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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 months

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wake me from this eternal slumber, rumor has it, a kiss is all it takes; i'm no fairytale but your lips might make me one.

jh86 x reader: you've sworn off frat boys, but maybe just one more?

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f) yay! we love exceptions, fingering, hair pulling and lips and limbs and all my usual stuff (you guys know what i'm about). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: well, favorites, my ex was in pike in undergrad, so you can thank him for 18k worth of a fantasy-level frat romance (i know, it's too much, i need to cut it down, but i can't. this is how i'm dealing with my breakup. leave me be). and, actually, don't thank him. thank me, because i worked really, really hard on this <3. there are a billion things that i ask you to take for granted, like how i included too many side characters, so i know it will be confusing, but i needed sleazy nh13 in there, okay? and i needed starboy pitcher lh43, and cc22 falling for his postgame reporter, and tz11 not being able to catch, and qh43 being a pawn in a president x president love story featuring alex turcotte. all of it was necessary for my healing process. i wanted to write something in which someone can drop into your life and rewrite all of the things you believe to be true. some star-crossed shit. so, this is my best shot. what is love, after all, but leaving your window open for fratboy jh86 to climb into? i was never actually in greek life, so all of this is based on what my friends have told me (sam is based on my irl best friend, fun fact). forgive me for any plot holes and inconsistencies. please, please, tell me what you think, because i love when you do, and tell me what you want next. thank you for your support. thank you for indulging my silly whims and most delusional daydreams. tell your snakes i love them. getting pretty busy up here in the real world, but until next time. go canucks. all my love).

this day, the first day of classes, had been a real disaster, honestly. what had been the worse part, even? it was hard to decide, with so many natural contenders.

would it be the alarm clock of your roommate, which had gone off for twenty minutes, until you had to get up yourself and shake her awake? or maybe the pop quiz in your lecture, on the very first day, when you forgot to do the reading? but, no, we can't forget the back to back to back texts from that guy, the one who mistook your general friendliness as romantic interest.

it had been a terrible day, genuinely, but this might be the worst of it, you thought, as you stood outside the tke house, on the sidewalk, waiting for your friends. your friends, who said they would be out ten minutes ago.

it was getting kind of brisk outside, and your outfit, compliant with the finance bros and business hoes theme, wasn't keeping you very warm. you looked down at your phone, tried to will a text from one of them into existence. you just wanted to go home, which, honestly, you probably should have already done by now. your sorority house was maybe a five minute walk down the row, but you didn't want to abandon your friends, and you didn't really want to make the walk alone, in the dark.

you could go back inside, you knew. but, this day had sucked, and you weren't in the mood to dance on an elevated surface tonight.

you opened the text conversation with your roommate, typed almost out? and hit send, before a deep voice pulled your head up.

"miss, is that an open container?" you looked up to find a stout officer of campus security shining his flashlight on you and your red plastic cup.

of course, because today was terrible, today would be the day that security cracks down on their no-open-containers-on-the-row rule. of course.

you looked into your solo cup, swirled around the pink liquid. what could you even say this was? the officer could probably smell the vodka in it from where he stood, a few feet away. honestly, it was probably better to just come clean. you'd get, what, a citation? hopefully a warning, if you could conjure up some tears?

you sighed, opened your mouth to spew some sob story, but you were cut off by some goofy voice coming from the door.

"there you are, baby!"

both you and the officer turned to face the voice, now an approaching figure.

your eyes narrowed as you tried to make out a face from the dim street light. you certainly were not anyone's baby. and you were fairly certain the only people who could have been wondering where you were would be the friends you came with, who had much more feminine voices.

before you could tell this guy he had the wrong idea, though, he slung a heavy arm around your shoulders, used it to pull you close to him before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, gentle, doting, fleeting.

you were about to shove this guy off of you, as he had obviously mistaken you for someone else.

"thanks for holding my drink for me," he said, then, taking your cup from your hand and downing it in one go.

you swallowed, your mind buzzing, not just with confusion but with the weight of his body against yours, the ghost of heat from his lips on your temple, the slightly muddled sandalwood scent of him so close. was he covering for you, this stranger? this stranger, who definitely could see your face, now, so there was no one he could be mistaking you for.

was he just being nice?

"'course, baby," you mustered, letting yourself lean into his embrace, hooking an arm around his waist. if he was going to get this officer off of your back, you'd let him.

your savior turned to face the shorter man in front of you both, as if noticing him for the first time. "oh, good evening, officer," he said, ever the gentleman. "can i help you?"

as the officer explained his presence with a gruff tone, you turned your neck to look at the face of the man who currently had his arm around you, whose lips on your forehead you could still feel like a purpling bruise.

you looked up at him, and your stomach flipped, because he was just so pretty. so much so that it flooded your gaze, made him hard to take in all at once. that fairytale profile, cut jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft slope of a nose. long, dark lashes that framed light blue eyes. grown out hair that curled around the brim of his backwards baseball cap, which read the letters tke in bold font. full, pink lips you had the sudden urge to tug on with your teeth.

uh oh, the gossip in your head whispered to her friends. we've seen this before. we know how this ends.

you could have shushed her.

"as you can see, officer, there's no liquid here, at least not anymore," the tke boy above you said with the voice of an experienced sweet-talker, smooth and sugary. "we wish we could be of more help, don't we, baby?"

he turned his gaze down to you, meeting your eyes directly for the first time. oceanic amusement met your careful skepticism, so electric and charged you swore the streetlight above you began to flicker.

"sure do," you said, reluctantly fixing your gaze on the officer and away from the mesmerizing face next to you.

the short man looked unconvinced, but switched his flashlight off anyways.

"have a good night, sir," you added, to which he muttered something and walked in the other direction.

you waited until he was out of earshot before lifting that warm arm from around your shoulders, crossing your own arms over your chest. "right," you began, "so, do i know you, or something?"

he tilted his head, let a bemused smile slant across his face, completely lopsided, completely endearing. "or something," he said, his eyes glinting, brimming over with mirth.

you furrowed your brow, shifted on your feet. "why did you come out here, then?" you asked. "and what was that whole act for?"

he sucked on his teeth for a moment, during which you took in his whole frame, his wide shoulders, tall build, strong stance.

uh oh is right, you thought to yourself, clasping your hands behind your back.

he shrugged, the movement making the muscles in his shoulders tense. you looked at your feet. "saw you come out here by yourself," he said, simply. "just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

you narrowed your eyes, which made his gaze shimmer again.

"then i saw you with the security guy, and he's been camping out recently for their open container policy, so i figured i'd-"

"you figured you'd pretend that we're together?" you raised a brow. "awful dramatic, don't you think? could have just smacked the cup from my hand." you cringed internally as soon as you said this. you'd felt his hand on your side, and there was no chance that soft touch was capable of anything so harsh.

he just took a step closer to you, though, and part of you wanted to back away, but you didn't. you couldn't. "maybe i had selfish motives," he added, "maybe i wanted him to think i could pull a pretty girl like you, hm?"

you gave a slight scoff, the smallest shake of your head, before looking up at him again, finding him closer, looking at you like you were something special. something he wouldn't find again.

"okay, you can turn off the charm, now," you warned, more for your own sake than his. "what's your name?"

he stuck out his hand to shake yours, which felt wholly odd, given you could still feel his lips on your skin, like a brand, a scar. "i'm jack," he said, and you took his hand, gave it a shake as you offered him your own name in return.

"and you're in tke?" you asked, half-hoping he would laugh, nod you off, say that fraternities were stupid. hoping he wouldn't be a frat brother, so that he might still be on the table. so that you wouldn't have to walk away from him knowing exactly how he would hurt you if you gave him too much of a chance, too much of yourself.

he nodded though, and you could have sighed in disappointment. he was so, so pretty, but pretty wasn't good enough for your no frat boys rule. not after last time. "are you in a sorority?"

"no," you said immediately, shaking your head. this was a lie, you were in alpha phi, but you were hoping he'd lose interest as soon as you denied it, as so many greek-life boys did.

the light didn't blink out from jack's eyes though. "you must have a walk ahead of you then, if you're not on the row," he said. "i'll walk with you, it's dark."

you peered up at him, dubious. what was his angle, here? what would he have over you if you said yes?

luckily, you didn't have to answer, because you heard your roommate's voice from the door, now walking towards you. "'m so sorry, didn't see your text," she said, walking right past jack and pulling you in for a hug. "of course we can go. let's go back to the house, yeah?"

you nodded, returned her hug.

"the house?" jack's voice asked, to which your roommate pulled away from you, looked at him.

"yeah, a-phi," she said, skeptical. "um, who is this?" she elbowed you.

"this is jack," you explained, "he saved me from a safety citation. jack, this is my roommate, sam."

he nodded to her, which she returned. if jack had put together that you had just lied to his face about being in greek life, he didn't call you out on it, only smiling that goofy grin at you again, the one that awoke butterflies in your stomach, the one that had the street light rolling its eyes at you.

"well, jack, we're off," sam said, linking her arm in yours.

"goodnight, ladies," he said as the two of you set off down the sidewalk. "until you next need saving, baby."

you shook in a disbelieving laugh.

"baby?" sam whisper-screamed at you.

"i'll explain later," you told her.

you did explain later, that night, when the two of you were taking off your makeup in your mirroring vanities.

"i'm sorry, what?" sam said when you had finished recalling the night. "he quite literally kissed you?"

you flushed, waved her off. "barely," you said, "on the head."

"okay, sure," she mused, patting toner into her face. "sure, as if this isn't the longest you've talked about a guy since last year!"

you sighed. "it doesn't matter," you said, trying to make yourself believe it. "he's in tke. and i've sworn off frat guys, you know this."

"oh, i know this," she replied, "but rules are made to be broken."

"that's not right," you sing-songed.

"don't talk back to your president," she sung right back at you, using her position in the sorority as a trump-card, as she was so prone to doing.

"he's probably just like the rest of them," you reminded her, and yourself, "he's charming and sweet and lovely until he gets what he wants, and then he's gone."

the words hurt as you spoke them, jagged and sharp in your throat, like shards of glass. it hurt to think about your history with frat guys, the ones you'd let get close to you.

the guy from pike whom you had been seeing, sort of, for half a year, who had relished in the chase of it all, been so caring until you finally slept with him. and then he acted like you were nothing, not even worth a text. he had acted like you were crazy, delusional, for thinking your relationship went any deeper than sex.

he had all but laughed at you when you had suggested anything different. "i don't, like, do labels," he had told you. "you know that, right?"

you shuddered, now, thinking about how stupid, how utterly childish he had made you feel. thinking about how you had given the next guy, the one from lambda, a chance, about how he had done the same thing, with slightly different words, on a slightly different timeline.

you refused to feel that way again.

sam just shrugged. "i don't know, love," she said, "the way he was looking at you, back there, i swear, it was special."

you scrunched up your nose. "i'm not changing my mind. it's not worth it. he's not worth it."

something in the back of your mind twisted, though, because there was a trace of disbelief in your tone.

"whatever you say," sam said.

"now, tell me about your progress on project peace treaty," you said, hoping to change the subject, referring to sam's crush on the tke president.

one of your other friends had come up with the moniker after sam had been voted president herself, like a relationship between the two leaders would be some kind of deal between nations.

sam pretended to faint in her chair. "i don't know how much more obvious i can be," she whined. "i swear, i can't tell if he's just quiet or if he wants me to get the fuck away from him."

you rolled your eyes. "there's no way he's not into you," you said, and you meant it - sam was your best friend, and the best person you knew. if there was a way not to like her, you were unfamiliar with it.

she just shook her head. "you haven't talked to alex," she said, solemn. "he's, like, impossible to read." she shot you a look. "not all of us can have a tke brother wrapped around our finger after meeting once."

you threw a pillow at her, laughed her off, tried not to dream that night about starry blue eyes and soft lips on your temple.

the week passed, slowly, defined by welcome back mixers and new classes, new faces.

before you knew it, it was friday. you were exhausted, but you only had two classes today, the first of which passed quickly, the second of which was ballroom dance 101.

you had already had your first ballroom class on wednesday, so you knew it was fairly laid back, a good way to get some unit credits, a place to move around a bit before the weekend. you were, however, taking it alone. sam had been planning on taking it with you, but then an opening for a class she really needed had come up, and you had insisted you'd be fine on your own, that obviously her major credits were more important than this random elective dance class.

and it was fine, truly, if not a little less fun without her there. you waited patiently for the instructor to arrive, watching the little circles of friends stretch and chat. you leaned your back against the wall, crossed your arms over your chest, let your mind slow until you felt a presence next to you.

you glanced to your left, felt your heart stutter as you did a double take. "jack?" you asked, almost incredulous. if he looked pretty in the night, he looked downright distracting in the daylight, today in khakis and a polo shirt.

"hey, baby," he said, maybe a trace of smugness in his voice as he mirrored your lean, your posture. "how're you?"

this felt like a trap. he felt like a trap. your eyes narrowed. "you're in ballroom? since when?"

"since i switched into it, yesterday," he answered, simply and plainly, before his mouth quirked up. "is that what the experts are callin' it? just 'ballroom?'" he gave a facetious nod. "i like it. drop the 'dance,' 's too bulky."

you rolled your eyes, but laughed nonetheless. "we went over this kind of expert vocabulary on day one," you said with a shrug, "sorry you missed it."

the instructor clapped her hands, signaling her arrival, before beginning a stretching sequence on the floor.

"you're gonna dance in khakis?" you whispered to jack, who had taken the spot next to you as you both leaned forward to touch your toes.

"was i supposed to bring my tux?" he asked, which made you choke down a laugh. "or are we doing some kind of breakdancing i'm unaware of?"

"what, you don't have your handstand mastered?" you teased, "if you insist, but that's the foundation we're building from, just warning you."

"students, focus!" the instructor demanded, shooting you a glare, which you acknowledged with a nod before sharing a guilty smile with jack, like kids caught laughing too hard on the field trip bus.

after class, the both of you were planning on walking back to the row, so you just walked together, chatted pleasantly. the street was pretty in the daylight in a way it wasn't at night. there was something to be said, you thought, about being able to see everything clearly, about knowing exactly what you were looking at. and sure, there was beauty in mystery, and there was beauty in danger, but there was beauty in comfort, too.

"so, do you think i could get your number?" jack said, as you both turned the corner, the tke house now in clear view. his smile was easy. "for all the questions 'm gonna have about the tango?"

you let out a little laugh, thought for a moment. it was just your number, after all, and he said it was for class. it probably didn't mean anything. it was probably safe. "okay," you said, taking out your phone, handing it to him, "sure." your mouth quirked up as he put in his information, sent himself a text. "don't know how much help 'm gonna be, though."

he handed your phone back to you, that halfway grin on his pretty face. "you're right," he said, making his way towards his front door. "if anything, you'll just distract me from the steps, lookin' like that and all."

you looked down, shook your head, felt the gentle heat of a blush on your face. "focus up, then," you chided, gripping the straps of your backpack.

"oh, i'm focused, baby," he called out, "just not on dance."

you rolled your eyes at him as he smiled at your reaction, both of you saying your goodbyes. you heard his front door shut only when you had completely turned away, began to walk the few houses down the street.

when you got back to your room, you flopped down on your bed, breathing into your soft comforter, until you heard the door swing open again. you looked up.

"all good?" sam asked, raising a brow. she threw her bag and keys on the floor by her desk, slipped off her shoes, hopped up onto her bed, opposite yours.

"yeah," you said, sighed, then laughed, short and breathy. "remember that guy from last weekend?"

her eyes went wide, now alert. her posture straightened. "uh, your valiant hero in the face of danger? of course."

you laughed, then, more naturally this time, hugged a pillow to your chest. "he's in my dance class." you looked down at your hand, examined your fingernails. "and i gave him my number."

sam squinted at you. "okay," she said, slowly. "i know what i think about this, i think you know what i think about this." she tugged her hair elastic down, freeing her hair from the ponytail it had been in. "what do you think about this?"

you sucked on your teeth, thought for a moment. "i don't know," you said. "i guess i'm just confused. and worried. and i don't think i want him to text me first, but i also kind of want-"

a buzz from your phone interrupted you, and sam tilted her head back and groaned. "that's him, isn't it?" she asked. "that's definitely him."

and it shouldn't have been, you thought, there was no way it was him, because it had been what, ten minutes? you knew frat guys, and you knew it couldn't be him.

it was.

forgot to ask if you were coming tonight, he had texted, followed by told you you're distracting lol.

"i knew it," sam said, shaking her head, "i'm like an oracle. it's a gift, i know, but it's also a burden." she gestured for you to speak. "what's he say?"

"asked if i'm coming tonight," you said, looking up at her, "in all lowercase. and he said lol."

she waved you off. "non-issue," she declared.

"but, like," you pushed, giving her a look, "who taught him to use all lowercase?"

"doesn't matter," sam continued, "he called you baby and kissed you on the forehead. he gets a lowercase pass."

"so you're the oracle and the lawmaker?" you asked, teasing.

sam nodded seriously. "and the president," she finished.

you laughed, then sighed, began typing.

"what're you saying?" sam asked, leaning forward on her bed, as if she would be able to read your screen.

"just that 'm not going," you said. not tonight sry, you sent, followed by you might want to get that distraction thing checked out.

sam nodded. "what was their theme tonight? something bad, right?"

"country bros and rodeo hoes," you answered with a grimace.

"who the hell is in their little think tank?" sam asked, shaking her head, "'m gonna tell alex if they do the bros/hoes thing again a phi isn't coming."

you were nodding in agreement when your phone buzzed again. then you'll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow? he had asked, followed by any chance you wanna come watch my friends' baseball fall game?, followed by maybe more exposure will help w my distraction problem :).

you bit your lip, looked up at sam. "what?" she asked.

"have plans tomorrow morning?" you said as you typed. thanks for the invite, you sent, followed by can i bring sam? and can you bring alex?

"of course not," sam said, "it's saturday morning."

as long as you'll be there, you can bring anyone you want, he texted back, followed by alex is in!

see you there :) you said in a final response.

the field @ 9, he sent, followed by thank you!

your brow furrowed at this, because what was he thanking you for? what had you promised him, in this interaction, besides just seeing him? surely that wasn't enough to warrant a thank you?

you cleared your throat, tossed your phone aside. "well, you do now," you said to sam. "we're going to baseball tomorrow morning."

sam groaned. "those guys suck."

"alex is coming," you tried.

"i love baseball!" sam said, straightening again. "and soph is covering it for the paper, so we can support her, too."

you laughed. "so easily convinced, eh?"

"you don't wanna talk to me about being easily persuaded," she sing-songed. visions of easy grins and high cheekbones flashed across your mind, and you knew she was right, so you let it rest.

the next morning, as the two of you walked to the baseball field, sam was reminding you about the plight of being the president.

"we've warned her a million times about what she's posting," she told you, out of breath, referring to one of the freshman who didn't seem to understand your house's social media rules. "i don't know how many times i can remind her politely before i just start smacking cans out of her hand when someone takes their phone out."

you laughed as you rounded the corner by the field entrance. "i say resort to violence," you said, "i hear it's always the answer."

sam groaned while you smiled. "look, there they are," you whispered, spotting him and jack over by the stands. suddenly all evidence of sam's unhappiness was mysteriously gone. her face was the image of alert interest. you imagined you probably looked a little more nervous as you approached where they were standing.

"gentlemen," sam greeted the pair of them as you approached. "good to see you." she shot a wink alex's way. he appeared completely unaffected. "'specially you, handsome."

you and jack shared a gentle smile at sam's boldness, and it felt like a secret language, the kind you make up with your friend during a playdate, the kind everyone understands but that feels extra special, anyways.

"hi, sam," alex said, plainly, but you caught the faintest of a pleased look in his eyes before he nodded to you in greeting.

"thanks for coming," jack said, although when he said it he was speaking directly to you. there was a fluttery feeling in your stomach that you scolded into submission. then he offered you his arm, and you decided that the butterflies were probably here to stay, at least for now. "shall we?"

you exhaled, had the feeling that touching his extended arm would be like touching a loaded gun, dangerous and daunting, but you took it anyways, found him warm and comfortable against your side as you fell into step together. "i'm, uh," you started, testing your limits, "i'm happy you texted."

jack shook his hair from his face. his returning smile was nothing short of stunning. "yeah?" he asked, which had your mouth feeling a bit dry. "made you happy?" this fact seemed to make him especially pleased, proud.

"what, no arm for me, al?" came sam's abrupt voice from behind you. alex appeared horrified by this nickname. "that's fine, i have enough arms, anyways. three would be overdoing it, i think."

you coughed, turned your gaze back to jack. you felt the force of his attention like a suckerpunch to the stomach. "yeah, i, um," you tried, "thanks, i guess. for inviting us."

his soft features lit up with amusement at your uncertainty, obvious discomfort. he appeared just on the verge of laughter, but it didn't really feel like he was laughing at you, somehow. you knew what being on the bad end of joke was like, and this didn't feel like that. maybe you were just distracted by how his mouth curved around his almost-laugh, slow and delighted. "of course, baby," he said, and you sort of wished he would stop calling you that. for your mental well-being, he really needed to stop calling you that. he tugged you slightly closer to him as you made your way towards some empty seats in the stands. "can i have the seat next to you?"

and you let out a little laugh, then, as you sat down, made a motion as if to wipe off the seat to your left. "all yours," you said.

he hummed, something sparking in his eyes as he sat down, which had you rethinking your words, the gravity of them. you couldn't bring yourself to regret them, though, if you were honest. how could you regret them, when they made him look at you like this? like there was some worldly truth in the blush on your cheeks?

the cracking sound of a bat pulled you from your daze. "so, who do you know on the team?" you asked, eager to push the conversation towards something safer, something that didn't have your neck feeling hot, didn't make the arm rest between the two of you feel like something cruel.

he turned his head towards the field slowly, reluctantly. "11, 22," he said, pointing to where they stood, one tall, the other shorter, broader. "trevor and cole." he smiled. "they aren't very good."

you huffed a laugh. "they're on a d1 team," you chided, "so they must not be terrible."

"we still have no idea how they made the team," jack replied, shaking his head. "you'll see, swear trev can't catch a ball."

"and they only took on cole 'cause he's good with media," alex added from the seat on the other side of jack. "he's their backup backup catcher."

sam snapped her fingers. "cole, like cole caufield?" she asked, her eyes widening when alex nodded. sam looked at you. "he's the one soph's been talkin' about. the one she interviews all the time for the paper."

you laughed in recognition. your friend sophie covered almost every baseball game, and apparently a certain backup backup catcher had been giving her a lot of grief whenever she tried to get a useable quote.

"oh, and 43," jack said, pointing to the lanky kid on the pitcher's mound. his smile turned bashful. "'s luke, my younger brother."

your stomach flipped at how his gaze had softened. "didn't know you had siblings," you said, although you didn't know much about him, so you guessed that made sense.

he just nodded. "older brother, too, you might know him, actually."

"'s in tke with you?" you asked, to which jack made some affirmative sound.

"yeah," he said, "quinn, 's close with nico."

you hummed in recognition, picturing their faces, noticing the similarities. "right," you said, "you guys do look similar."

his smile turned indulgent as he tilted his head. "'m better looking though, right, baby?" he asked, and his voice dripped with confidence, but you felt a strange compulsion to reassure him, anyways, could somehow sense that this was important.

so you just ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, gauging what to say, here, how much you could reveal. "i think you're pretty, jack," you said, and it was soft, low, for him. your eyes caught on his for a blazing second. "you know i do." and it was true, you knew he was aware of the way he affected you.

his gaze grew hooded for a moment, which terrified you, a horror-movie jump scare, a reminder of the reason you made your no-frat-boy rule in the first place.

luckily, as always, sam had something to say. she scoffed. "don't know about that," she said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs over the seat in front of her. "quinn's a straight ten." she gave a satisfied smile, looked to her right. "say, al, d'you think you could set me up with him? you guys are close, right?"

alex didn't answer right away. he shifted slightly in his seat.

"c'mon, from one president to another, think you could help me out?" sam gave a dreamy sort of sigh. "he's got a real face on him, and ever since he's grown out his hair-"

"'m not setting you up with him," was alex's short reply, cutting sam off, not quite looking at her.

you knocked jack's knee with your own, mirroring smiles on your faces.

sam just pouted as the game started. "don't have to be such an ass about it," she said, but you could tell by her face that she had accomplished exactly what she had set out to.

you weren't really a baseball fan, but this particular game flew by, probably because of the shaggy-haired, full-lipped person sitting to your left.

the slow pace of the game was cut with conversations about the party tke threw last night (it was lame, jack insisted, and his knowing, shy grin gave you a hint as to the reason why), which led to a conversation about who picks the themes (a board of esteemed individuals, apparently).

"i know it's just nico," sam said, rolling her eyes. "tell him that if he keeps up with the bros and hoes thing a phi isn't coming."

this actually appeared to alarm alex. "you're not serious," he said.

"as death," sam said, nodding.

alex promptly took out his phone and started to text someone. you had the sneaking suspicion it was nico.

jack asked about what you did last night, which led you to talking about your favorite movies.

"you've never seen scream?" you asked, practically confused.

he just shook his head, something glinting in his eyes.

you scoffed. "you have to. it's the best."

"you'll have to show it to me, sometime, then," was his response, which had you blushing, which had you wanting to.

cole never went in, as was expected. he seemed to spend the majority of his time goofing off in the dugout, throwing paper cups at his teammates, then turning away like he had no idea how they'd been hit.

luke threw a great game. he was the kind of player that drew your attention, that you just knew was good, even if you didn't know anything about the sport.

trevor only batted once (he leaned his shoulder into the pitch and took his walk). as an outfielder, he didn't see a ton of action, only getting one real shot at a catch, of course fumbling an easy out, much to the dismay of his teammates.

cole put his head in his hands but welcomed his friend back to the dugout with open arms.

the game ended with a win for the good guys, and you found yourself sticking around, all because jack wanted to wait to congratulate his friends and brother. he extended a hand to you to help you up from your seat, his grip firm and warm against your palm.

your group of four walked down to where the players would exit. you were surprised to find the silence especially comfortable, easy.

at some point, jack slapped his thigh, lightly. "i meant to ask you, baby, what's your coffee order?"

you gave him a confused sort of look. "just hot coffee with oat milk," you answered, almost wary. "why?"

"for next time," he answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world, maybe the most obvious.

you swallowed down how touched you were by this. it felt like ginger, like something you know is good for you but that feels foreign, harsh, anyways. "how do you like your coffee, then?" you asked.

"sweet," he answered, with a smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "really, really sweet."

a chaotic presence shook you both from the haze you'd settled into. "oh, hey, guys." you turned, found your friend sophie there, hands full with a clipboard and her bag and a voice recorder. she pushed her hair from her face. "how's it going?"

"all good, soph," sam answered. "you?"

sophie blew out a breath. "will be good once i get a couple quotes," she said, "just hope they don't give me twenty-two. readers want quotes from impact players, and-"

"sayin' 'm not an impact player, love?" came a goofy approaching voice. you turned again to see cole coming out of the now open exit gate.

sophie groaned. "tell me they're giving me someone else," she pleaded, to which cole grinned wider. "tell me they're giving me someone who played, today."

cole rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles. "might wanna turn on your recorder," he advised, "you're gonna wanna get this."

sophie just rolled her eyes and pulled him to the side, beginning a short interview about the game as you continued to wait.

shortly after, trevor walked out, grinning when he registered the group of you. jack slung an arm around your shoulders as his friend approached, which you noticed. which you would have questioned, maybe, if he didn't pull you into his side in the best of ways, if his touch didn't make you basically delirious. so delirious that you reached a hand up to hold his, dangling from your shoulder.

you could almost hear his satisfied smile as trevor clapped alex on the shoulder in greeting. "packed the stands for us, eh?" he asked, to which alex laughed.

it was the most emotion you'd seen from him. sam appeared very confused, crossed her arms over her chest. "great game," she said.

"yeah," jack continued. "my favorite part was that gorgeous catch in the sixth." he nodded. "seamless."

trevor scoffed, waved jack off. "almost had that one," he insisted. "was this close." he brought two fingers up to show just how close he had been to making that catch.

"you were not," came another voice. you recognized the tall figure as jack's younger brother.

jack clapped his hand in a handshake, congratulated him on the win. you echoed the sentiment, stuck out your hand in greeting, which he shook. "really good game," you said, "i'm-"

"know who you are," luke said, to which you furrowed your brow.

"how?" you asked. luke shared a look with his brother, halfway amused, halfway bored.

jack cleared his throat. "might've mentioned you," he said, but it came out like a mumble, a murmur into your hair.

your heart felt too big for your chest, for a moment. the peanut gallery around you faded away, suddenly it felt like it was just the two of you, standing here. just the two of you, in this universe. "been talkin' about me?" you whispered, and you couldn't help but lean a little more into his side, your grip on his hand growing a little more substantial, a little more confident.

because you'd been someone's secret before, someone's wyd text late at night, someone's nobody, really, someone's a friend. you knew what it felt like to be traded up for, like an old phone, to be the just old enough model that someone looked for someone else, someone newer.

it felt a little spectacular to be someone to write home about, someone to be seen with in broad daylight, someone to be gushed about to a brother. maybe it just felt spectacular to be that kind of someone for jack, in particular.

"a bit," jack breathed into your ear, the softest, probably most uncertain you'd heard him. like he didn't want to scare you away.

you bumped your hip against his. "real chatterbox, hm?" you whispered, adoring the ghost of a flush up his neck, the shy smile he couldn't seem to hide.

"only about stuff that matters," he said, and whatever joke you were going to say died in your mouth, tasted bitter.

luckily, cole and sophie approached, drawing your attention away.

"good to go?" alex asked, to which cole nodded, a smug smile on his face.

sophie huffed. "i don't know why they give me you every damn game," she exclaimed, shoving her recorder and clipboard into her bag. "as if you could give me a useable quote if your life depended on it."

cole scoffed. "i can't help it if your questions are boring as hell," he said. "why don't you ask me something interesting?"

"like what?" sophie asked. "what do you propose i ask you?"

"to dinner next week," cole answered immediately, his smile more of a toothy smirk, and sophie groaned, shook her head.

"i'm out," she said, taking a quick right. she made eye contact with you and sam. "i'll see you back at the house, tonight, girls?"

you both nodded, called out your agreement and goodbye.

when sophie was out of earshot, trevor clapped cole on the shoulder. "don't you get tired of striking out, coley?" he asked.

"you don't seem to, trev," luke observed, to which jack let out a laugh.

"hey, i got a single out of today," trevor argued. no one seemed to view that as the victory that he did.

cole and trevor eventually peeled off to the athlete's dining hall to get lunch, while luke walked back to the row with the group of you, saying something about grabbing a shirt from quinn's room.

when you all made it back, standing in front of the tke house, jack reluctantly retracted his arm from your shoulders. you felt cold without it.

luke headed up to the door.

"luke, tell quinn i say hi, would you?" sam asked, to which he gave some confused confirmation, before disappearing into the house. sam then turned to alex. "a pleasure, as always, al," she said, barely sparing him a second glance.

"yeah, bye?" alex said, almost a question, obviously wary of sam's change in pace.

jack touched your hand, pulled your gaze to his like two magnets, eliciting some kind of shield between you and the rest of the world. "thanks again for coming," he said, so soft, you could feel in your bones that he meant it.

"'course," you said, found it strange that it was entirely true. of course you would come when he called you. of course you'd indulge his every whim, when he asked so politely. "see you on friday? for dance?"

and he gave the slightest of pouts, but it drew your attention to his mouth nonetheless. made your cheeks feel hot, your heart beat fast, nonetheless. "too long, baby," he said, and you could have rolled your eyes at his boyish whine, but you never would. not when he was whining for you.

you just stayed quiet, let yourself smile, slightly. "maybe before friday, then?"

he grinned as if some plan he'd formed had turned out exactly as he'd hoped. "i'll text you," he said, giving you that fairytale smile, and you'd been told that before.

you'd been told that before, during nighttime hours that passed like slug across rain-drenched walkways. you'd been told that while in boxer shorts that weren't your own, standing in a doorframe that was practically laughing at you.

i'll text you, you'd been told, from some guy on his bed, on his phone, not quite looking at you.

and the doorframe might have cackled at how desperate you seemed, then, desperate for something you'd never get from this guy in the room you were leaving.

kick rocks, girl, the doorframe might have said, you know how many i've seen come in and out, even just this week? and you really think you're special?

but, right now, jack told you that he'd text you, and you couldn't find a doubt in your mind. you knew he would.

you proved to be right. the weekend flew by, because you were busy, yes, but also because of the near-ongoing text conversation you had fallen into with jack.

he might ask you something about the classes you were taking (besides ballroom), to which you would shyly tell him about some finance discussion you found genuinely interesting.

you might ask if he played sports at all, like his brother (he played hockey growing up, but wasn't good enough to play in college, like luke was with baseball), to which you would tell him you found it hard to believe that he could ever be not good enough at something.

and you'd believe it, too, wholeheartedly. sure, he had this ease to him, this softness, but he also seemed to possess a specific kind of eagerness, a delicious sort of hunger you felt must lead him to the things he wanted without exception.

you wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, but he had you smiling at your phone on more than one occasion, had your heart beating a little faster with every notification. he had you dreamy. it was a good look on you.

that's how he had you, just over the phone, so the feeling was amplified by a million the next monday afternoon, after class, on your walk back from the business building, as you passed the tke house. a walk you'd taken a hundred-something times over the years, but this time was different, because your name was being called out of an upstairs window.

your heart stuttered, because you recognized that voice, in its confidence, in its goofy gentleness. you stopped walking, looked up, searching for an open window.

"that you, jack?" you called back, when you found it, found him leaning out of the pane with a smile you could see from where you stood. even though you knew. even though you'd never mistake his tone for anyone else.

he gave a pout. "who else?" he asked, and it was careful, calculated, even though it was playful. like he really wanted to know who else you thought would call your name from a window. like he really wanted to be the only one.

"oh, no one," you assured him, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again, towards your house, "you're my only romeo." you'd meant it in a joking way, but you could tell the first three words were the ones that mattered to him. the ones that would echo in his head. you're my only.

this made him light up, made him glow like a disco ball in a middle school gymnasium. "look so pretty today, baby!" he said, in response, before the distance between you grew so stark.

you flushed, wanted to feel the word pretty from his mouth against your neck, wanted to swallow it down. but you just smiled. "only today?" you asked, wondered where this confidence had come from, tried to imagine you saying that to anyone else. you couldn't.

"come back tomorrow, just to check!" he called out after you, making you shake your head, look down at your feet.

you weren't even back to your front door yet before your phone buzzed. not just today, he'd texted you.

i knew what you meant :), you sent back.

just didn't want you to think differently, he replied, followed by spend a scary amount of time thinking about how pretty you are.

the following day, you'd be lying if you said a smile didn't bloom across your face as you walked back after class, as you approached the tke house. maybe it was some pavlov response, but it was probably because you recognized the figure sitting on the window pane on the top floor, swinging his legs, just looking out, like he was on the top of a pirate ship.

you smiled, but your pulse stuttered, a bit. "jack?" you asked, although of course you knew it was him, that perfect facial structure, shag of soft hair. "is it safe up there?"

his gaze fixed on you, alight with flame and amusement. "worried 'bout me, baby?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but something in you twitched, because you were, actually. when did that happen?

"why're you hanging outta your window?" you asked, because you didn't need to tell him that you cared that much about him, not yet. you barely wanted to admit it to yourself, even.

he seemed to take your deflection as confirmation, anyways, to see right through you, as he typically did. his grin ticked up, a beautiful combination of a bashful blush and confident smile. he pushed his hair from his face. "knew you'd be walkin' by," he said, swung his feet up and back gently. "had to catch you."

you swallowed, ran your palms along the straps of your backpack in delighted disbelief. "you were waiting for me to walk by?" you asked, still not quite understanding.

he only nodded, tilted his head, gave the softest of smirks. it was almost too much. "don't you know you've got me waitin' by the phone, baby?" he asked, melodic. it was almost like he was making fun of you, with that teasing tone, but you knew in your heart that he wasn't. that he would never.

cherry-blossom pink bloomed across the bridge of your nose as his confession registered in your mind. the thought of him throughout his day, acutely aware of his phone in his pocket, his heart racing at every buzz, like yours did. "bein' so patient, are you?" you asked, the words smooth and drowsy in your throat, like cough syrup.

he hummed, swung a leg back over the pane, starting to shift his body back inside. "'m here when you need me, baby," he said, matter-of-fact, absolute. his gaze sharpened, the temperature of it rising to a scorch you felt like a slap. "or when you want me."

it was something sort of breathtaking, how honest he was with you, from the beginning. how he seemed perfectly content just waiting for you to come to terms with the attraction you felt so deeply. the attraction he could see in your eyes, in your breath, in your words.

you were scared, though, because this was the before part. and the guys you'd had before had appeared genuinely interested during the before part, too. it was the after part you were concerned about.

because what if he lost interest as soon as he had you, like the other guys did? he seemed so different, and so genuine, and sure, you'd never thought anyone to be as beautiful as him, but what if he wasn't different? what if he left you, too, standing alone, dumb, a desperate fool?

how many times had a beautiful trick forced your hand? you shivered at the thought, but the romantic in you wanted to believe. in yourself, in him. she wanted to believe in the love story between the beautiful trick and the desperate fool. she needed to.

the following day, perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, as you approached tke house on your walk back, to recognize jack's familiar figure in his front yard. he appeared to be making progress closer to you, day by day, from inside his room, to outside his window, to now, just next to the sidewalk.

the scene you approached wasn't necessarily a rare one, not on the row, but it might appear odd to an outsider. a few of the brothers, some that you recognized, were sitting on a couch that they had obviously moved from inside, while a couple others, jack included, were lounging on adirondack chairs. most of them had computers out, doing work, or something like it. and, of course, because it was a sunny afternoon, all of them, save for one, were bare-chested.

you weren't especially sensitive or judgmental when it came to that sort of thing, but, as you got closer, you found your cheeks growing hot, anyways. you were embarrassed like a kid, like you'd been caught with something forbidden, and you might've walked right by the house, avoiding eye contact, if jack hadn't made that impossible.

"tryna sneak by, baby?" he called out from his chair, teasing, his posture so distractingly relaxed, knees spread wide. he waved you over with a knowing smile. "c'mere," he said, but not like a demand. like a request, sweet-sounding from his full mouth.

and you'd do just about anything he asked, so of course you exhaled, turned on your foot, walked nervously from the sidewalk onto the lawn, over to his chair. you nodded your hello to nico, on the couch, on your way, finally stilled in front of jack's chair.

your heart was pounding, your palms felt damp. he'd called you baby, in front of all of his friends, like you weren't something to hide. the opposite, actually, like you were something to show off, someone to be proud of. he looked at you like you were worth something, and he looked so beautiful, drenched in sunlight, so stunning that your throat felt tight.

"hi," you said, internally smacked yourself at how lame you sounded, how dumb.

"hi," jack parroted, his smile growing as he shut his computer, set it down on the ground next to him. you suspected he could probably feel your nerves, your distraction. you suspected he was delighted in it. and that made you feel a bit better, at least. to be his delight, for the moment being. "you know quinn, right?"

you turned your eyes to the chair next to jack, to a face you recognized, the only one in the yard wearing a shirt. "yeah," you answered, giving quinn a small nod, which he returned. "hey, quinn."

the older brother gave you a small smile. "hey," he replied, "heard your sam's been askin' about me."

you laughed, twisted the sole of your sneaker into the grass slowly. "she has," you confirmed, although you highly doubted her interest was genuine. "very recently, at least."

quinn just laughed, gave a slight shake of his head before turning back to his computer. he knew something you didn't, you could tell, but you couldn't focus on that, right now, not when jack's voice called you back from your curious state.

"wanna sit?" he asked, spreading his legs wider as if to make room for you. you scrunched up your nose, slightly, in thought.

"you're not busy?" you asked, sort of shaky, shifting on your feet.

he shook his head, gave his thigh a soft pat in invitation. "wanna hear about your day," he said, and you could have swooned.

you set down your backpack next to his laptop, on the grass, let him pull you onto his lap. you settled into his chest, crossed your feet over the far armrest, rested your hands in your own lap as he draped a heavy arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

you tried not to ruminate too hard on how warm he was, how his bare skin seemed to spark against you like an electric shock. jesus, had you ever been so awkward?

"nervous, eh?"

you looked up at him, found his smile lazy but his eyes attentive, almost concerned. you nodded, because who could lie to those eyes? "you make me nervous," you said, plainly, because it was true.

he fixed you with that starry gaze, his mouth dipping slightly into something like relief. you were confused, your brow furrowing as he took your hand in his free one, brought your fingers up to his neck, just below his ear. he pressed your index and middle finger into his soft skin until you could feel his pulse, until it vibrated through you.

until you could feel just how fast his heart was beating. you felt molten, all over, like day-old valentine's day chocolate over a flame.

you rubbed careful circles into his neck, as if to soothe the underlying pace. "like you just ran up the stairs," you said, and it came out like a whisper. jack just huffed a laugh, let his hand fall to the top of your legs. there was something mesmerizing in his eyes when he looked at you, then. "thank you," you added, a breath.

"make me nervous, too, baby," he said, so soft only you could hear. his mouth twisted into a teasing grin. "'m just better at hidin' it."

you rolled your eyes, but relaxed deeper into him, all the same, leaning your head back on his extended arm, shifting across his lap. "guess 'll have to get better at it, then," you said, a small smile on your face.

he just shook his head. "hope you don't," he told you. "hope you never hide from me."

your tongue felt too big for your mouth, then, so you just asked about his day, told him about yours, felt yourself grow more and more comfortable with each passing second, as the sun peeled across the sky like a sweet orange. you had homework to do, but you lost track of time, talking with him about everything and nothing, about nonsense and significance. you found yourself hanging off of his words like they were his lips, found yourself laughing so genuinely and sharing more with him than you had with a new person in a long, long time.

his laugh rang in your head like church bells. everything he said to you felt like a secret, like something just between the two of you. people moved to and from the lawn as you spoke, as you listened, but neither of you seemed to notice. the hours melted away in moments.

"jesus, there you are," came a loud voice from the sidewalk, pulling you from your bubble. you turned, found sam, a hand on her hip, looking right at you. "would it kill you to answer your phone?"

guilt bloomed in your chest. you hadn't thought to check your phone in what must have been an eternity. you quickly picked yourself up from jack's lap to grab it from your bag, caught a glimpse of his pout, which made your stomach flip. you scrolled through your notifications, winced at the texts you'd missed, mostly sam asking where you were. "i'm sorry," you said, looking up at her, and you meant it.

sam didn't hold grudges, though, had better things to do. it was one of the things you loved about her. so she just waved you off, approached you where you knelt next to your phone. she tilted her chin up at jack in greeting before noticing his brother. "'sup, quinn," she said, pushing her glasses to the top of her head. "didn't get the tarps-off memo, did you?"

quinn looked up, smiled right back at her. his gaze darted to the front door of the house and back in a second, almost undetectable, but you noticed it, noticed quinn's grin grow almost devious. "sorry to disappoint, sammy," he said, emphasis heavy on the nickname, his eyes settling on the door again. he coughed, nodded his head. "hey, uh, alex."

you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, shared a look with jack, who touched your shoulder lightly. just to say are you getting this? just to say i'm right here with you. as if you'd forget.

sam spun around to face alex, who stood on the front steps, hands in the pockets of his shorts. he wasn't looking at sam, though. he was glaring daggers at quinn, who was acting oblivious, practically humming contently in his seat.

"excuse me?" sam's voice was pitched. "what the hell are you wearing?"

your eyes widened as you registered the front of alex's t-shirt. it was a pretty pale yellow, with some bid day slogan on it, over three identical triangles. alex was wearing something tri delt.

you felt jack lean forward, his mouth right by your ear. "that from this year's bid day?" he asked. you nodded slowly, so as to let the scene unfold in front of you without disruption.

alex just looked down at his shirt, shrugged, appeared to be the picture of confidence, even arrogance. "what's the big deal?"

sam rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. "tri delt, al, really?" sam sighed, then began to pull at the sleeves of her own sweatshirt, tug it over her head. of course, she was wearing only a bra underneath. of course, she didn't care.

quinn laughed, let out a whistle.

jack's laugh shook through you as he leaned forward, rested his forehead on your shoulder blade. you grinned at the intimacy of it, of letting him hide his laugh in you.

sam exhaled again, her sweatshirt now in her hand, which she extended to alex as she fixed her glasses. "here," she said, impatient.

alex narrowed his eyes, took the blue mass of fabric, pulled it over his head.

sam didn't wait to see him put it on, like she didn't need to check, instead turning on her heel, in pajama pants and pretty much nothing else, and began to walk back towards the a phi house. she gestured your way, "let's go, you," she ordered.

you scurried to grab your bag, pushed up on your feet, touched your fingers to jack's chin, lightly, before making to follow her. "movie tomorrow?" you asked, emboldened by hours of comfort, of being made to feel comfortable.

"yes, please," jack said, and the way he smiled up at you was something of dreams. "i'll text you, yeah?" you nodded, turned to run after your roommate.

"pleasure as always, madam president," nico called out from the couch, to which sam scoffed.

you caught up with her, hugged her into your side. "feeling feisty, eh?" you asked.

"tri delt," she said, biting, "what a moron, honestly. who does he think he is?"

you laughed. "i don't think he's thinking about anyone in tri delt, right now," you tried.

"and don't think we're not talking about you," she said, wagging a warning finger at you, "disappearing for hours, just for me to find you in the lap of a," she gasped dramatically, for emphasis, "frat boy!"

and you did talk about it, later, in the comfort of your room. you talked about jack, and how special he made you feel, and how patient he was with you, and how different he seemed.

and you talked about how scared you were, how you were so worried that as soon as you gave him any more of you, he'd take it all and run like blue and red flashed in the rearview. how you were more scared now, probably than ever before, because of how ready you were to give him whatever he wanted, and after such a short time of knowing him, too. to give him all of you, if he asked.

or, at least, to give him enough of you that, if he did run, he would leave nothing left.

sam listened, and asked questions, and talked for a long while, but the gist of it was that sometimes good things are scary. sometimes to be scared is to care, and sometimes to care is to be human.

"jesus, just look at me," she said, "make a fool out of myself on the daily for that scumbag, and look where it gets me." she sighed. "minus one sweatshirt and plus one poor boy calling me sammy."

you laughed. "you're a lot of things," you mused, "but you're no fool."

unlike you, foolish one, some voice in your head taunted, low and mean. your nose twitched.

sam hummed. "so, i should be out of the room tomorrow night?"

you groaned, hung your head in your hands. "it's a terrible idea, right?" you asked. "of course he's going to think something specific when i asked him to watch a movie at my place, hm?"

she just laughed at your anguish, put her hands up in surrender. "hey, you asked him," she pointed out. "not like he snapped you u up? at three a.m."

you scrunched up your nose. "i guess," you said.

"you make the rules," sam reminded you, "you set the pace." she fixed you with a look. "but you seem to like the fast track, love." she gestured to her cheeks. "you're glowing with it."

and maybe she was right. but you didn't feel like you were glowing, the following night, the night jack was supposed to come over.

you'd fussed over your hair and your clothes and your general being, made and remade your bed, folded all the clothes in your closet, as if he would be doing a thorough inspection.

you felt scattered, scared, so devastatingly nervous. you caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, almost flinched at the lack of confidence you found, the physical embodiment of anxiety. it seemed to web under your eyes like spiders, seemed to coat your skin like dull plaster.

it was sort of odd you felt so anxious, you thought, because you trusted jack. you trusted him so much, so truly. brutal memories had your sense of security all twisted around, though. at the moment, you couldn't quite grasp his lips against your temple, you couldn't tangibly touch his kind smile, didn't have the echo of his reassuring words in your ear.

you just felt crazy. crazy for wanting to trust him, somehow even more crazy for not being able to just let go. how badly you wanted to let go of the past, of your insecurities, of your fears.

it was almost like you were being pulled between two realties. you felt the stretch in the lines on your palms, in the seam of your mouth, in your breastbone. it was a pull between the kind of fear you found some deranged sort of certainty in and the future, what could be, what you could almost taste, if you'd just let yourself relax. if you'd only let yourself enjoy it.

why do you have to remember every embarrassment and failure? some voice in your head screamed, why can't you just be normal? you swallowed around your sadness, because he'd probably want someone normal, right? he probably wouldn't want you.

as if summoned by your despair, your attention was pulled upwards by a knock on your window, a few quick raps. you squinted, were shocked to find jack's pretty face on the other side of the glass.

you lived on the first floor, so it wasn't necessarily unsafe, or anything, but the front door was right there, and he was early. he was early, and you looked like a mess, felt like an even bigger one.

still, you walked over to the window, pulled it open. "what're you doing?" you asked, cleared your throat to hide the shake in your voice.

his blue eyes flashed with something like recognition, gone again in a moment. "am i too early?" he asked, like some impatient kid on christmas morning. "i can wait by the front door for another hour, if you want." you could have sighed in his voice, this specific tone that calmed you like lavender, the one that was almost making fun of you, but not quite.

even in your chaotically disorganized state, you just left the window open, stepped back. "'course you can come in now," you said, welcoming him in. you gave him a bit of a laugh, but it sounded kind of sad as it came out. "'m sorry about all this," you said, giving a rough gesture to your room, yourself, as you sat at the foot of your bed. "i'd probably have fixed it by the time you were supposed to get here."

he climbed into your room, and the sight was so intimate it made your chest contract. when he looked up at you, confusion dripped down his gaze like candle wax. "what do you mean?" he asked, coming to sit next to you, warm and easy. "fix what?"

you gave him a half-smile, genuinely believed he was just being polite. "i know i look crazy," you said, running your fingertips under your eyes. "i feel crazy."

his eyes filled with kind concern, not pity, but just care. he tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you into his chest in an embrace that felt like a midday nap, exactly what you needed. "then i'm happy i couldn't stay away, crazy girl," he said, and it was so soft it hurt. "tell me." a request, only because he wanted to know. he wanted to know you.

and, after a sigh, you did tell him, just as you'd told sam. you told him about how scared you were, about how you could feel how he was different, how you knew it like some philosophical principle, but how you were terrified, anyways.

you told him about how dumb, how juvenile and stupid you'd felt, over and over again, just for wanting to be taken seriously, just for wanting someone to deem you worthy of something longer than a night. just for wanting someone to stay. you told him about how you'd had people be so sweet and kind and caring, but they'd still left after they'd gotten what they'd wanted.

and you sort of felt pathetic as you spoke, and you half expected him to laugh, to tell you that you were like every other girl, expecting un-promised things from some poor guy. but, of course, he didn't. of course, he just held you to his chest, listened to you the entire time, his thumb rubbing circles into your upper arm.

"i don't want you to think that i think you're a bad guy," you made sure to say, looking up at him, "and i don't want you to think that i don't care about your life, and your anxieties, and stuff, just because i'm rambling about mine." you let your eyes flood with everything you were feeling. "but i also don't want you to think i'm disinterested, or bored, or something."

he hummed, and it was quiet, for a moment, as your words rolled around his head. "what do you want me to think, then?" he asked, finally, gently.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, thought for a second. "i want you to know that i'm into you," you landed on, and the truth tasted sweet on your tongue. "and i want to ask you to keep being patient with me, please." your mouth quirked up. "like you already are, i guess."

his smile was something dreamy before he pressed his lips to your hair. "how about this?" he said, a murmur, "how about you let me try to convince you i'm staying, hm? trust me to?"

you found yourself nodding.

"and if you want something, you just ask me, okay, baby?" he amended. "ask me, and i'll be here. promise."

you looked up at him through your lashes. "thank you," you breathed, after a pause, because a promise was something special. him being so soft with you was something special, too.

he gave a slight shrug, his smile almost a smirk. "you told me you're into me, baby," he said, like that explained everything.

you just laughed into his shoulder, felt fear melt away, dissolve into the air. "what did you come over for, again?" you joked, because you were supposed to be watching a movie, and instead you'd unloaded all this information on him. instead, you'd told him how you felt.

but he didn't seem to hear the joke in your tone. "to see you," he said, simply, making you flush.

eventually, you watched the second scream movie, which was your favorite, and you asked about his day, and you continued to add to the filing cabinet of information about jack that existed in your mind. eventually, the dim light and night air made your words slow and your eyes droopy. eventually, the two of you fell asleep.

when your eyes fluttered awake, sunlight poured in through your curtains like flour through a sieve. your limbs felt stiff, your neck tight, having fallen asleep in an awkward position, but your head was clear, not foggy at all. you'd slept scarily well.

a slight shift on your mattress drew your attention, and your eyes widened when you registered jack, still asleep, still in the clothes he'd come in last night. you looked around to find your laptop on the floor, jack's sweatshirt halfway off the side of the bed.

checking your phone for the time, you mouthed a curse, because you were already late for your eight a.m. you must have forgotten to set your alarm for this morning. admittedly, you had been awfully busy last night, in a comfortable sort of way. you'd had much more important things on your mind than today's lecture, namely the way jack's voice grew rougher as the hours passed. namely, how he shared things with you like he trusted you with everything, like he knew you'd take care of him.

you silently rose, crept to the bathroom to brush your teeth and quickly get ready. when you emerged again, you were relieved to find his eyes still closed.

he looked so peaceful, like this, so blissful, almost angelic. the morning sun settled on his face, the crown of his head like a halo, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.

as you pulled on a different shirt and shorts, you couldn't help the small smile that stretched across your face. because, you remembered, you'd told him everything, and he had stayed. when you looked over at him, he didn't disappear. he was really, genuinely there, and had felt comfortable enough in your bed, in your space, to fall asleep with his arm under your neck, with his knee grazing your hip.

only when you picked up your backpack did he stir, reaching a hand to rub over his face, stretching with a groan that made you blush. when he retracted his hand, resting it up against your headboard, his sleepy gaze found yours. he smiled, an instinct, a compulsion. you smiled back. "tryna sneak out on me?" he said, yawning halfway through.

you approached the side of the bed he was laying on, by your nightstand, bent down and sat back on your heels so you were close to eye level with him. "no," you told him, honestly. you pushed his hair back from his face, and he hummed at your touch, eyes drowsy, getting used to the light from the window. perhaps still getting used to the light of you. "just didn't want to wake you."

he exhaled, and you felt the heat of it on your arm. "going to class?" he asked.

you nodded, smiled. "but i'll see you later, maybe?" you asked, hopeful. "i'll text you?"

"please," was his reply.

before you pushed up from your knees, though, you bit your lip with indecision. "jack," you began.

"yeah, baby?" he asked, almost confused, certainly intrigued.

"remember when you said to tell you when i want something?" you tone had grown cautious.

"'course," he said, reaching a hand forward, under your chin, to keep your eyes trained on his.

you swallowed, shifted. "i want something."

he smiled, shy, in a flash of teeth, just so, so pleased. "anything," he answered, sleep now gone from his gaze, replaced with something sharper, something beautiful. "anything." he said it like a plea.

you breathed out, searched his eyes, then leaned forward slowly, pressed your lips gently to his. only for a second, soft as anything, barely there, before making to pull away again.

then his broad hand was on the side of your face, though, guiding you back to his mouth, this time harder in commitment but not in force. the positioning was kind of awkward, with him propped up on his elbow, and he tasted a little bitter from the morning, and your heart felt like it was buzzing, but it was perfect. it was perfect, all of it, because it was with him.

no running away, his kiss seemed to scream at you, not from me.

you hoped he could sense your promise by the way you reached an arm around his neck, by the way you relaxed into his mouth, practically a sigh of relief.

he felt like lazy laundry days and laughing in the kitchen and pinkie promises. he smelled like worn-out cologne from the night before. he felt like trust, and belief, and something meaningful. he felt like something, someone, you could get used to. someone you wanted to, at least.

you both pulled away, at some point, only just barely, enough to catch your breath. you ran your nails along the nape of his neck, watched his glossy gaze settle on you.

"'m really gonna be late, now," you said, dumb, but you didn't really care. you had greater things to care about, it seemed.

he laughed, and you felt it in your fingers. "they're lucky they're getting you at all," he said, and it was a rasp. his smile grew lopsided. "or maybe 'm the lucky one."

you gave a slight shake of your head. he just said these kinds of things, and he didn't think about how they'd make your vision spin. how terribly inconsiderate. "i'll see you later?" you clarified, giving his shoulder a squeeze before getting up, lugging your backpack on.

he nodded, still a bit dazed, it seemed.

the thought made you smile. "bye, jack," you said, on your way out.

"bye, baby," he called out after you, a sing-song. you could hear the happiness leaking from his voice, could almost taste it.

time passed quickly and blissfully, from there. the semester began to rush forward in a flurry of classes and chapter meetings and philanthropy obligations, all which were cut with movie nights with jack in your room, nights on which he slept over more often than not (you swore every time he came over he stole a different sweatshirt of yours. your closet was starting to look scarce, but whenever you saw him push the too-tight sleeves up on his forearms, you couldn't find it in yourself to mind), dance class on friday afternoons (you didn't know how someone could be so tragically terrible at ballroom as you seemed to be, but you looked forward to it, all the same), parties at tke on the weekends (you grew to know his friends and brothers and their girlfriends, grew to be a part of their little world).

tonight was one of those parties, and you were in your room, trying to figure out what you were going to wear, before sam burst in the door.

"we're not going," she said, plain and simple, sitting on her bed.

you looked at her with a raised brow. "why not?" your eyes widened. "what did alex do?"

she rolled her eyes. "it's not alex," she explained. "i told nico no more bros and hoes bullshit a long time ago, and he didn't listen." she shook her head, as if disappointed. "what is the theme, if not golf bros and tennis club hoes?"

you gave a light laugh. "so we're actually not going?"

"nope," sam declared, "already put it in the chat. a phi is boycotting."

as if on cue, you received a text from jack that read coming tonight?

haven't you heard, you sent back, a phi is on strike :)

you accepted his almost instantaneous face-time request, grinning as his pretty features filled your screen. "what do you mean you're on strike?" was his immediate question.

"hi to you, too, jack," you teased, your stomach flipping when his eyes filled with something soft.

"hi, baby, 'm sorry," he amended, and his voice was genuine.

you waved his apology off lightheartedly. "i'm under strict presidential orders," you told him, "apparently nico didn't heed the warning about the bros and hoes thing."

jack groaned, then looked away from the screen for a second. "they're not coming," he called out to someone, "like, actually, all of a phi is not coming."

"and we're not budging!" sam called out from her bed.

"is that sam?" came another voice from jack's end. "put her on."

and so the phones were passed to alex and sam, respectively.

"c'mon, sam," alex said, the most emotion you'd heard from him in a while. "you guys need to come out. we need you there."

it was true, sort of. they needed girls there, and a phi was plentiful with pretty smiles and kind laughs.

"no can do, al," sam said, smug. "tke needs to learn their lesson."

alex blinked.

"will you put nico on, please?" sam asked, syrupy sweet. "i have some choice words for him."

"no, you can't talk to nico," alex responded, short.

"what's the deal, madam?" came a very nico-sounding voice, off screen. "it's a good theme, eh? think you'd look great in a tennis skirt."

you rolled your eyes.

"what, won't let him talk without his lawyer present?" sam pressed.

jack's laugh was bright. you felt it through the screen.

"he can talk to you when he puts a shirt on," was the curt response.

you smirked. alex was not doing a very good job of shielding his emotions, not anymore.

"you know me better than that, don't you?" sam asked, almost offended. "not one to get distracted easily by a bare chest."

alex sighed, rubbed a hand over his face.

"are you saying you get distracted by nico's abs, al?" sam continued. "i mean, i get it, even if i can't relate personally."

"you're not talking to him, sam," alex said. "our theme for tonight is not up for debate. it's too late."

sam gave a dramatic sigh, appeared deep in thought.

"well, can i talk to quinn, then?" sam said. "not for any reason, really, just want to see his face."

you bit your lip out of frame, smiled, because you had a feeling jack was doing something similar. you had a feeling that if you were in the same room, right now, you'd be sharing a knowing glance, a hidden laugh. you felt warm with that knowledge.

"quinn's busy," alex bit out. you could almost hear his grinding teeth.

sam just gave a theatrical pout that had you giggling.

"shame," sam said, a winning smile on her face.

you heard alex's deep exhale. "you're killing me, here, beautiful," he said, a sigh. your eyes widened. was alex finally breaking?

sam just hummed. "'s that my sweatshirt you're wearing, al?" she asked. "color looks nice on you."

then she handed the phone back to you, walked from the room, and when you looked down at the screen, alex was gone, too, leaving only the soft slope of jack's nose, messy hair in his face. "hi," you said, a smile bubbling free.

"hi," he parroted. "if you're not coming, then, what're you doing tonight?"

you shrugged. "probably just watching a movie here," you said. "nothing crazy."

his nose twitched, his eyes shone with an unasked question.

"wanna join?" you asked, loving the way his face lit up at your invitation.

he sucked on his teeth, and your stomach coiled with heat at the sight. "think 'm technically supposed to be here," he said, to which you pouted. "but i might be able to sneak out."

"sneak outta your own party?" you asked, a light laugh on your mouth like a sparkly gloss.

"for you," he added, which made your laugh settle into something dangerous.

you scrunched up your face in delight. "'ll leave my window open, then," you said.

"thank you, baby," he said, waited for you to hang up first.

you did leave your window open, let the cool nighttime breeze ease in, blowing your curtains slightly, the edges of your sheets by your feet. you were comfortably on your side, your mind quiet as your eyes lazily took in your computer screen.

the tassels on your drapes seemed to sing at jack's knock on the window pane. the fixtures in your room seemed to relax, the wood of your desk turning malleable, the light on the ceiling to burn hotter, dimmer.

play it cool, you wanted to shush them, the way you whisper to your friends in middle school when your crush walks past your locker, just act normal.

your smile crept up on you, slow and genuine, as he swung his other leg over, shut the window again, immediately kicking off his sneakers and collapsing on top of you, the weight of him almost oppressive against your chest, your face.

you laughed nonetheless, wrapped your arms around his middle to hug him closer, to breathe him in. you felt his neck relax, his heavy head hang just above your shoulder. he let out a breath, like he was exhaling everything heavy. like he was making space for you in his lungs, in his chest, in his being.

you rubbed gentle circles into his back over his sweatshirt. "successful jailbreak?" you murmured, your voice muffled into his chest.

he pressed his lips to your shoulder, gently, before rolling off of you, soft as anything but sparking heat between the two of you nonetheless. "you've made a fugitive out of me," he joked, laying an arm over your torso and pulling you into his side.

"sure they won't be missing you?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face. his eyes simmered with something lovely.

he gave a shrug you felt through your whole body. "if i was there, i'd be missin' you," he clarified in explanation. of course, your heart stuttered like a shy kid giving a speech at an all-school assembly.

"i'm glad you're here," you said, soft, the words not feeling like nearly enough. you hooked one leg around his, tangling the two of you further, then rethought your action.

because you'd known guys who'd groan at this kind of thing from you, who would warn you not to start something you couldn't finish, who would call you a tease or something much meaner.

but, of course, jack did no such thing. he just relaxed deeper into the position, nodded towards your abandoned computer. "what're we watching?" he asked.

you swallowed. it struck you as weird, that his endless patience and kindness sparked something hot in your stomach, that you wanted to give him anything and everything, all because he would never demand it of you.

his hand on your back suddenly felt heavy, his leg under yours too warm. you hummed, tilted your head up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

you could feel him smile against your lips. "what's that for, baby?" he asked, rough.

"for you," you answered, simply.

you felt his pleased exhale in your bones as he took your chin in his hand, led your mouth to his in a deeper kiss, this time, one that felt like coffee mugs with lipstick on the rim, like good morning texts before you wake up, like burning fireplaces in the winter, fragrant and lively. "so sweet for me, baby," he mumbled against your mouth.

you sighed, ran your fingertips along his jaw, found courage in the blue of his eyes that willed your nerves away. "can i have something, please?"

"anything," he answered, softly, immediately, as he always had.

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, wondering what you were actually asking for. "i just want," you started, uncertain, then started again. "just-"

you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale, reaching an arm around his neck, shifted your body until you were on top of him, kissed him with something feverish in your veins. he let out some kind of whimper-ish sound, so strained, so desperate, as his hand found your hips, held you to him with intention.

you kissed him like you were burning, like you needed him to taste the flame of your want, like your desire was some burden you couldn't possibly shoulder alone.

he didn't seem to mind, anyways, quite the opposite - he kissed you back like he'd take anything you'd give him, like the fire you were exuding was water in a drought, like you were some fabled savior. like you were saving him.

you pulled gently at the hem of his pink sweatshirt, or yours, rather, withdrew slightly to help him tug it off. he was so beautiful, always, but especially now, glowing in the light of your bedroom, flushed entirely because of you, eyelids heavy with attraction.

you stilled, straddling his hips, his back against your headboard as you traced the veins in his arms with your fingertips.

his thumbs slipped under your sleep shorts, rubbed feather-light circles into the flesh of your hips. "tell me what you need, baby," he said. "whatever you want, swear it."

you bit your lip to dull your smile, because you realized, in that moment, that there was no semblance of fear in your mind. not even a drop of doubt. you knew, that no matter what you gave to him, no matter how much of yourself you offered up, he wouldn't leave you, dumb and ashamed, standing alone in some taunting doorway. he'd stay.

the fact made unfiltered want flow through you, powerful as a river after heavy rain.

you met his gaze with a confidence that hadn't been there in a long time, that he seemed to pull from you with ease. you rocked your hips against his lap, relished in the strain you saw in his eyes. "wanna feel you inside me," you rasped, continuing to shift back and forth. "wanna make you feel good, hm?"

you felt his groan in your teeth as he flipped you on your back in a single, swift motion, left messy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. he didn't saw anything about how long he'd been waiting, about how long you'd made him wait, and you had a feeling it was because he genuinely didn't care.

you had a feeling the only thing he cared about, in this current moment, was the feeling of your collarbone under his teeth, the way your hands rooted in the curls of his hair, the not-nearly-enough friction of his grinding hips against yours.

you both twisted and tugged clothes aside, hurried, almost crazed, until you could take him in your palm, hard and hot, run your grip up and down his length, urging a groan from his throat that you wanted to taste. his exhales were so, so labored as his hips jerked towards you involuntarily.

your eyes widened, because you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be with someone like this, to be with someone whom you trusted entirely, someone whose pleasure you could feel as deeply as if it was your own. it made your blood feel volcanic as it beat from your heart.

"please, jack," you begged, and his overwhelmed gaze found yours, again.

"i know, baby," he cooed, running his fingers through your folds, cursing under his breath at how wet he found you, from barely being touched. all from him. your grip around him faltered as he pushed two fingers inside of you, the stretch immediate. "i know." you cursed, shut your eyes as he thumbed your clit, making your breath feel heavy in your mouth. he retreated further. "just wanna taste you first, baby, please?"

you just nodded, perfectly happy to give him any he wanted. then his mouth was on you, his tongue slow, methodical, as you tugged at his hair, your face pinched in pleasure.

pressure coiled inside of you as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your back arch up of your bed, the friction dreamy.

the weight of him pressed your hips down, heightening the sensation, making each motion of his fingers feel like an eruption of flame, each swipe of his tongue feel monumental.

you choked out a whine of his name, pulled on his curls just a little harder, lewd, slick noises echoing in your ears. "more," you breathed, to which he groaned, rocked his hips against the bed, desperate for some kind of friction, some kind of relief. the sight had you clenching around his fingers.

"not enough?" he asked, his voice gentle, the fervor of his motions anything but. "need more, do you, pretty thing?" you nodded, whimpered a please, which had him pulling his deft fingers from you, shifting closer to you. he angled his cock to your core, held your hips down with his other hand. he hummed. "you can have it, baby."

your eyes fluttered shut as he began to push inside of you with a moan that you swore made your lampshade blush, made the conservative hangers in your closet shake their heads, disappointed. you grasped at his forearm with a reaching hand, fisted the other in your cotton sheets, the texture heightened in your palm.

you felt the stretch everywhere, half expected your bedroom to crack in half, to feel the pressure just as acutely as you did. "almost there, baby, 'atta girl," he bit out, "fuck, feel so good for me."

you whined at his words, at the feeling of him all the way inside of you, that perfect stretch that gave way to something deliriously good as he began to move and in out, slow, deep.

you felt your eyes roll back, as if in slow motion, as you dug your nails into his arm, shuddered at the sensation as he pressed your hips harder into your mattress. "'s so deep, jack, fuck," you breathed, careful as a wince.

he held the top of your headboard with a steady grip, increased his pace. when he spoke, his voice was gritty. "that okay, baby?" he asked, shifting your hips to make you more comfortable, to make the angle feel better. "how's that?"

"so good," you moaned, raw, "feel you everywhere."

and it was true. he thrust in and out of you at a mind-numbing pace, with an intensity that burned through your body. time seemed to freeze, or maybe to liquify, to flow like molten rock. to scatter into oblivion, marked in breathy pants and strained moans, desperate kisses and tired muscles instead of minutes and seconds.

at some point, he took his hand off of your headboard, brought it to his mouth, bit down, as if to stifle a groan, as if to distract himself, last longer for you.

the thought shot right to your core, made your head spin faster, that his pleasure might run so deep, because of you, that he needed a distraction from it.

you moved your hand to your clit, rubbing carefully, moaning at the stimulation, which made you clench down, grip him in a maddening kind of way.

he gave a choked moan. "fuck," he grunted. "can't, jesus, can't do it, baby, so wet for me." his voice was a tortured sort of overwhelmed as his hips sputtered, as his pace continued, harder, faster.

he made to look away from you, maybe to sink his teeth into the flesh of his hand, again, but you wouldn't let him, instead reaching up to pull his fingers to your own mouth, press them against your tongue, soothe the angry red mark that had begun to show.

you swore your mind was somewhere else, somewhere shiny, somewhere sleepy, as you felt his stomach and thighs contract, firm and wiry.

"won't last like this, pretty thing," he breathed, a slight sheen on his collarbones, his forehead, shimmery under the overhead light. "so close, baby, feel too good for me." his exhale was unsteady. "so perfect like this."

"want it," you whined, so impossibly close, yourself. "need it so bad, baby, please. want all of it." your eyes met his. "need you."

he seemed to shatter at your words, at your request, his high, warm and hazy, triggering your own, a blur of whines and pleases and his hot breath at your temple, an all-consuming wave that had your vision blurring, had you clenching down on him so tightly.

he collapsed on top of you for the second time that night, this time his skin glowy and damp, the air sticky and humid as you both let your breathing normalize again, as you let your eyes flutter open.

he rolled to your side, refusing to unclasp his arms around your back, consequently pulling you to his chest, your nose against his breastbone. you traced a hand along the top of his spine, so perfectly content, so wonderfully blissful.

with anyone else, now would be the time when the anxiety really set in. now would be the time that the furniture started to hiss at you to get out.

such anxiety was nowhere to be found, though, not now. not with him. his rough hands felt soft on your back as he shifted deeper into your bed, making himself comfortable, making you comfortable, too, in succession.

and even though you knew it, he knew you, just so, so well. "'m staying," he whispered into your hair, "long as you'll let me."

your heart was pink jello in your chest. you pressed your swollen lips to his shoulder. "i'll let you," you promised.

and so your self-proclaimed frat-boy-ban was broken, completely done away with, replaced instead by the most delicious stability.

the already fast-paced semester was made a fairytale blur by your beautiful exception, in all of his endless kindness, his unrelenting loveliness.

how many afternoons did you spend in his lap, out on his front lawn? how many nights did you fall asleep together, tangled up in each other? how many parties started with his hat backwards on his head, but ended with it on yours, instead? when did you start to leave your window open, every night? how many mornings did he surprise you with coffee, remembering your order like it mattered, simply because it was something you'd told him? how many times did his beauty and thoughtfulness surprise you, again and again?

like the time you went with him to a baseball game, an away one, this time, to support his friends and brother, when you insisted that you'd drive. you'd had to stop for gas, halfway through, gotten out of your truck, had only just stuck the nozzle in before he'd come around the side to lean against the door.

you had felt yourself raise a brow, almost confused. "sort of a one person job," you'd joked, to which he'd smiled, leaned back further against the side, just waiting with you.

like he couldn't bear to sit in the passenger seat, alone, not when you were out here, hands idle.

or like the night of your ballroom dance midterm performance, in front of an audience (an audience that included a lot of your friends). you'd stumbled halfway through the steps, nothing crazy, but certainly enough to notice. your face had grown hot, an embarrassed strawberry-milk flush.

but then, across the stage, jack had tripped over his own feet, in a way that looked pretty intentional, if you thought so yourself, as if he wanted to draw everyone's attention for a moment. as if he wanted to keep any potentially judgmental eyes off of you. he caught your knowing gaze as he pushed himself off of the floor, shot you a cheeky wink.

or, like tonight, a phi's blind date formal. this event was always a highlight of the year, at the very least always entertaining, always a good source of drama, of gossip, for a few weeks following.

planning it was a nightmare, from what sam had told you, a disorienting flurry of spreadsheets and communications with different frats and teams. typically, each house was matched with a frat and an athletic roster, and the dates were assigned from there, based on survey results and different requests.

you were excited for tonight, not nervous at all, because you'd requested jack as your date, and sam practically ran the whole thing, so you knew there would be no surprises.

for you, tonight was just a fun opportunity to dress up, to hang out with your best friends and your favorite boy.

the reveal of the dates was one of the best parts of the night. you'd be called upon to come out the door, and your date was supposed to be standing on the front step to walk you to the venue of the formal, just a few blocks away.

you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, turned to sam as you slung your clutch over your shoulder. "ready?" you asked, to which sam gave herself a spritz of perfume, nodded. you held the door for her. "did you tell me already if you requested somebody?"

she gave you a grin. "quinn," she said, simply.

you laughed. "you're gonna drive poor alex crazy," you chided.

she just shrugged. "he's driving me crazy, more like," she corrected. "all he does is bitch and moan when i mention other guys, then he wears my sweatshirt like it's all he owns, calls me beautiful, all that nonsense." she gave you a look. "i'm losing hope, love. if he doesn't make a legitimate move soon, i might go for quinn for real, just for all his trouble."

when it was your turn to open the front door, you took a breath, turned the handle, weren't surprised to find that familiar figure on the other side, pink flowers in his hand, his suit fitting him so wonderfully, his eyes softening when they caught on you.

your smile came easily, so naturally, as you approached him. he reached an arm around your middle, pulled you into his embrace by the small of your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you pressed your lips to his jaw in greeting before he pulled back.

"let me get a look at you," he said, soft, holding your hand at a distance, giving you a twirl that made you feel like a princess. he whistled. "i'm the one on your arm, tonight, pretty thing?" he asked, his smile toothy. "must be my lucky night."

you flushed with contentment, ducked into his side. "i'm the lucky one," you insisted, before the door opened again, making the two of you move to the sidewalk as he handed you your flowers, which you accepted with bashful thanks.

sam now stood in the open doorframe, but her wandering eyes narrowed when they landed on the curly-haired boy that stood on the front step. "what the hell is this about, alex?" she hissed.

"you look lovely, sam," alex said, undeterred.

"yeah, okay, thanks," sam said, "you know i requested-"

"i know," alex interrupted. "i vetoed your reuqest." he offered her his arm, which she took, lightly, reluctantly.

"that's not how this works," she reminded him, "you don't get a veto."

"i'm the president," he deadpanned, "of course i get a veto."

"i'm the president," sam retorted, "and i requested-"

alex sighed, turned to face sam, placed his palm over her mouth. "stop," he said, short, "talking."

her eyes narrowed, and jack pinched your side as you took in the sight in front of you. you shared an excited look.

"please be my date, tonight," alex asked, removing his hand from sam's face only after her mouth stopped moving. "for real."

after a brief pause, sam's mouth broke into a wide grin as she looped her arm through alex's, fell into step behind you and jack. "get up off your hands and knees, al," she teased, "'course i'll be your date. waited long enough, haven't i?"

it was a storybook sort of night from there, one defined by shared laughter and good music and gushing with your friends about their dresses.

time passed too fast in a blur of dance-floor spins that made the hem of your dress bloom, gentle touches and laughs into shoulders.

at some point, you and sam took a break by the edge of the venue, next to the refreshment table, having promised to bring jack back a drink. sophie approached you. you smiled, having not really seen her since the last chapter meeting.

"hey, sophie," you said, "this dress is stunning on you."

"thank you," sophie said, genuinely, before her eyes flashed. "if you see cole come up behind me, warn me, okay?"

"isn't cole your date, though?" sam asked.

sophie sighed. "technically, yes," she admitted, "but he thinks i requested him, which i didn't, so now he's being especially persistent."

you tilted your head. "so you got paired together because your survey results matched up? completely organically?"

"i guess," she answered, exasperated. "which i don't get, because we have, like, nothing in common."

"you have a little in common," sam said, "you both love baseball. it's, like, all you talk about."

"okay, so we have one thing in common," sophie conceded. "it's a conflict of interest! i'm supposed to be an impartial reporter!"

you shrugged. "impartiality is overrated," you said, and you meant it. now that you'd settled into being completely honest about how you felt, you couldn't imagine it any other way, couldn't fathom hiding that kind of thing from people that mattered.

"code cole, code cole," sam whispered.

"soph, you gotta stop running away from me," cole said, coming up behind her, shooting her that confident smirk. "tirin' me out, love."

sophie sighed, turned to face him, crossed her arms over her chest.

"care for a dance?" cole asked, extending his hand to her.

her gaze dipped to his fingers, then rose again. "i'll dance with you," she said, which made cole light up with excitement, "if you agree to give me at least one objectively useable quote after ever single game for the rest of the year."

cole blew out a breath like it was the easiest decision of his life. "done," he declared. he gave an enthusiastic fist pump when sophie took his hand and led him to the floor.

leaning back against the table, you and sam scanned the room, laughing at trevor's ridiculously bold suit, scoffing at nico, who was dancing with two girls at the same time, sharing a knowing glance when you registered quinn and luke, sitting at a table on the outskirts, luke's tie completely untied, quinn's tied around his head. the two loners appeared to be engaged in a game of cards with their respective dates.

eventually, you made good on your promise to jack, grabbing two drinks. when you turned your back on the table, he was walking up to you, his face pleasantly flushed, eyes so doting. your smile grew as he got closer. your eyes shut, delighted, when he threw an arm around your shoulders.

"there you are, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. you were hit with a dizzying sense of deja vu, knowing you'd been here before, knowing so much had changed since the last time you'd been in this position. "thanks for holding my drink for me."

you smiled up at him, leaning into his side, warm and firm against you. it was something magnificent, to have it not be an act, this time. to have it be completely genuine. to have it be real.

"of course, baby," you said, the slight tease in your tone made shimmery by the glint in his gaze.

he hummed, moved his arm down to wrap around your waist, pull you against him as he swayed back and forth to the music. you exhaled, so utterly at peace, relaxed into his chest, tilted your head back to look up at him. he met your gaze eagerly, that smile you so adored overtaking his face like a mural on the side of a building. "what?" he asked.

you shook your head, laughed lightly. because what, really? how could you sum it up? "you," you answered, honestly. "just you."

how could you sum him up? he was one million things. your pretend boyfriend in the face of campus security. your ballroom dance partner. your movie-night, good-morning text, sweatshirt stealer. your window-climber, baseball-watcher, owner of your favorite smile. your tke boy. your exception.

he was one million things, but, when he leaned down to press his lips to your hair, he was only one.

yours.

fin.

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #luke hughes #nico hischier #alex turcotte #cole caufield

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transmascissues · 5 months

Text

some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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howtofightwrite · 10 months

Note

Since adrenaline makes it easier to ignore pain, I’m wondering how severe an injury can be before adrenaline isn’t enough to allow a person to keep fighting

Fatal.

The scary thing about adrenaline is that you can suffer a mortal wound and not realize it until you drop dead. If you've ever seen the, “humans are space orcs,” meme, adrenaline is a big part of that. If you don't finish someone off, they are still a potential threat until they are clinically dead.

While it may seem slightly comical, the image of someone literally checking themselves for holes after being shot at is a real practice with genuine purpose. If they had an adrenaline rush, they might not be able to tell that they've been hit, and will need to physically examine themselves to ensure they're not bleeding to death without realizing it. (And, yes, that can absolutely happen.)

As a general rule, anything that will immediately kill someone, such as decapitation or catastrophic head trauma, will stop someone through an adrenaline rush. Destruction of the skeletal structure, (which is to say, destroying joints), might not completely stop them, but it's an injury they won't be able to power through (even if they aren't immediately aware of it.)

It's a little worse than I'm making it sound, too, because you can suffer non-fatal injuries during an adrenaline rush, and then aggravate the wound to the point that it becomes life threatening (or life-altering.) An adrenaline rush can, potentially, persist for over an hour.

In most cases, the adrenaline rush will drop off within a few minutes of the threat passing, though the state of threat is assessed by your brain, so your psychological state heavily affects that. Meaning, if you feel threatened, even if the actual danger has passed, the rush could continue (though it will usually drop off after, roughly, an hour.)

The “good” news is that an adrenaline rush will not prevent you from bleeding to death. So, if someone has been shot multiple times and is bleeding out, they'll still lose consciousness. You just need to make sure that they're actually incapacitated. Not that it matters, but as a minor up-side, adrenaline is delivered via the circulatory system, meaning if you start seriously bleeding, that's your adrenaline rush going with it, so the rush is likely to drop off prematurely in the event of fatal blood loss.

I'm not completely sure what the subjective experience is there. Catastrophic blood loss during an adrenaline rush is not something I have personal experience with, and my experiences with bleeding while dealing with an adrenaline rush is more just that bleeding is an extremely annoying inconvenience, when you don't need to consider what's happening. (To be clear, that's not just a glib dismissal, being aware of bleed was actually annoying. It might sound hilarious to be pissed off at your own blood leaking down the side of your face, but that was my experience. Also, for the record, I did not feel the gash that I was bleeding from, and angrily rubbed it a few times before realizing I'd been injured.)

The short answer to your question, “how much severely do you need to injure someone through an adrenaline rush?” You need to kill them.

That said, killing them is absolutely not your only option. Less than lethal devices, such as tasers or chemical sprays, can absolutely incapacitate someone under an adrenaline rush, without severely harming them. Similarly, restraints, and other submission techniques can be used to hold them down. In the case of restraints and submission holds, there is a danger of the individual injuring themselves, while they try to work their way out of the hold, but that risk is still vastly preferable to killing them on the spot.

Adrenaline is a very potent survival tool, in your physiology, and if you try to simply overpower that tool through direct force, it will lead to catastrophic consequences. However, alternative methods (in particular, shorting out someone's nervous system with a direct electrical charge, or simply interfering with the mechanical structure of their joints, can be just as effective at stopping them with far less dire consequences.

-Starke

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#how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #starke answers #starke is not a real doctor

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justporo · 6 months

Text

Senseless

Astarion, Staeve and the others barely survived their last big fight. Staeve can barely take the exhaustion which might or might not be amplified by how his local vampire has been regularly feeding on him. He desperately tries to push through... And Astarion has a few things to say about that.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This will be quite long, so... sorry! But I have a few things to add about this. First of all, I dedicate this piece of writing to the lovely @velnna - creator of the legendary Staeve and incredible artist! (Check him out if you don't know him already, I will say it again) This story is a continuation to "Bloodless". Back during writing that I already imagined Staeve being the Tav in that story (but didn't officially make it so). Back then I was waaay to too scared to tag velnna - but: I recently found out (well, he told me himself- and very kindly), that he indeed found it, read it - and liked it! (I was in shock...) And so I immediately thought that I would have to write an actual Staeve x Astarion piece for him. So here we are! @velnna, thank you so much for your kind words - I will be thinking of this and be motivated by it for a long time! And thank you also for all the amazing art you provide this community with! It's written from the usual second person POV - but it's STAEVE!

Pairing: Astarion/Staeve (You, male reader) Warnings: none, but major Act 2 spoilers so it will fully remain below the cut Wordcount: 3,5k ~~~

Barely, just barely had you all made it out of this godsdamned mausoleum alive. And after slaying a demon, oh, some other folks too, completing the Gauntlet of Shar, and a trip to the Shadowfell, you felt positively exhausted. And you felt that it was rightfully earned. Especially knowing that you wouldn’t get much rest before you were taking on an even bigger threat.

No rest for the wicked, it seemed – even though you weren’t entirely sure if that meant you or your foes.

You’d been pretty much exhausted even before you had entered the mausoleum and then what lay beneath (and before a certain devil had made it even worse). All because a certain vampire had to be kept fed and happy. Not that you were complaining about it though.

The two of you had your disagreements about it. Especially since you had already ended up in the dirt once because you might’ve been just a tad too eager about offering your neck to the vampire. You had both agreed to take it a bit slower after that - at least with the whole feeding thing.

Although you had still felt like it hadn’t been that much of a deal, the vampire had kept hissing at you to not be so desperate, as he called it. You would have called it: being way too stubborn to accept some godsdamned help.

And that is what had become of you both: two idiots, not really being able to admit to each other how deeply you actually cared for the other. Until just recently.

But even with that - it still meant you were both very much on uncharted territory. And putting feelings into words after such a long time of just trying to suppress them was by far not an easy feat to achieve.

And then, when you had entered the Shadowlands with barely anything alive in it – what else could you have done but to offer yourself up again? Astarion’s survival instincts had kicked in once more and so had your urge to provide – for as long as you were able to be there for him.

On top of that, the moments of tenderness that always followed, holding each other, kissing each other, deeply, – and before a certain night not long ago, often more – had done their fair share of consoling you about just a little blood loss. Barely anything couldn’t be forgotten as long as you were laying in the arms of someone you wanted to just keep holding onto – right?

But as much as you tried to ignore it: you still felt it. Felt how the generous donations to your local vampire tended to make you a little sluggish. Maybe it was even a bit more than just a little. More than once causing you to only make a critical dodge or lift your blade to parry in the last possible moment. Your A game definitely looked different.

But then again: did you want to be responsible for Astarion’s waning strength when it was so easy to just saunter over to him in the evening? Talk to him, get him to throw some of his sultry lines at you, cheesing your way to the same moment almost every night where you deliberately offered the vampire to feed on you. And he always accepted in the end.

It had become a well practised dance between the two of you over the past time spent in these godsforsaken lands. And so it had been in like about you trying to hide the effects all of this had on your constitution

So, when you had come out of the damned crypt – alive, even if only by a hair – your first order had been to lie down. Just right in front of the stone arch. Right in the dirt.

“Gods above and below”, you whispered, letting out a sigh and spreading out all of your limbs.

As soon as you made contact with the ground you knew it would be next to impossible to get up again in the near future. So, you settled for getting cosy with what you got. Which meant wiggling around until you found a somewhat comfortable position where the sword on your back wouldn’t press too much into your back.

“Gods, Staeve, you couldn’t wait ten seconds?”, Shadowheart scoffed and made a big step over one of your stretched out limbs – too stubborn to actually find a way around you. Incredible, how she still had the energy to be sassy after everything that must be weighing on her mind now. But then again, you really couldn’t blame her for deflecting with a generous amount of sarcasm.

“Ten seconds? What difference would that have made, eh?”, you answered her.

You lifted your head up a little. “I’d just be lying over there then”, you continued and weakly pointed down the path a bit.

The cleric just rolled her eyes at you and groaned at you again as the rest of the companions left the dusty old place as well. All of you blood covered and feeling exhaustion down to your bones.

You closed your eyes as you felt the fatigue grab almost complete hold of you. Meanwhile you heard how some of the others settled down around you. Halsin, who’d been lightly injured in the fight, winced as he sat down.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of it and lifting your head up again, you looked at him. But the druid just smiled and waved you off - no big deal, thankfully. So you let your head sink to the ground again, eyes shutting with a sigh. You barely had it in you to stay awake right this moment.

Your limbs felt heavy as lead, and you felt the drag on your eyelids. Meanwhile your pulse was still thrumming in your chest and your ears. A nervous rhythm that threatened to become the only thing baring you from drifting off to blissful and much needed sleep.

You were well aware that this kind of exhaustion wasn’t normal - even with everything you and the others had gone through. It had slowly become more and more - up to where you were now lying in the dirt, not sure if you would make it to camp tonight. Might be you were kind of in a pickle - but best not to dwell on it.

Next time you opened your eyes was when you heard some rustling quite near to you. It was Astarion, kneeling next to you. He was giving you one of his judgemental glances with a raised eyebrow, red eyes piercing as ever.

“Oh, hi love”, you said and grinned, tiredly wiggling your eyebrows at him. The vampire didn’t even acknowledge you - except for his eyebrow rising still a bit higher.

“So”, he drawled, an edge to his voice you couldn’t fully place, “are we getting up or do we have to carry you, love.” He made a little dramatic pause before he sarcastically spat out the last word.

You slapped your hand to your armoured chest with some effort and made a face that hopefully conveyed how hurt you felt by his implied accusation.

Astarion didn’t give a shit about your histrionics.

So you decided for a comeback.

“My friend, you aren’t carrying anyone, anywhere at any time in the near future”, you replied dryly. You heard Karlach snicker somewhere behind you. At least you’d gotten someone’s approval. The vampire gave the tiefling a death glare, then his ruby gaze wandered back to you.

And then it kept lingering on you. Something in the vampire’s eyes had changed and it was beginning to startle you.

And well - usually by now he should have taken up the banter with you again. Could it be, he was actually worried? Like really, actually worried?

“Look”, you said and used some of the little power you had left in your body to push up to a position that was at least somewhat close to sitting up. Immediately you started to feel dizzy.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all. We all are, aren’t we?”, you continued as you desperately tried to not let it be known how much your surroundings were spinning around you at the moment.

Quite obviously you were doing a terrible job at that because there was now open worry on Astarion’s face. Even the usual sharp edge of teasing in his voice had been dulled down by now: “And you want to take on Ketheric Thorm tomorrow? And all his thugs? Like this?”

You were definitely getting a little annoyed at him now. The others had gone dead silent. They must’ve been feeling too that this situation might be about to go sideways. You didn’t care.

And as much as you felt him tug on your heartstrings with the sad round puppy eyes he offered you now - did he have to make it so public? You were just not having it.

Using every last ounce of energy that you still had within you, you made to stand up. Astarion’s eyes widened some more and he cautiously stood up as well. His brows were furrowed now.

You gathered your legs beneath you with quite some effort. The world around you was really rushing past you now, but you were determined to bite through it. Then you pushed up to a standing position - straightening your back for extra effect and pointing a very passive-aggressive finger at your vampire.

“I’ll have you know tha-”, you began in a sassy tone.

But then no one would ever find out what you would have wanted to let them know. Because your vision blackened rapidly, closing in from the edges and you already felt the strange sensation of toppling over. Gravity inevitably pulling you back to the ground you had just stood up from.

The last thing you felt were arms that caught you under the armpits, with quite some effort. You heard strained groans and a hissed “idiot” very close to your ear. Then you passed out completely.

~~~

You woke up in dire confusion about where you were and how you’d gotten there. You lifted up your torso and blinked profusely to try and clear your vision. You also immediately reached for a dagger that would have usually been at your side. But you were also out of your armour it seemed. Oh, and laying on some pillows? A blanket draped over you?

You closed your eyes again and pressed the balls of your hands to your eyes. And you groaned as you felt a headache creep up on you now that you had woken up.

Since there seemed to be no imminent dangers around you sunk back onto the pillows. You realised that your shirt had been taken off as well. Pain thrummed through your skull.

Your hands dropped from your face, your vision cleared more and more and you realised that you were laying in someone else’s tent. And as you took a closer look at the ceiling of the tent, your brows furrowed. Because you very well knew which tent it was you were laying in. You’ve had your fair share of staring up at this very particular fabric from this very particular spot.

Your head popped up again from the pillows. And you found Astarion sitting at your feet, in his camp clothes. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest and very much glowering at you. His red eyes were basically boring into you.

“Oh, are we awake again? Back from the land of the dead, hm? Rise and shine then, my love, since you seemed so eager to do so earlier!”, the vampire immediately went into a tirade.

“You’re not even going to give me a few more moments to just really wake up?”, you replied flatly. But you could already feel his words evoking shame within you. You rubbed one of your eyes once more, trying to look innocent.

The vampire kept fuming: “Were you planning on telling me how much the blood loss affected you again?”

“No.”

Astarion obviously could barely believe your audacity as well as your honesty by the way his eyes first widened and then narrowed even more at you. But he kept silent.

“Were you planning on stopping to take my offered blood?”, you posed in return when there was no further reaction coming from Astarion.

You regretted the words as soon as they had left your tongue. Knowing it was a cheap shot because this was still very much you insisting on being the one to take care of his needs. And also hiding the negative side effects.

You immediately felt the twinge of guilt as you saw how Astarion’s eyes couldn’t help but stray from yours as he registered your words. Your headache accordingly sent a bolt of pain through your skull, making you groan.

You closed your eyes in desperation for a second, trying to swallow down the thought that you had just put this guilt onto him. Blaming him for his basic needs of survival even if you hadn’t meant it like that at all.

As you compulsively tried to think of something to say, you heard the vampire speak again: “Well, as much as I enjoy you falling for me. Maybe you could try and… avoid it next time.”

Your throat closed up. Immediately, the double meaning very much wasn’t lost on you.

And not only did you instantly recognise the tone of him deflecting with something harsh and sarcastic but you could also almost see how his old and very much practised mask slipped back in its place.

You felt how the whole situation was slipping from your fingers. Desperate to do something about it, you got up from the still half-lying position you were in and crawled over to where the vampire was now looking at you with trained indifference.

Your chest ached, just having to look at it. Especially since you had only recently made such a leap with him finally allowing you in more. Astarion finally allowing for some of the carefully put up fortress walls to crumble under your soft touch.

Back, when his somewhat cautious confession had made you swear to yourself that you wouldn’t stop until all of the wretched, cascading layers of armour the vampire had put up around his core would have been disassembled.

Now you felt you might be responsible for some of those layers being put back into place. Even if it had just been a very short moment, a dumb slip of the tongue. You hoped it wasn’t too late yet to undo the damage.

You drew your arms around your lover - slowly, cautiously. Posing the question if you were still allowed to do that.

The vampire let it happen.

A tiny fraction of your tension eased at the thought that there might still be hope to rectify the delicate thing you had basically just stepped on. That he would allow you to make it right.

“I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered silently. Almost too quiet to form actual words. But the pale elf in your arms heard you anyway. He didn’t look up at you but he did sink into your arms a little more.

“I’m sorry for what I said and for how I acted. I didn’t mean to blame you for anything.”, you said again, this time more confidently.

There was no further acknowledgement of your apology other than the vampire slowly leaning his head against your naked chest. His soft hair brushed lightly over your bare skin. Even the lightest touches of him in your arms sent jolts through your entire body.

But the knot between you was not yet unravelled.

Fear threatened to close up your throat again as your mind raced, feverishly trying to think of a way to make him understand that it was just… he meant everything to you. That you’d rather crawl in the dirt yourself instead of having to watch him do it.

That you so desperately cared about him. Why couldn’t he see that?

And then another thought crossed your mind. Concerning the battle you would have to take on tomorrow.

What if this was the last chance you would ever get to convey this to him? The last shot at convincing him that he was very much loved and cared for and had a place in this world as long as you walked this planet.

Carefully you raised your hand to under Astarion’s chin and nudged softly to see if he would allow you to lift up his head to make him meet your gaze. Again, he let it happen.

The vampire’s eyes found yours. Instantly, something in his gaze changed as he must’ve seen something particular in them. You tenderly and cautiously cupped his cheek as your lips parted. But it still took another moment before you managed to find the words.

“Astarion, if tomorrow… would be the end. I-”, you broke off. Then took another breath before you continued.

“I would hate myself if this is how I left things. I wouldn’t want to have caused you to think that I was just brushing you off for caring for me. Or that I put any blame on you when I was being a reckless idiot. But I still would want you to understand that I just… I’m doing this because I want you to be safe and happy and careless and free and… with me, if you want that.”

Astarion’s eyes ever so slightly widened and opened up as you spoke. A nearly inaudible gasp left his throat.

After you had ended your little speech, the moment of the two of you looking into each other’s eyes just went on. But the mood had changed now. The way Astarion looked at you as you softly let your thumb wander over his cheekbone was no longer distant. He was still allowing you in, if cautiously so.

Your gaze dropped to his lips as your thumb kept wandering over the vampire’s delicate skin.

Then you leaned in just a little - letting him decide if he wanted to bridge the gap between you. And he did so without hesitation.

Astarion met your parted lips with his. You gladly accepted his open-mouthed kiss.

The rest of the words that yet remained unspoken between you were resolved this way. By kissing deeply and assuring the other of what you could not yet put into words.

The vampire’s hand grabbed onto your upper arm, fingertips lightly grazing your biceps. You let your hand wander from his cheek into his soft white curls, your fingertips softly tugging and teasing them.

And you were still doing that when you slowly withdrew from him - if only enough to speak.

“I was a dick, Astarion, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you were. Now, I thought we had just established that. Don’t try and draw it out to make me sappy, Staeve darling, or I might actually take back what I said the other night”, Astarion replied with an edge of sarcasm entering his voice again.

But you knew that it was the good-humoured kind once more. The one he used when you two bickered like an old married couple.

“Don’t promise what you can’t keep”, you offered back with a smug grin. The vampire rolled his eyes at you. Your grin just grew.

“Come, just lie down with me, please”, you proposed to your vampire. Now that adrenaline and stress were slowly leaving your body you felt exhaustion creep up on you again. The headache you had completely forgotten to acknowledge somewhere in between also letting itself be known again.

Astarion immediately took you up on it and you laid down on the bedroll, snuggling up to each other until your limbs were fully tangled, bodies fully wrapped around each other. You gazed upon the vampire in your arms - how much his pale skin contrasted against yours.

You slowly felt how the tension left both your bodies, shoulders dropping, jaws unclenching. Revelling in relief and joy you closed your eyes and focused solely on how it felt to hold Astarion. Just silently laying there, enjoying this moment of peace.

Until you broke the silence once more because a random thought had just crossed your mind.

“Wait, who actually carried me all the way back to camp?”

Astarion scrambled to push himself up once more and gave you a glare. “Really? That’s what’s on your mind right now?”

You shrugged: “I guess.”

The vampire’s glare became even more intense. Then it snapped to mischievous glint really quickly. He let one of his hands drag through his hair dramatically and sensually and said: “Oh, darling, couldn’t you believe that I valiantly carried you here like the knight in shiny armour that I am?” You wouldn’t even have believed him being able to pull you here with your face dragging through the dirt.

“It was Halsin, wasn’t it?”

You received another death glare. Then Astarion just sighed in defeat and wrapped himself in your arms again.

“Yes it was. I was the one who undressed you though.”

“Of course you were”, you replied with a wolfish grin although Astarion couldn’t see it. The vampire groaned in annoyance

“Now, if you please, let me enjoy this moment in peace, you idiot.”

And so you did. Holding onto Astarion as he held onto you. Both silently smiling and not even that afraid anymore of what tomorrow might bring.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 companions #staeve #astarion x staeve

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harrysonlylover · 2 months

Text

Karma Rules (Mechanic Harry Part 6)

Summary: A phone call from Niall and its aftermath changes your perspective. Can a fairytale be fixed?

Warnings: alcoholism, drunk harry, over drinking, unhealthy coping, miscommunication, angst, mentions of alcohol abuse, hangover.

Please do not read if these trigger you.

Wc: 8k

A/n: Please keep in mind that this is just fan-fiction and some bits about the hangover may not be 100% true, as every individual is different than the other and deals with it in an another way.

Rereading part 5 is good for refreshing your mind!

This is also the final part!

Part 5

When it came to receiving good and bad news, people generally preferred getting the bad news first so that the good ones would soothe them. You followed that preference as well, but you didn’t always have a choice.

Not when you moved away from home, not when your car broke down, not when you discovered the truth about your “job”.

And certainly not right now.

The phone was still pressed to your ear, Niall’s voice was coming out muffled and incoherent. Your heart was banging against your ribcage, and still, the blood barely reached your other organs. You couldn’t move, or put two and two together. Not even ask him what happened.

The room was suddenly dark despite the lit light bulbs in every corner, the clock necklace that you didn’t even get to thank Harry for was ticking around your neck. It was the only sound you could hear as if it was torturing you on purpose.

Tick tock.

A reminder that whatever happened to Harry was your fault. Maybe if you had stayed—

It wasn’t an ideal timing for your brain to taunt you and make you feel pathetic. Niall’s voice was calling for you, asking if you were listening but you were simply trying to pull yourself back to the present.

Your body fell against the sofa, and you dug your nails into the cushions. The clock was still piercing your ears because you could grab it right now and reverse it but you won’t go back in time to change whatever had happened.

What did he get himself into?

“Are you listening to me?” Niall’s panicked voice urged you to focus. You were obliged to ignore the nausea and the guilt your brain was throwing already. Because that’s how things went every time, you only needed a simple situation for your brain to torture you.

“Can you repeat what you said?” Your throat was as dry as the desert. You thought about standing up and getting a glass of water, but you’re not sure if your hands would be able to hold it.

“It’s Harry! He’s fucking drunk—way too drunk. He doesn’t drink Y/n, he hates alcohol.” His tone told you all you needed to know. It pained Niall to say it like he was on the verge of tears.

Was he talking about the same Harry that drank herbal teas and scolded your food choices? You were somewhat worried that he might have gotten into a car accident at a race, but he didn’t. So why does this feel worse?

“I—what?” It wasn’t the best you could say in a conversation like this, but it was better than the radio silence.

“Listen, he’s in a really bad state. He’s lucky that he’s a bit conscious.” He sighed, clearly worried about his friend.

It was nearly nine, not so late in the evening. For how long was he drinking to get to this state? You never saw him drink nor did he open the subject. Your legs moved before you processed what you were doing.

“I’m coming.” You spoke as you headed toward your bedroom.

“I didn’t want to stress you, and I know you’re wondering why I chose to call you but he’s been mumbling things about you.” You stopped in your tracks at his last sentence, your fingers placed at the light switch, too numb to move.

“What did he say?” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“I—don’t know, it was all weird and—“ His voice was cut off as his attention turned to Harry. He mentioned some things about drinking water and lying back. The last thing you expected was for Harry to speak.

“Did ya know that she smells like strawberries?” It took him longer to say the sentence than normal. It came out slurred with hiccups, and a small laugh.

“Shit—drink water H.” You could hear Niall pouring him a water cup.

“Sweeettt. Y/n is sweet.” Niall didn’t have to answer your previous question, you were witnessing it yourself.

It is said that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and that scared you more than it comforted you. Niall was trying to soothe Harry, and get him to have that cup of water but to no avail.

“I’m not nice. She deserves nice.” His words weren’t as coherent but you caught some stuff through the speaker as you put on a random jumper and sweatpants.

“I’m coming Niall.”

“You don’t have to—I’m here.” He moved away from Harry whose voice got distant but was still mumbling stuff.

“No, I’ll be there shortly.” You hung up before he could object.

It would take you around 15 minutes on your bike, normally you avoided going out when it was dark but you didn’t have any rational thoughts swimming in your head.

Your mind was consumed by him the entire road. Why would he do that? Just because you left? But again—you were no one to him. Just an employee. So why did he mention you and blurt out weird stuff?

He might have kissed you and let down his guard a couple of times but that didn’t mean anything, right?

It’s surely not a big deal, everyone probably knew that your hair smelled like strawberries, that you’re sweet, and deserved someone nice. Or did they not?

You had nothing in mind on what to expect, you didn’t even know what you were planning to do—but you weren’t going to sit around at home while he was in this state.

All the overthinking kept you busy until you reached his house. The little yellow home that reminded you of warmth, is now radiating coldness. You dreaded going inside, fearing what would be awaiting you.

Was it your fault? Did that mean that you mattered to him?

You got off your bike, grabbed your bag, and headed slowly towards the front door. Niall must have left the door slightly open for you, but before entering—something jumped at your legs.

You looked down to see an antsy Snowbun circling around your feet.

“What are you doing out here?” Per your knowledge, he should be asleep in his small bed by now. You picked him up and cradled him in your hands.

“Are you running away from Harry or Niall?” The latter was his sworn enemy. Snowy replied by twitching his ears, earning a smile from you.

“Let’s get inside, shall we?” You scratched the top of his head before turning the doorknob and entering.

The once vibrant house filled with music sounding from the record player, and the smell of home-cooked meals was now dull and cold. It could be the open windows allowing the night breeze to sneak in, or the absence of Harry’s energy.

Everything was a mess.

The living room was untidy, and there were broken shards of glass around the floor with the smell of whiskey lingering in the air.

It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but it somewhat reflected Harry’s state, as his house could mimic his inner feelings. Snow Bun jumped out of your hand and headed towards his bed in the corner.

For a hot minute, you thought that Niall left considering how empty the house felt, until you heard his voice coming from Harry’s room.

“Hey—just lay here.” Niall seemed like he was trying to convince Harry to rest. You sneaked a glance inside the room, only to find Harry attempting to get up and walk—towards you.

“Not dreaming.” He let out a small laugh upon seeing you.

Niall sent you a soft smile before directing his attention back to Harry.

You have never seen him in such a state. His face looked like he had aged a hundred years, his eyes were tired and hollow, and he was barely conscious.

You stood motionless, trying to process his situation, what he had done and most importantly why.

You wanted to step forward and assist Niall who was lifting him to the bed, but your body was stuck in its place. You have seen your fair share of situations and were always unaffected, but Harry had an unusual effect on you, and maybe—you did too.

“Shortcake.” He hiccuped again, accepting the cup of water this time. He took two sips only and rested his head against the headboard.

You were aware of his direct stares, but you didn’t speak or move. You bit your nails as Niall tucked him under the duvet. He was slowly dozing off by the minute, with less mumbling that you didn’t quite catch.

The room went silent except for the sound of crickets coming from the window. You stole a glance at Harry who sounded so relaxed while sleeping despite his disturbed state.

You let out a sigh of relief once you were sure that he slept, at least he would get some rest.

“How much did he drink?” You whispered to Niall with a scratchy voice.

“The whole fucking bottle.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and motioned for you to leave the room.

You closed the bedroom door and followed him into the living room. He began picking up the shards of glass, so you kneeled to help him.

“How did you know that he was drunk?” Niall was visibly upset with what went down, he was his close friend after all.

“I didn’t… I just happened to pass by. I haven’t heard from him in a while.” He shook his head in disbelief, so you assumed that whatever this was, it wasn’t common.

You picked up the remaining pieces and disposed of them in a bag. You arranged the rest of the living room silently with Niall, but the silence was just too loud.

“Niall?” He turned his head to you.

“Yeah?”

“Most people get drunk—like it’s not right but it happens. Why did you freak out?” Your curiosity was getting the best out of you. You weren’t dismissing Harry’s state—it just didn’t make sense.

Niall dropped the broom to the ground and took a seat on the couch.

“Harry has had a rough past y’know? It wasn’t ideal.” You sat down as well, giving him your attention.

“He had an abusive alcoholic father. It’s not my place to say much, but it left an impact on him.” He spoke as if Harry was his biological brother. It was clear that he cared for him deeply.

You swallowed down your throat upon Niall’s confession. He hated alcohol. It must have reminded him of darker days. He barely opened up about his childhood to you, but many things clicked for you.

“I’m sorry that I troubled you. I was just shocked because he never got drunk, let alone drank in the first place.” He clasped his hands together and spoke with sorrow.

“He was in the worst state ever. I couldn’t understand why he kept talking about you.” He swiped his hand through his hair and gulped down a cup of water.

“What did he say?” Your voice was timid and small like you were dreading to know the truth. It may deny or confirm something.

“Stuff about you being an angel, that he messed up?” He shook his head, trying to remember some details.

“Also that you were too delicate or something.” He scrunched his face at his lack of memory, unaware of your expression.

Is that what Harry thought of you? It was so overwhelming to find out all of this within a short time frame when his actions did not reflect what Niall was saying.

You didn’t doubt that Harry was a good man, not at all. But to hear these words so casually, as if they weren’t the sweetest things you have been told—

“Sorry—I didn’t know he had feelings for you.” Niall broke the silence.

“Feelings?” You questioned, attempting to control the tears that were threatening to fall.

“I mean—the way he spoke about you…it was emotional. I called you because I thought he’d need you.” He scratched the top of his head, rethinking what he had done.

“It might have been something destructive because he never drank—“ He didn’t complete his sentence, and stared at the wall instead.

He must have caught on to your cluelessness and took a step back. You were picking at your nails with your head lowered down. Everything hit you like a rollercoaster and you needed space.

“You don’t have to stay Niall. I can manage.” You assured him.

“I can stay, I don’t mind.”

“You’ve done a lot already. You’re a good friend.” You tipped him a smile and he understood the cue.

“If you need anything, just call me.” He stood up and walked towards the door, before giving you one last glance and leaving.

Conveniently, Snow Bun ran in your direction as soon as Niall was out of the door. The little bunny jumped on your lap and got himself all cozy.

You instinctively patted his head and cradled him. A few tears fell down your cheeks against your will. You pushed back everything you were thinking of and walked to the refrigerator.

“Are you hungry? Harry probably couldn’t feed you.” Just the thought itself made you incredibly sad for no reason. Perhaps, it’s the fact that underneath it all, Harry was just a guy who loved his privacy and spent time with his bunny.

The more you recalled nice gestures that he did, the more tears fell. You weren’t sobbing, but everything was hitting you all at once. Whatever you processed this evening was hard to consume, even in small doses.

Snow Bun immediately began nibbling at the strawberry you offered him. You couldn’t help but recall when Harry fed him in front of you, it was a happier night.

You’re glad that he feels safe to take food from you. Was he able to sense Harry’s mood?

You offered him another strawberry which he ate comfortably like a baby. You placed two more for him in his bowl and cleaned up around the house to pass the time.

There wasn’t much to do, a few dirty pans, messy pillows and blankets all over the place, and a bit of Snowy’s dry food that fell out of his plate.

You opened more windows and lit a candle to allow the whiskey smell to fade. Thankfully, the broken glass was the first thing you and Niall cleaned up—but you were still skeptical about it.

You picked up the broom that Niall dropped earlier and cleaned under the couch to make sure that there was no glass left.

You felt a sharp pain in your chest upon wondering how it shattered. Did he lose his balance and drop it? Or did he do it out of frustration?

Your train of thought was interrupted when the broom collided with something. You could feel that it wasn’t glass, so you pulled it in your direction and reached your hand under the couch to grasp it.

It was a notebook.

It was already open, and your eyes landed on what was written. You flinched, feeling disrespectful for taking a glance despite not helping it. You wouldn’t want someone to look through your journal—but your eyes were glued to the words.

A few lines were scribbled at the top of the page including your name with Harry’s handwriting that you memorized so well. Yet, these lines were blurred out due to the scribbling—but you could make out the word ‘apricity’.

Underneath them were the clear unscratched lines that made you let out a silent gasp.

Starry haze, crystal ball

Somehow, you’ve become some paranoia

Just like a nepenthe

But your gift is wasted on me

You allowed your fingers to touch the paper, to make sure that this was real and that you weren’t hallucinating.

You quickly moved on to the lines under them and your knees nearly buckled.

I was thinking about who you are

Your delicate point of view, I

Was thinking about you

The last line ended on a whim and was more of a question than a sentence.

Just you?

You closed the notebook and threw it on the couch like it was poison. You were breathing heavily and your legs carried you straight to the refrigerator for the cup of water you’ve needed since Niall called.

You gulped down two cups frantically as if it would help you process or erase what you read.

Finding out that Harry most likely drank because of you, and might have had feelings for you was enough. But to see that he wrote lyrics about you?

Maybe it was scary because it was a concrete confirmation. It shut down the overthinking and the endless questions just with a glance at a piece of paper.

The suffocation was threatening to close up your chest, not caring about the soft night breeze and the lit candle that smelled like Harry.

It seemed as if his secrets were unfolding with any action that you took. There’s only so much you could handle in one night, so you laid down on the couch. You will sleep here, you won’t leave him alone.

You covered yourself with a blanket and were soon joined by Snow Bun who made himself comfortable next to you.

You contemplated grabbing a book from your bag but even that doesn’t seem to work anymore.

You wondered what could soothe a person if not books.

Still, there wasn’t much you could do. It was close to eleven and you would soon fall asleep—but until then your mind would get the chance to torment you.

What will you do when he wakes up? Will you have the courage to ask him about everything? Does he even want you around?

These questions and many more went through your head as you shifted on the couch. Though, that seemed to annoy Snowy who was trying to sleep, unaware of all the troubles.

Being a bunny is quite easy. ——————————————————

Harry struggled to open his eyes. His brain didn’t aid him and was not functioning properly, the same way car engines fail to roar. A tiny grunt left his lips, he was attempting to regain his consciousness, despite being overwhelmed.

A sharp pain stemmed from his head, the one people get from being beaten with a bat. He felt out of place as if he switched bodies with a completely different person who neglected themselves.

His bones and muscles didn’t ache—but the fatigue was embedded in all of his atoms.

Another grunt was elicited, followed by a hiss. The morning sun sneaked through the window, casting its light on his tired figure. It burned his eyes and worsened the pounding headache he felt.

His mouth was dry like a man who hadn’t taken a sip in days, he could feel it with every grunt as he swallowed down his throat in an attempt to hydrate his system.

“What the—“ He mumbled, forcing his eyes to open again as he collected the energy to raise his hand and shield his face from the sun.

The neurons in his brain worked hard to transmit signals. He needed just one memory to recall—a reason even to understand what led him to this state.

He buried his face in the pillow, relieving himself from the sting of the morning light. He groaned as the headache became unbearable.

What did he do last night?

The few cells that got to work urged him to connect things and conclude a reason—the headache, fatigue, and memory loss all pointed towards the unthinkable.

But no, he wouldn’t. Right?

He possessed great self-control, confided his sister in when he felt suffocated, and would never allow himself to resort to a destructive outlet.

No matter how torn he felt, how maimed and beaten his heart was—he prided himself in needing no one and repressing his sadness.

Right?

His muscles worked together to lift his body slowly. He supported himself on the mattress with his hands and observed his surroundings with squinted eyes.

Everything seemed normal, nothing was out of place. The bedroom was tidy and neat, the way he always maintained it.

Yet, his attire had him confused. He never went to sleep with his work clothes, he either slept shirtless or with a clean tank top.

He couldn’t help but bring his hand to his temple. The pain was unbearable, flashing like thunder and echoing in his skull.

Attempting to piece some bits of information together was a tough task, let alone when he couldn’t quite remember whatever went down the previous day.

His senses gave him a push until his brain connected some dots and realized what his mouth felt like besides dryness.

It was Whiskey.

“No—“ It would be a reasonable justification. His body warned him when he first opened his eyes, but he was in denial.

Fatigue, muscle aches, headache, thirst, and in his case— feeling like absolute shit.

“What did I do?” He groaned, in response to his pain and stupidness.

He’s had his fair share of atrocious headaches and fatigue, yet he was never subjected to immense emotional maim that led him to this state. Not even in his younger years. He vowed to never touch a bottle in his life. He had a few beers as a teenager, but that was the extent.

He never wished to become a spitting image of his sperm donor or inflict harm upon others using alcohol.

Something that he must have done.

Recalling the cause of his ache was effortless; not because of its intensity or his functioning memory. But because he simply could never push someone like you out of his mind, even when he was in a foggy state.

“Y/n.” He whispered under his breath.

He was in shambles upon reading your letter. He needed an outlet to empty his pain. A pain that he inflicted upon himself and you.

It was an internal battle; treating you like shit to push you away, when all he wanted was to hold you and kiss your soft lips.

How could he even dare to have you? The most delicate being he ever met. You were an angel that fell on earth accidentally. Maybe god was searching for you, but Harry wanted you selfishly to himself.

He didn’t deserve you, well no one did actually—but a boy could dream.

Your soft aura and charming personality would never fit in a million years with his dark heart and destructive thoughts. You were so delicate that he feared breaking you, and if that ever happened, he’d never forgive himself.

He was a weak man when it came to you. Your contagious smile, books, warm personality, and kind manners. Love was never on his agenda, he didn’t even have any vision for his future. Nothing but his career maybe, but of course, you’d tip his scales over.

You became his dream, someone that he wished he could have. He didn’t realize that his heart was betraying him, leading the tide against his rational thoughts.

In some way, he was a prisoner of your presence. You simply had to walk inside the room he was in, and all his problems would evaporate.

Even when he first met you, despite his cold tone and expression, he was deeply enamored by you. He never wanted to find out information about a person this bad, he needed to know who you were.

He didn’t consider himself a dedicated reader, sometimes a book here and there but—a philosophy he once read stuck with him.

The philosophy of Descartes, his dualism, and the notion of mind and body being distinct, yet intimately related. It was logical to him to a certain extent but as of late, Harry created his philosophy.

The mind and body were foes; often joining together to set up a scheme. This scheme was to torture Harry. His body belonged near you, but his heart kept him up at night. They were allies for once, simply to dismantle his sanity and imprint invisible bruises on his body.

And so they managed to trap him, render him a fool in front of you, and destroy any small chance he might have had.

He gathered all the energy left in his fatigued body and got up from his warm bed. The sun’s rays burned his eyes yet embraced his skin lovingly.

He wondered why Snow Bun wasn’t next to him, it was against his habit but maybe he was just roaming around the planted strawberries again.

The first thing up was brushing his teeth, getting rid of the awful smell was essential. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do this again.

The sight of his tired face in the mirror had him double checking. When did it get so unbearable?

For most people, this was barely an issue—but for Harry, it tipped his life upside down.

He doesn’t go well with emotions, communication or even figuring out what the other person wants.

“Shit.” He splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a clean cloth and drying it.

He would need a while to feel better again, to accept what had happened, and avoid leading himself to that state.

He had a quick cold shower to give himself the illusion of being clean, even when his system wasn’t. The fresh set of clothes and cologne elevated his mood, and the sting of the water helped with his headache.

He needed a nutritious meal despite the nausea bubbling in his stomach. Besides, where the hell was Snowy?

Harry reached for the doorknob as wet droplets from his hair fell on the ground. He barely advanced a few footsteps before stopping in his tracks.

He had an inkling that his feelings toward you, and the letter you left influenced his actions last night. But, seeing you asleep on his sofa with his bunny cuddled to your chest was not on his list.

He stood in the doorway with barely a few breaths coming in and out of his nose. As if a time traveler somehow arrived at this moment and froze his body.

Could he still be dreaming?

He wasn’t worthy of your presence, not even in his dreams.

He didn’t even deserve the wasted sun rays that hugged him earlier. They should’ve poured their focus on you, just like they were doing this instant. Your skin was covered with gold, somehow glistening more than any other human being. This is how an angel sleeps, he thought.

He was so jealous of the sun, envious even. It got to kiss every inch of your skin and keep you warm, unlike him.

The golden color stretched to your perfect hair, shut eyelids, and soft raspberry mouth. Your chest rose slowly, even your breathing was delicate.

He didn’t blame Snow Bun for liking you one bit, even a bunny knew how pure you were.

He didn’t mean to stare like a creep, but funnily enough, his pet blew his cover. Snowy awoke from his peaceful sleep and disrupted you in the process.

You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the moving bunny who had enough sleep. It seemed like you did too as your body felt satisfied with the hours you rested during.

The room was bathed in sunlight and warmth, and surprisingly to your right—was Harry standing motionless.

“Harry! You’re up.” Your legs moved before your brain processed anything. You were up on your feet in no time, facing a confused yet tired Harry.

“H—hi.” He swallowed down his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Your hair was all over the place and you couldn’t tell what your face looked like, but you had to check up on him.

The night went by quickly, and the next thing you knew, he was standing next to you, hopefully sober.

“Pretty shit.” He pressed his lips together, ignoring Snowy’s thumbing on the floor.

For an unknown reason, his response elicited a tiny giggle out of your lips. One that eased his headache.

“I—“

“Do you remember anything from last night?” You beat him, feeling way too curious.

You had a plethora of things to say and discuss, stuff you should’ve said long ago.

“Just a bit. Not the entire picture.” He bit on his tongue, feeling the blood drain from his body.

Standing in front of you, seeing you, and hearing a question that was brought up yesterday triggered a sudden flashback.

How Niall dragged him to bed as you stared at him with fear and worry.

So he fucked up again.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out before you managed a response.

“What for? You barely remember what happened.” You shrugged.

“Everything.” He averted his gaze downward in shame.

It was out of a movie scene, two individuals facing each other in a sunlit room, way too stuck in their heads to see right what’s in front of them.

This moment was ageless. Your torn expression and his sorrowful face. Your sympathy and his regret. A powerful duo indeed.

Only in instants like these was silence positively uncomfortable. The silent eye contact back and forth, uncaring for the ticks of the clock, or what lies behind the eyes. The invitation to open your hearts broadly for one another, without shame or hesitation. Just two young beings diving into each other’s souls, passing control over to their bodies and hearts; even if they betrayed them.

He offered you an immense amount of vulnerability that he’s never given to anyone, simply by eye contact.

As if your souls had a secret language that they used.

“I—“

“Well—“

You spoke at the same time before stopping in shock.

“You speak first.”

“No. You talked first.”

He gestured for you to speak, and you swore you have never seen him this polite and held back.

“Hmm. I know this isn’t an ideal timing and that it’s quite rough for you right now. But how about breakfast and a mature conversation?” You asked with your bottom lip hidden between your teeth.

“I’d love that.” He nodded with a weak smile. The only one you managed to get from him for what felt like ages.

You refreshed in the bathroom while Harry prepared breakfast. It was similar to when he cooked you lunch. The same aroma drifted in the air with the sound of the oil sizzling and the same warmth that radiated from the house.

But this time, it was more awkward knowing that a conversation awaits. What were you supposed to say, and should you take the initiative of starting small talk?

You washed your face with water for the second time, dreading the return to the kitchen. You offered to cook since you knew he wasn’t feeling well, but he insisted saying ‘It’s the least he could do’.

Snowy managed to follow you to the bathroom (after he had his breakfast), and you smiled at his excited thumping.

“Let’s go.” You cradled him and returned to where Harry was using his chef skills.

He looked up the moment you walked in, offering you a gentle smile. Your heart ached at his gesture for no reason.

“Are you feeling okay now?” You cleared your throat as you sat on a stool near the counter.

“Somewhat…My headache is a bit better.” He scratched his head, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, moving your attention to Snowy who was clueless and happy in your lap.

“I remembered some stuff.” He mumbled rather quickly as he flipped chocolate chip pancakes.

“Oh?” It was a good sign because you didn’t know how to tell him that he randomly mumbled stuff about you.

“Um, yeah…” He remained silent for a few seconds and checked in on the delicious scrambled eggs he was preparing.

“I’m sorry you had to see that last night.” His words reeked of shame and guilt. There was a sense of vulnerability in what went down, and for a man like him, it would be a hard pill to swallow. After all, someone else had seen his weakness.

“Harry, I—“

“No, just let me say a few things.” You hadn’t expected him to begin talking now. But, it seemed that you were too busy admiring his tired face to notice the plate he slid in front of you.

“Eat please.” He gestured to your plate with concern when he was the one who should be fuelling his body.

“You need it more.” You argued, with signs of worry flashing over your face.

Sweet sweet shortcake, Harry thought. Always putting others before you.

The look of determination on your face was evident. Besides, could he ever say no to you?

“Look, I’m eating.” He grabbed a pancake from his dish and took a bite.

You swallowed thickly and joined him in taking small bites of food. He felt more full just by watching you eat contently. He tried to ignore the whirling thoughts in his brain, whether or not you had dinner last night.

“I’m sorry again.” Harry gathered his courage and looked into your kind eyes.

“It wasn’t your responsibility to help me, nor Niall’s.” An undertone of pain was hidden in his voice.

“And it was all very immature of me.” You could tell that it was hard for him to maintain eye contact, you’d struggle too if you were in his place. So, you averted your gaze away to relieve him.

You didn’t interrupt him, it was clear that he had many things to say.

“I ruined your evening, made you worried, and had you sleep on an uncomfortable sofa.” He swallowed down his throat, with his fingers digging crescent marks on his palm.

“I’ve put you through so much just because I do not know how to communicate.” He shook his head in disappointment.

“We’re humans, we kind of designed to miscommunicate.” You shrugged.

“Not to this extent shortcake.” His eyes held the key to everything. You used to think of him as an enigma, or impossible puzzle. But now, he was like a flowing river that held all of his thoughts that had been pressing to come out.

“I—It’s not an excuse but I’m not a fan of alcohol and I’ve never been drunk.” He swiped his hand through his hair, finally caving into his anxiety and averting his gaze.

Going with the flow and confessing that you knew was not an option. You wanted him to open his heart out instead of making him feel like he was already exposed.

“And my father was an alcoholic—“ He took a deep breath and remained silent for a few moments.

“Harry, you don’t have to push yourself to talk.” You whispered despite being alone in the room.

The signs of tiredness on his face were somehow getting worse, and a single tear slid down his cheek. Your hand immediately reached out to wipe it, making him stare lovingly.

He didn’t reply verbally. Instead, he softly grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with his eyes shut as if he were pouring something into the kiss.

“Sweet shortcake.” He gave you a hint of a smile as he gazed into your eyes.

“A fly wouldn’t dare to hurt you, yet I did.”

“Stop blaming yourself.” You grabbed a strawberry from his plate and brought it to his mouth. He accepted it contently and went back to silence.

The staring was not unpleasant like you thought it’d be. It was a continuation of standing in front of each other in the living room. Just two souls speaking in a different language.

He caught you off guard by breaking the silence with a shocked yet joyful expression.

His hand reached out to your neck where the necklace was dangling beautifully. He ran his fingers over it, before turning it backward and smiling at the engraving.

“You wore it.”

“Of course, might be my favorite necklace so far.” His smile was so broad that he seemed as if he had forgotten all about life’s worries.

“It suits you.” He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Because it’s special. Uncle George gave it to me and told me all about it after I left your garage.” You unintentionally broke the joyful bubble by reminding Harry of the awful events that led to this moment.

His expression slowly fell until his hand retracted away from the necklace.

“Harry—about that letter, it was immature of me. I should have faced you—“

“It’s completely your right. I’ve been so fucking shitty. I didn’t even deserve an explanation.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m serious. You wasted your kindness on me.” His hands were under the counter, but you had an inkling that they were shaking.

“I have a lot to explain and—“ He continued to ramble vigorously.

“H, breathe.” You stepped off the stool and went to his side.

He was rushing to tell you everything, not giving his body or mind a chance to process because he needed to explain himself. He’d go on his knees if he had to. His anxious rants and fast train of thought were nothing but an outcome of fear.

Fear of losing you.

A small part of him still believed that no matter what he said or did, you would still leave. Even if he ripped his heart out and gave it to you as it leaked black blood on the kitchen floor.

So he fired with everything that made him vulnerable, just to keep you, or at least the thought of you if you allowed.

And you knew that, god you knew. It had you fighting back tears as you faced him.

“You’re still very tired. And we don’t have to talk about every single detail right this instant. You need to rest, we both do.” Your hand caressed his cheek softly, and his face unconsciously leaned in.

“We need time to think, feel, and process what happened. I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I just won’t work for you anymore.” You weren’t the best confronter, but judging by the look in his eyes, you weren’t doing so bad.

“And—when the time is right, we’ll talk about many things.” It was your turn to tear up now, and of course, he mimicked what you did earlier by wiping your tears away.

“Can I say one last thing?”

“Yes.”

“You have bewitched me, body and soul.” He took pride in saying it, his eyes raking all over your face to save your reaction in his memory.

The slow appearance of your dimples, the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the realization dawning on your face followed by the most adorable giggle he has ever heard.

“Did you just quote Mr.Darcy!” You covered your mouth with your hand.

“He’s my number one inspiration.” His dimples made an appearance and god you’ve missed them. They brought joy to his worn-out yet beautiful face.

There was a certain undertone to his statement that had you holding back another giddy smile. One of them indicated quite the resemblance between him and Mr.Darcy. How he was cold towards Lizzie at first when he was simply smitten all along.

‘He’s my number one inspiration’

Was your story similar to theirs? Was he your Mr.Darcy? Bitter yet soft when faced with the possibility of losing you?

Another suggestion that knocked the breath out of your lungs was the sentence that would follow.

‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, love you.’

He didn’t utter it, but the idea of him even quoting your favorite book ever sparked goosebumps all over your skin.

“How did you even know what he said?” His eyes were glued to your smiling face, and if he ever lost his memory, he begged any existing divine being to only keep this sight of you.

“I read it.” He confessed proudly as if he were an Emperor flaunting his possessions.

The bluebirds have arrived and made themselves comfortable near the window. They would soon begin their orchestra as scheduled.

“You read Pride & Prejudice?!” You gasped unintentionally, causing a faint blush to creep up his cheeks.

He hummed with a grin threatening to break on his face and chewed on some eggs as you admired him.

You ached to ask him why he read this specific book. A part of you knew, but the other part craved to hear it.

Harry read your favorite book.

“Actually… speaking of reading.” You swallowed down your throat and readied yourself for your confession.

He turned his attention to you, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“You read a new book?”

“No—I’m in a reading slump honestly. My first one.” Your face fell, something that he immediately noticed.

“Oh—“

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, dismissing the issue. It did pain you but that wasn’t your current focus.

“What I wanted to say is that—I was cleaning some broken glass yesterday…” His jaw clenched at the mention of the glass. He didn’t think about the mess he caused, and bringing it up brought the guilt back.

“And I found something.” You were still trying to articulate proper words, but his facial expression saddened you.

Harry couldn’t decide if his brain wanted to pour its attention on blaming him for the broken glass or think about the ‘thing’ that you found.

“Yeah?”

“I did not mean to look—actually that’s a pathetic excuse.” You covered your face with your hands and let out a small groan.

“My eyes landed on some written stuff and I couldn’t stop reading your notebook.” You blurted it out as fast as possible, with an antsy body language.

“Shortcake—“

“I’m really sorry…that was rude of me, but I—“

“Calm down.” It was ironic how he managed to soothe you with two simple words.

“It’s all good, m’kay? Besides, the poem is about you shortcake.” Another proud confession left his lips as if what he said wasn’t so destructively beautiful.

You were always the reader, and never the writer. But Harry canceled both possibilities and made you the muse.

“I meant every word, and I always will.” He whispered as if the bluebirds would hear him and steal his sacred poem.

You could feel your eyes swelling with tears, your left knee was shaking and you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry this is a lot to take in.” You covered your face from embarrassment.

“No pressure, shortcake.” He assured you with a thousand knives going through his heart.

Snow Bun broke the tension by thumping repeatedly until Harry kneeled, and picked him up.

“Someone wants attention…” Harry chuckled before Snowy jumped out of his lap, straight to his plate on the counter, and helped himself to strawberries.

“…or my strawberries.” He shook his head in disappointment for falling into Snowy’s trap.

Your laughter echoed in the room, overshadowing the birds’ songs. A laughter that healed Harry, and reflected his happiness.

“Do you want more food? Are you full?” He gestured to your empty plate.

“Thank you H, I’m all good. I think I’ll head home now.” You got off the stool and grabbed your bag from the sofa.

“Yeah—Okay. Let me dress up quickly to drive you.” He was heading towards his bedroom before you stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I have my bike.”

“I insist, it’s the least I could do—“

“H, stop saying that. I promise I’ll be fine on my own.” He studied your facial expression to try and figure out if you genuinely do not need the ride.

“Besides, I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night, you should rest and I need some fresh air.” You tipped him an honest smile that had his heart pumping.

“Sure, whatever you like.” His hands were in his pockets as he stood facing you.

‘I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night’ had him frozen in his place.

It toyed with his heart and messed with his blood pressure. You said it so casually as if it didn’t indicate that someone cared about him—and not just anyone, it was you.

His shortcake, his delicate girl.

You walked towards the front door as Harry watched with intent eyes. After a few steps, you stopped and turned around in his direction.

He was taken aback by your action and straightened his posture.

“I’m really glad that you’re safe.” You blurted out, as you looked into his emerald eyes. He didn’t get the chance to form a response before you engulfed his body in a tight hug.

His hands immediately wrapped around your body, savoring what you offered. You warmed him up in a few moments more than the sun that woke him up.

A whiff of your strawberry shampoo was stuck in his nose and that was all he needed to feel better.

Somehow, his hands were perfectly molded for your waist, and your height was perfect for him to lower his head and lay it against yours.

Despite his wishes and dreams, you pulled away from the hug with a soft smile painted across your face.

“Bye, H.”

“Bye, shortcake.”

It was an easy departure, not filled with heavy weight on your chest or guilt. The complete opposite of your arrival last night.

You weren’t trying to avoid Harry when you said that it would need time, but you knew that some space would do good for both parties. Pondering and reflecting was a necessity, especially for Harry.

The yearning to hear Harry’s explanations remained nestled deep inside you. Your patience would undergo a practice with a small hint of knowing what was coming.

For once in your life, you didn’t jump to conclusions stemming from your anxiety. What you felt, heard, and saw was enough.

You didn’t want Harry to rush everything because you could feel how the sentence was on the tip of his tongue, along with quoting Mr.Darcy.

He had feelings for you, and it was mutual.

You allowed yourself to feel the giddiness and rush while simultaneously acknowledging past events.

What led you to write the letter, Harry’s coldness and ignorance but also his sudden moments of warmth and kindness.

Denial wasn’t an option for you. You felt attracted to him since day one, and rightfully so. As for his feelings, you’re yet to delve deep into that topic.

Time does not heal, but it’s more of a breather. Last night was emotionally charged, but it somehow changed your life upside down.

He didn’t specifically confess his feelings, and nor did you. But you kept going back to those moments of silence when your souls had a quiet chat against your knowledge. Perhaps they confessed then because you really know.

If you were to think deeply about it, Harry did the one thing he vowed to never do just because he thought that he lost you for good.

It pained you to even consider it, but that indicated how much you meant to him.

Drinking to punish himself, his poem, his apologetic sweet face, his urge to spit out every single excuse his heart held, and his body that held you as if he was shielding you from the world.

He was the man you read about in your books, with all of his good and bad traits. In fact, he was better than them because he was real with a beating heart that you listened to when you hugged him.

The past would not be forgotten, it would be vaguely memorized to learn from your mistakes as human beings who were designed and destined to commit mistakes.

The next best thing after sunshine, books, strawberries, bunnies, and poems was second chances and fresh beginnings.

Even with the knowledge that many mature conversations await you, there was something comforting about this morning that carried a whiff of warmth in the air.

Harry liked you, and you liked Harry.

Taglist: @matildasatellite @xxrosebunny @novasblogofstuff @gem1712 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @miasdelicatepov @jessitpwk @tiaamberxx @peacheskiwi @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tbsloneely @20031990s @prettythingsworld-blog @st-ev-ie @slut4marvelmenn @missmielyhoran @a-strange-familiar @wandas-lawyer @cherrycokeslay @blepskies @that-daydream-look @hslt-2809 @ivegotparticulartaste @epidxte @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @harryssideboob @malwtilda @harrysficreblog @hsonlyangelxo @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @epidxte @indierockgirrl @annesauriol @leenameh @scottisantman @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @nysworld @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @rueluvsharry @lomlhstyles @infinatetatie @igglepiggle22 @namelesssav

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disabilityreminders · 9 months

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Tips for Cleaning

Cleaning is one of those tasks that a lot of us find exhausting, overwhelming or just overall daunting for a number of reasons. It could be related to executive dysfunction, disabilities or just feeling overall burnt out.

While it’s a good reminder that your space not being clean doesn’t affect your worth in any way, sometimes being in a mess makes us feel worse and we really want to fix it. The question is, where can you start when it’s already so overwhelming?

Please keep in mind that a lot of my suggestions might not work for you personally. And if that’s the case, that’s really valid but hopefully they can help you come up with your own ideas!

This might be more overwhelming for some, so don’t do this if you think this wouldn’t work for you. But for me personally, I like to go into a room and make a list of that room. This list might include wiping things down, sweeping, moving garbage, etc. I do this for any and all rooms I have the energy for. Having a written list makes it feel less overwhelming to me. I can just pick an item and cross it off. I tend to cross off the quicker/easier items first because making my list look smaller makes it seem more manageable. You can break the tasks down as much or as little as you want. I personally like to have “wash dishes”, “put away dishes” as two separate tasks while others might just want to put “dishes.”

If you can’t think of things to put on the list, I find that googling some generic cleaning lists helps me get started and reminds me of what tasks to include.

Now I’d like to share some general tips for cleaning when it’s overwhelming that help me!

Break it Into Little Steps

There aren’t really any major rules for cleaning. Things got a lot easier for me when I realized I don’t have to do it all at once. When I’ve had the dishes pile up in the past beyond a point of manageable for me, I made a deal with myself. Every time I went to use a new dish, I had to wash that dish and one other dish (or a couple utensils). This ensured that the pile gradually got smaller each time I used a dish but made it a manageable amount for me.

The same can be said for things like folding laundry. I would fold a piece anytime I walked into my bedroom. I would pick up garbage anytime I walked by it and toss it. Over time, it felt like it looked more manageable and I was able to just focus and get it all done. Sometimes we find this helps us jumpstart the task because for me, starting is the hard part. But once I start, I’m able to keep going. Telling myself I only have to do “two dishes” or “dishes for 5 minutes” made it seem a lot more manageable to look at it as a small thing. But often I’d find as I got going that I was able to keep going.

Combine it With Something You Enjoy

For me, cleaning while doing something I enjoy has helped a lot! I love to fold laundry while I watch my comfort show. It’s one of those tasks that I can do while still doing something I love. I find I don’t focus so much on the folding and the pile is getting smaller before I know it.

Some other ideas of things you can do:

Listen to a playlist that makes you feel pumped up (maybe even have a dance party if you're up to it.)

Listen to an audio book or podcast

Have a show playing in the background that you enjoy

While it’s considered its own thing as “body doubling” sometimes, having company helps. Even if that’s just talking to a friend on the phone, or even texting with a friend while we both clean our own spaces. It’s kind of like an accountability buddy and leaves me feeling like I’m not doing it alone.

Make cleaning a game! This might include things like picking a colour and then only dealing with things with that colour like only folding blue clothing, washing blue dishes, etc. This might include rolling dice and assigning certain tasks to certain numbers. Or it might be something silly like cleaning while pretending you're your favourite character or even something like a robot. You could use mannerisms or phrases that they would use and react to things how you think they would. (It might be fun to pretend to be a villain having to do your own chores because your "minion" disappeared for the day. How unimpressed would they be? What would they say while they folded laundry?)

Adjust the Tasks to be Easier for You

One thing that holds me back from cleaning is I’m in a lot of pain usually. Things got a lot easier for me once I realized that I can make adjustments as needed. For me, even though I can’t do it all at once, I found sitting to sweep was really helpful!

Other ideas:

Use disposable cleaning wipes. There are even disposable options for toilet wands and things like that! I found the act of filling up a bowl with hot water and cleaner to be the thing that would freeze me. Just grabbing a wipe, or using a spray and paper towel was a game changer for me.

While a lot of people do this already, I’ve heard others that don’t but I definitely recommend soaking your dishes in hot, soapy water. It makes them significantly easier to wash.

Get a duster with an extendable handle so you don’t have to get up on chairs or things like that.

Invest in a grabber tool. This is a tool that can be used to grab things in hard to reach places, or if you have difficulty bending.

Get a chair that's easy to move around. This can allow you to do tasks like sweeping or wiping stuff down while sitting. I personally have a rolling chair!

Some General Tips

If you’re finding it too overwhelming to start, try setting a timer for something like “10 minutes” and then see what you can get done in 10 minutes. You could start by grabbing all the garbage, or clearing a table or something that’s straight forward and can help you start.

Don’t overdo it. It’s okay to pace yourself. In fact, you should. Take your time getting caught up, and once you do, try to do something small every day rather than trying to cram a lot into one day.

It’s okay to just do one thing. This kind of ties back into how I caught up on my dishes. My friend has to pack to move and she’s having to organize her things into what she’s packing, donating, or discarding. She made a deal with herself that each day she would handle a set number of items. (A number like 5, 10, or 15). If you need to de-clutter, planning on finding just 5 items a day to get rid of might be a good place to start.

Find some structure. I personally like printing a cleaning planner that breaks down my weekly, monthly and sometimes tasks that are every few months. It also helps me because I’m not sure how often I should be doing things like cleaning out my fridge, or bigger tasks like that. Having a check list and when I should be doing it helps a lot.

It’s okay to ask for help! I know that we often feel ashamed of asking for help, or showing someone our space if we don’t think it’s clean enough. But it is absolutely okay to ask a friend for help. My friend regularly found laundry exhausting and overwhelming. When it fell behind on her, it paralyzed her. I would go and fold her laundry for her. And it helped her feel less bad about that when she’d do me a favour. (For example, she loves to cook and I’m often too drained to, so she made me some meal prep.)

Find products you like! I love using certain scented products and while I never get excited about cleaning, there is something I enjoy about smelling them!

Focus on one room at a time if you can. When it’s overwhelming, I even just pick a corner of the room and work my way out.

Reward yourself! This might not work for everyone, but I love doing this. If I do this one task, then I get to do something fun. I’ve actually assigned tasks certain point amounts because I love seeing my “points” climb up and then I get a bigger reward at bigger numbers. (Also I always recommend cute stickers for your lists!)

Take a before picture or video. Sometimes, we find that we can’t see progress despite being at it for awhile. It’s easier to forget where you started and seeing the progress can be really motivating!

You don't have to follow a set of rules! What I mean by this is it's okay if you don't put away your dishes. Just because you've been taught that's a part of doing dishes doesn't mean you have to put them away. If it doesn't bother you, it's totally okay to leave the clean dishes in the sink and use them as needed! Try and get it out of your head that you need to follow a certain set of rules and do what's right for you.

Cleaning is overwhelming. While a cleaner living space can make us feel better mentally, I do want to remind you again that living in a mess is not a moral failure. You aren’t less worthy if you’re in a mess. You are still worthy, valuable and enough as you are.

#cleaning tips #my post #tips

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box-of-roses · 3 months

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.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅. I hear you .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

♡ Synopsis: You can hear the thoughts of your soulmate; What happens when Sakusa finds out you’re his soulmate and tries to plan the perfect way to tell you

♡ Characters: Sakusa, Y/N

♡ Possible Warnings: Mentions of tests and failing, good old fashioned teasing

♡ Words: 2.3K

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Series Masterlist

From the moment you’re born you are able to communicate with your soulmate. No one is exactly sure how it works but their thoughts become yours and vice versa. A lot of the time what you hear is nonsense. Since everyone grows up with it constantly in their brain it’s easy to filter out the nonsense from actual conversations. Let’s start from the beginning though shall we?

Y/N is born. Maybe not quite that early, let’s skip ahead to the first coherent conversation you remember with your soulmate. It was just after you had failed a test, which was shocking because you believed you had done well on it.

‘Hey, I don’t know what’s going on over there but will you stop panicking?’ Hearing a voice in the midst of your stupor made you jerk your head up and look around. Seeing nothing on the horizon your brows furrowed and your lips contorted into a frown. ‘Did your parents or teachers not talk to you guys about soulmates? We communicate in our heads.’

That made much more sense as to why you could hear someone talking to you but couldn’t see anyone. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me, your panicking made it hard to focus.’ You rolled your eyes at that and stood back up. ‘Just go ask to retake the test if you’re so worried about it.’ That was actually a good idea now that you had thought about it.

And thus the first interaction with your soulmate. Even if they were a bit blunt. You didn’t have many conversations in the early years of your lives. As you approached High School though the conversations came much easier.

‘What high school are you going to?’ You looked down at the three papers in front of you.

‘I’m not telling you that. You might be my soulmate but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a creep.’

‘You’ve literally known me your whole life and can hear what I’m think.’ You rolled your eyes. It was a bit of a habit when dealing with your soulmate. ‘I’m stuck between a couple. We can meet generically if you want or we can go to school together.’

‘Itachiyama.’ What?

‘That’s where I’ll be going to school.’ You felt a smile growing on your face at the news. You pulled out your laptop and began filling out the entrance form.

‘There’s no guarantee that I’ll get in but I’d like to meet you. Talking to you is nice.’

‘I enjoy talking with you too. Now go to sleep, we’re on the same time and I don’t want to listen to you complain about not getting enough sleep.’ It was little things like that. They reminded you that this was in fact your soulmate. Not just a friend that comes and goes. Someone you're with for life, for better or worse.

‘Goodnight K’

‘Goodnight N/N’

You had gotten into the school. Yet you still hadn’t met your soulmate. Well, that’s not entirely true but you didn’t know that you had met your soulmate. The universe works in mysterious ways.

‘I can’t believe it’s been months and I still haven’t met you.’

‘Maybe you have and don’t know it. It is a possibility. It’s a big school and we’re bound to cross paths at some point.’ With a laugh you finished off your notes.

‘I don’t want to force too much. I think it’s a bad idea to figure out a time or place to meet, I have faith in the universe that we’ll meet at some point.’ Tempting the universe too much was never a good idea. Enough movies and shows have taught you that much. Although, it was tempting. Why would it let you get into the same school? Be in the same vicinity but never meet. Not truly at least. Questions for once you found him.

You at least knew that much. Your soulmate was a him, his friends teased him relentlessly for smiling if you said something funny. That he played a sport, and that you two were at the very least friends. You had details but they were still vague enough that it made it difficult to find him.

Day in and day out you would look at people in your classes and wonder if he could be one of them. He of course laughed at you when he heard the thoughts run rampant in your head. If he was in your class you didn’t know, what you did know though was that he was happy you were looking for him. ‘I’m glad you’re looking for me.’

‘Wow? I never expected such a statement from the reserved K’ You smile as you scribble on your paper. Hearts, lines, letters. ‘My mom wants me to join a club.’

‘Which club do you want to join?’

‘Aren’t you in a club?’

‘Yes.’ He wouldn’t tell you which one no matter how many times you asked. “It’d be too easy if we narrowed it down.” He would say. That’s the point. Years of having this voice in your head and no face to go along with it. It was a little frustrating. Your eyes scanned your classroom, many of your classmates had found their soulmates. Purposely going to the same school and meeting each other. The difference between you and them was that they pushed the universe.

You and K had a delicately practiced dance. You would push and he would pull, sometimes he would push and you would pull. Memories of the high school conversation passed in your head. It had been so easy to get that information from him. Why was this so hard? Shaking your head you packed up and went to the bulletin board to see which clubs needed help. What caught your eye immediately was volleyball. You enjoyed the sport well enough. The team was looking for a manager.

‘I think I’m going to apply to be a manager of a sports team.’

‘Maybe it will be mine.’

‘I hate when you do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘I say something and you tease me for being hopeful.’

‘Maybe I was giving you hope.’ You hadn’t thought of it like that. You had always thought of it as him shutting down your attempts. Maybe he was giving you hope, he told you what high school he was going to. He told you he was on a sports team. So now here you stand looking at the sports section of the board and the first thing your eyes landed on was a almost hidden away post.

‘Did you hang up a post?’

‘If I did you wouldn’t know. If I didn’t you still found one that caught your eye and are trying for it. Take a jump. I’ll try to catch you if you fall.’

‘That was cheesy, even for me. But, thank you.’ With newfound courage you walked to the gym, it wasn’t loud since it was before practice. The team would be away on lunch at the moment. You quickly found the coach though. “Hello, I’m here to apply for the manager position for the volleyball team.” You smiled and held out your hand after approaching the man. He looked at you and nodded. He shook your hand and gave a run down on the things you would be expected to do.

“If that’s not too hard you’re welcome to the position. Show up here Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Thursdays as well but that will mostly be a quick stop to let me know if you see anything that I don’t catch and their grades and such.” You nodded along to the information with a wide smile on your face. From what you heard of the team they were really good. And there was a silent hope that you would meet K here.

“Alright, see you after school then coach!” You left the gym and went to lunch yourself. ‘K! I got the position!’

‘That’s nice, why are you yelling though?’

‘Because I’m excited.’ You huffed and sat down at your table. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch.’

‘We literally talk the whole lunch period everyday. Why are you so worried about it? Did someone say something?’ You smiled at his thoughtfulness. The more you two talked the more thoughtful and caring he appeared.

‘No, I’m just nervous for my first day on the job.’ You knew he was rolling his eyes at that.

‘No need to be nervous. You’ll probably be doing easy stuff and getting introduced to everyone.’ You knew he was right and it was silly to be nervous. You were still nervous though. What if you meet him and he doesn’t like you? ‘Stop. I can hear what you’re thinking, remember?’ Oh. Yeah. That.

‘If we meet I’m sure I’ll like you.’

‘You can’t know that for sure! What if you find me annoying?’

‘You’re not. Lunch is almost over, go to your last classes and then we’ll see if you picked my team.’ You were still nervous but he worked at reassuring you. Even though it didn’t calm you completely it was still nice.

One last skip for now. No one wants to sit in their thoughts. Or at least it’s not healthy to. Let’s see how you’re doing as a manager shall we?

Once you arrived in the gym again you began setting things up. It seemed you were early. Oh well, the coach said that it would be helpful to set up on days you got there before everyone else. Once the net got set up you went searching for the volleyballs. They’ve got to be around here somewhere.

“I would check in the storage closet.” A sudden voice shocked you and you jumped. You turned around and came face to face with one of your classmates.

“Komori right?” He nodded.

“I’ll check with you, the others should be getting here soon. Sorry you had to set it up by yourself.” He seemed nice, you had very minimal interactions in class but you always knew him as kind.

“It’s no problem, I’m your new manager so it was the least I could do.” He smiled at you as he showed you the cart of volleyballs.

“You’ll be meeting my cousin today. Don’t mind him, he can be a little off-putting when you first meet him.” Okay, well that was worrying. ‘K, I met one of the team members and he’s already told me to be careful of someone.’

‘You’ve got this, I wish I could talk but I’m about to start practice and I don’t think either of us wants me to get hurt.’

‘I don’t know, you’ll have more time to talk to me that way.’ You smiled and of course Komori noticed. “Soulmate?” You kind of forgot he was there but nodded.

“Yeah, apparently he’s about to start practice and made a joke.” Komori nodded and helped you push the carts out into the gym. The team had arrived by the time you guys had gotten back. One of them caught your eyes though. The tall dark haired boy. Sakusa. A lot of girls in your grade talked about him and how they wished he was their soulmate. Your cheeks heated up when you remembered you had a soulmate. Now was not the time to be gawking at boys.

‘Who are you gawking at?’

‘No one!’

‘Mhm, like I literally didn’t just hear you tell yourself to stop looking at someone.’

‘It’s nothing, one of the people on the team is just cute that’s all.’ You rolled your eyes and put on a smile before introducing yourself to everyone. “Hello, I’m L/N F/N. I’ll be your manager starting today. It’s lovely meeting everyone.” You stood back up and gave them all a smile. You noticed one of the players stiffened at the interaction. Maybe that’s what Komori said when he said his cousin could be a little off-putting.

You let them get to practice after that though, not wanting to hold them up any longer. Your eyes didn’t leave Sakusa though. He was mesmerizing to watch play. He looked like he enjoyed it. A stark contrast to him looking disinterested a moment ago. Get it together Y/N.

You had been spacing out for so long that it was time to pack up when you finally returned to reality. Komori said he would help you clean up but surprisingly Sakusa also agreed to help. Doesn’t he hate new people though?

‘You have that effect on people. No one ever hates you.’ Your cheeks heated up and you almost dropped the volleyball you were holding.

‘SINCE WHEN WERE YOU SUCH A FLIRT??????’ You placed the ball in the cart and looked around to see if there were anymore as you tried to calm yourself down.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t feel very good listening to you gawk over a guy for my entire practice.’

‘MAYBE IT WAS YOU???? EVER THINK ABOUT THAT???’ Not seeing anymore you turned back around to push the carts back to the storage room.

“Hey L/N, why do you look so flustered?” Komori being ever so helpful to point it out made you even more flustered.

“Because my soulmate decided to be unhelpful and flirt with me.”

“They don’t usually?” It was Sakusa’s turn to chime in now.

“No. Or at least not so obviously.” The boys helped you put the carts back. ‘Thank you so much for that. Now you’ve got people questioning why I’m acting the way I am.’

‘You’re welcome. Get home soon, it’s getting late.’

“Well, it was nice to meet you guys but I need to head home now.”

“See you later L/N”

“Yeah, see you.” With that you left the gym excited that you made more friends.

And with that chapter one is complete. I’m going to write the first chapter for all the installments of the series before continuing with a specific one. So, stay tuned for those! My askbox is open if you would like to request something and love you guys! Hope you enjoyed!

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

Taglist:

Masterlist

#haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff

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onesidedradiostatic · 1 month

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Out of the other current overlords, it’s kind of impressive how relatively fast Vox came into power, compared to other overlords. (Who I assume made their ascent starting from scratch/their arrival power level and rising up the ranks, taking over industries from smaller overlords and sinners, inheriting territory, etc. Particularly since the other overlords’ “domains” aren’t as modern or niche as Alastor and Vox’s. Dealing in weapons and sex has been a thing since forever. Example: Valentino could not be the first sex industry overlord, he’s just the current one. Possibly the same for Carmilla)

TV being a new competitor to radio, Alastor could have taken Vox out immediately. But he didn’t. We don’t know Vox’s power level on arrival, but he was promising enough to work with Alastor, who i think is likely the reason Vox was able to become an overlord as effectively as he did. Asides from Vox’s own skills, he potentially owes a lot to his alliance with Alastor, I think.

Despite Alastor not owning any turf that we know of, he did have a hell-wide network- a advantageous foot in the door for Vox. It also didn’t hurt that Alastor had already eliminated a huge number of well-established overlords, so there were less threats and competition for Vox, and more power positions up for grabs. Alastor would also be providing Vox with backup and protection, allowing Vox with his persuasion and business skills to flourish. I’m thinking about that time earth had higher oxygen levels and bugs got huge. Vox is a very lucky bug, arriving in such a beneficial Hell.

Vox may have inadvertently provided the same assistance and protection to Valentino and especially Velvette. Supercharging their paths to overlordship, a speedrun! Passing Alastor’s favor forward.

The downside to the Vee’s fast and easy ascensions- all reward with little effort- is that it makes them very ignorant idiots. Carmilla is right. The Vees are like two generations of overlord nepotism. Velvette might be the backbone of the Vees but Vox is the jacked arms and legs doing most of the Vee body’s work. Val is just the off-putting dick in the metaphor. I don’t know.

oh yeah I definitely think vox got his footing thanks to alastor. though I didn't actually think about how that makes it so ALL of them technically had someone backing them up to ascend quickly, for better or worse, that's interesting to think about. thank you anon 🫡

#ask #osrs.txt #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #the vees

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blueteller · 3 months

Text

TCF Theory: What If God of Death Had a Reason for Kidnapping Minors?

(Hey, @murasaki-cha, I might have a theory that could sorta maybe redeem your pathetic little meow meow! 😂)

[Also: SPOILER WARNING for... basically everything in TCF?]

So, here's the thing:

It's no secret I always had… issues with the God of Death for kidnapping the Chois.

Let me clarify a bit.

What he did to Kim Rok Soo, aka. Cale, was not okay either – however! I can see it justified somewhat by circumstances: he was cursed, his life was generally depressing and terrible, and there was a world in need of saving. Honestly, the deal with the Original Cale Henituse to switch the two of them was best for all parties involved. (I'm still angry he did not ask Cale himself for permission, though! All the God of Death needed to do was tell him: "Look, this is the world where your BFF Lee Soo Hyuk reincarnated into. And the world is going to be destroyed in about 20 years if nothing is done about it. Would you mind cleaning that up for me?" You bet your butt Cale would have agreed fair and square, even if he were EXTREMELY miffed about the deal. But it's so much easier to simply hide your involvement in the transmigration, so that Cale doesn't have a personal vendetta against you once he gets OP, right…? Not that it succeeded, lol. Cale still ended up cursing the God of Death a lot)

However – all of what I just said? NONE of it applied for the Choi family member.

First, we have Choi Jung Gun, aka. Nelan Barrow. Let me remind you, the kid was FIFTEEN. Freaking 15!!!! The God of Death kidnapped a literal CHILD with no combat experience, and dropped him in the middle of an active war zone! Sure, technically Super Rock was there and presumably took care of him – but still, that was an objectively a terrible thing to do, God of Death! Bad boy!! 🧹🧹🧹

Then we have Choi Han, and ohhh boy, he had even worse somehow! Even though he was 2 years older than Choi Jung Gun when he got transported, he still ended up in the freaking FOREST OF DARKNESS. Weaponless, isolated, under constant threat of death. It's a miracle Choi Han did not die or completely lose his mind – and in a sense he did – but he was still able to retain a piece of himself, NO THANKS TO YOU GOD OF DEATH. My goodness! What a way to treat your "chosen hero ", mister!

...as you can probably tell, I was pissed enough at the God of Death for kidnapping poor Choi Jung Gun, but I am NEVER forgiving him for what Choi Han went thought. Should have given him something! A letter, a sword, or at the very least – A FREAKING MAP!!!

Aaaand finally we have Choi Jung Soo. Which was a bizarre case in comparison to the previous two. Even the God of Death remarked how unusual it was.

First of all, consent was asked – WHAT A TWIST! 🤣

Secondly, Choi Jung Soo was already an adult, and experienced fighter. He'd have a much better time in Nameless 1 world than any of his predecessors (excluding the fact that he'd have a TERRIBLE time trying to fight the White Star; who may I remind you possessed Kim Rok Soo's face... Also, did he even get to read "The Birth of a Hero"...?). He was also on the verge of death. AND he allowed to say no!! It was much more fair than what happened to the other two.

...But why though? Why the special treatment, God of Death? Why not kidnap Choi Jung Soo as a kid as well? The timing was kind of strange.

So here my theory comes in.

What if, it wasn't the God of Death who determined the timing of the transportation? What if there was an outside factor involved? Just because there seemingly wasn't a strict pattern to WHEN the Chois got transported, that doesn't mean there couldn't be one.

An outside factor like, let's say.... the Hunters? 🤔

From his behaviour in the Sloth Test, we know that Choi Jung Gun absolutely hates the Hunters. And it seemed very personal too. Even if we take it for granted that the Hunters were responsible for the existence of the Original White Star and the war and all that... It was still VERY personal. Like, "I will tear you to bloody pieces with my bare hands and chew on them with my teeth" level of personal. So, what gives?

Then it hit me.

The Five Colored Bloods Hunters are Wanderers who can freely travel across dimensions. They targeted young Kim Rok Soo, because he had a "mark" of the God of Death on. They assumed it could be a sign of a Single Lifer, and it did not matter to them if it necessary to kill him just to "check". The only reason why Kim Rok Soo survived was because Choi Jung Gun was there (even though I have issues about his execution – using a minor as BAIT?! Not cool man! Almost as bad as the God of Death!). Without him, young Kim Rok Soo absolutely would have been killed. And the way Choi Jung Gun was acting in the Sloth Test made it seem like it wasn't the first time something like this happened either.

Meaning: the Hunters were already on Earth 1. They have been there.

So, what if... the Hunters had already targeted the Chois in the past? Including Choi Jung Gun himself?

Think about it. If the Hunters had any clue that this particular lineage could produce Single Lifers... they'd certainly keep an eye on the Choi family, right? There would be no need to directly interfere. Just, watching them from the sidelines and let them produce next generations. Spying on their kids – like the total creeps they are.

And perhaps, there was a particular sign of a potential Single Lifer to watch out for, that could manifest around adolescence? What if Choi Jung Gun showed such a sign at the age of 15?

Instead of simply using him as a weapon to save another world... was the God of Death actually trying to save Choi Jung Gun? By transporting him into another dimension??

It would... kinda make sense, right? By transporting Choi Jung Gun, his "Single Lifer power" activated. His lifespan became much longer, he developed an Ancient Power too. He was initially weak, but he grew stronger overtime. Strong enough to stand up to the Hunters and protect himself; and also taking him away from their immediate reach.

...What if the same happened with Choi Han? What if Choi Han became a target at the age of 17? And the only way to save him was to transport him as well? I mean it worked with Choi Jung Gun, why not try it a second time? If the first one became a powerful ally who could fight the Hunters, the God of Death would certainly like another one on his payroll, right?

And then there's Choi Jung Soo, of course. Maybe he escaped the scrutiny of the Hunters? Or maybe because he developed powers which made him a harder target? Why would the Hunters bother with difficult opponents when they can always play dirty and go after literal children, instead? There is also the issue of the Monster Apocalypse, as Cale suspects the Hunters were behind it as well. Maybe the Hunters had a different plan for Earth 1, and so they had to stop using it as hunting grounds for Single Lifers?

If I'm right about this, then the God of Death's actions became a liiiiitle bit more understandable.

I will forever criticize the man for not asking at least three of his victims (and don't try to give me some bull about him being "unable to", God of Death used various means to communicate through the story; Choi Jung Gun even freaking wrote "The Birth of a Hero" books for the sole purpose of giving necessary exposition to a transmigrator – more than that, if he had enough space to simp for Whales and provide Harol's backstory for no reason! He could have included ANY type of message in there, to ANYONE!), but if Choi Jung Gun were to literally die if he did not get kidnapped and transported into a war-torn dimension in need of saving... Well? Saving someone's life via transmigration might be unconventional, but I've seen it happen a lot in many isekai. I can roll with this.

...But seriously tho, I hope Choi Jung Gun makes that broom beating a regular thing. The God of Death certainly can use it. You know – for emotional intelligence improvement! 😏

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count's family #god of death #tcf god of death #theory #tcf theory #tcf meta

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yuri-is-online · 4 months

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Happy Holidays! I’ve been on a bit of an angst fix lately, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to brainrot in your inbox about it.

I’ve been thinking about a scenario where Yuu just finally snaps. I mean, an entire school year of being trapped in a foreign world with no certain hope of seeing your family again, being forced to contend with (at least) 7 life-or-death scenarios, the massive egos these teenage boys have, and probably at least a little bullying from the NRC students for being magicless. I mean come on, I love our boys and all, but a lot of them are kind of awful people. There’s no way a regular person’s mental health survives that.

And maybe Yuu, tired of it all, packs up what little they have and leaves. Surely their prospects couldn’t get any worse than at NRC. Maybe Yuu tries their luck at RSA in finding someone to help them go home. Maybe Yuu just wanders until they find somewhere where they can be something. Would they even leave a letter behind explaining what happened to them, or would they just assume no one would care anyway?

I just want some more Yuu angst lol

Do you have any thoughts on this?

Happy Holidays to you too annon! Everyone is welcome to brainrot in my inbox, especially about Yuu. And I do have some ｢(ｰﾍー;) but I might be a bit nicer to the NRC boys than they deserve.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, more fleshed out fic can be found on my masterlist here. SPOILERS FOR UNRELEASED CH 7 CONTENT. CW for abandonment issues, ptsd, bullying, and just general ignorance on the part of the OB boys. Heavy on the angst, this is a mega oof tm of a post.

I want to start off by saying that, in my personal opinion based off of the in game voicelines and vignettes, that the various NRC boys do like Yuu and enjoy having them around. They think of them as the same of any other freshmen student at NRC, which is sort of the problem.

The average NRC freshmen has magic, a dormitory with a housewarden responsible for "guiding" them, and a family they can fall back on if things get rough. The average student has a basic understanding of the history of the world they live in, of it's pop culture, it's food, it's clothes, and a bunch of other things that they might not think about because of how ingrained it is in their very being. Yuu has none of those things. They don't even have a cannon club which I think is more meant to allow players to have head cannons, but since we are talking angst I have wondered if since Yuu and Grim are one student, any club Yuu wanted to join would have to take Grim as well and no one wanted to deal with that. So Grim started his own "club" and Yuu just takes pictures of birthday celebrations and events they aren't able to fully participate in for the school at Crowley's request.

Ace's first reaction to Yuu is to bully them for not having magic. Deuce admits to having done the same thing as when he was a child, and is very embarrassed by it. We don't really see Yuu getting outright bullied outside of this, but given how the faceless students reacted to Deuce being excited for Starsending, yeah I think Yuu has had to deal with some bullying. And while I do think Adeuce (and the rest of Heartslabyul really) would stick up for them, it wouldn't make it stop. If anything it just gets sneakier and Yuu, not wanting to cause any problems, does their best to cover it up. Something about keeping a stiff upper lip or a smile better suiting a hero and all that.

The overblots is a whole separate issue. We get two real apologies, one from Riddle and one from Vil, who again do not take Yuu being magicless in to much thought. They think of Yuu highly! They are a housewarden of their own little dorm! And they take such good care of Grim and the others, not to mention all those overblots you survived! Not many mages can claim that but you can! What could you possibly have to be stressed about?

As if that isn't the entire problem. As if anyone understands where Yuu is coming from. As if they even would care if they did.

They might be just as capable as any other freshmen, but when school ends, hell even when it goes on a break, they have no where to go. They were stripped from their friends, family, and especially their belongings, including money and autonomy! I have some thoughts about my own Yuu wanting to be nurse in her world, but given how much of even basic medical care seems to rely on magic in Twisted Wonderland I wonder if that would even be a career path any magicless person could take. We know a lot of them work at Styx because they don't risk blot accumulation, but even cooking is done with magic (if it can be) in Twisted Wonderland! How would you feel if you had your heart set on being a doctor, worked really hard to get good grades and took up a part time job to save for college/university only to be transported to a different world with different laws of physics completely against your will. A world where all that hard work is meaningless and you might not be able to accomplish those dreams of yours. And! AND AND! If you get upset about it, that will be seen as a weakness on your part and no one will care.

Because hey, they had to work for what they have. Why can't you? They didn't ask to be born with magic (even though they would have probably) so there is no use crying about things you can't change. Ruggie and Jamil do seem to feel a bit of sympathy to Yuu's plight, but neither of them think twice about exploiting Yuu for their own gain. Sure it might be unfair, but life is in general! It's not their fault, they aren't to blame. And that's really how all of NRC sees it, they aren't to blame for Yuu's circumstances, so they aren't owed any special treatment.

How Yuu snaps and what they do because of it would really come down to how you hc your Yuu to be. My own personal thoughts come back to personal autonomy a lot; I don't think Yuu has much of it and that would grate on me constantly. I could see Yuu hearing their friends talk about their plans for the future, and though Ace and especially Deuce try to include them in the conversation they can't add much. Ace applauds them, says "we need to take things easy! We're still freshmen..." and drones on about how he just wants to enjoy school life. And maybe Yuu does too, but they have no concrete answer about whether or not they can get home. They don't have the support system that their classmates do, so there really isn't anything waiting for them after the school year ends. Yuu feels so helpless, and they don't have the words to explain how they feel, because how could they?

If Malleus's overblot ends without any real repercussions (which I doubt it will but hey, I am like 65/35 on whether or not he apologizes to Yuu specifically for almost killing them I will be so pissed if he doesn't) I could see everyone else making fun of Malleus for loosing while Yuu just. Stares off into the distance, trying really hard not to cry in front of people they are convinced will make fun of them. This has all been scary, things like this just aren't possible in their world and they aren't mentally prepared to face death again.

And they are convinced they will. You can say overblots are rare all you like, but Yuu has practically seen one once a month ever since they arrived in this world. It is normal to them, and who should they trust? The lying headmaster or their lying eyes and ears?

If Yuu decides to run away, I think that the Ramshackle ghosts might try to stop them. Sure the headmaster sucks, but your ghost buddies really love you! And want to support you in anyway they can, so does Grim! He wants to be together for the next 100 years, and while he does really want to stay at NRC so he can be the world's greatest mage... I think he might love Yuu more. Just a tiny bit. He would play it off as him being too good for the school, or that he and Yuu are only one student after all so he will be expelled... but really he wants to come with because he will be worried about Yuu.

While going to RSA does sound nice on paper, Yuu doesn't really have a reason to go there. They aren't exactly on first name basis with any of the students we've met so far, and there is always the risk of Che'nya snitching to Riddle and Trey. Better to try and find a place where they can be something and maybe send letters to all the magical academies they can get contact information for to see if they can help. And also, to see if they will accept Grim as a full student, got to make sure he isn't sacrificing his dream for nothing!

The ghosts, realizing they can't convince Yuu not to leave decide to help. They already sell things at the markets downtown, so maybe they chat with some of their clients and convince them to let Yuu rent a room for a while. You have the option in Portfest to mention you have been to Craneport before, and I like the thought of Yuu having a part time job there. Maybe the ghosts explain that Yuu has no real family to go back to and Yuu's part time employer agrees to give them a full time job while Yuu figures out where they want to go.

Another thing related to personal autonomy, Yuu wouldn't have government documents if they just got isekaid out of the blue. I could see that being a huge issue for traveling to different countries and trying to establish a life. I also wonder if Crowley even did anything about that... but assuming he did since he (allegedly) talked to the school board about what to do with Yuu I think the ghosts would get them for Yuu on the condition they still come visit sometimes.

As for the note, I think Yuu would leave one simply because they feel like they didn't have the words to explain themselves out loud. And because they don't want to face the fight they know will come where everyone tells them to just suck it up and get on with it. These are teenage boys they are dealing with, their brains just can't fully comprehend the situation Yuu is in and they have given up expecting them to.

Just so we're clear, I think this would devastate Ace and Deuce, maybe to the point of destroying their friendship, at least for a while. Ace does think about Yuu not having magic, he wants to protect them. He says so when you level him to max, that protecting you will be easy, but clearly it wasn't. Clearly he failed you, and what does Ace do when he feels bad? He takes it out on everyone else and in this case especially Deuce. Deuce just feels stupid, which he already does a lot, but he really saw you as being around for the rest of his life. And now you aren't, and not for a happy reason like you got to go home. You aren't there because they failed you.

The others are a bit of a mixed bag I could do a separate post about but to hit the other big one...

I have no real idea how Malleus would react. I can see him thinking this means Yuu is afraid of him now, which I don't think he would react well to, but assuming this is post ob then he might be willing to take responsibility for it. It would certainly make him think, but how that thought would manifest? Outside of the obvious weather changes I do not know. I could see him being slightly resentful to his mother for cursing him to be hated by humans and loved only by fae when he so desperately wanted to be loved by one specific human. They were his first real friend, and he didn't treasure them in a way they found meaningful.

idk Yuu dropping off the grid isn't something I can see Crowley letting happen, but I can see why Yuu would want to try.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst yuu #my own yuu is supposed to be a delinquent type who spent some time in residential treatment #and worked really hard to try and not be like her actual criminal parents #but feels like a lot of that work has been undermined by being transported to a world where magic makes most of her talents irrelevant #so yeah i think about yuu angst a lot #i am yuu's biggest faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan i want good things for them except when i write angst

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love-bitesx · 10 months

Note

How do you think would Hobie calm down reader who is having a panic attack

i’ve had such an anxious day and then this drops into my asks, god has favourites. is this entire ramble just self-indulgent bc my ex was horrific with dealing w my panic attacks? maybeeeeee.

hobie brown x reader (TW: panic attacks)

first and foremost, before even attempting to figure out what’s wrong, he’s armed with a glass of water and a helping hand.

he’s had panic attacks before, and if not, then his close friends have, so he’s knowledgable on how they work, feel and how to help.

hand on your back, drawing soft shapes and sweet nothings onto your skin. he watches for a second, trying to gauge how you need him to help. he understands you might not be able to talk to him in that moment, but he asks anyway.

i don’t believe he’d kiss you (not during the actual panic attack at least, safety first everyone), or grab you and cradle you, or any kind of big explosive reaction, unless that’s what you specifically had told him. i think he’s gentle with you, moving slowly and carefully, asking your consent along the way to make sure he’s not gonna make it worse.

“s’this okay, darlin’?” he hovers his touch over you and waits for a trembling nod or any sign of agreement before moving forward.

if you say no, or don’t respond, he understands, taking his hand from you, and simply talks you through it the best he can from afar.

if you agree, and find comfort in touch in that moment, then he softly slips his hand into yours, bringing it to his chest, laying it flat against his skin.

“feel that? my breathin?” he takes a few exaggerated breaths, in and out with breaks to ground you, “breathe with me, can you do that?”

a major thing, is he doesn’t judge. if you’re hyperventilating, tears streaming, makeup running (if you wear it), he doesn’t even pass a single thought of judgement. he doesn’t flinch; if it’s scary or upsetting for him, then it’s 100 times worse for you, and he understands that.

“see, darlin’,” his tone is gentle and warm, coaxing you through the anxiety, “knew you could do it, aye?”

helping you sip the cold water, still holding your hand to his chest and guiding you through the breathing, his free hand comes to wipe your tears.

“when you’re ready, can you tell me what’s wrong?” there’s no pressure behind his words, he’s a very relaxed guy, outside of his spider-self, and doesn’t care if it takes you hours to tell him what’s wrong, his main priority is making sure you feel safe and grounded.

if you tell him, he helps you unpack it, giving you a shoulder to cry on and words of comfort that bubble the anxiety away. he’d probably crack tasteful jokes about it as well, affirmed by the teary smile on your face.

if you decide not to, again, he respects it. letting you know that if you want to, it’s safe with him and he’s just happy you’ve calmed down.

he’d cancel anything he had that day, spending the rest of it with you, doing whatever you require to calm yourself and destress. he’d probably play soft chords on his guitar for you, strumming mindlessly with your head on his shoulder, placing a kiss to your forehead every so often.

his main priority is always you, and your safety, so he’s constantly asking how he can help you best, ways you’ve found that he can use to calm you down, what you need, etc. and just generally be anything you need him to be when you’re plagued with anxiety.

just perfect.

my GOD i need him PLEASE.

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie #hobie spiderverse #spiderpunk #hobie x you #hobie headcanons #atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #spider punk

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silly-writes · 9 months

Note

Hi! I love your work! Can you do a Mike + alters, Scott, Alejandro (seperate) x reader where the reader has really bad sensory issues, especially with loud noises, and can have panic attacks from them? if your not okay with writing this then that’s totally fine /gen. it’s important to take care of yourself.

Contestants with reader who gets overstimulated.

Aaa thank u for this request anon! Yes i'm totally comfortable writing this kind of stuff! Thanks for being so kind about it! As an autistic person with really bad sensory issues myself I actually find it a thearputic, lol. Okay enough about me, enjoy!

Mike

dealing with a traumagenic disorder (DID) I would imagine he's honestly kind of in the same boat.

He's no stranger to panic attacks, and is pretty well versed by now in how to deal with them.

The first time it happens though he's sort of an anxious wreck, he's just nervous that trying to help might make it worse, but he doesn't want to leave your side.

He gives you lot's of words of encouragement, and helps you through breathing exercises, and gets you plenty of water.

"It's okay, breathe with me, I'm right here," he assures you gently.

If you require pressure/physical contact during your panic attacks, he's more than happy to give you that.

He gets good at catching them too, he'll always be able to identify when you're about to spiral because of too much noise or too bright lights, and he'll find a quiet secluded room so he can work through it with you.

"Sorry you have to deal with this too," you said, after a particularly bad one, you still felt dizzy, and tears still stained your face, but you had come out of it now, and felt a little guilty.

"Hey don't apologize, I don't mind. Not at all."

He's just very caring with this kind of stuff in general.

Manitoba

Maintoba is similar to Mike, and I would think he likes to carry around a backpack whenever he is fronting (you never know when you're going to run into treasure). So he always keeps noise canceling headphones and a pair of sunglasses in there just for you.

Honestly I headcanon him as the caretaker of the system, so I imagine he's used to caring for people during panic attacks.

He's very observant, probably even more so than Mike, so he's better at avoiding them all together by identifying what situations you can handle and what you can't.

He always does a little research before the two of you go out in the environment to ensure that it doesn't seem loud/bright/overstimulating.

However sometimes these things are just unavoidable, and inevitable.

He'll provide you with whatever physical comfort you require, if any at all.

Anything you need, he's there to get for you.

"Take all the time in the world treasure, I'll still be here," he said.

He's all around good at keeping you grounded, and just good at being there with you.

Svetlana

I would think Svetlana is probably the protector/gatekeeper, most of her comfort comes from her just being fiercely loyal.

She'll be there no matter what, and you take great comfort in that fact.

She's not as good with being traditionally comforting, since it's a little out of her element.

Not that she doesn't try of course, she really cares about you, and she wants that to come across.

(I would think she would panic a little and ask Manitoba and Mike for help from the inner world).

But she would absolutely stay with you, coaching you through breathing exercises, talking to try and distract you.

Eventually if you let her know what you need (be it space, a distracting, physical comfort, quiet, dark) you name it, she will get it for you.

She's much better at caring for you after the panic attack honestly, when you feel really tired and put out, disoriented and just overwhelmed.

"Svetlana's here now to melt all your worries away," she smiled at you once.

She'll almost always bring you home, or take you to a secluded room, and just hangout with you. She'll turn all the lights off and sit in silence with you so you can have basically zero sensory input for a little while.

She'll absolutely stay with you until you feel yourself again.

Mal

Okay things with Mal are a little tricky.

He's for sure a former prosecutor and after a bit of system healing, definitely prosecutor turned protector.

Don't get me wrong though, he can still be a little nasty and snarky sometimes, but he's working on getting better.

Which is why he feels sort of out of his element when he's with you when you're having a panic attack.

He's not good at being comforting, and he barely knows what to do when he has a panic attack, so the first time it happens he completely freezes up.

He might even let someone else front to help you out instead of him.

After a while he gets better at keeping up with your triggers, and while he remains pretty awful at being comforting, he's good at grounding you.

He's glad sometimes that being there is enough sometimes, he doesn't know what he'd do if it wasn't.

"Sorry I can't do more..." he said one day.

You smile at him "You being here is enough sometimes."

Scott

Scott is also somewhat of a wreck I would imagine.

Growing up fairly isolated on a farm he's understandably really rough with being intune with people's emotions, he's not really all that good at reading you. Or anyone for that matter.

The first few times, he's shocked everytime.

What could be making you feel like this? He had no idea.

He would definitely need a list of all of your triggers, you have to tell him what helps you and what doesn't outright. Scott doesn't really like playing guessing games, especially when it comes to your safety and comfort.

Clear communication becomes pretty important for the two of you in all honesty, and the two of you work at it all the time.

Eventually he gets better at serving you during panic attacks, or meltdowns, he knows what to do after a little while.

Again I would think he's really good at protecting, so I think he's super good at keeping people away when he sees you're overstimulated.

"Don't touch them!" he huffed when someone was trying to tap you to get your attention.

Overall, he's really really trying for you, and knowing that is comfort enough.

Alejandro

It's no secret that Alejandro is very intune with people, just one of his many skills.

So he can tell right away from his very first meeting you, any loud noises, bright lights, things like that just don't mix well with you.

He steers clear of them when around you, always guiding you more towards quieter, much calmer and secluded dates.

When driving he turns the music down, and makes sure that all audio input looks like its helping you and not harming you.

Plus I feel like (and this is totally me projecting btw) he would carry around stim toys for you to distract yourself with, and headphones for when things are a lot.

But again, sometimes things just happen, and try as he might to protect you, it's not always possible.

He can always tell when things are getting to be a lot for you, he's good at reading everyone but you in specific.

He's really good at covering for you, if someone is asking where you are, or needs/wants to talk to you when you need to be alone he'll keep them away from you.

He'll spend as much time as you need helping you.

"Are you feeling better mi amor?" He would ask.

"Almost-" you said, voice a little course and shaky "-sorry," you said softly.

"Don't apologize, I don't mind at all."

Alejandro can be really nurturing when he wants to be.

He might deny it, deny it to the ends of the earth but he's very good at taking care of you.

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fontainesiblingsbiggestfan · 2 months

Text

Lyney & Lynette with GN S/O's pet

notes: mod dont quite know what exactly to write about but thats fine cause can just make it up as mod goes on.. would post more but dont wanna overflow the tags with mods stuff and drown out other wonderful writers n whatnot! this is probably way worse than the last one so sorry if it sucks :( [btw rq reminder that u can request stuff, so look into that if you want something made for one of/both of these two.)

Lyney is pretty good with animals of all types pretty much!! Besides fish though, fish hate him (and no even in a scared way, they bite him.) As soon as he realizes you have a pet he instantly wants to befriend it, asks you what they're like, do they like to eat this or that..

Probably gonna have to tell him to not give your pet too many treats, cause he might overdo it a tiny bit while trying to make him their favorite. Would probably start bringing a treat for everytime he went to your house then explains it as him having to pay an "entrance fee". If your pet is able to/likes to play he might bring them a toy like.. Every two or so weeks? Whenever he sees a cute toy for their species he'll just get one for your pet.

If it's a dog, he doesn't have much experience with them due to various reasons, but he doesn't dislike them or anything (even if he does prefer kitties..) You might not want a big one on his lap or anything though since he's not neccesarily the biggest guy, so be careful with that.

Asks you if it sheds before he even enters the house. He needs to know cause nine times out of ten he just finished a show and he does not want pet hair all over his show clothes. If it is then he'll probably end up going home to change to avoid any issues regarding that.

Cats love Lyney 99% of the time, can tame even the craziest of crazies into lapcats. Of course, this is 99%, not 100.. The 1% wants him dead. Birds also tend to like him since he's used to working with doves and whatnot, used to dealing with them. Asks you if he can have it on his finger/arm. Also good with rabbits due to him also working with them, might scare it like once with a magic trick though since he might forget yours isn't really used to that.?? Feels bad afterwards though and gives it food as an apology so I suppose it's alright.

Lyney is willing to petsit and is good at it. If your pet destroys anything you own while your gone he might just.. Replace it and hope you don't notice. Would be a bit scared that you might get angry at him also for letting it do that or something. In general would describe him as a pretty solid person to keep around your pet with points deducted due to the issue of him spoiling the thing too much, 8/10.

Lynette is liked by cats, and they tend to gravitate towards her. So, if you have a cat, hurray! If you have a dog, however...

Dogs don't really like her, with the range going from them barking at her constantly to just ignoring her, depending entirely on the dog's personality. Don't worry, though; it won't really offend her. She's quite used to it, and besides, she isn't a dog fan anyway. She would probably ask you to put the dog up if it won't leave her alone, though.

A lot like Lyney, she is also good with birds and rabbits. But do keep in mind, just because she's good with them, doesn't mean they're good with her. Birds, unless having been subject to Lynette for long enough, tend to fly away from her. Not all of them, just most of them.

Rodents and the like also run from her. And amphibians. And fish. Her cat-like features and smell seem to frighten any animals that would qualify as prey to a cat. But again, she doesn't really mind; she expected this sort of reaction anyway.

She doesn't try to make them like her or anything, wouldn't even mind if they hated her. Still, that doesn't mean she would turn the animal down if it does happen to enjoy her presence; she'd not-so-secretly like it if they did. Lynette might even come to your house just to chill out with the pet (you being a small side bonus to the trip).

Pretty good petsitter, kind of. Lynette has her own cats at home, so she's used to being climbed all over or serving food and whatnot. As long as the animal isn't scared of her, it will go fine. Just pray to God you have no machines that she'd have to use in her time there, and she'll be fine, 8/10 (points deducted for obvious reasons).

#lynette x reader #lyney x reader #genshin lynette #genshin lyney #lyney #lynette #genshin x reader #genshin impact

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self-winding · 7 months

Text

I think part of the reason that terfs and redpillers (by which I mean the, shall we say less egalitarian strains of MRAs) are able to win so many converts is that many of their critiques of mainstream feminism are actually valid. Because mainstream feminism (and by extension, mainstream trans activism) is a weird, lurching, awkward Frankenstein monster cobbled together from several conflicting schools of thought stitched together with "common sense" attempts to appeal to normies. Also it's not internally consistent. Ask two feminists what it means to be a feminist and you will get two completely different responses.

Terfs and redpillers point out the obvious flaws. They say things like "people do not have some kind of magical ineffable gender essence inside them that's completely separate from both socialization and biology" or "feminism constantly downplays the ways that men are disadvantaged in society and refuses to admit that women might have any gender-based privilege" and it feels to onlookers like someone is finally daring to point out that the emperor has no clothes. Because that's kinda the case. And the onlookers are then primed to accept the ideologies that these folks are peddling, even though those ideologies are as bad as or worse than mainstream feminism. Because they think, "Well, if the other guys/gals are wrong, then these ones must have the Real Truth."

People don't like to do the work of picking and choosing individual ideas based on whether or not those ideas make sense, they want a package. They want a bundled deal, they want a preexisting set of values that comes with a community and all the validation that goes along with it. If their current package is riddled with flaws, then they feel like they have to choose one of the alternative ones.

But you don't actually have to. Most value packages are not actually internally coherent and consistent, because they evolve in a haphazard fashion based on aligned goals and networks of alliances and a lot of other unpredictable factors. You will generally get better results with an a la carte selection.

There is tremendous pressure against this from the package-dealers. Stuff like, "If you endorse even one idea from Camp X or if you say anything that sounds even vaguely like what they are saying, you are One of Them and you are tacitly endorsing everything they stand for and are partially responsible for the atrocities that the worst of them have committed."

But that isn't true. It's important to be able to say, "You know, this person has some truly awful ideas but also some important insights."

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brewsterispunkk · 1 year

Text

THE TUTOR

part 2/4

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader (period is mentioned), eddie munson x fem!reader

WC: 4.1k

summary: reader and eddie begin their little deal.

warnings: idiots. just idiots. also brief SA-- nothing explicit, just groping--NOT main pairing, recreational drug use

A/N: here is part 2! hope u love it! pls pls pls leave feedback ;) read it and weep.

Senior Year Bucket List

1) Get drunk

2) Skip Class

3) Do a drug

4) Sneak out

5) Skinny dip

6) Get a boyfriend, lose my virginity

You sighed and shook your head as soon as you’d written that last part, hands only half-shaking.

This was fine, you thought to yourself.

It wasn’t weird, you kept telling yourself. It wasn’t. Eddie himself had asked you to come to school Monday with an itemized list of what exactly you’d felt like you’d missed out on. “A bucket list of sorts” he called it.

You had to keep yourself from adding “feeling safe” to the list of things you’d felt you’d missed out on.

That was difficult for you sometimes.

For the most part, you’d been able to compartmentalize what had happened to you last summer: the deaths, the torture, the “mall fire.” The rest of Hawkins knew that you’d survived it, along with Steve, Robin, and the kids. You’d gotten away with minor bruising to the face and neck after a Russian tried to choke you in an effort to get you to talk. It wasn’t ideal, but it could have been worse. Steve had been the one to take the brunt of the torture. You and Robin had screamed yourselves hoarse while they beat him in the other room.

You sometimes still had nightmares about the sick sound of their fists hitting his face.

When you’d emerged as one of the survivors of what they were calling the “Starcourt Mall Fire,” your mother had been relieved. After your father had split when you were ten, you were all she had. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the effects of what had happened to you. To be fair, neither were you. Neither were any of you.

You’d always been shy, ever since you were a kid, but now instead of having a generally quiet disposition, you were skittish. The slightest noise made you jump, and you couldn’t stand to listen to Reagan talk about the U.S.S.R. on the news without having a panic attack. The nightmares had subsided after about two months, though they returned whenever you were stressed.

You found you always looked over your shoulder, always looking out for some unknown thing that might be stalking you. When people talk about saving the world, they never talk about the ugly parts. About the broken fingernails and the insomnia and the muffling of sobs behind your hand as you break down in the girls’ bathroom.

It’s a lonely thing, being a hero. An unfair thing. You felt like that night at Starcourt, when Hopper and Billy Hargrove hadn’t emerged from the fire, your adolescence had been stolen from you. That it had disappeared with the smoke and ash as it engulfed Scoops Ahoy and the rest of the shopping center. You hope that if Eddie actually does follow through with this little deal of yours, you’ll be able to experience at least a little of it.

- - - -

“So,” Eddie drummed his hands on the top of your desk as he slid into the seat in front of you. “What do you have for me, miss tutor girl?”

He was awfully chipper for 7:00 in the morning. You blinked at him and skated your gaze across the room.

It was close enough to first period for the room to be reasonably filled with students, most too sluggish to notice. But a few girls towards the front looked over their shoulders at him, eyes narrowed, before zooming in on you, where they widened curiously.

“What, scared for your reputation?” Eddie was only half-joking, his eyes a little guarded. They narrowed at you.

You shook your head almost comically.

“No,” you burst. “No, not at all. Just had a weird night.”

“Hm,” he looked at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes.

“We’ve already talked about this, Eddie. I don’t have a reputation for you to ruin.”

He snorted at that.

“Alright then,” he leaned forward, his chin on his fists. “What’s got you so skittish, then? Another crazy party like Friday?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning down to retrieve your list from your backpack. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Okay.” He looked like he didn’t believe you. You didn’t blame him; you couldn’t have been that convincing. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Did you bring it?” He asked.

You nodded, slamming the sheet of notebook paper onto the desk and slid it over to him.

“Here you go,” you pulled at your sleeve nervously. “Just don’t laugh, okay?”

Eddie looked at you and feigned shock.

“Me? Laugh at you? I’m offended.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you felt your cheeks flush and your stomach plummet. “I’m just–It’s embarrassing. I’m being very… vulnerable and if you’re gonna laugh, we can just forget about it—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” his warm hands covered yours where they were sitting on the desk. He squeezed your palms reassuringly. “I was kidding. I won’t laugh. Scout’s honor.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment to see if he was serious. All you saw was sincerity. You let out a deep breath.

“You were a boy scout?”

His lips spread in a wry smile as he turned to the paper.

“Nope,” he unfolded the list. “It’s the thought that counts, though, right?”

You shrugged.

“I guess?”

“Okay, what do we have here?”

You sat in awkward silence as Eddie scanned the page, dark eyes focused. Hie brows were furrowed and his lips pouted in concentration.

“‘Get drunk,’ we can certainly make that happen. ‘Skip a class,’ you won’t need to ask me twice.” He stopped for a moment and huffed a laugh.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“What–”

“‘Do a drug.’” He said with a secret smile–like he knew something you didn’t.

“Yeah,” you drew out. “I figured you’d know a guy.”

“Oh,” Eddie laughed. “I know a guy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled at you, before turning his eyes back to the page. “Ohh.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled as he turned them back to you. He looked like a sprite, you thought. With his wild hair and mischievous smile. He was gorgeous.

“‘Get a boyfriend,’” he set the list down on the table. “Am I going to be playing match-maker, teacher’s pet?”

You rolled your eyes. He was teasing you.

“If that’s what it takes,” you quipped, your nervousness having melted away. “And I am not a teacher’s pet.”

“Whatever you say,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

As you opened your mouth to respond, the clearing of a throat interrupted you.

You looked up to see Cameron Reyes leering over Eddie.

“Hey. You’re in my seat,” he sneered. “Beat it.”

Eddie sighed, before slinking out of the seat slowly, taking his time.

“My apologies,” he smiled at Cameron, before dropping into his own seat, next to you.

You glared at the back of Cameron’s head.

Why did he have to be such an asshole?

Cameron was on the swim team and you’d had classes with him since Kindergarten. He hadn’t always been a dick; In fourth grade when you’d skinned your knee, he’d helped you up and walked you to the nurse’s office. It wasn’t until high school, when he’d begun running with guys like Tommy Hagan, that he’d changed. Now, you couldn’t stand him.

That was the way of things, though, in Hawkins. There were the bullies and the bullied—rarely anything in between.

- - - -

As you walked down the halls, you felt their eyes on your legs and you regretted letting Robin convince you to wear this skirt.

The denim felt heavy on your hips. You wiped your clammy hands on the blue material, wishing that you didn’t have to walk practically across school to get to pre-calc.

“Looking good,” someone whistled from behind you. You felt dread seep down your spine.

Please no, not here.

This wasn’t the first time you’d been catcalled.

The first time was when you and Robin were thirteen and walking to the general store down the road from your houses. A few men in a pick-up truck had rolled their windows down and told you in great detail all they’d liked to do to you. You and Robin hid inside the general store until the clerk called your mom to pick you up. You hadn’t even gotten your first period yet.

However, this was the first time you’d been catcalled at school. It still felt just as scary as the first time.

“Where have you been hiding those legs, teacher’s pet?”

You whipped around at the nickname, bristling at it. You hated when people called you that, unless that person was Eddie.

You were faced with a basketball player; one of the guys who hung out with Jason Carver and sometimes Lucas. Thomas Reed. Your skin crawled at the way he and the two boys behind him looked at you.

“Fuck off,” you spat at him before turning on your heel and walking faster to your destination.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” He called after you, but you could barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

It only calmed when you’d reached your classroom.

- - - -

“Are you even listening to me?” You smacked his hand where it was tapping on the wood of the library table. Outside, a heavy autumn rain pummeled the sidewalk, the trees swaying with it.

“Yes,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“What did I just say?”

“That…Holden is a whiny little bitch.”

You sighed, bringing a hand to your forehead.

“No.” You ground out. “And if you write that in your essay, Ms. Taylor is going to fail you and me, so please, can you take this seriously?”

He sighed and had the nerve to look a little guilty. It made your heart clench a bit.

In the few sessions you’d tutoring Eddie, your crush had done anything but lessened. In fact, it had grown tenfold. It was one thing to admire him from across the room, it was another completely to spend time with him and actually be able to talk to him.

You found that in addition to being cute and pensive, he was kind and not at all the scary loner that everyone painted him to be. If he hadn’t cemented his reputation by being an avid player of D&D, he would’ve been popular, you thought.

And all this goes to day: you couldn’t stay mad at him, even when you wanted to.

“Okay,” he said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. You briefly reminded yourself to offer to cut them for him later—he’d been complaining about them getting in his face all session. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What?” Your attention snapped back to him. Eddie looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Uhh, I asked what you were saying?”

“Oh! Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “I zoned out.”

“I gathered that.” Eddie snorted, leaning forward. “Uh, off-topic, but I was wondering, when do you wanna get started on that bucket list?”

“Oh. Whenever.”

“I was thinking we could start this week.”

“So soon?” You practically squeaked. As excited you were about these new experiences, you were nervous. Especially because the person you’d be experiencing them with was Eddie. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“No time like the present,” Eddie’s voice was chipper. “So, what did you wanna start with?”

“I thought we’d start small and work up to something bigger?” You asked.

“That sounds good,” Eddie nodded. “How does skipping class work for this week?”

“Ugh, not well actually.” You sighed, sour. “We have that exam this week in Taylor’s and then for Chem I have—”

“Relax, we don’t have to start with that one. Hmm, what else…”

“We could always—”

You cut yourself off, thinking better of it, but Eddie caught you.

“Nevermind.”

“No, what is it?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“If you wanna do something, you gotta tell me. It’s your bucket list, tutor-girl, not mine.”

“What if we…did a drug?”

God, you sounded like such a teacher’s pet saying it.

“Okay, teacher’s pet.” Eddie’s face was gleeful, excited. “You’re full of surprises. We can do that, definitely.”

“Okay,” you let out a breath.

“Any reason why you jumped to that one?”

“I just– I’m so stressed.” Thomas Reed’s lustful gaze flashed in your mind and you shook it off.

“You okay?” Eddie grabbed your hand on the table. You swallowed.

“Yeah,” you said lamely, mouth dry. “Just–a lot going on. School.”

“School,” Eddie repeated like he didn’t believe you. His eyes held yours for a moment before he nodded. “Okay teacher’s pet. Drugs it is. Any preference?”

“Nothing too crazy. Just something to take the edge off?”

“I can do that,” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think you’ll be funny high.”

“We’ll see,” you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled at you for a moment. Your eyes held his and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and kiss him. You coughed, turning back to your notes in front of you.

“Anyway, what do you think Salinger’s trying to say?”

“Other than the fact that Holden is annoying?”

“Eddie, I’m serious—”

“I am too!” Eddie insisted. “All this shit about ‘phonies,’ when he’s just like them–”

“You know, I thought you’d relate to Holden.” You smirked at him.

“What?”

“Well, he’s an outcast—all teenage angst and—”

“I’m twenty, thank you.” He snapped at you, causing you to stutter.

“Oh, no I didn’t mean outcast like—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie chuckled, waving you off. “It’s true. And I like it that way.”

You eyed him skeptically.

“Really, I do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “There are too many assholes in this school. If I wanted to fit in, I’d have to act like them. At least a little bit. Besides, I’ve got people. Not much, but I’ve got’em.”

You hummed.

“I’ve never thought of that.”

“What, Holden being a bitch, because—”

You smacked his arm, laughing.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Eddie giggled. He giggled. Your heart leapt. “What, though? What did I say that was so profound?”

He was being sarcastic, you could tell, but you didn’t care.

“The whole—having to sacrifice part of yourself to fit in. It’s true. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He hummed, eyes holding yours a moment, before his grin broke the moment.

“Maybe I should be the one tutoring, huh?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Turn to page 225.”

- - - -

Thomas found you again the next day, this time before school as you were at your locker.

“Hey there,” he smiled, sliding up next to you, effectively boxing you in between him and the locker. You jumped, moving as close to the locker as you could. “How are you today?”

“Leave me alone,” you ground out, trying to slip past him, but his hand in a hard grip on your arm stopped you.

“Aw, but we could have so much fun, teacher’s pet.”

“Let me go—”

“Where’s your little skirt?” he asked, grip tightening on your arm as you scrambled to get away.

You silently cursed whoever in the administration office had placed your locker on one of the most abandoned hallways in the school.

“Your legs looked so good—”

His palm came to squeeze the meat of your ass and your stomach churned. Without thinking, you spat in his face, palm coming to connect with his cheek.

“You cunt—”

“The hell is going on here?”

Eddie walked briskly up to you as you stepped back from Thomas. He moved to stand between you two, face hard. It was the mask he put on every day in front of the rest of the school, the ones who thought he was mean and scary. Only now, you weren’t sure how much of it was a mask.

“Nothing, man.” Thomas waved him off, wiping his face. He glared at you in a way that made your feet stick to the spot.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I said it's nothing.”

“And I said—”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

“Hey wait—”

Eddie moved to grab Thomas as he walked away from the two of you.

“I said it’s fine,” you said louder this time, and reached out to grab Eddie’s shoulder and pull him back toward you.

“Bullshit!” He spun and turned toward you, clearly pissed off. “What the hell was that?”

“I said it was fine, Eddie!” You burst at him, voice cracking. You took a deep breath.

“Honey, are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted Eddie’s suddenly soft voice. You wiped a stray but of moisture from under your eyelid. “Let’s just go to class.”

“But–”

“Eddie, drop it,” you all but snapped, before adding lamely, “please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Lead the way. Taylor’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again.”

You could practically hear him simmering as he walked a half-step behind you to class, but you didn’t care to acknowledge it. You’d made it abundantly clear you didn’t want to talk about it. If he pushed you, you might just snap.

As the two of you made your way down the halls, you felt eyes following you. They were all wondering: what was the quiet nerd doing with the freak? You didn’t care to acknowledge that either.

Let them wonder, you thought. I’m done caring about their rumor mill.

- - - -

“Jesus, Eddie.” You gasped and looked around.

There was no one in the janitor’s closet with you, but still: with that much weed on him, Eddie would be expelled and arrested. You had no idea how he’d gotten it in the two days since your conversation.

“What?” He asked, out of breath. He’d pulled you in here between third and fourth period, scarring you half to death in the process. “I told you I’d get the stuff.”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you meant so much,” you scoffed. Now, looking down at the green, wooly buds you were going to smoke, you felt your stomach flood with anxiety. You weren’t so sure about it anymore. “Where did you even get it?”

“I know a guy.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you rolled your eyes frustratedly. “What did you drag me here for, anyway?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused at your hostile tone.

“To…let you know I got the stuff.” He drawled, before narrowing his eyes at you. “You okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Your stomach was churning. Between the stuff with Thomas that morning and now this, it was too much.

You pressed a hand to your abdomen as the faint smell of weed permeated from the open baggie between Eddie’s fingers.

God, he had pretty fingers, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind. It was something you'd revisit when you weren’t about to have a panic attack.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie rushed toward you as you doubled over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and calm the nausea. His hands found your shoulders, and another wave of the sharp smell of marijuana made you retreat further into your mind.

All of a sudden, you weren’t there; you were back at Starcourt with Billy Hargrove’s hands around your neck, the smell of the weed he’d smoked earlier still on his clothes.

Your breathing shallowed and you gasped, trying to breathe, but in vain.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me,” you faintly heard Eddie over your own heartbeat. “You gotta breathe, honey. C’mon, breathe for me. Deep breaths, like this.”

He pressed your palm to his chest as he inhaled deeply.

You looked up at him, at his wide, panicked eyes and did as he said, slowly inhaling a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” he took another deep breath, eyes not leaving yours. “Just like that. Okay. Another one, now.”

You took a deep breath, much easier this time, eyes never leaving his.

- - - -

“So…” Eddie began, eyes finally meeting yours. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

You sighed, tilting your head back to lean against the wall where you were sitting. You looked up at the fluorescents in the janitor’s closet.

“That was a panic attack, Eddie,” you said monotonously.

“Don’t be a smart ass. What happened?”

You sighed again.

It had taken five minutes for Eddie to talk you down from your… episode. After, he’d let you catch your breath. You’d thought that you’d be able to just go about your day from there. You were stupid to think he’d let this go.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, I don't care about that. I just wanna know what the hell caused it. Did I–”

“No,” you said immediately. “You didn’t—”

“Did it have something to do with this morning?” Eddie’s voice was low, and as serious as you’d ever heard it.

You remained quiet, eyes trained on the light above you. Eddie took that as confirmation. His eyes flashed dangerously as you finally looked at him.

“I’ll kill him.”

Eddie moved to his feet with purpose, moving to open the closet door.

“No!” you grabbed his ankle, scrambling. “No, Eddie. It’s not worth it.”

“Bullshit, it’s not worth it—”

“Please, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go smoke. We’ve practically missed all of fourth period anyway.”

“Honey, he can’t just–”

“I know, Eddie,” you stood up level with him. “But right now, I really wanna leave, and that’s more important than whatever revenge plot you have.”

He looked at the door obstinately for another moment before turning back to you.

“Fine.” he said, not fully convinced.

“Thank you,” you took a calming breath. “Good. Besides, it’ll be like killing two birds with one stone, right? Two items off the bucket list at once.”

- - - -

Eddie’s car was smoky; a hotbox is what he called it.

As you took a long drag of the joint he passed to you, the deep, leafy aroma filled your lungs. As you breathed out, all worries or stress you had about school or Thomas or even the Upside Down diminished to an afterthought.

So this is why people smoke, you thought to yourself, giggling a little bit.

“What is it?” Eddie turned his head to you, unruly curls brushing your cheek.

The two of you were sprawled out on the floor of his van, shoulder to shoulder and head to head, about twenty minutes into the session. You’d learned this so far: that Eddie smelled good, like cigarettes and cologne and something musky, and that his eyes got even more glassy when he smoked. All that to say: you wanted to kiss him. Bad.

You passed him the joint, your fingers brushing his in the process.

“It’s just that I finally get why people do this so much,” you laughed.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” Eddie laughed with you.

“And I feel better already!”

Eddie went quiet, taking two puffs from the joint. You turned to look at him, eyes immediately darting to his lips. He was looking pensively at the corner of the van.

“Not fair,” you grabbed the joint from him. “Don’t hog.”

“I get them too, you know.” He said all of a sudden, somber.

You stopped, looking at him still. Eddie turned his head to face you, nose only an inch from yours.

“Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. When I first came to live with Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“My uncle,” he swallowed, turning his head away from yours. “I live with him. Have since I was twelve. My dad, he was… not a great guy.”

You were quiet for a moment, passing the joint back to him.

“My dad left.” You said. “Sometimes I’m not even sure I remember what he looks like.”

Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing.

Instead of the flutter of anxious butterflies, you felt a calm wash over you at his hand in yours.

“Do you, uh…” Eddie trailed off, taking a deep huff, “wanna talk about what I saw this morning?”

You sighed, not feeling anxious, but feeling tired.

“You remember the skirt I wore the other day?”

Eddie swallowed visibly, eyes darting to your legs before your face again.

“Yeah.”

“Robin helped me pick it out in June,” you fiddled with your sweater. “She convinced me to wear it the other day, finally, while the weather is still at least a little nice. Anyway, Thomas noticed my skirt. He hasn’t left me alone since. And today, he…”

Eddie took a long drag.

“He grabbed me, grabbed my ass. Fucking pig.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not even, like, scarred by that. You know how ridiculous that is? That I’m not even phased by it anymore?”

Eddie just shook his head, glaring at the ceiling.

“Eddie?”

He wordlessly handed you the joint.

“Toke up, sweetheart.”

You chuckled.

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a long drag.

“Someone should—”

“Someone should, but someone won’t.” You looked at him. “They never do.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, biting his lip in concentration.

“Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

“God, yes.”

Th next day, Thomas Reed had a busted lip and a black eye.

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