#thing is my memory is terrible especially right before I sleep so I just forgot I had drawn this

[moxymaxing]

Speedran drawing this at 11pm and immediately passed out afterward

#thing is my memory is terrible especially right before I sleep so I just forgot I had drawn this #until I opened procreate today #and because it’s pride month I’m posting twice in one day yippeeee #also please forgive the bad quality it’s the 11pm mind #william wisp #william wisp fanart #david bell #david bell fanart #jrwi pd #ghostkicks #(?) kinda #pd spoilers #mart

[dreamlessinparis]

Come Back to Me

mob!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t expect you have such an impact on his life and it scares him.

Word Count: 2848

Warnings:  Angst, implied smut(nothing too graphic), mention of blood, fluff

A/N I wrote this for @sweetlyscared ​ ‘s 1k followers challenge. 💕Congrats on that and I hope you have many more to come!  My bleeding heart couldn’t stay away from this challenge. Writing angst might not be my strong suit but I tried. The prompts I used are bolded

~~

Bucky Barnes destroyed everything he touched except you. You were his beautiful flower, so beautiful you made everything in his life better. You were his lifeline, his reason to breathe, the reason his damaged heart still beat and still he let you go. Let you slip through his fingers like sand. Made you leave before he tarnished your soul, the way his was. Bucky Barnes was not a good man, he killed without question and was blindly ruthless, the only good thing he did was set you free, even if it meant leaving a void where his heart was. 

Bucky paces through his cold empty office, remembering the warmth you brought to his life. The room progressively darkens along with his mood, as if the weather can sense his unhappiness and the storm clouds break open in a sudden burst. Bucky laughs humorlessly to the fact that the universe was reflecting the shit show that was his life. His glance shifts to the window, where the rain is falling down on the remains of the once beautiful garden, now feral and unkempt in the year without your presence. His mind wanders back to you, his happy place, as the storm rages outside. 

You never should have been in his life, but fate had a cruel humor and so did Bucky's best friend Steve when he hired you to be Bucky's assistant. A girl like you, sweet as the smell of honeysuckle in the spring, being the assistant of a mob boss, it was a disaster waiting to happen. But you didn't see it that way. From that first day you walked into his office, your long hair pulled back, wearing a white sundress with little flowers on it, he could have sworn you were an angel. You had a smile that lit up the whole room and your eyes didn’t look at him like he was a monster. Obviously you knew who he was but chose to make your own decisions about him. 

Everybody on his crew loved you, the guards, the servants, Steve and especially Bucky. It was hard not to. Bucky begins to think back to the times he caught you dancing in the hall of paintings, headphones in your ears. The one time you noticed his presence, you immediately began to sputter out apologies until you saw the wide smile on his beautiful face. You had never seen him smile before and it made your heart swell. So you did the unthinkable, grabbing his hand and putting a headphone in his ear. To your disbelief, he pulled you close and the two of you slow-danced to a song that clearly wasn't meant to be a slow dance but neither of you cared. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you swayed in his arms. 

After that incident, Bucky kept his distance, you made him vulnerable and in his world vulnerable meant weak. He could tell it hurt your feelings, no matter how well you tried to hide it. You kept up a professional front but your eyes gave you away. To Bucky you were an open book.

 Despite his wariness to let you in, he never stopped watching you. Whether you were in the garden, tending to the flowers in your free time, or laughing with Steve about something, Bucky always had an eye on you. Without his permission you wormed your way into his heart and made a home.

It was during one of Tony’s gala’s where Bucky learned what true jealousy was. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he saw you walk in that red dress, seductively clinging to your curves, hair gathered at the nape of your neck. He didn’t know where to look, the slender curve of your neck or the peek of your leg from your, in his opinion, too high slit or anywhere in between. His eyes settled on your beautiful face, watching as you approached him. 

“You look stunning, y/n,” Bucky leaned in to whisper in your ear, a scarlet blush rising up your neck at his words. You awkwardly thanked him, looking away quickly. His husky chuckle made the hairs on your neck rise and that was when you knew you were falling for him. You had been for a long time but now you were sure. He was a man of terrible deeds, but there was good in him. Under his tough exterior, you had chipped away enough to see a peek of his heart of gold. The heart he thought was blackened by everything he’d done. 

Suddenly Thor approached the two of you and before Bucky could utter another word, you were whisked away to the dance floor. He watched in disbelief and pure rage as his girl was being waltzed around by the golden haired oaf. A hand on his shoulder was enough to throw him over the edge, and he turned to attack whoever touched him, only to realize it was Steve. Steve arched an eyebrow at him and Bucky relaxed, reigning in his anger as much as he could, not knowing what came over him. But Steve knew, he had known since day one. 

From that night forward, the two of you ignored the elephant in the room, tiptoeing around each other’s feelings. Sometimes when you were standing in the garden, looking out, you felt him come up behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. You could feel his nose skim your hair, inhaling your scent, eye fluttering shut in hopes he would touch you. But he never did and he always disappeared before you could react. You yearned for him in ways you had never yearned before.

It was a night in August that changed everything. Bucky was in his office, reading over a file that Steve had brought to him, when he heard the thunder clap. He looked up to see the skies open up, rain beginning to fall in thick wet drops. Just as he was about to return to his work, he saw you run out into the garden. The rain quickened by the second all around you as you twirled in a circle, head back, a huge smile on your face. Bucky couldn’t control himself as he left his office, heading to the back door. Nothing else mattered to him, except the gorgeous girl dancing in the rain like a woodland fairy. 

For a moment he forgot who he was, where he was and how his next action would play out. His hands wound around your waist, startling you, your hair clinging to your skin as you met his gaze. Without any care in the world Bucky pressed his lips to yours, hands coming up to hold your face, holding you delicately like you would break in his hands. He wanted to mold himself around you, and never let you go. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, feverishly matching his kiss with the same passion. One of his hands slid to the back of your head as the other one found its way to rest on your lower back, pressing you into him. He pulled away, grabbing your hand and tugging you into the gazebo, the heated look in his eyes made you shiver in anticipation.

The rest was a blur, a mix of messy kisses and roaming hands, as you explored one another. Soaked pieces of clothing were scattered about haphazardly, neither of your hands wanting to leave the other's skin for too long. The rain pattered on the roof of the gazebo, drowning out your moans as you rode Bucky, head thrown back in a different kind of pleasure. He gave over control, just like he gave over his heart, hands digging into your hips almost painfully. Your hands dug into the strong muscles of his chest and a broken groan had you melting further into him. A cacophony of emotions swirled in the air around you as you both reached your climax and you knew this was a point of no return. 

Bucky’s hand hit the glass window in front of him, remembering that fateful night. The night that changed his life. Right before he shattered everything. He still remembered the look on your face, still remembered the feeling of his heart shattering, still felt the regret of what he had done as soon as he did it. The rain pouring outside was increasing as he laid his head to the glass, letting the tears finally fall. He had watched you sleep that night, your gorgeous face peacefully as you probably dreamt of butterflies and flowers, and he knew he couldn’t keep you. He was glad he got to have you just once but tomorrow you would be gone and he would make sure of it. When Bucky left the bed that next morning, he left his heart beside you.

Little did he know, you were also sitting in front of a window watching the rain, in your little apartment across town. The cup of tea doing little to warm you up as the memories you usually kept at bay were crashing over you. 

You had woken up alone in Bucky’s bed, the soreness between your legs brought a smile to your lips as you remembered the night before. Bucky’s sweet words and lingering touches felt like brands on your skin and every flash of the night before caused your heart to soar. You quickly dressed and made your way downstairs, finding an empty house. A note on the door of Bucky’s office told you that he was out dealing with some business and would be back later. Your heart clenched at the impersonal tone of the note and you shook your head to clear your doubts. But the ice that had crept in, was chilling you to the bone. 

You went about your day doing your usual work, but the feeling of dread never left the pit of your stomach. The feeling worsened when you heard the front door open and close, Steve and Bucky’s voices sounding from the foyer. Your feet carried you into the hallway before you realized what you were doing and suddenly he was in front of you, his suit jacket laying on the floor, white button up covered in blood. For the first time you saw the man everyone was afraid of, the terrifying mob boss, his eyes dead as they looked up to meet yours. No they didn’t meet yours, instead they looked right through you. He nodded to Steve, who was looking at you with worried eyes but you couldn’t take your eyes off Bucky, who just brushed past you without a second glance. 

Like a magnet, you followed behind him as he went up to his office. Shutting the door behind yourself, you faced him, finding him sitting on the edge of his desk watching you. His expression was cold and vacant, no remnants of the man you knew. 

“Bucky?” You asked in a soft voice, slowly approaching him. His eyes watched you cautiously, as you put a hand on his forearm. “Are you alright?”

“Take your hand off me, y/n,” He growled, voice dripping with venom. Your eyes flashed up to his face, your expression shocked. “I’ve let you become too comfortable,” He continued, stepping away from his desk, causing you to take a step back. “And that won’t do.”

He continued to stalk towards you until your back hit the wall and he loomed over you. A tremor wracked down your spine and for once you were scared of him. His ring covered hand came up to grab your throat, pushing you flush against the wall and leaned into you until his nose was touching yours. Your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying with no luck to yank it off.

“What’s wrong little birdie? Cat got your tongue,” Bucky smirked, transforming into a complete stranger in front of your eyes. His hand tightened and tears welled in your eyes.

“Bucky, please,” You pleaded, desperate for the man you knew was in there somewhere. “Don’t do this!”

“Do what? I got what I wanted, there's no need for me to act anymore.”

“Act? Bucky you don’t mean that,” You protested, nails digging into his wrist. 

“Oh but I do sweetheart. Did you really think I felt more for you?” 

“You did, you do!” You cried, tears now streaming down your face, “Last night was real Bucky, you can’t deny that!”

Bucky shook his head, freeing you from his grasp as he began to laugh uncontrollably.

“Last night,” He choked out between laughs, “last night was nothing, I fucked you and you let me.” You wanted to smack the laughter right out of him, but you were frozen in place by the harshness of his words. His mocking laughter got louder with each passing moment, and you just couldn’t stay any longer. You ran out of that house as fast as your legs would allow, never looking behind you, as you got in your car and drove away. 

If only you had stayed just a little while longer, you would have seen Bucky’s laughter give way to body wrenching sobs as the man you loved fell to pieces. 

Your hand absently rubs at the ache in your chest, your heart still broken. Some days you wondered if it was all a dream, whether you imagined how Bucky felt about you. Your heart told you it was real but his words never left your thoughts, haunting you always. Tears streamed down your face, wishing you could go back and live it all over again, even though you knew how it would end. It didn’t matter as long as you were around him just for a little while. 

A sharp knock pulls you out of your head and you glance curiously at the door, wondering who was here in this weather. You detangle yourself from your blanket and walk over to the door, looking into the peephole. Your breath catches in your throat and you rush to open the door, revealing thoroughly soaked Bucky Barnes. His broken expression causes the ache in your chest to worsen but you keep your face blank, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how close you were to breaking down. 

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he looks you over, making note of your tear stained cheeks and guarded expression. Taking a deep breath, he takes your warm hand into his cold one and finally speaks.

“I have loved you since the day I met you” 

“Bucky-, “ You begin to interrupt, but his other hand covers your mouth.

“Please let me finish and then you can tell me to go to hell if you want to,” Bucky begs, and you nod, unable to say no to him. “I have loved you since the day I met you and I knew if I let myself love you, I would ruin you. So for months I pushed you away, but you still found your way back. Somewhere along the line I stopped fighting it and let myself fall.” He stops for a moment, collecting himself before continuing. 

“I fell head first down the rabbit hole and I let myself drown in you. But that next morning, seeing you in my bed, I knew I couldn’t keep you because you were too good for the world I live in. So I lied and I broke your heart and I am so so sorry for everything,” His voice breaking on the last word as he drops his hand from your mouth. You look at him stunned, words escaping you. He waits as you gather yourself, bracing himself for whatever you were about to say. 

“Why are you here Bucky? Obviously nothing has changed, I’m still me and you’re still you,” You ask quietly, not having the strength to speak any louder. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to come here and tell you all this if he still couldn’t fit you into his life. Did he just enjoy breaking your heart repeatedly?

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek and you lean into it, enjoying the feeling. This wasn’t the response he was expecting from you, but he was going to fight with everything he had left. 

“I’m a selfish man, y/n and I don’t want to stay away from you anymore. I love you with every fiber of my being and I’m here to ask you to take me back, ragged edges and all. Nothing is the same without you and I can’t live another day in this colorless world. Please come back to me and set my world alight again.” Bucky’s blue grey eyes met yours, pleading with you to say yes. 

Words don’t seem like enough so instead your hands reach up, grabbing him by the lapels and kiss him hard. His hands find your waist, holding on for dear life and you know he’s never going to let go again.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Heyheyhey!! Can i request manager birthday and the team forget about it for seijoh, inarizaki, and shiratorizawa bcs tomorrow ma birthday hahah. Thank youuu and i love you

Anon-chan!! This is SUCH an important birthday request and I am beyond honoured to write it for you :D 💖💖💖💖✨

Our birthdays are so close too👉👈 mine's next week. (Exactly ten days apart from yours!!)

Anyways, happy birthday Anon-chan!!I hope you have a beautiful day, filled with lots of happy things, and a wonderful year ahead. you're wonderful, and I hope you always remember that !! 💖💖💖✨ I love you so very much <3

The teams forgetting their manager's birthday

Characters: Seijoh, Shiratorizawa, and Inarizaki

Warnings: none

Oh btw!! since the type of manager is not specified, I'll go with my default fem manager :D she's cute and sweet (like you, Anon-chan 😺😆💖) and the boys adore her a ton. She's also very capable, smart, and confident, and she loves being physical with the boys, which constantly flusters them!

Seijoh

The Seijoh boys would be so busy practicing for an upcoming match, they kinda forget everything that's happening around them.

Lots of focus. You smile fondly, because that's what makes them such a good team. Their ability to focus on their goals and eliminate all distractions.

Until one day, Yahaba is just scrolling through his phone's calendar when he sees “Manager Chan's birthday, 19th November.”

And he's just so shocked and guilty. He immediately calls the rest of the team and tells them what he just realized.

The team feels so guilty and disappointed in themselves. They're a day late to wish you, and they desperately want to make it up to you.

You're their precious manager after all, the one who bandages their injuries with a smile and who always gives them the motivation to do better.

How could they possibly forget such a precious human being's birthday?

That same day, they create a group chat excluding you, and begin to plan something special for you.

They break themselves up into teams with specific tasks of getting things ready for an impromptu birthday party for you.

Iwa-chan is in charge of ensuring everything runs smoothly, and he makes sure to do it with zeal, hoping to make it the best birthday ever for you, eventhough it's a bit late.

The next day, you walk into the gym, and it's absolutely quiet and dark. The boys aren't there yet, which is pretty odd, considering practice should've started a few minutes ago.

You stand in front of the gym and dial Oikawa's number, because he's always quick to respond to your calls, but the number goes straight to voicemail. You're confused, and a little curious as to where they are.

Suddenly, you feel someone's hands covering your eyes, and Oikawa's voice saying “y/n-chan, don't be scared. We have a surprise for you.”

You laugh, realisation washing over you that the boys probably planned something because they forgot it was your birthday yesterday, and follow Oikawa as he guides you inside.

When he finally uncovers your eyes, you see the boys holding a huge, slightly odd looking cake, lit with candles.

Oikawa hugs you from behind and you pull him closer to you, snuggling in his embrace.

You then blow out your candles and make a silent wish. I wish to always be by their side

Iwa-chan is already hitting Oikawa for hugging you before the rest, so you hug Iwa too, then Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Yahaba, Kunimi, and even Kyotani, albeit him being slightly rigid.

“thanks guys, this is an amazing surprise!” you say softly, as your eyes tear up. It's obvious that they made the cake themselves, and eventhough it wasn't perfect, your boys, made it for you.

Your heart squeezed as you cut slices for everyone, and handed it to them, as they sat on the bleachers to enjoy it.

You sit next to Yahaba and leaned on his shoulder. “Thanks for remembering” you said softly.

He blushed. “how did you know?” you explained that Kunimi told you, and he smiled at you and ruffled your hair.

“We're sorry for not remembering sooner, Y/n-san. Thanks for being the best manager ever” said Iwaizumi. He seemed to be nonchalant about it, but his eyes and smile betrayed him. He was fond of you, and genuinely glad that you enjoyed the small celebration they had prepared.

You smiled and kissed his cheek as acknowledgement, which caused him to blush and Oikawa to throw a small tantrum.

You laughed as you looked at them bantering with each other, Hanamaki and Matsukawa teasing Kyotani, and Yahaba and Kunimi next to you. You really did love these boys.

Shiratorizawa

So I'm pretty sure it's exam week, and these boys are just so studious and hardworking, they're totally immersing themselves in their studies and books.

Until it's their calculus exam and Tendou just suddenly remembers “Oh my God, it was Y/N's birthday two days ago!!” as his pencil flies across the room, much to the sensei's disapproval (haha, miracle boy is so cute)

He pulls the other third years aside after the exam, like Ushijima, and Semi, and tells them what he just remembers.

Ushijima is just stoic, but internally he's like "how could I forget? I never forget important dates like these? Is something wrong with me?" And Semi's just so sad he wants to scoop you in his arms right away.

Tendou then proposes the idea of taking you somewhere after school to surprise you, and they agree, and run off to tell the rest of the team.

Goshiki is just close to tears he hates that he forgot his favourite senpai's birthday, especially when you remembered his (and the entire team's) and never failed to make it a special day for them.

So after school ends, you're getting ready to go back home, when Semi just scoops you into his arms and carries you to the rest of the team.

You're not all that shocked, since Semi does this pretty often, and so you let him. “where are we going?” you ask, and he just casually answers “to celebrate the end of exams”

You laugh silently. They're definitely planning more than that, but you decide to humour them, and smile at the team when Semi lets you down gently.

“let's go have udon” says Shirabu with a too-big smile. You and the team walk to an udon shop near the school, and enter quietly.

Goshiki sits next you, and he looks like he wants to say something, but can't, as he bites his lip. Ushijima sits in front of you, and rest of the team take their places and begin ordering.

You notice Tendou talking to the shop owner intently, with Shirabu next to him. Ushijima knows that you might suspect something, so he tries getting your attention by asking you about your exams.

Suddenly, Tendou brings a cake to the table and team begins singing happy birthday for you. You smile happily and wait for them to finish before making a wish and blowing off the candles.

You smile happily at the team and their hearts grow warm, seeing you so happy like that.

“We're sorry for not remembering sooner, y/n-senpai” says Goshiki in a sad voice. Your heart tugs at seeing him so sad, so you ruffle his hair and assure him that exams are tough on everyone, and that it was better to celebrate it after they ended anyways.

You and the team eat the cake after having udon, and talk about the week together. They start reminiscing about memories with you, as they talk about their first impressions, and cute memories with a soft smile on their faces.

Tendou retells the story of how you first came to the team and how much you've grown ever since then.

At some point, Semi sits in your place whilst you've gone to the ladies room, and pulls you to his lap when you come back.

The team laughs when they see you desperately refusing, worried that you'll be too heavy, whilst Semi reassures you that you won't.

Goshiki adoringly smiles at you, and Semi pulls you closer to him. Tendou feeds you small pieces of strawberry left from the cake, as Shirabu records everything, excitedly typing in a caption on his social media.

Meanwhile, Ushijima is just carefully adding in a small reminder in his phone calendar, so he'll never forget your birthday in the future ever again.

Inarizaki

My sweet little fox babies! I think they would be excitedly counting down for your birthday, you're their precious manager-chan after all (and I can't bring myself to say they forgot 😅😭) when Atsumu suddenly sees a friend of yours post a "happy birthday y/n!!" on their Instagram story.

Atsumu immediately jumps on his brother's bed and wakes him up, whilst texting your friend. “Isn't y/n's birthday five days from now?”

Your friend replies. “no haha, it's today!” which cause the twins to desperately call Aran, Suna, Ginjima, and of course, captain Kita!

The boys are hurriedly awoken a few minutes after midnight, and absolutely frazzled! They had all planned something special, but now they would have to change the date, and some things (like the cake and venue) weren't ready so soon.

Osamu groggily got out of bed and began taking out eggs, butter, flour, and other baking ingredients. Eventhough it was extremely late, and he had a tiring day, nothing could compare to his love for you. And so, he started mixing the ingredients at one a.m.

Kita tried to remain calm, but internally freaks out. He and Suna are trying to brainstorm ideas of places they could take you to make your day enjoyable.

Atsumu was busy wrapping the gifts they had all got. He got way too many papercuts and had a bit of trouble, but it was for you, and the thought alone of you smiling was enough to motivate him.

Aran and Ginjima made their own preparations in their own homes for the next day, and Aran even facetimed Osamu to keep him company throughout the baking process.

They were determined to make your birthday a happy one, and genuinely wanted to let you know they loved and cared for you so much.

The next day, six terribly sleep deprived boys arrived at school, with the needed arrangements set. The cake was safely secured with Osamu, and Suna took the bag of gifts from Atsumu.

Kita went to go find you, and he saw you waiting by the entrance of school. “Y/n-san, let's go.” said Kita with a mysterious smile.

You were a bit confused. School was the other way and he was dragging you away from it, but you trusted Kita and followed him.

He led you to the rest of the team, and gently places his hand on your back. “Let's go, y/n-san. We're going to the beach.”

You were super confused. “but school?”. Suna gives you a sleepy smile. “Kita and me have already handled that. We told your teachers you'd be absent today, now c'mon.”

Atsumu gently holds your small hand in his and you guys walks to the subway. As you dig for your subway card in your pocket, the boys get seated. There's one less seat, so Atsumu pulls you to his lap, much to the rest of the team's disapproval.

They're all so jealous, Atsumu laughs silently, and pulls an oblivious you closer. Osamu just rolls his eyes, but internally seethes.

Two stops later, the team motions to exit, and Aran shyly comes closer to you, taking your hand this time. You smile at him and make your way to the small beach you sometimes spend time in, with the rest of the team.

Kita finds an empty picnic table and everyone sits down, placing the items they had brought with them down, and looking at you expectantly.

“Happy Birthday, y/n-chan.” they chorused together. Suna ruffled your hair from the right side of you, and Osamu begins lighting up the candles on your left.

You gratefully thank them for going to the trouble of bringing you here, the fresh beach air and breeze immediately putting you in a cheerier mood.

They then start singing you a happy birthday as you blush silently and blow the candles out, making a wish. I wish to be able to love these boys forever.

You lean over and kiss Osamu's cheek. He blushes red immediately. “Thank you for going to the trouble of baking this, Samu'” if only you knew, he thought silently, as flashbacks of him almost falling asleep in front of the oven came to mind.

Kita cuts the cake and gives you the biggest slice, much to your happiness. The boys all eat their cake and joke around about all the memories they've made with you.

“I can remember when y/n-chan just came. She was so small and sweet, Osamu said she reminded him of a macaroon” said Aran.

Kita fondly smiles as he gives you a pack off green tea from his grandmother.

Ginjima gives you the gifts the entire team had picked and you begin tearing up, much to everyone's dismay. You're just so grateful to have them.

Suddenly Atsumu leans over and swipes frosting from the cake on your face. The mood is once again lifted, as Suna takes a ton of pictures, and contributes to the frosting on your face too.

“hey that's enough now” says Kita. He looks firm, but his eyes betray him. The slight sparkle shows that he thinks it adorably hilarious how the boys are annoying you.

The water seems to be calling you, so you pull Suna to the shore and lean down to the water.

The rest of the day is just filled with the boys and you doing random things by the beach, like eating popsicles, and finding seashells. You're unable to actually get into the water, due to your school uniforms, but seeing an excited you gush over the seashells and smile happily over ice cream is enough for the boys.

At the end of the day, you and the team watch the sunset together, and swear to work extra hard for the upcoming nationals.

As they see you looking up at the sunset adoringly, their hearts squeeze in their chest, so grateful to be a part of your life.

Taglist: @osamusriceballs @k-sakusa-old

#happy birthday!! #darling anon chan i hope you have a great day #i love you so so much💖😤✨ #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuufanfics #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu fluff #inarizaki manager #semi haikyuu #kita shinsuke #suna rintarou #atsumu hcs #osamu headcanons #seijoh manager #seijoh #seijoh x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa x reader #shiratorizawa manager #shiratorizawa manager headcanons #shiratorizawa #ushijima fic #tendou imagine #semi haikyuu fanfics #shirabu fic #birthday headcanons #anonymous

[obsessive-ego]

Jack it to a jacket nsft

Masterbation, voyeurism, you know how I am

Musical beetlejuice x fem reader (reader has a vagina but uses they them pronouns)

Beetlejuice forgets his jacket and you use it while he's gone

Beetlejuice had announced to you he had to spend a few days in the netherworld for bio exorcist meeting or something, you really didnt get it, it's not like he actually had a job, all you knew is that he's been complaining about it since day one. That he had to leave the world of the living for a bit.

The day finally came for him to head out for his little business trip, you could tell the ghoul was less then thrilled to go, slight purple streaks graced his hair, you knew he wasnt too keen on being in the netherworld, the demon had such a fascination with the living, an adoration for living with you, going back to the netherworld, even for a few days was like heading back to work after a long period off, soul sucking.

"Alright Sugar" he starts adjusting his tie, his jacket resting on the arm of the couch "I'll be gone for a few days, try not to miss me too much~"

You give the ghoul a soft smile "itll be quieter for sure"  you try to joke

"Yeah..." he trails off, his playful teasing voice dropping along with his grin.

"I know this is gonna suck, but the sooner you get it started the sooner it's over with" you try to cheer him up giving the demon a light punch in the arm.

Beetlejuice's hue was now completely purple, you frown at the sight.

"You know doll, I'm being awfully selfish here, but, how bout ya give me a little sugar before I go?~"

You flinch at the suggestion, you wouldnt say you were shocked at this request, but you were.

"You're stalling"

"Come on babes, humor me, I gotta fill out paper work and deal with my mother, could REALLY use a pick me up~" he nudges you gently and gives a wink, hoping it'll soften you up, it does.

"Fine" you huff out, you grab the demon by the suspenders, yanking him to you level giving him a quick peck.

"No tongue on the first date?~" he snickers, as pink patches pop up in his mossy beard.

"...have a good trip" you utter trying to hide your embarrassment

"Oh doll I will, thinking about your soft lips~" the demon's voice drops to that low growl that never failed to make you warm in your lower areas

"Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Bee-"

You could NEVER make it to 3, the ghoul was always quick to slap a hand to your mouth, pulling you into a side hug.

"Trying to kick me out so soon sugar? So mean~" he chuckles, the ghoul pulls his hand from your mouth and you sigh.

Beetlejuice pauses holding you in this awkward side hug for a few minutes

"Bee?"

"I know" he grumbles, he begrudgingly pulls away

The ghoul makes his way to the empty wall and draws his entrance.

Knock

Knock

Knock

Your living room wall opens up to the netherworld, it was always a rare sight to you, a little anxiety inducing, you freeze for a moment, but as the demon steps into the world of the dead you shout

"Wait!"

Beetlejuice turns to you

"You forgot something"

The demon's eyes light up and in a flash he was infront of you, his hands cup your face as he slams his lips into yours, you jolt in surprise, as the ghoul pulls away he purrs "almost forgot my second goodbye kiss, thanks doll" and just like that he was gone, the netherworld was out of sight and you were alone.

"Your jacket" you whisper still alittle dizzy from his kiss.

...

The jacket he left behind spent a few hours folded neatly on the couch as you go about your alone time. Everytime beetlejuice was away you always took the opportunity to get some chores done, you liked the demon yeah, but he always got under foot, or he would be creepy while you tried to get things done. There were times where you were just doing the laundry, and the demon would just stare at you, no words, he just sat atop the dryer watching you like a hawk as you loaded the washer, it made your skin crawl and your stomach turn to have that much attention put on you, hell, you'd rather him be lewd and annoying then that.

As creepy as he was, that was just who he was, and you loved him, his awful charms, his terrible jokes, and his over all handsome, to you, look, wormed it's way into your heart and refused to let go.

Every kiss, every grope, every pet name he gave you dug you deeper into your affection. Though you were too terrified to confront him about your feelings, he was a literal demon, could he even share these feelings, let alone would he like you the same way, all in all you didnt want to ruin what the two of you had, friends, good friends.

You missed him, you really did, so what was the harm in wearing his coat, just around the house, and maybe smelling it every now and again, that wasnt too weird right? And it would be fine if you were to fall asleep wearing it right? There was no harm in it, but if beetlejuice was to pop in unexpectedly and if he say you wearing it casually youd never hear the end of it, and yet you never took it off.

It's been a few days since beetlejuice left for the netherworld, you were relaxing on your bed looking at memes trying to ignore how much you missed a certain undead bastard, hell you were wearing the jacket he left behind and stealing a small sniff here and there, beetlejuice never really gives you a time frame as to when he'd be back whenever he goes to the netherworld.

'Time moves differently when you're dead, and boy does it move, but it slows down when I'm with you babes' you shiver and try to swallow the lump in your throat that memory caused, the undead bastard was such a flirt.

You grew a tad lonely without your favorite dead guy, yes you used to live alone before beetlejuice barged his way into your home, but you have gotten used to him, you miss him when he's not with you, especially his no concept of personal space, how the ghoul's hands always found a home on your body, your hips, your waist, your shoulders.

You feel a familiar pulse between your legs, you try and ignore it, though your mind was reeling with old memories of beej touching you, you werent even scrolling through your phone anymore, just staring at the screen, thinking of the demon's strong callused hands running up and down your thighs.

"You win" you grumble sliding off your bed and crouching next to it, you pull out a little tool box. Opening the little box and revealing an average sized bright green vibrator brandishing a nice bulbous tip. You push the button on the toy's base and it buzzes to life, you smile, glad to see the barriers were still alive, it was too late for you to run out and get replacements.

You shimmy out of your pajama pants and panties before you hop back up on the bed. You remove the jacket giving it a deep inhale of its scent before placing it down next to you.

...

Your living room walls silently open up, letting in a thick fog of green reavling your demon friend, the ghoul knew it was late, late enough that his sweet little y/n should be dead asleep, as your living room rearranges itself back to normal the ghoul floats to your bedroom, excited to come snuggle up to your soft warm body after what felt like an eternity with dealing with his mother and newly deads with no sense of humor.

"Ah!"

The ghoul freezes at the sound, standing in front of your closed bedroom door, you could be? He presses an ear to the door, the faint sound of buzzing and muffled moans could be herd.

In a flash Beetlejuice's hair and moss on his face turns electric pink.

"A welcome home present? For me? Oh dolly~" he whispers before snapping his fingers and camouflaging himself. Beetlejuice fazed through the door and froze at the sight of you, yes he has seen you touch yourself before, but this?

There you were Laying on your bed, propped up by pillows, shirt pulled up exposing your breasts, bottom half completely bare, pumping the vibrator he got you (as an apology for messing with your old one) in and out of your leaking pussy, with your face buried in his jacket, muffling your whining.

The ghoul could have blown his load from the sight alone, yes he knew you liked him, and yes he knows you want him, but this? This was dirty, this was naughty, smelling his clothes and jerking off? You were just as horny as him, not really, no one is, but he'll take this.

"And here I thought only I had a scent fetish" he chuckles making his way to the end of the bed, plopping down to get a good view of your soaked vigina, he was fixated on the speed you pumped the toy in and out of you. Beetlejuice fumbled with his fly, pulling out his semi, the ghoul licks the palm of his hand, coding it is a nice layer of saliva before wrapping it around his cock. Beetlejuice starts off slowly, but it isnt long until his pace matches yours, imagining the toy between your legs was him, god slash satan he envied that peice of silicon.

"Beetlejuice" you whine bucking your hips up to meet the vibrator as it slid back in, you take another deep inhale of the jacket's scent and whine, beetlejuice groans in response.

"Such a dirty little thing, fuck- I expected to come home and see ya sleeping it in, ah- but this? Oh babes, I would have left it behind months ago to, oh god- to see you like this" the ghoul babbled, he really didnt want to finish before you, he wanted to enjoy this show for as long as possible.

You were absolutely lost in your little activity, using you non dominant hand to hold the demon's jacket to your nose, the scent drove you wild, you could imagine beetlejuice driving his cock into you over and over again, the idea of him fully dressed fucking you while you were completely naked made you tremble.

“Oh my god Bee, fuck, yes, please, fucking oh my god I want you to…Beetlejuice fuck…” you babble as you begin to pick up pace with the vibrator.

The ghoul drools at the show you oh so kindly are giving him, hearing you moan out his name, oh how he loved that sound, it wasnt the first time beetlejuice herd you moan out his name during your 'alone time' but it still made his toes curl as though it was.

Beetlejuice growls through his teeth, he was almost there, seeing you use his jacket in such a way was better than he ever could’ve imagined, yes he dreamed of you using his things for sexual satisfaction, he just thought he'd never see it.

Beetlejuice found that trying to keep the pace with you was growing too hard, he needed to finish, he needed you to finish. He didn’t want to cum before you, he needed to see you cum while using his jacket, he needed the image of you using his things to cum to be carved into his brain.

Thankfully, Beej is good at edging, this wasnt his first day being a peeping Tom, and it wont be the last, it wasnt easy, but he could do it, watching you whine and buck your hips because of him, sure made it a challenge though.

You were almost there, you stop pumping the toy, only for a second, to crank the vibrations to the higher setting, your hips jolt up as you press the jacket against your face muffling your screams, with the intensity up you were ready for the home stretch, you begin to move the toy again, in and out, imagining it was the ghoul you oh so loved. You could just imagine beetlejuice pressing you into the mattress with every thrust, all the dirty things he'd be saying to you, praising you for how well you take his fat cock, growling, biting, you couldn't take it anymore, you felt like you were gonna explode. God you wanted that smug bastard so badly, you loved him so much, you moved the hand holding the jacket against you face and brought it to your vagina, as one hand pumped the vibrator the other played with your clit. You groan through your teeth at the added simulation, if only you could see the demon infront of you.

Beetlejuice sat before you, jaw dropped, tongue hanging, drool dripping down his chin, panting. His cock was throbbing, leaking pre cum, he was ready to burst, honestly he surprised he hasn't yet, watching his y/n go to town on their pussy. Beetlejuice watched ad you hips bounced, and your toes curled, he could finally get a good look at your face, you were tearing up.

"Feels good doesnt babes? Wait till you get the real deal~"

"LAWRENCE!"  You shout as your hips buck upwards, just then, something new happened, you squirted, thought you didnt notice, you were too busy, head lulled back, panting, and using the soft buzzing of the vibrator to ride out your orgasm.

But beetlejuice on the other hand saw, he saw you squirt when you called him, when you called him by his first name, a name you rarely used. The demon blew his load shortly after your little finale, an image that will always be treasured by him. Beetlejuice wipes the cum off his hand on his pant leg, and slides his now soft cock back into his pants. He watches you lay there for a moment before you gingerly sit up, reaching forward to turn off the vibrator and remove it from you, you flinch doing so, still tender. You give out a yawn and toss the toy on the floor mumble how you'll deal with it in the morning, adjusting your shirt to cover hour chest you slide under the covers, in minutes you were asleep, holding his jacket oh so tightly.

Beetlejuice envied the garment, and as much as the ghoul wanted to slide in next you now, he couldnt, you were naked from the waist down. But you did leave him a tasty snack, so he couldnt be mad at you. Beetlejuice snatches up the freshly used vibrator, still warm from your touch, and vanishes

"Good night y/n" his voice purrs in your ears,

"...Lawrence..."

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

[impulsive-astrophile]

Heaven and Hell Were Words to Me

MSR | Gen | ~1.8k words

Post-“Monday”, Mulder and Scully try to heal from trauma they can’t really remember.

Tagging @today-in-fic.

Read it on ao3, or below the cut!

It starts on Tuesday.

Scully comes into the office to find Mulder already there - as had been usual until after Dreamland - looking as tired as she feels.

Despite having gotten 8 hours of sleep, Scully had woken that morning feeling exhausted. Fragments of nightmares she can’t quite remember left her stomach churning enough that she didn’t even have breakfast.

Seeing Mulder instantly calms her a little. Touching him is even better. Her hands stop shaking for the first time in hours when she finds a reason to cross the room and touch his shoulder to ask where a file is. But whenever he’s out of sight, a pit drops back into her stomach like a stone, her limbs becoming heavy with dread.

He’s gone for 5 minutes that afternoon to use that bathroom, and her hands start to shake again.

He’s gone for 30 minutes the next day to pick up lunch, and she can barely type, noting reluctantly that her resting heart rate climbs to almost double her regular resting rate and into tachycardia - hovering around 130.

It’s ridiculous, she tells herself. They’re both fully functional, independent adults who can operate without the other.

But Mulder seems reluctant to be away from her, as well; on Thursday, he proposes she go with him to get lunch (which he never does because she hates it - she gets line-rage, and he doesn’t mind picking it up for them), and she jumps at the opportunity. His hand is rooted to the small of her back the entire way there, and hers to his arm the whole way back.

When they get back, they definitely don’t clear off half of his desk and bring her chair over so they can eat right next to each other; no, they sit on opposite sides of the room at their respective desks like normal people.

But if, say, they both just so happen to regularly need to use the bathroom at the same time, coincidentally meaning they end up spending less time apart, then that’s definitely just a coincidence.

‘Intimacy through codependency’, Dana Scully’s ass.

So, when Scully asks Mulder to come with her after work on Friday, it’s for completely practical reasons.

“Mulder? Are you okay? Your neck is red because you’ve been rubbing it so much.” Scully’s voice startles Mulder out of continuing that same motion.

“What? Yeah.” He smiles sheepishly, resting the offending hand on the desk. “I guess I’m just getting old, Scully. Sleeping on the couch this week has really done a number on my neck.”

Scully nods sympathetically. “Why haven’t you bought a new mattress yet?”

“They’re still redoing some of the floor in my room,” Mulder says.

Scully frowns. “You told me they finished that on Wednesday.”

“...I just haven’t had the time?” He tries, caught. Doesn’t say, it’s not worth buying one if you’re not in it.

She lets him off the hook. “Okay. We’ll go shopping after work today.” You deserve comfort, and I’m going to see that you have it. Then, with a gleam in her eye, “after all, an old man should take better care of his body.”

Mulder shakes his head, solemn. “You’ll know how it feels when you’re my age, Scully.”

Scully scoffs, Mulder smirking to himself before feigning a return to his paperwork. She waits until it seems that he’s actually focused on it, then pulls a paper clip out of a container in front of her and takes aim.

When it hits him square in the forehead, the look on his face is worth the war it starts.

--

“24/7 MATTRESSES!” offered the kind of vibe you’d expect from stopping at a non-descript fast food joint in the middle of nowhere at 3 AM; lighting just a little too bright, music that seemed familiar yet was impossible to place, and a single employee who seemed to appear out of nowhere from otherwise deserted floorspace.

Still, they offered incredible deals on queen-size mattresses, even offering complimentary pillows and same-day delivery and installation within a mile. And, luckily, Mulder’s apartment was only a few blocks away. So, hairs on the backs of both their necks up the whole time, Scully helped Mulder choose a nice memory foam mattress, then watched his back as he paid, and was at his side as they fast-walked to the exit.

If they’d turned back, they would’ve seen that the employee vanished as soon as the door shut behind them.

--

By the time they get to Mulder’s apartment just 10 minutes later, they find the mattress neatly set in his bedframe, pillows on top, even though his front door had been locked.

“...remind me to file that place under ‘liminal spaces’, Scully,” Mulder says with an uneasy laugh.

Scully nods absently. Mulder can see the gears working in her head. Eventually, she settles on, “sheets?”

Mulder fetches them from the linen cupboard, and they get to work. Together, they wrestle the fitted sheet onto the bed. Mulder tries to help with tucking the flat sheet, but Scully gets frustrated with his sloppy corners and shoos him away to find pillowcases.

He chuckles when he returns to find the sheet tucked with military corners - he loves how much of a perfectionist she is - but shuts up when he gets a pillow to the face. Tossing Scully the other pillowcase, he makes quick work of his own, then places it on the bed and collapses.

He buries his face into the mattress with an exaggerated moan. “Oh, Scully, this thing is amazing,” he says, muffled by the foam.

Scully drops her pillow next to him with a chuckle, resting a hand on his back lightly. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Mulder heaves a deep sigh, rolling over onto his back and resting his head on a pillow. “She could never feel the same way about me,” he says, tone wistful. “No,” he puts a hand over his heart, looking downtrodden, “I’m afraid it could never be requited.”

“A shame,” Scully agrees, stifling a smile.

Mulder cranes his head up, mouth open to make a joke, but all that comes out is a pained groan. He grabs his neck as his head falls back against the pillow.

“Oh, I forgot about your neck.” Scully’s brow creases as she leans down a bit. “You okay, Mulder?”

Mulder nods, eyes shut tight.

“Well, that’s convincing.”

A few seconds later Mulder peers up at her, smiling but obviously not feeling as good as he wants her to think. Scully makes a decision.

“Mulder, let me give you a massage,” she says. When he opens his mouth to object, she continues, “my mom always used to get terrible pains in her neck from sleeping on the couch on nights where we waited for Dad to come home. I was the only one in the house she trusted to get the knots out.”

Mulder rubs his neck, considering, then nods gingerly. “Thank you,” he says gratefully.

“Any time,” Scully responds, slipping off her shoes. “If you were feeling better, I’d ask you to move. But since you’re not, I’ll come to you.”

She climbs onto the bed, kneeling behind his head.

“I’m going to support your neck with one hand, slip the pillow out from under you with the other, then rest your head flat on the mattress, okay?” She explains.

Mulder hums in agreement, wincing only minimally as she moves him around. Then, she rests her hands on either side of his neck, fingertips touching his clavicles, and begins gently applying sweeping pressure from his neck down to his shoulders.

“I’d normally use massage lotion,” Scully says, teasing, “but I doubt you keep any around the house.”

“Mm-mm,” comes Mulder’s quiet confirmation, mouth quirking with half a smile.

When she’s finished, she notices that Mulder is completely limp in her hands, apparently asleep. She smiles softly, reaching to comb the hair away from his forehead. Letting her fingers brush through his hair, she takes stock of herself.

For the first time this week, she feels steady. And it doesn’t escape her notice that it’s while she’s holding Mulder, either.

She knows she should go now that he’s asleep. But those nightmares... even just the flashes she does remember after a week of having them - cradling him in her arms, desperately trying to keep his life from leaking out from between her fingers, pleading for him - have her reluctant to leave him. To sleep, even for just one night, with him in her arms, where she could know he was safe--

Mulder fidgets in her hands, and she looks down to find him blinking up at her. “Whatever it is, you’re thinking too hard,” he teases sleepily.

“Sorry,” she says, “I was trying not to wake you.”

Scully extricates her hand from his hair delicately, moving to get up, but he grasps her wrist. “Wait. Please stay.” His voice is soft. “That was the first time all week I haven’t had any nightmares.”

Scully frowns. “Nightmares, Mulder? I’m sorry. Old ones or new ones?”

They’re both intimately familiar with each other’s nightmares, and with how to soothe one another after them. Sometimes, part of the soothing process was to talk about them - especially if they were new.

“New, I think. I remember being in pain and hearing you sound worried and scared, but being unable to help when I tried... and then nothing.”

Scully frowns once more, starting to stroke his hair again. “How can I help?”

“Stay?” He requests softly.

“Of course,” Scully says. They’d both held each other after nightmares before.

Scully scoots down the bed, settling herself on a pillow and pulling Mulder to her. Absently, she thinks that she’s glad that they’d stopped by her place before the mattress store so she could change into casual clothes.

Mulder wraps his arms around her back, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck.

They breathe each other in for a while before he speaks again. “You’ve been having nightmares too,” he deduces, sounding like he’s come to a realization, “and that’s why you’ve been tired and just as clingy as me this week.”

Scully sucks in a breath, nodding.

“Old ones or new ones?”

“New,” she confesses. “But this is supposed to be me comforting you, not the other way around.”

“We can do mutual comforting,” Mulder assures her. “How can I help?”

She holds him tighter, feeling the rise and fall of his torso between her arms and the soft huff of his breath across her neck. It’s enough to know he’s safe, alive, and well. She squeezes him briefly. “This is enough.”

#first thing I've written in 2 months #feels good #I hope y'all enjoy! #msr #The X-Files #fic #hurt/comfort #nightmares #cuddling #monday

[five-rivers]

Medium Despair

For @sapphireswimming

.

Danny woke up gasping for air and fighting against his sheets. By the time he’d recognized his surroundings, he’d already rolled off his bed. He dragged in ragged, shuddering breaths. He could breathe. He could breathe. He wasn’t suffocating. He wasn’t at school, in his locker or otherwise. He could move he could stand. He did stand, skin prickling with the memory of electricity.

“Sydney?” he called, softly. “Is that you?” He could see a glowing form in the corner behind his dresser, and with that dream there weren’t a whole lot of other people it could have been, but it was polite to ask. At least in Danny’s opinion.

The ghost slid out, slowly, flickering. “Sorry, Danny,” he said, and he really did sound remorseful.

Danny might believe it more if it wasn’t 2:20 in the morning on a school night, and this wasn’t the third time Sydney had done this. Still, Sydney was something like a friend.

“What is it, Sydney?” he asked. “Did something happen at the school?” Casper High was one of the most haunted buildings in Amity Park, which honestly didn’t make sense.

Danny had done his research. The school was old, sure, but Sydney was the only person who had ever actually died there. That didn’t stop the Lunch Lady, Technus, and a whole host of others from hanging around the place, although most of those others were pretty weak. Hardly strong enough to even interact with Danny or other ghosts.

Sydney shrugged.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Sydney looked down at the ground. The puddle of not-light he cast on the ground – visible only to only Danny and other ghosts – rippled and glimmered.

Danny frowned. “I have fun talking to you during the day, Syd, but I do have to sleep. I’m human, you know?”

“I know,” said Sydney.

“So why are you here?” asked Danny, briefly spreading his arms in exasperation and the dropping them to his sides again. He was still unsettled by the dream he’d just had.

Being close to ghosts while he was sleeping was just a recipe for nightmares. They weren’t always about their deaths, but more often than not…

Sydney’s death was a particularly unpleasant one. Danny did not expect to get back to sleep. Not tonight. Hence his annoyance.

“I need to…” started Sydney, before trailing off. “I need…”

“Sydney?”

“Warn you.”

“About what?”

“Not what they seem,” whispered the ghost. He looked away and phased out through the wall.

Danny’s frown deepened. Usually, Sydney was much clearer than that. Sometimes, talking to Sydney, Danny forgot he was talking to a ghost.

Danny sat down at the edge of the bed and tried to work a kink out of his neck. He caught himself scratching at his skin as if he wanted to pull it off a minute later.

It was always like this since the accident. Especially after he had a dying dream.

Forcibly, he stopped himself. His skin was fine. There was no electricity flickering under his skin. He was alive. He was safe. His body was his body. His body.

(He was not floating above it, light as air, staring at its waxy pallor, at the glassy, empty eyes.)

He was alive, alive, alive.

Awake.

Not dead.

Slowly, he laid back down on the bed. He was alive, awake. A medium, yes, associated with more ghosts than could possibly be healthy, either physically or mentally, yes, but alive. Definitely, clearly, alive.

He didn’t like it when ghosts woke him up. Especially when they came with ominous warnings about the future.

Maybe Sydney would let Danny track him down tomorrow, but Danny doubted it.

.

“Something’s off,” said Danny, staring up at the tall front of the school.

“Yeah,” agreed Sam, “it’s Spirit Week. When the teachers participate in medieval rituals to brainwash us into supporting the troglodytes that ‘represent’ our school in sports.”

“I was going to argue,” said Tucker, “but that is about what it’s for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, “I don’t think it’s that. Probably. Unless there’s a ghost that appreciate the pun?”

“You appreciate puns.”

“I’m not a ghost,” said Danny, frowning at Sam.

“That’s true.”

Danny sighed. “I just have a bad feeling about this. I know you can’t see like I can, but… be careful. If you do see anything weird, let me know.”

“Hey, Danny!”

“Oh, I changed my mind. Kill me now, I want to be a ghost.”

Jazz ran up and threw an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “You left so early!” she said. “Are you excited about Spirit Week, too?”

“No,” said Danny.

Jazz paused, looked at Danny more closely. “You look terrible,” she said. “Maybe you should talk to the counselor?”

“Pass,” said Danny.

“You know, you’ll have to talk to me in more than monosyllables at some point.”

“Do I?”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go to talk to Mr. Lancer about my speech! Have a great Spirit Week, guys!”

She ran off.

“I will never understand her,” declared Sam. “But I think she does have a point about the counselor. Maybe they’d be able to help with the nightmares? At least the non-ghost-caused ones.”

“All my nightmares are caused by ghosts.”

“Eh,” said Tucker, giving a half-shrug.

“Will it make you feel better if I agree to go?”

“Yes,” said both Sam and Tucker.

“Ugh. Fine,” said Danny.

.

Danny walked though the deserted hallway, pass in hand, study hall abandoned behind him as he looked for the counselor’s office. He’d never been there before, but it should be around here somewhere, right?

A cold hand settled on his shoulder.

“You must be Danny Fenton! Your sister told me all about you.”

Danny turned to look up at a tall woman. She was dressed a lot more flamboyantly than Danny would have expected.

“Yeah? That’s me. Who are you?”

“I’m Penelope Spectra. Your counselor! Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“Uh,” said Danny. There was something unpleasantly an unexpectedly pejorative and assumptive about that statement. Weren’t counselors supposed to tell you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you? That your feelings were valid.

He shrugged. He couldn’t put his feelings into words.

(Couldn’t open his mouth for fear of cold leaking out past his teeth, his soul exhaled with his breath.)

(Why did he feel this way?)

“Why don’t you step into my office?”

The room was… not what he expected.

“Sorry about the dust,” said Spectra. “I’m just moving in. They upgraded me.” She smiled, showing all her teeth. “So… like I said, your sister told me a lot about you, and I have a few things I’d like to try for your laz—Excuse me. Your difficulty with staying focused. It happens sometimes with traumatic brain injuries, that a promising young mind can be—Well. In any case. I am here to support you and find a way for you to succeed. What’s troubling you?”

Danny’s ginger perch on the dusty chair turned into a frustrated slump. “Nothing,” he said. He pushed himself back up. “I should go—”

“Oh, just humor me,” said Spectra. “There has to be some reason you came. Anxiety? Stress? Social pressures?”

Danny shook his head and stood up.

“Nightmares?”

He sat back down.

.

Danny leaned over the table to whisper to Tucker during English, when they were supposed to be reviewing vocabulary words.

“Have either of you seen the counselor before?” asked Danny, after what was easily the worst week of his life. He was starting to have suspicions, but…

“Yeah,” said Tucker. “When you were in the hospital. He was pretty cool.”

“He?” asked Danny. “He?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been seeing a ghost for the past week.”

“Ghost therapist? Well, if it’s working…”

“It isn’t. She’s from hell. I swear. A literal demon from hell.”

“Exorcism?”

“Exorcism.”

.

Jazz didn’t often come to school after hours, but she’d left several important things and she was the student body activity director, voted for and everything.

Important thing #1, her speech, which she had to practice.

Important thing #2, the—what was that?

Already spooked by the late-night atmosphere, she ducked into a doorway and peeked at the place she’d seen movement. There weren’t many classes held down that hallway, and she didn’t come down this way often, so maybe she was just—

No. That was her little brother and his friends conducting some kind of satanic ritual over a wastepaper basket.

Their parents were terrible influences. She was going to give them a stern talking to when—what what what what WHAT—

What had she just seen?

She looked back around the corner to see the… whatever it was dissolve in smoke and fire and shadows. Then Danny and his friends started cleaning up as if this was a perfectly normal Thursday night.

Jazz… Jazz was going to process this. Later.

She turned around and walked straight back out to her car. There was, after all, nothing that important.

.

“So,” said Danny, leaning towards Sam on the bleachers as he watched his sister give her speech. “Looks like we saved Spirit Week.”

“Never say that to me again,” said Sam.

“But we did. Look at all this spirit-filled people.”

“You were literally the only victim.”

“But Sam~”

“It does seem less grim, though, doesn’t it?” asked Tucker, contemplatively. “You are no longer the goth bird of happiness.”

“Maybe a bit,” allowed Sam. “I think that’s just because everyone’s glad this week is over, though. No offense, Danny.”

“None taken. I’m glad it’s over, too.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

[atalho-s]

Light Up The Dark

Part 4 | No matter how it ends

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: smut +18 miniors dni, swear words?, drinking, mention of anxiety crisis, let me know if anything else!

words: 2.8 k

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! If you want to be tagged in the next chapters let me know!!

PART 4 if you want to read other parts click here!

Y/n opened her eyes slowly. A wind blew in through the window along with the sunlight that hit her bare back lightly. She lifted her head and looked around her: she was in a room that wasn't hers, in a bed that wasn't hers. Suddenly memories of the night before invaded her mind. She had actually gone to the waiter's apartment after an anxiety attack, it hadn't been a dream after all.

She realized she was alone in bed, for a moment she thought Tom had left her again, just like he had last time. But she smelled coffee from somewhere and the noise of someone stirring something in the kitchen. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for a t-shirt that was on the floor wearing her next.

She went to the bathroom and after a few minutes she came back to the bedroom a little afraid. She was doubtful whether she stayed or simply wore her clothes from the night before and left. She didn't want to disturb Tom in his routine and at the same time she didn't know how to behave after having slept with him again, after all it was the first time she truly slept with him on the same bed and wake up together, the last two times she didn't have to deal with it.

She decided to go to the kitchen, if he wanted to throw her out then so be it. She went down the hall and stopped at the door facing a scene that made her smile: Tom was preparing pancakes and putting them on a plate over the sink, whistling some music. He was wearing only sweatpants, no shirt and his hair a little messy, which made her smile even more at how wonderful he looked.

- Is this all this for me? - she asked making him startle a little turning towards her. He looked her up and down smiling right away and leaving her shy.

- Sure sweetheart. - He said taking the last pancake and turning off the fire. - And this all is for me? - He asked turning and leaning on the counter of the sink looking at her.

-Dork... - she said, crossing her arms and avoiding looking at him. - I hope you didn't mind borrowing one of your shirts.

- No problem darling... Besides, you look great in it. - He said raising a suggestive eyebrow and Y/n smiled, leaning away from the door and sitting in one of the benches.

- I'm flattered... Well, you're also are looking very good with your cooker... - She looked at him again, analyzing his bare chest. - Style...- She finished the sentence and he smirked approaching with the plate of pancakes and taking a cup of coffee, placing it in front of her right away.

- Thank you Miss Y/n Y/l/n, writer of Well of Truths and Curse of 18th House. - He said making a small bow making Y/n laugh.

- Hm... - she said eating a piece of her pancake. - You know about my books now?

- Let's say I did some research... - he said taking a sip from his cup. - You know, I wanted to know if you weren't the owner of a mafia or something to have so much money, maybe I was sleeping with the enemy. - He said sawing his eyes and she rolled hers laughing.

- Of course, of course... - she said also taking a sip of her coffee. - And did you read it?

- Not yet... I'm terrible at reading, but I confess that the synopses are very interesting and a little terrifying.

- They're not THAT terrifying... If I gave you a copy of them you'd read them? - She asked looking at him and Tom smiled.

- I think it's a good idea darling... - he said eating a piece of pancake looking at her intently. - Are you already planning our next date?

- That's not what I meant…- she said feeling her cheeks heat up. - Just... I mean...- Y/n wanted to beat himself up because he was getting lost in words like that.

- I know what you mean... I'm just messing with you. - He said smiling even more openly.

-Ha-ha... Very funny -she said ironically. - Just because you saved me yesterday I'll give you a discount. - She said putting a strand of her hair behind her ear.

- Speaking of that... Are you feeling better? - he asked now in a serious tone.

- Yes I am... - Y/n said sighing. - It was just a scare, I should already be used to all this, but anyway, thank you for helping me... - she said finishing her coffee.

- No need to thank me for anything, and you don't have to get used to it, because what they did was wrong so don't feel guilty for feeling bad... - he said looking at her getting up and going to the sink.

- Yes, you are right. But, I don't know, sometimes I wanted to be invisible somehow, not have to deal with any of that. - She said with her back to him washing her dishes and Tom approached her.

- Darling…- he said in a low voice putting his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on her shoulder. - I'm sorry you feel that way... - he give a small kiss on the curve of her shoulder and neck making her shiver. -But think on the bright side...-now he was kissing her neck. -I'll be here to distract you from these moments...-he finished kissing below her ear.

- So... - Y/n started to say, finishing washing her mug and drying her hands on a towel. - You mean I'll be able to use you whenever I want?- she asked now turning towards him and putting her arms around his neck, while Tom still had his hands on her waist. Y/n bit her lip watching him closely and he smiled.

- I'm at your disposal love... - he replied tilting his head to the side and taking a small bite on her neck, making Y/n moan involuntarily. Tom then squeezed her waist tightly and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a breath-taking kiss. She couldn't deny it. He was her addiction, his touch was like anesthesia for her skin and it scared her, but in a good way.

After a few minutes kissing Y/n pulled back a bit and he continued kissing her face and neck while she closed her eyes.

- Tom... I need to confess something... - she said between sighs. - I mean... It's weird, but...- He stopped kissing her and looked at her closely, paying close attention. - I kind of... I feel inspired when... - she started to say, but was embarrassed to continue, especially since he was looking at her so closely.

- When what? - He said smiling encouraging her to continue.

- When... We got... You know? - She said wanting to hit herself for looking like a embarrassed teenager.

- When we fuck? - Tom said raising an eyebrow smirking and Y/n wanted to die because he said out loud.

- Well... Yes... - she replied, averting her eyes from his and running her hand over his bare chest lightly, making Tom put one of his hands that was on her waist higher, lifting his shirt a little.

- What do you mean inspired? - he still smiled and approached his face to hers.

- When we... have sex... I kind of get inspired to write... I mean, I know it's weird... But, I kind of tested it and when we didn't, my block comes back and well... .When we did yesterday, today I woke up with even more ideas for my book... And that's exactly what happened the other times too... So... - she said and Tom looked at her curiously. For a moment she felt pathetic for saying that, it sounded crazy, but that was what was happening and she needed to tell him that.

- Got it... So you mean I'm your... - he said making a thoughtful face. - Sex amulet or something? - He gave her a little chuckle.

- Well... Yeah, I think it's like that... - Y/n said shrugging. She didn't know if he was just making fun of her, or if he even believed what she was talking about, but at the moment she didn't care.

-Hm... So you're stuck with me darling...-he said giving her a peck and taking her leg up to his waist. - Because, how will you manage to finish your newest best seller? - he said smiling and Y/n felt her breath quicken.

He was right. She was stuck with him, she had no escape. And to tell the truth she was enjoying it, she loved having him whenever she want to escape her writer’s block. In fact, she loved having him anytime, period. Even though she didn't know much about him, he still made her feel good and that was what mattered.

- Yeah... I think you're right... - Y/n said passing her hands from his chest to the back of his head. -I think I'll have to use you until I finish...-she said smiling looking into his eyes.

- You can use me all you want sweetheart. - He said husky close to her mouth and then colliding his lips again kissing her intensely while Y/n tangled her fingers between his already messed hair, making Tom squeezed her leg viciously and pulling her closer.

But as they were making out a low song started to play, causing Y/n to stop kissing Tom after a few seconds.

- I think it's my phone. - she said softly, numb as Tom now attacked her neck.

-Let it ring...-he said against her skin and y/n bit her lip.

-I can't, it could be important...- She said pushing him lightly and Tom snorted stopping kissing her.

- Ok, ok... - he said releasing her and she left his arms towards the sound coming from the room.

After searching for a few seconds she ended up finding her phone under her clothes on the floor and answered it without seeing who it was.

- Hello?

- Finally! I thought you had died, been kidnappe or something like that! - Milla yelled on the other side and Y/n made a face.

- Milla! Sorry! I got distracted...

- Distracted? Sure... I've been calling you a thousand years ago!You forgot your interview today? By the way, are you ready? - She said and Y/n put her hand on her forehead. She had completely forgotten about the interview she had today with one of the most reputable magazines in the country. It would be to talk about her career and promote the movie that would come out about her book, things she wasn't prepared to talk about.

- Milla... Sorry... I really forgot... But give me 15 minutes and I will be there in the studio ok? - Y/n said picking up her clothes from the floor with her phone hanging.

- Ok 15 minutes and nothing more young lady! -she replied andYS/n laughed at how she looked like her mother.

- Okay, okay... See you in a bit. - She said hanging up the phone and then pulling her dress over her head. She sat up in bed and grabbed her sandals and looked up to see Tom watching her leaning against the door.

- Going so early? - He said pouting and if Y/n wasn't so professional she would drop all her tasks for the day just to stay there.

- Yeah... I forgot I had an interview today... - she said finishing putting on her sandals and getting up taking the rest of her things.

- Sometimes I forget that you are little famous... - he said smiling and Y/n approached, facing him.

- Hey! Watch your mouth, my book will even become one of the best movies ever made. - She said jokingly making face of diva and passing him, going to the front door with Tom laughing following her.

- Okay, the best writer in the universe. -He said taking her arm making her turn towards him. He smiled pulling her closer and kissing her one last time.

- Hm... - Y/n said against his lips. - Enough, otherwise they'll kill me. - She said separating their lips and moving away from him.

- Wait! How are we gonna find each other if I don't have your number darling? - Tom asked while Y/n press the button of the elevator.

- Don't worry Romeo, I have contacts... - Y/n said winking and Tom smiled with the nickname, shaking his head. The elevator arrived and she walked in seeing the door close not taking her eyes off him.

She smiled to herself. She just didn’t prove her "theory" but she even had told him about it. He made her so comfortable that she felt she could talk to him about anything, that he would never judge her. Even though he was completely full of himself, even though he enjoyed seeing her embarrassed in his presence, she felt that he would never do anything to hurt her. Even though she didn’t know nothing about his personal life. And to tell you the truth, it was better to leave this way, at least for now. She didn't know where this was going, so the less she knew about him, the better.

After nearly half an hour she was in the recording studio listening to Milla freaking out about her being late. Y/n was sitting in a chair while one of the assistants dried her hair and someone else was doing her makeup.

- Girl, where were you last night? You said you would prove a theory and then it just disappeared? - Milla said curiously after a while and Y/n smiled discreetly.

-Mil... I'll tell you everything later, because it's a long story...-she replied while Milla was checking her phone.

-Well...- she said looking at the screen. - I think it's a really long story, because... - she said making a face and Y/n turned a little confused.

- What? What was it?

- There are pictures of you all over twitter... And on gossip sites too... - she said giving her the phone for Y/n to see and she took it from her hand, feeling a shiver. For a moment she had even forgotten about yesterday's mess.

She knew her photos from the night before were going to be on the internet, but even so, she still felt a shiver from seeing it. The headlines talked about how she had "run away" from fans and her picture was stamped all over the covers. Not only did her face appear, but Tom's as well, leading her to the back of the bar. At least nowhere said they knew each other, just said he was just a local employee who had "saved" her from the crowd of fans.

- I knew this was going to happen... - she said taking a deep breath and handing the phone back to Milla.

- And you don't tell me anything? Are you okay? Where did you go after all this mess? - Milla asked and one of the assistants entered the room asking Y/n to accompany him to the interview room.

- Mil, I'm fine, it was just a little scare ... I'll tell you everything after ok? - She said standing up and following the assistant leaving Milla with a raised eyebrow looking at her.

She knew that all it would explode, for a moment she was afraid to expose Tom to all of this, as much as she liked to be with him, she was afraid to put him in that whole mess. She would have to be a lot cautious now, no matter how that "relationship" would ended.

taglist: @petesrparker @usuck @cam-blog98​ @lolooo22​

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x famous!reader #bartender!tom #waiter!tom #waiter!tom x reader #tom holland series #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x writer!reader

[lyallblacklupin]

Sirius tries to remember Remus.

Post-Azkaban Wolfstar: Angst with Hopeful Ending.

Sirius is battling with his memory after Azkaban. 12 years of dementors torturing him, that had caused some real damages to his brain. He doesn’t remember people until they introduce themselves to him. Everyone is steering clear his way but Remus hasn’t given up on him yet.

These days are sickening. They make you feel so lonely and ugly. They tell you—no they scream at you that you don’t deserve anything. Know why? Because you don’t matter. You don’t exist. The most horrifying thing about those voices is that they can make you believe they are saying the truth. Like I did. And I still do, and believe me, it’s not good.

Life is just unfair is so easy to say, it’s just a slip of tongue as if you are consoling a group of people, like Madam Hooch used to when we would lose to Slytherins because they played dirty. However, realizing the fact how unfair life really is, is gut-wrenching. It forces you to become unlike yourself. It puts malevolent ideas in your head for the people who you love—or used to loved. I would go on and blame these walls, but then I’m questioning the universe that why did I have to be born here? The Grimmauld Place 12? And then I’m eventually answered; Life is unfair, you git, haven’t you get it yet?

The nights are terrible here, I hear Kreacher whispering to my charming mother’s portrait, I hear the floor creaking even though no one comes here, except they are invited by Dumbledore—which sounds weird because it’s my house but again, life is just unfair.

Right now, I’m struggling to sleep because there is a prickling fear sitting at the edges of my body. The fear of Dementors for taking the last of everything away.

I still have some good memories, like the one when James made me Harry’s Godfather. Harry’s big emerald eyes were streaming with fat tears until he was given into my arms. I can remember that I had gasped at the scene, and so did the others in the room.

“Oh Sirius! He was crying for like an hour! But he stops now!? I swear this is not a coincidence!” Lily said, but James had been quiet.

“Prongs?” No answer.

“Prongsie? Hey!” Because I caught him pressing his hand on his mouth forcefully, his face blotchy, and he didn’t stop sniffing. He was crying! “What? Like you—father and son both work alternatively? When Harry stops crying, he transfers his weeping mantra to you, and vice versa?”

“Shut up!” Before I said something, I let out an ‘oof’ because James shoved me in his embrace, sandwiching Harry in middle of the process. Harry was giggling with his tear-stained face. His laugh was like music to my ears. I didn’t mention that. I was in love with Harry. He felt like my own child. I never thought I’d feel this exuberance but there was, more than I expected. I was bad at displaying true affection in front of people, but I couldn’t help when Harry’s tiny and chubby hands brushed the collar of my jacket, utterly in awe with the feeling of material on his fingers, I completely forgot James was hugging me, and I managed to press a kiss on Harry’s cheek. He smelled like soft babies. I was in love with that scent. I wanted to hold him forever.

I can never forget that memory. It helps me cast a patronus. There is also something vague about that memory. There is someone too in the small crowd, behind me, other than James. I can remember there was the blonde girl, Mckinnon, and her best friend, Meadows-something. I struggle with names. Sometimes I forget—

“Sirius?”

—Remus’ name. I have to see or hear the person to see if I can remember.

“I’m in my room?” He calls me out every time for like the hundredth time he has found me in my bedroom, and yes, I am still in my bedroom. He won’t stop calling me out. Sometimes, he is very annoying.

“Oh yeah, Of course.” He appears at the doorway, leaning to his left, smiling weakly. He looks tired. He is short of breath. I want to give him a glass of water but my limbs are protesting.

“I could give you a glass of water, but I—just don’t feel like getting up.” I didn’t want to say that but I did because the expressions on Remus’ face are priceless. There is awkwardness written on his face with a hint of shock and sadness. There is nothing pretty about that, but it brings back an indistinct memory I enjoy that I cannot tell. I am disturbing. That’s another trait I have discovered about myself ever since I came back from Azkaban.

“No, it’s alright. I just had water. Not thirsty at all. I—umm…I brought you something.” He says, and then I notice a package in his hand.

“Hope it’s not something you and your werewolf buddies plays with.”

“Ha, no, I wish. But it’s something I needed to give you…from a very long time.” He comes and sits beside me. I had to sit up because I can’t let him touch me. I don’t know why but I am always scared of Remus Lupin, and it is my secret, “Here.” He gives me the package, and looks into my eyes. I try looking away but I couldn’t try harder.

“Happy Birthday.” He whispers, and it sends a shudder to my body. What is the date today?

I open the package, and there it is. A photo frame. It was a leather frame. Black. I am trying not to look at the picture so I distract myself by admiring the leather. And again, I remember Harry. But it is a forced visualization so it doesn’t last longer. I am very much aware of Remus’ presence. I am also getting short of breath now. I look at him and he is already staring at me. I smile at him, but he frowns. And then I frown, too. What is wrong? I saw his hand coming up near my face, and I bat away.

He is gawking at him with wide and horrified eyes, and a hurt expression.

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t…I just—I am sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you don’t. But you eventually do.” It doesn’t come out bitter. He is smiling at me, but he isn’t done talking, “Sirius, I want to talk. It is eating me alive. Sometimes, I don’t think I am left with much longer in me…But, hey,” He reaches out but stops immediately, “Please…I—I want to talk to you about…Everything or anything. We can talk about us?”

“Us?”

“Yeah…If you want to,”

“There is no Us, Remus.”

“There used to be.” I snort, but he is frowning. I hate his frowns. Why can’t he just smile like a normal person?

“Like what? Did we snog? Or shagged once or twice?” I can’t recall any heterosexual experience, so I can’t say I have never done anything with a guy.

“Sirius, was that picture not enough?” He said with such sadness. And then I look at the picture.

And then I see it. There is a younger version of Remus Lupin, wearing a giant grey jumper, sitting on a library’s table. How decent. There is someone in between his legs, standing before him. It is a dark-haired guy, wearing a Gryffindor tie on his hogwarts’ uniform. He has his hands wrapped around Remus’ torso. A thick curtain of his long hair is almost concealing the half of his face, considering how much it is already buried in Remus’ chest. He squeezes gleefully which causes the younger Remus to erupt with laughter. The scene goes back and forth. And then I spot two people sitting in far distance. They were unmistakably James and Lily. They are the only people I recognize. Those two are cackling because how stupidly romantic the two boys are acting against each other. The picture keeps playing, and I focus again on the couple in the spotlight, and I realize that little Remus is trying to press a kiss on the guy’s forehead but the other person doesn’t stand still, constantly whipped his long hair—and then I freeze all of a sudden. Because I see it. The grey eyes, the long hair, and especially the scar on the left wrist, which still glows sliver in the daylight when I secretly stand in the balcony.

“That is us.” It comes out of my mouth even though I never expect myself to say it.

“Yeah, you and me. We were not just each other’s quick snog, or shagging partner. We go way back, Padfoot. Longer than James and Lily.”

“I don’t remember you…” It comes out as a whimper. I feel stupid and vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry for what I did. I never apologized about this…I wanted to—“

“I don’t remember you…”

“—but I never really got a chance. I’m sorry I thought you could betray the Potters. I’m sorry that I kept myself believing for twelve years that it was you. But I swear to Merlin, I never stopped loving you—“

“I don’t remember you, Remus…” But he is not listening.

“—I used to hate myself for this. I felt disgusting that I still loved you. And then I melted myself in filthy thoughts. No one was there to judge me. I used to picture you all the time, sitting on the sofa waiting for me to come back from the muggle job you hated. I used to see you laying on the bed in the night. I used to imagine myself cuddling up with you. And some days, it was so real that we used to talk till dawn. We used to watch the sunrise together. October 31st used to come and go by, and we pretended it was just another Halloween and you used to say ‘Moony, you hate Halloween because some people dress up as werewolves, and you don’t get to wear a costume!’—“

I stop saying anything. I cannot tell that I don’t remember him because I do. His hand accidently rubs shoulder, and I am suddenly yanked to my happiest memory—Harry’s beautiful hands reaching my jacket—and the ‘someone’ is not just someone who is behind me, rubbing my lower back and laying his head against mine, because it was him. It was Remus Lupin. It is still Remus Lupin, I want him to be.

I cannot tell that I don’t remember him because I am starting to…and it’s a start. He keeps telling me how he spent the last twelve years, so I listen to him because my years were not in an open cage just like his. It was scary to be locked up for years and never to see the people you love, but it must have been even scarier to be free for years and never see the people you love. Remus Lupin has suffered too, and I can’t help but be there for him. 

So as he keeps rambling his stories about his undying love for me, I slip into his space, and wrap my arms around his torso, like I had in the picture, and bury my face into his chest. He is not warmer as he must have been in that picture but it calms me down because his heart is beating against mine, and I am happy to have him alive with me.

Thanks for reading! Stay magical!

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #post-azkaban sirius #second wizarding war #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #SIRIUSxREMUS #hogwarts #Harry Potter #harry and sirius #James Potter #Lily Potter #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #fuck dumbledore #hp marauders

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au! 

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

#willex #jatp #willex fic #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie jatp #willie nolastname #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #ray molina #willow writes #ytotbts #you’re the one that brings the sun

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe. 

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #Calum Hood smut adjacent #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #h writes #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #gender netural reader

[fatefulfaerie]

A Century Apart Part 1/2

Kakariko without the stench of blood in the air was frankly sickening to Zelda’s lungs. 

She had trouble breathing in the air that took so long to clear, that had forgotten the war of a century prior, that was normal to an entire country of people that had become accustomed to a post-apocalyptic Hyrule. 

When she had first arrived here, Link draped as best as she could manage over his horse, she was frankly overwhelmed with nausea, some of it due to her worry at Link collapsing moments after an unanswered question, some of it due to the blood caked on his tunic, and some of it due to her terrible, terrible, stomach twisting guilt for making it here alive. 

It was night now, and the twelve hours that Link spent recuperating in his slumber had felt to Zelda like an entire week. She tossed around a circular slice of orange carrot as she sat with worry twinging her heart. Normally sitting on the floor to eat as the Sheikah were accustomed to would have made her back hurt, but she paid little mind to her back.

Impa cleared her throat, and so Zelda looked up and across the table. The noise was so familiar that she almost expected to see the Impa she knew, in her twenties and incredibly agile.

Yet this Impa had eyes that had aged, eyes that had faded from a red as bright as cranberries to a hazel, a common side effect of Sheikah aging.

“You’ve hardly touched your food,” Impa said, wrinkles and all, her face more spotted and much more round nowadays. “I know the carrots aren’t your absolute favorite but you always used to love when I made Seafood Rice Balls.”

Zelda nodded, and faked a small smile, although it came off as a simple pursing of her lips.

“Yeah, I…I remember,” she muttered quietly as she tore away her glance, looking back down at her plate. The scientist within her knew that she was, in fact, hungry and needed food to sustain herself, yet the princess with her wasn’t quite ready for such indulgence, for such luxury. 

She began with a carrot.

It was soft, obviously well-cooked as her teeth bit upon food for the first time in a hundred years. It was buttered and salted and spiced with something she didn’t recognize, something they wouldn’t have typically served at the castle.

She almost forgot how to swallow as the chewed-up orange mush threatened to trail down her throat, but she gulped the single slice of carrot down nonetheless. 

It felt strange, eating, and it felt strange that it felt strange.

She could tell Impa was watching her eat, especially as she dove the chopsticks into the Rice Balls that, over a hundred years, she forgot she missed.

“When was the last time Link was in Kakariko?” Zelda asked, reacquainting herself with the texture and taste of the white rice, the seasoned fish on top of it, the leafy seaweed around it. She didn’t dare to meet Impa’s glance.

“About a week ago,” Impa said. “He came to restock, as he does occasionally. It wasn’t a long visit, though. I suppose he had places to be.”

Zelda nodded, using the cloth napkin on her lap to wipe away any stray particles of food from her mouth. It was almost an instinct, the way she was trained to always be proper, the way her back was straight were she sat, the way she refused to let herself be and just put her elbows on the table. Paya obviously had no problem with it when she ate earlier. Zelda envied her casual manner, living decades upon decades away from a kingdom.

Zelda didn’t expect Impa to reach out and grab her hand, and thus she almost ripped her hand away she was so unaccustomed to it. Zelda looked up.

“He is going to be okay,” Impa insisted slowly and calmly with eyes aged with wisdom. Zelda had no choicest to truly trust them. “He pushed himself very hard to save Hyrule and to bring you back. I would wager he hasn’t slept in days…and the injuries he ignored, well, it’s about time they caught up to him.”

“S-sorry to interrupt,” Paya stammered. Zelda didn’t even hear her come back down the stairs. “It…it’s Link.”

“What’s wrong?” Zelda asked standing up completely panicked. “Is he okay?”

“Oh gosh I shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” Paya said. “He’s fine, he’s just stirring. You said you wanted to be there when he woke up?”

“Yes,” Zelda said, nodding, her hand lightly fisted at her chest. “Y-yes, of course. Please lead the way.”

He didn’t look any different when Zelda finished the last steps of the stairs, Link coming into view. His face was still terribly scratched up and bruised. The only difference now was that Paya had-and she would have to ask later how a Sheikah could be so stealthy as to wrap a person’s chest without waking them up-dressed Link in bandages to brace his broken ribs. There was a fair amount of blood on the bed from the gash on his leg, but it seemed to be well-sewn up now, the wound cleaned and covered with a fresh bandage. There was also a half-empty bottle of a familiar dark purple elixir, a common painkiller among Hylians. Zelda used to use it for headaches.

She could she the way his blue eyes had begun to shine through eyelids. The room was dark, lighted only with candles that smelled of lavender and honey. It seemed so long ago that they had brought Link in, Zelda suggesting they keep the main lanterns in the room doused so that Link could perhaps sleep sounder.

“Link?” She asked as she stepped forward, the combination of her lack of stealth and her thin brown sandals making the wooden floor creak.

She knelt at his bedside and repeated her query.

“Link,” she said. It was now a whisper, like she was pretending to be the lover she never was to him.

The fatigued hero hummed as he blinked open his eyes lethargically.

“Zelda,” he said, softly in his half-awake state with a small smile. The former princess assumed it was because he knew of her presence before his head rolled over to her and he flipped out with wide eyes. It was as if someone had put smelling salt underneath his nose, the way he bolted upright.

“P-princess! I…” Zelda watched with equal parts awe and glee as he ignored the extremely likely pain in his ribs to fix his messy bedhead. Not to say he was in any way successful. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Link,” Zelda said, in such a soothing way that Link froze immediately. It may have also been because she placed a hand on his cheek. Zelda gently guided him back down to lay on the pillow.

“You look fine,” she assured him. “And you are in no condition to do anything but rest.”

Link’s icy blue eyes pleaded for something Zelda couldn’t place. They looked at her, studied her in a way Zelda wasn’t used to.

“Princess, I…” he began, but his words faltered, as if his intended sentence just walked off a cliff, accidentally ran out of room on the ledge and was now falling and forgotten. “I would like to call you Zelda,” he finally said. “Is that all right?”

Zelda nodded, and had to keep from tearing up.

“Yes,” she said, water making her green eyes shine like emeralds. “I would actually prefer that.”

It looked as if Link had something else to say, and yet he hesitated with a hitched breath. Zelda hesitated too, not what to say, but whether or not it was fair to reveal that she could read him like a book. It was a byproduct of their time together a hundred years ago, a time he may not have any recollection of at all, a time he may even be scared of. It was for those reasons that she demonstrated her patience instead, taking his hand and fooling herself that she was conveying her care with her eyes.

“I remember you, by the way,” Link said.

Zelda shifted slightly. There were so many memories between them and so many things that could be assumed between the memories that she couldn’t help but fear what story he had construed.

“I remember you not liking me,” Link continued, Zelda sighing, opening and closing her eyes with a slight cringe. Of all the things for him to remember. 

But he didn’t stop there.

“I remember you warming up to me and us becoming friends…at least I think.”

Zelda had looked down at her hand, the way her thumb ran up and down his palm.

“Do you remember anything else?” Zelda asked, tilting up her head. Link seemed genuinely out of answers and that’s what broke her heart the most.

“Is there something I should remember?” Link asked. Zelda shook her head.

“No,” Zelda said quietly, detaching her hand from Link’s. “It’s nothing of consequence.”

She moved her hand to his forehead, brushing aside a lock of his dirty blonde bangs. 

“I’m glad you’re recovering well, Link,” she said softly. “I’ll leave you to your rest. We can talk more later if you’d like.”

She stood up to leave but didn’t get far, Link’s hand grabbing her wrist and seizing her heart.

“Wait,” was the word he spoke to explain himself. Zelda turned her head to look over her shoulder. She couldn’t help but be surprised that Link had indeed, meant to grab her, was entreating her with those soulful blue eyes, deep as an ocean and filled to the brim with conflicting emotions.

“There’s more to it than what I remember,” he said. “There’s…well there’s how those memories make me feel.”

“What do you mean?” Zelda said, turning her body but refusing to kneel at his bedside, her cautious heart already shattered enough to not risk being broken even more.

“Whenever I remembered something that happened between us,” Link began. “I would try to draw you, would try to capture your beauty, but the image of you was always fleeting. Sometimes I forgot whether your hair was truly blonde, whether your eyes were brown or green, whether or not freckles dotted upon your nose, your cheeks, what the shape of your face was. But each time I tried to draw you I felt like I was getting both closer to and farther away from perfection.”

“Link,” Zelda said as she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t either at first,” Link continued. “I didn’t understand why I was so enthralled by your beauty, why the sound of your voice twinged my heart, why the thought of your touch made me feel the warmth of my blood.” 

Zelda knew what he was describing, and she knew it well. It was for that reason that she couldn’t believe his words, that she searched within her lungs for the ability to breathe.

“Link,” she said breathlessly, finally kneeling down. “A-are you saying…?

She couldn’t even finish her question but Link nodded nonetheless.

“Once I realized it was a crush,” he said. “I tried to ignore it, telling myself that nothing in my memories indicated anything more than an obligatory friendship, that it was disrespectful to think in such a way of someone who was royalty, but…” He bit his lip. “No cliff was as easy to descend as the one that dictates love. I fell quickly and I fell fast. It felt familiar too, like something was in ruins inside me but this time, it was simple to salvage, to rebuild and to…” Link chuckled. “I can’t think of another word.”

Zelda was speechless, her mouth slightly parted and her eyes frozen. Link didn’t expect his declaration of love to be so paralyzing.

“I-I guess I,” Link said, continuing in the absence of Zelda’s words. “I kind of got the feeling that you also have similar…” Link looked for another word, but it didn’t exist in his brain “…feelings…” He inwardly cringed. “So I figured I would bring up the subject...but maybe I...shouldn’t...have?”

Zelda was quiet, almost too quiet, before she stood and finally said five words, five words that left Link in the dust of such an anticlimactic response.

“You never talked this much,” she said, before shooting him with green eyes filled with conflict and pity and turning around to walk back down the stairs.

#zelink #botw #breath of the wild #you ever write something and think it's really good #and then you read it and you realize it's actually crap #well that's happened #I felt like I was finally back as the fatefulfaerie you know and love #but alas #I'll write a part two if you guys like this #not like as in physically like but #you get the gist

[lennonknowsmysins]

insomnia (modern!roommate!au)

beatle: john lennon

summary: ever since quarantine started, you’ve had trouble sleeping. every night is the same pattern of nonstop thoughts that keep you up. just when you’ve given up, john, one of your roommates, stumbles in to help you. (can be read as platonic or romantic)

warnings: insomnia, quarantine

a/n: i don’t think that anxiety induced insomnia is an official term but it’s definitely a thing, yee haw. this is a total comfort fic. 

Your eyes were glued to the television screen, mindlessly listening to the buzz of Animanics. Your eyelids felt so heavy, yet they refused to stay shut. 

It had been like this since quarantine started. All your nights had been sleepless, tossing and turning until you maybe got an hour or two. Usually you went through four phrases; you laid and waited for sleep you knew wasn’t coming, then you started to convince yourself you were hearing noises and seeing shapes which lead you to get on your phone to distract you which lead you to digging up old memories until you were crying and listening to your playlist from freshman year of high school, and then you were back to phase one. 

Tonight you’d decided to skip out on the crying stage once you’d worked up enough courage to grab your phone. You figured it might help if you didn’t stay in your bed, it was started to feel more like a cage. So you’d drug yourself to the living room, curled up on the couch and turned on the first show that didn’t look terrifying, which had been Animanics. You’d had to smile, this was George’s Hulu account and the cartoon had been under his ‘continue watching’ file. 

A muffled thud made you freeze. You stared down the hall, in the direction that it came from and let out a breath when John stumbled out of his bedroom, eyes half closed. You started thinking of an excuse for why you were still awake and watching cartoons but John was either really tired, really focused or more blind than he cared to let on because he walked right by you, making a beeline for the bathroom. You assumed this was what it was like to catch a bat in action. Well, if bat’s wore pinstriped boxers. 

You shrugged, turning your attention back to the screen just in time to catch the pigeons getting into another scruff. 

The bathroom door opened, briefing flooding the living room with yellow light. John came back out with his glasses, seemingly much more aware of his surroundings. He was rarely caught dead in them but you thought the thick frames looked really nice on him, they were very classy. Like Buddy Holly’s, he explained to you. 

He finally noticed that the television was on, though he didn’t catch you. He must’ve thought that someone had left it on by accident, as he sighed and reached for the remote on the coffee table. 

“I’m watching that.” You mumbled. John’s head whipped up and he squinted at you at the end of the couch. 

“(y/n)? Whatcha still doin’ up, kid?”

“Can’t sleep. What about you?” You asked dumbly. You just weren’t in the mood to talk about your sleeping problem. 

“Had to take a piss.” He responded nonchalantly, settling on the other side of the couch. You giggled at him, making him look over at you, your gaze back on the cartoon. “You know, you’re probably not able to sleep ‘cause you stayed up till midnight.”

“I stayed up that late because I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep.” You admitted flatly. John studied you for a moment. Even though you were curled into a ball position, he could tell that your body was tired. He could tell that you were tired. 

“C’mere then. Let’s have a snuggle.”

You looked up at him, your lips quirked. He had his arm stretched you, his eyebrows raised. You grinned, crawling over to him and curling into his side, resting your head on his chest. He patted your bare knee and tutted. 

“No blanket and teeny little shorts, you’ll freeze.” He scolded playfully, reaching behind you to grab the blanket that hung over the couch, “I swear child, you’ll be the death of me. Or worse, you’ll turn me into me aunt.”

He draped the blanket across the two of you - though he made sure that you were completely covered before indulging himself. It was handmade, the yellow fabric once stiff but now incredibly soft from years of loving wear. You’d loved it since you’d moved in, something about it made you feel oddly domestic, especially now with John’s arm wrapped around you. 

“And that’s the facts,” You sang along quiet with the end of Animanics theme.

“Didn’t know you were an Animanics fan.” John commented, absentmindedly combing his hands through your hair. 

You leaned into him, humming, “Haven’t watched a whole lot of it but it was the first thing that popped up on George’s Hulu and I thought it looked cute.”

“I forgot Georgie likes this show.” John muttered, nodding his head. 

The two of you watched in comfortable silence, chuckling every so often. It was nice to have company after so many lonely, sleepless nights. John made you feel warm. Not at all like how the blankets on your bed made you feel like you were in an oven. No, John made you feel warm and comfortable. 

“How long have you had trouble sleeping?” John asked, careful not to sound too pushy. You sighed. You supposed you couldn’t keep up the front forever. 

“Since March. I mean, I’ve had trouble with it before but now it’s like I can barely shut my eyes without a melatonin.”

John’s heart sunk at how miserable your voice sounded. You’d been struggling with this for a month by yourself. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t noticed how exhausted you were. He would have bought you all the Camille tea and Tylenol PM you needed if he’d known. “Have you talked to anyone else about it?”

You shook your head, “I didn’t want you guys to worry or anything. Figured I’d find a cure or something on the internet.”

“Oh baby, you can worry us all you like.” John assured you, squeezing your shoulder, “Look, we’ll help you find something to help, George has always got some sort of plant or hippie shit to help.”

“But I’ve tried everything!” You lamented, sitting up, “Nothing’s working, everything just makes me more nervous.”

John rested a hand on your back, “Love, we’ll find something. You’ve probably got anxiety induced insomnia. It can be caused by sudden changes in lifestyle so it could be caused by quarantine.”

“Anxiety induced insomnia? That’s a big term.” You teased, wrapping your arms around your knees. He flashed you a cheesy grin. 

“I saw a Twitter thread about it.” He shrugged cheekily. You sighed and leaned back against him. You put your head on his shoulder, prompting him to rest his head on your’s. 

“It’s just so frustrating. I just wanna sleep.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, flattening back your hair. You’d never seen this side of John. Since you started living with the boys, he had never struck you as the snuggle type but you weren’t complaining. 

“You will sleep. Even if you don’t, I’ll be right here the whole time. It’ll be okay.”

You curled further into his touch. He started to adjust his position, swinging his legs up on the couch with a groan so that he was reclining against the couch pillow and you were laying on top of him. 

He patted your back, “We’ll call the doctor in the morning, see if we can get you an appointment.”

John was warm, you thought once more. Warm and inviting. Being this close to him felt right, he felt right. He was safe, he could keep away those terrible shadowy figures that you were convinced were stalking around the corners of your room. He could distract you from wasting away the early hours on your phone. He could help you sleep. 

Your eyes started to feel heavy again but this time, it wasn’t a hopeless heavy. Slowly, finally, you began to drift off to sleep. 

#modern!au #roommate!au #quarantine #john lennon x reader #john lennon #beatles x reader #the beatles x reader #beatle belle

[writingsforanyone]

Forgotten Fling 2/7

Pairing: Y/N x Brett Talbot

Warnings: Guns

A/N: found this in my notes and realized i never continued this story, so i figured now is as good of a time as any! this is going to be slightly slowburn so there will be more parts!

++++++++++++++++++++++

“Y/N”

“Y/N!!”

You bolted upright, startled awake by your little brother Liam. You looked around and noticed you were in the some clothes from last night, with your essay notes and textbooks spread around you on the bed.

“What? What is it?” you said.

“We have to be at school in 20 minutes,” Liam said, before rushing out of your room.

You took a minute to recall the events from yesterday: school, the lacrosse game, your essay, Brett. Seeing Brett get off the bus, at the game, and most importantly: helping him at the clinic. You shook yourself back into reality and bolted into your bathroom. You looked into the mirror and saw your red face and puffy eyes, messy bun in your hair that you definitely forgot to wash last night. In simpler words: You looked terrible. After getting home from the clinic, you laid on top of your bed, and cried for hours ; homework long forgotten. You must’ve eventually fallen asleep and forgot to set your alarm, because the last thing you remember is recalling all of your memories with Brett.

You shook yourself back into reality, again, and kicked it into high gear. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, attempted to brush your hair, before throwing it into a slightly neater messy bun than before, and stripped out of your dirty clothes. You found the closest pair of clean leggings you could find, and a random crewneck from your closet. Finally, you went over to your bed and shoved all of your work from the night before into your bag and shoved your shoes on. You grabbed your keys and your phone and raced down the stairs.

“Finally! What took you so long?” Liam said.

You looked over and saw him sitting at the kitchen table, empty plate in front him.

“In case you forgot, I had kind of a rough night last night. Now let’s go, we have like 5 minutes to get to school.”

Considering you and Liam didn’t live far from the school, you didn’t have to speed too much to get there. After a silent car ride, you pulled into the parking lot just was the first bell was ringing. You both hurried into the school, halfheartedly saying goodbye to each other and heading to your respective classes. You slid into your English class just as the final bell rang and hurried over to your seat next to Lydia. She gave you a confused look to which you shook your head and faced the front.

At the end of class, you and Lydia walked out and started heading to your lockers, when she suddenly stopped you and stepped directly in front of you.

“Okay, what’s up with you? You’re never late to school, and you look sickly. Spill it.” she said.

“Is Brett on the deadpool?” you asked, ignoring her other comments.

“What?”

“Lydia, come on. I know you broke the second third of the list. Is he on it?”

“Yes.”

“How much is he worth?”

Lydia hesitated and took a deep breath, before saying, “1 million.”

You sucked in a breath. You weren’t surprised by her answers, but you definitely weren’t expecting your stomach to drop when she said it. The question had been in your head since the night before, and was a majority of the reason you had trouble sleeping.

“Okay. Thanks,” you said, turning around without a second glance, ignoring Lydia’s calls for you. You didn’t know why you were so upset when she told you. You knew Brett was a werewolf, so why wouldn’t he be on the deadpool? The bigger question: Why were you so worried about him?

—————————

Over the next week, you struggled with yourself over what was going on in your head. You were over Brett, right? He made you choose between him and your little brother. The two of you were never even together in the first place. It was just a fling, and occasional hookup, right?

Lydia spent the week trying to get you to talk about it and get it off of your chest, while Liam spent his time talking about how much he hated Brett. You, on the other hand, wanted to forget about it and focus on the more important thing at hand, the deadpool. Since you didn’t have any supernatural abilities, you practiced the one thing you knew you could do to help: shooting a gun.

Your stepfather taught you how to shoot a gun when you were younger, but you never really took a big interest in them until you found out about the supernatural. You knew you had to have a way to protect yourself, and the ones you cared about, so you practiced. At first, you would go with your stepdad to the gun range as often as possible, but with his schedule as a doctor, picking out a specific time was hard. That’s when Scott introduced you to Braeden. Braeden helped you learn more about shooting a gun in the first week than you had ever known. Now, months later, if you weren’t helping the pack figure out who the Benefactor was, you were with Braeden. Shooting helped you get your mind off of everything going on, especially you conflicted thoughts about Brett.

“Are you picking me up from practice?” Liam asked as you were walking out of the high school at the end of the day.

“No, I’ve got plans. Can Scott take you?”

“I’ll ask him. What are you even doing anyway? You’ve barely been home all week.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, okay?” you said as you walked over to your car, leaving Liam to wonder where you were off to. You hadn’t told Liam that you had been spending most of your time either at the range or with Braeden, but you weren’t sure why. Scott and Lydia both knew, but you made them promise not to tell Liam. Regardless, you got in your car and threw your bag into the passenger side, before heading off towards the range where you were meeting Braden.

As you pulled into the parking lot, you saw Braeden leaning against her car.

“Hey Y/N, you ready to do this?”

“I always am,” you replied while getting out of your car.

The two of you headed in and immediately got to work, you practicing with your favorite weapon: a Glock 19. According to California laws, you weren’t old enough to carry a firearm, but due to the circumstances, Braeden gave you one. You hadn’t had the need to use it yet, but it was more so a safety precaution incase you ever did need to.

_____________________

You had no idea how much time had passed since you got to the range, but Braeden was long gone when you got a call from Scott.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey Y/N, are you still at the range?” Scott rushed out.

“Yeah, why?”

“Look, normally i wouldn’t have called you for this, but I figured you’d want to know. Kira is on her way to the school. Brett and his sister are in trouble.”

“I’m on my w-,” you started to say, before Scott cut you off.

“Be careful okay? We don’t know what these people are capable of,” he said.

“I can handle myself Scott. I’ll let you know what happens,” you said, before hanging up the phone. You grabbed all of your belongings as quickly as you could before running out of the building and to your car. At this point it was pouring down rain, and you struggled to see as you drove to the school for the second time that day. You had no idea who you were up against, or what they were doing, all you knew is that Brett was in trouble, and you were not about to let him be the next casualty of the deadpool. You spotted Kira getting out of her car as soon as you pulled into the parking lot, and you didn’t even bother to park in a spot before stopping the car and turning it off. You looked over at the gun and the extra magazines laying in your passenger seat, debating if you should bring them or not. You grabbed them before you could change your mind, and got out of the car and ran over to Kira.

“Did Scott call you?” she yelled at you over the rain.

“Yeah he figured I’d want to be here. Any idea where they are?” you asked. Just as she was about to answer, you saw one of the stadium light on the lacrosse field come on, and the both of you took off in that direction. By the time you reached the field, all of the lights had come on, Kira and yourself were soaked from the rain, and you spotted Brett and Lori standing in the middle of the field. You also spotted the multiple assassins at the other end of the field, all with different weapons aiming for the chests of the young werewolves. Kira broke off in a sprint, you right on her heels, to the middle of the field. One of the assassins shot an arrow, and Kira was able to get to it and slice it in half just before it would have come into connect with Brett’s chest. You pulled your gun out of the back of your waistband, before you and Kira both turned to the siblings and yelled,

“Run!”

Both Brett and Lori opened their eyes and saw the two of you. You made eye contact with Brett, and when he didn’t move, you yelled at him again,

“Brett, get out of here! Take Lori and get to Deaton’s clinic!”

Brett hesitated, but upon seeing Kira slice another arrow in half, and the gun in your hand, he took off with Lori. At this point you had turned your attention towards the assassins that were shooting at you and Kira left and right. You struggled to see in the rain, but you aimed for the legs and started shooting. You didn’t want to kill anyone, you just wanted them to stop shooting and leave. You hit one of the men in the leg, and that’s when they took off. You looked over at Kira to see her breathing hard, you doing the same.

“Come on let go. We can call Scott on the way,” Kira said, grabbing your arm before the two of you ran to your cars. Kira agreed to call Scott on the way, and the both of you headed to the veterinary clinic. As you were driving, you took into account everything that just happened, and realized that the adrenaline had to have accounted for most of it.

“I just shot someone,” you thought, suddenly feeling like you were going to throw up.

“I just shot someone, who was trying to assassinate the boy I’m in love with,” you thought again. You didn’t realize that you had started to cry at the possibility of Brett almost dying, once again. This was the first time since seeing Brett get off of the bus, that you admitted to yourself that you still loved him. By this point, you had arrived at the clinic, and you saw that Kira was already walking in the door. You took a minute to compose yourself, wiping the tears off of your face. you turned off the ignition and went into the clinic, not expecting to see Brett’s entire pack, including his Alpha, in the back. You avoided eye contact with him and made your way over to Deaton, who was talking to Kira about what happened.

“Who’s idea was it to bring them here?” he asked.

“Mine. This was the first place i thought off, but I didn’t realize there was this many people in the pack,” You answered.

“Well, I’d say it was a good idea to bring them here. Has anyone called Scott?” Deaton asked again.

“I called him on the way over here. Liam’s with him,” Kira said, looking over at you. You realized now was as good of a time as any to tell your brother what you had been up too, since he would probably have found out eventually. Just then, you heard the bell over the front door sound, and you and Kira both ran out to see the boys. You ran too Liam and crushed him in a hug, while Kira went over to Scott and kissed him.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Liam said sounding worried.

“I’m fine. I’ll explain everything later, I promise,” you said, before looking at Scott and Kira.

“Did you find him? Did you find Brett?” Scott asked.

“Actually, I think we found all of them,” Kira said, before leading the four of you into the back room.

“Satomi, this is who I was telling you about,” Kira said, gesturing to Scott. Satomi nodded and smiled before saying,

“I know who Scott McCall is.”

“Are we safe here?” Lori suddenly asked, looking only at you. When you and Brett were “together,” you had become close with Lori, treating her like your little sister. You looked over at her and smiled, before saying,

“For now, yeah, you’re safe.” You looked over at Brett for the first time since you were on the lacrosse field, and you just barely caught the soft smiled on his lips. You wanted to look away, to look anywhere besides him, but you couldn’t. Brett was having the same problem. He wanted to break the eye contact, but he couldn’t either. Unbeknownst to the other one, memories of the two of you flooded both of your minds. Memories of when the two of you were happy together kept playing in your mind, and you didn’t want them to stop. It just seemed like everything around the both of you stopped, like you and Brett were the only two in the room, until,

“We’re gonna need help. A lot of help,” Scott said. You ripped your eyes away from Brett’s and looked over the Scott, before saying,

“I’ll call Braeden. You call Argent.” With that, you spun on your heel and headed outside, where it was still raining, but not quite as hard. The whole eye contact thing with Brett made you feel like you were going to throw up for the second time that night, but this time, you actually did it. You ran to the back of the building and threw up, all of the events of the night finally catching up to you: Saving Brett and Lori, the assassins, shooting someone. When you were done, you moved to lean on the side of the building, letting the rain hit you and calm you down. You were crying again, and you realized that you seemed to be crying a lot these days, something you never used to do. You hated crying because it made you feel weak.

Preoccupied with your thoughts, you didn’t hear Liam come up beside and you and ask if you were okay. You jumped at the sound of his voice, before saying,

“I need to tell you something. A lot of things actually.”

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #brett talbot imagines #brett talbot imagine #brett talbot #scott mccal imagine #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey #deadpool #tumblr #imagines #imagine

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part three

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

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***

Luna’s Great Escape

It’s been two days since Ryan last saw Harry in her doorway, and she’s grateful for the rainstorm that’s been plaguing north central London ever since he left her heart racing that afternoon. The rain hasn’t stopped roaring, presumably ruining Jackson’s playtime in the park, allowing Ryan a short period of time to catch her breath.

She’s spent the past two days in a bit of a drunken stupor. After Harry uttered those words to her in the hallway before entering his own flat, Ryan ripped open the parcel and finished her work for the day, sending over her inspections and adjustments to her supervisor in a daze before the clock struck five. Afterward, she tore off her flannel pajama bottoms and shoved them into the depths of her drawer to hopefully never be seen again, traipsing into her bathroom to turn the tub on, a few bottles of Carlsberg nestled tightly under her armpit.

It’s not that Ryan was avoiding her feelings, because she truly didn’t understand them. After two beers, she came to the conclusion that the bubbling in her gut and the warmth on her cheeks, the fluttering of her heart and the pinch in her breath—was all due to the fact that she found Harry annoyingly attractive.

Ryan’s no stranger to attractive men. Her awkwardness practically disappears after a few shots of tequila have settled into her bloodstream, allowing her to hold a conversation with a handsome man without the overwhelming urge to stutter over her words or shift in her heeled boots from nervousness. Most times, in her debilitated state, she’s gotten lucky with a quick shag and a fumbling exit hidden under the darkness of the night. But now, as she sits in her bathtub nursing her fourth beer, a Kiehl’s face mask hardened over her skin, she’s not sure how much alcohol she would need to consume in order to appear seemingly normal in front of Harry.

That was last night. Now, as her hangover starts to settle in, Ryan’s decided that she needs advice. The brutally honest kind that usually fell unapologetically from the lips of her best mate Fiona. 

“So let me get this straight, your new neighbor just so happens to be fit as all hell, and you’ve had a handful of conversations with him without making a complete fool of yourself, and you still haven’t shagged him? What am I missing here, Ry?” Fiona’s voice calls out from Ryan’s mobile that’s leaning against her porcelain fruit bowl, the camera angle allowing her to be able to see Fiona while attempting to cook some sort of pasta dish to cure the throbbing in her head.

“Fee, I got fucking rug burn on my knee from tripping over my own bloody feet the first time I met him!” Ryan recalls, the memory causing her head to shake aggressively, trying her hardest to expel it from her brain.

“Well, I did say complete fool,” Fiona retorts, causing Ryan to roll her eyes as she tries her hardest to follow the vodka sauce recipe she found on Pinterest. She’s eyeing the heavy cream she just added to the saucepan, wondering if the color should be pinker.

“I think it’s for the best if I just continue avoiding him for the rest of my life,” Ryan says, opening the box of ziti and throwing it into the boiling pot on the back left burner. 

She can hear Fiona laugh over the hiss of the water. “Stop with the dramatics! You’re starting to sound like me.”

Ryan just ignores her friend, stirring the sauce that’s starting to smell. She instantly reaches for the parmesan cheese, adding more aimlessly to change the viscosity into something that doesn’t resemble broth. 

“This could be great for you, Ry,” Fiona says through the screen once Ryan’s reappeared in front of her.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asks, a bit distracted with the way the saucepan on the hob begins to gurgle inconspicuously.

“Because he’s fit. And he literally lives right next door. This is fantastic news! You can get laid without even leaving your building! Especially during quarantine with the entire city on lockdown!” While Ryan loves her friend, she hates the way Fiona says certain words, her voice level rising with each stressed syllable. She’s speaking so loudly that Ryan thinks back to how Harry referred to hearing Mrs. Bingsley banging about in the kitchen when she used to live in this unit, and immediately Ryan lowers the volume on her mobile, grabbing it from its spot against the fruit bowl and turning into her living room to be as far away from the thin walls as possible.

“I’m not sleeping with him, Fiona. I literally just met him,” Ryan says, sitting on the arm rail of her couch, watching Luna in her periphery continue sleeping soundly against the throw pillows. 

“But you want to.”

Ryan stays silent, wondering if that’s what the bubbling and fluttering and pinching of all her insides means. Wondering if all of these feelings can simply be associated to sexual attraction.

“Why don’t you knock on his door and ask for a plunger or something?” Fiona says, breaking the silence. Ryan instantly disagrees, her eyes widening in fear.

“No, that’s a terrible idea! I don’t want him to think I’ve clogged up my fucking toilet,” Ryan shrieks, knowing that move would definitely work on a girl like Fiona—confident, unrelenting, and fearless. But for a girl like Ryan, whose cheeks turn red whenever a boy like Harry even looks in her direction, she knows there’s no way she can handle that.

Fiona sighs. “You’re probably right.” 

Before Ryan can respond, the blaring sound of the smoke detector going off from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts. “Shit!” she screeches, jumping up from her seated position and running into the kitchen, her mobile clutched in her fist as she approaches the stovetop. The saucepan with the once pinkish-red sauce has now turned black, the edges burnt to a crisp, smoke rising from the top because Ryan forgot to lower the heat to a simmer. The pot with the pasta has boiled over, water falling onto the burner with a loud fizzle. “Fuck!”

“Christ, Ryan! Only you can burn fucking pasta!” Fiona shouts through her mobile, and Ryan immediately discards the device on the countertop, flicking the burners off. She reaches for the dishtowel near the sink, waving it under the smoke detector to make the incessant noise cease.

“It won’t fucking stop!” Ryan bellows, switching the towel to her left arm. If Harry didn’t hear her before, he definitely heard her now, and the thought is enough to make her wave her arms frantically, praying for the smoke detector to shut off.

“Open the front door, get some airflow in the flat, you twit! Twenty-seven and still can’t cook a bloody meal, it’s a shock how you’ve survived this long on your own—”

Ryan doesn’t stay in the kitchen long enough to hear the rest of Fiona’s comment. Instead, she’s spinning on her heels towards her front door, opening it up partly in hope to get the smell of burnt food out of her flat.

Just as she walks back into the kitchen, the beeping finally stops, and Ryan feels as if she can finally breathe again. Her cheeks are stained red from the exertion of flailing her arms about, the stray hairs from her low ponytail sticking to the nape of her neck uncomfortably. She takes in the state of her kitchen, annoyed with herself that she got too preoccupied with Fiona’s ramblings instead of focusing on cooking her pathetic meal.

“Have you died?” The sound echoes from the countertop where Ryan left her mobile, and for a moment Ryan forgets that Fiona was waiting for her. She saunters over slowly, leaning her mobile on the toaster oven so that she can rest her bent elbows on the countertop, her hands falling over her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Knew I should’ve gone with the boxed mac and cheese,” Ryan mumbles, catching her breath.

Fiona laughs. “I appreciate the attempt, Jamie Oliver. You’ve probably scared Luna half to death, poor thing.” 

At the mention of her kitten’s name, Ryan immediately swivels her head around to the living room, eyes falling to the spot on the couch her white British Shorthair was just occupying. But when she looks closer, she realizes that Luna is gone.

She quickly stands up straight, telling Fiona she’ll call her back before ending the FaceTime call, entering the living room to search every nook and cranny for her kitten. Luna’s small body is nowhere near the couch or armchairs, her cat tree is empty, and when Ryan takes a look in her bedroom and finds absolutely nothing, she’s suddenly filled with fear at the fact that her kitten has disappeared.

Before Ryan can have a full-blown meltdown at the loss of her meal and kitten in the span of ten minutes, she hears the faint echo of a meow from the other side of her front door. A tiny giggle follows after, and suddenly Ryan’s head is peering out into the hallway, falling on the sight of Luna laying on the carpet with her tummy up in the air, and Jackson’s small hands rubbing soothing circles in her fur.

“What would your dad say about you leaving the flat without him?” Ryan calls out from her doorframe, watching the way Jackson’s face lights up when he realizes it is her speaking to him.

“Daddy will probably be mad. But I heard the kitty outside when I was playing! I didn’t know you had one!” He’s smiling so wide it causes Ryan to immediately do the same, despite her borderline breakdown a few moments prior. She trots over towards the pair, crouching down in front of them and balancing on the heels of her socked-clad heels, watching the way Luna purrs at Jackson’s soft strokes.

“I do. This is Luna,” Ryan answers, grinning when Jackson begins cooing at the tiny animal.

“Hi Luna, I’m Jackson. You’re so soft.” He’s whispering to her and Ryan isn’t quite sure why, and when Luna suddenly flips over and sits on Jackson’s lap, Ryan feels her heart swell at the sight of two tiny things cuddling up to one another.

The silence is broken by a gruff, frustrated voice. “Jackson! You can’t keep runnin’ off—oh.”

Three pairs of different colored eyes look up at the intrusion, and suddenly Harry’s anger dissipates at the sight of his son holding a cute kitten in his lap. A cute kitten that just so happens to belong to his even cuter neighbor who he seemingly can’t stop thinking about.

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at. 

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

Ryan just smiles shyly, swallowing harshly when Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, his large palms cupping his bulging biceps under the thin material of his shirt. She coughs into her fist, realizing now that she probably should stand up from her crouched position so that she’s no longer staring up at him underneath the cover of her eyelashes.

“Daddy look! Ryan has a kitty!” Jackson squeals, his cheek squished against Luna’s tiny face as he pets behind her ears, causing her whole body to vibrate with a deep purr.

Harry looks between Luna and Ryan, that slow smirk grazing his lips that causes Ryan’s cheeks to burn with a deep blush. “I can see that, Bubs.” His voice is so deep Ryan can feel it settle into her bones, and suddenly she wishes her hair wasn’t tied behind her head in a ponytail so that she could hide her reddened cheeks under the deep brown tendrils. 

Before she can speak, a loud whistle from Harry’s flat breaks the silence. His upper body shifts away from the doorframe so that he’s standing straight, arms falling back to his sides as he peers behind the entranceway to ensure that the steam is blowing from the spout of the kettle on the hob.

“Fancy some tea, Ryan?” Harry asks once he’s turned back in her direction. 

Ryan quickly stumbles to stand upright, wiping her sweaty palms on her cotton biker shorts. An oversized band tee she stole from her ex-boyfriend swishes with her hasty movements, and she can feel her head shaking before her mouth can say no.

“Uh, I’m okay. Don’t want to impose or anything,” she stutters, the sound of her thick woolen mid-calf socks scuffling against the carpeting with her incessant shuffling due to the influx of nerves that begin creeping up her spine.

“Please, Ryan? I can play with Luna! I’m a great sitter,” Jackson proclaims loudly from his seated position behind her. Once again, Ryan finds herself struggling to say no to her new friend with just one look into his beady green eyes. With nothing but a small smile, Ryan’s nodding in Jackson’s direction, her grin growing larger when he scoops up Luna in his little arms, ducking past his father and entering the flat.

Harry chuckles, holding the door open a bit wider so that Ryan can follow him inside.

She’s watching as he ducks into the kitchen, shutting off the burner so that the whistling kettle can quiet down. Ryan watches Jackson plop Luna on the soft emerald rug, laying on his stomach so that he can observe her every move. After guaranteeing that her kitten is in good hands, Ryan enters the kitchen, settling on one of the dark leather barstools and watching Harry grab two tea mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

As his arm extends to reach the top shelf, Ryan can’t help but take note of the contrast between his right and left arm. His left arm was ornamented with various black etchings, flowing across his skin in a strange way that somehow looked beautiful. When Ryan watches his right arm reach out to grab the tea bags, the untouched skin practically blinding against the harsh overhead lights, she feels her throat suddenly dry up—and she’s left wondering if she should add this to her growing list of symptoms she feels whenever she’s around Harry.

“Sugar? Milk?” Harry asks, his back still to her as he rummages around the drawers to prepare their tea. 

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the way his thin t-shirt practically hides nothing, the ebb and flow of his back muscles constricting with each gentle movement he makes as he grasps the sugar from the counter and grips the milk from the fridge.

When he turns to meet her at the kitchen island, he clutches both mugs in one hand, the other holding both the sugar jar and milk carton. Ryan’s forced to look away, her mind completely fogging over at the site.

The sound of the ceramic mugs clinking against the granite counter causes Ryan to look up, smiling softly when he pushes the tea in her direction. Just before her hands can clasp around the handle, she regards the black script tattoo above the crook of his elbow, the words Jackson in lowercase lettering make her breath hitch in her throat.

“How have you been, all right?” Harry asks from across the island, reaching for the milk and adding a generous amount to the murky tea. His eyes are busy focusing on the task at hand, and Ryan can finally feel herself calm down a bit.

“Yeah, been okay. You?” she responds, blowing a bit on her tea before bringing the mug to her lips, swallowing deeply and reveling in the taste of the brew. Harry’s eyebrows arch when he notices that she takes her tea black, but he doesn’t make a comment about it, choosing instead to rest his forearms on the counter, pushing his mug a bit closer towards Ryan’s as he leans against the island, infiltrating her personal space just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, okay. Bit shit with the weather, though. Jackson’s been going crazy,” he comments, his mouth far too distracting when he licks the spilled over tea on his lower lip. Ryan flicks her head over in Jackson’s direction, thankful that she can look at something other than Harry’s stupidly good-looking face.

Ryan hums in agreement, bringing the tea back to her lips as she swivels back in her stool, her eyes back on Harry’s. 

“That cat of yours will give him another reason to talk about you for hours,” Harry says with a grin.

“If it weren’t for his knack of sneaking out of your flat, Luna probably would have ended up on the seventh floor. Guess I owe him a proper thank you,” Ryan counters, smiling at the fact that she made Harry laugh.

“Little shit never listens to me,” Harry says lightly, and Ryan suddenly wonders if he has any help looking after Jackson.

She starts to look around the kitchen for any hints of a feminine touch. The state of his flat is disgustingly clean, and when she observes the fridge to see if there are any photographs of Jackson’s mum, she’s found that there’s nothing but artwork most likely done by the hands of a four-year-old.

When she shifts her head to the other side of the room, where the kitchen flows into the living room, she doesn’t really find anything new. The walls are still filled with records, the instruments are still lining the walls, the couch is still void of throw pillows. Ryan tries to visualize the entranceway, trying her hardest to remember if she noticed any heeled boots or women’s jackets on the coat rack.

She hasn’t known Harry long, barely a month at this point, and in that short period of time she’s never heard him speak about a woman before. Ryan’s not stupid—she knows that both sexes are needed to produce a child—but she’s truly never seen a woman enter or exit Harry’s flat.

Granted, it’s only been a month. And she isn’t really sure if she can call him her friend yet, therefore she feels a bit odd in asking. Ryan’s come to the conclusion that maybe Jackson’s mum is an essential worker, a nurse perhaps, a profession in which she has the luxury of leaving her home to go to work.

“Ryan?” Harry’s oaky voice breaks Ryan out of her headspace, and suddenly she’s blinking in Harry’s direction, embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t listening to anything he had just said to her in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” she responds lamely, bringing the mug to her lips with the goal of hiding the lower half of her flushed cheeks.

Harry just laughs, cocking his head to the side to observe her intently. “Doesn’t matter. Lost you for a minute in there.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Ryan responds, wishing Harry would stop looking at her as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to know every little thing about her.

Ryan’s eyes squint in confusion. “Does what happen?”

“That,” Harry starts, taking a sip of his tea without tearing his eyes away from Ryan’s. “You getting lost in your own head.”

Ryan quietly contemplates Harry’s comment, watching the way he watches her with intrigue. As a serial overthinker, Ryan knows that she retreats sometimes, mulling over her words intensely before speaking. Unlike Fiona who blurts every thought that runs through her head, Ryan’s always been more critical, obsessing over every detail before verbalizing. It’s the only thing that helps subdue her social anxiety.

But she’s found that whenever she’s around Harry, she can’t bring herself to think about anything, really. It’s as if her mind is blank, encouraging her to speak what she truly feels, without all the thinking that usually comes along with it.

She’s not quite sure what that all means.

So she just shrugs, sipping softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry nods before changing the subject, which makes Ryan feel relieved. “So, my quiet, reclusive neighbor is also a cat lady? It’s far too fitting, Ryan.” He’s teasing her a bit and it’s enough to make Ryan giggle, the sound practically causing Harry to splutter his tea over the rim of his mug. 

“I’m all about clichés, clearly,” Ryan responds, her eyes zeroing in on the hollow dimples that appear around his mouth whenever he laughs. She finds herself enjoying the sight very much.

“She’s cute,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Luna to the woman sitting across from him. Ryan assumes he’s talking about her kitten, and she smiles, swiveling around in her chair to watch Jackson giggle whenever Luna’s paws graze his arms. But when she feels Harry’s gaze on her cheek, she’s wondering if he’s talking about something else, too.

“He’s good with her,” Ryan acknowledges, impressed with how gentle Jackson was with Luna. Most toddlers his age were too handsy with her, scaring her off before she even got the chance to get used to them. But Jackson is proving to be a natural, allowing Luna to grow comfortable around him before he started playing with her.

Harry finally looks over to his son, smiling at the sight in the living room. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Ryan turns round to face Harry again. “He really is. Guess he has you to thank for that. And his mum, I suppose.”

Harry’s face suddenly loses its grin, and Ryan’s wondering if she’s said too much. His eyes have lost their shine, and the granite countertop seems to be more interesting than Ryan’s face. Before she can say anything, an apology or some version of one, the computer in the corner of the living room begins to ring loudly, causing Harry to stand upright and peer at the clock on the microwave screen.

“Shit. Forgot I had a four o’clock meeting,” he says quickly, gathering his mug in one hand and crossing the threshold so that he’s entering the living room space. Ryan stands up, frowning down at her half-emptied cup of tea, wondering what blend Harry uses because it’s just that good, and she’s a bit sad to leave it unfinished.

Harry turns around, catching the frown on Ryan’s face. “You can finish it at yours if you’d like,” he offers with a small smile. 

“Oh, no it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to—”

“—Ryan,” Harry says, cutting her off and walking towards her so that he’s fully in her line of vision, “It’s fine. ‘S not like I don’t know where you live.” The smirk is back on his face and the blush is back coating Ryan’s cheeks, and suddenly the balance has been restored in their small universe.

Ryan nods, clutching the mug tightly in her hands and side-stepping Harry in order to reach Jackson and Luna on the living room floor. “‘M sorry, champ, but Luna and I have got to go.”

“Really?” Jackson says, tearing his eyes away from Luna and onto the two adults standing in front of him. He’s frowning and Ryan instantly feels bad.

“Yeah, Bubs, daddy’s got work to do. I’m sure you can see Luna again very soon, if Ryan’s okay with it,” Harry says, causing two pairs of green eyes to fall onto her frame.

She nods quickly, crouching down in front of her small friend and grabbing Luna in her unoccupied hand. “Of course, champ. We’ll schedule a playdate.”

Jackson grins enthusiastically, wiggling on the floor with excitement. Before Ryan can respond, Harry appears in front of her, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Ryan,” he mutters in a low timbre.

“Bye, Harry. Thanks again for the tea,” she responds, heading towards the doorway in her socks and leaving the confines of his flat, trying her hardest to catch her breath in the silence of the empty hallway.

It’s only once she’s back in her own flat, her sad attempt of dinner disposed of in the bin and in its place an oversized bowl of cereal in one hand, with Harry’s mug in the other, Ryan comes to a startling realization.

Harry’s tea mug was a far better alternative than the fucking plunger.

*** A/N: Hi guys, here’s part three of you feel like home! I hope you enjoyed it. Part four will be posted on Thursday November 19, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light​ @onlyphysicallypresent​ @dontwanttobealone​ @justsaying20​ @elemayox​ @awomanindeniall​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum​ @kakayam​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @hopelessly-harry​ @ficnarry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @niallgolden​ @harryswinterberries​ @caramello-styles

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #hs #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #fic: home #1dffquarantine

[driflew]

Lucid (adj.)

Lu·cid (/ˈlo͞osəd/)

· showing ability to think clearly, especially in the intervals between periods of confusion or insanity

· (of a dream) experienced with the dreamer feeling awake, aware of dreaming, and able to control events consciously

Dream for April 8, 2021

I can’t think of the last time I wrote about a nightmare in one of these journals. I think it might’ve been in 2020 or 2019, because I don’t think I’ve had one this year. I feel most people would assume lucid dreamers never have nightmares, but that’s not true. They’re rarer, sure, since I can usually just turn them off, but I still have them. I had one last night.

I’ve written plenty about my sleeping problems. It was the same thing as always--The line between “lucid dream” and “awake and confused” is thin, and I was straddling it again. I can’t remember what I was dreaming about, but it was boring enough that I woke myself up a little trying to find something more interesting to dream about, and when I checked my phone clock it was 3:20-something AM. When a dream is boring, there’s nothing to do but wait to pass back out and hope for a better one, so I rolled onto my side to try.

My eye caught on my window. I usually close my curtains before bed, but I forgot to last night. I like to say it’s because the sunlight wakes me up too early in the morning (which is true!), but honestly, I just don’t like being able to see out the window at night.

My window faces my backyard. It’s little, and at the back it gives way to a forest. It’s cute during the day, but at night, it’s all looming shapes and dark splotches. With bad vision and an active imagination, it’s way too easy to see things out there in the dark. Especially when my body’s awake and my head’s still dreaming.

That’s what happened last night. I imagined something out there in the treeline, peering back at my window, and suddenly I’d convinced myself there really was something out there. I didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t matter. I just knew it wanted to get to me, and that I didn’t want it to.

That’s the thing about lucid dreaming. It’s not total control of your dreams, just awareness that you’re dreaming. And stuff like this is hard to control, because the less I want to think about it, the more I’m actively doing so. The more that thing in the trees stressed me out, the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was actually there, the more it stressed me out... And I was still half asleep, so this all felt real, even while the part of me that was awake knew better.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was probably a few minutes, but it felt like much longer. I couldn’t stop thinking about it shuffling around in the trees, wanting to come in, until I heard a real sound from the trees. It was the crack of a branch, breaking under a heavy foot.

Now that I’m awake, I can say that it was probably some terribly timed deer, but at that moment, I was convinced the thing had actually started stepping out from the trees, and it was coming.

I got up and closed the curtains. I didn’t see it out there, obviously, but I was afraid to look for too long. Moving around was good, though. It was easier to shake my head of the dream and go back to bed once I’d reminded myself of what was real.

Writing it all down now, it all feels really silly. Nothing like a nice morning to put a bad night into perspective.

Dream for April 9, 2021

I dreamt about that thing again last night. I don’t really have recurring dreams, but I guess my subconscious wasn’t done with it yet. This time, it was inside, at the foot of the stairs, and it was coming up.

I was sort of waking up when the dream came, so I shook my head a little and rolled onto my side to try to clear the dream away. Every time I rolled over, though, my head would just put it back at the bottom of the stairs, and it’d start its climb all over again.

Sometimes, when a dream is particularly unpleasant, I sit up and try to orient myself again. The dream-thing made it about halfway up the stairs, and the dread I felt was nearly suffocating. I sat up, near-frantic as I looked around the room, taking in the details. My room was blurry without my glasses, but still more distinct than the shapeless dream-thing and the memory of the staircase.

I remember taking note of as much of the room as I could, little stuff I couldn’t remember. Stuff like the hazy shapes of my clothes hanging in the closet, or the books on my shelves. Couldn’t make out individual shirts or read any spines, but the patterns were more than I felt I could have come up with in a dream. Granted, when I recall doing that now, the memory is just as fuzzy as a dream would be--My inability to retain finer details is exactly why I did it. It was grounding.

Of course, that only made the creak worse.

A little over halfway up the staircase, there’s a step that always creaks, and at that moment I was sure I heard it. The dream-thing was out there, and was coming.

My body was wide awake, and I thought my head was awake, too. But if my head really was awake, I would have remembered that houses creak at night. So I know I must have been lingering in that dream, letting my imagination get the best of me.

I got up again. It worked to clear my head last time, so I decided to try it again. This time, I locked the door. If I was making the thing up, I could decide the lock was an effective barrier. I told myself that if I locked the door, it couldn’t get in, and I went back to bed.

I didn’t sleep well. Pretty sure I only snagged an hour before the sun came up. I still feel really tired.

It’s silly. I know that. I certainly felt silly about it this morning when I went to get breakfast--Believe it or not, I actually managed to forget all about the dream for a little when I first woke up. Then I tried to leave this morning and walked face first into the door because it didn’t open when I tugged it. My face still sort of stings, but it was pretty funny.

Thinking back, I don’t actually know what the thing looks like. That’s just how it is with dreams, though, isn’t it? At least, that’s how it is with mine. They’re all indistinct, and I just know things, even when they’re formless like that.

Dream for April 10, 2021

It was on the landing last night. It didn’t move this time. It just watched my door. I didn’t see it or hear it, but I felt it.

I tried to think about other things. I flipped through this journal before I went to bed last night, finding old dreams I liked, so I had other things to dream about last night. I couldn’t hold onto any of them for very long. I was too tired to stay focused. My head just kept drifting back to the Thing on the landing.

I got up again. I stopped in front of the door. I thought about the Thing on the landing. For a moment, I entertained the idea of opening the door. I could look out there right then and prove to myself that there was nothing, that my house was as empty as it was every other night, that I was alone.

I pictured opening the door. I pictured the Thing on the landing. I pictured opening the door and looking at the landing, and when I pictured the landing, I pictured...

My fingers closed, not around the handle, but on the lock. I was being irrational, but my courage was asleep. I didn’t want to look out there--I couldn’t! The Thing was out there. I couldn’t let it see me. I couldn’t let it get inside.

I didn’t think much about what I did next. My door opens inwards, so I grabbed the heaviest thing I could lift by myself--my nightstand--and dragged it over to the door. I told myself that the movement would wake me up. I took in as much of the experience as I could. I felt the wood under my hands--chilled slightly, sturdy and unyielding, covered in the faintest ridges making up the pattern of the grain. My arms trembled slightly, a mix of exertion and exhaustion. I narrowly missed my foot when I dropped it down, and I winced with the idea of pain.

I was only validating my fear. Every step I took as I crossed the room with the nightstand made the Thing more real.

It was stupid. It was so stupid. I feel like an idiot now, looking back in the light of day. But all I can think about is how drained I felt after I got back into bed, and how I didn’t get any sleep at all. How I haven’t got much sleep since I first noticed the Thing.

Looking back, I don’t remember what the wood felt like.

Logically, I know that the wood was cold, hard, and bumpy. That’s what all wood feels like. But I can’t feel it now. My hands can feel the rigid plastic pencil and the soft paper of this book, but they can’t feel the table. It felt so real in that moment, but in my head? There’s no real difference between a memory and a dream. How can I tell what during that night was real? I can picture dragging the nightstand. I can picture grabbing the door and opening it. They’re both hazy, draped in the films of tired darkness, poor eyesight, and imagined recollection.

Maybe I did open the door. I know I didn’t, but do I know that? I also knew the Thing was there. It’s so hard to tell. I thought the daylight was supposed to bring clarity.

I just pinched myself. If I were dreaming, that would wake me, right? Except the pain of that gesture is gone now, and all I have is the memory of it. Memory isn’t tangible, it’s not real. It’s fickle, and malleable as any dream. How am I supposed to trust it? How do I know what was real?

I’m going to put the nightstand back at my bedside now.

Dream April 11

I’m breaking my one rule with this book. I never write at night, but I need to write this down now. I’m hoping maybe it will help. I always feel more clear when I’m writing in this book. I feel the pencil in my hand, with the plastic grip I’ve picked apart. I feel the paper under the side of my palms where I’m resting on the open pages. I feel the pattern of the faux-leather cover against the skin of my thighs. I can feel my sheets, soft below me, and the slightly scratchy material of my shirt. I feel the uncomfortable bend in my back where I hunch over this journal. I feel where my thighs stick together, and where my elbows dig into my sides. I feel my eyes as they ache with exhaustion, and from looking at the reading light when I flicked it on. I feel my bangs brushing at my glasses, tickling the skin there. I feel awake. I feel real. I feel the Thing outside my door.

I know it’s there. I don’t hear it moving, and I can’t see its shadow in the crack under my door, but I can feel it, just like I feel my lungs fill and deflate when I breathe. I know it’s out there, right outside the door.

I didn’t lock the door before I went to bed. One last burst of logic. I thought maybe if I didn’t indulge it this time that I wouldn’t have this dream, but I haven’t even fallen asleep. I didn’t fall asleep yesterday, either. I’m starting to wonder if I ever fell asleep--Was I awake this entire time, every time the Thing appeared? I can’t remember.

Did I really move the nightstand yesterday, or lock the door the night before? The nightstand is next to me now, as if it never moved at all. It’s cool to the touch, but when I pull my hand away from it, I don’t remember where in my fingers I felt the grain.

I want to lock the door now, but I can’t. I don’t want it to hear me and realize the door is unlocked. I don’t know what I’d do if I got up and it opened the door. I don’t know what it would do if it opened the door. I don’t want to find out.

The line between “lucid dream” and “awake and confused” is so very thin, as is the line between memory and dream. The intersection of both is where I exist now.

I’m unsure of anything except the exact moment I’m in, knowing only what I can feel.

It’s not making any noise out there. I don’t hear it. I don’t need to. I don’t need to hear my own heart to know it’s beating. I know it’s out there, as surely as I know I’m alive. If I am real, so is the Thing. I can feel my heart, thundering away in my chest, and I can feel that Thing wants to get inside my room. I can feel that it wants to get to me, to my heart. I can feel that it wants to tear the beating thing straight out of my chest.

Some people believe lucid dreaming is awareness, clarity. Some people believe it’s control. I’m neither aware nor clear. Am I in control? I don’t feel it.

I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight, either.

April 12

There was a scratch on my door, on the outside, under the door handle. That wasn’t there before. I would have noticed something like that, right? Maybe little details escape me sometimes, but I’ve lived here for years. I would have noticed that before.

Which means it was here. It really was here last night.

The lock won’t work. I know it. When I think back to the snap of that branch, and the creak on the stairs, they both feel so significant. A resounding snap, a downed tree shattered under its heel. A long, terrible groan, the wood protesting below a massive weight. What will it do when it gets to me?

I don’t know what I’m up against, but I’ve always had a terrible imagination. I haven’t been able to do anything today but sit and think of snapping, of crushing, of clawing. The longer I think, the worse it becomes. I can’t think about anything else--The more I try to turn my head away, the more I find myself stuck.

My door is open. I can see the scratch. If I can see it, it’s real. When I look down to write, I forget the details. I can’t picture its exact length, or how far away it’s set from the handle. So I leave the door open and I look at it again and again, and I know that it’s real.

I broke my arm once, as a child. I remember lying in the dirt. I remember sobbing, crying for help. I remember staring up at the tree I’d fallen from, unable to move off the ground. I don’t remember the pain. I don’t remember what it felt like to land, or for the bone to snap. Were the trees unclear because the tears blurred my eyes? Or is that my memory?

I see that I wrote last night that I didn’t hear the Thing, but there’s a scratch on the door. The Thing must have left it last night. Wouldn’t I have heard it, like I heard the branch and the stair? I can imagine those. I can imagine the scratching just as clearly. It must have been clawing at the handle. It scratched all night. The noise kept me awake. How could I sleep with all that scratching? I don’t even want to look at the door. With all that scratching, the wood must be gouged all over. I can picture the damage so clearly.

I keep thinking about what it will do when it comes tonight. I put the book down and I stare at my window for hours. There’s a bit of light coming out between the curtains, and it’s fading quickly. I picture the Thing. I still don’t know what it looks like. I know it’s big, and heavy, and it has horrible claws.

I imagine snapping a twig below my heel. I imagine breaking a branch over my knee. I imagine crushing an empty soda can between my hands. I imagine cutting into the stomach of a plush toy. I imagine tearing a wishbone in two. I imagine crushing a bug between my thumb and my index. I imagine rending the leg off of a chicken at dinner. I imagine popping the head off of a doll. I imagine myself. So easily, with so little resistance.

I can’t begin to think about what it will feel like. I doubt I’ll know until it happens.

I don’t imagine I’ll have an entry tomorrow. At the very least, I know I won’t be dreaming.

#hey look at that! original writing! #we have to do a short story for class so i tried my hand at horror #it feels a little tma statement but im pretty proud of it #cw unreality #lucid (adj.) #original story #lew writes

[finoalcielo]

KAI-CHAN RADIO ⑤

☆ JUL 21, 2021☆

KAI: They competed for the fun~! YOU: Leisure activities, huh? Summer is full of it. And so, KAI: Kai-chan Radio! YOU: will also include Haduki You! See in you a moment♪

☆ KAI-CHAN RADIO IS A CASUAL RADIO ☆

KAI: Let's talk tonight♪ About our summer vacation activities! YOU: I started off extremely excited for it, but, I don't think I'll be able to go to the August's activities. Like the Lantern Festival dance, mountains, swimming pool, or even a little trip to the sea. Is that all?

KAI: Ah? Really? YOU: I'll be at home. Helping my parents. KAI: Oh right. The temple. YOU: Yup. Obon is the busiest time of the year. So, I have to travel with my family. KAI: Ooh. YOU: I've never really had much complaints about it. KAI: Ah, I see. YOU: Yeah, since I understood it ever since I was a child.

YOU: It felt a bit nice to see my parents relying on me for some things. I went exploring deeper into the mountains with Tooru (2nd oldest brother) once. And, when we returned later than usual, Sou (oldest brother) scolded us. We mess around a lot every day. KAI: Oh, Haduki brothers. You guys haven't changed at all (www)

YOU: I only remembered when I started talking. Still, I travelled about 2, 3 times. Near Takachiho and Hokkaido. And my memories from that time is a bit weird. Like, I remember the soft serve ice cream being delicious or the sea urchins being terrible (I like it now though) (www) KAI: Memories from long ago are really like that. Food being more important than famous places!

KAI: I also remember the souvenirs I bought on the way rather than the destination. It was a metal keychain with a dragon entwined around a sword. YOU: I knew you'd speak about it (www). Wasn't it the one where it had a lot of crystals or stone stuck to it? (wwww) KAI: I still have it (ww)

YOU: You still have it?! Wow (www) KAI: I use it for my car key. YOU: Extremely distracting... (www) KAI: Ah, anyways, about my leisure activities! I went to a lot of places, but have I told you about the year when my father rented a minibus to go on a family vacation? YOU: Minibus?! KAI: We are a big family (6 siblings). YOU: Ah.

KAI: My father did his best to get a license to drive our big family. YOU: Fuduki papa is amazing. KAI: I got one too. Let's all go~? YOU: The Fuduki family is amazing. KAI: The destination was for Tokyo's Disneyland! It was for a day, but if we include the sightseeing at the town on the way back, then it was 5 days in total? It was awesome. YOU: Sounds fun!

KAI: Maybe I remember this because it was during the time I enjoyed travelling? But anyways, in about two years, the Fuduki family once again travelled in the minibus! At that time, we travelled to Shikoku. YOU: Oh~ It takes a while to reach there, right? KAI: It took us a week to reach. YOU: Lots of driving (www).

KAI: No, at that time, the truck driver's cousin or I sometimes took over driving. On those days, my father would drink beer with his morning, evening and night meals. YOU: Fuduki papa (www) I get your feelings (www) KAI: It's a memory of my summer vacation activity, which was more fun than the destination itself ♪

KAI: And so, that was the Kai-chan Radio "Summer Vacation Activities" Edition! YOU: And then is... ah, right. Want to take some messages from people? I know it's late in the night, but if anyone is awake and has some messages for us, we'll accept them! KAI: Questions, messages, anything is fine~!

It's so hot that I feel like melting... Please give me an idea to cool down! = = YOU: I know! Turn on the cooler. KAI: A pragmatic answer (www) YOU: It's not good to put up with the heat ~ KAI: That's true. YOU: Watch out for heat stroke!

Thank you for sharing your stories. If you could travel now, where would you go...? = = YOU: It's really hot, so I want to take a dive in the sea. KAI: I'll be next to him! YOU & KAI: We want to go to the sea~~~!!! HARU: Didn't you go there the other day? (laughs)

Kai-san, You-san, thank you...! The final exam is about to start, so please give me some encouragement... = = YOU: Studying this late? Woah! We'll be cheering for you to do well! KAI: I'll support you with (my heart's) pompoms~ Hooray~ Hooray~ Study well!! YOU: A fun summer is waiting for you after the test!

Kai-kun! I have a glittering bow keychain, so let's compete against each other!!? (laughs) = = KAI: A fellow friend!!! Then, I'll be the second player!! Bring it on!! YOU: Exactly how will you fight (www)

Hello! I'd like to hear about any recent small incidents that occurred around Procella members! = = YOU: Yoru's glasses got deformed by the heat (www) KAI: He accidentally left it on the bonnet of our travel bus, it got deformed slightly after about 2 hours. (www)

24 hours a day isn't enough. What do you think? = = KAI: I guess it's slightly not enough? If you sleep while thinking, "Stay tuned for Kai tomorrow!", then you'll be excited. YOU: Don't get excited before going to bed (ww)

You-kun! Please do something with Aoi-kun!!!!!!! (I'm greedy) = = YOU: I like your greediness~ Yosh, let's do it now. Aoi-chan. AOI: Eeh?! YOU: I caught the retreating Aoi-chan. AOI: I-I got caught! KAI: Now, how do you want to do this?! YOU: What should we do? Aoi-chan. AOI: EHHHH?!

→ AOI: L-L-Let's peel it off! T/N: Aoi was trying to say "Look that way" (あっち向いてホイで lit. atchi muite hoi de) but ended up saying "Let's peel it off" (あっち剥いてホイで lit. atchi muite hoi de). Both have the same pronunciation, just different meanings.

→ AOI: What a terrible typo!!!

→ AOI: I meant 'Look that way'!! YOU & KAI: (wwwww) AOI: I was really flustered and when I thought I deleted it, I actually sent it instead. I meant 'Look that way'!!!~~~~~ You!!! Kai-san, geez!!! YOU & KAI: (wwww)

#Aoi won by default.

This is for a questionnaire, but what was doing your homework like? Did you fill in what you knew on the day you got it and left the rest blank and asked a friend for help, or leave some empty in the first week and finish the rest later? = = KAI: I did half in the first week, and the remaining in the last week.

→ YOU: I want to say that I finished it early in August... but I ended up frantically doing it towards the end (www) KAI: I can imagine that ~~ While Yoru did his patiently, right? YOU: Yup. Isn't that right? YORU: Yes. Ah, I also did the Radio calisthenics properly! Radio Calisthenics = a short exercise routine broadcast daily on Japan's national radio, streamed on YouTube, followed in parks and schools every day – sometimes several times a day – by all generations of Japanese people

It's been hot lately, but please tell us if you have a story that chilled you to your bones. = = KAI: Shun turned bright red and got a fever. YOU: He got one after frantically trying to decide the thumbnail for his Hajime-san video collection. KAI: He looked really happy when I putting the cooling patch on. YOU: His fever also came down almost immediately. YOU & KAI: We ate curry together.

Hi!! Starting from today, we'll be having the 4 day holiday, so will you all be working??? Are there any jobs you have with other members of the agency??? = = KAI: Hi~! Tomorrow will be a visual shooting with the theme of intelligence♪ YOU: It's not a job, but the day after tomorrow, I'll talk with Takaaki-san and Roa-san about an independent dance lesson along with a few more people. The 4 day holiday they're talking about is Marine Day, which lasts from Jul 22 - Jul 25 in Japan.

Is it okay to eat ice-cream at this time?! = = KAI: We've already eaten it (sparkles) YOU: Recently, my favorite one is... the Shi●kuma ice cream KAI: The melon flavour! This year, for some reason, the melon flavor is in demand. YOU: You can buy it at a convenience store ~ He's referring to the Shirokuma Ice Cream which is a shaved ice dessert topped with ice cream and condensed milk.

Please tell us what you had for dinner today! = = KAI: Pork shogayaki​. I really like it. Especially when its with White Rice. YOU: I get you.

Have you been interacted with the Gravi members lately? Please tell us if there's anything interesting👓✨ = = KAI: Oh, that emoji means Haru! Haru~ HARU: I was waiting so long to be called. YOU: You appeared so quickly (www) HARU: Something interesting... Ah, let's play Look that way! YOU: Is it popular in Gravi? (ww)

#Haru won and was satisfied when he left.

I'm busy and tired lately, so please leave a good luck charm please!! I love you!!! = = KAI: I love you too!! YOU: Me too! The is the best good luck charm you can believe in! We love you, support you, so please do your best!! KAI: I wish you a happy summer!

It's summer!!!!!! Did you have anything of a summer vibe that you ate?? = = KAI: Corn!!!!! Grilled Corn!!! YOU: Recently, Procella has this trend of using the Bato Mayo Soy Sauce with various things.

Is Maze slowly molting??! = = YOU: ......Maze? Are you molting? I've never cleaned them up. MAGELLAN: Que! (I forgot) KAI: He's always like fluffy. Maybe it's because he's an Demon World Penguin? Next time, let us touch you~

Speaking of summer vacation, I remember watching movies at movie theaters or on TV when I was in elementary school! Do you have a favorite movie when you were little? = = KAI: Back to the Fu●re that was rebroadcasted on TV! I feel like that's a classic one. YOU: There's also Toto●. KAI: Ah, there's that too! The child in the middle has my colors! Kai is referring to Back to the Future and I believe You is referring to My Neighbor Totoro.

We can't drink outside, but have you been drinking at home?? = = YOU: The senior group sometimes drink on the balcony~ KAI: Only sometimes~ I don't drink a lot (laughs). And what about the middle group? YOU: We don't really drink much? Instead, we eat food.

KAI: That was all for the replies~! YOU: Thank you for your messages despite it being midnight! KAI: I was going to introduce the October's CD but it's so late now, so I'll do it tomorrow! YOU: If you're going to do it tomorrow, then just call in the people themselves. KAI: Ah, true. Anyways, this is all for today's corner!

KAI: It was Kai-chan Radio, Summer Vacation Activity Edition~! YOU: Thank you for listening to us! Ah, Kai, let's say that. KAI: That? YOU (whispers unintelligently to Kai) KAI: Uhhh.. KAI & YOU: Dream well? KAI: .... YOU: .... KAI: I'm kind of embarassed. YOU: Why? (www)

#Kai-chan Radio #Thank you

✧If you like my work, then please consider supporting me here. Thank you~!

#tsukiuta #tsukiuta twitter #fuduki kai #haduki you #kai chan radio #please this was too long #what the heck #how do they have so much energy? #they really are summer guys #LOL