in which: yn is a famous fashion influencer that always adds a small red detail to her outfits. After a small leak the audience slowly starts to figure out why. (part 1) (part 2)
tags: smau, fluff, slight crack (masterlist)
notes: Final part! I'm so happy that people liked it :) I'm sad to see this series go but I'm excited for the new stuff I'm currently working on. (If you want to see sth else in this au tell me!!) Enjoy :)
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jackhughes me and my own 'something red'
therealyn: red is a lucky colour <3
⤷ jackhughes: *you are my lucky person
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notes: I grew waaay too attached to them </3 this was supposed to be only 1 part but here we are... If you want to know what I'm currently working on or if you just want to talk come talk to me here. Lots of love <3
A con artist and a petty thief walk up to you with a scheme...
How do you respond?
Ghost looked down at the two alternate version of his kids and noticed the rough clothes, the thinness, the way they smiled. He knew that look on Leo's face, and the same look on Mikey's. They wanted something, they were scheming, plotting. Together, too, which was the most dangerous way to plot for the two of them, if they were anything like his own kids.
It didn't really matter if they had ulterior motives, though. They didn't need any tricks with him, Ghost was already thinking about what he could give them. He wanted to get them nice, clean clothes and warm food and somewhere safe and cozy to sleep. The urge to sweep them under his cloak like a broody hen was rising exponentially, especially with his own kids out wandering around, leaving him to his own devices.
Fighting an inner war to ask where he needed to sign their adoption papers, he sighed softly and gently rubbed both of their heads.
"Anything you want," Ghost murmured. "I'll give it to you."
Guys I swear this isn't the soft I promised-- I wrote. A Ghost. As part of the @tmntaucompetition and as a way to cope with @somerandomdudelmao's absolutely devastating last update to their apocalypse series. Cause it sat in my head a little too long.
It is sad. Sorry. <3
Once more, Ghost was somewhere he didn’t want to be. Another portal to fall through, another swarm of alternate versions. It was different this time. More of them were kids, they weren’t all from the boys’ realities. He’d even seen a few from his own. He avoided them now, like the plague. He couldn’t stand to be near them, couldn’t stand to see them happy like that. It hurt too much.
He saw a few he recognized from the last interdimensional competition. The grown up Mikey who handed Leo a bat was familiar. The kids with the actual ghost were familiar. The older Leo and little Leo both missing arms and passing out water bottles were familiar. The computer Donnie was familiar, but he didn’t want to think about what had led to that, just as he didn’t want to think of it last time.
It wasn’t a shock when he spotted the next familiar group. He recognized them the easiest from their robot Raph, but he almost didn’t. Their demeanor was so different from when he’d last seen them, cheering Tello on.
Just one look over them and he knew.
Grief was so easy for him to see now. As much as they were trying to hide it, to brush it off to people who asked, he could see it in their eyes, in their shoulders. They were so different.
The first thing he felt was an unbelievable loss.
It felt like just last month he’d held Tello’s hand and smiled at the crowd. Hugged him once they’d escaped prying eyes. Told him to be better than Ghost had been.
His grown son from another dimension, one who didn’t even know him, was dead.
It hit him like a knife, a wet thud into his heart. Some part of him screamed in his head, drowning out all the other noise, all the other turtles but the three that had been left behind. He felt the desperate urge to find his own Donnie, to check that he was breathing to hear his heartbeat, to listen to his voice, feel his hands in his own.
Ghost swallowed it. Swallowed the grief that was seeing his child dead, even in another world, in another dimension, another time. Swallowed the scream. Swallowed the urge to ground himself with Donnie. He didn’t want to scare him.
He didn’t want to scare any of them, yet there he was, just watching the three turtles and their human companions.
He couldn’t bring himself to approach them. It felt unfair. It felt like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing; a version of his family after they’d lost their Donatello. He felt like he didn’t deserve this, like this was some window into what had happened after he’d disappeared. Like he was intruding.
They had lost their Donatello, and he was a Donatello who was lost.
Promise me you won’t let anything happen to them.
I guess that’s just what we do.
He’d been so caught up in telling Tello to take care of his family he’d forgotten the most important part of the whole thing.
Take care of yourself.
Guilt crashed through him. Guilt on his own behalf, guilt on Tello’s. He wasn’t responsible for every Donatello in every version of themselves, but sometimes it felt like he was the cause of it all. Like he was the first, the one who had doomed every Donatello to a fate of being lost, to a fate of failing to protect their family.
He added another soul to grieve on his shoulders. Another photograph he couldn’t have. Another life he couldn’t speak of.
He meant to walk away, but Leonardo spotted him across the arena. Recognition made him perk up for a moment, and then his expression fell as he saw the knowing look in Ghost’s eyes.
Ghost took a breath. They met in the middle.
It was like fitting a piece into a puzzle where the picture didn’t match.
He didn’t know what else to do but murmur a soft, “I’m so sorry.”
He was apologizing for so much more than just the loss of Tello. He was apologizing to them and his own brothers. To every version of them that Donatello had failed.
Then Mikey gave him a worried look, and it felt all so unfair again. Some part of himself that made him ill wanted to know how Tello died, what they’d done to prevent it, what hadn’t worked. He wanted to know how they were holding up, what they were doing without Tello, how they were functioning, if they were functioning at all.
He squashed the selfish part of himself, the part that wanted to know if his family could have felt the same ways. These were a version of his kids, and here he was with the urge to interrogate them about their brother’s death.
Ghost swallowed it. Mikey still gave him a sad smile.
“He was with us,” Mikey said softly. “In our arms. He went peacefully, in his sleep.”
Ghost’s expression twisted from the flat gaze he’d managed to hold. God, that was his son saying that. That was his son that had died. Not them exactly, but enough like them that it felt like he was being told his children had died in a war that he wasn’t allowed to be a part of.
He couldn’t even cry for them. It felt unfair to be so upset, to be so ruined over a Donatello that wasn’t even his.
He swallowed it.
“He loved you all so much,” Ghost whispered. Even that felt unfair to say, but he knew, and he needed them to know. He needed them to know.
“We know,” Leo replied. He touched the hilt of the sword at his waist, running a shock of purple fabric through his fingers.
Ghost took a breath. It felt like he had to force himself to breathe, like he had forgotten how. Instinctively, he signed, circling his fist over his chest in an apology, thinking they were the same as his kids, that they could read sign language somehow.
He pressed his hand over his chest and got control of his breathing again. Found his voice. “That’s good.”
He hoped the depth of it all didn’t show on his face. He was trying to keep his expression as flat as possible, but it felt like he’d lost someone important. He wasn’t great at dealing with that.
Obviously. He’d been grieving for 24 years.
“I’ll see you guys around,” Ghost whispered, bowing his head slightly. A small, polite gesture he picked up from his own father.
He turned and walked away.
He couldn’t bring them anything but more grief.
There was no solace in his words he could offer, no pain he could lessen with his presence.
He was the wrong missing piece.
He couldn’t fill their void just like they couldn’t fill his.
in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?
tags: written, mention of use of alcohol, slight angst. (masterlist for this au) (my masterlist) <prev. part: prologue I next part: ch. 2>
notes: [4.3k] First of all: thank you for your kind words after the prologue yesterday! Very happy that so many of you liked it. There is an analysis post about this chapter here that you might want to check out after! I hope you enjoy :) & come tell me how you liked it!!!
It had been a long day at work for you. The data your boss had assigned you had taken you a lot longer to work on than you’d expected, which meant that you actually, genuinely missed your last lecture of the day. You had texted a barely-even-friend that attended the same elective about her notes but you hadn't gotten a text back so far.
Standing in front of your door now, you leaned the crown of your head against the outside of it and took a deep breath in. You had missed the key hole not once but twice now and the anger that welled up inside of you was completely unwarranted, so you knew you needed to mentally take at least one step back.
Four seconds in, seven hold, eight out. In and out. You blinked once and the dark of the wood was an unwelcome reminder of reality. Still, unlocked the door, this time succeeding on the first try.
The hallway was quiet, but you had expected as much. One of your flatmates had a nightshift at the clinic she was working at while the other was sleeping over at her boyfriends. The blissful silence you had looked forward to this morning seemed suffocating now.
It didn’t matter. It was fine like this, you were fine.
After turning on the kitchen light, you walked to your room, put down your bag and fell down onto your bed, face first. The scratchy fabric of your bedcover was not nearly as nice as the sheets you had dreamed of all day long.
For a while you let your eyes fall closed, not asleep, but resting nonetheless. You just wanted to rinse the day off of you, but you were too hungry to even think about showering.
With a groan you peeled yourself off your bed, sat at the edge of your mattress while an inexplicable urge to cry welled up inside of you. Your day had been really shitty and your were really, really hungry.
But you got up anyway and walked towards the light in the kitchen that shone through through the space of the door to your room.
The music you’d put on in the background helped but it didn’t quite scratch that itch for conversation, for company. When you saw your phone light up from where you had left it on the counter, you hoped it might be the classmate you had texted.
You rinsed off your hands to see who had messaged you.
Jack (worst Hughes brother):
hey what r you doing tn?
You:
currently making dinner
why
what did you do
what do you need
Jack (worst Hughes brother):
nothing
wait why did you assume i did/need sth
anyways: can i come over soon?
The shower. You still had to shower, but soon for Jack usually meant at least half an hour. It should be enough time and besides it was just Jack, no reason to put in more effort than necessary.
You:
because you always text me when you need my help
sure, I might be eating by then, have you eaten?
Jack (worst Hughes brother):
I did like 5min ago
wait no ignore that, you’re telling me I could have had some of yours???
jkjk see you soon
You liked the last message and turned the heat off your stove. Shower first, you reminded yourself, even as you mourned the loss of the start of your dinner that you had been frying on the stove.
When he knocked at your door you were still sitting at the small kitchen table that could barely seat two people. “It’s open,” you said, loudly.
From the sounds you could hear him open and close the door, take off his shoes and leave his bag in the hallway. When he finally came into your view, you couldn’t help but smile. Strange how that worked, considering you had almost cried half an hour ago. Food really worked miracles sometimes. But then again he had always had that kind of effect on you, making you smile despite yourself.
“That’s not very safe of you,” he had said but he was already smiling, “having your door unlocked.”
“Hey you, fancy seeing you here.”
There was a warm feeling curling itself around your ribcage at the look at him, “hey yourself. I left it open because I knew you were coming over, don’t worry about it.”
“Alright,” he conceded, “did you watch the game yesterday?”
“‘Course I did,” you said, eyes following him as he took a glass from the cabinets and filled it up. There was something intimate about that, the ease he carried himself with, him knowing where to find your glassware and feeling comfortable enough to do so while carrying on with the conversation.
There was something in you that ached at the feeling, at having someone that comes home to you. At having someone that just feels that comfortable with you, that you live your life alongside with.
It’s not like you were lonely, you had wonderful flatmates and good friends, but there was just something different about this feeling, about this longing. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, inexplicable as always.
“Good, otherwise I would have felt stupid after my goal.”
You had seen the new ritual he did sometimes that he had been asked about by the media sometimes. He had done it a few times now, more often over this past year. He was approached by his teammates first, but then he was still for a bit, putting his hand on his chest and raising it up after, usually waving once. The warmth that had seeped into your bones crept up to your face, “you did that for me?”
The one time he talked to an interviewer about it, he had said it was a new good luck charm he was trying out.
Because of the small table the two of you sat close and his knee kept bumping into yours, but you hardly paid it any mind. It was comforting, having him here, this close in the low light of the kitchen, cradling one of your glasses in his hands.
Admitting something he hadn’t told anyone else.
“Yeah, of course, had to show my appreciation for my number one fan somehow.”
You laughed a little, “you are such an idiot.”
The smile he gave you in return crinkled up the skin at the corner of his eyes and you wanted to trace that fold with your thumb. What were you even thinking? “I know.”
So you just swatted his shoulder and got up to wash your dish. “Did you guys go out and celebrate?”
Jack turned in his seat, his body facing your back from where he was still sitting at the table, “yeah. It was a really small bar in the middle of nowhere, Nico said he didn’t want to be recognised, despite the win.”
You hummed in response. The constant scrutiny must have been affecting them all after these past few games. “Cool. Did it actually work or,” you trailed off, not really sure how to finish your question.
“Sort of, I mean we took a few pictures when we came in but it was a lot better than usual.”
“I’m glad then,” you said and turned back around to face him, “I’m glad nothing too exciting happened.”
At the word exciting his expression morphed into something odd. “What?” you asked.
“Nothing,” he answered but he wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore.
“You can tell me, you know you can,” you reminded him, now getting closer to him again. You were usually able to get out every last secret of his if you just asked the right questions.
“I know,” he assured you, now pulling you a little closer by your hip and resting his hand there. He had always been touchy like that, arms slung over your shoulders or around your waist, hands holding your wrist to pull you through crowds, thumbs circling your ankle when you rested your legs in his lap.
“But it’s really nothing, I just got a little drunk,” he assured you, but you didn’t really buy it.
Still, you had no real reason to press, knowing that it just made him close up further. He would end up telling you, just not now. “Okay.”
The two of you went back to your room soon after, deciding to watch a movie. You didn’t tell him that you were really, genuinely tired, because you knew he could tell. He always could, somehow, even if you yourself weren’t all that aware of it. Funny how that worked.
You sat down first and then patted the spot next to you on the bed, but for a split second you saw him hesitate. That hurt, just a bit because you had thought that the two of you were close enough for it to not matter anymore.
Still, he leaned against the headboard next to you, his shoulder softly knocking against yours and your worries disappeared at that. You must have imagined it.
“Any preferences?”
“Ratatouille,” you said immediately, not even knowing where that request came from.
He smiled, “I do like a girl that knows what she wants.”
For some reason you blushed at that, at the barely even there implication of being his. You really were going insane today. “Is that okay for you?”
“Sure,” he said, “let's watch the rat be a better cook than the two of us combined.”
You typed the website and clicked play on your screen and settled your laptop down between the two of you, one knee on each side of the bottom of it.
You were suddenly keenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even own a tv, that you were watching a movie from your laptop when he could be at home, watching it on a screen that was at least double the size of this.
It was a stupid thought, so you brushed it off. He was a professional athlete, you were a college student. There was something fundamentally different about your current lives, as intertwined as they were.
The movie started soon after, so you pushed all of that to the back of your mind. At first the two of you ran a semi-steady commentary about what was going on but soon after you were both too engrossed in the story to think about anything fun to say.
When a sharp sound came from the screen you realised that you had your eyes closed. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open again. It must have been for a few minutes, at least because you weren't sure what was going on anymore.
“Tired?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.
You let your forehead fall against his shoulder, this time on purpose. It was a welcome contrast to a few hours ago when you did the same thing against your front door. His shoulder was softer because of his sweatshirt and he smelled nice. Like the shampoo he used, like his laundry detergent. You wondered when that smell had become intrinsically his and not someone else's' like a friend of yours that used the same deodorant.
You kind of wanted to drown in it, but you held yourself afloat anyway. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. The two of you weren’t like that.
“Had a hard day at work,” you mumbled, a little more tired now than you’d been just moments ago. His presence did that to you, calmed you down when you didn’t even know you were high to begin with.
He lowered your shoulder a bit which made it more comfortable for you to rest your head on it. “You could have said no, you know that, right?”
But you had wanted to see him once you had seen his message. “I know.”
“Good,” he answered, as if it was as simple as that and remained quiet after that.
You tried to turn your focus back to the movie, you really did, but before you knew it your eyelids were drooping again.
Then you were woken up again, this time by Jack.
The movie must have finished in the meantime because he had moved his arm, closing your laptop. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, trying to form a coherent thought but the only thing on your mind was the warmth of him next to you, the dream that just barely slipped out of your grasp.
“Sorry,” you said.
He turned to you, surprised. “What for? If anything I should apologise, I kept watching even when you were tired.”
“You know I don't mind that,” you said. “I just wasn’t very good company today. Sorry.”
Jack knocked his shoulder against you with a little more purpose so you turned to him. “Nope, none of that. I don’t mind, I got to see you, which is all I wanted anyway.”
How could he just say something like that? As if words like these didn’t bore themselves under your skin, living there forever, etching themselves into the white of your bones.
This casually, as if it didn’t just make your heart flutter the same way it did when you were eighteen, back when you had loved him. Still, in your barely illuminated room, late at night you let yourself linger. Let yourself pretend that his words held meaning.
Let yourself pretend that the two of you were different.
You thought about the thousands of times you must have seen him just like this, in the dark, looking back at you.
It was a weird memory that came to you, just then.
Back when the two of you had first met you had been crushing hard. It wasn’t really surprising, now looking back. You had never really gotten a lot of attention by boys growing up, so when he went out of his way to talk to you, you really had no choice but to fall for him.
Liking him had become addicting.
You could still remember the moment you thought he might like you back and the very same moment you knew it wasn’t, probably ever, going to work out between the two of you.
It was at a party, after you had just graduated. You had just come out of the bathroom, alone because your friend was finally, finally talking to the guy she liked.
Then you picked up a friend’s voice somewhere down the corner, most likely from the kitchen. “C’mon your turn now. Who are you crushing on,” Aaron had said. They must still be playing a weird mixture of truth or dare and some other game you had already forgotten the name of.
Your mind immediately went to Jack, the way his hand had brushed yours when he had gotten you a drink earlier that night.
“I don't?” Jack answered, slightly laughing, but there was an air of unease in his voice that you couldn’t help but notice.
“C’mon, Jack don’t be like that,” someone else interjected, and suddenly you were a lot more invested in the conversation than just a moment ago. It was always like that when it was about him.
“There are always so many girls throwing themselves at you, surely you want one of them,” you could hear the other guy’s jealousy from miles away but you weren’t sure if the others picked up on it too.
“I’m serious, I barely have time for my friends already, let alone a girlfriend.” Jack said and there was this tiny spark of hope rising in your chest. Maybe you could change that. Maybe you could be the exception.
“True,” Aaron agreed calmer than usual. You thought he might be noticing the tension waving off of the other guy.
“There is no shame in admitting it,” the other guy doubled down, “what about that one girl? Short, brunette, on the track and field club.”
Oh god, he was describing your friend, the one you had just left with her crush. “Nah, wait I think she has a boyfriend, but what about her friend, the one that Kevin hangs out with.”
You. Shit, he was talking about you. Did you really want to hear Jack’s response? What if he said he didn’t like you? But what if he did?
“She is my friend too, you know,” Jack said, “but she is pretty, I guess.”
He guesses? That kind of really stung. You knew that there was nothing all that memorable about you, but it’s not like you were ugly. A thousand different insecurities that you thought you had worked through rose to the surface and you didn’t have the strength to push them back down.
You had to escape, now, without being noticed and without listening to anything more. Still, your ear couldn’t help but pick up on the rest even as you pushed past that guy that sat behind you in math.
“Jack, don’t be like that,” the other guy insisted, “don’t you want to go up to her and just fuck her? I mean her ass-”
Humiliation. For some reason you felt humiliated and violated. You knew about locker room talk, but you had never wanted to be part of it. Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes and suddenly you could feel every single person that had touched any part of you today, suddenly questioning if it really was accidental.
You had to get out, now. The static in your ear was loud and the bass vibrating through the soles of your feet seemed to turn it up even more. You had run away, texting the friend you came with some kind of bullshit excuse for leaving.
The asphalt outside on the sidewalk was cold, but you sat down on it anyway. You just wanted to cry. Everything seemed so overwhelming and important all at once and you had no idea how to deal with all of it.
Soon you were leaving high school for good, your friends were moving all across the country, you were so fucking lonely and the guy you had been crushing on for a better part of a year didn’t even think that you were worthy to look at.
You drew your legs closer to your body and folded yourself up as much as possible. Growing up seemed scary all of a sudden. There was that one Lorde lyric that said that too, that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Suddenly people were streaming out of the house, all at once. You wiped your tears, looking up at what was happening. In the stream of people you couldn’t make out any of your friends.
Then you heard your name being called. It was Kevin, still standing at his door. He held Jack at the others shirt collar, as if he was holding up a particularly unruly cat that had gotten in trouble again.
Your eyes must not have been red because when you came closer neither boy commented on it. “Get him home,” Kevin said and dumped a heap of Jack right in front of you.
Jack glared back at where Kevin disappeared back into the house, eyes murderous. You had never really seen him act like that, especially to a friend. But then again how well did you really know him?
A beat of silence. You really wondered what on earth had happened for the party to just end. You shifted your weight on your feet. “Do you have a car?” you asked eventually.
Jack brushed past you, “yeah. I’ll drive you home, didn’t drink anything.”
You followed him, but on the short walk back to his car neither of you said anything.
The stereo remained off all the way back to your place. After you had stopped looking at him to try and figure out what had him in this bad of a mood, you looked outside. The neighbourhood was so familiar, and the horribly sad feeling from earlier came up again.
You really needed some kind of distraction. “Thank you for driving me home.”
For a second he remained quiet and you really thought you were going to be ignored. He had always had a bit of a dramatic streak at times. “Of course.”
His expression remained scarily blank. “Can I ask what happened with Kevin?”
“Nothing,” he said, his gaze staring firmly ahead. Then, “I don’t like his friends.”
What kind of response was that? “Okay,” you tried, carefully, “then why did you come?”
“I didn’t know I didn’t like them before tonight,” he said.
Then you looked at the way his hands were gripping the wheel, specifically at his knuckles. Wait- “did you punch one of them?”
He laughed, and the sound bounced off the small enclosure and some kind of happy feeling made your heart swell, even though you had been apprehensive about him just moments ago.
It was a lot longer than your comment had warranted. You really were a bit concerned about him. Should he be driving if he acted like this? “I might have.”
Before you could ask why, because you had never seen him actually punch anyone, he continued, “in my defense, he started it.”
“That’s a shitty defense,” you said, “that just means you have to be the one to take a step back first.”
He only shook his head in response but you were happy he was back to acting like that Jack you knew. “You would have punched him too, I just know it.”
“Sure,” you replied. You had never punched a person because you didn’t like them and you didn’t think you’d start anytime soon.
“Trust me, you would have,” he said and left it at that.
The two of you arrived at your place soon after, so you thanked him and left.
The rest of the summer between highschool and college was spent getting over him, which you eventually succeeded at when he introduced his now ex-girlfriend to you and your friends.
In college you went out on a few dates, but none of them ended up going anywhere. That was fine to you, because it just meant that you were prioritising other things now, like your studies and your friends.
There wasn’t even anything all that similar between that memory and your current situation, but you drew the comparison anyway. His jaw was more refined now, his hair longer and his eyes seemed different now, a bit more mature maybe. Or maybe just a bit more tired.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
It must have been a bit strange, you just looking at him. “You,” you replied honestly. “Do you remember that one party, way back, after high school where you punched someone?”
He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, his throat exposed. Your gaze lingered there for a bit before returning to his face. Some kind of feeling almost bubbled to the surface at the sound and the matching sight.
“I do.”
“I never actually figured why you did that.” When his gaze remained firmly on your ceiling, you continued, “I feel like now enough time has passed for you to admit why.”
He smiled a bit. “There was this other guy, right? The one I punched, I mean.”
You nodded.
“He was being a real dick about one of my friends, and when he didn’t stop talking about her I just kinda wanted him to shut up. Moved before thinking about it.”
“Asshole,” you commented, not about Jack.
“Right?” he turned his head so that he looked back down to you, “after that one punch I came back to myself but before I knew it Kevin had dragged me out by my collar, shouting that everyone had to go.”
“He must have wanted to avoid a full on fight,” you said.
“For sure, can’t even blame him.” With a mischievous gleam in his eyes he said, “but it felt really good to finally shut him up.”
You laughed, thinking that the entire situation was a lot more dramatic than it really had any reason to be. The laugh turned to a yawn by the end.
“I should leave,” he said but you had the weird urge to ask him to stay.
“Sorry, I’m a lot more tired than I thought,” you said instead.
“Don’t apologise for that,” he said, getting up. He ended up offering you a hand to help you get up as well even though you really didn't need it. You took it anyway.
He picked up the bag that he had left at the door, opened it and turned to you. “I had fun.”
You smiled, “me too.”
“Good,” he offered you a smile in return. You saw his hand reach out and stop for just a second, but before you could ask him about it, he held it against your temple and leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead. He lingered in your orbit for a bit longer than the duration of the kiss, just hovering above you.
“See you soon,” he said, waving, and you replied the same. Then you closed your door and locked it.
You didn’t need to hold your hand against your cheek to feel it burn. What was that? He had never done that before. He had never done anything like that before, ever.
You stumbled to your bathroom, and went through the motions of brushing your teeth and going on the toilet. When you finally crawled under your sheets, you let yourself sink down into them.
Still, you were too tired to properly dissect the entire interaction so instead you closed your eyes. You drifted to sleep, your mind focusing on the tips of his ears that had seemed a bit flushed when he closed the door behind himself.
taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @hughescomplex @lupinslibraries @megaluke @cixrosie (send me an ask to be added!)
in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?
tags: multichap, written, fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, happy ending, use of alcohol, mention of violence. (my masterlist)
! This is very, very loosely based off of The Cheat Sheet by Sarah Adams. I've never actually read it, only seen the list on my Pinterest. I do not claim to own this idea !
Send me an ask to be added to the taglist of this au!
