#i may get up to a lot of stupid accidents but boy are they funny stories later on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruggo · 3 years

Note

Hello ! I saw the enemies fo lovers things and I wanna request if possible

“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

With frank if you would and thank you

yessirrr i love frank sm it’s not ok. also umm i may have accidentally written friends to enemies to lovers or something idk. and though i wouldnt necessarily call you friends at the start, you werent really enemies yet???? idk🐸just ummm yeh i love frank

also help how do i not go overboard???? i feel like i made this way too long, please help and i am sorry

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, frank being a bastard but then you’re like awwww he’s a cute bastard aaaaw

Things were weird with Frank, and they always had been from the moment you stepped foot in the Entity’s realm. He always tunneled you relentlessly, and that made you think of him as a big asshole, but there were some strange details tacked onto the sentiment that greatly confused you, should you think about it for more than three seconds.

Sometimes, it seemed like he went easy on you in chases, like he put in no effort. He would chase you for a while, let you waste his time, and then leave without even getting a hit on you when he definitely had the ability to.

And you hated saying this, but when he handled you, it almost felt…gentle. Granted, he was a killer, and his job was to murder you, but your experiences with him did not quite line up with those of the other survivors.

They always described trials against Frank as “stepping on legos in the middle of the night” or something akin to that. You never felt like that, though—when he chased you, it felt fair. Almost as if he played nice with you. And more often than not, the killer would let you go when he caught you. The reason remained a mystery to you until quite a bit later.

This trial, Frank was in 100% bastard mode. You had begun to think of his trials as quite easy due to his seemingly calm nature around you, so you were rather caught off guard when he downed you in the first 30 seconds of the match and tossed you onto a hook, no gentleness whatsoever.

You wanted to yell at him and ask what the fuck was wrong with him until you realized this was his fucking job, and this is how he should have been treating you all along. Maybe you had just been imagining it all, but you could have sworn he used to leave you alone more than this. Something just felt different.

After you were unhooked, he went for you again. And again. And then you were dead, completely wiped out of the trial. Frank had demolished you with no remorse.

You knew it was silly to feel betrayed, but you really couldn’t help it. In such an insane and hellish place, anything that could be even remotely perceived as kindness seemed like so much more of a big deal than it truly was. So Frank’s supposed “gentleness” with you had felt somewhat like a friend doing you a selfless favor. Of course, it was not a selfless favor, and it was certainly nowhere near kindness, because he was still a killer chasing you with a knife, but your standards had really lowered in this place.

After that trial, you were back to hating Frank for tunneling and bullying you (like you probably should). You began to understand the survivors’ saying about the legos—and you hoped that Frank would step on some legos too, because he fucking sucked sometimes.

And for a while, that’s just how it was. You nearly forgot how he used to go easier on you, and how you used to do okay in his matches. Now every time you were pit against each other it just felt like you were being stuck with a bunch of pins; you never had any time to breathe or rest or do literally anything. He just went after you until you were gone, and there was next to nothing you could do about it.

Everything changed very suddenly during a trial at Ormond.

You were expecting the same old routine with this asshole—chase, blah blah blah, die. You hardly had energy to fight back anymore.

So when he arrived out of breath at the killer shack, somehow knowing you would be here, Frank was surprised to find you relaxing under the window with your arms loosely crossed, a disapproving scowl upon your countenance. It was enough to make him hesitate in his tracks.

You let out a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with his mask; you kept up that menacing frown for as long as you could, trying to make him feel guilty (who knows if it was even possible for him to feel guilty? But it was worth a try).

“Just kill me,” you said, voice steady and seemingly unbothered. Underneath the surface, you were trembling, but you stood your ground. “That’s what you’re gonna do, isn’t it? You’re going to chase me until I’m miserable and kill me off as soon as you can?”

Frank went still, not even fidgeting with his knife like he usually did; he was intrigued by your sudden confidence.

You went on. “I’m really sick and tired of you, you know that? I’m sick of you and your bullshit. Why can’t you treat me like everybody else? At first, you went easy on me. Now you just torture me with your stupid mind games, and frankly, I’m sick of playing! I’m done with you—I don’t care anymore! Just kill me, and I’ll get out of your way, okay asshole? Mori me if you want. I don’t give a shit.”

You put your hands up exasperatedly, fully expecting him to take the offer and just send you back to the campfire right then and there. But the man sighed, pocketed his knife, and sat down right next to you as if this were a normal thing for him to do.

You scooted a few inches away out of instinct. Frank noticed, but he chose not to say a word about it.

It was a long time before he said anything, and when he finally did, you wanted to punch him so bad.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. And that was all.

Oh, yeah? It was complicated? You scoffed, hanging your head with a bitter smile. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

Silence again.

Awkward, suffocating silence.

And then Frank got up and left. You were unbothered for the remainder of the trial, not even a scratch or bruise on your body.

Sometimes you simply did things, and you didn’t know why. This thing that you just did was irrational, stupid, unplanned, unwise, and everything in-between, and you knew it was, but frequently you just had no impulse control. Perhaps it was the Entity’s influence, or maybe you had always been this way—you couldn’t really remember.

How did you get here again? Why were you laying on the ground? And why did your leg hurt so fucking much?

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, you remember now.

Funnily enough, it seems as though the Entity, along with certain killers, did not like it when survivors tried to enter their side of the forest! But you did it anyways, and it appeared that you had suffered the consequences. It’s not like you had put much thought into it; where was the point in that when nothing mattered anymore and you were stuck in an endless cycle of death?

You remembered entering the killer’s woods, looking around, and doing…something. What was that something? You couldn’t be sure, but then you remembered somebody coming up to you and probably definitely hurting you. Yep, your leg definitely was in a lot of pain. You couldn’t even look at it. Did you pass out for a while? Maybe. How long were you out for?

You lay still there for a while, thinking. Man, it really hurt, and boy, were you miserable. Maybe more miserable than you’d ever felt here. The Entity normally healed wounds immediately, but perhaps you had just angered it so much you deserved to suffer.

Oh, dear! You seemed to be passing out at this time. Yes, that was almost certainly what was happening. Black spots danced across your eyes as your body began to feel distant and numb, but you didn’t feel very worried about it. In fact, you felt like making jokes right now, but you had nobody to make jokes to and you probably couldn’t even speak.

Just as you began to accept it, there was a strange thumping sensation vibrating through the ground growing closer…and closer…

Footsteps! That’s good!

Oh. Not if it’s a killer. That’s not good, probably.

But you had no way of protesting when you felt yourself being picked up, because those black spots in your eyes were dancing a lot faster now, perhaps something akin to an Irish jig, and you also couldn’t feel your limbs.

Then you were fast asleep again, dreaming of Irish dancers who were actually big fluffy cloud people wearing leprechaun clothes. Nobody but you would ever know this, and it was going to stay that way.

On the bright side, it made it a lot easier for your rescuer to carry you to safety like this.

When you awoke once more, you were horrified to find yourself in the Ormond lodge of all places. You knew immediately what had happened and were determined to escape as soon as possible.

Your injured leg proved to be a huge problem, however, and you collapsed the second you attempted to find freedom. Trying again, you collapsed once more, and probably maimed yourself further in the process.

Hearing the commotion from the second floor, your least favorite member of The Legion descended down from the main stairs, refusing to look directly at you even as he scooped you up and plunked you (gently) back onto the couch, which was rather comfortable (not that you would ever tell him that).

So he was playing it cool, huh?

Okay. You could play it cool, too. You were cool. Smooth as butter.

No. You really couldn’t be cool in a situation like this, and plus, your mind was still a little woohoo since whatever accident had occurred. Suddenly you blurted out, “Frank, I hate your guts.”

And he had the audacity to laugh. He laughed at you! He did the man chuckle thing, as if what you were saying was funny. No! You were completely serious! You did hate his guts!

Perhaps your face showed how upset you were, because he started to apologize (still laughing).

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Frank said after calming down a bit.

No. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You did not want to experience dancing cloud people dressed as leprechauns ever again in your life, for the rest of eternity. Never again.

So you shook your head violently, refusing to give an explanation, which just provoked Frank to anger all of a sudden. If you went back to sleep, he could have some alone time while the rest of The Legion was gone. He kept pushing, and you kept resisting, and he pushed and you resisted, until finally he gave up and let you off with a warning. If you made him mad again, he was throwing you out in the snow.

Fine with me, you said. Okay, I’ll do it right now, he said. No balls, you said.

So then Frank casually went to scoop you up in his arms again, and you started to freak out and beat your hands against his chest until he put you back down. He was was awfully mindful of your hurt leg for someone who was about to throw you into the snow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please don’t throw me out,” you fussed. You thought he wouldn’t actually do it. You didn’t know it, but you were right—he was just messing with you because it was funny seeing you scared.

After a bit more griping back and forth, Frank began to grow concerned about your leg. He didn’t know how to bring up the topic because things were so odd between the two of you; this was your first interaction since the brief encounter in the shack. But he swallowed his pride, because the wound seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

“Hey, do you want me to, uhh…get some supplies?” Frank asked awkwardly. When you didn’t understand, he continued, “Your leg? It looks like it hurts…I could fix it if you want.”

You barked out a laugh at his words, unbelieving of this shift in attitude. “Rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago,” you snickered, genuinely finding it amusing.

Frank took offense. He was trying to be nice for once, and you thought it was funny. And his situation really was complex, whether you chose to believe it or not. Maybe he should just tell you to get it off of his chest.

“Listen,” he said, voice laced with seriousness. “When I told you things were complicated, I meant it.”

Sensing the mood change from his tone and body language, you stopped smiling and decided to pay attention to him. Just this once. Never again. After this you could go back to hating him.

Frank continued. “The Entity was going to start…well, hurting me, if I didn’t start doing better in trials. I really didn’t want to sacrifice you, which is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll say it. And I don’t think it liked that.”

You were surprised. And also relieved that you had been right all along—he had been going easy on you at first.

“Why me, though?” you asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want to sacrifice me? What about the other survivors?”

If the slight tilt of his head at your question didn’t answer it for you, the way he started tapping his feet and cracking his knuckles so nervously did.

Boy, if looks could kill, you would have died instantly at the scowl Frank sent your way; you grinned pridefully at the realization that this man was down bad. You couldn’t see the expression behind his mask, though, which Frank was thankful for.

He hated every second of this, but you loved it. You reveled in his embarrassment.

Leaning forward on your hands, you begged, “Tell me more! I want to hear all about your feelings for me.”

“I could stab you right now, you know that?”

“But you won’t. You liiiiike me!”

“What are you, eight years old?”

“No, but I am severely injured and have lost a lot of blood so I am not necessarily in the right headspace at the moment.”

“You make a fair point.”

“So tell me! What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Your ass.”

“No, really.”

“Okay, your ass and your hair.”

“You know what, Frank, I still hate your guts.”

“No, you don’t.”

You paused for a moment. It was probably the blood loss talking, you decided later, but you said, “No. Maybe I don’t.”

#:) i kinda rly like this ahaha it was fun #i hope it’s okay <3 #fruggo writes #requests #enemies to lovers prompt #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #the legion x reader #the legion #dbd x reader #dbd oneshot #dbd writing #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd frank

391 notes · View notes

yondzone · 3 years

Text

You fall in front of them - Hashira

You were going on a stroll with your crush but accidentally you fell because of the only stone of the road that wanted you dead.

fluff and stupidity under the cup

𝕿𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖔𝖐𝖆 𝕲𝖎𝖞𝖚𝖚

"Why are you hugging the ground?" giyuu say looking at you like you were a fish out of the water.

"Im not hugging the ground I fell"

"why did you fell"

Please hide your face full of murderous attend he may notice it and fell sad about that.

Just let him go and admit that you were hugging the ground because you were cold or because it looked warm and you wished for cuddle

If you swallow your pride and admit that he will surely ask you if you are cuddle starved and if you want something

...or he may just said that you are really peculiar

𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖟𝖚𝖌𝖆𝖜𝖆 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖎

As you were walking chatting together, ultimately you fell down in front of your crush

You were not even aware of the fact that it was completely in his capacities to catch you he was just trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

After he realize your no longer next to him but on the ground he gently declare

"You suck" that's what sanemi thought was the best to say in this situation.

If a tear fall from your eyes he would completely stop smiling and panic, he’ll kneel to your level and give you a handkerchief he is always carrying

and ask you if you wish to go to the butterfly estate

if you are not the one to laugh at humiliation in front of your crush he’ll just propose to treat you at his home.

𝕶𝖞𝖔𝖏𝖚𝖗𝖔 𝕽𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖔𝖐𝖚

"You won't fall lower than this at least" he say smiling and if you just stand here baffled by his positiveness he just carry you like you were a child which his enough to make you fell like dying from embarrassment

First you fall in front of your crush and then he just try to comfort you like you were a child that fell and was crying.

He’ll go buy you some sweet, still carrying you around the street

If you were not already dying of shame then this his the final blow.

Our sweet boy just wanted to see a smile on your face you know so just embrace the sun this man is.

𝕶𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖔 𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖇𝖚

"Oh my is everything okay?" she calmly ask you

And start giving you enough thing to heal a deadly wounded person, its her way to show you that she cares.

Also tell you that you are too clumsy and shall work on it if you want to live, being clumsy could mean you’re death, don't worry its still her way to show that she cares about you, rigth?

"Don’t worry I’ll go and ask himejima-san if you can join his training every morning, don’t worry I won’t let you die".. I admit she have peculiar way of caring for someone but its just the way she is.

Im nice so I’ll give you one advice, quickly find away to explain that it was just today but that you are not clumsy and don’t need himejima-san special deadly training to survive and she may let you go

𝕿𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖓 𝖀𝖟𝖚𝖎

"Pouahahah kakdkskaka" -Uzui probably

He knew you were going to fall, he sensed it but he did not feel like catching you.

Truthfully he laughed is ass off and was saying how you flamboyantly fell on your ass

You can be sure that in no time all the demon slayer corps know about this, event if it’s not that funny he which to tell everybody how funny this was.

Just go seek support with his wife there are the best they don’t reflect their marry.

It will takes some time but he will get over it and go and apologize to you

But again some time later he may (he certainly will) bring it out just for fun.

Both of you are like for example just drinking some good sake and he will said ‘remember that time you fell like dog shit’ and start cracking up will you are just standing there, no emotions on your face.

He may or may not pet your head and just say he was kidding after all who loves well chastises as well

𝕴𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖔 𝕺𝖇𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖎

As you were walking together and him thinking about something else, you were so engrossed in the conversation tat you fell, face first on the ground.

"I won't wait for you, waste of a human"

He deserve to have the stone that make you fall in his face, so you pick it up ready to trow it to his face but him being faster he come back in a sec in front of your face not so tenderly take the stone away from your hands and trow it away

In a way that made him wait for you right?

But dare say this to his face

"in the end you waited for me right"

oh no you dared

The man pride will get hurt and he will just speed up and in no time he his at the other side of the demon slayer corps HQ

Strangely during your next stroll all the stone of the road that could possibly make you fall all disappeared from the ground!

𝕳𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖏𝖎𝖒𝖆 𝕲𝖞𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖎

I don’t think it’s possible for gyomei to not catch you before you fall, i mean this man is the strongest. The only way you could possibly fall without him catching you before that would be that he his too mesmerized by you that he lowered his guard.

At the moment you fall he would still go to catch you but he was not as fast as normally so you fell.

And he had a lot of regret and though it was his fault you fell, his fault because he couldn't catch you because he was having impure though

So he pick you up and say :

"Were going to the butterfly estate"

Not letting your feet touch the ground again as he carry you (with only one arm of course)

It would take time to hide your embarrassment and explain to the butterfly estate that gyomei was being over dramatic and that you had nothing.

After this accident when you would take stroll he wouldn’t lower is guard anymore (but still let himself drowning in your cuteness) and would walk as close as he can to you so that the next time he could catch you.

𝕶𝖆𝖓𝖗𝖔𝖏𝖎 𝕸𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖎

You were both walking in a beautiful garden of her estate, hand locked together, you both are just talking and laughing, looking at each other in the eyes eventually,

You hit the stone, and unfortunately you take your love with you on your fall, no romanticism here she did not fell on top of your chest or some sort of thing like this, both of you are on the ground in position who would seem impossible to be natural.

She his the first who sit up on the ground then after a blank moment of realization, she start laughing giving you on of her most beautiful smile while she guffaws she say :

"Oh no i fell too!"

Her stupid smile and laugh are terrible, they are terrible for your heart. Not aware of the state her smile put you trough she asked :

‘‘are you hurt? you are as red as a tomato!’

𝕿𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖔 𝕸𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖔 𝕿𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖔 𝕸𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖔

“I like train” muichiro say while walking without looking at you nor looking at the ground.

You were dying behind him trying to match is walking speed with the little stamina your body held.

So you ask him to wait for you and he just say "who are you?"

So you look at him, then he looks at you, and then you still look at him, an embarrassing moment that end when he walk away

Then after 10 meters he realize, and turn back, look at you with puppy eyes, like in a movie you start running, arms wide open (in slow mo), but then you fall because of a little stone on the ground, modd killed, face licking the ground.

After the pain is gone you stand up and see that muichiro is no longer here.. he forgot you again! damn him!!

826 notes · View notes

methoxyethane · 2 years

Text

Fic Year In Review

Okay I was gonna wait until January but I’m not writing shit right now, I mean I am TOTALLY braindead so I might as well do this now

FICS I POSTED THIS YEAR:

A Rose By Any Other Scent

ABO, Lance has no sense of smell until he regains it in a cryopod, thinks Keith is another alpha but falls for him anyway. Much angst towards the end, but it gets better.

An old klance fic I started probably years ago, and while its technically one chapter away from being finished for good wen all know I’m never gonna figure out how to write that last resolution chapter. It’s a good fic though, with a good ending point that at least resolved the emotional conflict between the boys.

Matelotage

Klance pirate AU, simple proposal fic fluff. I originally wanted to make it a One Piece AU but it got too complicated and I just said fuck it XD I uh... Don’t remember what’s in this one, honestly. Maybe I should reread it.

New Adventures

A cute little pokemon SatoGoh fic I wrote because I was binge-watching Pokemon Journeys. Yes, I wrote pokemon fic about twenty years too late, and for an obscure ship. Do I care? Nope. No regerts baby, living life to the fullest.

Gravitation

Genshin Impact, LucKae ABO porn. Not much to this, was just writing it to warm up my chops, and also, because Kaeya is SO DAMNED SEXY. Unf. Dat ass, yo.

Dating For Dummies

Klance Valentine’s Day fluff. Lance asks Keith out on a bro-date, then makes it as Un-platonic as possible. On accident. Really, he swears it was an accident.

I love this fic SO MUCH. It’s cute, its funny, its a little bit sexy, and it’s probably the best thing I wrote all year. Probably. That or the itafushi fic. It’s a toss up, both ended up being cute as shit.

Roses In May

An original story, or the beginning of one. I had plans for this, but then it was hard to write, so I gave up because I’m lazy. I still love the characters, maybe I should try again with a different premise...? I don’t know I suck at writing original works. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a writer...

Dreaming Of Electric Sheep

Klance Android!Keith AU. This was pretty cute, but I couldn’t get my beta to read it to help me come up with ideas on what to write next, and I got lost and forgot everything I had planned. That uh... happens to me a lot.

The Other Side

One Piece fic, partly LawLu but mostly some brotherly Luffy and Ace content. Luffy gets sent to another world, where his brother is still alive. Also, he apparently has a boyfriend in this universe.

I started this fic YEARS and YEARS ago, but VLD distracted me form the fandom and I never got around to writing the rest of it. Not until now. Worth the wait? No, it’s a really small little fic. But it’s good. Little, but good. Very heartfelt.

I Think Your Love Would Be Too Much

ItaFushi. Yuuji falls for Fushiguro and decides to date him, without or without Fushiguro’s consent. Fortunately, Fushiguro is not actually opposed to this.

Jujustsu Kaisen is AWESOME, and I had to write something soft and cute because canon is so brutal. I loooooove this fic, it turned out funny and sweet and cute and a little bit stupid, and I’ll reread it as many times as I want because I wrote it for ME, damn it.

Push Up To My Body

Genshin Impact, Childe/Zhongli ABO porn. I wanted to write Zhongli being slapped during sex and totally getting off on it, so I DID. This is some kinky shit, yo. No regrets.

One Is Silver And The Other Is Gold

Genshin Impact, LucKae Hogwarts-based childhood fluff. I accidentally posted this before I was ready, I thought I’d write it faster but I have not touched this since I posted what I already had written. I HOPE to write more, but I need ideas for the first couple years before the Drama hits and no one will help me brainstorm XD

Iterum

Klance porn, Incubus!Lance fucks Keith’s brains out with a shapeshifting dick. Written for the knotty monsters zine someone asked me to participate in, but i was... Difficult, and I imagine no one will ask me to participate in another zine again lol. I hated it when I wrote it, but then i reread it and it’s actually pretty good smut. Lesson learned: I suck at deadlines and don’t do well under pressure lmaaooo

Calling Sassafras

More Klance porn, but this is... REALLY GOOD. Keith asks for a little Dom/Sub lovin, and after some careful planning, Lance is happy to oblige. Another fic I started a few years back and only finished recently. Um... not much to say about this other than, if you haven’t read it yet, you should probably hit this shit. IT’s diiiirty.

Chocolate Turtles

Zukka fluff. Zuko makes animals out of chocolate, and Sokka keeps buying them for all the wrong women. Eventually, he learns his lesson and just akss out Zuko instead.

Written for my friend Isa whom I love dearly, this shit was inspired by that chocolate guy who’s so popular on the internet. It’s some cute fluff, but mostly, it’s FUNNY. I nailed this one. I’m a funny bitch, god damn it. Anyway I like it, if it wasn’t for the Valentine’s fic and the ItaFushi this would be my favorite fic of the year. But it’s not lol. It’s third place.

So in conclusion, I wrote less than usual this year, but what I did write was pretty baller. Mostly. IDK, I made the most of what I could.

#klance #zukka #itafushi #luckae #satogoh #year in review

90 notes · View notes

julzrulz · 3 years

Text

MHA boys with crushes pt.2

˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

How I think these MHA boys would act if they had a crush on you but make it part 2. Boys being sweeties make me go brr. bruh I'm on a roll, next stop todo and shoji (my baby)!!!

Rating: G (General Audiences, All Ages Admitted)

Pairings: Kirishima x Reader, Kaminari x Reader, Iida x Reader

TW: N/A

Notes: Headcanons, Gender Neutral Reader

───── ❝ 𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 ❞ ─────

blushy blushy boi

really doesn’t want you to know how he feels about you until he knows you feel the same

the bakusquad makes it so painfully obvious, making kissy faces, bothering you about how you feel about kiri, asking if you’re free anytime soon, calling you you guys’ shipname-- and worst part, he can only sit back and watch

poor baby

he becomes very hyper aware over stupid stuff about himself-- like getting super self-conscious if his breath smells, does his hair look funny, everything and anything

overanalyzes everything and anything, what he said, how he looked, any voice cracks

he swears you are so out of his league-- he takes advantage of every second he gets to be with you

likes to spend time with you and makes an effort to touch you when ever he can (of course in a manly™ manner)

like sitting way to close to you, touching elbows while eating lunch, tickles you by surprise, puts his arm around your shoulder, playing with you hair alittle

doesn’t stutter around you often but when you catch him off guard he will quickly become a mess

he rubs the back of his neck and fidgets when he’s around you

likes eye contact with you but sometimes its too much for him.. he’ll get lost in them loose focus and forget what y’all were talking about

really likes to train with you, you complemented his quirk once and now he always wants to use it around you

loves to help you where he can

even if its just holding the door open for you... and you’re at the other side of the hallway

oh god

mimics your body language subconsciously-- smiles when you smile, tilts his head when you do, moves his hands like you do please he’s so cute

cleans up a little nicer when he knows he’s going to be around you

likes when you spend one on one time with him, there’s less pressure without his friends around because they make his crush so obvious to you

he would call you bro by accident and then beat himself up about it-- seriously it keeps him up at night

───── ❝ 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐤𝐢 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢 ❞ ─────

the slickster™

he works to make his crush on you so painfully obvious and make it everybody's problem

lets be real he started making moves on you as soon as he laid eyes on you

he claims there was “an instant connection”

you’re different from all his other crushes, this one was not shallow

usually he would rush in and just flat out ask a chick out, get rejected and repeat

but no he wasn’t going to be rejected from you

he always showers you in praises and compliments because damn shawty kinda fine ahaha

anything from how beautiful, to how smart, talented you are, how cool your quirk is

he really does live to serve your ego

he gets so excited around you he might just short circuit

blushy around you but loves eye contact, god why are your eyes so stunning

always flirting with you non stop, it’s so embarrassing how he does it too, but if it makes you laugh its good enough for him

he definitely preens around you, playing with/styling his hair, “accidently” flexing his arms when he stretches wants to look his best and show it off

he lights up when you walk into class

talks and whines about how he can’t find the “right person” (spoiler: its you) he does this to try and get a reaction out of you and give you an opportunity to flirt back

as much as he's very forward with his advances, he’s always a pinch away from throwing up

always finds a way to relate himself with you, you (for whatever reason) hate apples? well now so does he

is really insecure about going stupid on you-- he only wants you to see him at his best, after all that's what you deserve

becareful with this one he gets his advice from mineta

───── ❝ 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❞ ─────

Another boy I think would be clueless, not because he doesn't understand his feelings or know what a crush is, but because his brain probably goes a mile a minute

he looks after everyone in 1-A so it takes a while to notice you’re the break in the blur

he’s WAY more mature with his crush, iida is a man not a boy

it doesn’t happen too often but when he gets nervous he starts to ramble and its always something big brain that you can’t understand

he likes to spend time with his crush anytime he can-- without being overbearing

you tell him he can call you by your first name and he makes sure to say it so softly, as if it were made of glass. compared to the yelling he always does

you’re a BIG deal to him

he would offer to walk you anywhere you needed to be, craving some alone time with you--to get to know you better and try and gage on how you feel about him

would also offer to carry things for you

is always the first one to stick up for you, even if your in the wrong

he would also slip in a couple gifts here and there but in a discreet way

he wants you to think of him just as much as he does you

oh you need a pencil? welp iida’s got one for you and it just happens to be in your favorite color.. and he “forgets” to ask for it back, now you use it all the time

yes he gets alittle smug when he sees you use it

he would constantly be reminding you of rules and not to break them, it may come off as a nag but rules are there for a reason, to keep you safe, and that's all he wants for you

if you do break any though he always lets it slide

in his eyes you can do no wrong

any mistake you make will be praised by this man. you trip during combat? he’s got you, fail a test? he’ll study with you and say that you’re so much smarter than your grade.

has an over whelming need to care for you, always checking if you ate, drank enough water, got a good sleep

if you laugh at his weird-cute habits like the arm chopping or when he pushes his glasses up he would do it a lot more often-- ugh he loves your smile

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲! ( ˘ ³˘)♥

669 notes · View notes

jiilys · 3 years

Note

would u help me out for a second. im in the mood to write for the first time, and i think your style is beautiful. sitting down n actually trying though, im stuck as fuck! i’m realizing that in your dialogue/scenes you’ve got a lot of Little Things. little tiny elements that are subtle & just enough. how are you deciding that lily is building a house of cards at the moment or sirius is sitting in a tree or whatever during a given scene? how do you come up with those ideas for dialogue that are so silly & real & sneakily tender? do you know where it’s going when you begin? any advice for just… starting something?

ps: i appreciate you. you make it look easy & that’s very very cool

This is a lovely question!! Sorry it took me so long to get to it, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Also I’ve included some examples to try and explain what I mean in practise, but it also comes off rather like plugging. tragically this is unavoidable. Anyway, all that being said I have no idea how to advise you about dialogue and coming up with it, I think just listening to people talk helps. Don’t forget contractions, and when in doubt always trust the reader to keep up, real people don’t say perfect or even grammatically correct sentences a lot of the time. We also cut each other off all the time, especially when we’re trying to be funny. Like, here’s an example from warm front:

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“ “

–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Another thing, but people say um and like or can't speak or cut themselves off, especially when they’re nervous. James when Lily says she loves him for the first time: ‘“Wow,” He breathed, “I’m– wow.” He put both hands on her cheeks and kissed her crazy, abruptly, dumbly. Her head spun.’ He can’t even speak! Dumb boy.

I think natural dialogue sometimes just requires you to read it aloud, which is very embarrassing but ultimately quite useful in trying to figure out whether something sounds normal or not. Use casual words, and try not to go dictionary hunting: if you cant think of the word chances are your character can’t either

In terms of concepts I have no idea, but I do have a few tips. I write all my short one-shots in one document (its called ‘just bad’ lmao) so its easy to start something, write a few lines, and then if it doesnt work just start a new concept, but still have all the old stuff handy. if you feel like you’ve written yourself into a corner its probably because you took a wrong turn earlier, so its just a matter of going back up and figuring out where you turned onto the dead end, or where a line could be funnier and/or sadder and/or more meaningful. Sometimes the bare bones of a decent line is there but you have to work it a little.

In this harry/ginny thing where harry is apologising for all the attention and ginny brushes him off she says:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

The response went through a few drafts, all variations on the same thing:

(1) “You’re funnier.” [too short, doesn’t make sense, and not really that funny. unholy trinity]

(2) “You make it funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, “It’s not– you make it like that.” [this could work! I have no idea why I cut this, I think I forgot abt it lmao]

(3) “You’re the funniest person I know, Harry said, sincerely, and Ginny felt her heartbeat all through her, “You make it funny.” [jumping from ‘its more funny than annoying’ to getting this sincere out of nowhere is a little much, even for harry who is famously whipped]

I ended up going with this:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

“You’re funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, flustered, “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”

It follows the flow of the conversation and I think the way he says it, ‘you’re funny’ like its obvious, and then being like oh fuck and over-explaining it stumbling a little “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”. You know when you like someone and you say something that gives you away before you can stop yourself? I wanted it to sound like that. Just gotta keep in mind how people behave, we are so stupid a lot of the time, we give ourselves away.

The thing about short stuff i find is implying a lot of history without actually describing a lot of it. I normally do this by having memories come up as almost shards, one second of feeling. You know when you’re in a conversation with someone and they mention someone or a past event, and it rises to the top of your brain, but only for a second? i find sometimes when you’re reading stuff people will try and replay entire memories or events mid-conversation, which is not something you do when you think. You don’t need to replay it beat by beat, you were there! This sounds vague as hell so I’ll try and show you what I mean:

From good crimes: “Petunia is engaged.” Lily’s voice, raw and wrong, “To Vernon. Eliza Hunt told me at the supermarket.” Sudden flashes of Petunia, the only time he’d ever met her, sat in the back of Lily’s twenty-first, pinched and whispering. “Whose Eliza Hunt?” This seems as good a thing to say as any.

pretty on the nose (the phrase ‘sudden flashes’ is pretty so i'll allow it from past me). But see how you don’t need to know how Petunia didnt talk to anyone, how she left early, how she was the odd one out: you don’t need to read all that, you already know because she was sat in the back and because pinched is such a mean verb, spiteful and sharp, you can already imagine how the evening went without me saying so

From my proposal take, after Sirius finds out they’re engaged: Sirius’ grip on his shoulder tightened for one second, still grinning, and James knew what he meant. “I know.” He said, because only Sirius had been there for all of it, when they were fifteen, drunk on Firewhiskey for the first time and James had said I think I’ve fucked it, I think I’ve fucked it but I like her for real.

you don’t need a description of the whole night, what party they were at, who they were with, what they were talking about: the important bit is that Sirius was the first person he told, and that they’re both remembering that at the same moment because they’re soulmates lmao. You know when something big happens for a friend and you feel so full of pride & love that you feel like you’ll burst into confetti?? this needed to feel like that, and you only need a flash for it

I feel like I’ve sort of strayed off from what you asked me, which is really advice on how to start something. I normally start with a line, usually of dialogue, and then try and build from there because dialogue is my thing. You might have a different thing! Some people write from concepts or locations, or an image. i might start with one or a few lines of dialogue, write them down, and then try to build from there. For example for the proposal thing I started from james just saying “Marry me”, which I find more romantic than ‘will you marry me’, purely because it sounds like he simply couldn’t stop himself from saying it, like it rushed out. Another example, this thing started from just “don’t be mad at me” “okay” James agreed instantly, because he is such a sucker for her.

When I write I don’t normally know where I’m going! I normally set out to write something I think is vaguely funny and evokes An Emotion, and then I just play around with stuff until I get there. when I write certain stuff and I have scenes in mind, stuff I want to happen, but I find that if I try to plot it to tightly its not exciting to work on, because sometimes you write a good line by accident, that you hadn’t thought of when you sat down, and you surprise yourself. That is a really nice feeling! i want to maximise that feeling.

'What I mostly try to remember is that writing something down, anything down, is useful. Sometimes you write for a whole night and dont get anything useable, but its like clearing pipes. Sometimes you have to flush through shit to get to the good bits. All the rough stuff, the things you don’t like or didn’t work, you wrote to get you to the stuff that did work. All of the bad shit got you here! It wasn’t a waste, you were working to find the good thing

If I had any tips its just the usual stuff, read! It is annoying how much that helps. Also, and I know this may make you shudder, but reading poetry is useful just because in no other literary or media form is language so important. In comics you have pictures, in novels you have plot and character, in film you all that and cinematography, but in poetry you live and die by how good the words are. If you want recs here’s my poem roundup tag, that I do sometimes, or if you want something just now read this by Anne Carson, which uses words like ‘smashing’, ‘boatwash’, and ‘green’ in the best way possible. Also it has these lines: “Recently having learned to recognize the type of tree called sycamore, / I see them in any forest— / the ones that look harrowed, / in shreds, but / go also / straight up into life,”

I mean, think of a sharper image than that?? It’s not possible. Just try remember to stay true to your characters and that in real life, the little stuff is the big stuff. Little things the people around you do normally show they care more than big speeches, and if you want to show love that’s how to make it feel lived in. You want to build a world! the little stuff is usually the world. Take some from your own or dream the ones you wish you had.

This truly was a very kind message and I’m so grateful you like my stuff, I hope any of this was even half-useful, although now reading it back it is borderline nonsensical. I’m going to bed now, good luck with the writing, and don’t forget to send it to me!!

caro xoxo

#writing bitching #said it already but loved this message it was so thoughtful. seemed pretty articulate to me i think ur writing is gunna be just fine!!!#rooting for you & anyone trying to write something rn. words suck and are difficult! they are also better than drugs & sex. regretable #kindnesses

72 notes · View notes

propaganda-for-poets · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’m back with another hc question! What inside/running jokes do the poets have with one another, and who started them? And a separate question, what do the rest of the student body think of the poets? Like are they famous or just another friend group and also are specific poets more famous than the others? I’ve always thought that Neil and Cameron would be famous as fairy godmothers who help poor first years with their homework and finding classes and stuff. Also Meeks is the library cryptid and you can’t tell me otherwise.

oooooo ok let's see!!!! this is going to be kind of a long post by the way, so buckle up

inside jokes

meeks and pitts def have like a shit ton of really confusing inside jokes and no one has no idea what they're talking about, they also pretty much communicate exclusively in vines, it's fascinating to see these two interact, really. meeks and pitts also have a foam box hanging from the ceiling of their dorm. there's a story behind that, probably.

then neil and charlie also have a bunch since they're close, probably about stupid stuff they did in the past that may or may not have gotten them in trouble. they always share them with the group and let them in the joke so they can all laugh about it, it's fun to have their own things and they do have some of their own things but y'know they love their friends and they wanna share all the stupid stuff they did with them.

now i'm sure neil and todd have their inside jokes being hopelessly in love and everything but todd actually has a bunch of them with cameron, they hang out a lot cause they love their friends, they really do, but they could really use some peace and quiet sometimes. so they actually have a bunch of inside jokes, but they mostly keep them to themselves because they've seen each other do some ridiculous stuff they don't want the others to know they're capable of, they don't really need to know why whenever they see a chihuahua todd asks cameron if he's gonna hunt it down, nothing good could come out of it.

charlie and cameron have an ongoing joke about how many pairs of shoes can fit in their dorm's closet and they keep taking guesses. everyone thinks they're joking and it's just something stupid they came up with because they didn't know what to disagree over, it's all fun and games until one day neil walks in and sees them trying to push the door of a suspiciously full closet. they wanted to see who was right. no one knows where they found all those shoes.

the group has a lot of inside jokes in general because they keep doing weird shit, they definitely reference the poems they read in the cave all the time, whenever they call each other and one of them asks who is it the one on the other line answers "it's god", they make innuendos with weird latin words meeks teaches them and then laugh whenever they're said in class, stuff like that.

social status thing!

okay, i'm actually really excited about this one because i kinda wanted to talk about how welton views the poets seperately, outside of the friend group. cause like they obviously know them as a group, there are some rumors of a secret society here and there in welton and let's be honest, they're an odd bunch, neil and the new kid and whatever the hell pitts and meeks are and Charlie Dalton (tm) and knox who probably has a bit of a reputation as a romantic and then cameron????? like what do these people have to do with each other??? so there's a lot of rumors about them, as a group. but seperately!!!!! let's look into that shall we!!!!!!!!

okay, so neil is definitely popular. he's friendly, he's extroverted, involved in pretty much everything, overall really chill, people like him. they all kinda know there's something going on with him because everyone knows neil's gonna be a doctor but he's never showed any interest in it and he definitely strikes everyone as a creative kind, so they know there's something going on there but no one ever addresses it cause that's how high school students are. neil is kind of welton's golden boy, everybody loves him, and if someone doesn't they're probably a dick who wants to start fights.

todd doesn't have much of a reputation aside from "jeffrey anderson's brother" since he's new and also so quiet, everyone just thinks he's a little shy and some people think he's weird but no one ever dares touch a hair on his head because they know he's with neil, and neil will go berserk if anyone tries to hurt him. not that most of them would want to, todd never did anything to anyone but y'know how some people are. it's like in mean girls where no one dared fuck with anyone who was regina's friend? that's what it's like being friends with neil.

okay, we all know charlie has a bit of a reputation. he's a troublemaker, likes to joke around, probably has a few enemies around welton because he tends to,, punch people a lot. everyone thinks he's kinda cool, some people think he's just annoying, which he kind of is sometimes let's be honest. also a considerable amount of people thought he was in love with neil. he was not. how everyone figured that out i'll leave up to you but i have a,,, few ideas for my beloved little group of chameron shippers, hi guys what's up we're living off of crumbs :)

okay, meeks and pitts go together, we all know that, they actually have kind of a history with,,,,, starting shit, basically, it really started as an accident, they blew something up in the science lab, but then they just said fuck it and kept going over the years, causing a lot of stupid shit, and now all the teachers kinda have their eye on them (hence the demerits, yay). but even the conjoined twins have their own reputations. meeks,,,,,, is kinda shady ngl. people go to him for help with weird stuff. like random people. none of the poets know what this is about, the only thing they know is that he rents banned books to students, but that doesn't explain much. also yes he definitely is the library cryptid. pitts on the other hand is perceived as much more,,, legal that meeks. he's kinda the guy you can always go to for anything, pitts has approximately zero enemies in welton. a lot of people think he's a little stupid, for some reason. he's not. he's smart as shit and it takes ten minutes of hanging out with him to figure that out.

cameron's kinda obvious, people think he's boring and a stick in the mud, but he's still respected because he's clearly impressively smart and will help anyone with homework even if he has his own shit to deal with, which means he can pull the "you owe me one" card at anyone any time he wants to, also he's under the neil perry umbrella and welton doesn't fuck with people under the neil perry umbrella, we've been over this. cameron's kinda intriguing though. no one knows anything about him and everyone thinks "there must be more to this guy than just being a huge dick", so there's a lot of conversation around welton about cameron and he never confirms nor denies anything purely because he thinks it's funny.

knox just kinda comes across as a romantic to everyone, he's always the ones with the love poems in class, getting super hyped for valentine's day, all that stuff. he's very bold so there have been a lot of misunderstandings with people, but he usually works things out, most people like him. knox is probably remembered for doing something really impulsive and really stupid once a few years back, but i can't decide what it is. like, not something impulsive and stupid in the way charlie does to fuck with people, just a,,,,,, really big fuck up, that made the whole school laugh and gave him kind of a positive reputation.

#🩹 jace answers #🩹 jace's hcs #dps #dead poets society #neil pery #todd anderson #charlie dalton #steven meeks #stephen meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron #knox overstreet

66 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 3 years

Text

you were beautiful

requested: no

group: stray kids

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: amnesia!au, dancer!minho, receptionist!reader who can’t remember him

warnings: mentions of an accident

synopsis: There isn’t much you remember from your old life, but you know someone is missing. When he comes to find you, you have to decide how many memories of the past are worth bringing back.

a/n: lmao please give my fic a chance, i promise it’s worth a read

word count: 7.5k

Deja vu.

For the longest time, Minho hadn’t understood what the word really meant despite all of Seungmin’s attempts to explain the concept to him. He just didn’t know how something could be so familiar and yet foreign at the same time, could feel like the past despite being the present, and he definitely didn’t believe that he’d ever be able to feel it for himself.

But on a sunny Monday afternoon, being dragged to the hospital by Felix, Minho understands. He feels, and he stumbles onto his friends in front of him.

“Minho hyung, are you okay?” Changbin asks, seeing the look on the dancer’s face. He absolutely would be pushing him back, if it wasn’t for the stricken expression that currently resides on Minho’s face “Hyung?”

“It’s her,” Minho breathes out, his eyes scanning the front of the hospital for the all-too-familiar smile that he’s sure he saw. Felix exchanges a glance with Chan behind his back as Minho bounds up the stairs, panting from the exertion it took to sprint across the courtyard. “It’s Y/N, I know it is--”

Felix frowns, “Y/N? Which one? I know there’s a receptionist working here who’s named Y/N, but...”

“No, you don’t understand,” Minho interrupts, whirling back to face the 3 others. If Jisung or Seungmin were there, Minho would’ve already been ripped to shreds, but Chan, Felix, and Changbin only stare at him worriedly. “My Y/N.”

It clicks in his friends’ minds, and Changbin surges forward to yank the hospital doors open. “It can’t be,” Chan insists, though he follows the other 3 inside. “Minho, Y/N broke up with you and said she was moving to England 2 years ago.”

Shaking his head, Felix sighs, “Okay, wait. Hyung, we have to go see Jisung, the others are waiting there for us. I promise we can go and look later, okay?”

Minho opens his mouth to protest, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Hyunjin, probably, calling to make sure that they’re on their way to comfort Jisung about his broken leg. And Minho has never hated the squirrel-cheeked boy more as he sighs and nods, following the others to the reception desk that Felix claims is two halls down.

Of course, it isn’t. “I’m sorry,” the blonde boy sighs and takes his phone out. “I’ll call-- my friend. Hang on.”

He talks lowly over the phone, and Minho has to bite down, hard, on his own lip just to keep himself from running down the hall again. But soon enough, he hears Felix laughing, exchanging hello’s with someone, and he has to turn.

As soon as he does, the thing that he assumes to be deja vu hits him again, and Minho clutches his hand to his stomach. It’s you, in the flesh-- after all, no one would be able to replicate your smile so perfectly, and no one could possibly be able to mimic a face as perfect as yours. Your hair’s different than he remembers, but it’s been years, and--

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, shaking hands with Chan and Changbin before holding your hand out to him. “I’m Felix’s friend, the receptionist.”

“Uh,” Minho manages. Something about the look on his friends’ faces tells him no, that it isn’t the right time, but he can’t exactly stop himself. “Y/N, it’s me. Minho.”

Your smile is confused now, and your hand falters in the air. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Have we met?”

He frowns, stepping slightly forward, though not enough to alarm you. Felix looks panicked behind you, but he’s frozen in place as Minho says, “Don’t- don’t lie to me. Y/N--”

“I’m sorry,” Chan cuts in, stepping between you and Minho. “He... he had an ex, uh, with the same name. I guess you guys look alike too.”

You still look concerned, but you pass it off with a smile and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. Same name, same face? If she wasn’t your ex, I’d like to meet her.”

Changbin laughs for him, tugging Minho forward. “Yeah, it’s really funny. Uh, what room is Jisung in?”

With the prompt, you turn back to Felix and affectionately punch him in the arm before leading the way. Minho’s stomach twists with jealousy; after all, there’s no way two people who look and sound the exact same exist, especially with the same name, and he can’t shake the thought that you are the one he’s been trying to forget. But you make your way to Jisung’s room soon enough, and open the door for the 4 boys. “Here you are. Come get me if you need anything,” you smile, your eyes lingering on Minho for just a second before you leave. Maybe he imagines it.

“Yo, hyungs and Felix!”

Jisung shouts loud enough to distract Minho, and he turns to find the hospital room filled with his friends. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin are crowded onto one tiny sofa, while Changbin has started to annoy them. Felix and Chan crouch by Jisung’s side while he waves and grins at Minho. “You see what Hyunjin has done to me?”

“I did not,” the long-haired boy protests, a tangle of long limbs under Jeongin, who’s basically treating him as part of the couch. “You tried that stupid trick after Seungmin dared you, it’s not my fault.”

“Shut up, both of you, and hand me a pen,” Minho grumbles, sinking to a side beside Jisung’s elevated leg. To be honest, he wants some excuse to see you at the desk again, to listen to your voice and compare it to the one always echoing in his head, but he distracts himself. “I’m drawing a dick and you can’t stop me.”

“Chan hyung,” Jisung whines while he tries to kick Minho away with his good leg. The cast is bright pink, to Minho’s amusement, and it picks up the black of his marker well. “Minho hyung, I’ll never forgive you if you make me walk around with a dick on my leg.”

Minho snickers, “You can’t exactly walk.”

Chan sighs and shoves Minho, though it’s light. “Come on, stop bullying him.”

“I have to go to physical therapy, too,” Jisung pouts. “You’ll embarrass me.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite all his bravado, Minho just signs his name near Jisung’s ankle, as messy and large as he can make it. “For how long?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jeongin speaks up. “Y/N’s going to come in and tell us, but I really want to go out and ask her.”

Excitement courses through Minho, and he stands up, the pen clattering to the linoleum floor besides his feet. “I can do it. I remember where the reception desk is.”

Felix looks concerned and he asks, “Are you sure you can... handle it? Hyung, I’m friends with Y/N, maybe I should go.”

Minho waves their concerns off, Seungmin leaning in to ask Changbin what happened outside. “I won’t embarrass you, Lix, at least not terribly. I’ll get Hannie’s results, and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s out of room 914, the warmth and light inside escapes, and the smell of alcohol burns Minho’s nose. In all his excitement, he had forgotten how much he hates hospitals, hates the way everyone inside only looks one step closer to death. But he peeks around a corner to where he remembers your desk to be and arranges a polite smile on his face as he approaches you. “Y/N?”

“That’s me, how may I--” You pause when you swivel around to him, but the smile reappears soon enough. “Minho, right? You’re done visiting Jisung this quickly?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckles. “Uh, I just heard from the others that they’re still waiting for his results? About how long he has to do physical therapy and stay here?”

You nod at that and pull your keyboard towards you. Gods, you’re so familiar-- the way your tongue pokes into your cheek as you type, the way you narrow your eyes despite being able to see the screen. Minho hates how much he remembers about you. It has to be you, he convinces himself, whether you’re lying about knowing him or not. “Ah. Well, hang on, the system’s a bit slow,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” Minho shrugs. It’s actually exactly what he wants-- time, for him to ask a few simple, nonimposing questions. “So, uh, when did you start working here? I’ve been here a couple times, never saw you.”

“I actually only transferred here last month,” you answer with a smile. “I used to work at the hospital downtown, Lixie met me there.”

“Lixie, huh?” Minho attempts at a smile, but you don’t know him well enough to see that it’s fake. “That’s cute. You guys are close? Did you help him there or something?”

You shake your head, typing something into the computer despite the loading screen. “No, actually, I was a patient at the time. I had amnesia,” you sigh, tapping your fingers on your chin.

Minho raises his eyebrows. His heartbeat is quickening-- depending on when you had amnesia, it’s a possible explanation for whatever’s happening. “Amnesia. That’s tough. Uh, how’d you get it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” you smile, turning back to him. “It was about two years ago, I think. I got in a car crash, but I got lucky. My cousin was with me, so the doctors knew my name and all my essential information. It would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t know who I was, you know?”

He opens his mouth to ask another question, but he feels an arm slide around his neck. It’s Hyunjin, apparently escaped from the confines of Jisung’s tiny room. “Hi, Y/N,” he greets. “Are we any closer to those results?”

“Just about,” you exhale, standing up. “They’re printing, I’ll go get those for you guys.”

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Hyunjin murmurs, “Chan hyung told me what’s up. So, you think it’s her?”

“I don’t think,” Minho hisses. “I know. She said she got in a car crash and had amnesia two years ago, and it matches up with why she doesn’t recognize me. She still knows her name because of her cousin, and- it’s her, Hyunjin. It has to be.”

Hyunjin hesitates, apparently not as convinced as the older boy. “But if she was with her cousin, wouldn’t she know about you? I mean, if it was me, I’d tell my cousin about the guy she just broke up with.”

Minho almost answers, but you’re back, sliding a file across the table. “Get that to Jisung, okay?” you grin, sitting back down. “And come find me if you need something else. Nice talking to you, Minho.”

Snatching the file away, the younger boy guides Minho back to the room. “Hey. If you really think it’s her,” Hyunjin says softly before opening the door again, “go for it. You still have the texts saved, don’t you? Show her. Even if you can’t help her remember, you’ll get your closure.”

Quietly, Minho shakes his head. “I- I can’t. Even if she never broke up with me-- which isn’t possible-- I can’t know that she’s still here, still alive, and that she’ll never remember me.”

Hyunjin reaches over to shake Minho and argues, “But she hasn’t changed. If she loved you once, she can love you again, okay? Just... just try. For yourself.”

Before he can debate Hyunjin again, Seungmin opens the door with a fake scowl. “Hey, what took you so long?”

“Asshole,” Minho frowns back, glad for something to argue about. Seungmin’s always the perfect one to bicker with, his eye rolls as he backs away to let the two boys in the perfect way to rile Minho up. “Hey, don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

For all of his friend’s glances at him, glances that he lets slip by as he ruffles Jisung’s hair rougher than necessary, Minho can admit to himself that he won’t approach you again, at least not for the purpose of finding out what truly happened. It’s difficult, but he can even admit to himself why he wont.

He’s scared. Terrified, even, that he’ll only find out what he knew all along.

You’re good with faces.

It’s kind of a requirement to be a receptionist; after all, nothing makes people happier than being remembered, even if it’s something as simple as being recognized without an introduction while arriving to physical therapy. Besides, after struggling to get back to your normal life for two years, your biggest fear is to lose your memories again.

So when Jisung gets driven to physical therapy a week after you meet his friends, you instantly recognize his driver.

“Minho,” you smile, waving at him. He flushes for some reason, and you stifle a chuckle at the tint of pink in his pale cheeks. He’s cute; your first meeting just put you off a bit. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t I get a greeting?” Jisung pouts, pushing through with his crutches. He’s joking, of course, so you only laugh fondly. “Well, you know why I’m here.”

You check him in with a nod, and call out after Minho, “You don’t have to stay with him for PT, you know. It’s going to be boring, you can come back out after helping him inside.”

Minho laughs, “Thanks for the tip. I’m definitely not staying with him, I’ll be right out.” Jisung’s protests follow them down the hall, and you return to your keyboard with a soft chuckle.

It’s true that after your first encounter with Minho, you wondered whether there was something about your life before the accident that Dahyun didn’t tell you. But your phone broke in the car wreck, and there must’ve been things that you didn’t tell your cousin.

However, in the back of your mind, you can still hear the way Minho said your name. ‘Y/N’, he had breathed, so desperately. You had to have been important to him, too important for you to have never told anyone about him, but when he comes out of Jisung’s room, you assume the role of the friendly receptionist once again.

“Hey,” you wave. “Just so you know, Jisung’s scheduled for a full hour. I’m clocking out for the day in a couple minutes, but you can have him text you when he’s done so you can pick him up. I have to get going, I need to eat before I get on the tram, and it’s a long walk from here.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, shuffling his feet. “You’re clocking out?” At your nod, he clears his throat and offers, “If you haven’t eaten yet, I can drive you to the tteokbokki place near the tram station? I can drop you off, I won’t stay with you if you aren’t comfortable.”

You laugh at his awkwardness, though he’s charismatic enough to make it simply cute. “That would be great, actually. Just give me a second.” While you’re gathering your things, Minho shuffles aside, staring outside to the parking lot as if it’s genuinely interesting, and you crack a smile when you approach him. “Hey. I’m good to go.”

“Let’s go, then,” he smiles, and opens the door for you. The more you see of him, the more familiar he feels-- it really is as if you’ve met him before. Even his car feels like you recognize it, the steady thrum of the engine and the feel of worn leather beneath your fingertips something that you can’t quite put your finger on. Minho doesn’t speak much, though he puts on some music that feels vaguely familiar to you, some boy rapping over a simple beat.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the station, and it barely takes a couple minutes to walk down to the tteokbokki place. For some reason, you feel comfortable around Minho, safe, like you’ve felt with Felix and all his friends that you’ve met so far. Maybe the Australian boy attracts all the good people, you smile to yourself, or maybe you do.

“I’ll pay, what do you want?” Minho offers and takes his wallet out. Though you move to protest, he smiles and holds up a hand, “I insist. You’ve had to deal with me this much already, it’s the least I can do. Besides, you’ll be seeing me a lot, with Jisung’s PT.”

You can only agree and watch him rattle off your order to the cashier. Minho’s smile is almost the same for everyone, his eyes curving and his teeth bright, but it’s the eyes that make the difference. It’s interesting. “Are you the only one of Jisung’s friends who can drive?”

“Ah, not really. The 00 liners and Jeongin don’t have their licenses, of course,” he hums and hands his credit card over. “But Channie is busy with work all the time, and Changbin feels like Jisung bullies him. So that leaves me.”

“I see,” you exhale, following him to an empty table. “You must make quite a bit to afford a car and a parking space. What do you do?”

“Me?” Minho clarifies, even though he’s the only one you could be talking to. “I’m a dancer. Mostly a backup dancer, but sometimes I teach classes or choreograph for idols. I don’t make that much, but I drive all over Seoul, so I thought a car would be a good investment.”

“Not a bad decision,” you smile. “Especially since you saved me the walk over here. You know that every time you drive Jisung over, I’ll be forcing you to give me a ride, right?”

You’re joking, of course; you barely know Minho. But something about your tone changes the glance in his eyes, and his grin fades the slightest bit. Suddenly, he moves towards his bag. “C- can I show you something?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “As long as it’s not... you know.”

“You’ve got jokes,” Minho mumbles, digging through the pockets for his phone. “I like that.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, slightly heightened by his frantic scrolling. You greet and thank the ahjussi who brings you your food, still waiting for him to show you. Before he does, though, Minho looks up with a hesitant expression. “Y/N. Whatever I say, you can’t be alarmed, okay?”

“I can’t make that promise,” you shake your head, “but I’ll do my best.”

He inhales-- then exhales. “Your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You were born on _ _/ _ _/ _ _ _ _, and you were born here. You attended college at Seoul University, though you’ve probably forgotten your major. Your parents’ names are __ Y/L/N and __ Y/L/N, and your cousin is Kim Dahyun.”

Instantly, you bolt out of your seat, ready to run. “H-how do you know that?” Your voice shakes, and your eyes dart from Minho to the booth. He doesn’t look like a threat-- in fact, he looks pained, biting down on his lip before sliding his phone across the table. “What is that?”

“Just take a look.”

When you gingerly slide your eyes to the screen, you gasp; it displays what you assume to be an old photo of you-- and Minho. You remember Dahyun showing you pictures of yourself with that hairstyle-- high school, she said-- but you definitely don’t remember seeing any pictures with Minho. He’s unmistakable even in the uniform, and you’re laughing at him in a way that suggests what you’ve suspected since meeting him-- you were close, to say the least. “We were... friends?” you whisper, barely daring to meet his eyes. When he shakes his head, you lower your fist, previously held up to punch, and say softly, “We loved each other. Like that.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs, taking his phone back. “By the way, does the date 5/19 ring a bell to you?”

“It was the day I woke up,” you answer. Suddenly, your throat is too tight to swallow, and you take your place next to him cautiously. “They... they told me I’d never get my memories back that day. What does it mean to you?”

Minho bites his lip and hands you his phone again. “It was the day you broke up with me.”

"Lee Minho,” you read aloud, “we need to break up. Ouch, that does not sound like me.”

He winces but tries to play it off with a chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I had to read that.”

“We have dated for years, but we...”

You frown and shake your head, scrolling through the text again even though you’re sure that you didn’t miss anything. “The wording, the phrasing... it doesn’t sound like me.” But that’s you on the profile picture, the exact photo of you that Dahyun showed you to gain your trust that first day in the hospital. You raise your head to look at Minho, who’s still staring at you. “This is fucked up.”

“You’re telling me,” he sighs, plucking his phone away. “I tried to text you back after this, tried to call you, but you never picked up. I did all I could, but I watched you leave. So... I think you understand why I was so desperate when I saw you.”

“I think I do,” you say, with your voice soft. It makes sense, now, why Minho looked like he was seeing a ghost when he caught that first glimpse of your face. Because you were a ghost, at least to him, somehow back from the dead in the lobby of the tiny hospital you worked in. “They told me my phone was dead. That’s why I didn’t have any of my old contacts, or my information.”

Minho fills your silence. “And that’s why you never saw my texts, or heard my calls. I- I’m so sorry, that I blamed you at all.”

You catch his wrist and try to smile, “Hey, I don’t blame you for blaming me. It isn’t possible for me to have texted you this with a broken phone and no memories, so... whoever did text you was an asshole. You can blame them all you like.”

His eyes flick over your face, almost like he’s committing you to memory in case you become a ghost again. “Yeah.” But the alarm rings, ten minutes before the last tram home leaves, and Minho’s phone buzzes at the same time. “Um. Can... can we talk about this again? Next time I see you?”

“Of course,” you answer. Maybe you’ll regret that promise, but you know that you’ll regret it more if you never search for what actually happened. And the glow to Minho’s smile when you say ‘yes’ follows you all the way onto the tram, or more specifically, the look in his eyes.

You’d already noticed that Minho looked differently at different people. His gaze was fond at Jisung, sometimes annoyed, and his eyes crinkled in a polite smile in front of the booth workers or your fellow receptionists. You had just never been able to tell how he looked at you, because it was strange, an expression you didn’t recognize.

But staring at his newly-inputted contact on your phone, you realize what it is. Minho looks at you like he knows you inside out, like he loves you more than anything else in the world.

And you aren’t sure which is worse.

Felix isn’t a good liar; from the first time you met, and he told you that you didn’t look horrible in that grimy hospital gown of yours, you knew that he’d never be able to keep a secret. So when you don’t know how to move forward from the whole other side of yourself that you just uncovered, he has to be the first one you talk to.

“Y/N!” He shouts your name with his hands cupped around his mouth despite only being a couple feet away from you, and he plops down onto the stool next to you. “What’s up?”

“Felix, what has Minho told you about me? Or, about Y/N?” He tenses up at the question, and you can’t blame him; you usually aren’t so direct, and it must be difficult to tell you about his friend’s secrets.

But Felix bites his lip and sighs, looks up at the ceiling as if it’ll tell him what to do. “Um, well... he said you guys were classmates. High school and college, but you only started dating when you were 17. He never showed me pictures of you, so I assumed that you hurt him really bad.” You wince at that, but motion for the Australian boy to continue. “Minho hyung... he never dated while I’ve been friends with him. We all thought it was because he was never over you, and I guess he still isn’t.”

“Well, shit,” you sigh, sinking into your hands. “I feel horrible now.”

“Why?” Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “He said that you didn’t think it was you who sent the text, and Dahyun just didn’t tell you about him? It’s not your fault.”

You only shake your head hopelessly and attempt to explain, “I didn’t want to get back into this. I trusted Dahyun to tell me everything, and after 2 years, I find out that I had a boyfriend? Who I ‘broke up with’, and who I hurt really bad. I have to know now, for Minho’s sake if not for mine.”

Felix sighs, “Look, Y/N, I’m sure Minho hyung will understand if you don’t want to get into it all again. He- he loved you, but I think he knows you aren’t who used to be. I think.”

“No, Felix- he never told me that he wanted me to find the answer,” you say quietly. “I just... I can see that he’ll never be able to disassociate me with the Y/N he knew. My face, my mannerisms- Dahyun says I act the same as I used to, and that’s too painful for him if we’ll never know the truth.”

He pauses, then passes you the coffee that a barista slides across the counter. Maybe Felix doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to tell you. But he murmurs in his familiar deep voice, “You’re kind, Y/N, but you have to think about yourself, okay? It’ll hurt Minho to not know, but it’ll hurt you to find out. And I don’t want to see either of you with a broken heart.”

The next time you see Minho, you find yourself analyzing every one of his movements, as if the tiniest hint of familiarity will bring your memories of him back to you.

You’re only drinking coffee together and trying to act like nothing else is between you, but you’re staring at his hands when he cracks his knuckles every so often. You wish that the way his lips curl into a smile was familiar, and you wish you recognized the way his eyelashes frame the brown of his eyes. But as much as you think you’ve seen something before, the fact remains that you barely know a single thing about Minho, while there’s nothing about you that you can hide from him.

It’s been years since you hated how little you remembered. Back when you first learned that the first twenty years of your life had been wasted, you screamed out for whatever all-seeing being to restore your life, and you had no idea if you could go back to the life you had been living with absolutely no memory of it.

Dahyun said she showed you everything. She brought you back to your family home, told you what she could about your parents, who hugged you with tears in their eyes. You stayed there at first, but you couldn’t handle the glances that your family made at you, couldn’t handle the way they still mourned the loss of their daughter.

You didn’t know enough about what used to be to miss it. But when you speak to Minho, you realize that there is something you would miss, something that you would want to chase. And so, you can’t know what it is.

“Y/N, you okay?” He asks, the smile still on his face from telling you about the cats you helped him pick out when he got his own place.

Shaking your head, you nod. “Yeah, sorry for zoning out. I’m just... thinking.”

“About what to do, right?” Minho takes your silence for agreement, and he turns to the window with a sigh. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking too. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, I was selfish not to think how it would make you curious about your old self.”

“No,” you sigh. “I get it. You had to tell me, I imagine it’s still painful to see my face.”

Minho shakes his head, tilting his head as if that’ll let him see more of you. “No, it isn’t painful at all. I see you analyzing me, though, trying to recognize me.”

Heat rises to your ears, and you try to hide it by flicking your eyes away from his face. “Was I that obvious? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Minho.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. He cracks his knuckles again; you imagine that you used to put your hands over his to get him to stop, but you brush the thought away as fast as you can. “What do you want to do, though? It’s too difficult to stay away from each other in a town like this, especially when we have a mutual friend. But I’ll try my best to do what you want me to.”

You bite your lip and tap your hands on your knee. To be truthful, you’ve known what you wanted to do for a long time; you know exactly what you want to say, and you know who you want to say it to. “I want us to talk to Dahyun,” you answer. “I think... I can’t ask her about it. But I want to see how she reacts to seeing you.”

When he doesn’t respond, you almost move to touch his arm. “Minho? You can tell me if you don’t walk to talk to her, I won’t force you to do it.”

But he turns, tries to disguise the rueful smile on his face. He fails, of course, and you draw your hand back. “No, I... I’m sorry, that just reminded me of something. I’ll come with you.”

“Okay. I’m going to lunch with her tomorrow,” you explain, scrolling through the calendar on your phone, “and I think that’s the time. I’ll just say you’re my friend or something, and we’ll see how she reacts.”

Minho frowns, “Is it suspicious to randomly bring a friend to lunch with your cousin? Or do you do that often?”

You sigh at that and pause your scrolling to think. “No, you’re right. I think I’ll have to say you’re my boyfriend or something, then she’ll be excited to expect you.”

“Boyfriend? How do you know I’m not dating someone already?” Minho jokes. You laugh lightly and push his arm without thinking, but his smile only grows as he protests, “I’m serious! Do you not think I’d be dating someone by this time?”

“I see the way you look at me,” you chuckle, “If you were dating someone, I’d feel bad for them.”

Silence settles again, and you wince, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, should be me that’s sorry,” he mumbles, ruffling his hair. “I shouldn’t be making you uncomfortable, I know that you’re a different person at this point. Uh, could you send me the location of the restaurant? And the time?”

You recognize his attempt to change the subject, and you accept it gratefully. “Yeah. It’s noon tomorrow, but I think we should arrive together.”

“I’ll pick you up from the hospital,” he smiles, moving to crack his knuckles yet again.

Maybe it’s out of nervousness, maybe it’s just a habit, but you move to stop it this time, your hand resting gently over his. “Stop that,” you mumble to hide the heat in your cheeks. “I read somewhere that it hurts your knuckles. You’ll get arthritis.”

“You work in a hospital, you should know that that isn’t how it works,” Minho snickers, but he doesn’t move your hands off him. Strangely, this feels familiar, like you’ve done it before, like it’s always been comfortable. So you don’t move, only sip your coffee with your spare hand and try not to think about what could’ve been.

Minho opens the door for you yet again, bowing slightly when you pass through the doorway. “She’s here already, yeah?” His voice is soft when he speaks to you, and his hands in his pockets when he catches up to you again in the restaurant. He’s the picture of calmness, except for the way his eyes flick around the restaurant like he can recognize your cousin before you do. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

“She went to the same school as us, didn’t she?” you mumble, looking through your texts again for the table number Dahyun texted you. “She’s a year younger, she told me.”

“Yeah, but Dahyun hung out with us a lot,” Minho explains, “she was pretty cool. Funny, too, I don’t know if she’s showed you her eagle dance yet?”

You laugh at that, turning onto the stairs. “She has, actually. Made me laugh instead of cry. I appreciate that about her.”

Dahyun’s easy enough to recognize; her hair’s bright blue among a sea of dark-haired people seated at the tables, and she’s a good head shorter than the people who sit around her. You rush up from behind her and wrap your arms around her neck, almost putting the girl in a headlock. “Y/N,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she struggles against your grip. “Get off, I’m here to see your boy--”

Her smile instantly disappears when she sees Minho, but she rearranges it quick enough to bow to him. “Hi. I’m Kim Dahyun, Y/N’s cousin.”

So she wants to play like that. You give Dahyun another squeeze before sitting next to Minho on the other side of the table. “So, this is my boyfriend, Minho. What do you think?” you joke, keeping your tone as light as you can.

“He’s cute,” Dahyun answers. Usually, she’s good at keeping a hold of herself, but her voice sounds stifled this time, like she wants to lean over and punch him in the face or something. “I... Y/N, where’d you guys meet?”

Minho steps in to answer, “At where she works in the hospital. I keep dropping my friend off for PT, and I just keep seeing her.” That part’s true, at least, though you’re surprised at how charismatic and natural Minho seems while he lies. “She told me how she started working at the hospital downtown after being treated there, so I guess that’s how I never saw her before.”

Dahyun sighs, “Do you know what she was treated for?”

“Amnesia,” he frowns, “what else? Y/N told me that when we first met.”

A beat of silence passes, and you’re almost sure that Dahyun can see right through your lies, but your thoughts are cut off when she blurts out, “You’re lying, right? Minho, I don’t know if you’re lying to Y/N or if the both of you are lying to me, but you can’t be... you can’t be telling everything about this. She broke up with you years ago.”

“We all know that’s not true,” you say softly. Maybe there’s a hint of deadliness to your tone, though, because when you lean forward, Dahyun scoots back in her chair. “You told me my phone was dead on the day I woke up, the day that the texts were sent. How could I have sent those texts, from a shattered phone, without the contact that you wouldn’t tell me?”

The blue-haired girl presses her lips together, but she says, “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of here.”

“No one’s accusing you of anything,” Minho shakes his head. “But we have to know. What happened here?”

Dahyun’s voice is almost too quiet to hear when she finally answers, “Minho, you would’ve been wrecked. And- letting her know that she would never be able to remember you... would’ve wrecked her more.”

You can’t keep your voice from getting louder when you ask, “So?” Minho squeezes your hand and you soften before saying again, “So? What did you do, Dahyun?”

“I texted him in place of you,” she blurts, clasping her hand over her mouth. Her eyes must reflect the hurt you feel, because you lash back when she reaches for you. “I... I never told you about Minho or any of your friends. I’m sorry, Y/N, I did what I thought was best, and all these years, I didn’t know... I didn’t know how I could fix that.”

Minho says nothing close to what you think he will, and he’s nowhere near as angry as you are. “I know why you did it, Dahyun,” he says. There are tears brimming in your cousin’s eyes, and you’re sure that Minho’s doing his best not to let them spill. “But- you knew me, knew Y/N. I don’t think you should’ve made that decision for us.”

“You definitely shouldn’t have,” you almost snap. You stand, tugging Minho up with you by his hand. “I... We have to go. I just need time to think, Dahyun.”

And if you were thinking rationally, you’d never leave like that. You’d never leave a conversation half-finished, with an angry end, but you can’t concentrate about anything other than the warmth of Minho’s hand in yours as you storm out of the restaurant.

Once you are hidden in an alleyway, he holds you by your elbows, as if he’s trying to stop you from running away. “Y/N,” he says softly, “look at me.”

When you do, you’re surprised at how blurry his face is, the shadows and highlights of his face swirled together in your tears. “We know now,” Minho continues. “I know you’re hurt right now, but I just want to say that you don’t have to know what to do now. You... we have time to think about what we can say about that information.”

“Stop,” you cry out, tearing your hands out of his grip to press them to your eyes. “Stop being so good to me. I know you only remember how much you loved the old me, and we have the same face, but we aren’t the same, Minho, you don’t love me. So- you don’t have to be so good to me just because you used to--”

He pulls you into a hug. It’s a bit aggressive, and you collide with him a little harder than you would in a normal hug, but against his chest, you can hear the sobs that he stifles in case anyone’s listening. “I’m not doing this because I used to love you, Y/N. I’m doing this because I think I can love you again.”

“That’s worse!” You push him away slightly, just enough to untangle yourself and your own heart. “Minho, that’s so much worse. You- you’ll never love me, you know. You’ll never stop seeing that Y/N in me. I just. I need to think.”

For the second time in that day, you end another conversation like you never would, but you keep your head down to hide the tear tracks on your face. There’s nothing you can say without hurting someone you seriously care about, no matter how much you wish you didn’t care about either of them.

You do. God, you do, and it hurts so much.

Jisung hobbles his own way into the lobby. He’s fast on his crutches, actually, and he almost doesn’t need you rushing to open the door for him. “Hey,” you smile, though you’re sure that your eyes are still puffy under your makeup. “Alone today?”

“Hyungs are all busy,” he pouts, though he obviously doesn’t really mind. “Y/N, have you checked your email recently?”

“Uh. No?” you answer, raising your eyebrows as you guide him down the hall. “Why? Did you send me something weird?”

He moves the crutch to smack the back of your leg, grinning even when you poke him as hard as you can without literally hurting him. “No. But there’s something in there I think you’ll want to see. I’ll see you in an hour, Y/N, hopefully.”

All of Jisung’s cryptic messages leave you scowling at the closed PT door, then frowning all the way back to your desk. You click fast through your inbox and ignore all the other messages for the one at the top, the one from [email protected], entitled ‘ywb’.

It’s a video message, and when you click on it, Jisung appears. “Hi, Y/N. I’ll keep this short,” he smiles through the screen. “But this message isn’t really from me. No matter what, I want you to watch the whole thing, can you promise me that?” You nod even though he’s in a whole different room, and he flashes a thumbs up like he can see it. “Cool. Enjoy, and try not to cry.”

The screen goes black, then flashes to a girl running through the snow. But she turns, and you gasp, because it’s you-- it’s a beanie and a scarf that you still own, sitting in your closet, but it’s a smile that you have only seen in pictures. And when you see the look in your eyes, you know who has to be behind the camera, and as much as you wish you wouldn’t, you’ve promised, and you keep watching.

Because every time that the outfit and the scene changes, your smile stays the same. You only see flashes of a hand, the peal of laughter under the soft music layered over, but you know. It has to be Minho, and you almost yearn to be the person in the videos again, grinning at him like there’s nothing else you can think of.

Slowly, he starts appearing in the video too, just flashes of the two of you singing at the top of your lungs in a karaoke booth, a short clip of you squirting him right in the face with a water gun. And the smile from the video makes its way onto your face, completely unconscious as you stare at the video.

Hours could’ve passed in minutes, and you wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t break from your trance until the screen goes dark again. But this time, Minho’s face appears, his features lit by a bright desk light in the darkness of his room. “Hi, Y/N,” he says softly, running his hands through his hair. “Thank you for watching this far. Uh... I just wanted to show you those videos. Because I just deleted them.”

He hums for a second before continuing, “I realized you were right. As long as I hold on to who you used to be, I’ll never be able to truly love you right now, even though I really want to. You aren’t the same person as you were, and even though you might not think so, I want to know you right now.”

Minho’s eyes curve sweetly when he reaches for the camera and fiddles with it. He smiles, “So if you can believe me, I want to take those videos again, with you this time. I’m more than willing-- no, I want nothing more than to get to know you again. So just... call me. Whenever you see this. I don’t really trust Jisung to get this to you in time.”

You manage to laugh through the blurriness in your eyes, but you’re already moving to pick up your phone when the video ends, Minho’s hand the last thing you see on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey.” You can hear something in the background, probably the other people in his studio, but they get quieter as Minho talks. “I guess you watched it?”

“I watched it.” You save the video to the drive always plugged into the laptop, but there’s a small smile on your face as you imagine Minho staring into the mirror of the dance room as he talks to you. “How fast can you get here?”

“Uh. It takes 5 minutes to drive to you, so you can expect me in 10,” he answers. The smile on his face is audible, and your own grin grows when he covers the mic to shout at someone. “I won’t look gross, promise. But, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He ends the call before you can say anything in return, but you smile at the phone screen all the way until you poke your head around the corner to shout at Seulgi. “Hey! I’m clocking out in 10!” Maybe the grin in the video is familiar after all as you reach for your bag.

While you’ll never get your past back, there’s always the future. You will never get the perfectly fresh start you want, but it’s a start nonetheless. It’s the step towards something new that you’ve been needing, and it’s with the person that you never thought you’d find again.

279 notes · View notes

blrush · 3 years

Text

Rec List Request

A personalised list for @jammy-boy 🥰 could be of interest to others, so enjoy!

Basic requirements: - just finished and loved SOTUS - is Arthur/Merlin trash - loves a twist or reversal of classic “power-dynamic” - loves angst with happy ending ______________________________

Theory of Love

Film student Third (Gun) has been secretly in love with his best friend Khai (Off) for three years, but Khai is straight, a massive player, and a total arsehole if we’re being honest. This starts painful, but then they start playing around with tropes and expectations and then it changes POV which just HITS so hard and completely changes your whole perception. You know the movie Flipped? It references that, and then does the flip - so good.

Knowing the level of pining, pain and angst that you love (plus your background in film studies) I feel like this is required viewing. Get out the tissues. But also, it’s still really funny and cute/dumb (cause gmmtv) and the production was excellent. Also, Off/Gun are PEAK natural chemistry and Gun is such an incredible actor that watching him cry or yell at someone is still preferable to other actors being happy.

Watch on YouTube HERE

He’s Coming To Me

Precious baby boi Singto plays Med, a ghost, who is is stuck in limbo for 20 years - until he meets a boy who can see him, Thun (my baby boi Ohm) who promises to help him figure out his unfinished business and cross over. And then they were roommates! And then they start falling in love and it’s ANGSTY because they know Med will have to leave one day. Ouch, my heart.

You will enjoy the mixture of domestic fluff and tragic angst in this. But don’t worry it has a happy ending (kind of, I think, from memory haha). Also, you will enjoy the fact that they can’t touch (cause, ghost) which is *chefs kiss* except for moments of heightened emotions when Thun’s powers become strong enough that he can touch Med (FUCK YES, THIS TROPE IS EVERYTHING)

After much whining from fans, they put it up on Youtube haha so watch HERE.

Until We Meet Again

ANNGST. RE.IN.CAR.NA.TION. ANGST. What else do you need to know?!?! Reincarnated soulmates trope?!!? HELLO!?!? It’s so beautiful. I’m still not over it. And yes it has a happy ending, it starts super sad, then ends up super fluffy and the romantic fluffy moments oh god it’s so romantic. I know you love like soft domestic food sharing etc - this show is ALL about the cooking.

The casting, the characterisation, the acting, the story, the music, even the friendship group and the side-couple, it’s perfection *chefs kiss* PERFECTION

Watch on youtube HERE

A Tale of A Thousand Stars

After the lovely volunteer teacher Torfun dies (RIP poor torfun) in a tragic accident, her heart is transplanted into selfish pretty rich boy Tian (played by the beautiful Mix). After learning of her selfless character, he feels guilt and shame for living (the angst is very real) and makes it his mission to complete her life’s wishes and follow in her footsteps.

As the new village volunteer teacher, he then falls in love with the very handsome and very shirtless chief Phupha (Earth), who lives to protect the trees, we stan an environmental man. Angst, fluff, complications, and many miscommunications ensue. I was tearing my hair out by the end of this show. Yes, it has a happy ending (eventually). Earth x Mix was a pairing we did not know we even wanted or needed until this show happened and now I cry every time I see a picture of them together. Every single time Phupha looks at Tian in this show I literally tear up. HE LOVES HIM SO MUUUUUCHHH *crying again*

Watch on youtube HERE

I Told Sunset About You

Childhood best-friends, turned enemies (for stupid kid reasons), to lovers. This is ANGSTY but so fucking beautiful it’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t even class this as “BL” because it doesn’t have any of the standard tropes, and there’s no silly sound-effects or innuendo jokes. This is like genuine lgbt+ indie-film realness. You can honestly just watch it for the cinematography and the music. The AESTHETIC of this show is what truly makes it special. The symbolism, the colours, this show said CINEMA. And the sexual tension is absolutely WILD. You will live for the angst (with a happy ending). And no, do not bother watching season 2, it’s perfect as a stand-alone mini-series. (I’m still upset).

Watch HERE

and now for some stand-out non-Thai series...

Where Your Eyes Linger

Korea has gotten on the BL train, and has now made a whole bunch of viki mini-series that are all cute but this one is right up your alley. This is VERY merthur. It’s literally servant/master, bodyguard/prince trope. But, I thought the characterisation was nicely thought out and wasn’t what I was expecting. The tension is palpable, the angst is juicy, and the soft kdrama vibes are cheesy and wonderful. Angst with a happy ending (of course).

Watch on VIKI

HIStory 3: Trapped

So the Taiwanese HIStory series has been around forever, and I love the whole series (History 2: Crossing The Line is my all time fav). But for youuuu, I think the most appropriate is Trapped. Police detective single-mindedly obsessed with a gang leader? Yes please. But whatever power-dynamic expectations you would have of a police/criminal couple are twisted and warped immediately! This series is so endearing, it’s mostly comedy/action, and whilst it has plenty of angst, mostly it’s just CUTE as fuck. Also the side couple are adorable too!

The whole History series is on Viki now yay!

The Untamed

Look, I KNOW 50 episodes of plot-heavy chinese historical fantasy is a lot. But there’s a reason this show was soooo popular. It only took me like 3 attempts and a whole ass “guide” pdf to figure out what the fuck was happening in the first ep cause its non-linear. But, if you are in the right mood (ie; sick, or in lockdown) and need something to get completely LOST in for like a week, then watch this haha. I know you couldn’t make it through Guardian, but maybe this one will hit the spot.

This has all the angsty character tropes you live for. And cause it’s censored, there’s no actual romance, so instead it’s just the best kind of UST, character driven, emotional soulmate angst. To summarise: Wei Wuxian is; adopted, a trouble-maker, impetuous, head-strong, fun-loving, has a martyr complex and wants to save everyone. Meanwhile, Lan Zhan is; lawful good to a fault, stoic, shy, and has a martyr complex about saving Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian ONLY. Now throw them into the middle of supernatural / political turmoil and see what happens. Well I’ll tell you what happens, Wei Wuxian becomes the “villain”, gets killed, and Lan Zhan spends 16 years looking for him. FUCKING KILL ME OKAY. (No, that’s not a spoiler it happens in the first episode haha)

Do NOT watch on Netflix the subs are trash. Watch on Youtube or Viki

~ ~ ~

This list may seem long but I was VERY reserved in my selection okay you have no idea how tiny this tip of the iceberg is 😂

Also, knowing your love of no-touching, tension, and angst. I would also briefly draw your attention so School 2013 in my bromance list which is the single most angsty show about friendship ever made.

Enjoy!

#rec list #bl series #thai bl #taiwanese bl #chinese bl

59 notes · View notes

vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.

This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.

Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.

At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.

“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.

“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.

“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.

“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”

“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”

“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.

“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.

“Make it a month, I know my worth.”

Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.

Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.

“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.

Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”

“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”

‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.

“Bring a mop too.”

Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.

“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”

“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.

“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.

“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”

“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.

“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.

“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.

“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”

“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.

“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.

“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”

“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.

“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.

“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.

“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.

You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.

“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”

You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.

“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.

“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”

You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”

Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.

“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.

You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.

“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned

“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

“(Y/N)!”

#avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman fluff #tom holland spiderman #marvel #marvel fic #peter parker fic

1K notes · View notes

averykedavra · 3 years

Text

Ever Slightly Out of Reach

So it’s been a hot second since I wrote anything, thanks to finals, and I wanted a quick warmup to get myself back in the groove. And that quick warmup may have turned out not-so-quick. That’s partly thanks to the great base prompt by @fanartfunart, which I fell in love with. I hope I stayed true to the spirit of the AU, and I hope you all enjoy this rambling plotless ghost fluff.

(Title from Still Here by Digital Daggers. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Creativitwins

Words: 8068

Warnings: death mentions, injury mentions, possession (but a very consensual and low-key kind), arguing, some gross-out humor, and thunderstorms

It was a dark and stormy afternoon, and Remus was preparing to be possessed.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Roman said, floating in his favorite position above the foot of Remus’ bed. One of his legs dangled towards the floor. The other was nowhere to be found. “We should really do something else.”

“Don’t be a quitter,” Remus said. He combed his hair with his fingers. “It’s fun!”

“It’s not.”

“You like it,” Remus complained. “Last time, you squealed about getting to eat an apple.”

“Yeah, but--” Roman winced. “You feel all greasy. It’s like I’m stuck in a--really dirty oven mitt.”

“Hey!”

“You probably haven’t showered for days.” Roman flopped upside down and his mist tinted red. “Did you even wash your hands after lunch?”

Remus looked down at his hands. His nails still had dirt stuck under them in little crescent moons. Yesterday, he’d dug up weeds from the garden and brought them to show Roman. The mess was always part of the fun.

“I didn’t wash my hands,” Remus admitted, “but it’s no biggie--”

“Ew!” Roman interrupted, folding his arms until they blended together. “And I knew it! You never wash your hands! You don’t even do it after you pick your nose!”

Remus grinned and shoved his finger into his nose, just for fun.

“Ew!” Roman yelled louder. “Grow up!”

“I’m already nine,” Remus said triumphantly, poking the finger a bit further to see if he could feel his brains. “Nine and one whole quarter.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m way older than you. Shut it, doodoo head.”

“You shut it!” Remus yanked his finger out of his nose and wiped it on his sash. Roman cringed. “You’re gonna go inside this doodoo head and you’re gonna like it.”

Roman huffed. But Remus knew he wasn’t really mad, ‘cause when Roman got real mad, the furniture wasn’t on the ground anymore.

“Come on,” Remus pleaded, flopping onto the carpet. He gave Roman his best give-me-candy-I’m-a-good-boy look. “You know you wanna. We’ll only do it for like six seconds and it’ll be hilarious.”

“It’s not funny,” Roman said.

“Prove it.” Remus popped back upright and kicked his bare feet in the air. “Possess me.”

“No.”

“Come on! You’re worse than Mom!” Remus rolled his eyes until the whites showed. “I’m gonna go back to school tomorrow and I wanna do this now! Before I’ve got homework and stuff. And if you practice, you’ll get really good, and we could go all sorts of places together!”

Roman shivered. “I don’t want to go anywhere in your gross head.”

“I’m awesome for possessing,” Remus said. He tried to imitate the commercials on TV and in-between videos about car explosions. “I’m cool, I’m smart, I have cool hair, I’ve had a whole entire boyfriend--”

“That was in kindergarten,” Roman said. “It doesn’t count.”

“It does too!”

“Does not!”

“And I’m awesome,” Remus said, forcing himself away from an argument. “And I have ten whole fingers and ten whole toes. You have, like, five. Tops.”

Roman counted his currently-visible fingers. “Seven.”

“See?” Remus pointed at him. “And--and! And I have a cool outfit. So I’m the best for possessing.”

Roman gave Remus a look. An I-don’t-want-to-be-mean look. Remus knew that look from teachers who didn’t like his drawings. And classmates who thought he was freaky. And his parents when they tried to tell him again that Roman wasn’t real, Remus was just making up an imaginary friend, and shouldn’t he try to go play with some kids his own age?

Remus knew, though. He knew he wasn’t making Roman up. Two years of being besties wasn’t made-up, and just because nobody else could see Roman didn’t mean Roman wasn’t there. Sometimes things stayed in houses without people noticing. Like stains. Or the slug Remus kept in a shoebox. If his parents didn’t know about the slug, it made sense that they might not know about Roman, either.

Typical grownups. Thought they knew everything.

Roman was nice, because he actually did know stuff. Not stuff like how TVs worked--Remus had tried to explain it, Roman just didn’t get it--but other stuff. Stuff he wouldn’t tell Remus sometimes.

“How’d you die?” Remus asked, instead of trying to remember what he’d just been talking about. He hadn’t asked yet today. Maybe this time it’d work.

“Quicksand,” Roman said.

Could be true. “How?”

“I fell into it.” Roman was definitely telling a story now. He got all dramatic whenever he made something up. “It was a sad, sad day.”

“Why’d you fall into quicksand?” Remus asked, sitting on the carpet and pulling at the threads. “Seems kinda stupid if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Roman said. “I didn’t fall, I was pushed.”

“You said you fell!”

“I said wrong!” Roman huffed, and red flickered around his eyes. “I got pushed because my uncle wanted the kingdom for himself. Quicksand is really cold, actually. All my bones got filled with sand one by one, and it tasted super gross.”

“Did your eye sockets get filled up too?” Remus asked.

Roman nodded. “And my ear sockets. And then I died.”

Remus decided that was a good enough story, and accepted it at face value. “That does sound real gross.”

“It was.” Roman snickered. “Almost as gross as being in your head.”

“Hey!” Remus jumped up. “Look, if you don’t like my head, you can go sit in the living room and talk to all the grownups. But we’ve done this before! You possessed me on accident--”

“I said I was sorry,” Roman mumbled.

“--and then you did it on purpose a couple times, and it was really cool, it was like--” Remus waved his hands and smashed them together. “Bam! You and me all in one brain! And I wanna do it again, so we can figure out how it works, and we can do it for longer!”

Roman raised an eyebrow until it disappeared. “Why?”

“So you can--” Remus gestured at him. “We could do stuff together!”

“We already do stuff together.”

“No, like--” Remus glanced out the window. He could just see the road in the distance. The bus stop was right across the street. He’d have to stand there tomorrow, even if it was still raining. “I know you never leave the house, but if you were me, we could--”

Roman’s eyes hardened. “No.”

Remus faltered. “I just thought--”

Roman immediately looked guilty. He shifted back and forth in midair, and for a few seconds, he almost disappeared altogether. Then he stabilized. Bright white, small, and still just Remus’ height--Roman never explained why they’d been growing together, and maybe he didn’t know. Or maybe it was just another thing Roman wouldn’t tell him.

For a best friend, Roman kept a lot of secrets.

But still. Maybe that was just how friends were. Remus didn’t really have a lot of experience.

“It’s okay,” Roman said to where his feet would probably be. “I just--fine. I’ll possess you, alright? If you really wanna. I’ll wear your weird outfit and everything. But you owe me a favor.”

Remus squealed and twirled around. He didn’t even care that Roman insulted his outfit. He didn’t care about the favor, either--Remus owed Roman like twenty favors by now, it was fine. Remus had time to pay him back later. Roman wasn’t exactly going anywhere.

“This is gonna be great!” Remus blurted out, gesturing for Roman to join him on the carpet. “Okay, you can do it whenever, and you can pop out whenever! But go ahead and try to do stuff while you’re me! So we can see how it works.”

Roman nodded a bit, floating just above the carpet. “So...now?”

“Now,” Remus said. “Unless you’re too chicken--I’m not a chicken!”

Roman’s voice, Remus’ mouth. Roman was gone from the carpet. Remus stood alone in his room.

Remus grinned. “Awesome.”

His grin twisted into an annoyed smirk, followed by an “If you say so.”

It really was awesome. Being possessed was like when you sat in one place for too long and your legs fell asleep. It tingled all over his skin. It made him kinda slow to move and slow to think, and it felt a bit like he was floating, just like Roman could. His head was dizzy and the room was deeper than it used to be, like Remus could see it from every angle, and the rain drummed louder and louder.

“This is so cool,” Remus whispered. It took a second for the words to work, even though Roman quickly let him talk. “You wanna try and move?”

“You can move,” Roman said back, seeming to retreat from Remus’ legs. Remus kicked his foot at the carpet. “I’m not good at walking anymore.”

“Practice makes perfect!” Remus concentrated and tried to shove Roman into the legs again. Go in there, go in there, come on--

“Don’t think so loud.” Roman huffed and rolled Remus’ eyes. “Fine. I’ll try to walk. Don’t grab control until I’m done, though, ‘cause you’ll make us both fall over.”

Remus mimed zipping his lips. The next second, he was pulled closer into himself and away from his skin. He felt his legs move. Roman walked with an awkward wobble--probably because he didn’t have legs most of the time--and a kind of glide. Remus tried very hard not to interrupt Roman. He sucked in his breath and watched patiently.

Roman had managed to walk them halfway across the room. He was picking up speed now, seeming to remember how it worked when gravity existed, and Remus felt his mouth twist in a smile. They walked past the window, Roman skimming fingers across the pane and leaving water on Remus’ hands. Around and around. Roman knew this place, Remus started to feel--he knew where the door was and how many steps it took to get there. He knew how to dash around corners, he knew where to kick the doors, he knew the creakiest floorboards. He’d just forgotten.

“You wanna go downstairs?” Remus asked, trying his hardest to keep his control from spreading to his legs. “We could get a snack.”

“Good idea!” Roman sounded excited. He always sounded excited. Why did he complain about possession stuff anyway? He clearly liked to be in Remus’ head, and he liked to be able to walk around, and he was good at it. Remus didn’t even have to worry, ‘cause Roman knew where to go--

And they both crashed into the wall.

Remus fell onto the floor. His knee banged something on the way down, and it started to hurt, especially when he grabbed it to see what was wrong.

“Ow!” Remus complained. The words hit no barrier. “Ow, fudge-popsicle-muffin-nugget, what the frick?”

“Sorry!” Roman was crumpled next to him, adjusting his sash. The stupid muffin probably left as soon as things started to hurt. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Why’d you lead us into the wall?” Remus inspected his knee. It wasn’t quite scream-for-Mom worthy--no blood--but maybe he’d put a bandaid on it, just in case. “That hurt, stupid.”

“There wasn’t a wall there!” Roman complained.

Remus pointed at the very obvious wall.

“I mean there didn’t use to be one.” Roman drifted upright. He did look sorry about it, which made Remus less annoyed. “That’s where the door used to be. I got mixed up.”

“It’s been at least two years.” Remus pulled himself to his feet. His knee still stung, but not that bad. “Get used to the new door, weirdo.”

“I never have to use it!” Roman floated halfway through the wall as an example. The wallpaper curled slightly, like he’d lit a fire next to it. “Not my fault that you guys put all the things in different places. I never know how to get anywhere anymore!”

Remus blew a raspberry at him. “Maybe look around you, weener. It’s your house, you gotta know it.”

Roman glared at the wall. “Doesn’t feel like my house.”

After a second, Remus clapped his hands. “Can’t have you walk around in my body if you’re gonna ride it off a cliff, so--guess we’re done?”

“We’re done,” Roman said, looking relieved. “I’m spared your terrible fashion sense.”

“Hey!” Remus grabbed his sash protectively. “I made this outfit myself and I love it and you can shut your hole.”

“Okay, okay.” Roman drifted over to the bed and stretched his arms. “What do we do now?”

Remus hummed, looking between Roman and the door. It was still raining. It was the last day of summer vacation--not the last last day, but tomorrow Remus was gonna get a new backpack, and that was fun but it didn’t have Roman. Roman never came shopping with him. So Remus got one day before Roman would be stuck in the house all alone.

He could try to get Roman to come along, but he didn’t wanna waste the afternoon.

Remus looked back at the door. Had it really been in a different place? Remus knew that all the furniture was different now, especially in the living room, but he didn’t know about the doors. He didn’t know much about the house at all. It was too big--good for hide and seek, bad for understanding. Sometimes Remus wished he had a house GPS.

Actually--

“I’ve got an idea,” Remus said. “Do you wanna make a map?”

“A map?” Roman asked. He already looked interested. “Like a treasure map?”

“No, a map of the house! From bottom to top!”

Roman tilted his head. “Why?”

“So we don’t get lost!” Remus hopped in place. “You can know the way around, and so can I! It’ll be fun, come on, come on come on come on--”

“That does sound like an adventure,” Roman said slowly.

“Yeah!” Remus nodded his head as fast as he could. “We can make a whole big map and we can both draw on it! It can be like a treasure map, except it’s just the whole house all the way through!”

Roman smiled. “We’ll need a lot of paper, right?”

“Woo!” Remus cheered. He always felt great when Roman liked his ideas. “Let’s go-go-go!”

“Paper,” Roman said as Remus threw open the door. “And pencils.”

“I bet Mom has some!” Remus waved his hands. “Come on, Ro, don’t waste time!”

“I’ve got all the time,” Roman teased, but he followed Remus into the hallway.

Remus was really good at getting places fast. Why wait and walk somewhere, if you could get to the cool place in half the time? He kicked off the edge of the carpet, slid and sped down the hallway, jumped past the other bedrooms, and barely paused at the staircase. Up onto the banister, a little push, and then down!

The rooms spun past him in a spiral, his feet flying, and he giggled wildly as he slipped towards the first floor. Whenever he tilted too hard in one direction, the wind pushed him back into place. Remus could go as fast as he liked, because Roman was there to keep him on course. He could never fall without Roman catching him.

When the banister tapered off in a swirl, Remus catapulted himself off the edge, rolling onto the carpet and springing back up. Roman grinned at him when he solidified enough to have a mouth. Remus didn’t wait for the rest of his face. He barreled across the tiles, skidded around the corner, and burst into the kitchen.

“Mom! Mom-Mom-Mom!” Remus darted over and tugged at her arm. “Mom!”

“What is it?” she asked. She’d been leaning on the counter, checking her phone. “What do you need, Remus?”

“Do you have paper?” Remus spread his hands wide. “Like, super big paper?”

“There should be some in the attic.” She frowned. “What are you up to?”

“Nothin’.” Remus glanced over to Roman, who was curiously poking at the window boxes. “We’re just gonna draw something, is all.”

“We--” Her mouth worked for a few seconds, like she had a lollipop stuck to her tongue. “Oh. Are you sure you don’t want to do something else for your last day of vacation? Go for a walk? It can’t be good for that brain of yours to be cooped up inside.”

Remus knocked on his skull. “It seems fine to me. And it’s raining out!”

“I think it’ll stop for a bit later,” Mom said unconvincingly. “I--I’m just not sure if you want to run around in the house all day. You spend too much time inside it already.”

“I do not.” Remus pouted. “I like it here!”

“I’m glad you do.” She drummed her fingers on the counter before sighing. “Maybe you’ll make some friends at school.”

“Don’t need any friends,” Remus said. “I’ve got a friend.”

“Right. Right.” Mom rubbed her eyes. “Like I said, the paper is in the attic. You might want to ask your father for help with it. And don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“I won’t!”

“I know how much that’s worth.” She slipped her phone into her pocket and grabbed a spatula. “Holler if you need me.”

“I will!” Remus gestured to Roman, who reluctantly floated away from the window. “Come on, Ro, we haven’t got all day!”

Accompanied by a long sigh that melted into the wind, Remus and Roman left the kitchen.

“You’ll have to go back in, if you want to make a map,” Roman pointed out.

“I know what the kitchen looks like.” Remus scoffed. “Stove, oven, fridge, things I’m not allowed to touch. Easy-peasy.”

He hopped up the stairs two at a time. Roman drifted along the banister and peeked at the rooms below. Whenever he flipped upside down, his hair pooled around his face like a cloud of smoke. Remus idly batted at him. Roman felt like nothing. Nothing and warm.

“She said the stuff’s in the attic,” Remus said, hopping off the stairs and barreling down the hallway to the other stairs. “And that’s got the fun trapdoor, right?”

“We broke the trapdoor,” Roman said. “It’s just a hole now.”

“Not my fault it can’t handle paintballs.” Remus scrambled up the other stairs. “But Mom said that’s got the paper, so you and I can go get it.”

“She also said you have to ask your dad.”

“She’s stupid.”

“I can just get the paper.” Roman flickered and appeared farther up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t--” Remus didn’t even manage to finish the sentence before Roman was gone. A bit of mist curled from the landing. It drifted to the window, slipped through the glass, and disappeared into the rain. So Roman’s mist could go outside, but Roman couldn’t? What kind of rules were there? Why did Roman never get to go where Remus could?

Remus shivered. It got cold easily in the house. Something about drafts. He felt very small on the staircase, alone, scuffing the red carpet with his toes.

Roman would be back soon. He always got back soon. Roman used to go all sorts of places without Remus, until Remus got tired of trying to find him every time he woke up. Ghosts were better than people, but ghosts were harder to find when they got lost. Remus used to worry that Roman would get really lost. So lost that Remus wouldn’t be able to see him anymore, and he’d forget that Roman was real. And he wouldn’t have any friends, and he’d just be alone in the cold stupid house.

Remus didn’t worry that anymore. At least, he thought he didn’t. Now, with the gray light shining through the windows, he felt ants in his intestines.

“Wait up!” Remus called, and ran after Roman.

He caught up right beneath the attic. Roman was right--it was still a hole. A square hole above the bookcase, with foldable stairs squeezed next to the books.

“Ro!” Remus yelled.

A thump or two, and a misty face reappeared. In the dark, Roman glowed, like glow-in-the-dark shoes. “What?”

“Can I come up?” Remus asked.

“I’m almost done!” Roman disappeared. Another few thumps shook the ceiling. “Catch!”

A pad of paper fell through the hole. Remus tried to catch it, failed, and grabbed it before Roman could notice.

“That’s all I could find.” Pencils and pens rained from the hole, followed by a smaller notebook. “Does it work?”

Remus frowned at the paper. It was small, only about the size of a poster. “Can we fit the whole house on here?”

“We could go room by room.” Roman drifted down to Remus, aimed wrong, and stuck his arm through Remus’ shoulder. Remus laughed and swatted the air. Roman adjusted himself. “Make one map for each room.”

“I guess.” That wouldn’t help with finding rooms, but this was about Roman knowing where the doors were. Remus didn’t want Roman to get lost while Remus was gone. “That works.”

“Fantastic!” Roman looked around. “Which room first?”

“Top to bottom?” Remus pointed at the ceiling. “Let’s start with the attic.”

It took several tries for Roman to lift Remus through the hole. Remus almost hit his head on the side, making Roman drop him out of panic, making Remus almost hit his head on the floor. Roman caught him, of course, but it took another minute for Remus to get Roman to try again. Finally, Remus squeezed through the hole. Floating felt like going up an elevator. If the elevator was wobbly, invisible, and complained a lot.

The attic was a nest of boxes. Every piece of cardboard was labeled, some in writing that Remus didn’t recognize. Old photos. Old jewelry. Old spiderwebs. The stuff in front, Remus knew. Holiday stuff, and extra silverware, and Mom’s favorite Passover sweater. Beyond that, though, was a sea of boxes that hadn’t been touched in years. Remus had explored a few of them, and he’d seen all kinds of old stuff, the kind that was probably worth a lot online. Maybe Mom and Dad should sell it. Roman might get upset, though--Roman didn’t like it when stuff got lost.

Remus cleared a space in the center of the attic and unfolded a piece of paper. He handed Roman a pencil. Roman dropped it by accident. Remus gave Roman another pencil.

“Okay, so we’re gonna draw a square like this.” Remus drew a square as neatly as he could. “And then we add the windows and the doors, and then all the stuff inside the room, and we can label it so we know what’s what!”

Roman nodded. “Can I add sparkles?”

“There aren’t any sparkles in the room.”

“There should be.”

“Add sparkles or whatever.” Remus grinned. “I’m gonna add poop. And lots of spooky ghosts with big pointy teeth.”

“Except I’m saving you from them,” Roman corrected, “since I’m the knight! They’re no match for me.”

“No, they’re my friends too!” Remus waved his hands. “They’re my army! I’ve got a ghost army and they give me cookies and think I’m cool.”

Roman pouted. “I already do that!”

“You’re a dork.”

“Am not!”

Remus snickered and started drawing some of the boxes. Roman doodled around the edges, crossed out some of Remus’ lines, and wrote labels in shaky handwriting. Remus made the room too small on the page, so there was lots of room for extra drawings around the edges. Remus drew three frogs, five rats, and seven ghosts with pointy teeth and blood in their eyeballs. And an octopus, but it didn’t look right.

When they’d managed to fill the whole paper, Remus checked the map against the room. All the boxes were there, plus the one small window at the other end, between slopes of wood. It was still raining. Remus couldn’t move without the floor creaking, and he could barely stand up all the way.

“Where next?” Remus asked, rolling up the map.

“Downstairs,” Roman said, “one room at a time.”

The first bedroom. Most of the bedrooms on the top floors were empty, and the dust made Roman look smudged. This bedroom had a small raggedy doll in one corner and a faded pink bed. When Remus kicked the carpet, it came apart at the edge. The windows overlooked the backyard, which sloped past the gardens and shed before hitting the woods with a crunch. They labeled the map ‘Bedroom’ and Roman drew flowers in the margins. One of the pencils rolled under the pink bed and Remus almost bumped his head trying to get it back.

The first bathroom. It didn’t have a sink anymore, and the toilet was still clogged from the time Remus tried to flush lasagna down it. The whole place smelled like lasagna. Maybe Remus should tell Dad about it, but that’d mean getting in trouble, so he plugged his nose and drew a map. Since there wasn’t much floor, and the tiles looked like barf, Remus put the map against the mirror. The mirror had a long crack in it that made his lines go skewed. He labeled it ‘Lasagna Bathroom.’ Roman drew stink waves coming from the toilet.

Another bedroom. The bed used to have a canopy, but the fabric was gone, leaving a little roof of wood. Remus tried to climb it. He almost got to the top until Roman yanked him back down. Party pooper. Old coats were in the closets, and the drawers were lined with lace. When Remus tried to open the window, the rust yelled. Remus labeled it ‘Canopy Bedroom’ and Roman told him that he spelled canopy wrong. Remus chucked a pen through Roman’s forehead.

Office. Probably where someone did their homework. Remus sat in the chair and kicked at the legs, and Roman ruffled the papers until they flew all over the desk. There wasn’t any ink, or any quill pens, which would have been cool. Remus liked this room because of the clock in the corner. It was broken. Roman said the hands showed the time as two-thirty. Remus wondered what happened at two-thirty. The desk made the map easy to draw on. ‘Clock Room.’ Doodles of dragons in the margins, because Roman got distracted.

They skidded down the stairs and hopped into Remus’ own bedroom. Remus had fought tooth and nail for a bedroom on the third floor, ‘cause he didn’t want Mom and Dad hearing when he brought cool stuff into the room. That map was easy to make. Then was the nursery next door, where babies were probably made, and then the other bathroom. This one didn’t smell like lasagna, which made it better, but the bathtub was yellow, which made it worse. The final room was stripped of furniture. It made for a quick map.

The maps were piling up now. Remus kept them in one tube of paper under his arm. Roman had managed to lose half their pencils. When they scrambled into Mom and Dad’s room, Remus began to poke at the closet before realizing Dad was already there. He dragged Roman back out and proceeded to make up the rest of the map. Roman said it would ruin the accuracy. Remus said that they didn’t need to go in that room anyway, and that if they wanted to finish the maps before dinner, they’d have to hurry.

“How much different is it?” Remus asked in the second bedroom, trying on an old bathrobe. It made him feel like a duke. Maybe he would cut it up and put it in his outfit later. “What’s new about the house?”

“The furniture you brought,” Roman said, drifting above the wardrobe with a pencil in hand. “And bits of the third floor have been changed, because of water damage, I think? They added electricity, and all the bathrooms used to be closets.”

“What? Really?” Remus didn’t know that. “Where were the bathrooms, then?”

“Outside!” Roman laughed at Remus’ face. “In the outhouses, obviously.”

“You pooped in the forest?”

“Not on the forest floor.”

“You pooped in forest toilets?”

“No!” Roman laughed harder. “We didn’t have toilets! We’d poop in a hole!”

“Ew!” Remus said gleefully. “Ugh, I wish I was alive back then, I wanna poop in a hole.”

“You really don’t,” Roman said.

Remus still drew poop-holes on the edge of the map. Roman stuck out his tongue and called him “Revolting.”

“Is it weird?” Remus asked as they mapped out the living room. Big green couch, several lamps, Dad’s recliner, pile of junk on the table. “To have no poop-holes? Or no doors?”

“I don’t always notice,” Roman said. “I can just walk through walls where the doors used to be, and I don’t need to poop. But--yeah, it’s strange.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt. Clouds came away in his fingers. “I suppose everything’s changed a lot since I--got eaten by an alligator.”

“Alligator?” Remus asked.

“It’s a painful tale.” Roman dramatically screwed up his face. “I can hardly bear to recall.”

“Oki-dokey artichoke-y,” Remus said. “And yeah, things have probably changed all over the place. I’m gonna go to fourth grade, but it’ll be nothing like your fourth grade. We’ll learn different things.”

“I suppose so.” Roman doodled small circles in the margins of the map, circles and circles, like a million tornadoes stuck together. “You’ll have to tell me what it’s like.”

“Or you could come and see?”

The circles grew closer together. Tornadoes circling the map. Remus wondered what a tornado would feel like. Didn’t they just pick stuff up and drop it again? Would it be like getting picked up by Roman--tingling and stomach-dropping, everything in limbo?

“It’s really not so bad,” Remus said, falling into his old job of convincing Roman to do stuff. Usually, it was easy. Roman liked having things to do, even illegal ones. “Sometimes the teachers give us candy for the right answer. If you poke an eraser with a pencil, it gets little gray holes.”

Roman looked about to make little gray holes in the paper. Remus tugged the map away from him before he could ruin it.

“I’m just saying,” Remus said. “You could possess me or whatever, or you could just float around and hang out. It’d be fun!”

“I can’t leave the house,” Roman said firmly.

“Who says you can’t?”

“Me.”

“Then say you can!”

“I’m not going to.” Roman tossed the pencil at the map. “You should erase the couch. It’s on the wrong side.”

Remus scribbled out the couch and put it in the right place, but now all the other bits of furniture were wrong. “Friends go to school with each other.”

“Human friends do.” Roman was flashing red all over now, and Remus didn’t know whether he was upset or angry or just in the mood for red. “Thought you liked ghost ones better.”

Remus was pretty sure that meant ‘I thought you liked me better.’

And he did. He liked Roman way better. But--there were perks about human friends. Parents didn’t make fun of them behind their backs. They were easier to shove when they were being jerks. And they didn’t go missing so easily. It was harder to lose a person, because they were all flesh and blood and heartbeat. Ghosts were easier to lose. They were just sky with eyes and a nose. Just air.

Playing hide-and-seek was fun, but only when it was a game they agreed on. Only when everyone knew the rules. Only when Remus could give up and Roman would float out of a closet with a pie-eating grin. Hide-and-seek wasn’t fun if someone just kept hiding. It wasn’t fun if someone had to get left behind.

Ghosts were better than people. So far, ghosts had been nicer, and cooler, and better at drawing. So far, ghosts had stuck around.

But ghosts couldn’t go to school. Ghosts couldn’t go shopping. Ghosts couldn’t eat potato chips or a latke or a really good cookie. Ghosts disappeared and Remus had to go find them. Ghosts needed maps or they’d get lost in their own house.

Remus liked Roman. That made things hard sometimes.

Circles and circles, a tornado all around the living room. They were almost done with the maps, unless they wanted to map out the yard as well, and it was raining too hard for that. Plus, Roman never left the house.

Remus stared at the maps. Maybe Roman was worried he’d get lost.

Maybe a map would help with that.

“We’ve just got a few rooms left,” Remus said. “And then we’ve got the shed, and then we’re done!”

“Great!” Roman looked happy at the change of topic. “Do we really need the shed, though? It’s not inside the house.”

“It’s still a building.” Remus gathered up the map and led the way to the dining room. “We can go outside and sketch the shed, just to get all the maps we need.”

Roman looked outside. “The weather’s bad. You’ll need your rain boots.”

“What’s the fun if you can’t splash in the puddles?” Remus set a new page of the map on the dining room table. Roman began to draw food around the edges. “And once we’ve gone to the shed and back, we could make this into a huge book, if we wanted. Color the pages and everything.”

Roman hummed, occupied with shading the edge of a blueberry. Remus checked the window. The rain actually seemed to be stopping. Definitely a good sign!

The dining room drawing was quick. After the entrance hall, the closet, the back room, and the kitchen--which they drew from memory, to avoid Mom--the maps were almost complete. A dozen pages of color and line, a true masterpiece, with several bad words written very small under the doodles. Remus tried to high-five Roman. For obvious reasons, the high-five did not work.

“Just the shed now!” Remus tucked the roll of maps under his arm and bounced to the back door. “Okay--raincoat, boots, umbrella? No room--”

“It isn’t raining so much,” Roman said. “Still, be careful, there could be lightning.”

“Nah, we’ll be okay, just in and out!” Remus tugged on his rain boots. They had little ducks on them. “And ghosts can’t get hit by lightning anyway.”

“You can.”

“I’m not a coward.” Remus pulled his raincoat over his shoulders. It felt like wax. When the back door opened, rain dripped from the doorway and dampened the mat. “Oh, those are some wicked puddles! Maybe I can go puddle-stomping later.”

“Don’t get the maps wet.” Roman motioned to the doorway. “Go ahead.”

Remus stepped through the doorway. A small path led past the boring plant garden, through the less-boring flower garden, and down the slopes of grass. The shed was nestled by the edge of the woods. It had a tin roof, and Remus could already hear the ping-ping of raindrops on it.

“Come on,” Remus said, wiping droplets from his hair. The rain was manageable enough. The grass squelched under his boots. “Ro?”

Roman looked confused. “I’m not coming.”

“You’re not?” Remus’ face fell. “Why not?”

“It’s outside of the house?” Roman sounded like he didn’t get it. “I don’t go outside the house.”

“It’s barely outside,” Remus said. “It’s, like, still in the yard.”

Roman moved away from the door.

“Come on.” Remus didn’t want to beg like a baby, but Roman needed to get out here, he needed to go outside. “I can’t do the map without you. You need to draw on it!”

“I can doodle when you get back!”

“No!” Remus yelled. “No, that’s not the right order!”

“Well, I’m not going!” Roman yelled back at him. “Leave me alone, Remus!”

Remus screwed up his face. “You’re being stupid! It’s just a stupid yard. I’ll be with you the whole fricking time. What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t leave the house!”

“Why can’t you?” Remus almost screamed. “If you want me to get it, actually tell me what you know! Stop being so vague and tell me stuff!”

Roman looked about to cry. Could ghosts cry? Did Remus want to find out? “I said, leave me alone!”

“Fine!” Remus turned on his heel. “Fine, I’ll do the rest of the stupid map on my own. I’ll go to school on my own and leave you here to sulk, just like you want. Have fun. See if I care.”

Roman might have said something. Remus decided not to hear it.

The yard was muddy. In a better mood, Remus would have smeared some mud over his face. Instead he just kicked at it. Kick, kick, kick, all the way past the stupid plants and the still-stupid flowers. All the way down the stupid grass to the stupid shed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was cold outside. Remus felt cold in his rain coat, and wet, even though his skin was dry. The maps crinkled under his arm. The sky boiled with dark clouds. When he glanced back, Roman was still standing in the door, a flash of white and red against the coats and the darkness. Remus stuck his tongue out. Stupid ghost. He wished he couldn’t see Roman, like everyone else.

Remus didn’t waste time making the shed map look nice. No point, if Roman was never gonna use it. ‘Shed.’ No doodles. A wonky square with some sticks for the garden tools and some circles for the sacks of hay. It all looked stupid. It wasn’t a good map. Didn’t matter, though, ‘cause Roman never went anywhere.

The shed was cold and empty. It was dark, too, lit only by a lightbulb. The rain ping-ping-pinged at the roof. The wood shivered. Remus’ face felt very red and very hot. Count to ten, Mom always said when he got mad. One. Two. Three. Four. And he knew the rest.

Maybe he’d learn more numbers in fourth grade. Third grade had been up to a hundred or two hundred. Maybe they’d make it even further. There were infinite numbers, right? They’d never run out of numbers. They’d just run out of time.

Fourth grade was gonna be no fun if Roman wasn’t there.

Remus rolled up the map and stuck it under his arm. When he opened the shed door, the wind rustled the edges of the papers. His fingers felt cold and wet, like bits of popsicle. The house teetered on the hill. He could see all the windows, all the rooms they’d went to--the bedrooms, the bathroom with lasagna in the toilet, the stairs, the living room. Remus’ own bedroom. It all kind of made sense when he looked at it from the outside. It was like a tier cake. Room on top of room.

It looked like a haunted house, with the trees around it black and shadowy, waving in the wind. With birds flying across the wild grey sky. It was a haunted house. Roman was still there, a smudge of white, and Remus wondered why he got to see him. Why they stayed the same height and looked the same age. Why Roman had gotten stuck here in the first place, with no one to keep him company.

If Remus died, he’d want to see the world. He would never want to stay just where he’d started. What was the point of being a ghost if you didn’t do anything new?

Maybe he should ask Roman that. Maybe this time it’d work.

Remus climbed up the hill towards the house.

The wind picked up, blowing at his back. He adjusted the map and kept moving. It took all his strength to keep his boots from sticking in the mud, and all his self-control not to face-plant into the mud. The trees blew behind him, and when he looked back, he saw he’d left the shed light on. It glowed yellow next to the woods. It made him feel even colder.

Rain was starting to fall again. It was going to storm again. Of course it was. Remus was going to have a rainy, wet, no-good last day of summer. Stuck inside the house. It couldn’t be good for him.

It couldn’t be good for either of them.

But here they were.

“Hi,” was all that Roman said when Remus reached the doorway.

“Got the map.” Remus’ nose was starting to run. “It’s cold out there.”

“Close the door.” Roman poked curiously at the papers, avoiding Remus’ eyes. “Can I see it?”

Remus handed Roman the stack of maps. Roman leafed through them, pausing at the shed one, then skimmed the rest. The rain began to pick up outside. Water dripped from Remus’ boots onto the floor.

“Where’s the bedroom?” Roman asked.

“What?”

“I can’t find the map of our bedroom.” Roman looked confused. “Did you leave it in the house somewhere?”

Remus felt cold again. “I--I don’t think so.”

Roman looked past him. Remus turned around to see rain beginning to fall on the grass, and a long trampled walk back to the shed.

“I dropped it,” Remus realized. “Oh no, I dropped it--it’s gonna get all wet!”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, sounding like he didn’t know whether it actually was. “You know the way around your bedroom.”

“You bumped into the wall,” Remus said. He scanned the grass for any sign of the map. Nothing was there. It could have fallen into mud, or gotten crumpled, or blown away in the wind. “We need that! And I just lost it! I gotta get it back, Ro--”

“We’ll make another one.” Roman looked sympathetic. “It’s okay--”

“We don’t have time to make another one!” Humiliatingly, Remus felt his eyes burn. “‘Cause we’re eating dinner soon, and then I gotta go tomorrow for shopping, and then I’ve got school! And you gotta have the map by then, so you don’t get lost when I’m gone!”

Roman flickered red. “What?”

“I gotta get it.” Remus shoved the rest of the maps towards Roman. They fell through him and hit the floor. “If you’d been there, I wouldn’t have dropped them.”

Roman looked hurt. “You might have anyway.”

“Yeah, I might have anyway, shut your hole. No one cares.” Remus made a frustrated noise. “Fine, it’s all my fault and I got the map ruined. Shut up. I gotta go get it.”

Before Roman could argue, Remus stepped into the rain. It was coming down faster now. The map would probably be halfway ruined already. If he could find it, though, he’d be able to dry it. And Roman would know where the door was.

But he’d lost the map. It was lost somewhere in the backyard, stuck somewhere between grey skies and grey grass and grey rain. Remus couldn’t see it. He squinted and he cupped his eyes and he blinked the water from his eyelashes, but he couldn’t see it. There wasn’t a single flash of white.

A rumble of thunder in the distance.

“Get back inside,” Roman called. “This is dangerous.”

“I can’t find it!” Remus yelled back. He sounded panicked. Was he panicking? “I can’t find it, Ro, I need to find it--I don’t wanna leave it here--”

Another rumble of thunder. Remus was cold. He didn’t even want to walk deeper into the yard. The woods were dark and the shed was flickering and he felt frozen in his boots. His skin tingled. His breath froze.

And then the world deepened.

Two sides to everything. Like he’d grown extra eyes. It always felt like this--like a video with more pixels, or cooler colors, or binoculars attached. He could never pinpoint what he could see. He just knew it was--more than usual.

The world was a riot of color and darkness, swirling like a tornado, and Remus laughed.

“Thanks,” he said as he took a step forward.

Or tried to. “Don’t,” he hissed back at himself in Roman’s voice. “I am not going to try walking again. We’re just looking right now. Look around.”

Remus looked.

Hide-and-seek. If he was a map, where would he hide?

Color. Darkness and scribbles and circles going around, but that was all in the margins, that didn’t matter. Thunder rumbled. He didn’t jump. The rain seemed to go right through him.

White.

A piece of white, like a flag, stuck in the boring plant garden.

Remus whooped. Or maybe it was Roman who did. Who knew?

“Can I walk now?” he asked, and Roman groaned in response. Remus’ boots loosened. He ran through the rain and grabbed the map with one hand, swiping at it with a wet hand, until he realized that did no good. The colors were running. He tucked it into his raincoat, and the raincoat smeared across his hand as well, the paper leaking white and red.

Too much. Way too much. Maybe there’d been a reason that Roman didn’t want to do this. Everything was double, switching and colliding, holes opening and spinning dizzily in the air.

“It’s okay,” Roman said with Remus’ mouth. “Close your eyes, I’ll find our way back.”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut.

And Roman guided them back to the door.

When the rain stopped, so did the dizziness. Remus almost fell against the wall. Roman collapsed against the opposite one, running his hands through his hair and pulling at his sleeves. The door slammed shut. Maybe that was Roman, or maybe it was the wind that began to howl at the house. A bad storm. They’d been lucky to avoid it.

“Is the map okay?” Remus opened his eyes and peeled the paper away from his raincoat. “Oh frick, it’s all smeared.”

“It looks fine to me.” Roman drifted over and traced the edges. “All my doodles are dry, and I can see where everything is.”

Remus blinked the water out of his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, so can I.”

“Good job,” Roman said, and Remus looked over at him. “It’s a nice part of a nice map.”

“Thanks,” Remus said awkwardly. People didn’t give him compliments very much. Maybe that was a ghost thing. “You did good with the art.”

Roman beamed at him. Red and white, a warm blanket around his shoulders.

“And--uh--” Remus motioned to the door. “You went--”

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” Roman said simply. “And I wanted to help you find it.”

Remus found himself smiling. “So you can go outside.”

“I can.”

“Why don’t you?”

Roman ruffled the edge of the map. It was already drying. “Because there aren’t good maps like this one, so I’m not sure if I could find my way back.”

“You made it back without a map today.” Remus kicked off his rain boots and shrugged off his coat. “Plus, if you went to school, I’d be there. I’d make sure you got back alright.”

Roman chewed his lip.

“It’d be okay,” Remus said. “You’d see me the whole time. And--you wouldn’t have to be alone in this house all year. You spend too much time in it already.”

Roman laughed a bit. “I don’t mind. You’re there.”

“I’m not gonna be.” Remus rubbed his arms, and the chill began to fade. “It’s the house or me, bro. And I’m pretty sure you like me better.”

Roman’s smile was smaller now, but still just as bright.

“I could make you a map,” Remus finally offered. “Of the way to school and back. Just in case?”

“I’d like that.” Roman paused. “I...it might be a while before I decide to go that far from the house. You might have to torment your teachers on your own.”

“Oh, I’m great at that.” Remus led Roman into the living room. He could already smell dinner. Mom waved, and he waved back, and Roman waved, too. Mom couldn’t see him, but Roman was polite like that. Maybe she’d even wave back at Roman one day, if they were lucky. “And--yeah, take your time. We’ve got a lot of it.”

“True.” Roman drifted along, a few feet above ground. He glowed like lightning, and red flickered in time with the thunder, impossible not to see. “I’ll find what works, okay?”

“Okay!” Remus spread the maps on the table. The lines glistened--a tornado of doodles and a house of scribbles. Maybe not much of a map. But it was fun to make, and helpful to find, and a good haunted map for a haunted house. “Are you gonna stick around to staple these together?”

“Of course,” Roman said, pencil already in hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Remus smiled. “Neither am I.”

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegenderqueermess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

@enby-ralsei

@remy-the-lemon-berry

@drarrymalecsolangelo

@riptide-123

@fander-fic-recs

@multi-fandoms-posts

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@kieraelieson @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @somehow-i-got-an-account @10moonymhrivertam @evoodo123 @idont-freaking-know @enby-phoenix @a-fandom-trashdump

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #ghost au #creativitwins #sanders sides fic #averywrites #yeahh this got really long again and i don't know how #i swear it was just going to be today's warmup fic #anyway here kid!side content i have homework and i must go

176 notes · View notes

mrs-hilmarson · 3 years

Text

Run To Me (Part 4)

Pairing: Diane Sherman x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

TW: Brief mention of vomiting. I don’t want anyone getting triggered, so I would rather be overly cautious!

A/N: If you would like to be on a tag list for this fic, please add a comment below or shoot me a message! Excited about the next chapter, things are coming. Again thank you for the love. I am having so much fun writing this and it means even more when you have people who enjoy reading it!

Even though it had been four whole days since the accident, you were not feeling better. Diane had said that the day after was supposed to be the worst, but it seemed like you felt weaker each day. Diane was keeping a close eye on you though, making sure you weren't running a fever and that the road rash and cuts weren't getting worse. She said if you got any weaker, she would bring you to the local urgent care to make sure something serious wasn't going on.

Though you weren't feeling well, you enjoyed the days spent with Diane in the quiet little house, just the two of you. You had learned a lot about each other in the past few days, developing a routine with one another that always ended the day with a cup of that nasty ass tea, but deep and sweet conversation.

You hadn't gone into too much detail about your past quite yet, about your mother or father or what it was like in the foster home. You shared mainly surface level things and funny memories that were light hearted. You knew the heavier stuff would be discussed eventually. Although you were choosing to keep the painful memories of your past to yourself for the time being, Diane had opened to you almost immediately.

You found out she didn't have parents either, her mother dying when she was a child and she was married when she was very young, to an abusive husband that left her for another woman only a year and a half into the marriage. Soon after she found out she was pregnant and she decided to not reach out to her ex-husband and to just raise the baby on her own. Unfortunately she developed high blood pressure and delivered the baby too soon, and she died in Diane's arms before she even had time to discuss options. Her name was Chloe and Diane chose to live a quiet life after that. She moved to Washington only a few years ago and put herself into teaching, science, and her garden. She always wanted a child, but she was just never able have one again.

When she told you that, your heart broke for her. Of course she was so willing to take you home with her. She was lonely! She had promised to take care of you, but you knew as soon as you were back on your feet, you were going to try and care for her too. In whatever way she would let you. You weren't Chloe, and you could never be Chloe, but you could love her with all your heart.

It had been another rough day, as you had suddenly developed a bad headache and had felt queasy for most of it. You didn't really eat much of your dinner, pushing it around your plate. You didn't want to tell Diane you had vomited up breakfast. If she knew you were barely keeping things down, she may get worried.

Diane cleared the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. She noticed you didn't eat more than a few bites. She didn't say anything but turned to you and smiled.

"How about you go ahead and sit on the couch? I'll be there in just a minute," she said quietly. Her voice had seemed to grow more gentle towards you each day.

You smiled wearily and went to the living room, lazily sitting down on the couch. It could have only been a few minutes, but you somehow managed to fall asleep. You were constantly tired and wanting to nap. Diane said it was a good sign because it meant your body was trying to heal itself.

You were woken up by the couch dipping under Diane's weight. You opened your eyes and saw her smiling at you, holding a bowl of something brown. It smelled sweet and you looked at her suspiciously.

"What's that? No tea tonight?" you asked, hopeful.

Diane chuckled and pulled out two spoons, sticking it into the bowl.

"No, no tea tonight. I don't want you to get too much of those herbs and vitamins. And this, it's brownie batter. Me and my friends as teenagers would make a bowl of it and eat it as we talked about boys and school and our dreams," she said, picking up a spoon and licking off the chocolate from it.

You couldn't help but smile as you took a spoon and licked at it cautiously. You had never had the stuff and it was intoxicating. You shoved the whole spoon in your mouth, ready to inhale the entire bowl.

Diane laughed and pulled the bowl towards her.

"Alright, alright speedy... don't eat it too fast. You'll get sick."

You forced yourself to go slower, but the moment Diane turned around you would be sure to put as much of it in your mouth that would fit. This was worth getting sick over. Diane stared at you, drinking up the image of you enjoying the treat she had brought.

"You know," Diane hummed, "I always thought I'd do this one day with my daughter. Make it a tradition and she'd tell me her secrets and we would be best friends."

You're heart ached in your chest. You knew she meant Chloe and you knew she would rather her be on the couch than you. Suddenly the batter didn't taste as sweet. You put the spoon into the bowl and left it there. You looked up at Diane and saw she was almost beaming at you though.

"I'm glad I get to do it with you," she said, picking up the spoon with her other hand and letting you eat off it.

You felt really confused, but happy at the same time. You knew you weren't her daughter, but sometimes the way she said things or looked at you, it was like she wanted you to be. As if that's how she saw you. You weren't sure if you saw her as a mother though, you didn't really know what that felt like. It was complex for you.

"So, Y/n, tell me. What did you do with your friends? Did you have any special traditions with the girls?" Diane asked, eating another spoon of the batter, it dripping onto her lips.

It broke you from your anxious thoughts and had you now thinking about your past. It wasn't that much better but at least it would keep you talking.

"Well, I really wasn't in one place long enough to make any traditions with my friends. But me and my foster sister, the one who lives in town, we would go and sneak out of our group home and head to the woods behind it. The woods had fireflies in them and we would go see the 'light shows' and talk about a bunch of different things. What our families could have been like, what we were going to do when we aged out, the issues we had at the home."

You remembered those nights fondly, some of the few good memories you had growing up. You wondered if there were any woods in the area and if they had fireflies. Maybe you could go and see a 'light show' for old times sake. You would ask your sister when you saw her. But you needed to call her first.

"Uh Diane, could I possibly use your phone?"

Diane suddenly stiffened, the spoon thudding back into the batter. Her face seemed to harden just for a moment before quickly returning to the warm look she often gave you. It took her a moment to respond, making the air between you thick for some reason.

"Sure. Are you okay?" she said, her voice sounding concerned.

She seemed like she was worried and you wondered if she thought she had upset you.

"Oh yeah! I'm fine. I just actually wanted to call my sister and let her know I made it here and that I'm safe and see when she wanted to meet up," you said in a confident tone, hoping to ease her mind.

Her face seemed to twitch and she swallowed hard, clearing her throat. She smiled at you though and you just shrugged off her strange reaction. She pointed to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. Diane had phones with chords still in her house, which you found charming, but also a little inconvenient that you couldn't step outside.

"You're welcome to call your foster sister," she said, saying the word 'foster' strangely, "I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed to give you some privacy."

She smiled at you and brushed your hair behind your ear before getting up and heading to her room. You waited until you could no longer hear her footsteps before leaning over the brownie bowl and quickly stuffing your mouth with as much batter as you could. As soon as you swallowed it all, you realized you may have made a mistake, but you could regret it later.

You walked over to the phone and pressed the buttons to the number you had memorized by heart. You felt nervous suddenly even though nothing had changed and you had just talked to her a week ago. Your heart race increased with each ringer, anxious to hear her voice.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice on the other side of the phone croaked.

"Mandy? Mandy, its Y/n."

There was some rustling on the other side of the line and you were pretty sure you had woken Mandy up, but you knew she wouldn't mind.

"Hey! I was wondering when I would hear from you. I was a little worried. You were supposed to call me like two days ago," she yawned.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I had a little set back. But I'm here in town and I'm staying with a woman I met-"

Mandy cut you off with a very obnoxious "Ooooohhhhhh!"

"Shut up. It's not like that. She's just a really good friend that I was lucky enough to meet. Now before you say anything else stupid, when and where do you want to meet?"

Mandy chuckled on the other end. She knew you hated being picked on and anytime she sensed even the possibility of making you uncomfortable, she had to crack a joke.

"Well, I have class tomorrow, but I am free after lunch. There is a nice little coffee shop book store on Howard. You can meet me there at like 2PM. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. I can't wait. I've missed you so much Mandy," you said, tears prickling at your eyes.

"I've missed you too lighting bug. So tell me, who is this lady you are-"

Suddenly Mandy's voice cut off. You pulled the phone away from your ear, not even hearing a dial tone. You messed with the phone for a moment before realizing the line was dead.

"Diane?" you called out, sticking your head around the corner.

Diane was right there, breathing heavy as if she had been running. She startled you and you stared at her, mindlessly passing the phone to her.

"Your phone line went dead," you mumbled.

Diane put the phone to her ear and pressed a few buttons before hanging up.

"I'll call the phone company in the morning. Sometimes someone hits a line and the whole thing goes dead. Were you able to call your friend though?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

You noticed she said friend this time, but you brushed it off. She didn't know the bond you and Mandy shared.

"Yes! I did. I'm going to meet her tomorrow for lunch."

Diane didn't hid her discomfort this time.

"Y/n, I don't think that's a good idea. You're still very weak. You didn't even eat dinner. I don't think you should go out by yourself. Maybe I should go with-"

"No. It's okay. I'll be fine for a couple of hours. I won't be running a marathon, just having a coffee with my sister."

You wanted to spend time with Mandy by yourself and while you appreciated the thought of Diane going with you, you were still an adult no matter how young you looked. It didn't help that at the moment the brownie batter was now fighting against you and you were hunched over slightly.

"Well maybe consider letting me drive you to town? I need to run some errands anyway so I can drive you and that way if you feel like you need to lay down or rest I wouldn't be far."

You would need a ride to town, but you just weren't sure.

"Let me sleep on it. I hate to think I would be using you just for a ride. And-" before you could finish, you start having a coughing fit. Coughing was nothing new to you thanks to the asthma, but this wasn't that. This was the batter.

You tried to keep it down, but it was too late. You threw up, all over yourself, all over the floor, and even on Diane's slippers. You expelled everything you had eaten that day and more and it took a moment before you stopped gagging, laying in a ball on the floor.

Suddenly fear over took you as you saw yourself and the floor covered in vomit. You know your mom would be so mad when she saw it and you would get punished. You didn't want to be punished. You began to cry and you scooted away until your body hit the wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to," you cried. You forgot where you were and suddenly you were back at home. You didn't like going back.

Diane quickly ran over to you, not phased by the vomit and held you in her arms. You fought her off at first but she shooshed you and smoothed your hair, holding you close to her. She knew a flashback when she saw one. She held you and whispered in your ear. It took a moment but eventually you came back to present day. You still felt sick, you now smelled awful, your head hurt, and you were embarrassed. For the first time since you had met Diane, you felt tears prickle you eyes and instead of hiding them, you let them flow.

You cried in Diane's arms as she rocked you back in forth, and you apologized over and over again. You weren't sure if you were saying sorry because you had thrown up on her or if it was because she lost her daughter or because you were the mess of a person she felt fate brought her. She kissed your head and took your face in her hands. She wiped your tears with the pads of her thumb and looked at you with tears in her eyes too.

"Hey. It's okay. Stop apologizing. You're safe now Y/n."

She pulled you back to her chest again and wrapped her arms around you tight as if she would never let you go.

"I've got you," she whispered, over and over.

"I've got you, and I'm not letting go."

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fic #sarah paulson #diane sherman #diane sherman x reader #run film

138 notes · View notes