiss those lips like they’re yours. The remnant of the cigarette a fume that makes you dive deeper into this trance her tongue and yours are building, you spontaneously get rid of her skirt and are met with the wet skin under it.

Your fingers taste her crotch, slowly rubbing around and poised for any further indulgence. Her hands are, on the other hand, hectic with your buttons and when they’re done they swiftly go down to your belt. Your pants drop to your ankles in no time with your underwear, and with your erect cock emancipated, Jimin detaches from the kiss and spits on your cock and spreads it.

It all happens so fast that you are still enraptured by the kiss and her tits in your palms, leaving so many treats unfelt to your body. The next second you are inside her, making it even headier for you to follow up.

“Fuck, I needed this.” Jimin grits. With no clue of downshifting she takes the shirt off, her bra to follow suit, and hooks her arms around your neck to stand the frantic sex she wants from you. And that happens right away, as your instinct drops the hammer for you to automatically thrust into her even before you find yourself moaning at the sensation of her inside.

You keep your eyes closed while wrecking her pussy despite the eye candy that is Yoo Jimin during sex, and suddenly you notice her teeth on your shoulder. It’s a pain that can make you grin, that can make you savor the feeling, even it gets even stronger, because now you know that when she bites, she cums. Her legs give in, and you know it by the weight of her arms around your neck. Her walls clench harshly and there’s a stream of her juice down your legs when she cums. Yoo Jimin is so tactile, and when she cums her whole body does, for yours to recognize, you don’t even have to hearken to know it. The auditory input hits your brain the last, the pearly, shaky yelp of the orgasming needy girl adds up to all the stimuli you are taking.

When she comes down you slow down, lazily reaching her cervix as she hums at it every time.

“Kiss me, baby.” You do. It’s saccharine to your tongue. Her tongue distraughtly moves around inside your mouth, some of the drool leaking onto her tits to make it even more impeccable. The gustation mesmerizes you into a rabid sex, this time for yourself to get off. No subduing, only upshifts lead the way as you turn her around, put it back in and lavish thrusts into her sex.

“Shit. Jimin, you’re so fucking perfect.” You’re not saying this again because she might not have heard it; you are repeating it like a low-functioning machine because you’re afraid you haven’t said it enough. And she can condone it—of course she can, it’s a compliment anyway—because she knows it already, because the feeling’s mutual. You say it several more times on the back of her neck, almost making it a tattoo, carving it in intaglio. Still deranged, Jimin is just screaming with her back arching to the sky and carotically facing the brick wall with her left cheek. The right side of her face is rosed up, and her eye has a glimpse of you, your wry face and the sweat-coated torso and shuts and she cums just like that. 

Her breaths are shallow, irregular, a gusty fluid squelches out of her pussy and the scene of her orgasm is intimidating your endurance, easily sending you to an orgasmic stupor and making you spurt out inside her with a gritted groan. 

“Jimin, I… God, fuck…!” To your overstimulated cock Jimin has her shrewd tongue on it, sealed with her lips. Makes your legs wobble, unmercifully agitating your mind with frenzy, but just until she clears your shaft up clean from the tabloid juices all over it.

“I loved it. Maybe we should make it daily.” Jimin rises up, with her skirt and your shirt in her hands and still breathing somewhat heavily. And the desecrated smile on her face is the coercion for you to wear one too, a copacetic one. Shirt on, a smoking cigarette between your fingers, you insinuate to her.

“Your panties are still on my bed, you know.” And she’s shrewd with it—has been from the very beginning—and purrs. “Mhmm, I’m going to go fetch it after school with you.”

Of course, is what your nods that follows says, and there’s my girl, says your zest-filled grin, looking at her back that walks out of the corner. It’s always that intrinsic sass you could simply, so simply kill for. Maybe a challenge for you, maybe a finesse for you to be benumbly trapped into. It’s your choice, and from some point on the latter looks dazzling to you; maybe you’re a person who just dyes so well, to a derogated girl who seemed to have taken everything you’ve given but turns out she just put you in the phantasma of her own stardust without you realizing it—you’ve lost it in her, somehow. And that’s bizarre: and you love it.

******

You’re standing at the bus stop, hands in your pocket and looking around to find your girl. When you do, you’re so surprised at how Jimin so stands out among all the crowd while doing nothing but just walk. Even from miles out you’re sure you’ll spot her in a second. The belle of the crowd, wherever she is. She’s not the tallest but still piques herself on her to-die-for aura like she blurs everyone out. As if she sensed the scrutiny, Jimin looks up from her phone, looks around and soon finds you looking at her. You hate to be seen so infatuated like this but you can’t help it, as your eyes meet hers and your face brightens up, half from seeing her and half at yourself caught like that.

“That happy to see me?” You don’t answer, just bring your hands to her crotch and check there’s no underwear blocking your way. A flick over her uncovered pussy earns you a shocked look.

“This is not your bedroom!” Jimin shouts in whisper, but not with caution, but an intrigued grin with eyes darting around the crowd waiting for the bus.

“Are you telling me to stop?” You take your fingers to her mouth, her tongue welcoming the taste of horniness coated all over your fingers. “I’m telling you not to stop.”

So your hand returns to her pussy. You’re rubbing, tapping on and hooking your fingers in, Jimin bites on her own fingers not to relinquish her scream. You hold her trembling body as steady as possible but you know that it’ll be absolutely normal if the people around you realize that you two are having a little fun explicitly in public. Everyone’s looking at you and Jimin in front of you, facing the same way as you and receiving that dirty fingering amongst so many audiences.

In a few minutes the bus is here, to show you only one vacant seat left. You take the seat and Jimin sits on your lap, facing backwards and hugging your neck. You resume the unholy yet entertaining fingering to the pretty moaning girl on your lap.

And you return to who you really are: you’re a gentleman yourself, with etiquette, with common decency, to pull Jimin’s head down on your shoulder to muffle her nasty sound on it. You know even the driver is looking at you through the mirror, but that’s because of her, not you; again, you’re making no noise, and Jimin in your embrace is the culprit of all the squeaky, watery, moaning noise, not you. 

“Quiet, Jimin.” Now her teeth dig into your skin, synchronizing with your fingers indulging into her wet, tight hole. You know what you’re doing won’t shut her up. You’re just saying it, a formality. Inside your mind you want her to moan loudly, at the same time want to see her struggle keeping it quiet. So you yank her hair back to watch her distorted face, observe every tiny wriggle of her expression.

“Ah…!” Look into her eyes as if wanting to pierce through them. Jimin looks at you too, flooding with lust, drowning in her own sensations of sex and embarrassment of being exposed in such a public situation. “I’m almost there.” It’s a plain text but she’s begging there. She says she’s almost there but she’s already there, as it seems.

“Yeah, we’re almost there.” A bump on the road makes your fingers hit her spot, makes her back arc, makes her almost, almost lose it right there. You pull out your fingers from her hot cavern to the relatively cool air of the bus. Her liquid feels fresh out in the air but that feeling is soon lost, by her tongue wrapping them up and sucking it clean—suckling it dirty.

The bus stops right then for only you and Jimin to get off. It’s much quieter than inside the bus, partially due to you not fingerfucking her anymore. In no time you’re at the door of your house, unlock it, swing open and it slams shut. Simultaneously Jimin hops on you and dive into your mouth with hers. You stumble through to your bedroom, toss her on the bed, swiftly undo your belt and pants with your boxers, let your already hard dick spring out but don't let it feel the air as it vanishes into Jimin’s waiting pussy right away.

No one speaks a word. No one can, to be fair. You two are merely inches away from dying, too impatient to wait another second. And there you let Jimin approach death a bit closer by holding her neck around, a perfect necklace for her, and straining your hand. Jimin’s mouth is open, difficulty in breathing so visible, face reddening but there’s still her hunger in it; she grins. Her smile is so cruel, violent, so evil yet joyful, as if she’s the victimizer and you’re the victim.

“Please, baby… Kill me. Fucking choke me to death, please, choke me and kill me-fuck!” You make her scream when you slap her tits, as if you were angry at her, but you’re the opposite—you love her so much that you just want to abuse her, to her liking, just like right now. All her sensations seem to evaporate as her eyes roll back and her hands drop to her sides spiritlessly: or, airlessly. You let her go, not wanting to actually kill her.

With a giant inhale Jimin returns from the border of unconsciousness. Her hands travel from her own tits, your hands, and soon back to the sheets, still wandering in need for anything to release the tension. So you pin down her wrists and pace up your thrusts.

“Fuck, Jimin. Don’t tempt me. You make me really want to fuck you dead.” You’re saying it right on her face, which enables her to feel that you mean it. There she tries to kiss your lips, but you pull back with agility, instead covering her mouth and nose with your palm, again suffocating her to your liking, to your loving, to your abnormal, psychopathic obsession.

“I want to see you struggle for life. I want to see you beg for life. You’ll look so perfect like that.” Jimin screams into your hand, covers it with her saliva and tears. You close in with your other hand groping her tit and your cock hitting everywhere inside her squeezing cunt. Jimin’s eyes widen as her orgasm fades in, muffling “I’m cumming!” Several times on your palm before peaking like never before. Her orgasm never gives her the time to even shut her eyes as they roll into her head. Her scream penetrates your hand over her mouth as it departs on your ears so deliciously.

That’s what psychopaths do, isn’t it? To experience the catharsis washing over your spine and get off with how a person screams, all helpless, with tears, shallow breaths as if soon going to die, or at least pass out. Maybe it’s that she’s making it clear about who you are. Would be a pleasure to embrace it.

And it’s your turn now. You pull out, escaping Jimin’s spent pussy with quite an amount of her squirt, leaving her all trembling and arching. There’s a layer of sweat all over her body and it makes it look like a scene from any pornography. Jimin doesn’t move a bit-only her chest is heavily healing up and down, even after you flip her upside down.

You tease her asshole with your middle finger and when she senses it enter she helps you by spreading her cheeks for deeper insertion. No resistance in and out of her ass. Every curl inside her ass makes Jimin squeeze her own cheeks as a response with a powerless moan. “Mmm, fuck me please… I’m not done yet.” Of course. You grin and prepare your cock for the second entrance as you pull Jimin up on all fours. Her arms give up when you rub your glistening cock on her pussy lips. And her reason gives up when you penetrate her rear hole.

“Ahh-fuck yes!”

“Holy fuck. This is so tight.” Her tightness erases your patience to savor it slowly. You start ruining her ass with the intention of actually destroying it. Jimin frowns, loud moan seeping through the bitten lip, hands curling into fists but arms all powerless on her sides.

“It’s so good, it’s so fucking good…! Don’t stop it baby. Make me cum like a fucking whore…!” Her voice can’t even get louder when her words just melt on the mattress just like her. Her words turn to nothings, eyes squeeze shut, concentrating all her senses to where she’s getting fucked. You feel your eyelids become heavier every single thrust, but the visual pleasure is just too good to give up watching it-her ass up for you to fuck it senseless, narrow waist contrasting her wide hips so aesthetically. The cherry on top is the expressions on her gorgeous face which you can’t quite read. Just like when all colors mixed makes pitch-black, her facial wrinkles and twitches are the perfect mixture of all pleasure, ecstasy that you can’t tell what she’s feeling at this moment.

“Nngh!” Actually, you can. Jimin is orgasming so hard, clear—dirty—liquid pumping out of her empty pussy to flood the mattress. Her ass squeezes your cock too hard for you to move in and out as fast as before without blasting every drop in her climaxing ass hole.

So you park it deep in her contracting hole, stay there, and shut Jimin’s moaning mouth with yours. She doesn’t care—or she doesn't acknowledge—and keeps screaming for her life even after her peak has washed over. A few dozen seconds pass, she calms down to at least breathe regularly when you stand your torso up to resume the session.

“You… You have to cum…” As if she even cares for you instead of her own pleasure. You know she just wants more overwhelming orgasm only you can deliver, and you are no different. There’s something about this body, these tits, the voice, this face, this pussy, this ass; there really is something about Yoo Jimin. Without your knowledge you are humping her like a villain, mad, but with a grin that’s so dangerous that Jimin mirrors. Your hand already made itself home around her neck, a red mark of it pressing hard inevitable, tears rolling down along her side face.

“I’m going to fill you up, Jimin.” And with a sharp inhale you begin wrecking her inside. A gut-rearranging pounding is what her perfect ass deserves and she can’t even open her eyes properly-either one stays closed against her will, rolling up to see that there’s nothing inside her head.

“Fuck! Please, please, please, please… Gah, I’m- Again…!” How impatient. There’s not even a point for you to call a flaw. Immoral, impatient, vulgar, dirty… She’s all too perfect. And you’re sure that’s why you cum so hard, like never before.

A nasty pair of voices fill each other’s brain as you two cum. You lower your body, forehead on hers and eyes on hers, looking through those teary orbs as you feel yourself bursting out gregariously. No words but loud pants bridge your sensations to each other, and until the last spurt you don’t even blink in order to see Jimin go through her own orgasm.

That’s it; it’s been your undesirable sadistic desire that kept you on fire, and when you have saturated it it flips out of your head, making it empty—there hasn’t been anything other than that. When you’re done completely you let Jimin go from your glare, sit on the edge next to her gasping body. Your urge is swept off so cleanly, and you can see how dirty it was by the mess on your bed.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but looking up at the ceiling, not Jimin. You don’t turn your head but can already sense her looking at you. “You’re just so perfect.” Selfishly she doesn’t answer. And you hear the smirk in her words. You make one on your face too, hearing that, stand up, face her and find Jimin overloading your vision with how she gorgeously lies down there, making even all the nasty things complement her perfection.

“I’ll shower. Just don’t fall asleep on the bed. It’s dirty.” You tell Jimin, all helpless and powerless on the bed and panting like she just had the best sex in her life. The lustful girl who was begging for you to kill her is nowhere to be found; instead there’s a weak, short of breath, vulnerable and lithe angelic devil with your cum gushing out of her ass. As if a few more touches and she’d actually evaporate.

In the shower you barely feel the water on your body, so distracted by your own thoughts—your own thoughts but in the grabs of Yu Jimin. The exact same as yesterday, you are showering yourself with your shocked, strange feelings in the shower after sex that simply blew your mind.

It's just that she's too good. Too good to call it a hook-up, too good to make it only an occasional sex. The way she craves your cock, the way she begs for your violence, the way she’s so desperate for extreme orgasms under your hold. It’s the first time for you to smile just by thinking of a girl, especially when you’re such a harsh and rough type of a person even you’d admit. She’d let you hit her. She’d let you choke her, let you fuck her, destroy her—let you love her.

Then the door opens, a small, pale figure of female comes in, walks slowly through the mist of the hot water. Jimin stops in front of you, legs barely holding there, face buried on your chest and her arms locked around your neck to support her lithe body but they barely do. You move a little backward to let her more of the hot water.

As if all the water got into your veins, you feel your heart burn. Just look at her—legs all wobbly, barely standing, too exhausted to even look up at you, her hands at the back of your neck irregularly stroking the back of your head as if signaling she’s at least perceiving things properly. You put a hand on her back and spread the water on it, and that’s when she lifts her head and meets your eyes. 

Weak and lethargic like a candlelight in front of a tsunami, Jimin is barely standing there with low moans whenever her legs wobble and give up. Her arms tighten around your neck as one of yours hug her back so that she doesn’t collapse. Her face is right beneath yours, tilted up to face yours. Those eyes can’t avoid looking at your lips, which is just what you’re doing to her unashamedly.

Your hand climbs up to the back of her head. Regardless of that you and Jimin are exchanging such a strong yet soft, intense yet loving eyelock. It is an atypically genial moment and if you look back at this moment you might throttle yourself. She should know it by now, from the visible, audible changes on you. 

(Maybe you were afraid. Or beyond that. Love was what your fears were afraid of. Doesn’t quite make sense to say that you have fears, but anyways, you didn’t want, nor expect a couple nights to escalate to an actual romance.)

Minutes pass, and pass, and—and pause, when you pull her a bit into your arms and make a soundless, yet seismic kiss. Lips lock. Two pairs of lips open and a pair of tongues make contact, hug each other just like you two. Her hands snake into your hair, your head in her hands and deeper into the kiss. You two have even forgotten to breathe as the liplock continues for what feels like a lifetime, to complete the kiss of your life. When you try to pull back Jimin lunges a bit forward not to break the kiss, and you let your system suffocate a few dozen seconds more. 

“You’re so beautiful, Yu Jimin.” You finally tell her this. Not the literal confession of love but she gets it with the bewitching smile she always wears like nothing. Never been in love, you feel like you’re sent back to childhood, pure and intact, but that feeling is shattered into pieces when her hand finds your hardened cock poking at her belly.��Is that why you’re so hard, baby?” This time, the word ‘baby’ sounds so right with a lip bite of your lover and with a lust-filled grin on you. Her thumb slides on the underside of the tip, almost making you stumble back.

“Yes. Just like you’re always horny because of me.”  With a smirk you turn her around, bend her over so that her hands are on the wall, and put your cock in in one stroke. Jimin helplessly loses all the strength in her legs and falls but you're prudential enough not to let her. It's to the point where she's just hanging from your arms when you kindle the movement. Her skin looks even more satin with the water so you collar her and go on. You can't stop when the biggest impetus is jonesing for it. No choice but to harden the grip on her throat.

Jimin is flaccid on the wall, fingers fumbling on and desperately digging themselves on it with her head facing down. You are never going to unbind her until she falls into a stupor. “Baby I… I fucking love it so deep…! Use me just like that…” She can't let it out loud and soon loses all voice, raises her head, brings yours right beside hers and kisses you. And a feeling that this is the requital for your disclosure makes it compulsory to reciprocate it poignantly. Her hand guides one of yours to her tits, pushes it hard on it to make you squeeze them and soon the convulsions agitate through her body. Her orgasmic screams reverberate through your throat, which is also moaning out of the pleasure congesting your mind. 

When the kiss breaks her yelps stifle the smacking and squelching. You have no idea if it’s your heartiness or just overstimulation from before the shower, but her voice sounds so giddy she might just hit the floor all limp. The burgeoning pleasure conglomerates into a derogated vertigo, the unbearable sensations stack up in your spines and Jimin’s wringing walls really doesn’t help you push it down. Her eyes tell you—because her mouth can’t right now—she’s only a couple thrusts away from coming undone, tantamount to what’s threatening to blow your mind, break down your nerves.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming…!” A tautology that is so understandable. You help her, add to the pleasure by choking her. Her moans permeate to your hand through her throat and the foul secretion of her orgasm flows down her legs with the water pelting down on your bodies. Jimin fumbles on the wall with her fingers, too herring-gutted to digest the deray.

“Jimin. Yu Jimin. I’m coming too-fuck…!” When Jimin hears her name she hums, and when she feels the warmth coat her walls she buckles, arches her back to beckon your lips and jockeys her tongue between them. In less than a minute however she pulls back, due to lack of air, because of your chokehold, and pants in your face, with a pejorative smile, but no sign of mannerism—you all know, that smile that follows after an exquisite sex—her sheer feelings carved in it, and you willingly mirror it as a beck of mutuality.

******

A rather huge thing is settled. Sitting on the edge of the bed together, with a cigarette between your fingers for each, you recount your history: the reason you moved, your personality, your sex life being like this. All of them, however, converge to her, Yu Jimin, weirdly enough for you who just can’t concede any feelings involved, which sounds like a monolithic psychopath which actually might be who you are.

Well, a little bit of romance couldn’t kill, could it? You think, lying next to Jimin and slowly closing your eyes to fall-

“You haven’t said it yet.”

“Say what?”

“You only said I’m beautiful.”

“And?”

“I know there’s something more. You know there’s something more.”

There you fail to hold out the chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re-“

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be shy about it,”

Jimin mischievously giggles. You know you can’t just laugh it off, and you won’t. That intricate feeling that tickles, but is not transient.

With a somnolent voice, you placidly say, like a tagline of a tragedy—or a comedy.

“Love you, Jimin.”

Her grin infiltrates her words hearing it.

“That’s it, my boy. Love you too.”

******

[mrrharper]

Gamer Night

Ari and Mike were laying on Ari’s bed, bored out of their minds. After getting lunch at one of their favorite spots and taking a long walk through the city in the still hot September sun, they were exhausted. After coming back to Ari’s house they fell on the bed and laid there for about an hour. Thankfully no one else was home, which was not a given. Both guys were broke college students who benefited from their family homes being close to their campus. Mike was an only child, but Ari had a nosy younger brother who was set on disturbing his brother’s relationship every chance he got. Fortunately he was away on a school trip and Ari’s parents left for a few days to visit their office in New York, leaving their oldest son home alone.

Mike slowly turned on the bed and looked at his boyfriend, then groaned quietly.

“God, I need to change my position” he slowly forced his body into a sitting position, balancing on the edge of the bed. “It’s not dark outside yet, we need something to pass the time and laying on the bed won’t cut it for me, I’m afraid.” Ari looked at him and stood up next to the bed. He had to admit Mike looked hot int hat moment, his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his flat stomach and barely visible abs. 

“Sure.” Ari grinned at his boyfriend and grabbed his arm, then pulled to get him standing. “Any ideas?”

“It’s your house, you need to come up with something.” Mike responded, then yawned.

“Sure.” This time Ari’s response was less enthusiastic. He left his bedroom and stood in the middle of the corridor, thinking. “We could cook something?” He shouted back towards his bedroom.

“We’ll burn the kitchen before we make a single edible thing and you know that.” A reply quickly came back.

“Oh, don’t you dare insinuate such things about me. I’m perfectly capable of doing stuff in the kitchen.” Ari rolled his eyes. “I dunno…” His eyes wandered to the entrance to his brother’s room, the door slightly ajar. This gave him an idea. “Hey, you wanna play something on Jason’s PS5?”

“Your brother has a PS5?” Mike stuck his head out of the bedroom he was still in, clearly interested. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Ari smirked in response and opened the door to his brother’s room, letting Mike inside.

“Holy shit” He heard Mike’s reaction instantly “What a setup!”

“Yeah.” Ari entered the room and saw his boyfriend amazed at Jason’s gaming setup - a few consoles, a gaming PC covered in LEDs, all connected to a giant TV hanging from the wall opposite the bed. “The perks of having your parents work in finance, I guess.”

Mike, with his mouth still basically on the floor, moved to the side and looked at Jason’s giant games collection. “That’s… a shit tome of games, it’s insane.”

“That’s the reason he basically never leaves this room” Ari walked up behind Mike and put his chin on his partner’s shoulder. “You see anything interesting? Cause I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

“It seems your brother is a big fan of COD.”

“Of what?” Ari groaned “I need to put up a sign at the entrance - no gaming slang in this house.”

“Call of Duty. Your brother is a big fan of Call Of Duty.” Mike laughed “At least, I assume he is, cause he has a whole shelf filled only with every edition of COD there is.” He pointed and the shelf close to the floor and Ari had to agree with Mike. It was all Call Of Duty. While he was distracted, looking at hall the game boxes, Mike bent down and Ari, still leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder, lost balance and almost fell down.

“Hey, watch out, gamer boy!” He said after he sat on the floor to be on the same level as Mike, who only laughed and patted Ari on the head.

“You’re gonna be fine” he said and picked up one of the games form the collection. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“This” Mike put the box in front of Ari’s eyes “I don’t recognize this one.”

“Call Of Duty: Cyber Warfare II” Ari read the title on the box aloud. “Eh, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Yeah, isn’t that exciting? Your brother has somehow got access to a brand new, possibly unreleased game. And we can play it right now!” Mike was clearly excited and he quickly got up to the console and put the in the game disc.

“Wow, this thing still uses discs?” Ari commented as he sat down on Jason’s bed, which also functioned as a couch.

“I guess so.” Mike joined Ari on the bed, two controllers in his hands. He handed one to his boyfriend and waited for the game to load.

“Didn’t expect to spend the evening learning all about your secret gamer lifestyle” Ari laughed.

“I mean… it’s not like I’m a fanatic or anything, but games allow me to relax form time to time.”

“Sure thing Mr. Gamer, now tell me what to do.” Ari waved his controlled in the direction of the TV, where the starting menu was displayed.

“Yeah, I think we should start with the tutorial first. Get you used to the controls and stuff.” Mike chose the appropriate option and they waited for the training stage to load.

They spend the next few hours in front of the TV, Mike trying to teach Ari the basics of playing a shooter with a controller. It didn’t go terribly and after a while both were ready to move on front eh tutorial, so they played a couple stages front he campaign and even tried to get into an online match, but the servers were not working, which made sense - the game was most likely a special pre-release copy and the infrastructure was not yet ready.

Both guys ended up falling asleep, first Ari after he put his head on Mike’s lap “for just a moment”, with his boyfriend following not long after. They slept while the game was still on, the glare from the TV not disturbing them in any way.

Ari opened his eyes. Then he closed them again. Something was not right. He blinked a couple of times. Where was he? Certainly not in his brother’s bedroom where he was sure he fell asleep. He was… what was this place? He didn’t recognize it, and it seemed like his eyes were playing with him because every object seemed to have this weird sort of texture. He looked around. It was some kind of deserted area, a forest in the distance and a bunch of old buildings and car wrecks in front of him. What the fuck was— Oh god! Wasn’t this the tutorial stage format he game he played with Mike? Ari turned around to make sure. Yeah, this was the exact same place!

What was happening? Why did it seem like he was transported into the game world? And what did he have to do to wake up form this bizarre dream? Ari looked down and sure enough, he was wearing full combat gear that he recognized form when he was playing the game with Mike. 

He started walking around the area, wanting to make absolutely sure this was indeed the tutorial stage. And all signs pointed to one answer - yes. Walking itself felt weird, not only because his body didn’t feel quite “right”, but also because this avatar was higher that Ari was. And bulkier, the avatar was certainly bulkier. Ari stopped for a moment and looked at his new body again. He put his arm in a flexing position and his eyes widened as he saw the bulky muscle moving under the uniform.

Ari was suddenly transported to a different side of the building. He wanted to move and continue his exploration, but he couldn’t. His body was stuck in some weird idling loop, moving the weight of his body form one leg to another, and checking on the rifle he was holding once in a while. It was hell, not being able to control his own body, instead he was stuck looking into the distance.

After god knows how long, something happened. Another avatar appeared in front of him. It was another soldier, but with visibly less gear than Ari. The other character looked around. Ari tried to say something to get his attention, but he wasn’t able to. He then realized there was a tag above the other avatar’s head. “Player”. Oh shit. Ari tried to look up, to see if he also had a tag above his head, but again - he could not move, stuck in that stupid animation loop.

The player slowly walked closer to him and suddenly Ari’s body moved to a different position and he felt his mouth moving.

“Come on, rookie. You gotta move. We have to take that target!” This was not his voice. It was low and rugged, nothing like Ari’s highish pitch. The player’s avatar nodded and started moving towards the building. After a moment Ari’s body started moving as well, turning around and walking behind the player. When they both entered the building Ari’s hands put his rifle close to his face and pointed it forward, constantly scanning the space around him. It didn’t take long for Ari to realize that he was the NPC that was leading players through the first tutorial stage. 

Mike slowly opened his eyes with a loud yawn. He then stretched his arms, which felt weirdly sore. He thought for a moment why would that be. Oh right, he did an evening workout yesterday. Huhuhuhuh, he was suck a dumbass sometimes. He raised his arm and flexed his beefy biceps, because why the hell not, he was a fuckin' hot brah. He then sniffed his pits. Damn, he reeked. He must have forgotten to get a shower. That scenario made more sense when Mike realized that the TV was turned on, with the main menu of one of the Call of Duty games was on screen. Mike chuckled and looked around for the controller. He must have decided to try out the new game only to fall asleep before he even got to the first stage. 

With the controller now back in his hand Mike decided to shower later and choose the “New Game” option in the menu. A character creator appeared in front of him, but Mike didn’t care about that stuff, he only wanted to shoot some bad guys, so he didn’t change anything in the avatar that appeared on the screen, eager to just play.

Finally, he was transported to the first real stage of the game. He groaned when he saw the words “Tutorial Stage” appear on the screen, but then shrugged and started playing. An NPC was running alongside him, sometimes giving him basic advice about how to use his weapon, how to sneak, how to change rifles. It was all stuff Mike knew form years of playing shooters like this one, so he ignored the one-liners form the gruff soldier and he quickly captured the target and moved on to the next map, quickly forgetting about the boring-ass tutorial mission.

Ari reached the end of the tutorial stage and turned towards the player. This took way less time than Ari remember it took him and Mike to get through this stage.

“Good job, recruit. You’re ready for the next mission.” Ari, or rather the NPC that Ari now inhabited, growled at the player. The other avatar then froze and disappeared quickly after, probably having been teleported to the next stage. Ari meanwhile was now alone in the ruins, but he regained control over his body. He used this opportunity to explore his new form. He was wearing full camo, a tactical vest with a ton of gear attached to it, a radio antenna sticking out next to his arm. He was holding a rifle and had access to a handgun, that stayed in a holster attached to his leg. But Ari focused most on the bulk that he was now carrying. Having been a proud twink before all… this, it was a change to now inhabit the body of a ripped soldier. He very quickly got used to it though and found himself flexing his various newly acquired muscles, loving the way his uniform bulged as me moved his arms and legs.

Suddenly, Ari froze and was then transported back to the beginning of the map but he saw no player avatar next to him. He was once again stuck in an animation loop, this time a mix of checking on his gun, looking around and flexing his arm. Though as time passed and there were no players in sight, Ari began to worry that maybe something went wrong. Maybe the game glitched and he would be stuck in this spot forever.

Then he hears a weird, robotic voice. Debugging algorithm activated. He didn't know wiat direction it was coming from… or maybe it was inside his head? He couldn’t say for sure.

His body suddenly froze in the middle of an idling animation, his arms stuck holding his rifle in front of him. Ari tried to move, but he was unable to. He couldn’t speak, move even one finger or blink. What the fuck was going on?

Then he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head as if someone injected a needle inside his skull. It felt terrible, but he had no way of stopping it. He was now at the mercy of the game.

As he waited for something to happen he realized that his mind became awfully quiet. No random thoughts about his jacked arms, no desperate planning on how to escape this nightmare, nothing. He was just standing, waiting for something to happen. This alarmed him, but before his anxiety could escalate, the voice spoke again. Operator TR#001067 requires additional reconditioning. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was the voice talking to him? Ari had no idea what was happening and… wait.

Wait wait wait.

He suddenly realized he couldn’t remember his name. How the fuck could this be? He was… his name was… he…

Operator TR#001067. That was his name. But was it? It didn’t sound like—

Operator TR#001067. Yeah, that was certainly his name. His ID number was right there.

His mind was then flooded with clear memories of countless different scenarios for the tutorial stage, every possible player choice now ingrained in his head. At the same time, his memories of everything that happened before, of his family, his house, Mike, it disappeared behind a thick fog. He still felt like he was not where he was supposed to be but—

Of course he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was... he was... it was.. Yes, it was—

Another player spawned next to Operator TF#001067, activating its dialog. The NPC turned around and faced the newcomer.

“Come on, rookie. You gotta move. We have to take that target!”

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Meetings On Window Sills

masterlist

note: I fucking love 60s-70s music so there's a lot of it mentioned, and also remus is a full blown music nerd so why would i not make them bond over music?? also this was inspired by 2007s Jump In! starring my first crush: corbin bleu lol

warnings: didn't edit (don't care), little tiny bit of angst between remus and his dad, smoking, remus having back problems since 11 and a city boy, reader has hair long enough to put in a claw clip

word count: 3.8 k

♡ summary: Many don't know that during summer, Remus goes home to a muggle girl, and he spends more time on his fire escape than in his room some days

♡ Remus Lupin x fem!muggle!reader

request ✗

1971

He’d known her his whole life, well since he was 6 months old. Their mums had both gone to the same ‘mommy and me’ class and hit it off when they both took a smoke break. Since then their mums had noticed they didn’t have much in common and grew apart, not after buying apartments in the same building.

Remus stretched his back, hands on his waist while leaning back, just having done all his folding, getting ready to organize in his trunk. As he stood from the small single bed in the corner he heard the soft hum of music coming from outside, the young boy lifted his widow, needing much more force than when it was made. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” 

Remus looks to her widow, seeing the record player playing on her desk while she reads, not seeming to be doing a whole lot of that though. From his view it looks to be Little Women, which he had read and which he would never tell her, but he had been bored on a visit to his grandparents before they died and that was the only book in his moms childhood room, so he read it and enjoyed it enough to finish and not have much of a critic.

“You always sing that song much louder than the rest.” 

His sudden voice caused the girl to jump in her seat, putting the book down and turning down the record she looked at to him, slightly embarrassed at him catching her. 

“It’s my favourite.” She said moving to sit on her window seat. Remus of course noticed this as a sign that she wanted to continue the conversation, he also noticed the way she played with the bottom button of her cardigan. The boy exited his window onto the fire escape to sit on the window sill.

“It’s The Beatles?” “Yeah, my mum got it for me for Christmas last year. Along with George Harrison’s solo album, ‘cause he’s my favourite Beatle- he actually wrote the song I was singing.” She knew she went on a little too long but Remus wouldn’t stop her, that was the type of person he was, kind hearted. When he listened to her, he really listened, he heard every word and took it in.

“Because he wrote your favourite song?” “Not just that, but I guess that’s where it started then I looked through all my albums and all my favourite songs he wrote.” She briefly pointed behind her and he saw the self of records behind her.

“What ones?” He asked, getting more comfortable by leaning his back on one side of the window frame.

“Umm, I’m happy just to dance with you, and of course here comes the sun.” “That’s me mum's favourite, tells me every time it’s on the radio.” 

The conversation stalls, to avoid awkward stares Remus looks down to the street and watches a man with a yellow jacket cross the street, it glowing in the yellow street lights. His stare only breaks when he hears her voice ask, “What’re you packing for?”

“Oh- That..” Her brows furrow at the nervous tone, he wasn’t sure how to tell her, it wasn’t like they were best friends, they talked once in a while like how they are now and would see eachother at school, “I wasn’t sure how to tell people, I’m going to a different school next year.” “Where?” “It’s a boarding school up in Scotland.” “Why are they making you go?” 

Remus would be lying to say that didn’t surprise him, she sounded like she would miss him a little more than he thought she would, and that deeply confused him.

“My father went so-” It’s interesting how much truth he could say while withholding the biggest piece of information from her.

“That sucks. Aren’t you going to miss your friends.” “I never had many friends.” Overstatement. He had no friends, never really did, kids at school made fun of his scars, or for being a nerd, or for having second hand clothes that his mother still had to sew to be wearable; take your pick really. 

“Not many people like me.” “I like you.” Remus’s head lifted from its stare at his swinging legs, “As- as a friend of course.” “Of course, I like you as a friend too.” 

-

1973 

As soon as he walked through the door, Remus set on the way to his window, leaving his trunk at the door. 

“Hun! Where’re you going so fast?” His mum asked, placing the keys in the bowl by the door, and putting her hands on her hips. His father made his way past her to the kitchen.

“I missed my room!” He yelled, never slowing down the hall. Once they believed he was out of ear shot, he heard his father say, “He wants to see Jen’s girl.” 

As he got closer to her window he saw the girls laying on her back legs up resting on the wall while she read. Her head snapped to the window after the first knock, a large grin making its way to her face. She rolled off her bed and opened the window for him and he heard the tune of Bowie flowing through the room.

She crawled half out the window to hug him, her arms going around his neck and he held her back, his hands felt warm, his embrace felt safe. He wore a thin jumper that felt soft on her skin.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” “Me too.” They say, pulling back and getting comfortable on the window sill. She was still smiling at him, and him at her, before Remus felt he had to look away or he would explode. He took the moment to look at her room and it had changed quite a bit since last summer; bed against a new wall, something she did when she felt she needed a change. He noticed her vinyl collection had grown.

“You finally got Ziggy Stardust!” “Oh yeah!” She jumped off the ledge they sat on and made her way to put it on. 

“I went with some friends to London and we got to go to a huge record shop. Remus you wouldn’t believe the stuff they had there- they had Bob Dylan’s first album so my collection of his is complete.” “Brilliant.” Remus sat down on her window seat bench and grabbed the album from her shelf to get a closer look. With the Bowie record set up, she nudged the volume dial up before returning next to the boy. She hit his leg to get his attention, “Listen to this first one it’s my favourite.” 

He put the Bob Dylan album down to give his full attention to the music. 

Many hours later, the two were still perfectly content listening to album after album, pausing their conversation when a particularly good verse came. They were now on the floor of her room, the girl laid out on her carpet flooring, looking just as carefree and stunning as ever. 

“Joni next?” She said as the album playing came to a close, before he could respond they heard a knock on the window, it was his dad.

“Bit late, innit? ‘S past one, Remus.” “Sorry, Mr. Lupin, we lost track of time.” “‘S alright, dear, but come to bed Remus.” “Okay.” 

His father went back through the window and waited. Remus stood the floor and stretched his back, the girl stood as well, “Tomorrow?” “Yeah.” “G’night, Rem.” “G’night.” 

He joined his dad out on the fire escape as they made their way back to his room, once they got inside and closed the window his father broke the silence. “I know you like that girl, but you’ve ‘ot to keep her out of this world, especially with what you are.” 

And just like, an otherwise perfect night, ruined by one comment by his father. 

“I know.” “Alright. G’night, son.” The door shut behind him, and when he heard that click he let the tear drop.

He knew from his friends that  some people don’t care, they found out this past school year and he still hasn’t told his parents that fact. But for all his life he’s heard otherwise, and he can’t help but think one day the boy’s will come to their senses and leave him all alone again. Y/n though, a muggle, if he ever told her he can imagine that  best case scenario is him having to use obliviate.

-

1975 

Remus retreated to his room after dinner, wanting to sleep or read or something that didn’t involve more people, it had been a long day even before he got on the train home for the summer. As he grabbed the book on his desk he saw a trail of smoke leading to a certain girl’s bedroom, he leaned forward to see her with her glasses on, smoking a cigarette, and wearing mismatching pajamas.

He lifted the window with ease, causing the girl to flick her eyes back to him, “You're back.” “Same time every year.” Both shared a look with smiles on their faces, the girl broke eye contact to grab her pack of cigarettes, and overing him with one.

“Yeah.” He climbs out the window and comes to now sit on her window sill and takes his own cigarette, she grabs the light from behind her and he lets her light his. Her fingertips brushing against his check as she blocks the blooming flame from the soft summer breeze.

He takes the chance to gaze at her lips, wrapped around the cigarette, residue of lipstick left behind, a soft red. She never needed the makeup, but sometimes if he woke up early he could watch her put it on. A moment that he found she looked the most beautiful, practiced movements, mouthing the words to whatever song she was listening to, and the funny faces she made made him smile. 

“I missed you.” “Yeah?” A smile creeped on his face as he looked into her eyes. “Yeah.” “I missed you too. I always do.”

The girl looks away, a smile on her face, unaware that Remus continues his stare looking from her eyes to her smile and the way her hair falls in its clip. She wore a thin olive green tank top, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra so he moved his eyes to the clouds she was looking at. 

“How’re your friends?” Sometimes she felt as though she knew the boys, with how much Remus talked about them, her mind began to wonder if they knew as much about her as she knew about them.

“They’re just the same pricks they’ve always been.” “James got any farther with Lily?” She muttered, flicking off her cigarette and taking another puff, she looked so beautiful and natural. She had glasses that fell down her nose, messy hair that she liked that way, and a laugh like no other.

“Lils would like me to say ‘no’, but I think she likes him a lot more than she cares to share.” “That’s the way it always goes.” She trailed off, to look at him and he was already looking at her.

It was second year Remus became friends with Lily, they were paired up for a project together and became close. At first she was jealous of the girl, she felt that Lily was going to take her spot in Remus’ life, it weirdly enough was when she heard of James’ fondness for the ginger girl that she no longer worried. Well that and the fact that Remus never did anything to insinuate that he was any less friends with her because of Lily. 

And what she didn’t know was that half of the time he was with Lily, he ended up bringing up her.

-

1977 

Y/n was waiting all day for Remus to come home, she never left her room the whole day in waiting. Looking to his window every ten minutes in hope she would see her lanky boy crawling out his window.

It was late in the evening when she came back from the bathroom and immediately went to check, she almost didn’t believe her eyes when she saw the lamp beside his bed on. The girl shrugged on her cardigan that was lying across her desk chair, and crawled out the window.

Remus had just gotten back from a nice dinner with his parents, this was his last summer as a kid and they wanted to make it special from the beginning, especially since next week he was going to spend a month at the Potter’s. 

He was interrupted from changing by a knock on his window, he turned on his heels to see the girl he’s been waiting all year to see. Her smile lights up his face, she looks away and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he isn’t wearing a shirt, clad in nothing but pajama pants gifted to him by Peter. He quickly slips on a jumper before he opens the window and she stumbles into his room. 

“Hey.” “Hi.” They each silently take this moment to get a look at eachother, the girl noticed that she could see that scar on his chest end just where his jumper begins, it’s surprising that she could know him since they were babies yet doesn’t know when he got that scar. To be honest she never asked about them, she could tell he was insecure about the way he looked, though in her mind there was no need to be.

During this Remus is having his own thoughts about her looks, she was wearing that cardigan she’s had since she was ten, underneath was a tank top like she commonly wore. Her hair was up in a clip, the same ones Mary always wore, small pieces of hair falling out. She was beautiful.

“Urm.. How have you been?” The boy asked justering for her to sit as he took a seat on his bed. She joined him, leaning against the wall and pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her cardigan pocket. 

“Good, yeah I’m good. You?” She replied, feeling around her pockets, “No lighter.” He stood from the bed and went to his dresser drawer, retrieving the pink lighter and throwing it to the girl, she caught it with ease yet didn’t begin to light.

“Is this the lighter I gave you?” 

When they were fifteen, they first smoked weed together, at a nearby park in order to not get caught by their parents. And Y/n, high, had given Remus her lighter when they had climbed back up the fire escape to their windows and told him, “This is my favourite lighter. I don’t know why? I think ‘cause it’s pink, so that means it’s lucky- ‘cause the lighter is lucky it’s pink and not some boring lighter like yours- No, you know what Remus? You should take this one, ‘cause it’s luckier and prettier than yours. But keep it safe, it’s my favourite.” 

That night Remus put it in his sock drawer to keep safe, he never wanted to use it or worse lose it, so he kept it safe just as she asked.

“Um, yeah.” He mumbled, a little embarrassed at the amount of sentiment he put into that cheap lighter. 

“You kept it?” “Yeah, you told me to.” 

He becomes even more embarrassed when she chuckles. She looks down at it in her hands, her chuckle dying down and smile slips. There's a moment of silence as Remus doesn’t know what to say so he just returns to his spot on the bed next to her. She doesn’t look up at him still as she asks, “Why did you keep it?” 

Truthfully Remus does know why he kept it, it was just because she gave it to him, but if that sounds lame in his head it will most definitely sound lame if he says it to the girl he likes, no love, he’s always known he loved her. So once again he’ll chicken out and doesn’t respond.

She waits for his answer, and when it never comes, “Is it.. For the reason I think?” She boldly asks, looking at the side of his face as he has not looked away from the spot on the wall in front of them. 

Another moment, and the beautiful girl tries to get his attention by leaning her face in his line of vision. His gaze is unnerved, he’s too consumed by the thoughts running in his mind, until they all go silent.

She presses a kiss to the side of his mouth and says, “I like you too.”

Head snaps to look at her, eye to eye, nose to nose, and finally lips to lips as Remus presses a hard kiss right on her lips. She immediately begins kissing back, and trying to take control but to her surprise Remus is a lot more comfortable in his actions now and is the one leading the kiss and pushing his tongue between her soft lips, which she gladly accepts.

The girl trails her hand up the inside of his thigh before skipping up to hold his jaw, Remus at the same time grabs her hips and squeezes, causing Y/n to swing one leg over his and straddle the boy’s lap. Her hands fall from his jaw, to his neck, to his chest and pushes him away lightly.

Both slowly allow their eyes to open and look at eachother, smiles mirroring each other. 

“So-” “Boyfriend girlfriend?” “Yeah, that’s cool.”

-

1977

“I’ll get the Bowie album, then we can listen to it when you get back.” “When’s it coming out?” “October.”

The girl replied, her head lying on his bicep as she played with his hand, drawing shapes and tracing his veins. In his other hand, resting on her stomach, Remus held the book he and Lily decided to read over the break for their informal book club. 

Y/n thought about asking what she’s been wanting to ask since they’ve gotten together, “Are you going to come home for Christmas?” The last time he did was fifth year, last year he had gone to his friend James’ house. And from what he told her, he had the best time, so you can see she was a little worried he would do that again and she wouldn’t get to see her boyfriend till next summer.

What she didn’t know was that Remus was hoping to avoid this at any cost, it was a full moon this christmas. So even if he did come home, he wouldn’t even get to see her much.

“I haven’t thought about it.” “Oh.” Damn, wrong thing to say. She thought about it. She asked him. She wanted him there.

“I mean- I would love to come home and see you! I just- I don’t know if-” “What?” 

She saw the hurt in his face, she knew whatever he was thinking about he was trying to push down and resist it, she sat up and sat crisscrossed facing him. She leaned down and grabbed his hands, gently taking the book out of his hands and marking the page by folding the corner.

“What’s wrong, Remus?... You can tell me.” “That’s just it- I can’t, or rather I shouldn’t.” “Okay, now I’m confused.” She scoffed, shaking her head and standing up to get some space, “What can you not tell me. I tell you everything.” 

Remus sat up, leaning against the wall on his bed, head in his hands, thinking about everything. Everything he ‘couldn’t’ tell her, if he couldn’t trust her he believed he couldn’t trust anyone ever again.

“Okay, you have to believe me though, and it’s going to sound like I’ve gone mad. So just remember that I know how absolutely insane I sound, and that I’m still telling you because I trust you. More than anyone.” Met with slight hesitance, Y/n replies, “Okay.”

“I’m a wizard.” He waits for the big reaction that never comes, he stares at the confused face of his girlfriend before he stands and goes to his bottom desk drawer and grabs his wand.

“Levioso.” The boy says, pointing at his record player and directing it as it levitates, before ultimately placing it back in the same spot on his dresser. When he looked back at the girl, her jaw opened in shock. 

“Holy fucking SHIT!... That just- in air! You are!” “A wizard? Yes.” “How? I mean- you- what?” 

Remus came to her side, guiding her to sit with him on his bed, “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve got more.” “MORE?” She looked towards him, concerned for what was to come.

“Yes. Okay, I’m also a werewolf.” “If I didn’t know you, or see that pissing record player float- God, I’d think you were too far gone.” Her words were a relief, causing Remus to chuckle, but truthfully a weight lifted off his chest, to have the most important person in his life to not judge him, “You have no idea how much that means to me- I’m the same Remus you knew, you just know everything now.” 

-

1977

“So I werewolves are real, what about vampires?” “Yes.” “What?! Am I going to have to worry about them?” “Don’t visit Romania.” “That’s not funny.”

They laid together, well Remus laid done while his girl moved every few moments, very excited about the new world she was learning about, at this moment she sat on the boy’s thighs with her legs straddling them on either side.

“What’s your favourite subject in school? For real, now that I know you don’t actually take English.” “Defence against the dark arts.” “That’s a class?” “Yes, a very important one.” He replied, moving his hands up the girl's thighs, from her knees to grasping her hips. He keeps his hands there, squeezing when he feels like it.

“What’s your least favourite?” “Flying. But I haven’t taken that since first year.” “WHY would you hate flying? That’s the dream.” “I don’t like heights.” “But you’re FLYING! Through the air!” “Really? Well, now I’ve got to rethink things.” “Oh, shut up.” 

Remus was laughing now, and he could tell she was trying hard not to. He pulled her down to him, keeping her there with his hands on her back as he attacked her cheek with kisses, “Ah!” 

The small scream falls on deaf ears as Remus continues kissing her cheeks to her jaw and burrows his head to the crook of her neck. He mumbles something she can’t quite hear, but she can just barely make out the word ‘love’. But still continues to fight him off, “Ah! Rem- tickles!” “Don’t care.”

[shotoyami]

Non-conformity

word count: 1.1k

pairing: Scott Sumers + male reader

warnings: none for this one! (unless gay panic is something that needs to be warned?)

genre: fluff

notes: Scott Summers is a bisexual man, that is my own personal headcannon. you cannot tell me that there wasn’t any tension at all between him, Jean, and Logan. I love my silly gay man, he’s just a little cutie patootie. please enjoy this first post of mine here, and I’m starting on my ask/requests as soon as this is posted! <3

additional note, I’ve already edited this post, so please let me know if I missed anything at all!

Scott has always been comfortable with his sexuality. There’s nothing to question, you know? He’s got it all, a pretty girlfriend (who’s becoming questionably close with Logan as of late, but there’s no need to be all possessive. He trusts her), good friends who support him in everything he does, a mentor who cares sincerely about him.

But then, what doesn’t he have? Well, a biological family, for starters. That was gone a long time ago, but it’s nothing to dwell on.

As of late, though, there’s just something different. Something just isn’t right. And he can’t even begin to place a finger on the exact cause of the sudden uneasiness.

Sure, it could just be Jean and her closeness with Logan (damnit Scott, you sound like an obsessive clingy boyfriend–) that’s causing this new feeling, but something tells him it just isn’t that.

No, this is completely different, and it’s so strange that it only seems to happen when–

“Good morning, Scott.” A voice cuts through his thoughts, causing Scott to glance up. There it is again, that funny feeling. He clears his throat, offering a small, sort of awkward smile toward the man in front of him. “Hey- uh…good morning, (y/n). How are you?” He cringes to himself– gosh, he sounded like such a dweeb.

The man dorkily grins back, chuckling at the brunette’s awkwardness, “I’m alright.” He glances back toward someone behind Scott, his grin faltering. Of course, this only makes said brunette more curious, and turns to glance over his shoulder. It’s like a sinking feeling, but is it as bad of a feeling as it should be? Jean is…kissing Logan. In front of everyone. He should be furious, shouting and cursing. But something tells him to be relieved. That he’s free.

“-Scott. Hey, you alright?” He snaps out of his thoughts, looking back at the man he’d been conversing with periously. “Yeah…yeah, I’m alright. I kind of figured that was coming sooner than later.” Scott winces internally, knowing he sounded too nonchalant. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he so happy that Jean had publicly cheated on him and technically ended their relationship all at once? He notices (y/n)’s frown, one all too familiar– it’s one of pity. “Are you sure?” All he can do is nod. What else is there he could possibly say? Normally he’d be devastated, probably sobbing in his room to himself, but this isn’t normal. This isn’t a normal case. Not when all Scott can think about is the man in front of him and how much he wants to see him without that stupid oversized sweater–

Oh. Oh.

The realization slowly dawns upon him, the feeling starting to make more sense. Is he..? No, he can’t be gay. Scott’s only ever dated women. Women love Scott, and Scott loves women. But (y/n)’s a man.

It’s making his head spin– this made no sense, he’s never had any interest in men to this point, what’s different? What changed? Does (y/n) even like men? All of the women love him, so it’s not too far fetched to assume him straight, but in this day and age, isn’t that also offensive?

“Summers.” (y/n)’s voice cuts through his thought’s yet again, the man frowning still, now with his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “Are you hearing me right now? Maybe I should just walk you back to your dorm, I get it, this is a lot.” He gestures back toward the hallway that stretches between the vast amount of dorms within Xavier’s school and Scott finds himself eager to follow.

As they walk, the pair are thrown into a comfortable silence– er, well, comfortable on the outside. It’s awkward internally for Scott, trying to find something to say. How to voice his thoughts without being creepy. “Hey, (y/n)?” The named man hums in response, solidifying the obvious fact that he’s listening, and Scott continues, “Have you ever thought about…I don’t know, sexuality?” Scott cringes at how awkward he sounds, yet again, but he’s surprised to get a thoughtful hum in return. “Yeah, sexuality is weird. People are just so open, and it’s easier to make yourself open to ideas and thoughts, but at the same time, you don’t want to be too vulnerable and end up hurt. It’s a big tug of war that’s always staked against your favor.”

That’s…a rather interesting way to put it. “What about you in particular, (y/n)?” Scott can’t help but want to know more– no, he needs to know more. “Well, the easiest way to put it would be to just call myself queer and move on with it,” he jokes, grinning playfully before sighing as his voice comes down a pitch. “But, in particular, I’d probably label myself bisexual. You know, men and women and such.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Labels suck though. It shouldn’t have to have a name or make you different, everyone just wants to love and be loved equally.”

Scott finds himself melting at the thought, to live in a world where anyone could be anything and do anything– within reason, of course– but even he knows well that it’d never happen. Take all of them being outcast a mutants, for example. “What if I’ve been gay this entire time and never even gave it a thought..?” He mumbles, questioning himself and everything he’s known thus far. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” (y/n)’s response is reassuring, comforting. Scott can’t help it, he grabs (y/n)’s wrist– loosely, of course, in case it made the man uncomfortable. “...(y/n), I…I think you’re my gay awakening.” The man pauses, looking quite bewildered for a moment– to be expected though, this is all very sudden. However, he relaxes a bit afterward, a soft smile haunting his expression. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear from you at all today, Summers. Is this because of Jean, or is this legit? After all, your emotions are going to be pretty heightened after-”

Scott squeezes his hand, silently begging for (y/n) to stop reminding him, for now at least. “No, I’m serious. I guess everything with Jean just really solidified it for me. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy being with her- well, at least until that last part. But something about that never felt right, you know?”

“Is this your corny little gay confession?” (y/n) teases, though he’s being genuine, nont quite making fun of the brunette. Scott’s expression finally relaxes for the first time that day, no longer pensive or distant. 

“...yeah, I think it is.”

[covesdadappreciation]

Hey hey! I loved your Prom one, and now I'm hungry for more! (Sorry not sorry =P). An idea that's been knocking around in my head is, its implied Tam-Tam gets bullied in the later Steps. SO, I would like to see MC getting into a fight after someone makes Tamarack cry, and the Qiu joins in to help because, love rival or no love rival, they ain't lettin' that shit slide.

School Fight

Tamarack x Male Reader (FTM Safe!) Author's note: I’m starting to think you really like the "jealous Qiu, and in love with Tamarack" dynamic… just a feeling. 🎀 CW: A physical fight and mentions of bullying. - I will also warn you that I may have not re-edited this. 1972 words

Ever since MC had met Tamarack, he’s doted on her. If she was a princess, he was her knight, through and through. He was at Tamarack’s defense when Oma and her argued, he was at her side when she felt isolated, he was always paying attention to her face to see if she approved or disapproved certain plans. She is his everything, and even in high school it hasn’t changed much. It certainly isn’t as obvious anymore, nor is he following her around like a lost puppy as much either. With getting older and no longer feeling out-of-place after being the new neighbor, he’s become more independent. Confident, some might say. 

MC began to climb the high school popularity ranks the older he got, along with Qiu (but Qiu wasn’t all that excited about being popular at this point). Though that never let MC feel bigger than Tamarack. Instead he always made sure to make it obvious that they were friends, that he’ll make time for her any day, that she’s just as important as any one of his friends. In a room full of people, he’ll always choose her. 

So when MC decided that he wanted to walk with Tamarack after her after school orchestra practice for the first time, he had a gut-squeezing feeling when he saw her with a small frown and tiny tears at the edges of her eyes. He quickly rushed up to her, but she squeezed her eyes when she noticed MC and smiled, the tears becoming much less notable now.

“Are you okay?” He asked, studying her face worriedly, holding himself from running his hands over the tear trails on her face. She nodded persistently, “Yeah, Orchestra was just stressful today. Rehearsal stuff, it happens.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

MC sighed understandingly, “Well if it’d help, we can go to the Diner and get milkshakes?” Tamarack perked up at the offer, and while her sadness didn’t seem to fully pass, it still made her smile.

As the week continues, MC notices that Tamarack’s been more stressed at the mention of orchestra. She’s anxious in the hallways, as if looking for someone, or trying to be aware of what people are talking about. Of course Tamarack was a little more anxious and awkward, they’re in highschool! It’s kind of a package deal. But it was way out of character for her, this was fear, and that little voice in MC’s head knew that something was wrong. All he needed to know was what the cause was. 

—

MC walked into the auditorium, sitting in the front row as he kept his eyes on Tamarack the whole time as she settled into her seat and pulled out her instrument. Though, nobody really seemed to notice him with the bright lights on them, and if they did, he wasn’t their main focus. They were working on playing music for one of the school musicals, but not even halfway into practice, MC already noticed plenty of red flags.

Two freshmen who sat behind Tammy were being dickheads. Notably one was blonde and the other was brunette. It started out small, but even then it took everything in MC to not get up and tell them to cut it out. Maybe accidentally spill some water on them. Who knows. The two boys went back and forth throughout their instrumental pauses or 10 minute breaks, throwing side-eyes at Tammy while whispering some surely cruel comments about her considering that in response to every whisper, Tamarack seemed to curl more and more into herself. 

MC had kept his eye on them, wishing that Tamarack could notice him and give him a signal on what to do. Scenarios and plans ran through his head, many of them revolving around the idea of revenge. On the other hand, he can hear his ma’s and Tamarack’s voice to calm down, to not get in trouble. The rest of the half hour passes and Tamarack makes her way over to MC, inhaling deeply before crashing her body onto him, pressing her weight against him so that he could hold her closely. 

“Tammy…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there a reason you haven’t told me about those two dickheads?” MC crossed his arms. Of course he wasn’t angry at her, but the fact that those two had the nerve to be mean to the nicest and adorable girl in the whole world. The audacity. 

Tamarack huffs no longer leaning on him, “No! They’re just dumb, and it’s…” she falters, rolling her eyes and no longer making eye contact with MC, “It’s nothing to worry about.” MC glances around and finds the two boys headed out, but not leaving without throwing a judgemental look towards Tamarack. It only made MC’s stomach turn and twist. 

Just say the word, Tam. Put me in the ring, coach.

“If they keep this up, I swear I’ll start a fight”

“Please don’t” Tamarack laughs softly, but they both knew that MC wasn’t strictly joking. MC only makes a small unsatisfied sound, his eyes stuck and glaring at the two boys until they were out of sight. “Earth to MC?” Tamarack waves her hand in front of his face, “Are we still gonna walk to my place?”

MC sighs before taking Tamarack’s cello case, puffing his chest for a quick second before the weight shifted comfortably in his arms,

“MC, you know you don’t have to carry it for me every time-”

“You’ll have to pry this from my cold dead hands if you expect me to let you carry this yourself”

“My hero” Tamarack sighs with a smug look, readjusting MC’s hair so that his hair is back to normal before their walk. 

“My princess” MC grins back.

— 

The week had felt long, as if the school building itself was actively stopping the clock and hoping no one would question it. MC and Tamarack were walking down the halls in their transition period, arm in arm. Chatting away about their next class and hooked together to not lose each other to the crowd was always their excuse.

“Imagine if the crowds sucked her away and I’d never find her again!” MC huffed to Qiu long ago. 

So MC made it clear that he would never let that happen. Nor was he going to let the world see the dust of blush on his cheeks wherever they did cross arms.  

Unfortunately, the two boys from the orchestra had caught onto Tamarack’s presence on their walk down the halls. MC could see the cogs turning in their heads, which was surprising considering that MC thought there was nothing in there anyways. Defeating all logic regardless, there was a non-verbal plan being set in their minds, which made MC tense. 

He felt worse when he stole a quick look over at Tamarack, seeing her understandably more anxious than him, tears welling up in her eyes once more. This time she finally let them fall. 

The two boys pointed and whispered, judging something– and when MC looked at what they were pointing at, it was a part of a bit of high school embarrassment. Tamarack’s backpack was almost wide-open, not enough for everything to fall out. Of course, they were close enough so that you could hear the glimpses of terrible things they decided to say about her. About her intelligence and comments about her appearance. People are starting to look. 

“Guys, can you both just fucking rela-” MC was interrupted by the brunette who passed him, shoulder hitting shoulder, which caught MC off guard. 

Tamarack was quiet now, and a panicked and helpless look was all she could give as the brunette had gone up to her, let her walk away just a bit so that he could reach into her bag, pulling out whatever he could grab. It was her lunch bag. In a quick attempt of playing monkey in the middle, the brunette with the lunch bag tosses it over to the blonde boy, who’s conveniently closer to MC.

As the two boys laugh, the blonde holding the lunch bag makes eye contact with MC, almost as if expecting him to laugh too at this obnoxious act. 

There’s a moment where MC just nods, the situation finally clicking and snapping in his head. 

Almost as if it’s instinct, MC forces his body to slam the kid against the locker which takes everyone off guard. Those who knew MC from elementary especially. He wasn’t lost or trying to fit in anymore like he did back then. He wasn’t hiding behind Tamarack and hoping that everyone stays friends. It almost made MC seem bigger now. 

The blonde was almost too shocked by the reaction, but he recovered and decided that he’d fight back. They both shoved each other around, throwing a punch in there occasionally, the growing crowd of kids gave a lot of space. Phones were out, and people were cheering and commenting. In one moment MC was pinned and being pushed around by his clothes, in another moment MC had the blonde onto the floor, shoving him harshly back down on the ground.

Veronica had pulled Tamarack away while Qiu and Ren struggled against the mob of children to see what was happening. All they had heard was that MC was in a fight. All Qiu fully registered was a blonde boy on the ground, MC trying to pin the boy’s hands away, and a brunette boy about to enter to help his friend, most likely to make the situation worse or make this a 2v1 situation. Qiu quickly ran up to the brunette and redirected him, only shoving him back warningly. 

That’s all Qiu needed to see, and they knew that it probably had something to do with Tamarack. Who else would MC fight like this for?

“Are you gonna keep going?!” MC shouts at the boy, trying to be heard over the multiple kids shouting. The blonde boy kept up with the struggle before finally giving in and knowing that MC wasn’t going to let go of his wrists until they both stopped hurting one another. 

The blonde boy nods persistently, allowing MC to finally get off of him (not without "accidentally nudging this guy on the side a bit" with his foot) and take a couple steps back in case the boy was planning on starting another fight.

Not that there was time for it considering teachers finally reached the situation. The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving only Tamarack, Qiu, MC, and the two boys in that hall with the teachers.. 

—

Fortunately, Tamarack and Qiu didn’t get in much trouble besides whatever their parents and grandparents found to be appropriate. MC on the other hand had a 4 day suspension, and the other two boys had gotten slightly longer and worse punishments than them. MC’s mom wasn’t the happiest at the whole situation, but she also figured deep down something like this would’ve happened. Tamarack’s Opa found the whole thing a lot more amusing than Omi, of course, but they were still somewhat glad the bullying issue was done with too. 

And it wasn’t like Tamarack and MC were banned from seeing each other ever again. Tamarack and Qiu would visit MC after school to bring him homework, and study together. 

At the end of the day, no one bothered to bully or make comments about Tamarack anymore, lest they deal with MC when he comes back. At least MC promised he’d never do it again. Probably.

[itsnevercasual]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

part ii

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

warnings: none really.. not edited.

summary: in which y/n's friends book her an amazing gig, but they don't mention anything about her favorite singer being in attendance.

request: nope!

your friends were more than aware of your obsession with harry styles. it’s not like it was a secret.

so, it only made sense that when you started to sing in bars and cafes — anywhere, really — that you’d always incorporate something of his into it. whether it be a love on tour crewneck, a song of his, a one direction song, or a song about him — you loved to cover style, because.. who didn’t want to strut on a stage to a song everyone knows?

however, you weren’t aware of what they were planning when they somehow booked you in a very prestigious bar.

the dress-code for this bar was strict. your usual get-up of jeans and a crewneck — or jeans and anything, really — was vetoed before you could even ask. so, you searched through the depths and trenches of your closet until you found a black, skin-tight cocktail dress that ended right at your mid-thigh.

“seriously, babe. you know sign of the times inside and out. you’re just psyching yourself out,” one of your friends, melanie, told you.

“i know, but.. still.”

“you doubt yourself too much.”

“so you tell me everyday. now shoo! i’ve gotta be onstage in five.”

you weren’t exactly sure how you got onstage. you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

as you nervously scanned the crowd, you spoke into the mic, “hi.. my name is y/n. uh.. i’ll be singing some songs tonight. i figured since it’s christmas eve, i could sing through a few.. christmas classics or whatever. so.. yeah!”

a few people in the audience laughed at your awkwardness.

you sang through last christmas first, which really boosted your confidence. the audience was very interactive, singing, dancing, and clapping along.

you sang a few other christmas classics. santa baby, let it snow, things like that.

and then.. it was time for the section you very much dreaded. your songs.

“so.. these next few songs are songs that i wrote. they’re.. like.. my babies. so.. please be nice to them,” you laughed.

you nodded to the band. a silent signal that they could start the music.

“when you first told me about her, you said she was thirty. and i just can’t help but think.. you knew it was dirty. and maybe you were just a little sad, but there’s no excuse to lie to me like that. but when you first told me about her, you said she was thirty,” you took a deep breath before belting the chorus, “but she’s only twenty-eight. i’m not even half her age. she probably just had her first high school reunion. you’re probably the first guy she’s ever moved in with. you think that i wanna hate. but you set me up this way. so for my health i’ll be blocking your number, ‘cause you couldn’t wait till i got a bit older.”

the crowd cheered, giving you more confidence as you walked around the stage.

“and sometimes i kinda feel like i wanna forgive. but it never crossed your mind that maybe i’m still a kid. and i’m so used to being the adult. even when you say it’s not your fault. but i’m kinda getting sick and tired of crying. so please stop lying, and lying, and lying. she’s only twenty-eight. i’m not even half her age. she probably just had her first high school reunion. you’re probably the first guy she’s ever moved in with. you think that i wanna hate. but you set me up this way. so for my health i’ll be blocking your number, ‘cause you couldn’t wait till i got a bit older. to tell me she was twenty-eight.”

as the drums and electric guitar got more intense, the lights flashed different colors.

“to tell me she was twenty-eight… what the fuck is twenty-eight? you said she’s mature, so that makes it okay. and you said she likes sports, so that makes it okay. and she’s actually pretty, so that makes it okay. but there’s nothing you can say that makes twenty-eight okay.. to me.”

the crowd cheered as you lowered the mic. a smile overtook your face as you laughed.

you walked back over to the mic stand, putting the mic in the slot as a slow, piano-ballad type song started. the lights switched to a soft white.

“they’re always charismatic. and they’ll turn up the charm. their words do something magic, saying no is really hard. they’re over-generous, you’ll never pay the bills. they’ll fall in love in seconds. die for you, or probably kill. ooh. and after six months, you’ll feel really stupid. ooh. i promise that it’s not your fault you fell for it,” you shook your head, keeping your eyes closed as you sang, “‘cause.. one little fight breaks into war. feels like you’re dying on the bathroom floor. you’ll make an excuse. you’ll say that it’s you. and the mirror’s telling you it’s true. won’t leave, can’t stay. how much are you gonna take? ‘cause you’ll always take the blame. it feels like shit, but that’s just how it is. when you love a narcissist. so if you’re feeling crazy.. i wouldn’t be surprised. the only thing they’re good at’s knowing how to gaslight. then make you feel like the most beautiful in the world. while they’re sleeping with another girl. ooh. and after six months, you’ll feel really stupid. ooh. i promise that it’s not your fault you fell for it, ‘cause.. one little fight breaks into war. feels like you’re dying on the bathroom floor. you’ll make an excuse. you’ll say that it’s you. and the mirror’s telling you it’s true. won’t leave, can’t stay. how much are you gonna take? ‘cause you’ll always take the blame. it feels like shit, but that’s just how it is. ‘cause i felt like shit. so i know how it is. when you love a narcissist.”

the crowd cheered as it went straight into another song.

“when you’d yell, i would stay quiet. you never noticed i was quiet. i was taught that speaking up was talking back. always first to say, ‘i’m sorry’, ‘cause i wanted you to like me. and i thought that’s what it took to make it last. it’s a lose, lose. that i don’t choose. but you don’t always choose the ones you love. i shouldn’t have to be the bigger person. how come i have to break to keep us working? it’s always up to me, even though it shouldn’t be. i’ll take the blame the way you want me to. ‘cause that’s what i do for you. i was half of this dynamic. i was stable, you were manic. without you or with you comes with a cost. i got used to the excuses and emotional abuses. we kept moving the lines we never crossed. it’s a lose, lose that i don’t choose. but you don’t always choose the ones you love. shouldn’t have to be the bigger person. how come i have to break to keep us working? it’s always up to me, even though it shouldn’t be. i’ll take the blame the way you want me to. ‘cause that’s what i do for you. i always think it’s over, but it never really is. but i can’t get the closure when you’re like this. can we switch? maybe this time you’ll be the bigger person. ‘cause i’m getting tired of carrying all your burden. it should be up to you, but you won’t admit the truth, oh-oh. shouldn’t have to be the bigger person. how come i have to break to keep us working? it’s always up to me, even though it shouldn’t be. i’ll take the blame the way you want me to. ‘cause that’s what i do for you.”

the crowd cheered again.

“thank you! we have.. four more songs tonight. this next one is would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.”

a crew member came and slipped an electric guitar around your neck. you quietly thanked them as you cleared your throat and the music started.

“if you would’ve blinked, then i would’ve looked away at the first glance. if you tasted poison, you could’ve spit me out at the first chance. if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? and if i was a child, did it matter? if you got to wash your hands? oh-oh, oh. all i used to do was pray. would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. if you’d never looked my way, i would’ve stayed on my knees. and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at nineteen. and the god honest truth is that the pain was heaven. and now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. memories feel like weapons. and now that i know, i wish you’d left me wondering. if you never touched me, i would’ve gone along with the righteous. if i never blushed, then they could’ve never whispered about this. and if you never saved me from boredom, i could’ve gone on as i was. but, lord, you made me feel important… and then you tried to erase us. oh-oh, oh. you’re a crisis of my faith. would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. if i’d only played it safe, i would’ve stayed on my knees. and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at nineteen. and the god honest truth is that the pain was heaven. and now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. memories feel like weapons. and now that i know, i wish you’d left me wondering. god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be. the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. i regret you all the time. i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign. i regret you all the time…. if clarity’s in death, then why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners, you and i. living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts. give me back my girlhood, it was mine first,” as you held the note, the crowd screamed.

“and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil. at nineteen. and the god honest truth is that the pain was heaven. and now that i’m grown, i’m scared of ghosts. memories feel like weapons. and now that i know, i wish you’d left me wondering. god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be. the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. i regret you all the time. i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign. i regret you all the time. oh, god rest my soul, i miss who i used to be. the tomb won’t close, stained glass windows in my mind. i regret you all the time. i can’t let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign. i regret you all the time.”

with the final strum of your electric guitar, the crowd stood up to applaud. the crew member switched out the electric guitar for an acoustic one.

“this next one is called ceilings.”

a little bit more applause.

“.. ceilings. plaster. can’t you just make it move faster? lovely to be sitting here with you. you’re kinda cute, but it’s raining. harder. my shoes are now full of water. lovely to be rained on with you. it’s kinda cute but it’s.. so short. then you’re drivin’ me home. and i don’t wanna leave, but i have to go. you kiss me in your car. and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before. before… bedsheets, no clothes. touch me like nobody else does. lovely to just lay here with you. you’re kinda cute and i would say all of this. but i don’t wanna ruin the moment. lovely to sit between comfort and chaos.. but it’s over. then you’re driving me home. and it kinda comes out as i get up to go. you kiss me in your car, and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before.. but it’s not real. and you don’t exist. and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed. it hits me in the car. and it feels like the end of a movie i’ve seen before. before.”

you laughed as you saw melanie and your friends stand up in the back of the bar, dancing on stools.

“i can see my friends dancing.. so badly because they love the next song,” you laugh.

“once the flight had flown. with the wilt of the rose. i slept all alone. you still wouldn’t go. let’s fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later. i see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. you search in every maiden’s bed for something greater, baby. was it over when she laid down on your couch? was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse? ‘come here,’ i whispered in your ear in your dream as you passed out, baby. was it over then? and is it over now? when you lost control. red blood, white snow. blue dress on a boat. your new girl is my clone,” you smiled, knowing was part comes next. “and did you think i didn’t see you, there were flashing lights. at least i had the decency to keep my nights out sight. only rumors ��bout my hips and thighs, and my whispered sighs. oh, lord. i think about jumping. off of very tall somethings. just to see you coming runnin’, runnin’. and say the one thing i’ve been wanting, but no. let’s. fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later. if she's got blue eyes, i will surmise that you'll probably date her. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. you search in every model's bed for something greater, baby, was it over when she laid down on your couch? was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse? ‘come here,’ I whispered in your ear in your dream as you passed out, baby. was it over then? and is it over now? oh. oh. think i didn’t see you? there were flashing lights. at least i had the decency to keep my nights out sight. only rumors ‘bout my hips and thighs, and my whispered sighs. oh, lord. i think about jumping. off of very tall somethings. just to see you coming runnin’, runnin’. and say the one thing i’ve been wanting, but no. let’s fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later. oh. i was hoping you’d be there. and say the one thing i’be been wanting… but no.”

another round of applause as you passed off the guitar.

“so.. this song is not my song. i am.. very nervous for this, but.. this is sign of the times.”

you closed your eyes tightly as the music started, “just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times. welcome to the final show. hope you're wearing your best clothes. you can't bribe the door on your way to the sky. you look pretty good down here. but you ain't really good.. we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? … just stop your crying it’s a sign of the times. we gotta get away from here. we gotta get away from here. just stop your crying, it’ll be alright. they told me that the end is near. we gotta get away from here. just stop your crying, have the time of your life. breaking through the atmosphere, and things are pretty good from here. remember everything will be alright. we can meet again somewhere. somewhere far away from here.. we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? just stop your crying. it’s a sign of the times. we gotta get away from here. we gotta get away from here. stop your crying, baby, it'll be alright. they told me that the end is near we gotta get away from here. we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets?” you finally opened your eyes, trying to find melanie, but instead, you find the last person you expected to be here.

the man whose song you’re literally singing.

harry was slightly weary when an over-excited girl with light pink hair came up to him and asked him — begged him, really — to come to her best friends show. he wasn’t sure what convinced him. or what possessed him to bring his mother and gemma along with him.

but he had to say, he didn’t.. regret it.

you were pretty — extremely pretty. and you were a crazy good singer. he was pretty sure you were singing his song better than him.

you swallowed your nerves as you sang the chorus and bridge, keeping eye contact even though you felt like shitting your pants. “we never learn, we been here before. why are we always stuck and running from the bullets? the bullets? we don't talk enough. we should open up. before it's all too much. will we ever learn? we've been here before. it's just what we know. stop your crying, baby. it's a sign of the times. we gotta get away. we got to get away..” you finally looked away, closing your eyes. “we got to get away. we got to get away. we got to get away. we got to, we got to, away. we got to, we got to, away. we got to, we got to, away.”

you let out a shaking exhale as the song ended, backing up from the mic. you bowed and blew kisses to the audience before practically sprinting offstage.

to: mel x

WHAT THE FUCK MELANIE WHY THE FUCK DID INJUST MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HARRY STYLES WHILE SINGING SIGN OF THE TIMES IM GONNA KILL

MY

SELF.

from: mel xx

NOOO I INVITED HIM ITS FINE

to: mel xx

you

what.

from: mel xx

I SAW HIM A WEEK AFTER WE BOOKED YOU THE GIG AND MIGHT HAVE BEGGED HIM TO COME BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WANT TO MEET HIM AND WHAT BETTER WAY THAN THIS

to: mel xx

oh i dunno

ANY OTHER WAY?

from: mel xx

BABE IT IS FINE

HE BROUGHT HIS MUM AND GEMMA TOO

to: mel xx

WHAG

from: mel xx

HE SAID HE LOVED IT AND U WERE OHENOMENAL

NOW GET OUT HERE AND MEET HIM

after taking ten minutes to breath, you walked over to the bar, finding melanie pretty easily.

“i love you so much for playing is it over now!”

“i played it just for you and your psycho obsession with it,” you laughed as she yanked you into a hug.

you two pulled away, and you turned around when you felt a presence behind you.

your eyes widened when you were face to face with harry fucking styles.

“hey.. y/n, right?”

you blinked a few times… that couldn’t be real. this was most definitely a prank.

“.. are you alright?”

“yes! sorry, i’m.. yeah, i’m good. hi, yeah. i’m.. y/n.”

he smiled at you, “i’m harry. but.. you seem to already know that, since y’sang my song and all.”

“i.. yeah, i do know who you are,” you laugh awkwardly.

“well, i’m glad to know who you are as well.”

you had to bit your lip to keep from smiling like a psycho.

“oh, and uh.. happy christmas,” he smiled.

you furrowed your brows, grabbing your phone.

12:01, 25 december 2018

happy christmas, indeed.

a/n: edging 😛 LMAO this might get another part, it lowk just depends on how well it does!!

[strawberryfairi]

Shuji Hanma | Headcanons

★ When he flirts with you; Black Girl Edition❣️ ★ Fluff; Shuji being ridiculously chaotic and you pretending not to love it

💎 DO NOT let this man's looks fool you. Shuji is a cornball ass bozo! I said what I had said💁🏾‍♀️

~He comes across so intimidatingly gorgeous, especially since he's so damn tall, but he flirts with you like he's still in high school because he thinks it's funny. Just the most unserious man to walk the earth.

~ For example: "You got any bandaids? 'Cause I scraped my knees when I fell for you, baby." He murmurs next to your ear with a wide, prideful grin. You give him your best side eye for a moment, then walk away shaking your head, attempting to force your smile down so he wouldn't get boosted off your reaction.

"You need to go on somewhere with your goofy ass. That was even worse than yesterday." You reply over your shoulder, the amusement all in your voice as you kept walking.

~He would never admit this out loud, but he loves the way you always roll your eyes and walk away trying to hide your smile from him when he makes a move on you. He follows after you every single time.

~Honestly he can be like that annoying sibling that won't stop bothering you when he wants to. Turning your bedroom light on then leaving with your door wide open type time...that's Shuji.

~He will absolutely insert himself into your daily life, and do it without warning. He just...arrives. ~Does not care about your feelings on the matter either^^, if he wants to be around you he will.

~You act like you'd never give him the time of day and he absolutely, positively loves it.

~You have to give it to 'em, he's definitely persistent.

~He's never satisfied with his encounters with you until you're completely bothered and/or utterly embarrassed by him.

~Example #2: "Get back! Why're you always doin' the most?!" You rant, covering your face with hands to hide the embarrassment as you walk. This man Shuji had started yelling out Michael Jackson lyrics in the middle of the sidewlak all out in public like he don't got no damn sense. Acting like he's in a music video behind you, people start to stare and mumble discreetly to each other as they passed by you two, only making the embarrassment ten thousand times worse.

"JUST KISS ME BABY AND TELL ME TWICE, THAT YOU'RE THE ONE FOR ME! THE WAY YOU-

"SHUJI! I'm bouta call the police on your stupid ass! Stop! 'Cause you can't even sing!" You holler over him, trying to come across as angry and annoyed as possible as you continue speed walking down the sidewalk.

~He definitely noticed the wide smile on your face....

~No no, getting serious for a second though, he'll definitely come through whenever you need his help. Especially if it involves beating some idiot guy's ass that couldn't take a hint. ~I mean, he's goofy and wild, but he's always reliable.

~Speaking of fighting, he loves to show off his skills when he can. He knows he's a great fighter and so do you.

~He loves the height and overall size difference between you too, and will definitely flex that regularly.

~He's not one to get sappy or particularly emotional, but whenever you're upset or crying about something he'll cheer you up in his own (ghetto) way.

~Example #3: You sniffled a few times, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you finished ranting about your coworkers at your stressful job.

"Yeah, that's a lot. So...wanna ride?" He asks, his tone plain yet a mischievous smirk made it's way onto his lips. Your face instantly scrunches up in annoyance.

"Shuji! Why can't you just like listen and-

"On my bike, on my bike!" He chuckles, waving his hands in surrender as you smack his shoulder.

"Then say that, not 'wanna ride'." You scold, giving him another one of your classic side eyes. He knew damn well that came across sexual.

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon into night riding around town until you completely forgot about the stress of the day. It was a win-win in Shuji's mind. You weren't upset anymore, and he got to spend hours with the feeling of your arms wrapped around him for once instead of smacking him.

********************************************************************

🧚🏾‍♀️A/N: Ugh, I love Shuji, he's such a goofy, tall cutie.

DON'T STEAL MY WORK✋🏾🛑

[ladylooch]

Since David is Connor’s teammate, how/when does he officially meet Mack

AN: This was in the Queue for DAYZZZZ. bless my heart this was supposed to be out last week. My b!

Mack and David first meet when he is 26 and she is 22.

She comes over to NY right after graduation for a job interview in the US with Travel + Leisure as a full-time travel blogger. She had her own travel blog throughout college and impressed the interview panel with her content. So, she got her dream job right out of school. Mack moved to NY that summer. She stayed in Connor and Lucie’s apartment over the off-season while they split time between Massachusetts and Switzerland.

David lives in the same building as the Wood's. He had come back early that summer, knocking on the door to ask for some milk.

"Hi?" Mack had asked, peeking one eye out at him. He had been shirtless, shorts hanging low on his hips as he smiled charmingly at her.

"Mack?"

"Who are you?" She scrunches her nose at him.

"I'm Connor's teammate, David." Yeah, she figured. Everything about this guy screams hockey.

"He's not here."

"Yeah." He smiles larger, rubbing at his thick mustache with the pad of his thumb. "He said you might be willing to lend me some milk? I got in late last night and am trying to make some oatmeal before I go on a run." Mack looks him up and down, deciding he seems relatively harmless despite his sculpted body. She opens the door farther.

"I only have almond milk."

"That's cool. Anything is better than water." She waves him in.

David strolls to the fridge like he's familiar with the walk. He looks in, finding the almond milk after a few moments. He stands there, looking over the contents of the fridge. He has never seen so much chick food in his life. Not a single beer or cold pizza slice in sight.

Meanwhile, Mack goes back to the counter, curling a leg under her as she goes back to editing. David grabs the milk, then shuts the door, standing on the other side of the island, staring at Mack. She ignores him, continuing to sift through her layers in photoshop to grab the right boost for the turquoise blue water she just left behind in Hawaii.

Eventually, the silence and his insistent, green-eyed stare become awkward. Mack connects their eyes, then deliberately works her gaze down to the milk in his hand.

"You good?" She asks. "Cause I'm kind of working." She twirls her finger. "Some of us aren't millionaires." He nods, then shrugs his big shoulders.

"Where do you work?"

"At a magazine." She clicks a few times on her computer, then looks at the settings. David walks around the island, curiously looking over her shoulder.

"Wow, do you mind?" She asks, grabbing the screen of her laptop and pulling it down. The picture is not ready for any type of public consumption.

"Did you take that picture?"

"Yes."

"Pretty good. Although whatever you're doing to it makes it look fake." An iterated scowl glosses over Mack's face.

"Thanks for the unsolicited feedback. I'll make sure to critique your game after one shift." David chuckles.

"I didn't mean to offend you. Just being honest."

"Yeah, I'm sure. You hockey boys never do."

"Well, I'm half hockey boy, half farmer."

"Oh! Even better! That explains everything." She smirks, thinking about how small and closed-minded his world view must be.

"Wow, beautiful but snotty and judgmental. No one told you to leave that better than thou attitude in Switzerland?" Mack scoffs, rolling her eyes. He was the one who interrupted her morning.

"Again, I ask: are you good?" She points towards the door. He smiles widely at her, grabbing the carton off the counter.

"Thanks for the hospitality, Miss Hischier." He pretends to tip his hat at her while he works his way back towards the door. "Enjoy manipulating people out of their money with your photoshop."

[bunni-v1]

(Twenty) Nine Lives for Love

Chapter 4: Right. Prev Chapter\\Next Chapter m.list

Tw: Feelings; Crumbling relationships with parents (dw it'll be fineeeee)

Info: Kenma x Reader ; Kuroo and Reader; Kuroo is a wingman (bad at his job); Maki is still fat

Word Count: 5.3k 🍓Soooo, I finally had time to edit this (yay!) I was supposed to work on Curee but uhm... no! Kenma Kozume you will never ever want me the way I want you, but you take precedence!

Tag List: @angel-academia @bi-bi-papillon

By the time practice is out on Thursday, you have fully relaxed into your new routine at Nekoma. Walk to school with Kuroo and Kenma, attend class, eat lunch with Kenma (now featuring both Yamamoto and Fukunaga), head to practice, and then grab snacks from the convenience store after it's all done. It’s easy and much like your old one at Karasuno, so you get comfortable quickly, especially with how friendly and receptive the team has been to you. 

As you approach your neighborhood today, Kuroo offers to let you come over for some of his gran's delicious sweetbread, but you decline. His disappointment makes you feel like you kicked a kitten, but you have prior commitments. So, you promise you’ll have the time another day, and he and Kenma wave you off.

As usual, your old man isn’t home when you get back. Never early, never late. Your school bag thumps to the floor as Maki greets you with excited chirps. You take the time to make sure she has food, sweep the floors, and do some other chores before heading up to your room for your final task of the day: Calling Noya and Tanaka. (Calling it a “task” was an exaggeration, you were excited to talk to them again.) It was an odd time to do so, but you promised them so you couldn’t back out now. You pull the laptop you’ve had since middle school out from your desk that you’ve had just as long, and nestle yourself into your pillows. Your Dad and your Mom (and your Stepdad) offered to get you a new one, but you can’t bring yourself to do it just yet. You’re too damn sappy. It whirrs to life, fans a bit too loud to be a good sign, and you’re greeted with a picture of yourself and Noya covered in mud and bruises.

It’s your favorite picture of you two together. Back when life was good and easy and all you were worried about was when the next volume of Shonen Jump was coming out and making sure you got the first spot in line for recess. Your mom took this picture, and you know it was her because she was the one who scolded the two of you for making such a mess of yourselves right before dinner. You briefly think about going through the other pictures on the clunky thing, but Skype pops up and starts chiming to remind you that had better things to do. You accept the call, immediately greeted by Tanaka’s awful posters of half-naked women behind his bald head and Noya squinting way too close to the camera to get a good look at said posters.

“Don’t look too hard, you’ll pop a blood vessel,” you say dryly.

“He’s popping something, that's for sure,” Tanaka responds smoothly – ironic coming from him.

“I am not!” He defends, then slowly adds, “...yet…”

You roll your eyes, “Both of you are nasty.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Tanaka argues.

“It’s your poster you perv!” You shout back.

“Hey! Admiring beauty does not make me a pervert! In fact, you’re the perverted one for thinking like that.” He shoots back.

You scoff, crossing your arms haughtily, “Do your legs hurt from making that leap? If not, I can come back to Miyagi and break ‘em for ya.”

“Guys c’mon, we can try and kill each other later,” Noya says, somehow the voice of reason despite being the cause of the problem, and points accusingly at you (you think, because he’s just pointing at his computer screen), “You owe us a catch-up, Miss too-busy-to-text-my-best-friends.”

You sigh at Tanaka’s childish ‘yeah!’ holding your hands up in defeat. You had been busy with the team and adjusting, but in your defense, you were texting them! Just not as much as normal, not enough to give them a real run-down of your daily life – which was enough for their complaining to be reasonable. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. It’s not all that exciting like you’re thinking – not like that little redhead Tanaka’s been talking about, at least.”

Tanaka groans, whining about getting up early every day. He was just such a good senpai, helping his little freshmen train. Both you and Noya call him an idiot, which derails the conversation for a little while until Noya suddenly gains consciousness again and bitches at you to get on with it.

You proceed to tell them almost everything that’s happened in the past week so far. Kuroo and Kenma, managing the volleyball team, your classes, and of course giving them a much-needed Maki update after she trods herself up to your room. (Noya insists she got fatter, Tanaka thinks she’s slimmer, and you think you need to have a serious chat about the amount of treats your Dad is giving her). They’re very interested in the volleyball club, which was expected of them. You swear they have a volleyball instead of brains sometimes.

“So… you’re pretty much their manager,” Tanaka drawls, chewing loudly on some chips Saeko gave him earlier.

“It's not official yet.” You correct. You can feel Shimizu-Senpai’s ire from Miyagi already. You hope she can find someone to replace you this year. “Offical sign-ups for clubs start tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Noya hums, also munching on something bready that you can’t make out on his pixelated screen, “you’re gonna say yes, so why be so dodgy about it?”

You frown, evading your eyes, which tips both of your friends off that something is up. It’s not as if you didn’t want to say yes. Saying no to the position felt like a sin against every god you could name. There was just a little, tiny, itty bitty anxious part of you that was filled with what-ifs. What if you’re not good at it long term? What if the team was only tolerating you? What if it’s overstepping boundaries? What if you don’t have the time with classes?

“Oi!” Noya shouts, getting close to the camera again. If he were here he would probably grab you by the face and force you to look him in the eyes. That alone makes you slide your eyes back to the screen to look at his glare.

“Quit overthinking things,” Tanaka scolds – which feels wrong, considering he’s normally the one being yelled at. This whole friendship thing works both ways, you suppose.

“I know–” You try, but they aren’t having it this time.

“No! You’re gonna go to the sign-ups tomorrow,” Noya starts.

Tanaka continues, “You’re gonna… fill out those forms, or whatever!”

“Then you’re gonna give them to the coach right away. No ifs ands or buts.” Noya finishes, poking his camera for emphasis.

“Okay! Okay, I’m gonna say yes, I promise,” Shimizu-Senpai is out there somewhere, planning her revenge on you.

There's a nice lull in the conversation, and you think you almost got away with not talking about Kenma. You did try not to make a big deal out of him or Kuroo, but alas, Nishinoya Yuu and Tanaka Ryunosuke are not your best friends for no reason.

“Sooo,” Noya drawls, and you know what's coming, “tell us more about that Kenma guy~”

“Ugh, god, I knew you were gonna make a deal out of him.” You complain, visibly flustered.

“There is something up with him!” Tanaka declares, “Told’ja she was hiding something from us.”

“Nothing is up with him, okay? He’s just…” You struggle to put it into words. What is he? Nice was too mild. Amazing was too much. 

“A total hottie?” (Tanaka.)

“The love of your life?” (Noya.)

Your idiots say at the same time, forcing a sigh past your lips, “No. He’s just… he’s right. You know? He’s right.”

“Right?” They say in sync, then nod as if they understand and repeat, “He’s right.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, a little weight lifted off your shoulders, “It’s like we were meant to meet. Everything is easy and comfortable. It’s… right.”

Then, when you feel like you have solved the puzzle, the dreaded question comes, from Tanaka of course, “Do you think he’s your soulmate?”

The weight is back, and your friends can tell from how quickly they try to backtrack, but you’d rather talk to them a little about it than shove it down.

“He doesn’t believe in soulmates. I think he thinks they’re silly,” you laugh dryly, chest aching, “besides, just because I click well with him doesn’t mean he’s my soulmate. I get along great with Kuroo too!”

“But it’s different with that Kenma guy,” Noya says simply, ripping apart any rationalization you’ve been able to do the past few days, “like you said, it feels right. He’s right.”

You think about it for a long moment, trying to find a good way around what he said. As usual, though, you just can’t beat Noya’s simple, straightforward logic. You can’t complicate something so incredibly uncomplicated.

“Even if he is my soulmate, which he probably isn’t, I won’t push it on him,” you respond, voice thoughtful and quiet, “He’s a friend first, and if he happens to be my soulmate, I don’t want to push him away with daydreams.”

That gets them to back off long enough that you can masterfully change subjects back to the new freshmen on Karasuno’s team. You take a stab at trying to convince Noya to rejoin, but as usual, he’s too stubborn to reason with. Talking with them, as always, is easy. It almost feels like you’re right there in the room with them, if it weren’t for the way Noya’s audio glitches every once in a while. You get so lost talking to them that, before you know it, it’s 8:30 and your Dad is shouting for you to come down to eat. You didn’t even hear him come home. He didn’t even bother saying hello.

With promises that you would text them more consistently, and that you’d definitely plan a trip to Miyagi over a break, you hang up the call and join your father for another tense dinner. Ever since you had accidentally ignored him on Tuesday, he’d been a bit distant. He was still warm and loving, but you could tell it seriously hurt him when you broke the routine. So, you’d been doing your best to keep everything as balanced as always. You chat about classes, practice, and the latest movies coming out. Nothing that could rock the boat, because it already had enough water in it, and you couldn’t afford it sinking.

Speaking of sunken ships, he mentions that your Mother and Stepdad wanted to come visit sometime. Which was fine with you, but you knew things were tense between the three of them, so you left the decision up to him. By the time you make it back up to your room, you want nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a million years so you don’t have to deal with the weirdness surrounding you and your dad. 

It lingered around the house. In each dark corner where light doesn’t quite reach, each creak of its old bones, each awkward silence left in the still kind of strange-smelling air there is a discomforting reminder that things are not right with him. There is an ache in your muscles that you must fix it, and a stab to your stomach when you realize you don’t know how to. It makes you want to sleep forever; let your muscles relax for just a little bit.

Sleeping Beauty had it pretty good, you think. At least she had a prince waiting for her. All you had was a cat the size of a medium dog and two of the dumbest people you’d ever met a few hundred miles away. In a last-ditch effort to feel better, you slide the box labeled ‘textbooks’ out from under your bed and dig out the object of your desire. The studies of soulmates.

You’d managed to masterfully (sloppily) hide them from your dad. Thank god you have (had?) a good relationship, or else he might’ve gone through your room and found them already. With greedy fingers, you tug the only bookmarked one out from the bottom of the box, flipping it open with a big grin on your face. Reading about soulmates always made you feel better. Always. 

This was volume three of six of the original set – your mother did not have the revised versions the author put out shortly before they had passed. Still, the first edition of the first two volumes was fascinating, if not for minor inaccuracies. Volume one covered entirely what soulmates are; who can be a soulmate; how the lifetimes of soulmates intertwine, and things along that line. Volume two discussed “the in-between”, the place between life and death. This volume you were on, however, discussed the process of discovering your soulmate.

You had read through the more… logistical parts of the book and were now on the part about the feelings. It was a short chapter, as far as you could tell, but it would be enough to maybe make you feel better. Grazing over the parts you’d already read, you quickly ended up back where you had left off. The spark. 

“The ‘spark’ is not a concrete thing, nor is it entirely flexible. It occurs differently for every person and creature that may experience it, and yet there is one thing that is common among all described experiences. Without fail, all people who have experienced this ‘spark’ have a sense of intense familiarity regarding everything related to their soulmate. A sense of belonging within their other half’s social life. Family, friends, hobbies, pets, and everything in between seem to settle into place without any effort.”

You nod along to the words on your page, comprehending them as best as you can. You recalled Tanaka talking about something like that with Kiyoko, though you doubted it a bit at the time. You flipped the page, deciding it was best not to dwell on how ironically familiar this was all sounding. The next section covered several other facts about the connection between two soulmates, but you couldn’t stop your mind from thinking about that short but impactful paragraph. 

You did not want to be dramatic, nor did you want to sound insane, but you had noticed a familiarity with Kenma. About… everything surrounding him. The way you felt like you’d found a missing puzzle piece beneath the foot of a table, one you’d long since given up looking for. Like you waited a whole lifetime to finally click into place with him. You’d only met him four days ago, though. You did not know him. Certainly not enough to be acting this delusional. He was right, though. (Your heart insists it, loud and clanging like church bells in your steeple of a chest).

You try for a little longer to read the text, but it all blurs together with the rampant thoughts of hope singing in your brain. You growl at yourself, slamming the book shut and shoving it back under the bed in the box. (Maki startles, yowling and flying across the room in fear, though you don’t pay her any mind.) You’d only managed to make things worse by thinking about Kenma. He was not your soulmate, and even if he was he didn’t believe they existed. That shuts down any chance of this wild pipe dream coming true – NOT that you had any intention of chasing it in the first place. Hell, you hardly believed it. It would be too easy. Too simple. Too convenient. That is not how the universe was and you knew better than to fool yourself into thinking that.

With nothing but anger and annoyance left in the place of energy, you grumpily toss on your pajamas and decide to call it a night. Maki crawled up into bed – hesitantly like you might throw her next – and curled against your side. Tomorrow would come fast, and you’d be able to forget about your stupid thoughts in the morning. That's what you kept repeating in your head to stop your mind from drifting again.

.·:*˚¨¨ ≈★≈ ¨¨˚*:·.

You do not sleep well, and because of this, you manage to sleep in nearly too late. You miss seeing your Dad off, and you hardly have enough time to get changed, let alone eat before you are flying out the front door. You hope Kenma and Kuroo are waiting for you, though you wouldn’t blame them for ditching. Just because you’re late doesn’t mean they have to be. Lucky you, they are good friends, and they’re awaiting your arrival patiently at your front gate.

“Sorry, I’m late!” You apologize, still hopping into your shoes as you exit the front gate, “Just couldn’t get up this morning!”

Kuroo shrugs your worries off, “Just means we won’t have time to stop at the vending machine.”

Kenma busies himself with straightening out your hair, a habit that he’d started after the head pat incident. It makes your cheeks flush with heat, but neither of you bother to acknowledge it,  and luckily Kuroo doesn’t care either. “Means we don’t have to deal with Yamamoto this morning.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a way to be a problem,” You laugh, Kenma sighs, and then you remember something you’d been meaning to ask, “Oh! Wait, before we go! Which houses are yours?”

They both give you odd looks, like you should know by now, but… you don’t. You give them an awkward shrug, and they return the gesture, letting it roll off their shoulders.

“Mine is the kinda misshapen grey one over there, and Kenma’s is–” Kuroo explains.

“It’s that one,” Kenma cuts off, pointing to the one neighboring Kuroo’s. They’re both across the street just three houses down. No wonder they gave you weird looks, you totally should’ve figured that out, especially with their names on them.

Kenma’s is shorter than Kuroo’s, which makes it stick out a little amongst the other houses. It’s an off-white color with brown trimming, simple but inviting. You feel like you’ve seen it before. Like you’ve walked up its cobblestone path and right through its front door. That was impossible, you think as you turn on your heel, you’d never been to Kenma’s house.

“Boy, do I look stupid,” you laugh, leading the way so you can get to class on time.

“You always go in right away,” Kuroo dismisses, “I wouldn’t’ve put it together either.”

“Our names are on the front gates,” Kenma mutters, ending the conversation, still lost in his PS Vita as usual. You wonder what he was playing… you peek over his shoulder, and he leans in closer to let you see. Oh, it was one of those Persona games. You watch him play with interest for a while, maybe you should get into the franchise. It was visually pleasing, and the gameplay looked fun. Despite your best efforts to distract yourself with his game, your mind still wanders back to the houses. That sense of Deja Vu was hard to ignore.

“Y’know,” you announce suddenly, “Your houses are kinda… familiar? When I was looking at Kenma’s, I felt like I’d already gone through the whole place. Isn’t that odd?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo echos, “maybe you have prophetic dreams of house tours.”

You scoff, readying a comeback, but notice Kenma has this kind of quiet look on his face. Like he wants to say something, but he isn’t sure if he should say it. They’re common from him, especially around you. Normally Kuroo would be the one to poke at him, but since you’re already close, you give him a little nudge, “What’s on your mind, Kenma?”

He frowns a little, hesitant as he answers, “I feel the same way about your place.”

“Oh?” Is all you can manage, and you hope you don’t look as stupid as you sound.

His eyes are fixated on the game, though he isn’t doing anything in it anymore, and he nods, “Yeah. When I first came to pick you up, I got this feeling like I’d been there before. For reasons other than visiting the Shirashi’s with my parents, if that makes sense.”

You try to crush the glimmering hope in your chest. You were not thinking about soulmate stuff today. You told yourself today was a no soulmate talk kind of day and you meant it. (If you didn’t want Kenma to know how deeply your adoration for the concept ran, that would be humiliating.)

“Oooo~ Maybe you two are soulmates!” Kuroo purrs, shattering any thought of ‘no soulmates.’

You huff, face heating up. Dammit Kuroo Tetsurou, did he have it out for you or something? You brace yourself for his adamant denial, but it doesn’t come. You realize then his ears are bright red and– oh my god, he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed. Wait. Why was he embarrassed? 

You curse Kuroo out in your head, but just as fast as he brought this curse upon you, he remedied it with smooth words and quick thinking. “Just kidding! I know Kenma doesn’t believe in that kinda thing.”

“It’s not–” Kenma starts, clearly more bothered than he expected himself to be. He takes a deep breath, then tries again, “I don’t not believe in them, I just don’t… It’s too romantic to accept that they’re real. Waiting lifetime after lifetime for one person? Too dramatic for real life.”

You couldn’t argue with that. It was the same idea your Dad had about them, but he was more bitter about it. If you were a different person with a different Mom and a different childhood, you’d probably think the same way. 

“That’s what makes them so nice though, right?” Kuroo argues, “Someone out there that was made just for you? Sign me up!”

“Exactly,” you accidentally say out loud, and the three of you are finally approaching the front gates of Nekoma High. Looks like you’re failing at the no soulmates thing. “I mean… maybe they aren’t real and I’m just being childish, but… someone who just understands me effortlessly sounds nice. Logical or not.”

“Logic is what makes sense of everything,” Kenma counters, “Without it, we wouldn’t understand anything.”

“Yeah, and that's all good and fine, but emotions aren’t logical. The way we feel doesn’t make any sense most of the time, so why would eternal love be any different?” You ask aloud.

“Bingo.” Kuroo punctuated with two finger guns pointed your way. “Not everything has to make sense, and not everything will. Soulmates are just one of those things that you’ve gotta have trust in your feelings for.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything as the three of you make your way up the stairs, the five-minute bell chiming at a higher pitch than the ten-minute overhead. You want to apologize, but Kuroo shoots you a hidden thumbs up to assure you, so you don’t. Kenma is tense for the rest of the day. Quiet and thoughtful, though he still takes the time to talk to you. It leaves you feeling all warm inside that he would account for you, despite what’s happening in his head.

During lunch, he doesn’t pull out his PS Vita like he usually does, which Fukunaga points out as strange. Kenma says the battery is low, but you know it’s not because it was at full charge when you peaked at it this morning. Yamamoto is also late, which you know Kenma is more than happy for, but you can’t help but worry. What if he doesn’t eat? How horrible! He’s an athlete, he needs to eat a lot to stay strong and healthy. (It’s nice to be distracted from your worry over Kenma.)

Your worries are squashed when he bursts through the door of your classroom, scaring several unsuspecting students with his heavy panting. Was he sweating? Did he run here? From where? His aura is intense as he approaches you, face hardened into a determined glare. If you hadn’t taken time to get to know him, you’d think he was trying to kill you. He stops right in front of you, the toes of his shoes almost touching yours. He shoves something in your face, not a knife (thank god), but a flimsy sheet of paper.

The three of you give him an odd look, wordlessly asking what his issue was, but he waggles the paper. You take it, careful to avoid brushing your fingers with him, and read over it. It was… an application for managing sports teams… Most of it was already filled out in messy handwriting. You grin, looking back up at the incredibly red Yamamoto.

Fukunaga grabs for it, and you let him take it with no resistance. He laughs as he reads it, and finally, Kenma grabs it. Instead of amusement, which you didn’t expect in the first place, he’s… annoyed. He glares at the paper like it’s personally offended him. You try and pretend not to see it, though it does make your heart ache a little. (Does he not want you to sign up? He was the first person who asked, so what’s his deal?)

“I realized you hadn’t applied officially to be our manager, and I thought I’d give you a headstart,” Yamamoto admits awkwardly as the paper finally makes its way back into your hands, “Most of it should be filled out.”

You smile at the paper, “This is sweet Yamamoto, thanks. I was planning on signing up at the activities fair, but I guess this saves me the trouble, huh?”

“You can give that to coach at the fair,” Fukunaga explains, “It’s the easiest way to apply and should guarantee your spot. Not that we were expecting any applications outside of you in the first place.”

“Just trying to play it safe,” Yamamoto defends, “don’t wanna lose her right as she settles in.”

“Thanks, guys,” you say with a big grin, “I’ll finish it up, then we can walk together to get it turned in?”

Fukunaga gives you a quiet thumbs up, while Yamamoto yells his acceptance, earning glares from the other students situated around the room. You glance to Kenma for his approval, but he’s too busy thinking again. You shrug it off because if you think too hard about it, you’ll worry.

.·:*˚¨¨ ≈★≈ ¨¨˚*:·.

Practice is canceled for the day thanks to the activities fair. Kuroo, Nobuyuki, and Coach Nekomata are all going to be promoting the volleyball club, so there’s no real reason to go. As promised, you and a still pensive Kenma wait patiently for Fukunaga and Yamamoto in your classroom. You’d been able to avoid how uncomfortable Kenma’s silence had made you all day because you’d had other things to do. Yamamoto even noticed though he had no idea what his deal was. Now that it was just you and him… well, you can’t avoid it.

“Okay,” you announce, pressing your palms flat on his desk, “time to fess up. What’re you thinking about so intensely?”

He blinks at you, surprised, then he shifts his gaze to the chalkboard behind you, “Was it that obvious?”

“You lied about your PS being dead,” you put plainly, “that’s super weird.”

He lets out a breath, and then shrugs in defeat, “I was just thinking about the stuff from this morning.”

Your head tilts a little, “What? The house stuff?”

“The soulmate stuff. Why would I be thinking about the house stuff?” He snarks, pulling back a little when you laugh.

“That makes a lot more sense,” you giggle, and he rolls his eyes in what you think is a playful manner (playful for him, at least), “I’m sorry if what I said bothered you. I get that it can sound… insane… if you don’t believe in them.”

He shrugs, eyes still avoiding yours. You appreciate it a little. You think if he looks at you, you’ll do something stupid.

“I played a game about soulmates once,” he mumbles, leaning back to glare at the ceiling. You lean forward, resting on your arms now. “It was cute, really romantic. You played as each partner and helped them navigate through their lives. There were a bunch of close calls where they almost met, but something always messes up and keeps them apart in every life. Then, at the end of the game, they finally meet, and it ends when they realize.”

“That is cute.” You hum attentively.

His head shoots up looking at you with an unreadable expression, “It was scary.”

You blink at him, and without meaning to, you laugh a little, “What? You just described a romance novel and you found it… scary?”

He huffs, “It’s not the romance stuff, it’s the ending.”

“What’s so scary about soulmates meeting?” You say incredulous.

“It ends,” He states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “everyone talks about soulmates like they’re the final destination. The story‘s over once you meet them. It’s awful. Immediate game over.”

You scoff, “Ken,” The nickname is so natural it makes you sick, “Meeting your soulmate isn’t the end, it’s the beginning.”

It’s his turn to blink at you, head tilting curiously. It makes you smile, and without thinking you grab his hands and squeeze them. It’s a comforting gesture your Mom always did when you were confused or upset or anything other than happy. You think he could use it too. He stares at where they connect with wide eyes, and his ears burn red again. 

“Sure, you spent like a gazillion lives trying to find that one person, but when you find them…” you try hard to remember how Noya’s Gramps put it, then try to translate that to something he can understand “It’s like you defeated a final boss, and the huge XP boost it gives you allows your character to level up into a new class type. Does that make sense? I don’t play a lot of RPGs.”

At some point during your explanation he affixed his gaze on you, intense eyes practically drinking in all of your features like it was the first time he’d seen you. It makes your stomach flip, especially when he squeezes your hands back. “Close enough.” That is all he says, and it's the only indication that you might’ve gotten through to him. The two of you sit and stare at each other for a good long moment, unsure of what you should say – if you even should speak.

“Ooo, are we interrupting something?” A playful voice sounds from the doorway. Both of your heads whip around to see who it is, and you grin, thanking the universe for Morisuke’s abrasiveness. You might’ve kissed Kenma if it weren’t for him. (Did you really just admit that to yourself?)

Kenma pulls away first and quickly busies himself with packing away his things. You smile at him, then stand and toss your bag over your shoulder. “We were just talking. What are you doing here Morisuke-Senpai?”

“I heard about Yamamoto’s scheming, so I figured I might as well be a part of it too,” He snickers.

“It wasn’t scheming! It was… tactical coercion.” Yamamoto defends.

“That sounds worse,” Fukunaga comments candidly.

“Really?” Yamamoto squeals.

You huff a laugh out of your nose, walking up to them with Kenma at your side. “You guys are too loud,” He complains.

You ruffle his hair to appease him, which seems to work like a charm. You ignore how shocked his friends seem at it, “Let's go get this turned in. I can’t wait to officially be your manager!”

A chorus of cheers (followed by a groan) comes from the boys around you, and you lead the way through the halls until you realize you don’t know where you’re going, then Morisuke leads the way. With promises of celebratory pork buns, you all pick up the pace, though you let yourself fall back a little to keep Kenma company as the other three glavant forward.

You look at the piece of paper in your hands, a mix of Yamamoto’s handwriting and yours. Then your eyes drift over the three boys and finally land on Kenma. For once, he’s already looking at you. You give him a grin, and he smiles a little back.

[imaginespazzi]

Nivi!!! Since you are so diligently sticking to your schedule (you’re so inspiring babes), I thought I should at the very least try to get this review to you on time too! Imma just combine parts 5 & 6 in this one so apologies if gets too long. Also, I haven’t really had a chance to scroll and read through other people’s reviews for part 5 so I’m so sorry if I end up repeating what everyone else may have already said.

FIRST OF ALL, Back to December as the lyric reference for Part 5 was *chef’s kiss* - mainly because that’s gotta be one of my top Taylor songs of all time, ah the wistfulness 🥲

DREW cameo!! The only one with brain cells. Cause he’s right, they’re all stupid! (But we love them anyway).

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.” ­– this really got me though. Poor Drew, like he never imagined he’d be having to witness his sister ever marry someone who wasn’t Azzi too! He just wanted his pookie back 🥺

Paige finding out about Azzi’s pregnancy through TikTok feels very on-brand lmao (ugh does that mean there were Olivia and Paige edits once upon a time 🥴), and them still commenting congratulations on each other’s post about the engagement and the pregnancy to keep up the friendly act killed me. Could. Not. Be. Me.

Katie and Paige interactions have my whole heart. Whenever I think about them, I always end up thinking about that immunity booster video so I’m glad it got the mention in part 5!

What is it with you and these damn phone calls, Nivi!! “You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.” “You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.” – once again, cue “and it would have been sweet, if it could have been me”. WELL IT COULD HAVE IF Y’ALL WEREN’T BEING STUPID (sorry, had to channel my inner Drew there).

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child. – Obsessed with this because I just feel like you perfectly captured their relationship with this line.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes –so real for this cause Paige really was being dramatic af since Azzi left with Stephie. Standing on the porch for way-too-long just staring into the distance then breaking down in the fort and not moving for 3 hours. DRAMATIC. But like sad 😔

The comparison between Paige’s expression when talking about Stephie and Tim’s when he first met Azzi. I was waiting for something like this! My heart.

Steph (old) cameo! I’ll allow it, cause despite my hatred for the Warriors, I do loooove that man.

“What defense can a 5 year old play…” – idk why but I had a good chuckle at this, I just love when you pull these one-liners, the comedic timing is impeccable.

Katie with some GREAT lines too.

Pleaseee, not the UNCLE TWIN and TWIN NIECE 😆 I knoww Steph (man) loves the fact that his goddaughter, who’s prolly gonna go on and be a Golden State legend herself, is named after him.

I know it’s super cute, but I do be cracking up a lil everytime Stephie and Paige reunite cause it’s always so goddamn dramatic. Like girly pops please, it’s barely been 24 HOURS 😭

Yeah, Paige gonna be SPOILING her queen and their princess forever.

THEY KISSED.

I may or may not always let out an undignified squeal when I see a high school era flashback. Like those are always my favourites fr. You just never fail to make them feel so nostalgic.

Their first kiss, damn Paige really been a lover girl since 16 huh 🥹 Also the transition from their first kiss to what could be their last first kiss was perfection!

Although, idk if the “slow” that Katie had in mind meant kissing already but hey, they’re moving!

Look, as long as we get at least one cute family scene with our fave trio then that’s all the serotonin I really need for the day (week) and the scene with the flowers and the car seat was exactly that, pure serotonin.

Paige and the Fudds reunion 🥰

Stephie really is ride-or-die for her perfect Miss Buecks!

“Dumbapples” – LMAOOOO sometimes the brain cells just don’t always be braincelling.

And they finally get a redo on that sleepover, where no one leaves, at least not until pancakes have been served.

What’s next?

I’ve been thinking about the break-up too much- like when in 2025? Was it during the season? So before the natty?? But like there’s no way you could be that cruel, Nivi! You couldn’t have them finally winning the natty only for them to be heartbroken while doing so?

Or worse, have them win the natty and make P think she’s got everything she could ever want only for that to come crashing down not long after??

But like definitely pre-draft night maybe?? I guess that would make sense with Azzi overthinking things and worrying about being left behind? Sorry, am just thinking out loud atp!

But like were there already cracks forming even earlier in that year?? Cause if so, I’m curious about Paige’s proposal and the timing of it hmmm. My braincells are attempting to be braincells.🧠

I’m still awaiting that Drew and Azzi reunion cause Drew being so heartbroken that he really tried to stop the wedding all by himself hurt me. I can imagine for Drew too, how much he probably looked to Paige and Azzi as his ideal of what a relationship and love is, only for them to fall apart as well. Plus seeing how close irl Drew is to the Fudds makes me big sad for GH Drew 😞

I can’t wait for Coach P and Player Stephie dynamics!! The favouritism is really not gonna be subtle no matter how hard Paige tries 😃

Soooo, Part 6 was suspiciously too fluffy ya know, I feel like you’re just setting us up. Giving us a taste of joy, only to rip it from us next chapter. I’m on evil writer Nivi watch.

Favourite lines/quotes:

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?”

Because the view in front of them is beautiful but Paige’s eyes are on Azzi and she’s staring at her as if the view is nothing in comparison. – side note: this line and this scene made me nostalgic for the stargazing scene in the UCLA fic 🥹

Alright bestie, this review is a biiig boi but I thought I owed you for being late with the part 5 review so hopefully this makes up for it a little! Also, I’ll prolly be late in reviewing the next one if (when 🤞) it’s out next week cause life is lifing so I’m sorry in advance 😭

Thank you as always for keeping us warm and fed! Hope you’re doing well btw!! Is the baby fever still at a high? Cause I was at the park with my friend and her 1-yr old the other day and omg he was being the sweetest little bean ever and the baby fever was FEVERING but then I realised I’m a baby (adult) too so I promptly brought the fever back to reality 😅

Love ya Nivi, have a great week ahead bestie 💗

-🙋‍♀️

BABES HELLOOO <3 I've been waiting for your thoughts!

This whole fic is very Back to December coded and it's one of my top 5s too and it just fit so well with chapter 5

#FreeDrewBueckersFromDumbassPaigeyAndPookie my poor little man was traumatized and they need to make it up to him immediately

I LOVE KATIE FUDD. And she just gives such entertaining chaotic mom energy and I feel like especially with Paige, she really keep that girl humble (and holds her when she needs it)

The 1 references galore because while I won't subject y'all to an actual depressing fic, I simply can't stop myself from adding the vibes

LMAO Steph is so universally loved I kinda adore that man and he'll be making an appearance again at some point I think.

Listen Stephie and Paige are the definition of matching each other's freak except it's matching each other's dramatics like they're gonna run into each other's arms like they haven't seen each other in years every damn time

Katie tried to nudge them and didn't realize all these idiots needed was a tap to literally full-speed a head (well with some breaks of course)

I cackled writing dumbapples ngl

The marriage proposal is definitely before the draft...that's all you're getting lol

Y'all think Azzi's guilty now when no one's even saying anything to her, just wait for Drew Bueckers and his way with words :)

I am also very excited for more Curry Camp scenes!

I don't think anyone loves or understand the stargazing the scene the way you do babes and I appreciate it <3

Ah lovie, review whenever you can. Even if it's months and month later, I will still be just as excited to read your thoughts!

The baby fever is in fact still higkey baby fever-ing and I don't know how and when it'll stop but I'm not even really trying to stop it.

[stxrsniolo]

okay i saw ur post and i decided to contribute

so there is this GUY. and he is PERFECT to me. he is SO handsome and he’s so funny and he’s also an actual christian which is something big for me, and i might have stalked his reposts and we like a lot of the same things (INCLUDING FRANK OCEAN HAHA YESS) and he was in my math class LAST semester.

LAST SEMESTER after a couple months of breaking up with his girlfriend, who is beautiful and honestly way more beautiful than me imo which is kind of sad because we’re both only brunette like she has brown eyes and i have blue eyes and she is kinda preppy and i just wear what’s comfortable, but anyway, he started getting really flirty and he would take my stuff, laugh at all my jokes, always turn around to look at me, STUFF LIKE THAT. one time i was going through my wallet because i was just paid and i was pretending to flex and do money spreads and shit because i’m soooo hilarious and i showed him my EXPIRED victoria’s secret gift card as a joke and said “oh ahah do u want it you can get a free lotion or body mist” AND HE FUCKING TOOK IT. AND I SAID IT WAS EXPIRED AND HE WAS LIKE “oh ahah idc” and my school made an edits account (i think it was some bitchass freshman) and the first one was of me, and he pulled it up and was like “WHO MADE THIS?” all defensively and shit and i was like “idk” and he KEPT WATCHING IT. and our teacher would always look at us and stuff. so yes there was definitely something going on. okay? and over winter break i was so convinced he was gonna ask me out by this month because likeee i mean who acts like that and DOESNT ask a girl out!?! and then he switched out. because he’s in basketball. and he needed to take history.

i’ve been in shambles since the first day of the semester when he wasn’t in my class.

BUT EVERY TIME I SEE HIM HE ALWAYS STARES AT ME AND TODAY I WAS IN THE GYM WITH MY FRIENDS, HE WAS PLAYING BASKETBALL, AND HE KEPT LOOKING AT ME AND IT WASN’T JUST A GLANCE IT WAS LIKE A FULL BLOWN STARE UNTIL I LOOKED AT HIM. and that happens nearly every fucking day and he always looks at me across the lunchroom at lunch. and sometimes so do his friends.

what do i do???????!!!??? HELP AHHHHHH slowburn final boss💔💔

okay, first of all—breathe, babe. you’re living the dream wattpad story, and i’m absolutely HERE for it. let’s break this down because i have a few things to say and i think you’re downplaying how iconic you are rn.

first of all the VS gift card move? legendary. you literally handed him expired luxury vibes, and he still kept it, maybe because it’s you.

second, the staring? oh, honey, the eyes never lie chica. this man seems to be clocking your every move like he’s studying for a final called How To Approach Her Without Dying, but the whole “switching classes for basketball” thing probably threw him off his game.

third (and most important), about his ex? stop comparing yourself to her! like, yeah, she might be pretty, but she’s not you. he’s making it quite clear where his attention is rn, and it’s not on her. you’ve got this cool, comfortable vibe, and let’s not ignore the blue eyes— that's a total standout.

so what do you do? you make him work for it, but just enough to let him know you’re open to the idea. next time you catch him staring, hold eye contact a second longer and give him a little smirk. it’s subtle, but it’s gonna cause a reaction him if you do it right.

also, next time you’re near him, casually ask about basketball. something like, “you’ve been busy, huh? don’t let it get to your head, though.” keep it playful but confident. let him feel that spark again without you overdoing it.

this is your game now, and he’s just a player trying to get benched on your team. slowburn? nah, babe, you gotta to light this on fire.

[solarnomy]

hello. hi.. um. (yes, i DO say 'um' and stuff through text ironically. i doNOT know why.) im kinda new to tumblr (now, that's a half-lie, i have used tumblr for a while now, just never posted!) so here's an attempt to make a pinned!!.., feel free to give me tips.. im dumb. um press more and stuff to learn about me!! im cool!! so please do it?

hihihi, im solarnomy (or solar, and galxxy on SOME occasions. ) i'm (currently) into minecraft (may or may not have got it on some freaky virus-filled website, it's cause im poor okay. mc is 'expensive' where i live!) oh!!! and i go by she/they (or literally any NON-MASC pronouns! i don't really mind.)

i post art (sometimes, if i don't procrastinate!),, uh edits (i probably won't due to fear..... cause im still ass at editing and stuff), and maybe, if i don't suddenly go like "oh god, what if i post this and everyone hates it and im hated forever??", maybe-just maybe, ill ramble and yap about something im currently hyperfixated on..

(press more to learn more COOLER and EPIC stuff about me! hopefully i won't mess this up and make a mockery of myself.. ahh)

I WATCH MOSTLY UHH, kenadian (wow, really?), wato1876, avatardotpng, and SOME lifestealers!! yeahhhahahah (squiddo.... and uhhhhhhh squiddo.... OH PARROT.. if he counts... uhhhhh) and, here's some other content creators that i watch (but not as much as the ones i just said haha); wifies, astrangecreator, boosfer, ivory, sleepycross!!

and some non-minecraft content creators i watch!!!!! >>> danny gonzalez, itsfunneh/krew, kubz scouts, laurenzside, manlybadasshero, rednasyo!!

now.. onto the fandoms im into/games i play!! (yipee)

- minecraft... (wow, really?)

- genshin impact..... (barely play it nowadays)

- hsr (same as genshin, i barely play it)

- rusty lake (i haven't played all of the games yet :'D)

- ex pjsk player... (im trying to start playing it again!!)

- musedash!!!!!!!!!!!

- death pallette- pallet? oh god i can't spell palletetsteteay.

- nso/needy streamer overload

- roblox. (donate robux, please?)

and more that i probably forgot, but when mentioned, ill go "OH MY GOD? YOU KNOW THAT TOO?"

more about me, im a MINOR?!?!?! gasp??!!! shokerz, man! im usually busy with school... but on weekends, i get freaky... /joke

dnis are probably weirdos... uhhh, homophobes and stuff... urrmm, idrk.. just mind your business and i won't bother you!! likeee if you no bother me!! i cool!! uhh,,!

funfacts about me??? uhh, i have a wife!! (love her sm!!) and im really cool cause i speak a lot of languages (not really, it's 2 and a half... and a ⅛... haha.... yeah)

okay,, that's probably it!! i spent TOO LONG on this!! oh and, feel free to send me reqs and stuff!! im open!!!

oh ya tags n stuff

#solarnomy777 = my really cool art

#solarnomy999 = random yapping

#solarnomy671 = answering stuff ^_^

[leynaeithnea]

Question

Are there other musicals that you like a lot ? ( If yes you're very welcome to yap about them 🙃 )

Im so behind on musicals ngl lmaooo and none of the ones I've watched ever caused such hyperfocus obsession as Epic, back in 2020 (?) I listened a LOT to hamiltion, its a really great musical, "Who lives who dies who tells your story" still makes me tear up as well as "quiet uptwn", and im still avoiding phillips songs, "Wait for it" is probably one of my favorite songs because a lot of the time I can really relate to Burrs sentiment, and "dear theodorisa" is so beautiful....mmhh, many many good songs there! could probabyl ramble a bunch more abotu them, but my love for them dont reach as deep as for epic i also like some songs from a few other musicals, evan hansen (they accompanied me a lot through 2021) , be more chill, heathers, .....OH yeah i love hazbin hotel, thats a lot of fun, but yeah for those kind of except hazbin bc its a show, i just tend to pick out my favorite songs and im not too much into the rest of them mhhhh besides that Ive been going to musicals and plays with my family for as long as i can remember to some local stages, theres a big-ish small one near my moms where we went regularly for years with elementary school and in private and at my dads we would go to the christmas play/musical almost ever year at the local stage there with my whole family there I miss that tbh, i gotta do that more often since im watching Casper and Mortius a lot right now who do a lot of muscial content im probably going to get to know a few others soon, like hadestown (been aware of it for a while but never really got into it) and SIX Oh I forgorrr, sometime around christmas or so a concept album for a christian musical came out and i was obssessed with that for a week or two, the vocals in that are REALLY good, its called "Of Ashes", and its a retelling of the leper and uh...a story about a whore...? (...yeah no im not that familiar with the bible) im also not that religious or christian but it rly is a great musical and has some amazingggg vocals my obssesion with epic makes me realize i shouldve really been a theatre kid, i was a choir kid up until 10th grade and i really miss that but i rly love acting, i just need a LOT of practice and i also suck at improvisation....im..trying, but its a looot easier when i have a script I can follow, thats why acitng out epic wiht my friend was so fun! bc i knew what was coming and because we didnt really discuss it long beforehand so stagefright and overthinking about being perceived didnt kick in seigjseg ...and it was just the two of us so that helped too...ANYWYA yeah i gotta go to cultural events like choir and theatre stuff soo much often and try to get active in them myself... pfffttt, here i was thinking my response to this would be very short bc "i dont know that many other musicals" .....thank you for the ask 💗

EDIT: the one BIG Stage Musical i watched was "starlight express" as a kid, that was a LOT of fun, i gotta go to one of these again

[fruitycasket]

Moira Saw The Truth (4 of 7)

Marvin laments about his chances of getting back to school. Later that night, while Moira sleeps, the unthinkable happens...

Word Count: 4,706

Notes: Obligatory links to the previous chapter, next chapter, and Ao3. Obligatory tag for @the-pastel-kitsune.

I came very close to editing this thing forever and ever but I managed to reach the "Fuck it we ball stage." This is another spot where the way the story lines up with CTAL can get shaky.

“They’re afraid of you. You have an innate power they’ve never seen beyond these halls…”

Ramesses slept on the couch even though Moira was willing to find him a spare mattress. She let him be without much fight. She did enough arguing with her aging parents about this sort of thing and couldn’t be bothered, especially not with Marvin there to watch them bicker. He did accept a couple of pillows and a blanket, at least, so she didn’t feel too unsavory about it.

The arrangement ended up working out okay, anyway. With Ramesses downstairs and Moira in her room, that left two checkpoints for Marvin to pass by if he got up in the middle of the night.

Moira slept soundly.

The next day before she went to work, she received a call back from the doctor she’d phoned and got an appointment scheduled for an exam, “to rule out any other factors that could be causing the issue.” That settled, she made breakfast for everyone.

Ramesses appeared to be an early riser by nature while Marvin tended to awaken once the smell of breakfast permeated the house (assuming he had nowhere to be), so they joined her in the kitchen soon after she started.

Marvin didn’t mind Ramesses. He’d never perceived him as much other than nice, a little strange, and prone to rambling, but he was well aware that his mother had other opinions. He wasn’t yet used to Moira and Ramesses existing in the same house on mostly peaceful terms. While they ate at opposite ends of the table, he sat between them, watching them like they were about to maul each other.

“You can stop looking at us like that,” Ramesses said, “I was actually invited this time.”

“Yeah, I know, but,” Marvin looked back at Moira, “it’s just weird. You’re getting along.”

Moira snorted. “Dark times call for drastic measures, Marvin.”

“Oh. There it is.”

“Ah, she’s only joking. We’re two peas in a pod, boy,” Ramesses said as he took a bite of his own breakfast, “Enough about us, though. How did you sleep last night?”

“Better. I don’t think I got up…”

“Good! I don’t recall you wandering past, either.”

Moira wondered if that really meant anything was fixed. She had no idea how lightly Ramesses slept, and still had no answers regarding the nature of Marvin’s condition. Maybe he’d still slipped past last night and they were both none the wiser.

Even more worrying was the fact that the bell was a lousy solution for this issue. What could she do if the White Cat, or Marvin, or whoever had more control started properly sneaking out? It would be no problem for Marvin to remove the bell. He could even skip the whole charade of tiptoeing through the house and teleport straight into the backyard.

Hell, shrinking the shrine down could just as easily make Marvin’s trances worse instead of better. (Which was probably why Ramesses let him keep it instead of trashing the whole thing completely, now that Moira thought about it. Perhaps there was a method to his madness after all.)

It could start tomorrow. What would she do once it got to that point? If no doctor could help?

She only realized it’d gone quiet when Marvin dropped his utensils on his plate. “Mum, has the school called you yet?”

“Oh, well…” Moira hadn’t been giving much thought to school the wake of everything that had happened. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, “They’re still debating, I suppose.”

Marvin slumped into his chair. “They’ll never let me back in.”

“Now, you don’t know that.”

“I… I bit Carl really hard.”

“Maybe he deserved it.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I was learning magic on my own already.”

Ramesses wagged his fork in the boy’s direction. “Don’t think like that. Archivism is a good job, you shouldn’t give up on it so easily.”

“Archivism isn’t a word.”

“My point stands.”

“You said they were scared of me, and that was when I was little. Now they’re going to think I’m the world’s best magician and a lunatic.”

“They let people meaner than you practice, Marvin.”

Marvin seemed to find it a cold comfort.

Moira cut in, “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, shall we? Stress is bad for healing bones.”

“But…” Marvin touched his face like he’d forgotten it still hadn’t healed yet. It was easy to see how it’d happened, his bruises were fading into his regular skin-tone nicely even though they were four or five days out from disappearing.

“I’m sure it looks fine now, but the doctor said it would take two weeks for the bones to rejoin. At least.”

“Yeah. I forgot.” Marvin pushed his plate away from him and stood, “I’ll be upstairs.”

Neither Moira nor Ramesses could think of anything to say. They watched him retreat in silence with matching, somber expressions until they heard his door open and close.

Certain he was gone, Moira whispered, “Ramesses, will they let him back in?”

“Depends on if they believe he can be controlled, I suppose. The Circle only tolerates nastiness if they know it’s at their whim. Not that Marvin is, but from the outside looking in, well…”

Moira cupped her face in her hands as she stared up at Marvin’s room. If the Circle thought he was a risk to the students and too powerful for their comfort, his chances of returning were as good as gone—hell, maybe it’d be for the best if he didn’t go back.

“It’s out of our hands,” Ramesses said, “We can only wait.”

Moira returned from work to find Ramesses sitting on her couch. According to him, Marvin hadn’t left his room much that day.

He came downstairs when he realized Moira was home, though, where he either kept to himself in the living room or fought with Ramesses over what to put on the television. Marvin wanted to see blood and guts, or at least something frightening, and Ramesses wanted to see anything that was opposite.

Their arguing was fervent but good-natured. Moira found herself relaxed enough to take an afternoon nap with no strange dreams in sight, and spent the day in higher spirits overall.

But that was during the daytime.

The night now brought with it grim connotations.

Marvin was up in his room by dark after an afternoon and a sundown of growing increasingly fidgety and irate. Moira gave him what medicine he had left, reminded him to put on his bell, and tried to wish him good night, but he was already closing the door on her as she said it.

“Try not to take it too hard,” Ramesses told her.

Moira was doing a miserable job of that. She lay in bed irritated and unable to sleep.

Her son was miserable and afraid, and there was nothing she could do about it.

It was both better and worse that it wasn’t her fault. It was nice to know this wasn’t a mistake on her end, but simultaneously harrowing to realize that Marvin had never stood a chance. Her son just had a dream, a random dream nobody had any control over, and it changed him in a way nobody but he could ever begin to understand.

Frustration manifested as tears. She pressed her palms against her eyes, determined not to cry. She’d already done enough of that the week Marvin had been hospitalized.

No more.

Marvin wasn’t tired.

He stared at his ceiling, begging himself to feel drowsy, at least, but his pleas went unanswered.

In the end, he had to admit to himself that he was afraid to sleep.

He was afraid that want, that deep, cavernous hunger would overtake him while he dreamt. Not that he thought what he’d done was wrong, it was hard to imagine how it could be. Nothing and nobody had gotten hurt, right? It was just a little shrine, and… and…

And he didn’t want to get in any more trouble. Not with his mum, or his peers, or the Circle. He understood that was undesirable, if nothing else.

The song compelled him the most when it was dark, and out of that information, Marvin had created a theory: What if sleeping also counted as being in the dark? Was that why he’d been getting up at night?

Maybe he was just thinking too hard about a creature he knew couldn’t be understood like that.

Frustration manifested as tears. He pressed his palms against his eyes until they dried up and tried to get to sleep again.

When that failed, he took to pacing around his room to wear himself down, moving carefully enough that his bell wouldn’t ring. He treated it like a game.

How many times could he tiptoe around his room like an idiot before he tripped on a speck of dust or rang his bell? There was only one way to find out!

He marched in circles for a while with no clue what he’d do next when this plan inevitably bored him, but he needn’t have worried. Something caught his ear.

The Cat’s music.

It was quiet, but steadily growing louder. It thrummed through the floorboards of the shed, the ground, and the foundations of the house like a whale’s call and a cat’s purr—if that whale had its vast throat split by a giant fishhook, and the cat was in a deep, wet cave. The sound made him smell thickened blood and taste wet, mouldy earth.

He had never heard his White Cat make a noise like that before. It made his heart jump in his chest, not with the usual leap of joy, but with fear.

Was the Cat mad that he was trying to keep away from the shed? It was not a creature he’d known to lash out in anger, but that didn’t mean it was incapable. Marvin had done plenty to annoy it since the night it clawed into his head, the kinds of childish things that drove Moira up the wall like neglecting to do chores or talking back when it was unwarranted.

Was this simply the Cat’s last straw?

He crept up to his window to peer outside as the strange, ululating sound filled his ears, and—

Marvin’s mouth went dry.

His heart pounded a million beats a second. His breaths came quick and shallow. He tried to convince himself he was seeing things, but the lie wouldn’t stick.

Carleton was in his backyard. Poking around his shed with a little crowd of people at his heels.

He was going to find the shrine, and all those other kids would see it and tell the entire school, and his life was going to be over.

And worse, he saw a familiar face in the shadows.

No, he thought, No, he wouldn’t be here.

The dark was playing tricks on him, surely. He and Sunday were friends. Sunday wouldn’t do that. Not to him.

Marvin stumbled away from his window and out of his room, his bell singing its obnoxious song in tune with the Cat's wail every time he moved. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. His mind ran itself in circles as it attempted to explain what he had seen in a way that wouldn’t break his heart.

Sunday wouldn’t do that.

Not to him.

Maybe Carleton had lied to him. Maybe there was some other mistake at play here. Maybe Sunday would explain it away the next time they met, and he and Marvin would laugh about it later.

That! That, there. His spirit found a handhold along the sides of the pit he was slipping into and lifted itself just enough to escape the depths, where he would lose all sense and curl up in a ball on the floor. He had to believe that now, if no time else.

Marvin willed his feet to work. He felt weightless and heavy all at once as he made his way to Moira’s room.

She opened the door before he could make it. “Marvin?” she asked, “Why are you”—

Marvin ran into her arms, “There’s people in the backyard.”

Moira knew that her odds against a gang of magical bullies were poor. She knew she ought to warn Ramesses to stay back, considering he was probably much frailer than her, but her rational mind wasn’t in control.

She was scared. And furious.

She commanded Marvin go back to his room and stay there until she told him to come out, then found an ancient, dented metal bat and stormed outside, shouting profanities with her weapon raised. Ramesses followed close behind her, brandishing the torch she’d used to show him the shrine in its full glory.

The brats scattered the second they saw her, fleeing into the night in different directions too fast for Moira to hope she could catch or identify them.

She glared at their retreating backs before hurrying to the shed to see what they had touched.

Sour air flowed from the open doors. Every time she breathed in, it skittered down her throat like a horde of soft-bodied insects, and when she breathed out, it passed through her skin more so than her mouth or nose. She wondered if it felt the same to Marvin, if he disliked the sensation as much as she did, or if he tolerated, or even liked it.

Why had this feeling gotten so much worse? Could it be possible that the shrine had reacted to the intruders’ presence?

She squinted her eyes like it would shield her from the invisible miasma. A minuscule layer of dust swirled in the air where someone had disturbed it from the shed floor. Their trespassers had gotten inside.

“Gone,” Moira brushed the hair from her face with a shaking hand, “They were looking for him, weren't they?”

“Might've been trying to catch him while he was in here,” Ramesses stepped past her and into the shed, his light filtering through the falling dust.

She followed him, growling under her breath. “Little bastards, they're lucky I didn't, I didn't—God, Ramesses, what if he'd gotten out of his room while they were here? They would've…”

“Mmh. Wouldn't have been good for either party.”

“He'd rip their bloody heads off with his teeth,” Moira hoped if she said it with enough conviction she’d believe it, but who was she kidding? Even if Marvin got scared enough to use his abilities to their fullest extent, it’d be a Pyrrhic victory. “They'd all deserve it,” she added, a little quieter.

“The last thing the lad needs is a bunch of assault or murder charges under his belt.” Ramesses gave the bat a pointed look. “That's the same for you, Madam Moira.”

“Don't madam me right now.” Moira looked around the shed for any more signs of tampering.

Immediately, she noticed what was out of place.

There was a trapdoor on the floor. It opened into a rough hewn depression dug into the soil under the shed, and a plain burlap bag with a thin cord of rope holding it shut was inside.

Moira lowered her bat. “What is that? Were they stealing… potatoes… from us?”

Ramesses raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you grow those?”

“It's the only thing I can think of. But that door,” Moira stepped up next to Ramesses and brought her weapon to bear again, “I've never seen it before.”

Ramesses thought for a moment. “Moira. When was the last time he got into the shed?”

“Not since you started helping me. And it was only that one time.”

“Was he ever doing anything inside?”

“When I caught him, I looked everywhere to see if he’d messed with anything and only found… you know… the poor things. When I saw that, I went to the doctors’ and called you.” She wracked her mind for any signs of the door she’d missed and could think of nothing.

When Marvin removed the invisibility spell, it had gone across the table and up the wall, not down to the floor. If it wasn’t hidden that way, it must have been built into the ground so seamlessly that she’d had no hope of finding it on her own.

“Lovely,” Ramesses set about inspecting the hole and its contents. It had been made with clawing fingers and a spade. The bottom was lined with a tattered, dark blanket, a trinket Marvin had known Moira wouldn’t miss when it mysteriously went missing from the towel closet. “This is new, then.”

The question of whether what Marvin had been doing at night counted as sleepwalking returned to the forefront of her mind. The magical nature of it made her wonder. “Could someone make that in their sleep? A child?”

“Stranger things have happened. But awake or asleep, why do all this?”

Moira had no concrete answer, but feared she had an idea.

Allowing her bat to drag along the ground, she followed behind Ramesses as he crouched down to inspect the bag further. As Moira got close to him, noise erupted from behind her, as if all the tools on the wall to her right were thrown aside by a gust of wind.

She whirled around, but only saw a rake move slightly back into position, nigh undisturbed. She definitely hadn’t imagined it, but…

“Did you hear that?” she asked Ramesses.

Ramesses looked back and squinted. “No. But my hearing's going, so…”

“What part of you isn't?”

“That was unnecessary.”

“Maybe a little. What was I saying?” Moira paused, “Do you know if Marvin is himself when he does these things? Is it really him or is he… sleeping is the wrong word. You know what I mean.”

“He’s not in a normal state of mind, I can say that for sure. Maybe to him, it feels as if he’s dreaming, but I don’t think I’d say he’s asleep either.”

“Dreaming? Having a nightmare, more like.”

Ramesses reached out and kneaded the bag, feeling around the top and sides.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I don't know. Feels warm, whatever it is, and it's not dead.”

Moira released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Ramesses stood the bag upright and grabbed the string keeping it closed. “Could you stand back a little? I’ve got less life to lose.”

Moira opened her mouth to object, then thought about it more and stopped. She took a couple steps back and held her bat tighter, swinging it upright in case it needed using.

Ramesses carefully worked the bag open, stopping every centimeter or so as if waiting for it to do something, until he had near completely undone the string and laid the contents bare.

There was something white and damp curled up inside, with too many paws and strangely bent limbs tucked close to the body. A creature whose fur seemed marked with stardust, that seemed to be both peacefully asleep and grimacing (or grinning?) with a mouthful of mismatched, needle-sharp teeth.

A white cat.

No, Moira knew, the White Cat.

“Oh…” Moira swallowed hard. Her bat dropped from her hand and the bag flinched. “Ramesses… what is…?”

Ramesses didn't reply. He tied the bag shut and slipped it back into the trapdoor, then shut it, and stood on shaking legs. Without a word, he started piling things onto the door: First a chair, and then any bags within reach.

Moira did not need further instruction on this matter. She joined him in his task, the both of them breathing only five words to each other the entire time:

“Not too loud, Moira,” and… “Sorry.”

When they were done, they both stood near the exit, watching the trapdoor for signs of movement.

Moira found herself wishing it really had been a bag of dead animals. Dead cats, even. “What do we do?”

“Help me up.” Ramesses reached out a hand, and as Moira stood and pulled him to his feet, he continued to speak. “I know what you're thinking, now, but this isn't your fault, this is”—

Caught between horror and a growing, simmering anger, she squeezed Ramesses’s shoulders and muttered, “I hope I'll believe that one day, but right now I just need to understand. Did you know…?”

Ramesses squeezed her hands in return, but now he wasn't quite looking her in the eye. “Tea first. You look like you need it. We worry about everything else tomorrow. What do you think?”

“Tea first, yeah. And an aspirin.”

They left in as quiet a hurry as they could manage. The same lock that had been used to keep the back doors of the house shut was repurposed to keep the White Cat in the shed.

Moira doubted it would stop the creature, but it made them both feel better.

Moira waited to ask him until they were inside and she had turned the electric kettle on, where she felt a modicum safer despite knowing she was fooling herself.

“Ramesses, be honest,” she paced between her kitchen and the living room, circling him like a shark, “Did you know?”

“I… suspected.”

Moira lit up with a flash of anger. Some days she wanted to kick his stupid wrinkled head like a football. “You knew! Of course you bloody did, Ramesses, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I didn’t want you to panic and I was trying to”—

“To protect Marvin, am I right? God you”—Moira let herself fume for a few seconds, and found her words as fear overtook anger again. “That’s it, isn’t it? The White Cat? It’s what made him do those things.”

“Most likely.”

“Did he… Did Marvin… Ramesses don’t lie to me again. Is it true, what the kids say about him at school?”

Ramesses looked away from her and spoke in an uncharacteristically small voice, “Not quite. We can’t ever know what really happened to those cats, and I don’t think we want to, but the way Marvin told it to me…”

Oh, of course Marvin had told him. Was this one of the secrets he’d been made to keep?

“…he ‘gave to them to Cat’.”

“I thought we were done with hiding things, Ramesses.”

“I’m not hiding anything this time! I wanted him to elaborate, Moira, I really did, but he didn’t seem to understand what I was asking. He said he gave the cats to the Cat, somehow, and now they’re that thing. I don’t think he knows what he did or why. Only that creature knows why its here and what it wants, and that’s something we’re unlikely to comprehend without going mad.”

“More mad in your case,” Moira spat.

“That’s not helping anything and you know it.”

“I know!” Moira threw her hands up, “But I… I…” Her anger was in its death throes. She might have hated Ramesses in this moment but she knew, deep down, he was doing his best to help, and for once he was as out of his depth as Moira was.

Ramesses studied her face for a second before looking away. “I’m scared too, you know.”

Moira turned away from him. Her eyes fell on her electric kettle, which had finished its work. “How do you like your tea, Ramesses?”

“With as much sugar as you can fit, please.”

“Disgusting.”

“How do you drink yours?”

“Black. With a spot of cream.”

“Sounds like you’ve got no right to talk.”

Moira snorted as she made herself and Ramesses their respective drinks. “What do we do now?”

Ramesses frowned. “We might have to tell someone.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“That creature could be friendly, but if it isn’t, we’d be up a creek without a paddle. Marvin, especially.”

“Right. And what will they do to Marvin if they find out he made that? Whoever you tell, they’ll want to know where it came from, and if they find that out…”

“At the end of the day, it’s a gamble both ways. If we leave the Cat in the shed, we’re betting that we can keep it from ever getting out—and we’re betting that if it does escape, it won’t be so bad. If we tell the Circle, we’re hoping that whatever they’ll do to him won’t be worse than what the Cat would do, and that they can actually protect him to begin with.”

Moira didn’t like the odds of either option. She drummed her fingers against her teacup before picking it up alongside Ramesses’s and setting both on the table. “I’ll tell Marvin it’s safe.”

“You go on ahead,” Ramesses nodded towards the stairs, and Moira left him to knock gently on Marvin’s door.

She got no answer. The door was unlocked, so she announced she was coming in and entered.

Inside, Marvin was staring outside at the shed, elbows propped up on the windowsill. Before she could say anything, he whispered faintly, “Why did you lock the doors?”

Moira suspected he already knew. She walked up to him, stopping when she was well within his peripheral vision and plainly visible in the window’s reflection, but he didn’t look at her. At least he wasn’t running off again. “You were hiding something from me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think any of those boys saw it.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

Their silence stretched on for a while. Moira supposed it was too much to ask that Marvin tell her what the hell he’d buried in her shed, at least for the moment.

“We can talk about it tomorrow if you don’t want to speak about it now,” she said, “but we have to talk about it.”

Marvin pushed himself away from the window, finally looking Moira in the eye. “What are you going to do with it?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Are you going to tell the Circle?”

That gave Moira pause. She could hear it in his voice, see it in his wide eyes, he was terrified of the prospect. It pained her to give him a noncommittal answer: “I… don’t know that either.”

Marvin took a deep breath. “It’s not anything bad. I don’t know how it looks to you but the Cat wouldn’t hurt a fly. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Every instinct Moira had told her otherwise. It screamed at her that the creature in the bag was not to be trusted, but hearing Marvin plead with her about it was throwing her for a loop. He spoke about the Cat like it was… well… a real stray cat, a small, harmless thing he’d brought in from the cold and now desperately wanted to keep.

Even Ramesses had admitted they had no proof the Cat was evil, just that it looked menacing, did not particularly value cat life, and possessed an unearthly amount of magical power.

“I can… Marvin… I…” Moira said, “Marvin, if people find out I have to say something. I can’t put it’s safety over yours. And I don’t want you to let it out just yet, either.”

Marvin scrutinized her for a moment. “You won’t say anything?”

“No.”

He pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Moira said. She kissed the top of his head, but kept an eye on the shed outside, unsure of if she’d made the right choice, or that her assurance that their intruders hadn’t seen the Cat was true. “Will you be alright up here by yourself for tonight?”

“I think,” Marvin said, “I’ll try to get some sleep.” He pulled away from her and rubbed his eyes.

“Would you like some tea before bed?”

“No, I’m okay. Good night.”

She left. Marvin closed the door behind her.

Back downstairs, Ramesses was waiting. “Made your choice?”

“I don’t know if it was the right one. But he’s convinced the Cat doesn’t mean anyone harm and he was petrefied of the Magic Circle finding out, so I told him I would keep it a secret if it stayed under the shed.”

Ramesses’s answer was unusually guarded, “Very well.” He looked away from her, to the outside.

Moira followed his gaze.

All was still and quiet in the backyard.

They sat, thinking about their conundrum for a long while.